to awaken at the slightest sound that was out of the ordinary.
He snapped to awareness when he heard a car door close with deliberate softness. Lying rigid, he listened. The digital clock Erin had put at the bedside said 2:33. Anyone coming or going in the middle of the night wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors. Especially if that person was stealing a vehicle.
When the engine started, he knew it was Erin’s Jeep. Shit. He jumped out of bed, reaching the front window just before the dome light went off. In that fraction of an instant, he saw her. While he watched, she reversed, then drove down the driveway. Brake lights flickered before she turned onto the street.
He didn’t welcome the uneasiness he felt as he stared out at the dark yard and dimly lit street. The closest lamp was half a block away. Where was she was going? Wouldn’t she have awakened him if she had some kind of emergency?
His mouth tightened. Why would she? What was he but her charity project, after all?
She might have been restless. Or she’d started her period and gone out for supplies. Or a friend had called and needed her. There were plenty of logical explanations. He was projecting if he thought that whatever ghost haunted her and shadowed her eyes had sent her into the night.
And, damn it, Cole didn’t want to feel any responsibility for another human being. Any real connection. Even so, he knew with icy certainty that he wouldn’t sleep again until she came home.
“YARD WASTE BINS are full.” Stopping at the foot of what would be the porch steps, Erin peeled off her gloves. “The rest will have to wait until Thursday.” Astonished at how much progress Cole had made, she asked, “Did you do this kind of work in prison?”
Kneeling on the porch proper, he’d paused at the sight of her and straightened. For the past hour, the rhythmic sound of his hammer striking nails had begun to remind her of a heart beating.
“No.” He watched her warily.
She knew he didn’t like her asking questions, but this seemed innocuous enough. “Then...how do you know what to do?”
“My father’s a contractor. I worked for him some.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
He didn’t say a word. An eyebrow might have twitched at what was, admittedly, an inane comment.
“Um, did you have jobs while you were serving time?”
He lowered his head.
She waited.
He rolled his shoulders. “Different ones.” Pause. “Machine shop.”
“You mean, you can fix mechanical things, too?”
“Probably.”
“Have you ever done wiring or plumbing?”
“I could do simple jobs. Replace an electrical outlet or a light fixture. Same for plumbing. If you need the house completely rewired or the plumbing replaced, you’d be better off hiring an expert.”
“I don’t think I do.” She hoped. “But my shower drips and plugs are too loose in some of the outlets. Plus, the light in the pantry doesn’t work. I tried different new bulbs.”
“I can take a look.” He moved as if preparing to stand up.
“Not now. There’s no urgency. Just something to get to later.”
He studied her, nodded and, after a decent interval, reached for a nail.
Wham. Wham.
She’d been forgotten.
Except Erin knew that wasn’t true. She suspected Cole was hyperaware, not only of where she was and what she was doing, but also his surroundings in general. She’d seen his head turn before she heard the sound of an approaching car. An elderly neighbor walked her slow-moving pug several times a day. Cole always turned to look. She wondered if his caution would slowly abate, or whether in ten years it had become part of his makeup. Cops were probably the same—although Cole might not like the comparison.
They didn’t exchange another word until their lunch break. After yesterday, she didn’t offer him anything, just went inside, aware that he was heading toward the garage. But as she peeled a carrot, she saw him coming down the stairs from the apartment with a can of pop and what looked like a sandwich. So she carried her plate outside, too.
Most of the porch boards were laid. Cole sat at the top of what would be the steps, his lower legs dangling. His sweat-dampened T-shirt clung to a broad back and shoulders. A screwdriver poked out of a pocket of his jeans, drawing her gaze to his muscular butt. Feeling a little shy, she joined him, seeing him glance at her lunch.
“You don’t eat much,” he said after a minute.
A carrot and a serving of cottage cheese were more than she’d had for a midday meal a month ago. Taking a page from his book, she merely shrugged.
After finishing the cottage cheese, she said, “This porch is going up fast.”
“Long way to go.” The supports were in place, but he hadn’t started on the roof.
It occurred to her that getting heavy sheets of plywood up there wouldn’t be easy. Could they do it, just the two of them?
Cole seemed to be assessing the work still to be done when he said, “Heard you leave last night.”
She’d hoped to be quiet enough that he’d sleep through her departure, but wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t. She chose not to answer.
Now he looked directly at her. “Thought someone might be stealing your car.”
Of course, that was exactly what would leap to mind, given his background. Had he stolen cars? That was a more bearable possibility than some she’d considered, although a ten-year sentence for car theft seemed extreme.
“Or you’d had an emergency,” he added.
Astonished, Erin studied him in profile. Had he been worried about her? How unexpected. Unless, she reminded herself, he’d been concerned about his employment and not her personally.
“I just went for a drive.” She would have been ticketed if the state patrolman had caught her. She’d managed to turn off the highway and quickly disappear down a driveway leading to a rural property, killing her engine and headlights before the patrol car went by. Stomach clenched, she’d driven home at a sedate pace. Her need to speed, to lure death, warred with the law-abiding good girl still in her. Unwilling to talk about what she barely understood, she scooted back from the edge of the porch, stood and went into the house, where she dropped her half-eaten carrot in the trash.
Her emotional health was nothing to brag about, but she was getting better. Wasn’t she?
* * *
BEING NOSY HAD gone over about as well as it would have in the
