I’m not even aware I’m scowling until a dull throb sets up behind my eyes and my jaw starts to ache. Flicking a worried look around me, I’m reassured that there aren’t any other cars nearby to see me frowning at the road like it personally offended me. Another thing about living in a small town—well, technically, I live about five miles outside of town, but I consider Bliss my home—is that you can’t go anywhere without someone recognizing you. And I’d rather not have locals speculating why I’m driving around looking like I want to punch someone.
Puffing out a long breath, I work my jaw to relax it. I roll my shoulders and flex my fingers as I release the steering wheel with one hand, then the other. Slamming the metaphorical door shut on memories best left alone, I start rearranging my schedule for the rest of the evening.
An hour at Angel’s, maybe an hour and a half, and back home around six or so. Take Murphy out back for ten, fifteen minutes with the magic red dot, as Rory called it when she first suggested it. Then back in for a shower, heat up one of the soups along with some buttered bread, and a couple episodes ofAlonebefore Murphy needs to go back out before bed.
Is it an exciting night? No. But I’m okay with that. I get enough excitement at work. Home is for stability and quiet and being alone to do whatever I want.
As I turn onto Angel’s street, a little voice in the back of my head whispers,Are you sure that’s all you want? Quiet and solitude? What about a woman to come home to, like your friends have? What about debating over what to watch whilecuddling on the couch? What about having someone to curl up next to in bed? Can you really say you wouldn’t like those things?
No,I reply silently. Stubbornly.I would not. I like my life as it is.That’s why, when I get to Angel’s place, I’m going to be polite but be absolutely sure not to give her any ideas of the possibility of more.
Who knows, after all. Angel may have said something to Hazel aboutme. Maybe that’s where these renewed matchmaking efforts are coming from.
Except Angel’s never shown any sign of interest in me. She’s always pleasant when she sees me, whether it’s at Blissful Brews or around town. But she’s never flirted. Never asked if I wanted to get a drink. Never even given me her number.
It can’t be easy for her, I consider, as the faded green shingles of her house come into view. Raising a kid on her own. And how many guys in town would take dating a woman with a kid seriously? How many would disregard Angel because, in their mind, her daughter is a complication they don’t want?
Maybe Angel is as much a target of Hazel’s matchmaking scheme as I am.
Does she even know I’m coming over?I wonder belatedly.Will she even want my help?
“If she doesn’t,” I say to myself. “That’s fine. More time for me to relax at home.”
Except now that I’m only a couple of houses down from Angel’s, I’mnothappy with what I’m seeing. At all.
Wearing a bright pink jacket, she’s easy to find at the top of the ladder as she tacks up a string of lights. But even with the height of the extension ladder—looks like a ten-footer, at my best guess, she still has to stretch to reach the second-story eaves.
Looking at the scene, I immediately catalog several things that could go wrong.
The ladder might not be set evenly on the ground, especially with the soil in full-freeze. And if she leans too far to one way or the other, it wouldn’t take much to send the ladder toppling over.
The string of lights loosely wound over her shoulder could catch on something, tugging Angel off-balance.
And what about the lights themselves? She has them plugged in, ostensibly to get a better idea of how they’ll look at night, but are they in good condition? Or are they old and stripped, and one wrong touch could give her a shock?
Yes, I’m well aware I’m imagining disaster when there’s no reason to. Angel probably has this all well in hand. She’s responsible for a child’s life, after all, which brings huge responsibility. Honestly, I should give her more credit instead of thinking the worst.
But shit.
As I pull to a stop in front of her house, I spot a few more unsettling details. Like Angel’s shoes, which don’t look like the kind that give much traction. Shoes that could slip easily on the slick metal rungs of the ladder. Then there’s?—
Stop it,I tell myself.You’re being ridiculous.Just because Angel is small and pretty and looks like the kind of woman any man would want to protect doesn’t mean sheactuallyneeds help.
She keeps up this house, after all, and for a woman on her own, that’s no small thing.
Except I’m not terribly thrilled by the condition of the house, either. Now that I’m parked in front of it, I’m noticing the broken railing on the porch and the loose shutter beside one of the second-story windows. And the maple tree beside the househas a dead branch overhanging the roof that could cause serious damage if it falls.
Not that I’m planning on fixing all those things. It’s just habit, grown from years of being a homeowner, and more recently, buying a fixer-upper myself.
Still. It wouldn’t be hard to cut that branch down. Get one of those extension saws, and ten minutes max, it would be done.
Nope.I slam yet another metaphorical door shut. I’m not getting involved any more than I have to. I’ll just tell Alec about it—since Angel and Hazel are friends, I’m sure he’d be happy to take care of it. Or shit, what about Knox, one of my other GMG teammates? He owns a construction business, for Pete’s sake. It would be nothing for Knox to swing by and take care of it.
Decision made—no extra repairs, that’s it—I shut off the engine and grab my phone from the console. I watch Angel through the side window for a second, debating the best way to let her know I’m here without scaring the shit out of her.
She stretches a few inches higher as she tacks another length of lights up. It looks like the staple gun she’s using is giving her trouble, because she’s stapled the same spot several times, and now she’s shaking her head in frustration.
My hand is on the handle of the car door, my intent to get out as quietly as I can, then head over to the base of the ladder before saying anything.
