Her expression is caught somewhere between a laugh and bewilderment.
“Seriously. He’s just being nosy. It’s best if we—”
“Hey there,” Cash says. While my back was turned, he jumped out of the truck and moseyed toward the porch. “I’m Deacon’s brother, Cash. He said he’s building you a cat gym?”
Amelia’s smile is warm but uncertain. “That’s right. I adopted an outdoor cat who’s not too happy about becoming an indoor cat. Deacon very kindly offered to help me out.”
Cash throws an arm around my shoulders. “That’s Deacon. He’s a real giver.”
I elbow him in the ribs, but he doesn’t even flinch. He just keeps that idiotic smile plastered on his face.
“I’ve been getting that impression.” The way Amelia smiles at me makes me want to shove her against a wall and show her just how much of a giver I can be.
“You know, I’m not too bad with a hammer and a nail. Maybe I can help out with this cat gym.”
I glare at my brother. “But you’ve got to finish the design for the Powell house.”
He hesitates, his eyes glittering with mischief. “You know what, you’re right.” He smiles at Amelia and sticks out his hand, letting go of me. “It was nice to meet you…”
“Amelia,” she says. “Amelia Burns.”
“Cash Sullivan. Of Sullivan Brothers Construction. You ever need anything, you give us a call.”
I sigh as Cash turns and walks away. “Want me to give you a ride home?”
“Nah. Ryland’s on his way to pick me up.” He turns and gives me a penetrating look. “You’re lucky I have a job that can’t wait.”
I turn to Amelia, who looks no less confused than before.
“We should get inside before he changes his mind,” I say.
She doesn’t hesitate. She turns and lets me into the house, shutting and locking the door behind us. My heart picks up speed at the obvious sign that she wants Cash’s company just as much as I do. Which is not at all.
“Why did he ride over here in the back of your truck?”
“He’s nosy,” I say. “And he didn’t believe I was coming over here.”
“Where did he think you were going?”
“No idea,” I say, because I don’t want to get into it with her. She doesn’t need to know about my brother’s psychoanalysis of me. And not because I think he’s right, but because I don’t want her to think he is. “But I drove over here so fast, just to get him off my back, that I didn’t pick up the supplies I need. I’m going to have to run back out and get them.”
Her smile doesn’t slip even a hair. “No problem.”
“Want to come with me?” I don’t even have a good justification. I just want to spend more time with her.
“Sure,” she says immediately. “Put me to work.”
Not why I want her to come, but she’s free to think whatever she wants.
“You don’t smell like skunk anymore,” I say, once we’re in my truck and on the road to my house. It doesn’t come out as smoothly as it sounded in my head, because in the small confines of my truck the sweet honeysuckle scent of her is overwhelming my senses.
The laugh that bursts out of her is so surprising that I startle and glance over at her.
“It’s the way you said it,” she says. “Like you’re shocked I don’t smell like skunk anymore. Like you thought I might smell that way forever.”
“It’s the only way I’ve known you,” I say.
She laughs harder.
