Page 10 of Suddenly Yours

“It’s not you,” she agreed with a nod. “Nor am I made for slapping on my pointe shoes and leotards and prancing on stage or taking over and working with Max like they wanted me to.”

He remembered just how appealing she’d looked in leotards. She had the body for it, always had, but she’d never had the heart for dance.

“Exactly. Although, I do miss seeing you in those tights.” I winked at her and saw her eyes avoid mine. I loved teasing her. Making her blush. Watching her cheeks turn a light shade of pink always warmed me for some reason.

My parents wanted the Fortune 500 legacy for a son. I wanted to build things with my hands. Fix things. Create something that didn’t require pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I was a disappointment as the only child they had.

“They are disappointed,” I said. “Always will be.”

She didn’t answer right away. She looked at me with this quiet understanding that I felt down to my bones.

“So we match,” she said lightly. “Two disappointments with a love for old buildings and sugary desserts.”

I laughed, and something eased inside me. “Always. Here’s to being disappointments.” I held up my wine glass, and she tapped it with her own. “Together,” we added before taking a sip.

For a moment, neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke.

Her kitchen was warm, the soft light catching in her still-damp hair, the scent of lemon and dill making the whole apartment feel… inviting. Alive.

The kind of place I could get used to. I instantly wished I didn’t have to go home to a cold, dark, and empty house. But I had work to do if that was going to change. Tonight’s plan was to finish pulling out the carpet on the second staircase and see what sort of mess was underneath.

I pushed back from the table a little. “Thanks for dinner.”

She tried to wave me off. “You installed the new water heater so I can have a hot shower, so I owe you more than salmon.”

“Oh, you definitely owe me,” I teased. “But Crystal and Rory did pay me for the job.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

And damn it if I didn’t want to see what it looked like when she wasn’t trying to hide it.

I stood from the table before I did something stupid, like reach across it and brush her hair off her cheek just to feel it between my fingertips. I picked up my tool bag and slung it over my shoulder.

“Enjoy your hot shower,” I said, backing toward the door.

“You too,” she said and instantly blushed again. Damn. I backed up until my shoulders hit the door as she laughed nervously. “I mean, have a good night.”

I nodded my head and grinned. “Night.”

I left before I could convince myself to stay longer.

The cool night air hit me on the landing and cleared my head. This was Missy. My best friend. The one person on this stupid planet I could trust and depend on. The one who knew all my secrets. All my darkness. All my dreams. And had never doubted me. Not once.

I hadn’t expected dinner. I hadn’t expected… any of what had gone on between us. What the hell was that anyway?

I’d flirted with a lot of women before. This was… different. It felt right.

I walked down the stairs, boots clunking against the old wood, and headed the few blocks home. Since it was so close, I hadn’t even driven my truck there. I liked the small town. Having come from city life, being in Silver Cove was like breathing for the first time.

My house sat at the end of the street, tucked behind the tall maple trees that lined the sidewalk. Even in the dim porch light, it still looked like a postcard someone had left out in the rain too long—faded, weather-worn, and stubbornly hanging on. I loved it. The wraparound porch creaked under my steps, the boards shifting the way they always did, like an old dog lifting its head when you came home late.

Damn, now I wanted a dog. Later. After I finished fixing the place up.

Come summer, my crew and I would spend the warmer days sanding and painting the exterior. Until then, it was what it was. I planned on putting a new roof on her too. Something that matched the current shingles.

Inside, the place smelled like sawdust, old plaster, and whatever candle I’d last burned to trick myself into believing I lived like a normal person. The house was quiet, too quiet, and dark, except for the single lamp that I’d left on in the foyer. The hardwood floors on the first level were already stripped and waiting for stain, wide planks with a pattern you couldn’t find in modern lumber.

The entryway had unique tiles with patterns I hoped to repeat in some of the bathrooms. They’d been hidden under laminate for God knew how many years, but I’d brought them back inch by inch.