Lila’s lips pressed together, pale now. Her eyes darted to the blackened husk that had been her mudroom and the subsequent soggy kitchen before snapping away again. Her hand trembled. I covered it with mine without hesitation, weaving my fingers through hers. Warm skin against cold, a grounding she didn’t fight.
Briggs went back to his notes while asking questions through the open doorway. Lila answered as best she could about whether she left her doors locked or unlocked, and if she used her porch lights. Through it all, I stayed close, her steady shadow. Every so often, her eyes flicked up to me, quick and unguarded, and each time they landed, it was like sparks catching tinder.
When Briggs stepped outside to set cameras, the house fell quiet. Only rain tapped against glass, and smoke lingered heavily.
Her voice broke that silence, low and tentative. “So they spread the gas or whatever while I was asleep in bed?”
“Looks that way, which is definitely a sign that they’re desperate. Could be that it was just a warning. They only meant for the back porch to catch. Something small.”
Her breath hitched, audible even in the hush. She turned away quickly, but not fast enough to hide the way her cheeks paled.
“We’ll get this fixed up, sugar. It’ll be just like it was. In no time, I’ll have you up against the wall again. You’llsee.” I wanted to get her back to that version of Lila that was confident and sure.
The urge to step in, to tilt her chin back and taste her again, burned fierce. Instead, I let my hand hover at the small of her back, close enough to feel the warmth radiating through the fabric. Not touching, not quite, but near enough that my body hummed.
“I’d like that,” she murmured. “This seems like a nightmare.” Her eyes watered.
Gathering her close, I wrapped my arms around her. “It does. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
She rubbed her face against my flannel, making me laugh. “Are you wiping your boogers on me, Lila Merrick?”
“Maybe.” She tipped those lips of hers up to me, showing me her sad eyes.
“I don’t mind, but you’ll have to pay the toll.” Capturing her mouth in a kiss, I poured all my want into it, and she gave a little moan, melting against me with a sigh.
“Mmm,” she licked her lips and scrubbed her fingers through the scruff of my beard (something I’d never realized I loved). “Mr. Holt,” my dick jolted. “I like this toll thing. Do it again.”
Fuck, yes. Gripping the globes of her ass, I kissed her for all I was worth until we heard Briggs calling again and had to pull away from each other. My dick probably had a zipper mark, but it was worth it to put a smile on Lila’s face this morning.
“I guess we’d better get started before I get carried away,” I winked at her. “We’ve got our supplies in thetruck. I’ll get going on hauling stuff up onto the porch. If you have more pictures you want to take for the insurance company, you should take them now.”
Wade and Cole had already taken the pictures, but she might want some more. Insurance companies were particular about what they wanted pictures of. Smoke still clung to everything. It sat in the fabric of the curtains, in the walls, in the very air, as if the house wanted to remind us of how close it had come to being lost.
“I can do that, but …” she nibbled on the lip again. Her hand brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, smudging soot across her cheek.
“Don’t you worry, sugar.” I gave her another look as I headed to my truck. “We’ll be picking this up right where we left it.” She gave a little sigh.
Doing something was better than worrying about the damage. Action was what counted. Dragging a sheet of plywood from the truck that I’d gotten from the barn this morning, I set to work. The first step would be to board up the kitchen window, which had blown out, and the back door, so that the property was secure. The glass was gone, leaving nothing but shards glittering on the ground. The adjustor couldn’t come until tomorrow, which was actually remarkable. Redhawk apparently knew someone who knew someone and had called in a favor.
Soon enough, I was able to get lost in the rhythm of my hammer pounding in nails, filling the silence. Every strike echoed against the damp walls as I set up boards to cover the broken window before I got my saw out to fit the piece for the back door. I started pushing at the sheetrockin a few spots, making mental notes of what I needed to do. Lila swept the glass into a pan; the scrape of shards against metal was oddly calming. When I paused, she glanced over her shoulder.
“You don’t have to take all this on yourself,” she said softly.
“Wasn’t planning to.” I drove the last nail home. “This is Wildwood Meadows. Word gets out, you’ll have half the town here by noon.”
As if summoned, boots crunched on the porch. Cole Truman filled the doorway, broad and easy in that way only a man who fought fire for a living could be. His utility shirt was damp, his hair darker from rain. “Heard you could use some extra hands,” he said, a ghost of a smile under the soot smudge on his cheek.
Behind him trailed Mrs. Sanderson from two streets over with her grandson in tow. Then Jesse from the feed store carrying an extra box of nails. That was the way here. People showed up.
Lila’s eyes glossed, not tears exactly, but something softer. She ducked her head quickly, voice brisk. “Thanks so much for coming.”
The next hour blurred into work. She had some of her Grams’ heritage recipes in a small box that was completely waterlogged, and Mrs. Sanderson was carefully laying them out to dry. Every so often, I caught her sniffling and looking lost until she got herself moving again with purpose. Lila’s laughter broke through once when Jesse shared a story about an old dog setting fire to his shed with a tipped camp lantern that he had probably lit about fortyyears ago. The sound came reluctantly at first, then grew warmer and brighter. It pulled at something in me, something I had been trying really hard not to name.
In the quiet stretch after, she stepped aside to answer her phone. I could hear Sage’s voice even from where I was adding another board to a window. “We’ve got the shop covered, promise,” Sage said, the background hum of Chapter & Crumb’s morning crowd carrying through. “Mia’s been running lattes like she’s training for a marathon.”
“Tell her to pace herself,” Lila laughed, exhaustion edging the sound. “Thank you both. I couldn’t…” She trailed off. Her eyes flicked to me, quick and unguarded, before she turned away, lowering her voice. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Mia chimed in. “We may have renamed the muffins Jurassic Jawbreakers.”
