Somehow, she managed to stop before tacking on,you no-good, ungrateful, selfish bitchto the end of the message. As soon as she hung up, she tossed her phone on the bed. When that didn’t ease her frustration, she threw a pillow, then a book, all the while cursing a blue streak. Didn’t matter. None of it made her feel any better.
She tugged her hair up into a ponytail, stuffed her phone into her back pocket, and stormed out of her room and toward the back door. If she couldn’t take out her irritation by throwing things, she’d find something outside to use as an outlet for her anger. The lawn needed mowing, and there was no one to do it but her.
This was, without a doubt, her least favorite job, and one she’d only had to start doing since the divorce. Her whole life, she’d always had other people to do it for her. In fact, her daddy had offered more than once to have their landscaper take care of it since their properties butted up to each other. But her stubborn ass had refused. She was thirty-three years old, and she could mow her own lawn.
Except maybe she couldn’t, because seven minutes later, she was still trying to get the damn mower started. Apparently, that would take an act of God.
Why the hell did things have to be so difficult? She could’ve taken the easy way out and said yes when her daddy’d offered to take care of it for her, but she wanted to do it on her own—she wanted to doallof it on her own. Wanted to prove to not only herself but to everyone in Havenbrook that she could. That she was more than the ex-wife and daughter and momma everyone saw her as.
But she was so tired. So fucking tired. She was trying her best, dammit, and she was getting sick of it not being enough.
“Why—won’t—you—start—you—piece—of—shit!” She grunted every word through clenched teeth as she yanked the pull cord.
She had no doubt Nash could hear every bit of her commotion, which only frustrated her more. She didn’twantthe help, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t have been nice to be asked. He’d have been able to get the lawn mower started in ten seconds flat, with his huge arms and his thick, stupid boy muscles. The thought only pissed her off more, which made her yank extra hard.
The lawn mower finally rumbled to life, and she sagged in relief. At least now she didn’t have to worry about her cussing being heard over the noise.
By the time she finished mowing their large yard, strands of her hair stuck to her forehead and neck, her shirt was plastered to her back, and she smelled like a locker room full of teenage boys who hadn’t bathed in a week. All she wanted was an ice-cold shower followed by a glass of wine to help her forget this day had ever happened.
Knowing she shouldn’t do it, but unable to help herself, she pulled her phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. No missed calls. No texts. Nothing.
Fucking Natalie. If she ruined Gran’s birthday with her pigheadedness and misplaced hatred of Rory, Rory’d kill her and give Nat something to really hate her for.
She shoved the mower back in the shed and slammed the door. Then she stomped around to the front of the house. In the time it had taken her to do some quick touch-up painting inside, then her whole fiasco with the yard, Nash had managed to repair her entire front porch.
And it looked fantastic, dammit.
Ella sat next to him, rummaging through his toolbox. She’d grab a tool, hold it up to him, and he’d tell her the name. Rinse and repeat. Even looking after and engaging with a rambunctious and overly curious seven-year-old came easy to him. Rory was starting to believe everything did.
He didn’t have to worry about the ever-watchful, judgmental eyes of the town, or maintaining the status quo of her family name, or about fights with preteen daughters, or about a sister who didn’t want to talk at all, ever.
And even though she knew she shouldn’t, even though she knew none of that was his fault, she couldn’t help but hate him just a little bit because of it.
She should’ve thanked him for his work on the porch and for hanging out with Ella while she wrangled everything else. Instead, hands on hips, she snapped, “You didn’t once come out back and offer to help me.”
He replaced the monkey wrench he’d just finished telling Ella about and looked over at her. Let his eyes roam up and down her body so long, she started to squirm. How could he make her feel desirable when she was positive she was one step up from swamp ass?
“Now why would I do that when I knew you had it taken care of all on your own?”
Her mouth dropped open to respond, but nothing would come out, so she snapped it shut and simply held his gaze.
“Isn’t that right, Miss Ella?” he asked, eyes still locked on Rory.
“Yes, sir!” She nodded enthusiastically.
“What’d I tell you while you were helpin’ me?”
“That I’m the best helper you’ve ever had.”
“What else?”
“Girls can do whatever they want, and they don’t need a boy helpin’ ’em!”
“That’s right. Think we should tell your momma that?”
“Better listen to him, Momma,” she said seriously. “He knows what he’s talkin’ about.”
What should’ve been a proud moment only managed to be another chip piled high on Rory’s shoulders.Sheshould’ve taught her daughters that. She should’ve been the one reminding them of that, but she’d thought she’d show them through actions instead of words. By going out on her own and fixing up their house and making a life for the three of them without anyone’s help. And then she’d undermined it all by storming up here, demanding to know why Nash hadn’t helped her when she’d been perfectly capable of helping herself.
