Chapter 14
Fourteen
Colter
Swayze:
Might you be available for manual labor at some point in the next few days? The Desk is here.
Colter:
The Desk, huh? It’s a capital letter piece of furniture?
Swayze:
If I answer that honestly does it lower the chances that you’ll help me get it into the loft?
Colter:
Nope. Just determining whether I should have my chiropractor on speed dial for after.
Swayze:
Are you implying you’re old?
Colter:
Trust me, there is nothing on earth that makes you feel older than having a kid. When she was six, Oakleigh asked if we had TV when I was her age.
Swayze:
:laughing emoji: Harsh.
Colter:
You have no idea.
Swayze:
No chiropractor required.
Colter:
Then I’ll be by when I get off shift at noon.
Swayze:
I’ll be here. See you then.
I’d found myself grinning way too freaking much about that ‘See you then’ during the last few hours of my rotation.
The rest of my crew was starting to take notice, and that meant razzing.
Not like I wasn’t a pro at fielding that kind of shit-stirring.
Coming from a family with seven siblings meant I’d been dishing and taking for years before I walked through the door of a firehouse.
But my love life, or lack thereof, had been dead enough that any potential action on that front was likely to be front page news of the station gossip circuit.
“You got something funny you want to share with the class, Gibson?” Harvey asked from where he was giving the engine a good polish.
I immediately pocketed my phone and returned to the incident report I was finishing up.
“Just a new favorite Florida man story my brother sent me. Get this, some guy got arrested for trying to baptize an alligator in a Waffle House with a pitcher of sweet tea.” That one had made the rounds of the sibling group chat earlier, so it was easy to pull out in a pinch.
Cho looked up from the med kits she was checking. “I have so many questions…”
With a helpless shrug, I lifted my hands. “I have no answers. Only got the headline. But it’s a doozy.”
That resulted in a conversation of our other favorite lunatic stories—from Florida and beyond—which carried us to shift change without anyone being the wiser that I had a bit of a crush on my rescuee turned neighbor.
I hadn’t planned for it. I’d just figured I’d see her next door from time to time, and we’d stay friendly, as you do in a small town.
Then she’d gone gooey over my big lump of a dog, and my kid had invited her to dinner, where she’d been charming and interesting and apparently not put off by my 11-year-old shadow.
I’d spent my entire time as a parent focused on my kid, and what little dating I’d done had been kept very separate.
I’d never gotten to the point of serious enough I’d introduced a woman to my daughter.
No reason to risk Oakleigh getting attached to someone who might not stay in our lives.
But Swayze was in our lives already, if only peripherally.
Oakleigh already thought she was extremely cool.
Not that I was taking that as some kind of blessing or sign from the universe that I should absolutely follow through on this unexpected attraction.
But I had to admit I was considering it.
And that was very new for me.
When I slid out of my truck at home, the sound of a voice carried on the wind.
Sounded like Swayze was out back. I let myself into the house and ditched my gear bag before moving toward the back door off the kitchen.
I spotted her through the kitchen window, pacing on the back deck, a phone pressed to her ear, one arm wrapped around her middle against the cold.
I could wait a few minutes while she finished her phone call.
But as I opened the fridge to pull out the fixings for a sandwich, her tone caught me.
It was a weird combination of a little too bright and still somehow muted.
I stilled, deliberately straining my ears to see if I could hear her conversation.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It is what it is. But I promise, we’ll talk about Christmas later. I need to get back to work.”
Who was she talking to? Family? What hadn’t she told them about? The fire? Something else? Questions piled one on top of the other, but I only filed them away. We weren’t at the point where I thought I could ask, and I didn’t want her to think I’d been eavesdropping.
I finished slapping together a turkey and Swiss sandwich and walked out onto the back porch.
Swayze turned at the sound of my footsteps and flashed a bright smile that seemed entirely genuine. “Hey. I heard you get home.”
Maybe I imagined the weird tone. Maybe she had a strained relationship with some members of her family. I had no idea. But I found I wanted to know more, and that, too, was new.
I swallowed the bite of sandwich I’d taken. “Only just. You ready to move this thing?”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “You can certainly finish your sandwich first. You’ll need your strength.”
“Thought you said no chiropractors required.”
The twitch turned into a laugh. “Heavy and back-breaking are two different things.”
I polished off the sandwich in a half-dozen bites. “Show me what we’re working with here.”
She led me back to her apartment, where an enormous flat-pack box was set just inside the front door. It was easily as long as I was tall, with stick figures and warnings to team lift on all sides.
I went brows up. “Oh. Do I need to call one of my brothers to help with this?”
Swayze flexed one arm. “I’m stronger than I look. I just need another set of hands.”
I privately thought I’d end up carrying the brunt of the weight of this thing, being the one most likely to be at the bottom going up the stairs. But hell, I lifted hoses for a living that were technically probably heavier than this thing.
“Okay, then. Show me what you’ve got.”
It took three attempts to get all the way to the top, and there were a few near misses as we wrangled the box around the awkward corner at the top of the stairs and into the loft space. But we got it up there. No chiropractor required, as she’d promised.
Swayze straightened, shoving the hair back from her face. “Thanks for that. I can put it together myself, but there was no way I was getting all of that up here by myself. I’m really grateful I didn’t have to open it downstairs and carry it up piece by piece.”
“I am a full-service desk mover. I’ll help you put it together.”
She opened her mouth. “I can—”
“I have no doubt that you can, but I’ve put together enough stuff over the years to know that having a second set of hands speeds the process considerably. You’ve got mine.” I paused as something I couldn’t read flashed across her features. “Unless you’d rather I go. I can do that, too.”
A little color bloomed in her cheeks. “No. I’m not trying to run you off. I’d appreciate the help if you really don’t mind.”
“Then let’s get started.”
We spread everything out across the floor—a veritable sea of wooden panels, screws, and mysterious hardware.
The instruction manual looked like it had been translated from Swedish into hieroglyphs by someone who’d never actually seen furniture before.
At least the list of needed tools was clear enough.
“Hold that thought. This’ll go quicker with something more than an Allen wrench.” I retrieved my toolbox from next door and brought it up to the loft.
Swayze crouched beside me, shoulder bumping mine as she reached for the diagram. “Okay, so if I’m reading this right, we start with the base frame.”
“Or we could ignore the instructions entirely and see what happens.”
Her eyes cut to mine, one brow arched. “You’re one of those people.”
“What people?”
“The kind who thinks instructions are merely suggestions.”
I grinned. “They are suggestions. Strongly worded ones.”
“And how often does that work out for you?”
“About fifty percent of the time.”
She laughed, the sound warmer than before, more genuine. “Those are terrible odds.”
“I like to live dangerously.”
“You rescue people from burning buildings for a living. I think your threshold for danger is slightly skewed.”
“Fair point.” I grabbed two of the side panels and lined them up. “Hand me that bag of screws?”
Her fingers brushed mine as she passed it over, and the contact shot through me like a spark. She must have felt it too, because her gaze lingered a beat longer than necessary before she looked away.
We fell into an easy rhythm after that. She’d hold pieces steady while I drove screws home. I’d brace the frame while she tightened bolts. Every so often our hands would meet—steadying the same panel, reaching for the same tool—and each time that current ran between us.
“So what does one need a desk this size for, anyway?” I asked as we flipped the base structure over.
“I’m a graphic designer. I need space for monitors, a tablet, sketches, tea, snacks, more tea.”
“Sounds like you run on caffeine.”
“It’s basically a food group at this point.” She twisted to reach a fallen screw, and I caught myself watching the curve of her back, wanting to trace a finger down the graceful arch of it. “What about you? What do firefighters run on?”
“Adrenaline and questionable firehouse cooking.”
“Questionable how?”
“Harvey makes a chili that could strip paint.”
She laughed again, and I decided I liked causing that sound.
We worked our way through the drawers, the various shelves, and compartments. At some point she’d pulled her hair back into a messy knot, revealing the line of her neck. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.
“Last piece.” She pointed to a large panel. “The desktop itself.”
We maneuvered it into position, which required me to reach across her to line up the brackets. She held the far edge steady, and suddenly we were close—close enough that I could smell whatever shampoo she used, something light and citrusy.
“Got it?” Her voice came out softer than before.
“Yeah. Just need to...” I leaned in further to tighten the final bolt, bringing us even closer together.
She turned her head at exactly the same moment I did, and suddenly her mouth was right there—mere inches from mine, close enough that the warmth of her breath ghosted across my lips.
Those hazel eyes had gone dark and heavy-lidded with something that matched what was pounding through my veins like a drumbeat.
Her breath caught, a soft hitch I felt more than heard in the narrow space between us, and the sound of it sent heat pooling low in my gut.
Neither of us moved away.
The smart thing would’ve been to put distance between us immediately, to break whatever spell had settled over us in this cramped corner of her workspace.
To make some joke about tight spaces or the hazards of fumbling with furniture assembly.
Something to cut through the tension that had stretched taut as a wire between us.
But I didn’t feel particularly smart right now, not with her this close, not with the way she was looking at me through those dark lashes like maybe she was thinking the same reckless thoughts that were racing through my head.
Not with the citrus scent of her shampoo filling my lungs and the soft bow of her lips drawing my gaze like a magnet.
Why the hell not? What would one little taste hurt?
I started to close the distance between us when a familiar bark exploded through the downstairs, followed by Oakleigh’s voice.
“Dad? Are you here?”
I pulled back just a bit, wincing in frustration and parental mortification. “She shouldn’t be bursting into your place without permission. We’ll deal with it. I’ll talk to her.”
Swayze laughed softly, the sound doing absolutely nothing to cool the heat that had built between us. “It’s fine.”
With a swallow, I adjusted my voice to carry downstairs. “Up here, Twig.”
The thunder of footsteps announced Oakleigh’s arrival before she appeared, Ludo bounding up behind her. They both made an immediate beeline for Swayze, who’d shifted to scruff the dog’s ears, sending him into paroxysms of ecstasy.
“We’re just finishing up.” I grabbed the last bolt and tightened it down.
Lisa appeared at the top of the stairs. “Since when do you just bust up in someone’s house, kiddo?”
Oakleigh didn’t even glance back. “It’s fine, Mom. Swayze’s a friend.”
“A friend you haven’t asked permission from before barging in.” But Lisa’s attention had already shifted to Swayze, and I recognized that assessing look. The one that said she was filing away every detail for later interrogation.
I cleared my throat. “Swayze, this is Lisa. Oakleigh’s mom.”
Lisa stepped forward, extending a hand. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard you’ve had quite the introduction to Gibson Hollow.”
Swayze rose, shaking her hand. “That’s one way to put it. Though everyone’s been incredibly kind.”
“That’s what we do here.” Lisa’s smile was genuine, but her eyes kept darting between us. Yeah, she’d definitely noticed something.
Swayze gestured to the now-assembled desk. “Thanks again for your help this afternoon. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” The words came out rougher than I intended, and I caught the flicker of awareness in her eyes before she looked away.
“Come on, Twig. Let’s get out of Swayze’s hair.” I ruffled my daughter’s head as she reluctantly said goodbye, and we herded everyone back downstairs and across to our side of the duplex.
Lisa started hauling bags inside while Oakleigh disappeared into her room with Ludo trailing behind. I grabbed the heaviest duffel from the truck bed.
“Really, thanks for this.” Lisa hefted another bag. “The fleas were getting to be a serious problem, so having the house fumigated is definitely the best move.”
“Sure, absolutely.” I carried the bag into the guest room, already mentally rearranging my schedule for the next few days. Having them here wouldn’t be a hardship—we’d done this dance before.
Lisa appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, that knowing expression firmly in place. “Sorry for the interruption back there.”
I gave her a bland stare. “What interruption?”
“Don’t even try it.” She stepped closer, voice dropping. “I know you. You haven’t looked at anybody the way I just saw you look at her in maybe ever.”
Heat crept up the back of my neck. “Lee—”
“So consider me on board.” She poked me in the chest. “It’s about damn time you found someone who makes you look like that.”
No point in denying it. Lisa was family. She knew me in ways no one else did. So I hooked my arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I appreciate that.”
“Of course.”
“Now let’s talk about dinner.”
Her long, unimpressed stare told me she knew I was changing the subject, and she’d grant me a reprieve… for now.
Hopefully, by the time she got back to the interrogation about whatever this thing was with Swayze, I’d have actual answers.