Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Noah’s coffee pot chugged along as he toed on a pair of slides, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He opened the back door and headed for the workshop he had built himself over a number of years.
Izzy’s visit had been great, but it had put him a couple days behind schedule. Two dressers needed a coat of varnish, the HVAC was on the fritz at the Winter Lane apartments, and he would finish up the day with a shift at the sanctuary.
Too many tasks, not enough hours. But he couldn’t afford to take his foot off the gas, especially with Willow Bend in peril.
A scatter of goosebumps ran down his bare arms. It would be a good day to air out the shop.
He opened the French doors and let the breeze stir the pile of sawdust he hadn’t hit with the Shop-Vac yet.
He inspected his latest work—a pair of solid oak dressers for the Inn—and brushed a bit of dust off the top.
The lathe caught his eye, and he frowned.
Now that he had a neighbor, he was going to have to be more mindful of when he fired up the noisy equipment.
No one had lived next door since he built the shop, so he’d been free to start in the early morning hours.
What if Cassie wasn’t a morning person? It probably wouldn’t be an issue—she’d be at work a lot.
He glanced through the workshop window into her backyard.
The house was quiet, and the window upstairs was open but curtains drawn.
She’d only been moved in for maybe three days, and they had barely crossed paths.
Her light had still been on when he went to bed the night before. Maybe she was a night owl.
The memory of spotting her with Will prickled his skin.
She had barely been in town for five minutes, and already Will was swooping in. He was a good friend but a nightmare of a romantic partner. He had chewed up and spit out more women than the rest of the bachelors in Aster Hollow combined.
Cassie should have better judgment. Not that he cared what she did with her free time.
He turned his attention back to work.
Golden hour was starting, casting a rosy hue into the cloudless sky. All the natural light in the early morning was perfect for detail work. But first, coffee.
In the kitchen, that initial hit of caffeine stirred his soul. He was just starting to look over his to-do list when a flash of color in his periphery drew his attention to the backyard. He stared out the window over the sink. What the hell was that?
He waited, scanning, but nothing moved. Must’ve been a deer. They were always coming out of the woods and shitting everywhere.
Back to business. He needed to get a move on.
Back to the workshop he went, mug in hand. The dew-covered grass brushed his ankles as he trudged. Great, add “mow the lawn” to the to-do list. At least he wouldn’t have to do the house next door anymore. Assuming Dr. Bossypants knew how to use a mower.
He took a step inside the shop and froze.
That wasn’t a deer. That was a fucking dog, and it was chewing on the leg of one of the brand-new and very expensive dressers.
“Hey,” he shouted. The dog stopped gnawing and looked at him, not even a little bit ashamed. His ridiculous curly tail rested on his back, and his face looked like a fox.
Where the hell had he come from? Anger bubbled up hot and strong, like a dam had just burst in his chest.
There was only one place it could have come from. He grabbed the dog by the collar and tugged him toward Cassie’s.
You’d think a veterinarian would have a well-trained dog, not one that was destroying other people’s property. And where the hell was the woman of the hour? Was the fenced-in yard not good enough for her dog? Was she just going to let it run all over the place?
The dog resisted, digging his feet into the grass until the collar squished his neck up, shrouding his face in fluff.
He grunted and picked the dog up instead. The dog licked his face and happily settled in.
Noah stormed through his gate and over to Cassie’s front door. He kicked it since he didn’t have any hands.
She opened the door thirty seconds later, hair a wild mess and wearing an oversized T-shirt that barely skimmed the top of her thighs.
Focus, idiot.
“Does this belong to you?” he asked gruffly.
She gasped. “Taco, what the hell? He was in the backyard a second ago. I just stepped away to make a coffee. There must be a—”
He pushed the dog into her arms, and she staggered. “I found him gnawing on a very expensive woodworking project I’m making for the Inn.”
Her face was ashen. Her eyes were wide, clear, and full of apology, but for some reason, it only made him angrier.
“Oh my god,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Noah. What was it? I’ll pay for the damages.”
He pointed a finger at her. “Just keep your dog on your fucking property. And why isn’t he trained better? Shouldn’t you be an expert?”
She took a step back, sadness shining in her eyes. But then her nostrils flared, and her eyes hardened. “You really want to talk about irresponsible pet ownership?”
Anger bubbled up again. “Huck is not a pet. His escape was an accident and you know it.”
She set the dog down gently, and the T-shirt slid even higher up her thighs, revealing an underbutt that was impossible not to notice. And he hated himself for noticing. Fuck.
“Well, Taco’s mishap was an accident too, and he didn’t endanger anyone’s life. Also, for your information, I just got him from the shelter. That’s why he’s not better trained.”
A likely story.
She stopped to scan him from head to toe. “I know your type. Nothing is more important than your work. You pretend you’re all about discipline, but really, it’s about control. You want to control everyone and everything.”
His heart galloped in his chest. “I don’t want to—”
“Which has probably driven away everyone in your life,” she interrupted.
“Well, I’ve spent my entire life catering to assholes.
And I won’t spend another second of this beautiful morning listening to you berate me for something that was an accident.
Now get the fuck off my porch, you sawdust-snorting meathead. ”
She kicked the door closed, almost hitting him in the face.
What had just happened?
He turned and stomped off her porch. The nerve of this woman, letting her dog destroy his property and then yelling at him? All of this after demanding thousands of dollars’ work done on the defunct vet office?
Was she going to keep bringing up his mistakes day after day? Did she not think he knew the consequences of what had happened?
Fuck.
Fuming, he went through his gate and straight to the backyard, trying to ignore the weeds that had popped up in the flower bed on the side of the house. No more tasks. If he didn’t clear his mind right now, he was going to spin about his destroyed project for the rest of the day.
He ripped his sweatpants off and dove into the water in his boxers.
The cold hit him like a punch straight to the dick, but he pulled his way stubbornly through the water, willing the repetitive motion and the burn of lactic acid to quiet his mind. It usually did. But thoughts of Dr. Bossypants and her oversized T-shirt infiltrated at least once a lap.
Irritating. Very irritating. He didn’t have time to investigate a way to dog-proof his already fenced-in yard. That was her responsibility, and he didn’t owe her an apology for yelling because her dog had destroyed his property.
Right?
Besides, she had been cruel. Brutal, even. She didn’t know him at all, so why was she laying out a whole psychiatric profile because of one interaction? And what had she called him? A sawdust-snorting meathead who pushes everyone away?
Maybe he kept people at a distance, but it was to protect them. He didn’t need some newcomer moving in next door and telling him he was some kind of monster.
His resolve hardened. He didn’t owe her an apology. And he was going to fire up his lathe whenever he damn well pleased.