“Besides me?” she asked, raising a brow at him over the top of her order pad.
Her snarky sense of humor always used to make him laugh, but his ability to banter had been another unfortunate casualty of the shooting. He flipped to the next page of the menu without really looking at it. Between the conversations around him and his pounding pulse, his concentration was shot. “Just give me coffee, black, please.”
“All righty.” She grabbed a steaming pot from a nearby station then returned with a plain white mug. “Our special today is homemade brioche French toast and applewood-smoked bacon, locally sourced.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping, and his throat dried at her nearness. “Not to hurry you along, but the manager gets irritated with campers.”
“Campers?” he managed to say, the word squeaking out like an old floorboard.
“People who take up tables without actually ordering anything.”
“Oh.” If that wasn’t a cosmic nudge to get going, Alex didn’t know what was. He coughed and frowned at the menu again. “Fine. I’ll have the special then.”
Alex slumped behind his paper as she walked away, doing his best to refocus his attention on the latest stock reports, tugging at the collar of his crewneck pullover and chugging down half his glass of water in one gulp. The aromas of sweet pastries and fried pork made his stomach growl. Back in Chicago he used to love eating out on Saturday mornings. He and Felicity used to go to a little bistro down from his apartment. They’d had the best crepes in town. But his appetite soon disappeared at the memory of his ex-fiancée and the life they had planned before the shooting. A hollow pit opened inside him, and his leg ached. She’d left him once the anxiety became too much. He couldn’t blame her. That wasn’t what she’d signed up for.
Wasn’t what he’d signed up for, either, but he was stuck with it.
So yeah. He was making the best of a bad deal.
The house would help with that, he hoped. Work always cleared his head and centered him in the past. He prayed it would do the trick now, too. Alex picked up his paper again, more as a shield against the curious looks from the people sitting around him than to read.
Mandy slid a plate in front of him a few minutes later, her voice overly cheerful as she said, “Can I get you anything else right now?”
“Uh, no. Thanks.” He set the Tribune aside and for the first time since his arrival, really looked at her. Dark circles shadowed the smooth skin beneath her eyes, and the diner’s humid air had curled a few wisps of hair around her face. An unexpected urge to brush those damp tendrils away from her pink cheeks had him clenching his fists at his sides. He had no business touching Mandy like that. Not now. Not ever.
She tilted her head, her gaze narrowing on him a moment before she shrugged. “Enjoy.”
Hands shaking, Alex watched her walk away then unwrapped his silverware and placed the napkin across his lap. The food looked good and tasted even better. The French toast melted in his mouth, all buttery goodness and maple sweet, with the bacon its perfect salty foil. His appetite returned full force, and he devoured it like a starved hamster. Once his plate was clean, he washed it down with black coffee, full and content for the first time in recent memory.
Mandy checked in with him a short time later. “How was it?”
Alex shifted his attention to the window across the way and the gathering line of people waiting to get inside. The silence grew and expectation clogged his throat. But the more he pressured himself the more the words refused to come. The clack of dinnerware snapped his attention back to Mandy once more. Finally, he managed to say, “Great, thank you.”
“Glad you liked it.” She finished clearing his table. “Be right back with your check.”
“Uh, sure,” he mumbled, straightening.
When she returned to place his bill in front of him, her arm brushed his and Alex shivered. For some weird reason, he’d become far too attuned to her since yesterday, and that was trouble. It took his frazzled brain a moment to realize she’d spoken again. “Sorry?”
“I said I can take that whenever you’re ready.”
“Oh, okay.” He dug out his wallet to hand her a twenty.
“Hey, Mandy. Get a move on,” a hulking guy in a grease-stained gray apron yelled from the kitchen. “You got other tables waiting.”
“On it,” she called back, flashing Alex a quick smile. “Let me get your change…”
Another waitress walked by with a huge tray of food just as the guy in the booth next to Alex’s stood. The two collided and dishes crashed to the floor. Alex was on his feet so fast his table nearly tipped. Heart racing faster than a thoroughbred, he grabbed his bag and rushed toward the exit, calling over his shoulder, “Give it to me later.”
Chapter Three
That afternoon, Mandy stood on the porch at the house and glanced at Alex’s storage pod parked along the curb, her heart in her throat once more. Maybe cutting her losses and heading to California right now wasn’t such a bad idea after all. But no. She’d vowed to make sure everything was settled with her mother’s estate before she left town for good, and she refused to break that promise. Even if her knees tingled with the urge to flee.
She took a deep breath then started inside, only to duck suddenly as something sailed past her head and clattered down the front stoop. Since when had this place become a war zone?
“Oops,” a male voice yelled through the shadows inside. “Didn’t know anyone was out there.”
A supersized guy in stained overalls with a red bandanna wrapped around his head appeared in the doorway. Sunlight revealed his tattooed arms and paint-covered hands, one of which was extended to help her straighten. “Sorry again. I’m Jack Carson, by the way.”
Mandy didn’t recognize his Sons of Anarchy appearance, but the name rang a bell. “Wait. You’re not the same Jack Carson who got bullied outside Heavenly Falls High every day, are you?”
“Same.” Jack frowned, squinting at her. “Have we met?”
“Yep,” she said, grinning. “It’s me. Mandy Reynolds. Alex’s annoying ex-stepsister.”
“Oh, wow! He mentioned you were back in town, but you look different. All grown up.” He scanned the faded jeans and bright yellow T-shirt with a smiling sun on the front she’d changed into after her shift at the diner. His gaze returned to hers and he smiled. “How are you?”
“Good.” She tucked a piece of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “I’m sure Alex probably mentioned the situation with the house to you, so yeah. It’s—”
Before she could say more, Alex moved into the doorway, insinuating himself between her and Jack. He scowled at Mandy. “What are you doing here? I thought you were working.”
“My shift ended at noon,” she said, lifting her chin, refusing to let him intimidate her into leaving. Her own fears about owning this house were doing a fine enough job of that already. Shoulders squared, she grounded herself in place. “Figured I’d come and help start the cleanup. The sooner it’s done, the sooner this situation will be over with, right?”
Alex’s lips compressed and he breathed out through his nose before giving a curt nod and heading back inside. “Right. C’mon then.”
Mandy trailed after him into the foyer, noting the boxes of cleaning supplies and tools scattered about, along with several high-powered construction lights gleaming from different corners of the space. Under the harsh illumination, the need for serious renovations to the place were even more evident. More work, more time needed. More time, more chances of getting trapped under this house indefinitely. Her pulse kicked up another notch despite her efforts to stay calm. Her dry throat made talking harder, but the awkward silence was worse, so she said, “Wow, looks like you and Jack are prepared with all those supplies.”
“Yes.” Alex said, his tone frosty as they entered the kitchen. “Picked them up at the superstore earlier. W
anted to be prepared, since I’m moving in tonight.”
Oh. She swallowed hard, doing her best to hide the surprise from her expression. She’d figured they’d both wait until the place was at least cleaned before taking the plunge, but obviously not. Mandy glanced around again at the dull floors and peeling paint, her breath catching, her throat burning. Sure, she wanted to get out of Gina’s hair as quickly as possible, but she also wanted to avoid getting eaten alive by dust mites.
“Tonight?” she managed to squeak out past her constricted vocal cords.
“Yep.”
The smell of pine-scented floor cleaner filled her nose. Looked like Alex had already gotten this room underway. The cabinets were still a hideous neon green, but they practically sparkled with cleanliness. Same with the beige countertops and the tile beneath her feet. While Alex worked on the door of the dishwasher, her mind wandered back to how he’d hightailed it out of the diner earlier, causing her wonder about his leg again. All she’d gotten out of him so far was that there’d been some kind of accident while he’d worked for the IRS, and that told her basically nothing. She’d lost touch with him and his family after their parents had divorced, and her mom had never mentioned anything to her about Alex, so she had no clue how he’d hurt himself.
While he fiddled with the dials, her eyes snapped to his backside. Not intentionally, of course. It just happened because it was there, in front of her, looking all taut and tight in those faded jeans and…
The sound of a clearing throat had her glancing up to find Alex watching her with an annoyed expression.
Damn. Busted.
Her cheeks prickled hot and she looked away fast, flustered. What the hell was wrong with her, ogling Alex’s butt? She had no business eyeing him like a side of choice beef. They were stuck in this house together because of her mother’s will; no need to make things more complicated than they were at present.
“Something I can help you with?” he asked, brow raised and expression pinched.
“No.” She wanted to tell him where to get off, but that probably wouldn’t help things, either, so instead she gave in to the curiosity tingling inside her gut. “How’s your leg today?”
“Same.” He mumbled, a bit of the bluster seeming to go out of him as he leaned his hips against the edge of the counter and crossed his arms, drawing her attention to the way the material of his black T-shirt hugged the contours of his muscled torso and biceps.
Stop it.
Mandy shuffled her feet and hung her head, searching for something to say that wouldn’t make her feel more embarrassed than she already did. “Uh, where should I start cleaning? Upstairs?”
He stared at her a long moment. “Look, Mandy. I appreciate you wanting to help.” His dubious tone said the opposite. “But are you sure you want to do this today? The place is still pretty rough, and you were always squeamish about bugs. No one’s lived here in a few months and even longer upstairs. Jack sprayed the place down earlier, but a real exterminator can’t come until Monday, so there could be all kinds of critters living on the second floor. Maybe you should just let me handle it for now.”
Yeah. She might’ve lost touch with Alex over the years, but she’d never forgotten the sting of his dismissal. Lord knew she’d felt it enough times thirteen years ago. In fact, his patronizing words felt all too familiar to the brush-off he’d given her when she’d asked him to be her date to the homecoming dance her freshman year. God, what an idiot she’d been. Of course, he’d said no. Why wouldn’t he? He’d been in college, a grown man, and she was just some stupid lovesick teenager drooling in her cornflakes over him.
Well, Mandy wasn’t fifteen anymore, and she wasn’t about to let him shove her aside again. She had too much at stake here. Bugs or no bugs, she was going in. “I can handle it.”
Alex blinked at that, something akin to admiration flickering through his eyes before disappearing in a flash. He opened his mouth then closed it when Jack’s voice echoed down the hallway.
“Hey, Lex. What do you want me to do with these plaster pieces from the ceiling? Some of them are pretty banged up. Not sure they’re salvageable.”
“Hang on. Be right there,” Alex yelled back before focusing on Mandy again. “Well, if you want to start upstairs, the supplies are in the foyer.”
“Great,” she said, glad for something to do that didn’t involve being around him. For whatever reason, having him close again was screwing with her head, and she didn’t like it. “I’ll get started then.”
As she passed him, his sandalwood and soap scent drifted and sent a fresh wave of awareness sparking through her bloodstream before she could stop it. She looked back at him over her shoulder, not realizing how close they were—close enough to kiss him, if she leaned in slightly. Her stomach bottomed out at that mental picture, and she hurried away fast. “See you in a bit.”
Stop thinking about his lips. Stop thinking about his lips.
But the more she scolded herself, the more she kept picturing them, so instead she switched to remembering her big-picture goals—Hollywood, freedom, fulfillment of her dreams. None of which involved Alex or his lips.
Mandy grabbed a box in the foyer and filled it with a gallon of industrial strength disinfectant cleaner, sponges, a bucket, a mop, and a face mask to protect her from the copious amounts of dirt in the air before heading up to the second floor.
“If you need any help, give me a yell,” Jack called from the parlor.
“Will do,” she yelled back, fumbling with the box of supplies in her hands. “Thanks.”
On the landing, she sat her heavy load on the floor and looked around for a place to start. The large bedroom with the bathroom next door seemed good. When she moved in, she wanted to keep as much space as possible between her and Alex. Given his leg injury and the fact he’d staked his claim first, she’d let him have the master suite downstairs. She’d take the second floor as hers. She filled the bucket with cleaner and water, grabbed her mop and sponge, put on her mask, then headed for the bedroom, only to stop short on the threshold. Bright midday haze glowed through the grim-caked windows, spotlighting all the cobwebs.
Her gut heaved and her skin tightened, but she forced herself to breathe.
Alex had said Jack sprayed up here already. It was fine. Everything was fine.
There was a ladder in the corner, so she climbed up to start tearing down the webs from the ceiling. The face mask helped keep the dust out of her airways and, with her earbuds in, she soon got into a groove. Flo Rida sang about having a Good Feeling and she worked her way down the wall to the opposite corner, poking a dangling large brownish dust bunny with her mop to dislodge it, but it didn’t move. She knocked it again, harder this time. The stubborn thing stayed put, but a crack opened in the side of it, sending a flood of tiny black dots streaming down the wall. Weird. As far as she knew dust bunnies weren’t liquid. The more she squinted at the tiny objects, though, the more she made out legs. Legs and bodies. Legs and bodies and beady eyes and—
OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!
Spiders. Spiders were everywhere. All those legs and beady eyes and fangs. Her breath came hot and fast, trapped against her face because of the mask. The rush of blood in her head drowned out the music in her ears, and her shaking legs threatened to topple her off the ladder, directly into the swarming mass of horror now covering the floor beneath the ladder.
Nowhere to go. No escape.
Her lungs seized, and dark spots grew larger at the periphery of her vision. She was going to pass out. Pass out and fall and be devoured by those spiders with their fur and fangs. She had nightmares about spiders with fangs.
She clung to the ladder and tried to scream for help, but all that emerged was a breathless gasp. “Help! Please help me!”
The cold metal ladder dug into the scalding skin of her cheek as the world darkened around her. This was it. The end.
>
See you soon, Mom.
“Mandy, I was thinking…” a voice said from what sounded a million miles away. “What the—”
The curse was lost amid the clamber of heavy work boots up the ladder behind her. Soon a warm, hard chest pressed against her back, and two strong arms slid around her waist, holding her close, protecting her from insect evil. She whimpered with relief.
“It’s okay,” Alex said against her temple, his lips brushing her skin and making her shiver. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, not trusting her voice. All Mandy wanted at that moment was to turn and bury her face in his neck so she’d never have to see the awful spiders again, but he held her in place, his heart racing in time with her own.
“Jack?” Alex called, his words rumbling through her, deep and reassuring. “Can you bring that bug spray up here again please?”
Mandy rested her forehead against one of the rungs, battling the urge to puke.
“Oh man,” Jack said moment later from the doorway, a large metal can and a hose with a spray nozzle in his hand. “I sprayed in here earlier, I swear. Sorry, Mandy.”
“It’s fine. Just please make sure they’re all dead this time while I get her out of here.” Alex yanked her off the ladder and into his arms before carrying her out to the second-floor landing and placing her gently on her feet. He removed her face mask and tossed it aside before pushing her static-filled hair away from her face. “Will you be okay here for a minute?”
She nodded, swallowing hard against the bile burning her throat and holding onto the banister for dear life.
Alex hobbled down the stairs as quickly as he could, then returned a few minutes later with a bottle of water and a folding chair. He cracked open the water and set up the chair before settling her into it and thrusting the cold drink into her trembling hand. “Drink something. You’ll feel better,” he said. “Just give it a minute.”
“I’m sorry. I feel like such an idiot.” Her stomach cramped as she chugged the cold water then held the bottle against her heated cheek. “There were so many of them. So. Many.”
Worth the Wait Page 3
