“Don’t have the tools for anything complicated,” he said briefly.
They pretty much left it at that, Ramirez just reminding him that he had to report any change of address.
Cole had checked out Craigslist and seen a few vehicles worth looking at. He didn’t let himself forget the cost of insurance and gas. If he had a job, he might quality for a car loan of a few thousand dollars that would extend the possibilities, but he doubted he could get a job without already having transportation. So—cheap car, upgrade later if necessary.
Assuming anyone would hire him, of course. He’d forever face the stigma of the felony conviction. He’d only been working something like six weeks. Whether that was enough to make a difference, he had no idea. The coward in him wanted to keep taking temporary projects, put off handing applications to strangers who’d drop them in the trash the minute they saw the checked box at the bottom. But it had to be done eventually. Would another month of this kind of work help? Two more months?
Construction was busier in spring and summer. It was already past the middle of May. Waiting too long to start applying wouldn’t be smart. Not many people would hire him to do this kind of small job once the rains started in the fall, either.
Still kneeling on Wagner’s porch, Cole felt cold despite the sun on his back. Once he got the new kitchen cabinets and sink installed in his apartment, he’d be left with painting the walls and replacing some of the molding. A matter of another week or two, if he worked hard.
Only when he heard the front door opening did he toss the rotten board onto the grass and apply the crowbar to the next.
* * *
“THANKS FOR OFFERING to help,” Cole said, taking a last swallow of coffee. “Ryan saw where I was at and came over to give me a hand with any heavy lifting.”
It was time to start clearing the table, but Erin didn’t want to give any signal that would have Cole excusing himself and leaving. After at least a week of seeming cool toward her, tonight he was friendly and relaxed. She just wished she knew why he’d been so distant all week. Had it been her questions?
“Well, he does have more impressive muscles than I do.” She flexed her puny bicep for the pleasure of seeing him laugh.
The change she’d seen in him was astonishing. He did laugh these days, and smiled often. He openly took pride in his work, and seemed to enjoy watching her garden take shape as much as she did. He’d offered to build an arbor over the walkway where it parted from the driveway, so she could plant more climbing roses. Before she could even open her mouth, he’d narrowed his eyes and told her not to say a word about pay. She could buy the lumber; that was it.
The labor and skill, she understood, was his way of saying thank you. So she’d only smiled and nodded. He had promised to build it as soon as he finished Del Wagner’s porch.
He stretched. “I think I’ll head up to the library. Nice that it isn’t getting dark so early.”
“You’re welcome to take the car.”
“Thanks, but I enjoy walking.”
“You must be a speed reader.” Unless he was lying about his destination, he went to the library several nights a week.
“A lot of the time I just use the computer.”
She frowned. “You don’t sound as if you had much exposure at Walla Walla.”
“I didn’t. Partly my fault. They offer some classes, like programming. The one I regret not taking was Computer-Aided Design. That would’ve been handy for planning small projects.” He shrugged. “Once I get a computer.”
“You know you’re welcome—”
“I’ll ask if I really need it.”
His terse response told her not to push it. “You couldn’t email?” she said, almost at random.
Cole shook his head. “Recently they’ve let some inmates buy a low-cost tablet that allows email. I wasn’t interested.”
Nobody to email. He didn’t have to say it.
“Dani...”
“Yeah.” His expression eased. “She would’ve liked that.”
Erin nodded. She’d been careful to ensure that they didn’t feel obliged to invite her for lunch last week, but thought she’d like Cole’s sister. Shorter than Erin and small-boned, Dani was still unmistakably related to him. Same hair color, same blue eyes, a chin that looked as if it could be as stubborn as his, and cheekbones that, while considerably more delicate than her brother’s, echoed his.
“I took some scones over to the Zatlokas. She told me how happy she is with her ramp.”
He raised his eyebrows slightly. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Have you met Lottie Price? Across the street and a few doors down?”
Cole didn’t move, but she felt new tension from him, anyway. “Yellow house?”
“That’s the one.”
“She another senior?”
“A contemporary of Nanna’s. They were friends and competitors. Their gardens, you know. Cooking, too.” Remembering, Erin smiled. “Lottie would bring over some banana bread and say sweetly, ‘I know you fuss over how dry yours always is. I’ll be glad to give you my recipe if you like.’”
Cole laughed. “What would your grandmother say?”
“‘How kind of you, Lottie. If you find your bread’s a bit soggy, I’ll be glad to share my recipe with you.’”
His grin lingering, he said, “Friends, huh?”
“They really were. They just enjoyed sparring.” More cautiously, she said, “Lottie asked about you. She’s been thinking she needs a wheelchair ramp, too.”
“Erin.” He sighed. “You need to quit looking for work for me.”
“She’d heard about the one you built for the Zatlokas! She asked because I was there, not because I was...was pitching your skills. The neighbors talk, that’s all.”
“So you set out to visit every single homeowner within a two-block radius—because you’ve decided to be sociable.”
“Yes!” Feeling warmth in her cheeks, Erin couldn’t help remembering Cole telling her she was a lousy liar. “Don’t you want the work?”
“I need to find my own jobs.” Suddenly, he sounded...hard.
She opened her mouth to ask why, then closed it. She knew. He must believe she didn’t think he could find a job on his own.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Erin looked away and nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry. I just wanted—” She broke off, pushing back her chair and getting up.
“I know what you wanted.” There he went, sounding so gentle she couldn’t stand it.
Erin grabbed her own dishes and carried them to the counter.
“I’ll go talk to this Lottie,” he said, his resignation clear. “But that’s it.”
Back at the table, she reached for the serving bowls. “I heard you,” she said stiffly. “You don’t have to worry.”
Moving with startling swiftness, his hand shot out and closed on her wrist. “Do you know why I don’t want any more help from you?”
She lifted her head to meet eyes darker than usual. Stormy. “It’s embarrassing.”
“I was a mess when we met. Now it’s time for me to do the important things myself.”
“Fine.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
His fingers flexed on her arm, and he abruptly stood, knocking his chair aside. He tugged her toward him. “I already wish things were different, that I was more—” He shook off whatever he’d been about to say. “Now you’re putting me in debt.”
“It’s not like that!”
“You really don’t get it, do you?” His expression oddly bleak, he released her wrist to put his hands on her shoulders. “Maybe this will give you the idea.” He bent his head and kissed her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HER LIPS WERE as soft as he’d imagined. Hazily aware that he was ga
thering her into his arms, Cole had trouble thinking. The pleasure of finally kissing Erin zapped him as if he’d opened himself to an electrical shock.
Shouldn’t have done this.
Too late.
She hadn’t moved at all, not to respond, not to pull away. God. She was probably in shock.
Cole began to lift his head just as Erin rose up on tiptoe to press her lips harder to his. She flung her arms around his neck, too. The kiss became clumsy and desperate. He nipped her lower lip: their teeth clanked together. If he’d ever had any skill at this, it had atrophied from disuse. Which didn’t seem to matter, because her body was plastered against his, his blood felt thick and hot in his veins, and she was kissing him with as much urgency as he kissed her.
Not one-sided, he thought exultantly. Why he’d started this eluded him. It didn’t seem to matter. Nothing did but the sensations bombarding him—her breasts pressed to his chest, her thighs to his, the quivering intensity running through her body and jumping to his. Her taste, the thick silk of her hair, the little sound she was making.
When his tongue touched hers, it was so damn erotic he jolted.
And thought, What am I doing?
Somehow, he wrenched himself away. One hand hadn’t gotten the message and still squeezed her hip, but at least a few inches separated their bodies.
Erin stared at him, her eyes dazed and heavy-lidded, her lips parted. She blinked, then again, and seemed to realize he wasn’t just catching his breath.
“What...what’s wrong?”
Wrong? Nothing. Everything.
“We can’t do this,” he said hoarsely. “I was...trying to explain something here.”
Her expression slowly changed.
“I already feel like roadkill under the tires of your fancy new SUV. I’d enjoy—” he managed to stop himself from being too crude “—sex with you. I guess you can tell.” He gestured toward his obvious hard-on. “But that’s one thing I’m not willing to do for pay.”
Still she stared, for another second, then cried out and leaped back. “That’s what you think of me?”
“No.” His mouth twisted. “That’s what I think of myself. We’re not equals. We can’t be.” Could she hear how desperately he wished it was different? That he could have her without savaging his pride? “I’m sorry. I owe you so much, I can’t start anything like this.”
She spun away. “Fine. You feel like the hired hand. I get it.” She opened the dishwasher and gazed into it as if she had no idea what the damn thing was.
He felt... He didn’t even know. His fingernails bit into his palms. “I’ll finish what I promised you.”
“Fine,” she said again, but stayed where she was.
Cole backed up until he bumped into the doorframe. He’d been an asshole when he didn’t have to be. He wished he knew what to say to make it all better, to go back fifteen minutes to when they were friends. But so much was churning inside him he couldn’t think.
“Thank you for dinner.”
The sound she made might have been a laugh.
* * *
WHEN SHE WAS sure he was gone, Erin slumped onto a kitchen chair. She labored for breath.
Cole had implied that she’d thrown herself at him. Attacked him. Like she’d expected him to service her in bed because of everything she’d done for him. But he was the one who’d started it. Wasn’t he?
A while back, he’d said something snotty about payback. Maybe that was what this had been. See how scummy you make me feel? Try a little of it, why don’t you? Was humiliation the whole purpose of that kiss?
If so, it had worked. At least she wasn’t crying. She was too stunned. Hurting, but also... She didn’t even know. Why would he do that? Make her feel so much, then lash out so viciously? Was that his version of “thanks, goodbye”? Maybe she’d been totally naive where he was concerned.
If she was careful, perhaps she could avoid seeing him. For all she cared, he could leave the apartment key on the doorstep when he left.
Did she still owe him any money? Erin didn’t think so. She’d stick a note on his apartment door reminding him to return her house key. Not like he’d want to make use of it, she thought painfully. Apparently, that was his message.
The agony swelled and receded like ocean waves. It stung like salt water did on raw flesh, too. Ever since she’d brought him home with her, she hadn’t felt so alone. She would have sworn a bond had formed. Maybe...maybe she was wrong, and she’d only been using him. If so...she wouldn’t apologize. She’d given everything she could in return. Too much, obviously.
Trying for slow, deep breaths, she asked herself what if, come morning, she found out he’d left? A huge hole seemed to open inside her. She reminded herself that he’d promised to finish the work on the apartment. He couldn’t do that overnight.
Yes, but it might be better if he did just leave. She really didn’t want to see him right now, and saying goodbye would be unimaginably awful. I’m such a fool, she thought, the pain cresting. She’d fallen in love with him, and he’d been looking at her with wariness and contempt all along. Pathetic, lonely woman who imagined she could buy him.
She was more than that. She was.
With a whimper, Erin buried her face in her hands. Why had he pretended to care? Tried to prevent her from going out at night? After the nightmare, spent all those hours holding her with such tenderness Erin couldn’t imagine.
When she lifted her head at last and managed to focus on the microwave clock, she saw that at least half an hour had passed. The hurt had...not dulled. It had left behind an ache, the way a horrible cough left chest muscles feeling strained.
She was mad, too. At herself, at him, at fate, if there was such a thing. She’d lived for this? Maybe tonight she should—No. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He’d know he was behind her need to ask Death again if she’d really been meant to be spared.
When he’s gone. Then I’ll do it.
* * *
COLE SNAPPED AWAKE on a flood of adrenaline. Had he heard an engine starting up? He lay completely still, listening for any sound. Nothing. He’d imagined it. Or she’d already escaped.
That thought provoked him into getting out of bed and padding to the front window that looked down on the driveway. The dark bulk of the Cherokee was there. Back in his bedroom, he stood staring at the house, also dark. He’d left his window open, in case—
In case what? Erin had another nightmare and needed him? Yeah, think how welcome he’d be.
He kept grappling with what he’d done. He’d dumped on her because...?
It was the only way to keep her from drumming up new jobs for him. Except he’d already asked her not to, and she’d agreed.
He’d needed her to know how much he wanted her. Why?
Feeling as if he’d been ripped open, Cole thought, I had to push her away before... He didn’t want to finish this explanation, but forced himself. Before I broke and made love to her. Before I got in so deep I convinced myself pride wasn’t worth shit.
His shoulders slumped. Nice to know he’d hurt her to save himself. What happened to all his deep thoughts as he lay in his prison bunk—about honor, about being a man who works hard and takes the high road? About becoming the kind of man who never would have been arrested, far less convicted? A man people would have believed?
If he was going to apologize, he had to bare himself. How else could he expect her to understand?
Cole flopped into bed, groaned and laid his arm over his eyes. Tomorrow, no excuses.
There wasn’t a lot left of the night. He dozed on and off, jolting awake often enough to leave him with a pounding headache come morning.
He winced at the sight of himself in the new bathroom mirror, big and brightened by the also-new, four-bulb vanity light fixture above. He look
ed like crap. The sleeplessness showed in eyes that appeared sunken and skin that seemed tinted gray. The hollows beneath his cheekbones would, in his opinion, remind anyone seeing him that the human face overlaid a skull. And damn, he wished his hair would grow out faster.
His hand seemed to have a faint tremor, too, that made him glad he’d finally bought an electric shaver and didn’t have to risk drawing blood with the straight razor. When he was done, he rinsed and dried his face before eyeing himself again. Shaving hadn’t improved the view. Maybe seeing how bad he looked would soften Erin’s anger.
Usually, he tried to have a decent breakfast—eggs and toast, or at least cereal. Today, he used a cup of coffee to wash down a couple of too-dry, powdered sugar donuts. Then he picked up his keys, startled for an instant when he remembered one of them was for Erin’s front door.
He’d be returning both of them soon. That knowledge gave him a pang. Being handed the key to the apartment had meant a lot to him. Privacy, independence. Strange that he could’ve accepted the house key from Erin without marveling at the trust involved. Two keys, two gifts, neither of which he could keep.
Shaking his head, he stuffed them in his pocket, and jogged down the stairs and up to Erin’s front door. He rang the doorbell, and heard the chime inside. Followed by...nothing. No lights, no footsteps, no voice.
If she’d had as crappy a night as he had, she might be sleeping in.
He wished he believed that.
He went to the garage to collect what he’d need to install shingles on Del Wagner’s porch roof. When he was done, he’d go talk to Lottie Something. Reluctant as he’d felt, Cole had calculated how much money he’d come out of it with and realized he couldn’t turn down the job. It would give him a little time to hunt for a five-day-a-week job and a room for rent.
Another gift from Erin, one he might resent, but had needed. And she’d known that.
He’d try to catch her at lunchtime. She couldn’t hide forever.
* * *
ERIN MANAGED TO ignore the ringing doorbell for the rest of the day. Working on the house would have meant sneaking out to the garage for paint and supplies, so instead she settled at the kitchen table with her laptop to do research. She started by looking for psychologists within a thirty-mile radius who had expertise in working with victims of trauma. She didn’t put much stock in online reviews for counselors, but she did note specific comments as she made a list.
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