Page 29 of Oops I Fell For The Electrician Next Door

“The reservation can end early. My company needs me somewhere else.”

Three days. I thought I had five more weeks to decide whether this was real, whether I could trust it, whether Marc wanted Eight Pines or only the woman he found here. Now I have three days, and one of them is nearly over.

“Where?” I ask.

“That depends on which position I accept.”

I pull my hand from his and wrap both arms around myself. “You need to make that decision without me.”

“Why?”

“Because you barely know me.”

“Stop saying that as if the number of days cancels what happened in them.”

“It doesn’t cancel anything. It makes me careful.”

His jaw tightens. “Careful or unavailable?”

The question hits too close. “That isn’t fair.”

“Neither is deciding I’ll resent you for a choice I haven’t made.”

We stand in the warm porch light, close enough to touch and suddenly much farther apart than the lawn between our cabins.

“I need to check the property,” I say.

Marc steps back. Hurt moves across his face before he hides it. “Of course you do.”

He crosses to Cabin Seven without asking whether I want him in my bed tonight.

I let him go.

Chapter Twelve

Marc

The light in Kelsey’s office remains on until after midnight. I know because I sit on the porch of Cabin Seven pretending to read the regional offer while watching her shadow move past the window. The Fletchers settled an hour ago. The lake is fairly still and the electrical repairs are working. The only problem left at Eight Pines is one I cannot fix with a meter and a set of insulated tools.

Kelsey is scared. So am I.

The difference is that she responds by holding tighter to the life she knows, while every habit I have tells me to get in my truck before wanting something makes it difficult to leave.

My phone shows two documents. The national position begins with a failed hospital renovation in Boise, followed by projects in Arizona and California. The western-region role allows me to choose a home base and build crews instead of replacing broken ones. It pays less, although still more than enough. More importantly, it is the job I asked for after spending Christmas alone in a hotel last year.

Kelsey did not create that memory. She did not make me tired of unopened boxes or meals eaten from takeout containers. She only showed me what the alternative might look like.

I close the offers without answering either one.

Saturday morning, I wake before five and find Kelsey already outside. She moves from cabin to cabin carrying a basket of fresh towels. I wonder if she is making work because work has always been something she can control.

I pull on jeans and meet her beside Cabin Five.

“You’re avoiding me,” I say.

She does not pretend otherwise. “I’m giving you room to make your decision.”

“That’s courteous, but the withdrawal seems harsh.”