He follows me down the stairs and together we clean up the mess in the den. The water damage upstairs isn’t a surprise and thankfully, since the flow had been turned off up there, the mess we cleared wasn’t a wet one.
After our last load to the dumpster, Noah pulls out his wallet. “I was hungry before. Now I’m starving.”
“You’re already doing so much. The least I could do is buy you dinner,” I argue.
He holds out a couple of bills to me. His smile does not fade when I grumble how stubborn he is.
“And take my truck,” he orders.
I roll my eyes but don’t fight him. After he heard my brakes he started making me use his Chevy. He got me an appointment with his mechanic for later this week.
Besides, driving his truck is fun. My dad has one a lot like it and he never let me drive it. I also like what it says about how Noah feels about me. I mean, aren’t men supposedly notoriously protective of their vehicles? I like that he trusts me with it.
My eyes move to my house before I pull away. Being the last house on a dead end street gives the illusion that my house isn’t in a city. It’s not downtown or anything but there is still a great selection of restaurants. I drive to a burger place and order easily for both of us. It’s crazy, I’ve known Noah less than a month but I already know so much about him, if knowing what someone would order from multiple places counts.
When I get back to the house with our food, I’m pleasantly surprised to see Abby’s car. She’s checking out the hole in my ceiling when I come in.
“Hey Finley,” she greets, walking over to hug me.
“Hi Abby.” I give her a one armed hug. “I wish I knew you were coming. I would have gotten you something too,” I add, lifting the food bag as explanation.
She shrugs. “I ate before I came and,” she gestures to her jogging shorts and t-shirt. “I’ve come to work.”
The couple of times that I’ve seen her she has always been dressed to the nines. Now here she is in workout clothes, her long light brown hair up in a messy bun, to help me. My mouth falls open and my nose starts stinging for some reason. “Really?”
She grins. “You guys eat while I check out all the work you’ve done.”
After Noah and my first dinner, I moved the bistro table and chairs into the house. Luckily, I set it up in one of the front rooms. Noah and I both settle around it.
“It’s amazing how much better this place already looks, apart from the giant hole in the ceiling,” Abby says as she explores. “Especially the front yard.” Then she tilts her head toward Noah and asks. “Did Gideon clear it?”
Noah sets his burger down and leans back in his chair. “You know he gave me the stuff to do it.”
She shrugs and then looks at me. “If he ever sees this place in person he’s going to want to do your landscaping.”
I have to cover my mouth to hurriedly finish my bite before I ask, “Why?”
“He loves these old houses.”
“Who doesn’t?” Noah queries.
Noah has made it clear he enjoys working on historic homes.
“It must run in the family,” I say.
He surprises me by reaching across the table to smooth the pad of his thumb across the corner of my mouth. “Mustard,” he says, showing me his thumb. “And, I love them more.”
He then shocks the hell out of me by bringing his thumb to his mouth and licking my mustard from it.
Holy crap, he just licked my mustard.
“You okay?” He asks, breaking my trance.
He caught me staring at his mouth.
Nodding, I gulp then grab my napkin to dab at my mouth in case he didn’t get it all. I don’t respond verbally to Noah’s words, other than the bloom of warmth within my chest.
Abby grins at both of us before walking over to one of the piles of wood flooring. “Love this shade. These will look amazing once they’re installed.”
“Thank you,” I beam.
Once Noah and I are finished eating, the three of us get to work. It’s clear that Abby is no slouch when it comes to hanging drywall. I end up helping her by holding up pieces for her to screw in while Noah tackles the guest bath.
Each time he lumbers down the stairs with a load of debris I cringe. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
“Nope, I’ve got this,” he replies.
Two hours later almost all the drywall for the back half of the house, minus the ceilings, is up and Noah has gutted the upstairs bathroom.
“We’ll start the front rooms tomorrow,” Noah suggests.
The progress is good but since it hurts like hell to lift my arms, I’m not looking forward to more work.
Abby gives me a limp hug. “You two have fun with that. I’m going home to take a long hot bath.”
I sag. “I would kill for a bath.”
Abby gets a mischievous look in her eyes before saying, “Noah has this incredible soaking tub at his house.” She smacks his arm. “You should let Finley use it some time.”
I’ve been out of high school for close to two decades but that does not stop me from blushing at her suggestion.
I lift my hands, “Oh, no, no, no. I’m fine. Really.”
Noah stares at me, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t mind.”
A toilet crashed through my ceiling today, now I pray for an anvil to do the same and put me out of my misery.
When I don’t reply, Noah continues. “No arguments, you’re coming home with me tonight.”
“No, I’m not,” I grumble.
“Yes, you are,” he argues. “You’re going to take a bath and sleep in a real bed tonight.”
Abby’s gaze moves back and forth between us like a spectator watching a tennis match.
“I appreciate the gesture but it’s unnecessary. I’m perfectly fine here.”
“I know you’re fine here, but there’s nothing wrong with accepting help when it’s offered,” he counters.
I fling my hands out to the sides. “What do you call all of this?” I gesture to the room around us. “You’ve already done too much. I already feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“Are we friends?”
I frown. That wasn’t a fair question to ask. I liked him. Even when I was in stranger danger mode I liked him. He’s annoyingly stubborn but it’s hard to hold that against him when what he’s been so stubborn about was helping me.
When I left Texas, I did it mainly friendless. See, when I found out the people I thought were my friends knew my husband was cheating on me, they stopped being my friends.
I didn’t plan on making new ones here. My ability to trust anyone outside my family was broken, or so I thought. Abby is a sweetheart, but it’s Noah who day after day is slowly earning my trust. We are friends or at least I hoped we are.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He nods. “So pack a bag.”
Abby moves closer to me and pats my arm. “He’s right you know. A night away from here would be good for you.”
Great, two against one.
My eyes lock with Noah’s blue ones. “Are you sure about this?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”
I pull in a deep breath, and then nod.
“I’m going to take off,” Abby says, giving me a sympathetic smile.
Noah loads his equipment back into his trailer while I pack a bag. I don’t have much but whatever valuables I do have, I pack up along with everything I’ll need for the night.
“I’m ready,” I reply, after locking up.
He comes over to me, taking my duffle bag from me. “Don’t sound so excited.”
“I don’t mean to be difficult when you’re being so nice,” I reply, annoyed at myself.
He loads my duffle into the back of the trailer before closing and securing its doors. I watch as he reattaches the trailer to the hitch of his truck.
It’s like watching him hang drywall all over again. There’s no wasted movement. He is so methodical and
controlled in his motions. It would have easily taken me twice as long to do it.
“You’re good with your hands,” I blurt.
When the implication of my words sinks in, my eyes widen. “I mean you’re good at the things that you do.”
He grins. “Yes, I am.”
I decide to keep my mouth shut for the foreseeable future to avoid saying anything else stupid.
Since I’m bone tired, he offers to drive, promising it’ll be no big deal to swing me back here in the morning. I don’t care enough to argue. On the drive over to his house, my curiosity builds. I’m more excited than I care to admit that I’m going to get to see Noah’s place. Especially since this visit was a spur of the moment one.
When you know company is coming, you have time to clean up and hide your vibrators, or whatever stuff a guy would hide. This is going to be seeing a side of Noah I’ve never seen before.
I hope he’s tidy. He doesn’t have to be a neat freak or anything. Still, you can tell a lot about a person by the things they surround themselves with. On second thought, maybe I need his place to be a turn off. Yes, that would be better for my mental health.
When we get to his place he backs his truck and trailer into a garage.
One look around his garage and I’m fairly confident his house won’t be messy.
“This is the cleanest garage I’ve ever seen,” I turn in a circle once I’m out of the cab of the truck, looking around.
He smiles. “My tools are my livelihood. I take care of them.”
A thrill races up my spine at the thought of being taken care of by a man like Noah Thompson.
8
Noah
I almost kissed her earlier, and now she’s in my house. Her fingertips coast across the granite of my kitchen island. “Your kitchen is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I swallow, liking the vision of her in my space.
“Did you do the work yourself?”
Before I can answer her, she stops me. “You did. I’m sure of it.”
“What makes you so sure?” I cock my head to the side in question.
She lifts her shoulder in a gentle shrug. There’s drywall dust in her hair and a sleepy expression on her face. “Are you sure you’re not gonna pass out in the tub?”
She gives me a sleepy smile. “I’ve done that before.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
She makes a pashaw sound. “Don’t worry. I’ve never drowned.”
“You’re not making me feel any better,” I laugh.
“You can talk to me through the door,” she offers. “If I go quiet you can yell at me and wake me up.”
I shake my head but know better than to argue her logic. “Right this way.”
“I like this room too,” she murmurs as we pass through my den. “Is it hard to put wood up on a wall like that?”
“Depends on where you want it.”
This question seems to confuse her. “It wouldn’t look good everywhere?”
I muffle a laugh with a cough. “How about you sleep on that?”
I lead her down the hall that splits off into the two bedrooms and hesitate at the doorway of mine. My bathroom is the nicer of the two and, if I need to talk to her through the door I’ll be more comfortable doing it from my bed.
“It’s through here,” I say, only slightly disappointed that I’m not showing her my bedroom for another reason.
“Is this your room?” She asks, pausing in the doorway.
“I’m not going to try anything funny,” I chuckle, and then explain, “The master bath is nicer than the spare.”
“I don’t need anything special,” she argues.
I disagree. “You haven’t seen the bath.”
That peaks her interest. She steps into the room and past me, pointing between the door to the bathroom and the master closet in a silent question.
I point to the door on the right and she moves, opening it. I stand back and wait. I don’t have to wait long before I hear her gasp.
“Wow!”
“Thanks,” I reply.
She spins to face me. “I’m going to take a quick shower first so when I take my bath I’m not soaking in drywall dust.”
“Here’s your bag. I’m going to shower in the other room,” I point with my thumb behind me. “I’ll knock on the bathroom door to let you know when I’m back in the room.”
“Thanks Noah. For everything.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
“Try and stop me,” she replies, smiling as she closes the door.
The wall of the spare bathroom shares that of the master. While I shower, I try not to think of her wet and naked on the other side of it. My body has other ideas so I turn the water from hot to cold and stand under its stream until I’m able to control my response.
Showered and dressed in a pair of loose pajama pants and an old t-shirt I walk back into my bedroom. I’ve never stood in here and listened to another person shower.
I’ve brought women home before but if they showered the next morning, they didn’t do it alone. The water turns off and I knock on the door.
“Alright in there?” I ask.
“You have an amazing shower,” she calls out in response so I can hear her over the fan.
I grin at my door in agreement.
As I settle myself on my bed, I hear the water turn back on, this time to fill the bath. She surprises me by opening the door.
I sit up, my mouth falling open when she slowly walks into my room, wearing my robe.
“I hope this is okay.” Her voice is quiet, with a hint of shyness as she motions to it. “I thought it would be weird if I came out in a towel.”
My gaze starts at her bare feet and then travels up her shapely calves. My old terrycloth robe starts there. It covers her but does not hide her figure. I make a point to commit what she looks like, standing in the doorway of my bathroom in my robe, to memory.
“Watching a tub fill is like trying to watch a pot boil,” she explains.
Needing to get my mind off of her standing there in my robe, I ask, “You liked the shower?”
Great, now my mind is on her naked in my shower.
She nods. “You’re going to regret letting me use it. Now that I know how amazing it is I’m going to pester you to let me use it again, and help me put in one like it at my place.”
Settling myself back onto my pillows, I reply, “No pestering needed, and you can use it anytime.”
She smiles down at her feet before lifting her face to meet my eyes. “Do you really think we can do something like this at my house?”
“I put this one in. I don’t see why we couldn’t do it again at your place.”
“With the wood stuff on the walls?”
I press my lips together and nod. She turns, and steps back into the bathroom before coming right back out.
“I’m going to get in the tub now.” She gestures with her thumbs over her left shoulder.
“Turn off the fan so you don’t have to shout,” I say as she steps back into the bathroom.
She sticks a hand out, giving me a thumbs up before closing the door and I laugh. I’ve laughed more in the past few weeks with Finley than I have with any other girl. She’s funny, beautiful, and driven. I listen to the sound of water splashing, imagining her stepping into the tub.
“You still awake in there?” I call out.
“Yes,” she replies before yawning loudly.
“Don’t fall asleep,” I order.
“I don’t know what I like more, your shower or your tub.”
“I’m more of a shower guy.”
“Why’d you get the fancy tub?”
“Can’t have the tub not hold its own against the shower when it’s time for resale,” I explain.
“Are you thinking of selling?”
“Not right now, but I don’t think I’ll live here forever. It was the garage that sold me on it originally.”
I hear water splash befor
e she asks. “Do you think I made a mistake not buying a house with a garage?”
Do I tell her I’d never buy a place without a garage, no. “You’ll want one when winter comes.”
“No, I plan to hibernate in the winter,” she argues.
I choke back a laugh. “Hibernate? Like a bear?”
“Sure, you have those up here don’t you?” She jokes.
Not touching her bear comment, I ask, “What are you going to do for food?”
“Oh, I’m sure I could pay a delivery service to do it for me.”
“What about winter sports? You don’t want to go skiing or ice skating?”
She answers my question with one of her own. “Do you have ponds you can skate on out here?”
“Sure. But, most people still go to rinks.”
“When I was little I took skating lessons.”
“Oh yeah?” I can’t help but picture her in one of those sexy skating get ups. “I played hockey.”
“You did? Isn’t that sport pretty rough?”
“It could be, but we wore pads.”
“I’m turning into a prune and I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I’m getting out now.”
I listen to the water splash, as she must be stepping from the tub. After a couple of minutes, she comes out wearing flowery shorts and a blue tank. Shifting off my bed, I take her duffle from her.
I cringe when I open the door to the spare room. I forgot about some boxes I had moved in here. Dropping her bag by the door, I grab them off of the bed and shove them into the closet.
“Sorry about that.”
She looks around then tilts her head to the side. “You do remember what my house looks like right now?”
I reach up to scratch the back of my head, not wanting to admit I was hoping to impress her.
“If you need anything. Let me know.”
“Thank you.”
Before I can tell her to stop thanking me, she presses her fingers to my mouth, silencing me. “Let me thank you. Please.”
I nod, her fingers moving with my head.
Pulling her hand back she gives me a sweet smile. “Good night Noah.”
“Good night Finley.”
I close her door behind me but leave my door open in case she needs something during the night. With her across the hall, I expect it to be hard to fall asleep, not taking into account how worn out I am.
Fix Her Up (The Fix Book 1) Page 8
