Lila groaned. “Please don’t scare off my customers.”
“Too late,” Sage sing-songed, and the line filled with their laughter before the call ended.
She lingered with her phone in her hand, staring at the black screen as if clutching onto a thread of comfort. Then she set it aside and looked back at me. Our eyes met, and for a long moment, the noise of the house and the sounds of tools and voices faded away.
“You’ve got good people,” I said.
Her lips curved faintly. “We do. This is a good place.”
The words hung between us, weighted. Not just her.We. And maybe that was the most dangerous part of all. Thewe. Could I be part of a we?
I returned to work before the heat in my chest spilled into something reckless. Every time she brushed past, I wanted to step in, to steady her, to claim more than I had any right to. The fire had taken enough. She deserved someone who could promise her peace. I had never been that man. It was a fact. I’d said I would stay … but could I keep that promise? I thought I might be able to, but there was still a part of me that was ready to sprint out of this town.
But when she bent to lift a scorched board and swayed just slightly, my hand was there before thought, firm at the small of her back. The contact was fleeting, but her breath caught sharp enough that it told me she felt it too.
30
Lila
The smell of smoke clung to everything, all the way up into my nostrils and the passages of my throat. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. The porch and the mudroom were a total loss. I’d been expecting that, but what was really awful was the water and smoke damage in the kitchen. I wasn’t sure it was even salvageable.
East claimed it was fixable, but I wasn’t sure it was. It looked like a total loss. Maybe it would be better to tear it down and start fresh. The thought was bleak (and expensive).
One by one, neighbors drifted away. Mrs. Sanderson pressed a casserole into my hands even though the fire department had turned off my power, but who could say no to a casserole? Jesse promised more nails if we needed them. It was one of the reasons that I loved WildwoodMeadows. You could count on people to show up in your darkest moments. Sure, small towns had their faults. I couldn’t discount that. But they also had their own special kindnesses, too.
Those things helped steady me. When everything else faded and East leaned against the front porch post, arms folded, watching me with that unreadable look that made my stomach twist, I tried to focus. Damp hair stuck to his forehead, his shirt stretched across broad shoulders, and he seemed to have all the patience in the world.
“You’ve done enough for today,” he said, his voice firm. “Let me take you out. Dinner. We could go to The Holy Pig. Have some barbecue?”
Dinner. The word felt strange. How could anyone eat when my whole kitchen still reeked of ash? Yet something in his tone cut through the fog, something steady that made me want to nod before I had thought it through. I mean, what else could I do right now?
“I don’t know,” I hedged, my fingers worrying at the edge of my sleeve.
He didn’t push, just arched one brow like he already knew how the conversation would end. “You need food. You need a break. Say yes.”
The smallest smile tugged at my lips, surprising me. Somehow, he made it sound less like an order and more like inevitability.
“Where am I even supposed to stay tonight?” I already knew the answer, but the question slipped out before I could stop it. Wade and Briggs had already told me they wanted me away from the cottage tonight, and it wouldhave depressed me to come out and look at the kitchen like this.
“The farmhouse,” he said instantly. “Plenty of room. You were comfortable there, right? Maggie will love it. Safer there than anywhere else. I want you there.”
My chest tightened. The Holt farmhouse was more than safe—it was a place of family and belonging. Staying there meant admitting I couldn’t manage this alone. That someone had driven me away, and that tasted bitter. But when my eyes lifted to his, all I saw was patience. No judgment.
But.
Staying there also meant easy access to all that was Easton Holt, and that wasn’t anything to sneeze at. Maybe I could get a few more of those sexy times that he had to offer.
“All right,” I whispered. “For tonight.”
The tension eased from his shoulders, almost too quickly, though he covered it by picking up the broom and setting it against the wall. “Good. Let’s go grab a bite.” He swiped up the small suitcase I’d managed to pack. All the clothes I’d picked up still seemed to smell of smoke to me, but I figured I could try to wash them. Somehow, the smell had permeated the entire cottage, but it might just be because I couldn’t get it out of my nostrils.
Dinner. The idea should have been ordinary. Instead, it set nerves fluttering low in my stomach, not because of the food but because of him. Because of the way his hand had found mine earlier. Because of how heat still lingered where his palm had pressed against my back.
My phone chimed in my pocket, pulling me out of that dangerous line of thought. My eyes raised to East’s as I answered. It was the insurance company. Listening for a moment, and replying at the right times, the adjuster’s voice droned through the phone, talking about claims and estimates as if the cottage were nothing more than a line item. Appraisers tomorrow. Measurements, photographs. It all sounded practical, but the moment I ended the call, my chest felt tighter.
“They’ll be here tomorrow,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. “Pictures, estimates, all of it. Rhodes really came through on getting someone to call right away. The guy makes it sound so simple.”
“It’ll be handled.” His answer came without hesitation, solid enough to hold me up if I let it. “It’s a lot, sugar. This is just the first step, but we’ll all help the whole way.”
