Skin Heat (11 page)

Once again, her voice soothed him. Even if she’d created knots of unwelcome desire in him, she also made them go. Some of the raw edges smoothed away.

“My grandma made it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

She meant it. Since coming home, he’d discovered sincerity had a scent. He could smell when people were lying to him. Like Skip Felton at the drugstore. Zeke had known he was going to crumple his application as soon as he walked out the door.
We don’t want any crazy Nobles working here,
his eyes said.

But Neva didn’t do that. She was often sad or angry or exhausted, or some combination of the three. But she wore those feelings openly. It made her an honest island in a sea of liars.

They ate in silence, listening to the radio. She looked absolutely worn out, so once they finished, he said, “Get some sleep.”

“You’ll wake me when it’s my turn to look after them?”

Zeke made some noncommittal noise, but when the time came, he didn’t. She needed somebody to take care of her for a little while. Maybe he’d never have what he wanted of her, but he could have this much. He’d make do.

 

When Neva got
up in the morning, she felt amazingly good. And then she realized she hadn’t lifted a finger all night. He’d said he would get her up but clearly that hadn’t happened. Oh, crap. If they’d both slept through the night, the kittens could be in bad shape. Without getting dressed, she bolted from her room. She’d left them in the kitchen—

“Don’t worry,” he said. “They’re fine.”

“You did it all.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Zeke, you
shouldn’t
have. I committed to these babies, not you.”

“Reckon they’re as much mine as yours, now.”

Well, that was true. Some of the fear dialed back. She had the irrational surety that if she could save these three kittens, then Luke would be all right, too, somehow. It was illogical, sympathetic magic, the kind people practiced as kids.
Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.
Most days, Neva was very careful not to step on any cracks because she loved her mom. Other days, if Lillian had been hard on her, she would stomp them. It never made any difference but it gave the illusion of having some power to change circumstances. She couldn’t overlook the value of that.

Everyone else believed Luke was dead.

The sheriff was still investigating, of course. But the trail had gone cold, and they all thought the best possible resolution would be to discover his body, so their family received closure. There were no leads. Just an empty car on the highway.

“When did they eat last?”

“An hour ago. Breakfast’s on the table.”

“Good Lord,” she said. “I didn’t agree to this so you could wait on me. You’re doing too much.”

“Can’t cook pancakes for one,” he said.

It was impossible to argue with him. He just didn’t offer enough words in a single go to give her complaints traction. Further, after his kindness, it just seemed churlish to protest. Plus, she was hungry.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Woulda been a long weekend,” he agreed.

Holy crap, he was right. Today was Saturday. He’d saved her from spending a whole weekend alone in the clinic with the kittens. She really
had
to thank him properly.

All men appreciate sex,
Julie’s voice suggested. It was a testament to Neva’s inner workings that her mischievous side always sounded like her best friend. When they were kids, it had always been Julie suggesting stuff that got them in trouble. Neva would follow along more reluctantly, conscious of what people would think because she was a Harper, and she ought to be better than this. The only thing she’d ever done, against her family’s wishes, was go to vet school. She didn’t regret the decision, despite all the complications.

Breakfast was oddly comfortable. She thanked him for the meal and then showered. It was rare that she found herself not besieged with work calls, even on a Saturday. Her cell phone served as her emergency number; people rang up if their pets suffered any life-threatening injuries or illnesses. Neva hoped they didn’t today, though this time of year was notorious for trouble. If it wasn’t a hunting accident, then somebody’s dog ate something he shouldn’t at a holiday party, and then wound up in her office. To say nothing of cats chewing on Christmas lights.

But a good night’s sleep had gone a long way toward restoring her energies. She appreciated Zeke’s kindness more than she could say, but he wasn’t in the kitchen when she came downstairs. Banging drew her toward the porch; Neva grabbed her jacket from the hall closet before going outside. She’d noticed one of the steps was broken coming in last night; he’d guided her over it. Now, she watched as he repaired it. His hands were quick and deft. Maybe it wasn’t enlightened but she’d seen men doing such things so rarely that she liked it. There was just something about a guy who knew how to swing a hammer.

She admired the bunch and pull of his muscles with each movement. Despite the chill, he wore only a thin white T-shirt, which seemed strange. But he didn’t appear to notice the cold. No goose bumps. When he bent to place the last nail, his jeans slid down, revealing the taut slope of his lower back; they were loose in a way that spoke of recent weight loss. His skin was smooth and beautiful. He hitched them up in an absent movement, but not before she saw the gorgeous curve of his hipbone.

Oh, God, he didn’t have anything on beneath his jeans. How she wished she didn’t know that . . . because it invited all manner of unsuitable thoughts.
I’m his boss,
she told herself.
This is inappropriate. He’s helping you out, and you respond by ogling him? Nice, Neva. Really nice.

Plus, he could look to younger women for his hook ups. She was thirty-one, and men always seemed to want the nubile coed, no matter how old they were. Four years wasn’t a huge age difference, but that, coupled with her role as his boss, rendered her interest ten kinds of wrong. A lawsuit would destroy her practice, so she had to keep things respectable, even under these odd circumstances.

“Anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head. While she looked on, he finished securing the new step in place and checked how secure it was by putting his weight on it. “Don’t mind me. Just have work I need to be doing.”

It rankled that he wanted her to sit around like a hothouse flower. If she was going to accept room and board from him, he ought to let her help. What was she supposed to do all day, between kitten feedings? She suspected he wouldn’t budge on this particular argument, however.

Remodeling an old house would be fun for her, not that she expected him to believe it, especially with her background. She had quiet dreams for when the practice was stable and she’d fought clear of the bad luck. One day, she’d buy a place like this and restore it by hand. She had a bunch of DIY books at the apartment; Neva never called her landlady when something minor needed fixing. That self-sufficiency didn’t extend to holes in the ceiling or broken glass, unfortunately, but she’d unplugged the drains more than once.

“Me, too,” she said firmly. “I just need you to tell me what it is.” He glanced up then, wearing a doubtful look. She didn’t let that deter her. “It looks to me like you should replace that support column or the porch is coming down, sooner rather than later. Do you have the wood?”

“Yeah. But that’s a two-person job.”

“Well, I’m here.”

To her surprise, he nodded without further protest and went toward the garage. When he returned, he carried the raw column, already cut in proper shape. How he’d expected to do it on his own, though, she had no idea. But maybe he’d intended to call a friend over today. She didn’t know that much about him, after all.

“Need you to hold this while I get the other one.”

She knew what he needed her to do. But she hadn’t been expecting for him to flip a bucket, step up on it, and pull the weak column loose with his bare hands. He caught the sagging roof with one hand and motioned for the replacement. Thanks to her secret interest in repair work, Neva handed him the proper tools without being asked, and pretty soon, he had the new one affixed in place.

“You are insanely strong,” she said, wide-eyed.

It was a mistake. His face closed, as if she’d accused him of spying on teenage girls. He muttered a response and headed for the barn. The taut line of his shoulders warned her not to follow.

Shit.
She had the feeling she owed him an apology, but didn’t men always like hearing two things?
You’re so strong
and
wow, you’re so big.
Her experience said this was true.

She sighed. “Apparently not.”

Neva went back inside. Even if he didn’t feel the cold, she did. The kittens were crying, so she collected the three of them and snuggled them into her shirt. Then she dug a book out of her backpack and read until they needed their next feeding. Since he’d done it all night by himself, she didn’t expect him to come back to the house to help—and he didn’t. It wasn’t the lack of aid that bothered her, just the feeling she’d stepped wrong and didn’t know how.

Later, banging on the roof told her he was replacing the worn shingles. He seemed dead serious about making this place nice again. Neva looked around the kitchen, mentally imagining it with a fresh coat of paint and some new curtains. She liked the retro table; it would be fun to get some antique canisters to go with it. But this wasn’t her home.

It was almost dark by the time he came back inside and she’d tended the kittens again. This time, she’d kept them in her lap, on top of the heating pad, while she stroked their tiny bodies with her fingertips. In a few days, their eyes would start to open. Right now they were so tiny and helpless; all they could do was eat, squirm, poop, and sleep.

His shadow fell across the doorway to the parlor. In the kitchen, she’d left the radio on, trying to dispel some of the silence. Neva didn’t look at him because she didn’t know what to say. Her hair fell into her face and she didn’t brush it away. It offered camouflage from his intent regard.

“Sorry,” he said roughly.

“About what?” Petty, but she’d make him talk by feigning ignorance.

“How I bailed on you before. Wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay.” And it was. She could breathe a little easier, just because he’d come in with an apology. Neva didn’t like how much emotional weight he’d acquired, but there was no changing the truth.

“Meatloaf sandwiches okay for dinner?”

“Sure. I think there are still some beans, too.”

How domestic they sounded, as if they were lovers tentatively making up after an unexpected quarrel. The fact that he lived in a proper home added to the illusion, and God, it was dangerous. She couldn’t allow herself to get comfortable here.

Tomorrow, they both had another day off, and she didn’t know how they’d spend the time. An odd, unacceptable flutter started in her stomach.

An idea struck her. It was a way to distract herself from this unwanted attraction, and to repay him for his kindness, and she would not take no for an answer. “I’m going to the hardware store after dinner.”

“If you need something, might have it here.”

Oh, how she wished he hadn’t put it quite like that. Despite her good intentions, her gaze roved his chest and shoulders. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice. He had no awareness of her as a woman, as far as she could tell. Which was good. It would be disastrous if he found her as attractive as she did him.

He used a pan to heat the green beans while she sliced up the meatloaf cold. He put extra ketchup on his sandwich and she enjoyed watching him. He had a small scar on his chin, and the scruff on his cheeks was almost golden, lighter than his hair. Neva tried not to study his mouth—the lower lip was a longer and fuller than the top one, which had a tender little divot—but when he licked them, a shiver went through her. She’d never wanted to kiss anyone quite so much.

No,
she scolded herself.
You can’t. No matter how sweet he is. No matter how strong or how much you wonder what it would take to bring a smile to those eyes.

After dinner, they tidied up together, and it was so normal, so companionable, that it left her aching. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much she missed having another person around. But her nights were silent unless she spent them with Julie and Travis—and she didn’t want to cramp his style all the time.

He laid down the cloth he’d used to wipe the table. “Want me to ride along?”

“Please,” she said.

“Kittens?”

His concern made her feel like the chocolate and marshmallow center of a hot s’more. “Don’t worry about them. They’re warm and full and they’ve been held plenty already today. We’ll be back before they need us again.”

He nodded and followed her out to the car. She didn’t explain until they reached the hardware store. Mandy Wilson, the cashier, noted their arrival, and within ten minutes, she’d be telling everyone she knew that she’d seen Neva and Zeke together again, this time on a Saturday night. She found she didn’t care. Let them talk.

She chose three different cards from a wall display. “Which do you like?”

His look said he didn’t understand why she wanted his opinion on home décor. “I’m going to help you paint,” she explained. “You said the farm needs sprucing up. Since I’m imposing on you, I need to pay for my room and board.”

She knew very well he wouldn’t accept rent, though he could use the money. But maybe this, he would allow. Neva held her breath, belatedly worried he might take it the wrong way. She was braced to explain herself, why she’d thought it was a good idea, something she could offer.

“This,” he said, pointing to a lemon yellow.

Her breath went out in a relieved sigh. “For which room?”

“Kitchen.”

“That’ll be pretty with the cupboards.”