Chapter 6 Nora #2
“Is that okay?” Rae asked hesitantly, while maneuvering down Main Street.
I nodded, but my voice came out too high when I replied, “Of course, yeah…I’m glad he’s already on top of the gutting portion so we can visualize things.”
“Yeah, and the fact that he hasn’t left yet is a huge bonus. Hopefully, they’ll be here until spring, right?”
I swallowed gruffly. “Right.”
Once Rae pulled up in front of my house, I made quick work to get out because I needed to hide whatever expression had leaked onto my face.
Without a doubt, if she picked up on a scowl or furrowed brow, she would then come in to interrogate me.
The truth was, I didn’t want to talk about my parents leaving or how badly I didn’t want them to go.
I’d miss them, but it was more than that.
They were my safety net and had always been there to catch me when I inevitably fell.
So if they left…what would that mean? What if my design company tanked, and I lost my house? What if I became homeless?
As desperate as I was for independence, it wasn’t realistic that in a dire situation, I wouldn’t call them for help.
My thoughts spun in vicious tangles, swooping into my stomach with dread.
Which was why I had been so distracted when I pushed through my front door.
My lights were on, something I failed to notice from outside. My fire was roaring, music was playing, and banging was coming from inside my kitchen.
“What in the—” I set my things down, and stalked toward the sink, positive I was about to find my father fixing something. But it was worse. Much worse.
Tucked under my sink, with a large tool in his fist as he hammered at a pipe, was my grumpy next-door neighbor.
“Colson? What are you doing, why are you here?” Narrowing my focus and stepping closer, I asked, “And how are you here?”
He slid out and stood.
He wore a plain white T-shirt, threadbare jeans molding to his thighs perfectly, and covering his blond messy hair was a backward facing baseball cap.
Dear, sweet lord almighty. The sight of him in my kitchen, wearing his hat backward, his face smudged with grease, and his abs visible through his shirt was too much.
I was still furious with him for what he said, but that didn’t change that I was attracted to him.
Which wasn’t fair if you asked me. The world should go according to the rules in Beauty and the Beast. You have an ugly attitude then, poof, you’re a hairy beast with a limited amount of time to win back the love of your life.
“You’re back. Finally.” He clipped out the words as though he was upset with me.
Crossing my arms, I guarded the swooping and dipping my heart seemed to be experiencing, hoping my protective arms would hold it all in place.
“Why are you in my house?” I arched my brow in question, unwilling to give in to my pathetic, romantic fantasies that he cared about me in some capacity.
Because I knew better.
“You had no hot water. Now you do.” He set the tool down on the counter, then brought his hand up to scratch his jaw.
I was so unsettled by the fact that he was in my space, standing there like he was as comfortable as ever. As though he’d been here a thousand times.
“And all the banging under the sink?”
I didn’t know much about construction, or homeownership for that matter, but I knew that my hot water heater wasn’t under my kitchen sink.
He removed his hat, ruffling his hair with a sigh. “You had a frozen pipe.”
I let out an immature scoff. “And why exactly would you care that I have a frozen pipe?”
I knew it seemed I was being ungrateful, but why was he allowed to treat me so horribly for the past year, ignoring me, and making me feel as though I was insignificant, then start fixing things without asking?
He let out a sound of exasperation, moving away from me and back toward the sink. He pulled up on the handle, but the pipes only groaned in response. Muttering a curse, he moved toward an open tool bag on the counter.
“Colson…”
He ignored me, selecting something else from the carrier, and twisting the top of the metal tool.
Walking around the island, I pulled his arm. “Colson.”
“What, Nora?” His blue eyes flashed, his jaw set in a hard line.
“Why are you here?” I repeated, hating how close I stood to him and how good it felt to be in his orbit. Even after his harsh words, his presence was like a weighted blanket, pressing down on all my fears and anxiousness.
“Your pipes—”
Shaking my head, I stepped away from him. “No.” I tried again. “Why are you here?”
His expression narrowed, his jaw clenched tight and ticked until finally he tossed the tool back into the bag with a frustrated sigh.
“Is it really so crazy to think that I’d want to help you?”
Laughing incredulously, I said, “Yes, it is!”
Stepping closer, feeling myself start to unravel, I yelled.
“I don’t need your help. I didn’t ask for you to come here!”
“Well, too fucking bad!” He roared back, stepping closer.
We were yelling at one another, it was ridiculous, but I had all this frustration burning under my skin, from his rejections over the past year and what he said on his porch last night.
Like an ice pick stuck in my chest, it froze any possibilities that he’d ever see me as anything other than a burden.
Sidestepping his proximity, I tried to push past him. “Well, I don’t want your help.”
His hand shot out, landing on my hip. It was the most intimate thing between us, even beyond him seeing me naked in the tub. I froze in place with air caught in my throat, my skin burning under his gaze.
“Tough shit.” He grumbled before his lips landed on mine.
Too shocked to move, I allowed his chest to brush against mine until he was standing so close, I could hear every rumble caught in his throat.
His hand tightened at my waist as my mouth moved against his.
Almost as if there was no other choice but to open for him, his tongue swept against mine, undoing all my defenses.
His jaw slid to the side, emanating another rumble.
I finally allowed myself to get lost in the feel of him, smelling that delicious spice that filled my lungs with each heaving breath.
My fingers linked at the base of his neck, which brought him closer.
He tasted me like he was desperate for me…
like he’d been waiting for this. In turn, I clung to him hopelessly and desperately as he pushed against me and my ass pressed into the counter.
But I grew too greedy.
Because the second a moan slipped free from me, he froze, and with a rush of air, he briskly pulled away.
Unfortunately, it was behind my breastbone where I felt the tug, and it was about as painful as pulling apart superglued skin. How would he know that his actions would be felt on such a deep level? It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t have to break into my heart to already own a piece of it.
He had been there, existing, thriving in a place he had no right to be, and now he’d kissed me and pulled away as if he had been caught in the garden of Eden, stealing apples and shit.
I already knew without having to hear a single word that he regretted it.
I closed my eyes, so I didn’t have to witness it, and waited until I heard him leave. Not until the front door creaked open and then slammed shut did I finally let myself stare at his bag of tools as if they could explain what had just happened.