by J. M. Madden
Matt could see the dismay on her face when she saw the mess, and he felt his face heat with embarrassment. He pushed the base post off his shoulder and levered himself up off the step, then turned back to look.
God, it was bad. These cookie-cutter houses had been here for a long time, and the age showed in the frailty of the wood. The old base had snapped at the bottom and ripped up two of the hardwood floor boards. The post was still attached to the banister, but six of the spindles had broken as well and were leaning in over the stairs. The only good thing he could see was that the long banister itself was not one piece. It was two sections. In his mind, he had already begun the fix.
Humiliation gnawed at his chest, and his face felt as red as it had ever been. Sweat broke out on his forehead and ran down his cheek. “I am so sorry,” he choked out. Disgust beat at him, and he clenched his jaw so hard his teeth creaked. He had turned out exactly as Rick had said years ago. Big, stupid, clumsy ox. The man had been dead for years, but Matt could still hear his voice as if he stood next to him. No good for anything.
Taking a deep breath he dared to glance at Gina.
She smiled up at him gently. Her brows were raised in humor, and her left hand was propped on her hip. The right was nestled between her breasts. But there was no censure in her eyes. She shrugged her shoulders and giggled. “We just can’t seem to have a normal conversation, can we?”
Unable to believe that she wasn’t mad, Matt shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
Her gaze suddenly zeroed in on something and she reached up with her left hand to grasp his chin, turning his head to the right. Gentle fingers lifted his hair off his head, and Matt realized his hat was on the floor. He hadn’t even noticed it being gone.
“Oh, Matt. Come on.”
Gina clutched his hand in hers and tugged him toward the kitchen. Once there, she pulled a chair away from the table and swung it around in front of the sink. “Sit down, please. You conked your head pretty good with that post.”
Matt reached up and probed the area. He pulled back bloody fingers. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been hurt. Wiping the side of his face with a paper towel she shoved at him, he realized it was blood running down his face, not sweat. Once he recognized the blood, the area started to throb in pain.
Gina rummaged in a low cupboard, most of her body buried inside. It was the first time Matt had ever seen her in jeans, and he had to admit he liked them much better than scrubs. They cupped her ass to perfection.
When she backed out and stood up, she had a square white first-aid box in her hand. Popping the latch one-handed, she ripped open a square gauze pad and pressed it to his head. Matt winced at the thought of getting her dirty and tried to put his hand in her place. “Hold that there a minute,” she told him.
She rummaged in the box again and ripped open another gauze square with her teeth. Peering in yet again, she pulled out several sterile cotton swabs in paper. Matt couldn’t help but pull away a bit as she ripped them open and reached for his head. Gina paused and looked down at him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Matt felt like a heel. It was second nature to pull away from anybody. “I know. Just habit. Go ahead.”
Gina reached forward again, slower this time, and Matt just felt plain stupid. It wasn’t her fault he had been raised to expect being hit.
She pulled away the gauze pad, and he was startled to see how much blood was on it. Gina must have seen the look because she pressed the second one to his head gently and tossed the used square onto the paper it had been originally wrapped in. “Head wounds always bleed a lot. You probably just have a tiny cut. We’ll hold this here for a minute and then clean it and see what we have.”
Matt tipped his head into the pressure, praying that the thing would stop bleeding sooner. Gina stood so close, he could smell peaches. It had to be her shampoo or body lotion. For the first time, he realized his eyes rested on her breasts, directly in front of him. He slammed his eyes closed, but he could still see the gentle swell of the purple T-shirt stretched thin over the heaviest part of them and the shape of her nipples at the crest. Blood began to head south and it was all he could do not to pull her to him. He crossed his hands over his lap and the erection that hadn’t completely gone away, but it did no good. He was hard as a board as she pulled the second pad away and tossed it to the counter. She stepped away for a moment to retrieve the swabs, then came back to stand in front of him again. This time, though, she leaned forward to look at the wound even closer.
Matt felt his breath stall in his lungs as he was blasted by the heat of her body and the scent of her skin. Only this time, her breasts were mere inches from his face. He had no idea what size they were, but he knew if he shaped his hands to them, they would fill them perfectly. It was a battle to keep his hands clenched together.
“Now this may hurt a bit,” she warned as she reached across with her casted hand to pull the hair away from the cut.
Good. It did hurt a little bit, but not enough to distract his body from what was directly in front of his face. He closed his eyes again and tried to breathe slowly, but her scent was all around him, keeping him on edge.
“Well,” she said suddenly, “looks like it’s just a little spot. It could probably use a stitch, though.”
“No stitches,” he grumbled.
“You may have a scar if we just bandage it,” she warned.
Shrugging, he pointed to his right eyebrow, which had a line through the middle of the brow where his father had tossed him against the coffee table. “I’m used to scars.” He’d probably shock her if he showed them all to her.
When she pulled back and looked in his face, Matt wished he had kept his damn mouth shut.
“How did you get that one?” she asked.
Yep, stupid, that’s what you get. “Coffee table when I was a kid.”
Gina seemed to know there was more to the story than he was saying, but she didn’t press. Pulling the swabs from their paper sleeves, she cleaned his head. It was difficult for her to place the butterfly bandages with the cast on her hand, so he held his own hair out of the way. With a last swipe of a pad, she was done and stepped away.
Matt took his first deep breath in several minutes as she cleaned up the bloody paper mess, and his brain cleared. He had other things to worry about.
“I’ll fix the banister,” he said.
Gina smiled at him over her shoulder. “I know you will. I never had any doubt. Honestly, that thing has been loose for a long time.”
Matt frowned at the lie. She was trying to make him feel better. The post had been sturdy. Until he’d grabbed it, that is. “I’ll go get my tools. I’ll shift my jobs around that I had planned for this weekend. Are you going to be home for a while?”
Gina nodded and crossed to wash her hand and the tips of her fingers on her casted hand. She dried them on a dishtowel that hung from the oven door. “Yep. Oh, wait. I may go get a few groceries, but I’ll leave the front door open. I’ll be home by--” she looked at the digital clock on her microwave, “--eleven o’clock.”
“I’ll be back then.” He turned and walked out the door before she tried to put him off.
He wasn’t actually work-free, but he would shuffle everything to get her banister done first. The sooner he got away and out of her life, the better they both would be.
***
Gina heaved a huge sigh and leaned against the sink as he walked out the door. Finally, she could breathe. It had been all she could do to bandage the poor man’s head without straddling that incredible boner. The entire time she had stood over him, he had watched her breasts. Looking down, she saw they were finally beginning to relax. They’d been hard for so long. Her panties were soaked.
What was it about the quiet man that appealed to her so strongly? And why so suddenly? Other, better looking, more eloquent men with a lot less baggage usually appealed to her. But the longer she was with Matt, the better looking he became. He seemed to be a gentle soul, even tho
ugh it was pretty obvious he hadn’t had a gentle life growing up. He actually reminded her of little Gabe, worried and solemn, leery of everything. He surveyed his environment with cool eyes and reacted little. Actually, he reacted; you just had to watch very carefully for the tightening of his lips or a slight flinch around his eyes.
Gina wondered for a moment if this was her mothering trait coming out to try to make things better for him, but she discounted that quickly. He was too freakin’ hot to mother. And the way she reacted to him was definitely not mother-like.
When the post had broken, he’d been mortified and angry with himself. Gina felt terrible, because it had actually been her fault. Again. She was the one who’d made him trip. Her clumsiness had spread to an innocent bystander.
She headed out of the kitchen. Her new phone was at the base of the stairs, thankfully unscathed, and another little thrill went through her. It was exactly the same as what she’d had before, just without some of the extra bling she’d added. And her car. She couldn’t believe he’d brought her car home for her. That consideration floored her, and she promised herself to make it up to him.
She glanced down and decided she was decent enough to go out. The grocery store was calling.
Powering through the store, she found herself buying larger packages of food than she normally would. She stared in surprise when she realized her cart was heaping full. Was she secretly hoping Matt was going to stay to dinner? Or more?
Gina got home right at eleven, and Matt was parked on the street in front of her house. Several pieces of machinery were on her porch, but he was still sitting in his vehicle, windows rolled down to let in the fall breeze. The sun was shining warmer today, but Gina knew it wouldn’t be long before the weather began to cool. Actually, it had been a warmer October than normal for Indiana.
Matt got out of his truck when she pulled in the drive and was waiting for her to pop the trunk by the time she got out.
“I told you you could go in.”
Matt glanced at her as he grabbed the bulk of her grocery bags in his big hands. “I know.”
Gina tried to catch his gaze, but he avoided her look. Gathering the lone bag he didn’t get, she slammed the lid on the trunk and crossed to the porch. Gina was surprised by how much stuff was there. Boards and saws, a big carpenter’s bag full of hammers, pencils and nails, and several cases with equipment. She smiled to herself as he stepped through her door. Matt was going to be around for a while.
As soon as he dropped off the grocery bags in the kitchen, he started on the staircase. A tape measure was suddenly attached to his hand and whipped this way and that. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket and began to make notes with a square carpenter pencil. Gina watched him for a few minutes before she went into the kitchen to unload the bags. She debated what to have for dinner. Her freezer was a little overloaded, so she pulled out a bag of meatballs and a jar of tomato sauce, then threw the lot into a pan to simmer. They could have subs later. Quick and easy.
Stashing everything else, she attacked the dishes. Most of them just went into the dishwasher chunky, because it was too difficult to clean them off in the sink without getting her cast wet. Even as she dropped the silverware into the crate, her ears were super alert to any noise in the entryway. So far, she had heard a pencil drop, a tape measure snap six times, and several heavy thunks as something was dropped into a bucket.
Gina called herself a fool when she realized her movements had stalled as she remembered how soft Matt’s hair had been under her fingers. She blinked the thought away and looked up just in time to see a little head disappear below the kitchen window-sill.
Gabe was already around the corner of the house by the time she stuck her head out the back door, but he came running when she whistled. He slid to a stop in front of her. “Hey, Gina.”
“Hey, Gabe. What are you up to today?”
The boy’s narrow shoulders bounced in a shrug. “Nothin’, really. I heard noise over here and thought I’d see what you were doing.”
Gina stepped back and opened the door wide to let him slide by. “Well, we had an accident, and Matt is here to work on the railing we broke. Come on in and I’ll show you.”
She led him down the hallway and stopped outside the living room doorway. Matt was removing a spindle but paused when she came out. Gabe’s eyes widened when he saw the damage to the railing then widened even more when he saw Matt. Gina could understand his reaction, because even sitting folded over on the step the way he was, he could tell Matt was a huge man. Probably intimidating to a small boy.
“Matt, this is Gabe. He’s my next door neighbor and a buddy, so you may see him over here every once in a while.”
Gabe looked at her in surprise when she called him her buddy, and it was difficult for Gina to hold in a smile.
Matt nodded his head to Gabe, then turned back to un-mount the spindle. Gina was dismayed by how much he already had done. The broken post was outside on the porch and the rest of the spindles were in a pile at the bottom of the stairs. At this rate, he’d be done within a day or two.
“So, how did you break that?” Gabe questioned, motioning to the post on the porch.
Heat washed up through her face, and she smiled. “Well, I kind of hugged Matt and we tripped and fell down. You know how much of a klutz I am.”
Gabe looked at her strangely, as if he didn’t believe what she told him. He glanced up at the stairs and Matt nodded, agreeing with her.
“Wow.” There was awe in the boy’s soft exclamation.
Gina laughed and ruffled his hair. “He took his hug about as well as you do yours.”
Gabe dropped his eyes to the floor and studied his ragged shoes. Gina felt like a schmuck for making him self-conscious. Desperate for a change of topic, she asked him if he’d had lunch. He continued to avoid her eyes as he shook his head, and Gina had to wonder if he had even eaten breakfast. “Want a meatball sub?”
He nodded and headed for the kitchen when Gina motioned in that direction but avoided her hand on his bony shoulder. “Matt, can I get you a sub?”
He glanced up only long enough to shake his head and give her a hard stare. “I’m fine.”
But he was lying. She could see it in his eyes. The smell of the marinara drifted through the house now, and even Gina’s mouth was watering. She didn’t challenge him, though. She just went into the kitchen and dished out meatballs for the boy. They weren’t actually warm enough, so she threw a bowl into the microwave to heat them all the way. Gabe was starved. She knew as soon as she set the sandwich in front of him. He waited long enough for her to spread mozzarella on it and sit down with her own sandwich, then he dove in. Within minutes, the sandwich was gone and he was working on his second one. This one he savored, though, as if he knew it was going to have to hold him for a while.
“Thanks, Gina.”
Smiling gently, she crossed to the cupboard and pulled down a box of granola bars. She passed him a handful. “Here, put these in your pockets.”
Gabe looked like he was going to argue for a minute, but his stomach must have overruled his head. He shoved them into the pockets of his jeans with a mumbled thank-you and disappeared. The screen door slammed shut behind him, and Gina wondered what he was going to do the rest of the day. He hadn’t said whether Chuck was home or not. Probably not. Chuck refused to let him come over if he was home.
Dishing up more meatballs, she made two subs and sprinkled them with mozzarella. Matt didn’t say anything as she walked out and put the meal on his toolbox lid, with a cola beside it. “I know you said you didn’t want any, but I didn’t want to have to put away left-overs.”
Swinging a straight back chair out of the living room, she sat down in the hallway. He looked at her dubiously as he brushed off his hands and reached for the plate. He turned and sat on the step with one leg stretched out.
“How’s your head?” she asked.
“It’s fine.”
Gina felt her eyes widen as s
he watched him eat the first sandwich. It was the same as with Gabe. He ate so fast. As if somebody was going to come along and steal the food from his hand.
“How’s your wrist?”
The question surprised her. “It’s not too bad. I’m trying to avoid the pain pills. I don’t like feeling so loopy. I take ibuprofen every few hours and it seems to work.”
Matt nodded and started on his second sandwich, but he glanced at her occasionally. Gina struggled for something neutral to talk about. “Where did you learn to work with wood?”
Matt didn’t say anything for a long time, and she was just about to ask again in case he hadn’t heard her. “From Rick, I guess.”
“Your dad?”
He frowned as if he didn’t like the title of who the man had been. “Yeah.”
Gina tried to lighten the atmosphere. “You know,” she told him, “I think what you do is pretty artistic.”
Matt glanced at her with one brow raised. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve seen the children’s toys you make for the Christmas auction every year.” She motioned to the wooden spindles. “And I have a feeling you’re not going to put blocks of wood there.”
“No, I’m not. You can buy spindles at Lowes.”
That stymied her for a moment. Maybe she was wrong. He handled the wood as if it were fragile and precious, and she noticed he completely avoided the toy reference.
“Well,” she said finally, “I’m sure whatever you do will be very nice.”
Matt smiled slightly and took pity on her. “I actually do turn my own spindles.”
She laughed and smacked her hand against her knee. “I knew you would.”
Curiosity tightened his brows as he looked at her. “How did you know?”
Gina smiled and looked pointedly at the precisely piled wood. Nothing was thrown or ripped. It had all been dismantled as gently as possible. “You treat that staircase as if you were undressing a woman.”
Matt’s greenish eyes flared with heat, and he stared at her for a long moment. Gina’s breath stalled in her lungs as the tension built between them.
