I fell onto my backside, hands covering my face, and a decade of pent-up emotion unleashed. The ugly sobs caught me off guard, but I went with them, needing the immense release and glad no one would ever know. My family, who I loved dearly, had absolutely drained me, for years, and they hadn’t even noticed. I’d had to move to another town just to find the time to cry.
I collapsed backward several minutes later, cries turning to hysterics at the ridiculousness of it all. Arms and legs splayed, I stared at the ceiling. Defeated by a two-hundred-year-old fireplace.
“Time to find the thermostat,” I groaned, levering myself off the floor.
A thin haze of smoke hung in the air as I rose. I fought the urge to cough and considered opening a window.
The doorbell rang, and I paused to puzzle. Who on earth would be at this door after dark? I grimaced at my filthy hands and blinkedstinging eyes as I shuffled into the foyer, hoping axe murderers didn’t ring the bell.
Maybe Grace had finally arrived? Surely she could help with the fire.
I peeked through the curtain. A white pickup truck sat in the driveway. A shadowy figure fidgeted on my porch.
I flipped the switch, bathing my visitor in a cone of light, and nearly swallowed my tongue.
The best-looking man I’d ever seen stood just outside my door.
I made an unintelligible sound as I opened the heavy wooden barrier, silently cursing karma. My perfect meet-cute, ruined.
The man raised curious gray eyes to mine and frowned as he took me in. “I’m Davis Sommers,” he said. The smooth tenor of his voice sent a delicious shiver down my spine. “I’m looking for Ed Rini.”
I frowned, wholly confused and hating every speck of ash and dust on my face, hands, and clothing. “That’s my dad,” I said. “I’m Emma.”
His strong, straight jawline flexed, and he extended his hand. “Your dad?”
“Yep.” I gave his hand a quick shake, then leaned against the doorjamb for support. Everything about his presence, from his dark tousled hair to his brown work boots and blue jeans made me feel slightly intoxicated and a little giddy. He’d even rolled up the sleeves of his button-down shirt to expose his forearms. I loved that. But I’d come here specifically not to think about men.
The wind blew a wayward curl into my eye, and I chased it off my forehead with soot-smeared fingers. Then I died a little inside, thinking of what I must look like.
“Trouble with the fireplace?” he guessed.
“A little.”
His attention rose over my shoulder, and he stepped forward, causing me to step back. “Is that smoke?”
I followed his gaze and gasped as he pushed his way inside. The haze from the sitting room had spread into the foyer behind me.
“Did you open the flue?”
I closed the door and followed as he strode toward the sitting room and fireplace. “It was open when I started, but the air kept blowing out my matches.” So I’d made an adjustment that hadn’t helped.
“This is why we only rent the place on the weekends,” he muttered, barely loud enough to hear over my pounding heart.
“You rent this place?” I asked, confused by his words. “I thought this was Grace’s house.”
“It’s a family home,” he said, immediately reaching for the flue handle. “I help her manage the property.”
I scooted to a stop in front of the smoldering wood. Suddenly registering his name. “You’re Grace’s nephew?” The one who’s good with a toolbox? I’d expected a middle-aged man with a comb-over and six kids, or maybe a nice adolescent who was actually her great-nephew. It hadn’t occurred to me Davis could be my age. Or gorgeous. “How old are you?”
“What?” He waved his arms to circulate the smoky air. “Thirty-four. Why?”
Completely age appropriate. I’d clearly done something to upset the gods.
The blast of a belated smoke alarm nearly launched me through the ceiling.
Davis began to cuss, and I pointed at the flashing red light high above our heads.
“That doesn’t seem very historically accurate,” I said flatly, annoyed by his annoyance. I obviously hadn’t intended for this to happen.
