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He wanted to reach out and smooth away the stray hair that had slid down across her cheek. He’d lost any right to touch her years ago. “I’m sure.”
Sophie stared for another minute, then nodded. As she turned to go, her limp seemed more pronoun
ced than he’d seen before.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. When she glanced over her shoulder with brows drawn down in confusion, he added, “From the fall.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
Of course. Because she was tougher than he was. Zach couldn’t handle seeing her like that, couldn’t handle the fact that he could’ve killed her in that one, reckless moment.
“One more thing.”
She sighed. “What?”
“Don’t tell anyone about Chelsea’s idea.”
Her hesitation had him worried she wouldn’t agree. Finally she nodded. “I’ll wait to hear from you and your brothers regarding the city’s offer.”
Once she was gone and Zach was left in silence, he glanced around Chelsea’s bedroom. Sinking to the bed, he rested his hands over his knees and dropped his head between his shoulders.
That was the most interaction he’d had one-on-one with Sophie in years. Even though she was gone, her scent lingered and Zach was finding it harder and harder to push her out of his mind. She’d been thrust back into his life in the past few days and he honestly wasn’t sure he was strong enough to keep his distance.
Fortunately, he had enough to keep him occupied and he hoped his personal encounters with Sophie were coming to a close. Between clearing out Chelsea’s apartment, renovating his own home, and now reeling from Chelsea’s bombshell vision, Zach had enough on his plate. Thinking of things that would never be was a waste of time.
What he needed to focus on now was how to break this women-only resort news to Braxton and Liam. Zach nearly laughed. He couldn’t wait to see their faces when he told them they were going to have to start researching massages and facials.
* * *
Zach’s ability to string a sentence together using every cuss word known to man, and some he’d invented himself, was rather impressive. What wasn’t impressive was that he was a damn professional and he couldn’t get the freshly cut ceramic tile to match up perfectly in the corners of his new shower. How the hell was he having issues? This was his livelihood, the one thing he devoted his existence to. The one thing he didn’t screw up.
Renovating, making things new again or starting from scratch, kept him from going insane. Yet now he’d botched the tiles and would need to grab another sheet.
His personal issues were starting to seep into his professional life. Something he couldn’t allow. He had no room for personal anything.
Zach was just about to take his hammer and smash the hell out of everything in that damn bathroom when his newly installed doorbell rang. At least that had turned out like he wanted.
Perhaps he wouldn’t be having such a hard time right now if he wasn’t so distracted by all the turmoil that seemed to keep growing. First the back taxes were looming over their heads, then the city wanted to buy the property that his sister adored and put her entire savings into, and now he’d discovered another layer to Chelsea’s dream.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he headed down the curved, narrow steps to the front door. Darkness had settled in, and he realized he hadn’t turned on any lights downstairs, other than the porch lights, which were on a timer. Obviously it was later than he thought.
Flicking the switch to the new antique chandelier that hung from the high ceiling in the foyer, Zach glanced through the glass panels on the sides of the door. He’d known before looking who’d be waiting on the other side. He resisted the urge to groan, but he wouldn’t hide in his house and cower just because his new neighbor was overly friendly and very flirty. Okay, she was beyond flirty. The woman didn’t know subtle.
Glancing down at his sweat-stained gray T-shirt, he was thankful he hadn’t ripped it off earlier. No way would he ever want to greet this divorcée in skin and denim.
Flicking the lock on the door, Zach eased it open, just wide enough to stand in the opening, making it perfectly clear visitors weren’t welcome.
“Ms. Barkley,” he greeted without a smile.
Blond hair bleached within an inch of its life was piled high on top of her head. Blood-red lips pursed as her overly made-up eyes traveled down his body. Her visual lick did absolutely nothing to turn him on. In fact, always being under the microscope since this woman moved in last month was getting a bit creepy. Were there no other single men in this neighborhood? He knew for a fact that Mr. Mullins across the street was single, even if he was knocking on seventy.
“Call me Sherry,” she reminded him, as she did every time. “I’m really sorry to bother you so late.”
Yeah, she looked so upset about showing up at his door wearing a halter top that left several inches of cleavage all squished together and threatening to spill out. At this time of night did most women have on a fresh layer of bright red lipstick and perfectly teased hair?
“I have a leak in my roof right in my upstairs bedroom. Over my bed.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, sending them to an even higher level. Some men might find her blatant approach sexy. He wasn’t one of those men.
Zach tried not to sigh as he glanced around her at the perfectly clear spring evening, stars twinkling bright, full moon beaming down.
