After a long moment, it shrieked open with a tortured groan to reveal Iris. Her eyes flew open when she recognized me. Her hair was pulled back in that messy bun, a smudge of what looked like blue paint on her cheek, and a pair of oversized safety glasses perched on top of her head. She was wearing cutoff denim shorts that showcased an impressive length of tanned leg, and a paint-splattered T-shirt that had clearly seen better days yet still managed to look sexy.
And my eyes, those goddamn traitors, droppedimmediately to her mouth. With Herculean strength, I kept them from falling to her breasts.
The memory of Friday afternoon flooded back with an unwelcome, visceral intensity. Heat rushed up my neck, into my face. I quickly looked away, fixing my gaze on a particularly alarming crack in the ancient door.
Jesus. Don’t look at her mouth. Don’t think about it. Don’t remember it.
I was failing spectacularly on all three counts, but I finally met her clear blue eyes.
For her part, she looked equally flustered, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. “Austin! I… I wasn’t expecting you.” Her voice was a little breathless as she shouldered open the door further with another ear-rending shriek.
The sound was so jarring I flinched. My mouth opened, and the first thing that came out was, “You going to call an exorcist for that door?”
She laughed, the sound a welcome relief in the charged air. She patted the door. “Oh, I think it’s part of the historic charm. I’ve named him Shrieky. He’s the house’s built-in security system. Scares away any traveling salesmen who might call.”
The absurd image of salesmen fleeing in terror made me crack a smile despite my tense mood. “Right. You named the door.”
“I suppose I’ll need to replace it, though. Shrieky isn’t exactly welcoming, is he?”
I just stood there, unable to think of a response to that.
“Chase,” I blurted out, desperate to get this over with, to escape before my brain short-circuited even more. Or I did something even worse, like grabbing both her shoulders and kissing her senseless. “My brother-in-law. The architect. He can come by early tomorrow morning. Forthat consultation you wanted.” The words came out too fast, too gruff, but I was helpless to change anything.
Her eyes widened before lighting up with a hopeful brightness that was hard to look at directly. Yet I couldn’t look away, either.
“Oh, Austin, thank you! That’s wonderful news! Really. I don’t know how to thank you enough.”
Her smile was sweet, unguarded, and it did something strange to the knot in my gut. Loosened it, maybe. Or just rearranged it into a different but equally uncomfortable configuration.
“Yeah, well,” I mumbled, already backing away. “He’s doing me a favor, fitting you in.” I needed to deflect, to minimize my involvement, to put some distance back between us.
“He said early,” I added. My tone implied it better be acceptable. “Before his regular workday. Around seven-thirty. That work for you?”
“Yes! Absolutely!” she assured me, her hands clasped together in front of her. “Whenever is good for him. I’ll be here. I’ll have coffee on! And maybe scones or something?” She offered the last part with a hesitant, hopeful little smile.
More damn baked goods. The thought was automatic, but this time, it lacked its usual venom. It was almost… resigned. But not anticipatory. Nope, not that.
“Right. Whatever you want.” I turned to leave. My job here was well and truly done.
I made it to the edge of her porch, halfway to freedom, when her voice stopped me.
“Austin?”
I paused, my back still to her, bracing myself.
“Thank you,” she repeated, her voice softer this time, less effusive, more sincere. “Really. For this. And for… for Friday. With the siding. I needed help, and you were there.”
I stood there for a long moment, the sun beating down on my neck, the scent of her—dust, paint, and that faint, lingering sweetness—teasing my senses. My heart felt like a lumbering bison in my chest.
I should just nod.
Walk away. End it.
But the words, rough and foreign, found their way out. “You’re, uh, welcome.” I cleared my throat, still not turning around. “I’m glad I was there. When you… you know. Needed it.”
The silence stretched, thick with unspoken things. Then, a soft, “Good night, Austin.”
“Night, Iris.” The name slipped out, easy, natural, before I could stop it.
