“Do you smell smoke?”
“No, but should I call the fire department?” she asked, feeling her brows furrow.
“No, wait for me.”
“Umm, not to sound ungrateful, but you’re an hour away, if not more.”
“I’m about to make a right onto our block.”
Our block. She liked the sound of that. “Wait, our block?”
“Yeah, I had enough of the boys’ weekend. I wanted to come home. I …”
“Yeah?” She felt the urge to squeal but instead waited for his response. Was he feeling what she was feeling? Is that why he came back? Did her picture drive him mad with desire? His early return was a good sign. But was it for her or some other reason altogether? The seconds felt like minutes, and she had to force herself to breathe.
“Nothing. Hang tight. I’ll see you in a few. I’ll grab my tool bag and be right over.”
“Sounds good,” she said while inside wanting to scream. She looked up at the rotting wood ceiling and cringed, not wanting to spend another minute down there.
Dahlia sat on the front porch, impatiently waiting for him. Once she heard his motorcycle pass by, she was all too eager. There was still enough light left, perfect to watch his entrance. The instant she heard the crunching of the pebbles, she knew he was on his way. Winged creatures took flight inside her stomach. Out of the darkness, he strutted over in slow motion. It was like something out of a movie. There he was, looking allTerminatormeetsGreasein jeans, a white tank top, and a leather jacket, holding a toolbox, like a man on a mission. Tonight’s mission: to save Damsel Dahlia and fix her box. Her mind leaped to a dirty place, and she could feel her hands moisten. She snapped herself back to earth as he walked closer and met him with a great big smile.
“Hi,” he said quickly as he breezed right past her with his sexy, windblown hair. No smile, no hug, no hello, nothing. “Still no smoke, right?”
“No. Hi to you too,” she mumbled under her breath. That wasn’t the greeting she was expecting, especially after their textathon yesterday.
“Hey, boy,” he greeted Harry, giving him a sturdy pat on the head.
Okay, now she was officially annoyed that her dog got a warmer greeting than she did.
Without hesitation, he charged into the house. He took off his jacket and threw it onto the entry bench. Dahlia’s eyes roamed over his thick, corded, and veiny arms until he turned the corner down to the basement. She shadowed behind. “Harry, stay.” Dahlia barreled down the stairs, willing him to wait for her.
Noah opened the breaker box. “Yeah, this isn’t good.”
“Really? What do you see?” A mix of dread and anticipation coursed through her body.
“Well, it’s corroded.” He held the light up toward the exterior wall. “Probably from water getting in. You’re lucky, Dahlia.” He looked right at her. “This could have caused a fire. God.” He shook his head and grumbled.
Dahlia stared at his profile, hoping to get a glimpse inside his head. How could he walk past her like that? She was now convinced she’d misread this entire thing between them. She was just as concerned with what he was holding back as she was with the hypothetical fire.
“I’ll get someone here for you tomorrow to replace it.” He closed up the box. “In the meantime, you can stay with me if you want.” Noah walked to the bottom of the stairs and headed up, still not quite looking at her.
Was this a pity invite, or did hewanther there? Dahlia held onto the banister, watching him from behind. She was getting whiplash from his wavering. She wanted to know, either way, where they stood. She knew if she went, she’d most likely be tortured, soshe said, “I’ll be okay here. I’ve got candles and maybe an LED lamp.”
“Don’t say I didn’t offer.” He laughed, reaching the top of the stairs.
That was it? She was getting frostbite from his ice-cold attitude. Dahlia hesitated, reaching the landing. What was she doing? She was too old for this.
“Can I wash my hands?” Noah put the tools and flashlight on the counter. The light giving a warm glow to the ceiling.
“Sure, help yourself.” Dahlia wanted to bite her knuckle. She couldn’t believe he was standing in her kitchen after she texted him that picture last night and wasn’t going to make a move. Aside from showing up on his white horse in his white tank and fulfilling her acts of service dream list, he was acting like a wishy-washy teenage boy who’d forgotten he’d texted her the night before.
“What did you do today?” he asked, creating quite a lather.
“Oh, this and that. Housework mostly.” She smiled through the small talk while feeling her insides tangle like vines. The truth was, she wasted way too much time thinking of him. But he would never know that. She was done.
He wiped his hands on the towel and looked her up and down. “Did you go out or something?”
“Yeah,” she said, leaning back on the counter. She secretly wanted him to swirl a little. Let him think maybe she had a date.
