“You said yesterday you planned to tackle the ceiling and we thought some extra muscle wouldn’t hurt.” Sam grinned up at him. “If we’d known you had Wonder Woman on hand, we’d have left you to it and gone for a drink.” He gave Leah a wink as she came back into the room and Jackson watched the full-strength smile return to her lips. “Happy to be in charge of the music, if you want.”
Kash smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I’d have left him at home but he chews the furniture if I’m out too long.”
Chapter 15
Leah
The atmosphere lightened again. Progress was much quicker with the boys’ help, though Leah had been quietly amazed Jackson let them stay. Kash rivaled Jackson for competence with a power tool and Sam was just Sam—funny, upbeat, and more helpful than he let on.
Niamh wandered downstairs late morning and carefully skirted the worst of the mess, heading straight for the kitchen and the coffee machine. She made drinks for everyone, declared her part of the operation complete—after insisting the forgotten mouse corpse was properly disposed of—and took her phone straight back upstairs again.
Jackson unwound a little as the afternoon wore on. His shoulders became less hunched, his brow less frowny. The realtors brought out the best in him, Leah thought; it was a shame she didn’t. That rare, brief smile even broke out a couple of times. Leah watched for it like a glimpse of the northern lights, but it was never aimed at her. He handed it out sparingly to Sam or Kash and once—a bigger, softer version—to Handyman Stan, who sauntered in through the open front door to see what was going on. Toofocused on the tender sweep of Jackson’s hand over Stan’s sleek head as he crouched to fuss over the cat, Leah walked into the ladder.
This one-sided physical attraction was mortifying, even more so because she knew it was inappropriate and Jackson was a grade-A dick.
Halfway through the afternoon, he disappeared to the kitchen and returned, ten minutes later, holding a plate piled high with unevenly cut sandwiches. “Lunch break.”
The boys put down tools, removed gloves, and dived in. Leah grimaced at the state of her hands and went to wash up. On the breakfast bar, scribbled hurriedly on a scrap of paper, Jackson had noted down the specifications of her car tires and the number for Manning’s Mobile Tire Service. His writing was appalling. The gesture, she guessed, was an apology of sorts.
In the end, it took until early evening to finish taking down the ceiling, and Leah had blisters on her palms and aching shoulders to show for it.
Jackson found newspapers and matches while Sam went foraging for marshmallows at the 24/7 Pump ’n’ Shop. Kash built a long makeshift bench by resting some of the boards across two cut tree stumps and Leah made a jug of iced apple juice and ginger beer.
When the fire outside was roaring, Niamh joined them to roast marshmallows. She was wrapped in a coat of Jackson’s and, unaccountably, Leah envied that more than any of the other clothes Niamh seemed to have in her endless closet. Jackson’s girlfriend picked at a marshmallow and grimaced when the breeze blew the smoke in her direction, but Leah was in heaven. As the temperature dipped, she pulled her hands inside the sleeves of an old sweater and shuffled closer to the flames, roasting and devouring marshmallows well past the point of feeling sick. It was an evening straight out of her childhood, when bonfires with her dad had been commonplace;the memories were priceless. Though she was exhausted and filthy, she didn’t want it to end.
They let the fire burn low once most of the boards were gone and Niamh retreated inside, saying she’d had enough of the cold and the midges. Even Leah was beginning to shiver.
“Time to go, man.” Sam yawned and stretched; Kash climbed to his feet.
They grabbed their belongings, slapped Jackson on the back, and called goodbye to Niamh. On the porch, they trapped Leah in a tight three-way, woodsmoke-scented hug before piling into their car.
“You can have first shower.” Jackson leaned against the living room doorframe. His eyes were shadowed and he rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. Hot as fuck in a suit, sinfully tempting in jeans and a filthy t-shirt. Leah had no idea which was her favorite Jackson to look at. Startled by her own train of thought, and before she said something unfiltered, she nodded and started up the staircase.
“Leah.” His gravelly voice halted her feet.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I snapped earlier. My dad pissed me off and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that.” The apology was unexpected; surprise coated her exhale. Jackson remained in the doorway but he’d braced himself as if he was waiting for her to throw his words back in his face. “I won’t do it again.”
Leah nodded. “OK.”
There was relief in the curve of his lips, gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks for your help today.”
Third step up, she was almost at his eye level and she felt her frustration toward him wash away. Leah smiled across the foyer. “Thanks for the bonfire. I had fun.” He didn’t need to know how much it meant to her.
Jackson dipped his chin and disappeared into the depths of the living room.
In the shower, she turned the water up as hot as she could stand, closed her eyes, and bent her head against the steamy cascade, rinsing the smell of smoke out of her hair. Behind her eyelids danced images of Jackson’s biceps, rock-hard and ripped, muscles tensing as he hefted multiple boards onto one of his broad shoulders with casual ease. His sheer size made him impossible to ignore. His complex moods, just impossible. He was difficult to read, prickly, and borderline rude. In fact, plain rude. There was no borderline. And yet, for all his bite, after tonight she couldn’t deny it anymore: there was something about him that reached out to her. She wished she understood what and why.
Leah gave a guilty start and cut off the water, reminding herself of his girlfriend’s presence downstairs.
She’d been surprised that Jackson had made up one of the bedrooms on the second floor for Niamh, rather than sharing his own. Last night, she’d read until she couldn’t keep her eyes open, doing her best to block out the thought of him visiting Niamh’s room, his hands on Niamh’s body, his tongue stroking Niamh’s lips. She didn’t sleep well. Leah refused to go down that road again tonight.
Today had been a complete break from the usual. And tomorrow, Jackson and Niamh would leave again—together.
Willow or copper beech, Leah knew who and what she was. And what she most definitely wasnotwas a stylish blonde with legs for miles and a haircut that probably cost more than her laptop. She pulled on a pair of pajamas, wrapped her hair in a towel, and tried to ignore the tightness in her chest.
Jackson jiggled his car keys in the palm of one hand and pulled his cell from his pocket with the other. “You ought to have my phone number.”
