out of alive.
If he even got out at all.
Chapter Two
The longer Roxie trailed Noah through the house, batting away the pheromones like vines in a jungle, the easier it became to see why the man had to fight ‘em off with sticks. Not that he’d ever seemed to fight too hard. His reputation was well documented. But holy moly, the dude exuded sexual confidence by the truckload. As opposed to, say, herself, who did well to summon up enough to fill a Red Rider Wagon. On a good day.
Then she mentally smacked herself for giving in to the woe-is-me’s, because nobody knew better than she that the road to hell was paved in self-pity. And, um, yearnings. Reciprocated or otherwise. Especially for a man she’d likened to gardening equipment.
Anyway.
“Wow. You weren’t whistling Dixie about the condition,” Noah said, practically leering at the peeling wallpaper. The worn wood floor. The disintegrating window sills—ohmigod, the dude looked practically preorgasmic as he fished a penknife out of his back pocket and tested a weak spot in a sill in the living room. Years of neglect eventually took their toll.
In more ways than one, Roxie thought, savoring the last bit of her cherry-chocolate pop as she tossed the bare stick in a nearby trash can. “How bad is it?”
Noah flashed her a brief smile probably meant to be reassuring. “Fortunately, most of the it seems to be more cosmetic than structural.” Now frowning at the sill, he gouged a little deeper. “I mean, this is pretty much rotted out, but…no signs of termites. Not yet, at least.” A stiff breeze elbowed inside the leaking windows, nudging the ugly, heavy drapes. “Windows really need to replaced, though.”
“You can do that?”
“Yep. Anything except electrical and plumbing. That, we hire out.” He glanced around, frowning. “Sad, though. Charley letting the house get this bad.”
Out of the blue, a sledgehammer of emotions threatened to demolish the “everything’s okay” veneer she so carefully maintained. “He didn’t mean to. Basically, he’s fine, of course, but his arthritis gets to him more often than he’d like to admit. Then Mae got sick and he became her caregiver….” First one, then another, renegade tear slipped out, making her mad.
“He could’ve asked for help anytime,” Noah said quietly, discreetly looking elsewhere as he snapped shut the knife and slipped it back into his pocket. “My folks, especially—they’d've been more than happy to lend a hand. If they’d known.”
Swiping at her cheeks, Roxanne snorted. “Considering neither Charley nor Mae said anything to me, this is not a surprise.”
Noah’s gaze swung back to hers. “You didn’t know your aunt was sick?”
“Not for a long time, no. Although, maybe if I’d shown my face, or even called more often, I might have.”
“You think they would’ve told you if you had?”
Her mouth pulled tight. “Doubtful.”
“Then stop beating yourself up,” he said, and she thought, And you, stop being nice. A brief shadow darkened his eyes. “My folks don’t tell us squat, either. And all four of us are right here in town. In fact, a few years back my brothers and I figured out they were in the middle of a financial crisis they didn’t want to ‘burden’ us about. Had to read ‘em the riot act before they finally fessed up.” He half smiled. “Keeping the truth from the ‘kids’ is what adults do.”
A bit more of the veneer curled away, letting in a surprisingly refreshing breeze. “I guess.” She sighed out. “I mean, even when I came home for Thanksgiving a couple of years ago and could sense something was off, that Charley was being more solicitous toward Mae than usual—and that was going some—they both denied it. I finally browbeat him into telling me what was really going on—” she swallowed back another threat of tears “—but whenever I suggested taking a leave of absence, or even coming for the weekends to help out, he refused.” A humorless laugh pushed from her throat. “Very emphatically.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way…but Dad says Charley’s known for being a little, ah, on the stubborn side.”
“A little?” She chuckled. “Why do you think it took so long before he’d let me go through Mae’s things? Or even think about fixing up the house? Although, considering it had only been the two of them for so much of their marriage, I honestly think they simply didn’t want anything or anybody coming between them, even at the end. Especially at the end.”
After a moment’s unsettling scrutiny, Noah squatted in front of a worn spot on the flooring. “And that made you feel useless as hell, right?”
“Pretty much, yeah. But how—?”
“Like I said, I’ve been there.” He stood, his fingers crammed into his front pockets, watching her, like…like he got her. And how ridiculous was that? He didn’t even know her, for heaven’s sake. The logic of which didn’t even slow down the tremor zapping right through her. Well, hell.
“Maybe I should’ve been pushier, too,” Roxie said, thinking she’d take remorse over this tremor business any day. “By the time your mother called me, Mae was nearly gone. And even then, even though Charley obviously couldn’t handle things by himself that last week, I still felt in the way.” She backed out of Noah’s path as he moved into the dining room, rapping his knuckles once on Mae’s prized cherrywood dining table before crossing to the bay window, a DIY project that hadn’t exactly stood the test of time. “Like I was infringing on their privacy.”
“Must be scary, loving somebody that much,” he said to the window, and she had the eerie feeling hers wasn’t the only veneer peeling away that day.
“Yes, it is,” she said carefully, although her younger self probably wouldn’t have agreed with him, when she still clung to the delusion that bad things happened to other people. “Then again, maybe some people find it comforting. Knowing someone’s there for you, no matter what? A lot less scary than the alternative, I’d say.”
Noah craned his neck to look up at her, a frown pushing together his brows.
“Sorry,” she muttered, feeling her face heat. Again. “Not sure how things got so serious. Especially for your average estimate walk-through.”
Getting to his feet, Noah’s crooked grin banished the heaviness in the room like the sun burning off a fog, sending Roxie’s heart careening into her rib cage. “Oh, I think average went out the window right around the time you compared me to a weed-whacker. Besides…this is a small town. And your aunt and uncle were friends with my folks for years. So no way is this going to be your standard contractor/client relationship.” He paused, looking as if he was trying to decide what to say next. “Mom and Dad’ve mentioned more than once how concerned they are about Charley.”
Roxie smirked. “That he’s turned into a hermit since Mae’s death, you mean?”
“‘Closed off’ was the term I believe Mom used.”
“Whatever. Again, I wasn’t around to see what was happening. Not that I could have been.” She sighed. “Or he would have let me. He tolerated my presence for a week after the funeral,
