Chapter Twenty-Eight
Xavier
Several Days Later
I don’t plan to stop by, but I end up pulling into her driveway anyway. The storms tore through half the county, and the last several days have been nothing but insurance calls, bids, and rearranging crews to handle the backlog. By the time I make it to the office, she’s already gone.
Every time. Which is fine. It should be fine. I cut the engine and sit there, staring at the house. Lights on inside. Porch light glowing. My hands stay on the wheel a beat too long.
I grab my tools, climb the steps, and knock once as I wipe my boots on the mat. She twists the lock and moves to the side. “Don’t step–”
Too late. I stop inside as Samson lifts his head. He doesn’t get up this time. Just watches me as if he’s deciding whether I’m safe enough to be around his family.
“Easy.” Ruby wipes her hands on her jeans, a streak of dust along her forearm. “You’re getting better at that.” She nods toward my boots.
“I’m learning.” One corner of my mouth arches upward. “And it’s still muddy out there.”
Samson settles again, satisfied. Squirt darts across the floor, hooves tapping against the wood, weaving around my legs before disappearing into the kitchen.
“Still no fear.” I step farther inside, taking in the space. The section we worked on last time is finished. Trim clean. Lines straight.
“You got the wall done.”
She shrugs like it’s nothing. “Watched a video.”
I tap my fist on the sheetrock. “It’s solid work.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks tint pink as she glances behind me. “I think the office is running smoother,” she says, like she’s changing the subject. “Your dad is yelling less.”
I arch my eyebrows. “He doesn’t yell.”
“He grunts less often, then.”
I huff a laugh. “That sounds about right. But if you’re questioning if he agrees, the answer is yes. You’re doing a good job.”
“How bad is it out there?”
“Storm damage?” I set my tools down. “The insurance jobs will keep us busy for several weeks as we work them into our regular jobs.”
“I saw Lindsey the other day.”
The name lands between us. I don’t react right away. I’m not surprised she called or showed up since I wouldn’t take her call the other night. But I’d be lying if I said I wanted her anywhere near this place.
“Yeah, she had some storm damage on her deck. Travis went out there.”
Her brow lifts. “You didn’t?”
“No.”
“Too busy?”
“Partly.” She waits. I know that look. “Didn’t feel like dealing with it.”
“With the deck?”
“With her.” The words come out flat. That earns a second look. “She messaged me off hours the other night.” I pick up a level and set it against the wall we’re about to work on. “After following me around the gym asking questions, she didn’t need answers to.”
Ruby’s mouth twitches.
“I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea. So I sent Travis.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “Does Travis usually go when you’re avoiding women?”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s get to work.”
She laughs and steps past me, grabbing the tape measure off the counter. Mine. She doesn’t comment on it. Just hands it to me as if it belongs here now.
We move into the next section of the project, falling into rhythm faster this time. Less explaining. More doing.
“Hold that.” I guide her hand into place along the board. My fingers brush hers. She stills for half a second. Then adjusts, steady again.
“Like this?”
“Yeah.” I step back and give her space, more than I need to. She notices. Of course she does.
We work in silence for a few minutes. Just the sound of wood shifting, tools scraping, Squirt’s hooves tapping somewhere in the background. Easier than it should be.
“Heard you didn’t stop for lunch again today.”
“You’re keeping track now? I was busy. There’s still a lot to do to get everything in order.” Her eyes twinkle with humor. “Your dad offered me a granola bar again like it’s a peace treaty.”
I chuckle as the vision of Dad handing over one of his prized granola bars. “Two of his prized granola bars in one week? That’s high praise.”
“I figured.” She lines up the next cut, checking it twice before nodding.
I pull back, resting my hip against the countertop. “You like it?”
“The job?”
She’s focused. Content. Relaxed. Not dealing with the bullshit at the gym. Working at the shop. Here, where I can…. I shut that thought down.
“Yes. I do.”
“Good. You’re doing a good job.”
She glances up. “You said that already.”
“I meant it both times.”
That earns a small smile. Quick and then gone just as fast. “Good.”
With that, we go back to work.