She was an elderly woman who was evidently friends with his friend, Nolan Harper.
It was like everyone knew each other out here. And took care of each other, too.
That was one part of small-town life Ididmiss.
Right now, I didn’t have anyone who would take care of me if a disaster happened to me.
Normally that didn’t bother me, but I could see how when I got to be Mrs. Patterson’s age it would be nice to have sweet, strong men helping to keep a roof over my head.
One thing had become obvious today. Clayton was a good man, evident by the tray of cookies Mrs. Patterson had delivered to him, loudly announcing that she wished she could pay him something more than this for fixing her roof.
He’d awe-shucked his way through the conversation, giving me a side glance along the way as though he didn’t want me knowing he was the kind of man who would do a four thousand dollar job for free if it involved helping a poor, old woman out.
It made it harder to keep my professional distance, knowing this about him.
Especially when he’d insisted I eat one of her cookies, still fresh from the oven.
The taste had brought me straight back to childhood. They were simple peanut butter cookies with a fork pressed in the center, just like my momma used to make. I hadn’t tasted anything that good in years.
Oh,this man was getting under my skin. He was going to turn me into a regular bleeding heart if he kept this up.
I needed to get a closer look at some damage near the roofline, and the short ladder leaning against the side of the house was the only way up. Clayton positioned himself behind me as I climbed, close enough that I could feel his presence behind me.
“I’m spotting you,” he said when I glanced back. “These rungs are wet.”
He wasn’t wrong. The metal was slick under my hands, and I climbed carefully, documenting the damage with my phonecamera while trying not to think about the man standing three feet below me.
Coming down was even worse.
My heel missed a rung, slipping on the wet metal, and I stumbled backward with a startled gasp, my glasses flying off my face.
Clayton was there to catch me, his chest solid against my back, his hands steadying me in his embrace.
I could feel his heartbeat against my shoulder blade, steady but faster than it should have been.
His fingers flexed against my hips, pulling me closer and refusing to let go.
“You need to be careful. No more ladders today.” His voice was a low rumble that I felt more than heard.
“Yeah,” the word came out breathless. “Okay.”
“And you can’t wear these heels again. I forbid it,” he rumbled. “You’re going to break your neck out here.”
I sighed and told him the truth. “These are the only shoes I have right now.”
“Well, tomorrow we’re going to buy you aproperpair of work boots. This is ridiculous.”
Neither of us moved for another long moment.
Then, slowly he stepped back, and his hands fell away.
We pretended nothing had happened while I hunted for my glasses on the ground, but I caught Angela Patterson watching us with knowing eyes.
Women like heralwaysknew.
I feared the local rumor mill would be buzzing about us by sunset.
Chapter 8
