Page 32

My crew greeted me with abuse only people who’d worked together for years could manage.

“Nice of you to join us,” Hank called from the scaffolding. “Thought maybe you’d decided to become a banker or something.”

“Got held up.”

“By the neighbor?” This from Trent, my foreman and the biggest gossip in Tennessee. “Heard she bought the Henley place.”

Oh my fucking god. Did every single soul in town know about Sam already?

“We’re taking the job,” I said, which shut everyone up.

“The Henley place?” Hank nearly fell off the scaffolding. “That’s a complete rebuild.”

“It’s a renovation. We’re doing the small fixes first to make it livable.”

“It’s a disaster.”

“It’s a job.” I grabbed my tools, ready to end the discussion. “We’ll start next week after we wrap up here.”

The crew exchanged looks but knew better than to push when I used that tone. I spent the rest of the day installing drywall and absolutely not thinking about Sam. Or the PI watching her house. Or how she’d gone still when we were close in that hallway. I wasn’t thinking about any of it.

I thought about all of it.

That night, after Noa was in bed and the house was quiet, my phone buzzed. Unknown number that I recognized immediately.

Sam: “Thank you for today. For the house stuff and for the car thing.”

I stared at the message for longer than any reasonable person would. Typed four different responses. Deleted them all because they seemed too eager.

Finally settled on: “Anytime. Locks still good?”

Professional concern. Neighborly. Nothing more.

Her response came quickly: “Locks are good.”

I set the phone down. Picked it up. Set it down again. Typed “Good night” and deleted it. Typed “Let me know if that car comes back” and hit send before I could overthink it.

She replied with a thumbs up emoji.

A thumbs up. I was thirty-three years old and staring at a thumbs up emoji like it held the secrets of the universe.

“Was that the lady?” Noa appeared in the doorway, dragging her favorite stuffed dinosaur.

“Go to bed.”

“You’re smiling, Dad.”

Was I? I schooled my face into something more neutral. “Bed. Now.”

“I’m glad you like her,” she said, padding back to her room. “I like her too. She seems sad but in a way that might get better. She told me.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

I sat at the kitchen counter for another hour, definitely not smiling at my phone. Definitely not thinking about sad women.

10

— • —