Chapter Eight
Jack stepped back from the panel, pleased with his work.
He’d already installed the new one and had most of the breakers hardwired in.
But today had been about pulling a lot of the knob and tube that needed to go, tidying the lines that would run to various parts of the house, and creating the schematic that would tell the new owner exactly which breaker controlled what.
A painfully tedious job, but so damn satisfying, he couldn’t bring himself to mind.
He rolled his neck and shoulders a few times, working out the knots that settled when he stayed in one position too long.
Then he pressed his palms to one of the floor joists overhead and stretched.
As he did, his eye caught a blanket of white covering the small window at the far end of the basement. “Huh.”
Must be snowing harder than he realized. Which he’d honestly take over the sleety slushy mess they often got as winter slogged its way toward spring. Even if he didn’t love driving in it.
He gathered his tools and checked his watch. Just after four. He’d check in with Pablo and see what rooms upstairs were ready to have light fixtures installed. That should keep him busy until quitting time.
Jack climbed the stairs, pausing halfway.
The house was eerily quiet. Odd. Maybe some of the crew knocked off early.
Hopefully it was that and not some major snag that ground work to a halt.
Those were the worst. He opened the basement door to that same eerie quiet, paired with the borderline creepy dimness that came with gray skies and no lights on. Where was everyone?
A sound came from the study, but it wasn’t banging or sawing or drilling. Nor was it the sound of work boots striding around, cleaning up a day’s work. It was singing, or at least it was trying to be. Someone was butchering Taylor Swift’s latest—not loudly, but with feeling.
Jack approached with caution, not out of fear for his safety, but because he had a sneaking suspicion whose voice it was.
Ellie wasn’t the only female member of the crew, but she was the most obvious.
Not to mention the one most likely to be working solo.
And, if he was being honest, the one most likely to indulge in a singalong no matter who might be around to suffer through it.
The door was cracked, so he pushed it open slowly. It was Ellie, all right. Clutching a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. And what she lacked in vocal talent, she more than made up for with dance moves. He so never wanted to be that guy, but all he could think was damn.
Ellie rolled her hips one way, then the other. She arched her neck and bumped her chest back and forth. Not overtly sexual, but with the rhythm and confidence that announced she was the sort of woman who could do all manner of things with her body. He hated himself for going there, but again. Damn.
She spun his way and promptly jumped back, screamed, and dropped her paintbrush. Fortunately, the thumb she had hooked through the palette kept it from falling. Or flying.
“Sorry,” he said before realizing she likely couldn’t hear a word he said.
She pulled out the earbuds. “What are you still doing here?” Ellie asked, though it sounded more like an accusation than a question.
“Working.” Jack matched Ellie’s accusatory tone with an exasperated one of his own. “It’s not even five.”
“But a blizzard is coming,”
Snow had been in the forecast, but no more than four to six inches. As long as roads were being plowed, that was barely enough to bat an eye at. Certainly not enough to warrant panic. Or an admonishing mother tone. “I know. Notice I stopped before dark.”
She flung out an arm, pointing at the window. “The forecast changed. It’s a fucking blizzard.”
Snow fell fast and heavy, and the flakes swirled with the vigor of a nor’easter. That didn’t necessarily mean major accumulation, though, much less a blizzard. “How much are they predicting?”
“Two inches an hour overnight with up to three feet total by this time tomorrow.”
“Shit.”
“No shit, shit. Do you not pay attention to, oh I don’t know, the news, the emergency alert system, or what’s literally happening outside your window?”
“I was in the basement.” It sounded weak even to him. That tiny rectangle covered in white notwithstanding.
Ellie rolled her eyes, the mother hen attitude giving way to that mirth he’d tried to explain to Logan. “Well, you’re stuck now.”
“I’m not stuck.” He had four-wheel drive and a lifetime of experience driving in Vermont winters.
“Pretty sure you are.”
Why did she seem so fucking amused? If he was stuck, that meant they were stuck together. “I’m going to go out and see how bad it is.”
“Suit yourself.”
He put on his coat and went to the back door.
He opened it to a gust of wind and a slap of snow to the face.
After blinking away what had blown into his eyes, he surveyed the situation.
The steps from the small back porch to the parking area were a barely defined mound.
He could see the shape of his truck, but the drifts had already risen to the wheel wells. “Shit.”
Ellie appeared behind him, her face poking around his shoulder. “Let me guess. You’re stuck.”
“I can’t be stuck.” He didn’t have clothes or food. Dot and Sophia were waiting for him to get home.
“I think you’re confusing ‘can’t’ with ‘really don’t want to.’ It’s a common mistake.” Despite the sarcasm of her words, her voice kept that infuriatingly chipper tone.
“Could you stop being so fucking clever about everything for a second? I need to think.” As in, figure out his options and execute the best one before the situation got any worse.
Ellie didn’t leave. She stood there, arms folded, like she was waiting for him to perform. Since going outside would accomplish little more than making him cold and wet, he stalked to the front of the house and pulled out his phone.
He’d missed a flurry of texts on the family group chat—questions about who’d be in charge of plowing and making sure everyone had groceries and adequate emergency supplies.
If the Barrows were discussing emergency supplies, the storm was no joke.
Fortunately, things weren’t so dire yet that anyone was worried about his lack of response.
That would have made him feel like an ass on top of feeling like an idiot.
He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing there’d be both ribbing and concern, before typing a reply.
I’m still at the job site. Lost track of time working in the basement and missed the blizzard warning.
Maddie replied immediately with Dude and Logan chimed in with I think the roads are too bad for a rescue mission.
He assured everyone he could survive for a day or two on the bottled water and snacks he kept in his truck.
He had heat and shelter and, though he’d just as soon do without, company.
Logan offered to pick up Dot and Sophia when she did a first plow of the family properties before it got dark.
All in all, it was nowhere near the end of the world. So why did it feel like it was?
“So?” Ellie asked when Jack finally put his phone away, fully prepared to gloat.
“So, it looks like I’m stuck.”
She smirked. “You could be a good sport and say it looks like I was right.”
He scowled. “Why would I give you the satisfaction?”
“Goodness of your heart?” She batted her eyelashes in a way that would make Rhett proud. “Or perhaps because I’m the one who lives here, and you’ve basically invited yourself over for the night.”
She’d meant to make a joke, but Jack’s scowl turned into this stern, stoic expression that was oddly even more ominous. “The house is big. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way.”
“That’s not what I—”
He lifted a hand, essentially cutting her off. “Look, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. I’m going to go out to my truck for the supplies I have with me, then I’ll go upstairs and stay out of your hair.”
Ellie opened her mouth to tell him to take a freaking chill pill already, or that she was a nice person who’d happily share her supplies, but he didn’t give her the chance.
He stormed off, only to return a minute later with his coat.
He tugged a wool hat over his head and strode out into the snow, grabbing the shovel Pablo had put by the door and digging a path in the direction of his truck.
She hovered for a moment, debating whether to offer assistance or watch him slog along by himself. Slog was putting it mildly. She could tell from the crisp lines the shovel made with each scoop that it was the sort of wet, heavy snow that made for fantastic snowmen and backbreaking work.
In the end, she settled on neither. Since there was only one shovel, there was little she could do to help. And something told her half an hour of shoveling snow and freezing his ass off would do little to improve Jack’s demeanor. Even if his shoulders and ass looked great doing it.
Ellie retreated to the study, hoping to get her mojo back.
She left the earbuds in her pocket, wanting to hear if Jack called her.
Oh, and not wanting him to scare the living bejesus out of her again.
She cleaned her now dusty paintbrush and stared at the mural, willing herself to remember what she’d been doing before being so rudely interrupted.
She’d meant to lighten the mood, not piss Jack off. But of course, a guy like Jack wouldn’t appreciate that. And now she was stuck with him, and instead of his usual grumpy state, she had to contend with him being actively mad at her.
Great.
Knowing she needed a distraction and reset if she had any chance of regaining her focus, she settled cross-legged on the drop cloth on the floor.
She called her mom to check in but got voicemail.
Probably she was at dinner already, and Donna had strong feelings about phones at the dinner table.
It still counted as a dose of daughterly duty, though, so she let herself off the hook and texted Rhett to commiserate.
Being the absolute champ of a best friend that she was, Rhett responded immediately. I’m sorry. Let me get this straight. You’re trapped in that big old house, in a blizzard, with the guy you have the hots for?
Ellie blew out a breath. Basically. But he’s even grumpier than usual.
I feel like I should remind you he’s never been grumpy with me.
That warranted a groan. Why? Why do you feel like you should remind me of that?
Because I think Jack thinks you’re pretty.
It wasn’t the first time Rhett had said as much.
Hell, Rhett insinuated a hell of a lot more than that on a regular basis.
And while Ellie didn’t mind the teasing, in this instance, it only served to amplify the fact that being around Jack was like trying to get up close and personal with a cactus.
Well, unless you can convince him of that fact, that’s a whole lot of no help.
That got her a shrug emoji followed by Ask him if he needs me to do anything.
She wanted to be annoyed on principle, but it was a valid thing to offer, considering Rhett was literally next door. Oh, and his dogs were probably there. Ugh. Okay. Let me give him a hot minute to get back inside and I’ll go look for him.
Rhett didn’t respond, so Ellie hefted herself off the floor and picked up her paintbrush. Focus. She just needed to focus. On her work and not the hot guy grumbling about his poor choices.
It worked, sort of. She managed to add a more structured jaw and some five o’clock shadow to one of the figures lounging with a parasol. And maybe it was Jack’s face front and center in her mind, but it wasn’t like she turned the person in the painting into a ginger.
The thought made her giggle, which, in turn made her sigh.
Not a sigh of relief, exactly, but the kind that came with remembering who she was and what she was about.
There was literally zero reason to let Jack get under her skin.
If he chilled the fuck out enough to be friendly—or flirt—that would be great.
If not, she could be unflappably nice. And if that got under his skin, well, that was his problem.