Yeah, he thought she was right.
“Either tomorrow or Sunday we can go by the high school or middle school,” she suggested. “You can get the feel of my Cherokee before we head out onto the road.”
He finished another slice. “You’re paying me to work.”
“By the time we do errands, buy the lumber for the stairs and unload it, you won’t want to start, anyway.”
That was true. He didn’t love the prospect of her watching critically as he relearned to drive, but he had to live with it.
“Did you ever operate heavy equipment?” she asked. “I mean, when you were doing construction?”
“Bulldozer and forklift. That’s not really like driving a car.”
Conversation drifted. He would’ve eaten in silence, but he liked listening to her talk. Watching her, too. She had such an expressive face, her eyes changing color with her mood, her lips curving or pouting, her nose often wrinkling. He liked the tiny dimple that formed beside her mouth when she smiled. It was hard not to wonder whether her hair was silky or coarser, how soft that fine skin would feel to his fingertips, whether she ever smiled when she kissed a man. Looking—that felt safe. Whenever he imagined touching her, though, he got aroused, and that was dangerous.
She started talking about the garden her grandmother had tended so lovingly until her health failed.
“My grandfather had a vegetable garden in back.” She smiled. “I had no idea that corn and peas taste better when they’re really fresh.”
He nodded.
“That’s a lot of work, though. I’d like to restore some of Nanna’s flower beds. I’ve read about old roses. I think I’ll look into whether there’s a local nursery that sells them.”
What made a rose “old” versus “new” he couldn’t guess. Right now, he just let her talk.
“I want climbing roses in front of the porch. White and pink. And maybe one on the south side of the house that reaches up to my bedroom.” She focused on him. “I could have you build a trellis.”
“I can do that.” Once he found out what she had in mind. “There’s one rose still alive in front. The canes are pretty long, so I think it must be a climber.”
Erin nodded. “I’m hoping that’s the pink rose I remember. One of her two climbers always got rust or black spot or something. She was constantly spraying it.”
“It’s probably the one that didn’t survive.”
She brightened. “That’s true.”
Eventually, they boxed up what was left of the pizza and slid out of the booth. He stayed vigilant, as if his role was bodyguard, and was very conscious of her walking in front of him.
After they’d climbed into her SUV, she said, “Maybe next time we do this, you can drive home.”
Nice thought, although her dashboard looked like a control panel in a spaceship to him. Electronics seemed to have taken over cars, like everything else. And it wasn’t as if he’d been driving the latest model before getting arrested.
After graduating from high school, he’d worked six months or so in an auto body shop, then had done construction without staying with any one contractor. Save money? Why would he do that? Cole had taken a lot of pride in the ’98 Pontiac Firebird he’d bought on his own, though.
He’d scraped up what cash he could and sold his car in a useless attempt to pay for better legal representation than the public defender assigned to him. But it had been all too obvious that the woman he’d hired didn’t believe in Cole’s innocence. Hard to convince a jury when your own attorney only went through the motions.
As always, he made himself close a door on his anger. Bitterness would corrode him if he let it loose. Fortunately, shutting it down had become easier since the day Erin had run out of the hardware store to offer him a job.
* * *
COLE GAVE HER a quirky grin. “I could crash through the gym wall.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
In fact, he put her Cherokee in Drive and set out sedately to circle the middle school parking lot, do some figure eights and finally brake gently.
He looked so happy, so she said recklessly, “Let’s head out on the streets.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Although she really ought to check with her agent to find out whether her insurance would cover a driver using a learner’s permit. Maybe she needed to add his name. And, while she was at it, she’d transfer her insurance to a local agent.
They drove around for a while, Cole stopping a few times to practice parallel parking, even though she didn’t think he’d have to do it in the driver’s test.
“Most of downtown has only parallel parking,” he reminded her.
He certainly didn’t need an instructor, which was fortunate, given that she was completely distracted by her awareness of him. This was an ideal opportunity to study him without embarrassing herself.
Great cheekbones, a strong jaw and those light blue eyes made him male-model handsome. Erin was pretty sure he didn’t see himself that way, but it was true. His hair was noticeably growing out. It wasn’t as dark as she’d thought it might be. Kind of a nut-brown.
She kept sneaking peeks at his powerful thigh muscles, flexing as he moved his foot from the gas pedal to the brake and back. He wore khaki cargo pants, which suited him, the cotton fabric stretched taut over those muscles. He had a strong neck, too, the lick of a tattoo she’d decided was flames reaching above a T-shirt that also hugged impressive muscles.
Mostly, she loved his forearms and hands. Sinews and veins showed on his arms, and he had thick wrists and big hands to go with his size. They weren’t hairy, like some men’s. She’d seen him effortlessly rip boards loose with those hands, but also do delicate tasks.
Erin hoped he couldn’t tell that she was melting inside just from imagining his hands on her body.
She wasn’t the only woman who had that reaction. So far, he either didn’t notice other women staring, or pretended he didn’t, which she appreciated. Maybe he was so accustomed to women lusting after him, he could shrug it off. Except...had there been any women where he’d been held?
He also looked a lot healthier than he had when she first saw him in the hardware store. His color was better, his face no longer gaunt. Working outside, he’d picked up some sun, too.
“Why don’t we stop at the grocery store while we’re out?” she suddenly suggested. “I need some veggies.”
He flicked a glance at her. “Okay.”
She was counting on parting ways inside, as they always had. To her dismay, he picked up a basket and waited politely for her to maneuver a small cart into the store.
When he strolled beside her into the produce department, she said, “Don’t you need anything?”
“Not especially, but I’ll pick up some fruits and vegetables, too. I don’t eat enough of them.”
Watching as he gently fingered cantaloupes until he found one to his satisfaction had her mouth going dry and her knees unsteady. When she wrenched her gaze away, she was annoyed to see shoppers eyeing him distrustfully.
She stepped closer and glared at one balding guy who was just standing there, as if he was afraid to turn his back on Cole. What was his problem?
It could only be the extremely short hair, Erin decided as they progressed from the fruit section to vegetables. So many people in their twenties and thirties had tattoos now, and the tiny glimpse of one on his neck wouldn’t disturb anyone. His size drew attention, too, of course, and there was that sexy saunter. The guarded expression and aloof air might not help—but when he glanced at her and raised his eyebrows, she saw amusement he would never have let her see even a week ago.
“What?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“Oh.” Darned if her cheeks didn’t warm. “Sorry. I was thi
nking.”
“About something deep?”
“No, um...” She cast around for an excuse. “Whether to buy romaine or red leaf lettuce. Or maybe one of those mixes in a box.”
Something that was almost a smirk told her he didn’t believe her.
The romaine looked tattered, so she snatched up a head of frilly red leaf lettuce and stuffed it in a plastic bag before dropping it in her cart.
She could invite him into her bed. But as she grabbed several bell peppers, Erin knew what a mistake that would be. Casual sex had never been for her. She was bound to get attached. Or was it more attached? Face it, she couldn’t afford to risk being devastated when he moved out, moved on.
Cucumber. Sugar snap peas would be good in her salads, too.
She really, really needed to stick to business.
* * *
COLE OFFERED ERIN the car keys when they left the store, but she shook her head and said, “You drive.”
The Jeep Cherokee was a lot bigger and heftier than his Firebird, but he liked the feel. Pleased at how comfortable he felt behind the wheel, he decided Erin was right; apparently, this was one of those things you never forgot how to do, once you’d learned. He was kind of sorry to get back to her place, set the emergency brake and turn off the engine. This time, she did take the keys. She also scooped up her grocery bags, said good-night and went in her house without issuing any invitation.
Lying in bed later, hands clasped behind his head as he gazed at the ceiling, he thought about their relationship. Keeping it simple was good. For whatever reason, she was vulnerable right now, which might make her susceptible. He’d despise himself if he came on to her. And if they did have sex, what would happen after?
Between one blink and the next, he imagined her—saw her—sprawled on her bed, naked, slim and pale and beautiful. Their legs were tangled, and his much darker hand stroked her. Slipped between her thighs. Damn it.
Why worry about after? a voice whispered in his head.
Even thinking that made him a son of a bitch. Erin had taken a chance on him. She wasn’t a woman he could dismiss the minute he was done with her.
He shifted uncomfortably, frustrated as he’d been from the minute he set eyes on her. He should be looking elsewhere, but how could he bring a woman to this apartment? Hell, without his own car, he couldn’t take that hypothetical woman anywhere. She’d have to do the driving. Here, where his bedroom window looked out at Erin’s, wasn’t an option. The idea felt distasteful.
Plus, available women were likely to be found at a bar or tavern, and places like that made him especially uneasy. The minute he walked into one, everybody in the place would turn to stare at him. With his luck, there’d be a couple of the kind of assholes who’d instantly see him as a challenge. He could not afford a fight.
Was this what the rest of his life would be like? Always knowing he didn’t dare take risks? He wanted to believe he could quit thinking this way once he was released from parole, but maybe not. Cops would never get over assuming the worst about him, he knew that.
His mouth tightened at the thought. His dreams of freedom had never taken into account the suspicion he faced everywhere he went. Somehow, people could tell on sight that he was an ex-con. He didn’t get it, but he couldn’t miss the stares.
What chilled him was wondering what he would have done if he hadn’t caught Erin’s eye. Would somebody else eventually have given him a chance and hired him? Did that only happen if you had family or friends to recommend you? Would he have gotten desperate enough to knock on his father’s door?
God, he hoped not. What Dani had said—about Dad finally believing that he’d been wrongly convicted—enraged Cole. If that was true, why hadn’t he written? Visited his innocent son? Had he expected Cole to come begging for a job or money?
At a soft sound outside, Cole stiffened. After a minute, he relaxed. Erin would have started the engine by now if she was going anywhere.
At least he’d been distracted from brooding about his father. Erin, though... Why wouldn’t she tell him where she went? Why did her eyes evade his even while she was saying as much as she did?
Thinking about tearing out the rotten steps proved more conducive to sleep.
At one point, he awakened abruptly, as he’d often done in his cell, thinking he’d heard a scream. But when there was no repetition, he decided it had been part of a dream he didn’t remember, and didn’t want to remember. He’d thought he heard screams other nights, too, but he was likely having flashbacks.
Strangely, this was the second night in a row that he’d jerked awake. Unsettled, he got out of bed and looked out his windows, but the night was quiet and especially dark. The moon must be covered by clouds.
The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning. He listened for rain but didn’t hear any on the roof. Except for that one interlude, he’d slept straight through, which meant Erin hadn’t gone anywhere last night.
Today might be the Lord’s Day, but he was eager to get started, anyway. Once he’d had a hasty breakfast, he glanced out the window. Gray skies persuaded him to add a sweatshirt on top of the navy blue tee.
Hauling up the garage door reminded him to suggest Erin buy that automatic opener for him to install. She didn’t have the muscle to lift this damn door on a regular basis.
He came out of the garage, wearing work gloves and carrying a crowbar and hammer, to find her waiting for him. In contrast to yesterday morning, she looked as if she might actually have slept.
“Do you need help?” she asked.
“Are you good with a circular saw?”
“Dad taught me how to use one, but it’s been a long time.”
Cole shook his head. “Then thank you, but no.”
“Are you starting at the bottom?”
“Yep. I’ll tear out and replace steps as I go.”
“You know we need to paint the garage, too, right?”
He hadn’t thought about why they had unopened paint cans left over, but he should have. He turned to assess the building. “Yeah. I guess we do.”
“I figured we should wait until you replace anything that’s rotting.”
Another few days of work. The relief was unsettling. “Once I finish the stairs, I’ll check the siding.” He glanced upward. “I hope it doesn’t rain.”
“Me, too.” She smiled. “Since you don’t need me, I’ll get to work digging out the front flower beds.”
“You want me to scythe the yard first?”
“Don’t waste your time. I’ll rent a weed whacker when you’re ready to do the yard. I’d buy one, except I doubt I’ll need it long-term.”
They separated to their respective labors, but Cole was in a position to keep an eye on her.
He’d have to ask her about old roses, he mused as he wrenched up a semirotted board with the crowbar he’d restored using steel wool and oil. Now that the house was painted, it did seem to cry out for flowers.
His hands went still as memories stirred of his mother, who had been a gardener. After she died, her flower beds were taken over by weeds. The next year, Dad planted them with grass seed. Now Cole saw it as symbolic. Despite everything, he still loved his father, who wasn’t a bad man. But the reality was, Mom had taken all the softness and color in their lives with her when she died.
Typical Dad, he apparently enjoyed trimming the boxwood hedge around their small yard near Green Lake, and seemed obsessed where the lawn was concerned. It had to be emerald green, cut to an exact length and weed free.
“Is something wrong?”
Startled, he looked down to see that Erin stood a few feet away, peering up at him. He’d been so damned lost in the past he hadn’t even seen her coming.
“No.” He hesitated. “Just thinking.”
“What about?”
As always, his instinct was to repel her curiosity. But what was the harm in her knowing?
He told her how the flowers disappeared from their yard after his mother died, to be replaced by the order and straight lines his father preferred.
He smiled crookedly when he said, “There was this house down the block that might have been a rental, or maybe the owner didn’t care about his yard. The lawn was always shaggy, but it was the dandelions that really ticked Dad off.”
“The seeds do have a way of spreading.”
“Yeah.” Kneeling on the raw wood of the step he’d just replaced, he found himself grinning. “I was twelve or thirteen, I don’t remember. I asked Dad why he didn’t sneak over there some night and spread weed-control fertilizer. He glared at me and said, ‘You ever hear of trespassing?’”
Erin laughed. “Did he do it?”
“I don’t know.” His smile faded. “I don’t remember those dandelions much after that.” He shrugged. “We’d started butting heads by then, and he gave up on making me do yard work.”
She was quiet for a minute, and he thought about going back to work. Then she asked, “Did he visit you while you were in prison?”
He clenched his jaw. “No.”
Her consternation showed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He gazed toward the house instead of at her.
“Do you miss him?” Her voice was very soft.
His esophagus burned. He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t say “yes.” His father had written him off. End of story.
After a moment, Erin nodded in acceptance of an answer that didn’t have to be spoken aloud, and turned to go back to the shovel she’d left leaning against the porch. He still didn’t move.
What would Dad say if he heard his son’s voice on the phone?
Did it matter? Cole asked himself impatiently. It would be healthier not to waste another thought on his father. From long practice, he shoved any regret down deep. He needed to get his butt in gear. Erin wasn’t paying him to stare into space.
Twenty minutes later, he was in the garage and had just set the saw aside when he heard the ringtone on Erin’s cell phone. Her very occasional calls weren’t his business, he told himself, gathering the two-by-fours he’d cut to length for the next several steps. But the minute he left the garage, he saw that Erin was looking toward him as she talked. He immediately knew why.
The Hero's Redemption Page 8
