Chapter 14 #2
She looked into his face, sooty and streaked with sweat, and found there was nothing else in the world she’d rather be looking at. “I am not going to throw up.” She had no idea if she was trying to convince him or herself.
“Are the spots still dancing?” He shifted his face even closer as if he could see them himself.
“No.”
He relaxed slightly but remained close enough that she could have counted the gold flecks swimming in his whiskey-colored eyes, or each individual thick eyelash.
She could see the inch-long scar above his eyebrow, which she knew was courtesy of taking a flying leap out of his father’s hands and into their TV set.
He had other scars too, and each of them had broken her heart.
Just, as she suspected, she’d once broken his.
She wanted to make that up to him, wanted him to smile at her, feel the warmth and affection he’d once had for her. God, she needed that from him. “It’s…not as bad in here as I thought.”
“Well, the bathroom’s gone. That’s where the fire started.
But this room…” He looked around. “It’s actually salvageable.
The back is trashed though, needs new flooring, paint, and there’s a lot of water damage—” He looked at her face and broke off.
“And you don’t need to hear this right now, I’m sorry. Why are you here, Red?”
“I told you, I was just in the neighborhood—”
“Truth.”
Because I’m lost. Floundering. My foundation’s slipped.
He didn’t rush to fill in her silence, but waited her out. Silence had never bothered him the way it had her.
“I wanted to tell you another secret,” she said.
“Do I have to tell you one first?” he asked cautiously.
Such a guy. “No, this is a freebie. I told you I came back to Ocean Beach for my mom. Remember?”
“Yes.”
“And I really thought that was it, but now I don’t think that’s the whole truth.” She looked around. The soot and water were pervasive and depressing. “I came for me too. I needed to connect. Emotionally.”
He stared at her. “Have you been talking to Kenny?”
“What?”
“Never mind. Go on.”
“That’s all I’ve got.” She shrugged. “Only there’s a problem. When it comes to actually executing the emotional connections I think I want, I keep screwing up. I’m pretty sure I’m doing it on purpose.”
“Maybe you’re not ready.”
“Maybe.” She shot him a smile. “I guess I’d kind of hoped you’d say that I haven’t screwed anything up at all, especially between us.”
“You haven’t. But you have to see that yourself.”
“So we’re really okay?” She looked at him, so big and tough and brutally honest, and had to ask. “We’re really going to be friends again?”
He nodded, and that more than anything made her feel better.
He was so strong, so sure of himself. She wanted to ask him how he’d gotten to this point.
She wanted to know the path he’d taken, and what he’d done to become so comfortable with who he was, but before she could ask any of that, a small bundle of fur bounded toward them.
“Woof.”
The bark belonged to the sweetest chocolate lab puppy Summer had ever seen. It launched itself at Joe, who caught it in midair.
“I told you to stay,” Joe said sternly, but sighed when the puppy licked his chin. “We’re going to have to work on that,” he muttered.
“She’s yours?” Summer opened her arms and the puppy jumped into them.
“A misbehaving little tyrant is what she is. She’s already eaten two files in the truck and chewed through a bag of evidence. Not to mention she has no manners and can’t sit or stay to save her life.”
“You sound like a dad.”
“Bite your tongue.”
“Oh, Joe. Not all dads are bad.”
He looked away. “I know that.”
She wanted to hug him. But he’d no more welcome her sympathy now than he ever had.
She stroked the puppy. “She can’t be more than twelve weeks old.
Telling her to sit or stay means nothing to her.
And she’s probably teething—Ouch!” She pulled her hand free—now sporting teeth marks—and laughed at the puppy’s startled expression.
“I have matching marks all over me,” Joe said, but reached out to pet the dog’s head.
Summer nuzzled the soft fur. “So what’s an adorable thing like you doing with such a grump?”
“She’s not a grump,” Joe said.
Summer laughed. “And do you really think you’re so adorable?”
He looked down at his coveralls. “Not at the moment.”
But sitting next to her on the dirty floor, surrounded by chaos and soot and grime, his hair scruffy and untamed, his mouth curved in a slight grin, he was. Absolutely adorable. Reaching out, she ran her finger over his dimple. She wanted to run her finger over more of him. All of him.
As if he could read her thoughts, he got to his feet. Kept his distance. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah.” She stood, feeling awkward. Unwanted. “I know I’m keeping you from your work.”
“And my sleep too, but since when has that bothered you?”
Her heart hitched. “I’m keeping you from sleep?”
“I thought that was your new mission in life.”
“Oh, it is.” She backed up a step and forced a smile. “Along with driving you wild.”
“Baby, that’s a given.” He put his hands on his hips. “You done making light of this?”
She handed the puppy to him. “Probably not.”
“Because it’s sure as hell easier than talking to me, right?”
“Is that what you think? That I don’t want to talk to you?”
“You tell me what I’m supposed to think.
You come into town after years of silence, wanting to pick things up right where they were left.
With benefits. Well, things change, Red.
People change, damn it. I’m not that same idolizing, stupid, pathetic kid who would have rolled over like this puppy if you so much as smiled at me. ”
She stared at him, as disconcerted by his self-derisive tone as by the words. “I never knew that’s how you saw yourself. I never saw you that way.”
“You never saw me at all.”
She searched his fathomless gaze, her heart melting when the puppy in his arms stretched to lick his jaw and he leaned into it, nuzzling the puppy’s face beneath his neck.
Summer wanted to be right there. She wanted to nuzzle that spot. Jealous of a puppy.
“You said being friends works for you,” he said.
“But you still won’t open up to me about anything that matters—” He froze a moment, then scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Jesus. I can’t believe I just said that.
” Turning from her, he stared off into space.
His broad shoulders were filthy and looked like he carried the weight of the world on them.
She put her hands there, gently squeezed, loving the feel of the hard strength of him.
“Would you like to know why I usually get dumped by women?” he asked.
“Um, they’re farsighted?”
A low, harsh laugh escaped him. “Because I don’t open up. I don’t share myself.”
The implications of that, mixed with what he wanted from her, sank in. “Oh.”
“Yeah, how’s that for irony? I’m standing here hounding you for the very thing I’ve never given. I’m sorry for that.” He shook his head and still didn’t look at her. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Joe—”
“And like I said, non-fire personnel aren’t allowed in here. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go.”
Right.
She had to go.
Story of her life. Her own fault, she’d written it herself.