Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
CASEY
I was glad Jesse decided to build the herb garden boxes instead of me.
There was much more to it than I’d thought.
He set up some workhorses in the backyard as well as his table saw.
He had all sorts of tools I had no idea how to use.
He sketched out a better rendering than mine then started cutting and measuring.
I got bored quickly. He let me hold the wood as he cut boards to lengths and assured me I was helping, but I was pretty sure I was being more of a hindrance with all my questions.
“I’ll go make lunch,” I suggested.
“Great,” he replied, measuring a piece of wood and checking his drawing.
“I’ll poke around the garden and stay out of your way.”
“Mm-hmm,” he agreed absently.
“I’ll hang some more wind chimes while you’re busy.”
“Sure.”
Then he stopped. “Wait. What now?”
I laughed. “Gotcha.”
He swatted my butt. “Go get me lunch.”
I made sandwiches, and he took a break, eating and sipping the iced tea I’d made.
“Do you think you’ll really get it done this afternoon?” I asked.
He nodded, wiping his mouth. “I have the legs set and level. I’ll build the boxes and attach them. Tomorrow, we can line them before I go to work. You can stay busy and out of trouble while I’m gone and plant stuff.”
I ignored his words. “The open house at the station is Friday?”
“Yeah. Ten to three. You still gonna come?”
“Of course. I’d love to. Martha will be there, right?”
“Yep. Mark, the other guys.” He frowned as if a thought had occurred to him, and I was sure I knew what it was.
“It’s okay, Jesse. You don’t have to introduce me to people. I’ll wander around and introduce myself.”
“I wasn’t worried about that. I was thinking about something else. I can introduce you as my tenant, my neighbor, my friend. Any of those works.”
“So just not fuck buddy?”
He shook his head. “You’re incorrigible. If you want to send Martha to the hospital or one of the other old biddies who will show up like they do every year, that’s your business.” He winked. “Pretty sure they’ll tell you that you can do better.”
I laughed as I stood and took our plates. “More like they’ll ask how to get in on the gig. Jealous old bats.”
He pulled me down and kissed me. “Incorrigible,” he repeated.
“And you love it.”
I stayed busy putting out the “shit” I bought.
I wondered how long it would take him to notice the doormat I put on his front step.
It was plain except for the words, WE DON’T WANT ANY , in the corner with capital letters.
It made me laugh because it was so Thorne.
I knew as soon as he found it, I would hear about it.
I headed to the backyard when I heard him call my name.
“Okay, I need you to take that piece of wood—” he pointed to the long one close to me “—over to the platform I’ve got ready. I’ll finish cutting this one and come and mark where I need to cut the forty-five-degree angles.”
“Okay.”
I picked up the heavy cedar and swung around without thinking. I heard the crack of the wood hitting something and turned back, seeing Jesse stumbling and holding his head.
“Oh my God!” I yelled.
In my panic, I spun the opposite way, this time clocking him on the other side of his head. He went down like a sack of potatoes, and I dropped the wood, racing over to him. I tore off my hoodie, tucking it under his head, propping it up.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “Oh God, Jesse, are you hurt?”
He blinked, staring up at me.
I cupped his face. “Jesse, talk to me.”
“Who are you?”
I gasped in shock, and he winked.
“Stop it!”
“Seriously,” he muttered. “I had no idea you were still pissed over this morning.” He rubbed his head. “Jesus, woman, for a pixie, you pack a wallop.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I wailed.
He rubbed my arm. “I know. But seriously.”
I ran my hands over his head. “Oh my God, there’s a bump. We need to go to the hospital.”
He laughed, although he winced when he did. “Not that much of a wallop.”
“You could have a concussion. You might lie down and die. I have to take you!”
“I don’t have a concussion. I have a bump because you whacked me with a piece of timber. I’m not going to die.” His gaze kept bouncing around, and his lips twitched.
I was terrified he was about to have a seizure.
“I feel awful,” I exclaimed. “What can I do?”
“A blow job would help,” he deadpanned.
I stared down at him. “How can you think of sex right now?”
“Well, your cupcake has no wrapper.”
“What?”
He grinned. “The puppy has escaped the playground.”
I stared at him, horrified. He wasn’t making sense. He was completely delirious. He had a brain injury because I’d hit him with a piece of wood—twice.
“You’re talking gibberish. I hit you too hard.” I grabbed his arm. “I’m calling 9-1-1.”
He sighed. “Casey, once again, you are flashing me.”
I glanced down, seeing my left breast had come out of the tank I was wearing. It must have done so as I’d torn my hoodie over my head.
“When I see your breasts, sex does take over my thoughts.”
As nonchalantly as I could, I put it back into place.
“Well, they are one of my finest assets.”
“Yes, they are.”
He got up and stretched, rolling his shoulders with a sigh. “See, I’m fine. Can we get back to building your box now?”
“You don’t want to get in my box?”
He blinked. Then he started to laugh. “Later. Once the tools are put away and there is nothing for you to impale me with.”
“Then you’ll impale me?”
That did it.
He pulled me off the ground and kissed me. Then to prove he was fine, he tossed me over his shoulder and headed inside.
I was starting to like this.
Later that night, Jesse lay with his head on my lap. I rested against the headboard, stroking his hair and reading. Barney and Miller were at the end of the bed, sleeping next to each other as usual.
I glanced down, smiling. Jesse’s eyes were shut, but a smile played on his lips. He had one hand resting over his chest, and he looked almost blissful.
Earlier today, I’d discovered his kryptonite. He loved having his head rubbed.
And I enjoyed doing it. I found it relaxing and a mindless pleasure as I read quietly.
It struck me that we were the picture of domesticity. Lying in bed, reading, being quiet, and happy to do so.
“What are you thinking of?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Nothing much. You kissed me in the parking lot earlier.”
“I did.”
“What if someone had seen? You wanted this private.”
“And it is. No one saw us.”
I hummed and flipped the page in my Kindle. A long finger reached over the top, pulling the device down. “Are you worried about someone seeing us?” he asked.
“Not for me. I’ll be leaving, but you live here. I don’t want you to regret us being seen.”
“Why would I regret it?”
“Other women might think you’re not available.”
He frowned and looked displeased, but he didn’t say anything. I began to stroke his hair again, but he felt tense.
“Do you think I would have sex with you and see other women?” he asked.
I lowered the Kindle. “We never said exclusive.”
“Do you want to see other guys?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
“You don’t want to see other guys either?” I teased, wanting to lighten the air. It felt heavy, the tension thick.
“I don’t want to see other women.”
“Okay.”
“So we’re clear?”
“Neither of us wants to see anyone else right now,” I said slowly.
He huffed, and I had a feeling I was missing something.
Exactly what, I wasn’t sure.
I woke up alone, Jesse’s side of the bed cold. It was barely past seven, the sun already bright in the sky. I slid from the bed and peered out the window, hearing the sound of tools being used.
I dressed and made coffee, finding Jesse outside, working on the garden boxes. From the almost completed look, I knew he’d been up for a while. I handed him a cup of coffee, which he took with a grunt and drank, studying his work, not meeting my eyes.
“Have you been at this all night?” I asked.
“No.”
“You must have been up early,” I said lightly, unsure about his demeanor.
“About five.”
“Oh. I missed you when I woke up,” I murmured, hoping he’d smile and say something back.
“Well, you’ll get used to it. I’m gone for the next three nights.”
“Is something wrong, Jesse?” I asked.
“Nope. I just need to get this done. I have other things I planned to do that I put off to make these for you. So it’s going to be a busy day, then I head in.” He finished his coffee. “Miller can come with me so you won’t be bothered looking after him.”
“Miller is never a bother,” I responded, hurt by his words. “But apparently I am. Leave the garden bed, Thorne. I’ll add the liner in. I’m sure I can figure it out.”
He snorted, the sound derisive. “Knowing you, you’ll staple your hand to the wood or something, and I’ll end up coming home to take you to the hospital. I’ll finish it—it’ll be quicker and less of a pain in my ass.”
I blinked at the sudden rush of tears in my eyes.
“If you have other things I’ve kept you from, I apologize. I won’t take up any more of your valuable time.” I turned on my heel and went inside my door, shutting it behind me. I resisted slamming it, but barely.
He didn’t follow.
Angry and hurt, I wiped away the wet around my eyes. I was shocked how much his words stung.
I got busy and ready for the day, refusing to let him know how upset I was.
He was obviously in a bad mood and needed a little time to cool off.
While I was washing the dishes, I saw him carry his tools into the garage and bring out a couple of totes I had asked him about when we’d parked the car in the garage.
I waited as he carried them over, wondering if he’d knock and come in so we could clear the air, but I heard the thump of them being put on the deck, and there was no knock.
A moment later, I heard the telltale sound of his back door shutting.