CHAPTER TEN GABRIELLE
CHAPTER TEN
G AbrIELLE
I collect the broken spindles littering the ground and make a pile near the driveway. The front of the house looks a little bare without them, but no spindle is better than missing every third and every sixth one being broken.
My muscles groan as I stare back at the house and take in my handiwork. Not bad.
Aside from the spindles, the steps leading to the porch are gone. I tore out all the weeds popping up in the landscaping and yanked a few plants that were overgrown. The porch light that hasn’t been changed since at least the eighties is now in the trash can.
I still need to clean the baby trees out of the gutters.
The ladder leans against the house right where I left it. I shake it, summoning the courage to give scaling the rungs another shot. The gutters were going to be my first plan of attack, but I chickened out when a not-so-strong breeze nearly yeeted me across the lawn.
It felt like that, at least.
“Woman up, Gabby,” I say, sliding gloves out of my pocket and onto my hands. Then I grip the rails. “Get your butt up there and do the damn thing.”
Voices drift around the house, replacing the hammering and drilling from the last couple of hours. I place one foot on the lowest rung. Dylan and Jay will be here any second, and they’ll try to talk me out of going up there. Heck, they both have already tried today. Besides, if I’m ten feet up in the air, it’ll be harder for Jay to bring up our earlier conversation.
“Look, kissing you would’ve been giving in to the moment. Did I want to kiss you? Of course. You’re gorgeous. But it would’ve been wrong of me to do that because it wouldn’t have gone anywhere.”
Hmm. Right.
The gutters, Gabs. Get to the gutters.
The ladder is steadier than it was earlier. Still, I keep my weight leaning forward so I don’t tip backward. There’s no need to play with unnecessary risks any more than I already am.
Jay’s voice is warm, and the deep notes find me before I find him. The sound drags across my body, caressing it in a way that isn’t safe for a woman this far off the ground. Come to think of it, it wouldn’t be safe if I had both feet planted firmly on the soil either.
“Thanks again for the shirt.”
“Thanks again for the shirt,” I say, mocking Jay’s words that echo through my head. I scoop my hand in the gutter and fish out a heavy, water-laden pile of yuck. I ought to throw this on you, Jay.
Why has he convoluted my brain with all his mixed signals? He doesn’t want to connect with people. He accepted my coffee. He almost kisses me, calls me gorgeous. He went out of his way to help my sons. He doesn’t want anything, obviously, between us, but how am I supposed to understand his behavior?
Why come over here? Why show up for us two days in a row? Why air up Carter’s ball and help Dylan fix the porch?
My insides clench as I recall the bulge in his pants.
I don’t think he’s screwing with me to be a dick. But he’s screwing with me, nonetheless. And I plan on screwing with him right back.
I drop the pile of yuck into the bucket I hung off the ladder earlier.
“Mom on a ladder never ends well,” Dylan says.
I look down at him. “Very funny.”
“I’m going inside and taking a shower. I don’t want to see how this ends.”
“Did you get the deck all done?” I ask, ignoring Jay standing next to him.
Dylan nods. “Yeah. Jay helped me.” He peers at him out of the corner of his eye. “He let us have some boards.”
I can’t quite work out Dylan’s tone. It’s steady and void of overt sarcasm, but the edges of his words are a little too raw to be conversational. I hope he wasn’t a complete brat to Jay all afternoon.
I move my attention to Jay. The sight of his sweaty T-shirt clinging to his body makes my mouth water. Play it cool, Gabby.
“Thanks again for the boards,” I say, mimicking his words about the flannel.
He nods knowingly, shoving his tongue into his cheek. I smile with a cockiness I might regret later. Oh well. Gotta roll with it now.
“Can I go in?” Dylan sighs.
“Yes. You can go in,” I say. “Make sure you thank Jay for his help.”
He hops over the missing stairs and lands on the porch. “I did.”
“Dylan . . .”
The door closing is his response.
I look at the sky. “I love him. I love him. I love him.”
Jay chuckles.
“I hope he wasn’t so moody with you— whoa !” I lean forward and grip the rails so tight that my knuckles burn.
Jay’s gaze is hot on the side of my face. I don’t dare look at him.
“Why don’t you come down from there?” he asks carefully.
I take a deep breath and twist to the gutter again. “Because I’m cleaning the gutters.”
“I’m sure it can wait a few minutes.”
“Nah, I’m already up here.” I drag my hand through the sludge and dump another handful into my bucket. My stomach turns at the smell. “Gosh, that reeks.”
“If you come down, I’ll finish the job for you.”
“Thanks, but I got it.”
“Gabrielle . . .”
It’s the way he says my name that does it. Gabrielle. Like he’s exasperated that I won’t listen to his direction.
Well, Mr. Stetson, screw that.
“Look,” I say, turning until I can see him. But either I move too fast, lean too far away from the house, or the ladder is lopsided ... Or maybe it’s a combination of the three. For whatever reason, the ladder begins to tilt backward. I slam my chest against the rungs and force the top rungs to lie snugly against the roofline. “Ho-ly crap.”
My heart thunders. Sweat dots my back. I calculate how many broken bones I might wake up with tomorrow if I don’t start remembering I’m ten feet off the ground.
When I glance down, Jay’s hands are on the ladder. Judging by that heavy scowl on his face, he’s displeased.
This shouldn’t be that hot.
I don’t tell him that this isn’t helping. Maybe he’s keeping the ladder from rocking, but that won’t stop me from falling if my knees turn to gelatin from the heat in his eyes. His grip on the rails isn’t going to stop me from sliding straight down the metal as I melt into a puddle of orgasmic need.
He smirks.
I didn’t say that out loud, did I?
“Look, I’m sure you can do this on your own,” he says. “But taking a little help when it’s offered isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength.”
I roll my eyes.
“Come on, Gabrielle.”
“Come on . . . what?”
I return his smirk as the innuendo hits him in the face. His eyes darken.
Yeah, Jay. Imagine me just like that.
“Don’t worry,” I say. I slide my gloves off and drape them over the side of the bucket. “I don’t expect an answer. I already have it.”
“Answer it, then.”
I watch him over my shoulder. His features are severe, his jawline so sharp it could cut granite. It would be so easy to let him win this battle of wits ... if I were willing to lose.
“I can come on whatever I want as long as it has nothing to do with you.” I grin, lifting a brow. “Right?”
His eyes narrow.
“Oh, stop it,” I say, sighing dramatically as I move down the rungs. “Calm down. I know you don’t want me.” Or so you say.
He barely steps back enough to make room for me to get down.
My butt, then my back, brushes against him as my feet drop to the ground. A blast of heat burns through me and pools in my belly. Turning around is going to be akin to fireworks—I know this. But I also know I can’t refuse to face him either.
I brush my hands off and sidestep away from Jay. “So was Dylan a pain in the butt, or did he remember some of the manners I’ve worked hard to instill in him?”
“He was fine.” Jay’s words are strangled. Tight. “He learned a few things.”
“It’s always a good day when you learn something new.”
He clears his throat. “Looks like you got the spindles out. But what in the hell happened to the stairs?”
“Oh. Those. ” I focus on the spot where steps once stood. “They weren’t level, and I about fell through the right side yesterday afternoon while carrying groceries. I figured I’d rebuild them tomorrow when I put in the new spindles.”
I wait for him to respond. Once it’s clear he’s not going to, I finally look at him.
A grin graces his lips. His arms are folded across his barrel chest. Amusement plays across his features in the most relaxed, carefree way I’ve seen him.
It’s a sight to behold.
“Let me get this straight,” he says, shifting his weight. “You’re going to fix the railing. Build new stairs. Clean the gutters. What else?”
“Well ...” I turn to the house. “I think there used to be a ceiling fan on the front porch. So I’m going to see if I can figure that out. I’m going to install security cameras. Those are on their way from an online store. I want to do a little painting and fix a toilet that won’t stop running. Oh! And some of the outlets in the house need to be replaced. They’re on a dimmer switch, and it’s going bad. So the lights just kind of pulse in some rooms, giving us a headache.” I point at Jay. “But you can’t tell Cricket that.”
“Why not?”
“She thinks I can’t do electrical work.”
He hums. “I’ve not seen you in electrical action, but I’d wager that Cricket is right.”
I gasp. “Rude.”
He chuckles and moseys around the front lawn, stopping at various places to check out the house from different vantage points. I have no idea what he’s doing, but I could watch him move around all day. Even if I am mildly irritated at him for second-guessing my skills.
Finally, he stops traveling and makes his way back to me.
“The project I’m meant to work on this week got called off,” he says, slipping a hand into the front pocket of his jeans.
“Okay . . .”
“Let me come over and help you.”
“Absolutely not.”
He rubs his forehead.
“I told you that we’re self-sufficient over here,” I say, then wince. “I mean, your help has been appreciated. But we aren’t a charity case.”
“No one said you were.”
You implied it, though. I grab a rake off the porch and gather the weeds I pulled earlier.
“You’re sweet to offer,” I say. “But this stuff is fun for me. It’s the only fun I have left, and I don’t want to contaminate my happy place with someone helping me out of pity.”
“It’s not out of pity.”
I stop raking. “Then what is it?”
He holds my gaze as he walks to me. Every step he takes cranks up the temperature between us. He’s controlled and intentional.
He stops inches before me, towering over me by nearly a foot. His cologne fills the space between us with a scent I sniffed out of his flannel before I tossed it in the washer last night. It’s comforting and exudes strength, giving me a spark of excitement.
“Why can’t it be as easy as I have time on my hands and you have work to do?” he asks.
“Because no one wants to work if they don’t have to.”
“What do you want me to do? Do you want me to stand in front of my window and watch you climb the ladder and nearly fall to your death?”
I gasp. “First, I didn’t almost fall to my death. Second, I don’t care what you do. And third, what is it with you standing at your window? It’s a little creepy.”
He rolls his eyes.
He’s more agitated than I expected. And although I don’t understand why he’s hell-bent on helping me, I can’t say I don’t like it or that I don’t want him to. But winding him up—watching the self-contained Jay Stetson start to lose his precious control—is fun.
Besides, he almost kissed me . He has it coming.
“Hey,” I say, swinging my hips more than necessary to pick up my water bottle. “Did you ever think of any of your friends that might be looking for a hookup? They could come over and help me. It’d be a two-for-one. He could work with me and then work me .”
And . . . he delivers .
Jay cuts the distance between us in half. His eyes flare with irritation. His fists clench at his sides. He peers down at me like he wants to rip me in half—and I consider offering an invitation. But he’s already made it clear that’s not happening.
I’m not one to beg.
Although, I think he’s one to lie.
“Does that question bother you?” I ask, fluttering my lashes. “Because it seems like it does.”
Instead of answering me, he starts across the lawn. “What time are we starting tomorrow?”
“What?”
“What time do you want me here in the morning?”
I laugh. “I said I didn’t need your help.”
“I’ll be here at nine,” he says over his shoulder.
His insistence on helping me makes me smile. Sure, I can do all this on my own—or I can try, anyway. But having Jay around is exciting. And if I get to watch him work and get all sweaty for a couple of days, that’s just the cherry on top.
“Fine,” I say. “But you’re my assistant. Remember that.”
He shakes his head and disappears into his house. Even though I don’t quite understand what he’s up to, I smile all the way into mine.