13. Thea
13
THEA
What the hell was I doing? Being monumentally stupid, that was what.
Moose leapt onto the stool at the counter and slapped my arm with his paw as if to punctuate the point.
“I know I’m an idiot,” I told him. “I don’t need you telling me, too.”
He let out one of his warbled meows in answer.
I tossed him a piece of turkey. I wasn’t above bribing him so he wouldn’t give me grief.
I fed the kittens and took time to cuddle each one. Then I cleaned up after them. They were tiny, but they left chaos in their wake.
After that, I cleaned the kitchen. You could probably perform surgery on the countertops now. When I was finished, I peeked out the front window and regretted it the moment the curtains parted.
At some point over the hour I’d been scouring my house, Shep had lost his shirt. The white tee was draped over the side of his truck instead of on his body like it should’ve been. Holy biceps, Batman .
A flush of heat swept through me at the sight of him working: muscles bunching and flexing as he drove his shovel into the dirt, then heaved it into a pile, a faint sheen of sweat making all that muscle glisten under the sinking sun.
I quickly let the curtains fall closed, but it didn’t matter. The image would be burned into my mind for eternity.
I needed another task to busy my hands, so I went with meal prep. I told myself it was simple courtesy but knew I was a liar. I wanted more time to bask in Shep’s glow and kindness. Because something about him made me feel alive again for the first time in two years.
So, now here I was, trying to come up with the best sandwich possible. I took an idea from The Mix Up menu and twisted it. Two slices of the olive bread I’d made from scratch, garlic aioli, smoked turkey, the sharpest cheddar I could find, and arugula. Then finished it with some caramelized onions.
I sliced the sandwiches in two, put them on plates, and then pulled out the bag of homemade potato chips I’d stress-baked last night. The cracked pepper I’d layered on them and the salt gave them a kick that would pair well with the sandwich.
A paw slapped my arm again.
I glanced at Moose, giving him a warning look. “Don’t be rude. You’ve had more than enough.”
He barked at me. Because, of course, I’d found the only cat on the planet that barked. Well, it was more of a chirped bark, but still. Absolutely ridiculous.
I sighed. “You want to come with me?”
Moose meowed in answer.
“Okay, go get your harness.”
Maybe Moose could be the distraction I needed while coming face-to-face with Shep again. A second later, Moose raced back into the kitchen, a harness between his teeth. I bent and quickly put it on him, then grabbed two of the reusable glass bottles I’d filled with lemonade, putting them in the pouch of my overalls.
Looping the leash around my wrist, I got the plates and headed for the door. It was a juggling act to open said door without Moose taking off my hand, but I finally succeeded. As I stepped outside, I knew there wasn’t much daylight left.
I felt Shep’s eyes before I saw them. The warmth of his stare felt different than when anyone else looked at me. Other people were a prickle on my skin, but not Shep. He was a low, smoky heat.
I forced my legs to move and close the distance between us as I searched for the source of that heat. Shep’s amber eyes were locked on me, his expression unreadable but still warm. His gaze tracked over my face and down, then stilled for a moment on the drinks and the food. It froze altogether when he got to Moose.
“What the hell is that thing?”
It was just what I needed. A laugh burst out of me. “His name is Moose.”
“It should be Beast,” Shep said, still staring.
Moose hissed in response, and Shep’s brows flew up.
“Seriously?”
I grinned at him. “Moose can be a little touchy and senses if someone’s talking about him.”
Shep’s gaze returned to my face, shining that smoky heat there. “Whatcha got there?”
I suddenly felt a little uneasy. Embarrassed that I’d made the man a meal without even asking if he was hungry.
Shep seemed to sense my discomfort. “Thorn?”
My focus snapped back to him. “Thought you might be hungry.”
The smile that stretched across his face was like a straight shot of the sun. Pure light and warmth. It wrapped around me, digging in and illuminating places that had been dark for so long.
“You thought right.” He glanced at his truck. “Let me grab my shirt.”
Shep didn’t wait for my answer; he simply jogged toward his vehicle and tee. But I couldn’t help but keep watching how his muscles bowed and flexed in the golden sunlight.
A paw slapped my leg, and I looked down at Moose. “There’s no harm in looking .”
My cat just meowed .
“Here, let me take the plates. I feel like you need two hands for the beast,” Shep offered, his lips twitching.
“Sure,” I said, my voice going a bit soft.
“Where’s a good place to eat?” he asked.
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Now, I was kicking myself. I knew having him inside would mean me fighting panic the whole time, but the only furniture on my back deck was a single chaise lounge.
“Thorn,” Shep said quietly, “we’re not going inside, so take that off the table. I’m covered in dirt, so I’m happy to sit right here. But I want us to go wherever you’re comfortable.”
His words hurt. They were so unbelievably kind and understanding. So many emotions warred within me: embarrassment, gratitude, relief.
“The back deck,” I croaked. “We can sit on the steps.”
Shep’s smile was back. The sunlit glow cast out the shadows that swirled in my mind.
“That’s perfect.” He was already moving—not quickly but leading us to where we needed to go.
The newer deck had wide steps that gave us a makeshift table and chairs. Shep waited for me to sit and then sat several feet away.
I worried the inside of my cheek before speaking. “I’m not scared of you. Not like that.”
It was stupid of me to share the information. To even give him that piece. Because it would only lead to more questions. Things I couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. But I couldn’t stand the idea of Shep thinking I was frightened of him .
Shep’s eyes flashed, and then one corner of his mouth kicked up. “Maybe I’m scared of the beast.”
Moose let out a deep meow as if saying, “ Damn straight .”
“That’s fair. He is slightly terrifying,” I admitted.
But Shep scooted closer—near enough that our plates almost touched. He was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke. “I’d like to get to know you. I think it would help both of us, but I don’t want to ask you anything that makes you uncomfortable. Think you can give me some guidelines? ”
My throat twisted, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. I admired his forthrightness and lack of beating around the bush. “Let’s keep the questions to the present.”
Shep’s gaze roamed over my face, silently probing for the reason why, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he did as I requested. “Favorite flower in your garden.”
The tension bled out of me. “The peonies.” I gestured to the plants that had grown with a fervor I could’ve only hoped for. Everything was shades of pink and peach. Endless beauty.
“They’re pretty damn spectacular.”
Warmth spread through me at the praise. “And they bring the hummingbirds.”
Shep’s focus moved back to me as he took in my statement. “You’ve got lots of feeders, too.”
I nodded. “There’s something about them. It’s more than their beauty. They’re tiny but fierce. And they’re deft escape artists.”
He was silent for a long moment, and I knew I’d given too much away. But it was as if Shep understood that, too. His gaze trailed away from me and over my garden. “You definitely have the touch when it comes to plants.”
Relief swept through me, and I forced my fists to loosen. “I didn’t at first. I’ve had a lot of stuff die on me. But I got the hang of it about six months into the trial and error.”
“You learn way more by doing than you ever could from books or classes.”
I studied Shep for a moment. “Is that how you learned the contractor stuff?”
He nodded, leaning back on an elbow. “Mostly. I went to college for business and took some design and architecture classes. Worked on a local crew part time for all four years of school. But I learned all the core skills from my dad.”
I couldn’t imagine a father who took the time to teach an intricate skill like building. Mine had barely been around. And when he was, it had mostly consisted of screaming fights with my mom that then resulted in the cops being called to our small North Hollywood apartment.
But I hadn’t heard Rhodes mention a foster father, so I wondered what had happened to him. “It has to be pretty special that you share that.”
Shep nodded, taking a sip of the lemonade. “He knew I needed to be actively doing something to work through a problem, so he gave me the skills to do that. Sometimes, we’d end up talking about the issue. Other times, just doing the work helped me puzzle through it on my own. But even now, I sometimes hear his voice when I’m working.”
My fingers closed tightly around my bottle. “Did he pass?”
Shep’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Car accident when I was seventeen. Fallon and Cope survived, but Dad and my brother, Jacob, didn’t make it.”
Everything in me constricted, weaving into intricate knots. I couldn’t imagine losing both a father and a brother in a single moment. It made what I’d been through pale in comparison.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Those two words were so incredibly lacking, but they were all I had.
Shep’s amber eyes locked with mine. “Thank you.”
I had to break the connection. It was too intense. Shep was letting me see too much, making me want to lay all my secrets at his feet. My focus dropped to my plate, and I toyed with a chip.
Shep shifted, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take a bite of his sandwich. The groan that left his lips had my whole body waking up and standing at attention. The sound washed over me in a wave of vibration, and my gaze had no choice but to snap to his face. His lips.
“Holy hell, Thorn. This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. And we’ve got some amazing cooks in my family.”
Heat hit my cheeks, not with embarrassment this time but pleasure. It had been so long since I’d prepared something for someone else. I used to do it weekly for Nikki, and I’d had epic dinner parties with friends crowded into my apartment—before those friends were all turned .
I shoved that thought down and focused on the good of here and now. Zeroed in on how much Shep loved my creation. “I love coming up with recipes for things. It’s a fun little challenge. I take whatever I have on hand, in the greenhouse, and go all mad scientist.”
Shep turned as I inclined my head toward the building. He let out a low whistle. “That’s quite the setup.”
“I’ve always loved getting produce from local farmers markets, but here in Sparrow Falls is the first time I’ve tried to grow more than a basil plant on my own.”
Shep opened the sandwich, analyzing the contents. “You grow the arugula?”
I nodded. “And the garlic for the aioli. And the onions.”
Shep just shook his head. “My mom has a garden where she grows a few veggies, but this puts hers to shame. She’d love to see this.”
My grip on the lemonade bottle tightened. Having Shep here was stressful enough. Another person I didn’t know at all? It’d likely send me over the edge.
“Thorn,” Shep said. My gaze jumped to him. “That wasn’t me inviting her over for cocktails and caviar. It was just me saying that she’d love it and that I appreciate all you’ve put into this because I’ve seen her work on this sort of thing on a much smaller scale.”
My gaze dropped to Moose as he rolled on his back in the grass, attacking the blades. “Sorry.”
“There’s not a damn thing you need to be sorry for. This is your place. You make the rules.”
That burn was back, the pressure of tears gathering behind my eyes. Of frustration and embarrassment. I didn’t want to be like this. Yet I didn’t know how to stop.
Shep’s hand covered mine. The contact was gentle, yet it rocked me. The only two people who had touched me in any way over the past two years were Sutton and Rhodes. This was entirely different.
I could feel the calluses on Shep’s palm skating across the smoother skin of my hand. His heat seeped in there. It was that same sort of sunlight but from touch alone. My head jerked up, and I found nothing but empathy and kindness in his eyes .
“We all do what we have to do to make it through. I’m never going to judge you for what you need to feel safe.”
As I stared into those amber eyes, I knew Shep was telling the truth. But for the first time in two years, I wished I didn’t need to have all the safety precautions and walls to keep people out. Because as risky as it was, I wanted to let Shep in.