She glanced around the dark, cavernous space.He’d removed the carpet and cleared out the debris, so the place looked even more bare bones than before.There was nothing in the kitchen or living room.No light fixtures, no cabinets, no appliances, no furniture.She felt a stab of guilt for usurping him.
He tugged off his hat and ran a hand through his sweaty hair.His T-shirt was damp, his body fragrant in the warm, still air.He smelled like those sheets—clean, male, elemental.Another shiver of longing arced through her.
She swallowed hard, unsure of herself.He seemed to be waiting for her to demonstrate.She returned to the front porch, where she could see Emily napping through the screen door.Paul tossed his hat aside and joined her.
“It’s like this,” she said, lifting her arm in a practiced motion.
He tried it, and his breath hitched as he reached the sore spot.She stepped forward to place a hand on his elbow.She helped him complete the exercise ten times.He must have felt some relief from the action, because he didn’t argue when she walked him through a series of similar movements.They stood close together, with her guiding him.The only sound was her murmured instructions, and their mingled breaths.
She moved to stand behind him with her hand on his shoulder.Her breasts brushed the back of his arm.It was incidental contact, but she adjusted her position to give herself space.Even so, he pulled away, cutting the session short.
“Thanks,” he said gruffly.“It feels better.”
“Sure.”
His boots made a scuffing sound on the porch.“I was wrong about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“When we first met, I thought you were reckless about safety.You stayed in your car out of pure stubbornness instead of going to the campground.You fell asleep on the dock while Emily was playing.”
“I didn’t fall asleep.”
“I realize that now,” he said.“And I know you were keeping an eye on Emily yesterday.After I thought about it, I remembered you glancing over to check on her.You’d been watching her the whole time.You’re always aware of her.”
Vanessa appreciated his acknowledgment.As a mother, she was never off duty.
“I’m the one who got carried away and forgot she was there.”
“I got carried away, too.”
He studied her face in silence.
“I shouldn’t have accused you of flying off the handle,” she said, owning up to her part in the argument.“I’m sensitive to criticism of my parenting, maybe because I’ve been doing it on my own for so long.It’s not easy, and I’m far from perfect, but I don’t want to be judged by anyone who hasn’t walked a mile in my shoes.”
“That’s fair,” he said simply.
“Truce?”
“Truce,” he agreed.
While she lingered on the porch, surprised by their solemn exchange, he returned to his truck and grabbed a square package.He thrust it toward her.“I forgot to change the sheets,” he said in a gruff voice.
“They smell like you.Like soap and eucalyptus.”
His brows rose at her comment.She flushed, aware that she’d just admitting to sniffing the bedding.She hoped he couldn’t sense her desire to strip naked and rub herself against those sheets in an attempt to feel close to him.
“Hang on a sec,” she said.She went inside, noting that Emily was still asleep.She set the sheets down on the couch and retrieved his stack of clothes.She took them out to him.“Here.They’re clean.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
She gave an awkward shrug.“You can use the washing machine anytime you want.We might as well share.”
His gaze darkened as if she’d offered to share the bed.
She cleared her throat and moved on.“There’s food in the fridge.”
“Yes.”
