and open the door, she wished she could make him understand that he’d already done so much more than she’d ever expected.
“Mule-headed male,” she muttered as the door closed behind him.
The door opened again. “I heard that,” Trent informed her. And then closed the door behind him with a snap.
Annie was startled into a laugh. Had she actually seen a glint of amusement in Trent’s usually grim blue eyes? Had that been a wry smile playing around the corners of his hard, straight mouth?
Her laughter fading, she groaned and rubbed her temples. She really didn’t want to make Trent smile. He had a strong enough effect on her when he was being rude and irritable.
IT TOOK Trent less than twenty minutes to replace the screw on Annie’s old-fashioned wooden medicine-cabinet door and reattach a round ceramic knob. The cabinet needed to be stripped, sanded and repainted, he noted. Actually, the whole place needed painting, inside and out. With spring weather just setting in, it was a good time to get started on that project. He’d have to figure out a way to ask Annie if she wanted to invest in paint.
He found himself chuckling softly as he moved into the living room to check the problem window she’d told him about. He was remembering her disgruntled summation of his character when he’d refused to take the day off. “Mule-headed male,” she’d called him.
His amusement faded when he considered why she’d been so determined to talk him out of working today. She’d obviously noticed that he was having one of his bad days—he’d woken up stiff and achy that morning, his back muscles in spasms—but he was still perfectly capable of putting in a couple of hours at her place.
He’d given their service-swapping arrangement a couple more weeks, but every time he thought about ending it, he found himself making excuses to prolong it. He’d tried to convince himself that he’d grown spoiled to having his house cleaned and his laundry done. He’d thought of all the repairs still waiting to be done on Annie’s house, and he’d told himself he was being noble and generous to help her out.
But the truth was, he thought as he studied the sticking window casing, he had needed this more than Annie did. From his initial evaluation of her house to the prioritizing and implementing of repairs, he had secretly relished the sense of purpose he’d found since he’d begun this project. For two mornings a week, he’d had a reason to get out of bed. Something to do besides sit alone in his house and brood about the loss of his dreams. Dreams he had shattered himself through his own recklessness.
Scowling, he gripped the window handles in both hands and jerked upward. Pain body-slammed him from behind, making him stagger and then go down to his knees. Breaking into a sick sweat, he tried to stand—only to be brought down again.
Maybe he would just stay right where he was for a little while, he thought grimly, lowering himself carefully to the floor and letting the waves of pain wash over him.
ANNIE USUALLY CLEANED another house on Friday after leaving Trent’s place, but because her client had canceled that day, she found herself with several free hours. She made a stop by Honoria’s only music store, placed an order for some piano-teaching supplies, then headed home for what she anticipated would be a rare few hours of leisure.
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