Chapter 9 Lauren
Lauren
Lauren parked her trusty old Honda Civic beside the house.
The headlights cast a long, bright light over the tree in the backyard hanging ominously over the house, and she let her forehead rest against the steering wheel.
That was one thing Zach wasn’t going to be able to do, and it was going to wipe out her savings to either have it removed or repair the damage when it fell through the roof.
The entire day had been a whirlwind. After spending the last twelve hours training a new employee and trying to stay ahead of the next disaster, she wanted nothing more than to crawl under the soft covers of her bed and sleep for the rest of the week.
She raised her head and lifted her chin. At least she had spaghetti waiting. The muffin she’d swallowed at noon was long gone, and her stomach audibly protested.
Twenty minutes. That’s how long it would take to eat a meal at the same table with Zach before they could go their separate ways, and she could breathe again. She could do anything for twenty minutes.
Grabbing her purse and the plastic bags from the front seat, she trudged to the porch.
The front door was unlocked, and she set the bags on the couch.
She was halfway through pulling the scrunchie out of her hair when the smell hit her.
Not the spicy scent of tomato sauce and meat, but something burning.
She took four lumbering strides toward the kitchen where Zach fanned a smoking pot on the stovetop with a dish towel.
“What happened?” she asked as she pulled two potholders out of a drawer and reached for the handles of the billowing pot.
“What does it look like? I burned it!” Zach shouted right beside her.
She pulled the pot away from the hot burner and snatched the dish towel from Zach, draping it over the smoke.
Resting her hands on her hips, she let out a quick burst of air and turned to Zach. “Easy peasy. Crisis averted.”
His brows scrunched together as he glared at her. “I almost burned the house down, and you think that was nothing?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” She pushed a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “You made some puffs of smoke in a pot. Calm down.”
He propped his big hand on the edge of the counter and kept staring at her with a look that had probably intimidated plenty of grown men, but after the day she’d had, it was tough to muster any care for something like a ruined pot.
In fact, it was exactly what she should have expected. Charred dinner was the icing on her mud pie of a day.
A chuckle crept up her throat, and she swallowed it, almost choking on the sound.
“What are you doing?” Zach asked, low and slow as if studying her every move.
She couldn’t answer. The only thing that came out when she opened her mouth was a riotous cackle. She bent at the waist, heaving as the laughter poured out of her.
It was hilarious! Zach Wilson defeated by limp noodles.
“It’s not funny! Stop laughing.”
There wasn’t a bit of humor in his tone, but the howling hit a new roar when she peeked under the dish rag and saw the wavy black remains of their dinner.
“This isn’t funny at all. You know, this is all your fault.”
“My fault?” She managed to wheeze through her guffawing, sending her into a coughing fit that was the definition of unattractive.
“You’re trying to make me do things I don’t know how to do. This isn’t me!”
She covered her mouth with a hand and cleared her throat. His face was turning a dangerous shade of maroon. “I’m sorry. I—”
With a grunt, he stormed right past her, gripping his hands into fists at his sides.
“Wait!”
Good grief, he was quick. His casual stride had taken him all the way to the front door in two seconds while she was still sputtering like a goat and weaving her way around the kitchen table.
He held up a hand and kept walking. “I’m done with this. I’m not your servant, Lauren.”
“Please, just wait.”
Her hand clamped around his wrist in the same moment he rounded on her. The error hit her before he even spoke a word. Touch. She’d promised not to touch him.
He jerked his hand out of her grasp and leveled her with a searing gaze. “I said—”
“I know. I’m sorry. I forgot. I was just trying to get you to stop and listen to my apology. Please give me a minute to explain.”
He shook his head but didn’t resume his retreat, and she took that as her cue to continue.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “I asked you to do something that I shouldn’t have. I could have easily cooked supper for us when I got home. I was out of line to bully you into doing something you didn’t want to do.”
The lines of his stern brow didn’t soften, but he didn’t stop her. He just stood there, quiet and waiting.
“I don’t think you can do everything. It wasn’t right of me to assume you could do all of these things, especially cooking. From now on, I’ll ask if you know how to do things. If you don’t, you can let me know if you’re willing to figure it out or if I should hire someone else.”
He was quiet for a moment as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You can’t do everything either.”
Lauren modeled his stance. She’d admitted she was wrong. He didn’t have to rub it in. “What do you mean? I know I can’t.”
“But you’re trying to do everything,” Zach said as his gaze traveled from her face to her toes and back up. The way he looked at her made her want to step behind a curtain.
There wasn’t any malice in his voice when he spoke. “You look tired.”
Oh. That was just great. Why did he have to notice things she wanted to keep hidden? “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Zach nodded slowly. “Was it because of the monster next door?”
“Not exactly.”
It wasn’t a lie. How could she explain what she didn’t understand?
It wasn’t his fault she was still hung up on the trauma. Well, not his fault anymore. He’d given her his apology in actions and words. It was tough to stay mad about it when he’d shown remorse.
Living with the memories and the residual fear was tough on a good day. After juggling her way through this disaster of a day, she didn’t have the fortitude to withstand the emotions that liked to settle on her shoulders.
“Are you sure? Your eyes are red.”
“Actually…Actually, I…” She sniffed and blinked through the pricking in her eyes. Now was not the time to lose her composure.
“What’s happening?” Zach asked, his arms twitching like he might have to make a run for it at a moment’s notice.
She was not fine, but she wasn’t about to admit defeat just yet. She could still hold back the tears. She could prevent them from coming.
Except, they spilled out of her eyes anyway. They slid down her cheeks without her consent, leaving searing evidence in their wake.
“I just…I just wish I had a…”
Zach stepped closer, waving his hands around. “A what? What do you need? Tell me what it is so I can make it stop. I don’t know what to do.”
Great. She’d put him in yet another unfamiliar situation. There was no way she could have made his transition out of prison any worse.
She sniffed and wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “I just wish I had a donut or something good. This day was crappy, and I’d love one thing I couldn’t mess up.”
Zach’s brows rose. “And you can’t mess up a donut?”
“Of course not. Donuts are perfect just by existing.” A stray laugh escaped from deep in her chest as she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I need an emotional support donut.”
“You’re saying Dawson Keller isn’t the only one who has a thing for donuts?”
The laughter began anew, but it veered terribly close to producing tears again. “I guess so.”
Zach jerked his head toward the back of the house. “Let me show you what I did today.”
He was clearly trying to distract her, but she would allow it. He’d been working too. Judging by the sweat stains on his shirt and the stiffness of his short hair that stuck out in all directions, it hadn’t been an easy day for him either.
She followed him through the house, setting her tear-streaked face to rights as they went. How humiliating. The last time she’d cried in front of Zach was during the trial. It had taken all of one day in their new dynamic to show him just how little she could handle.
He stopped in front of the laundry room and propped his shoulder on the door frame. Was that a grin on his face?
Of course it was a grin. A third of the new subflooring was installed, and it looked as perfect and sturdy as if a professional had done it. The joists were squared and solid in the exposed part, but it was a good start.
“Zach, this looks great. You said you didn’t know how to do this.”
He glanced at his handiwork and shrugged one shoulder. “The videos I watched were helpful.”
“And you didn’t think to watch a video about how to make spaghetti?” she asked.
His head tilted marginally lower as he fixed her with a hard glare.
“Too soon? Okay. Oh, I bought you a razor. I don’t know anything about men’s razors, so I just picked one.”
Zach’s expression softened, but he didn’t take his gaze off her. “You didn’t have to do that. Actually, I need to borrow your car because I need to pick up some other things.”
“I think we established you don’t have a license. Also, most things in town are closed now.”
“Relax, angel. I still know how to drive. I’ll obey all the rules of the road and bring your minivan back in one piece.”
“The minivan was a rental. I drive a Civic.”
Zach straightened, studying her again as if she were a puzzle. “What was wrong with your car yesterday?”
“The check engine light was on. I had a friend look at it yesterday, so I rented a car. I just got lucky with a super cool minivan. Plus, if you were going to abduct me again, I wanted there to be a paper trail.”
Zach grinned, a seemingly insignificant expression that did all but light a fire in her chest. “Smart girl.”