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Please don’t let the car catch fire.
Mercifully the phone was still working and she dialed 911 and then made one more call.
The moment she heard her mother’s voice, it felt like coming home.
Emotion filled her throat, tears filled her eyes and suddenly she was a child again.
“Mom.” She could barely get the words out. “Help me.”
28
Lauren
Test: to put under severe strain
“Lauren?” Scott’s voice came from the kitchen, where he’d been working all week. “I need to show you something.”
Lauren carried on painting the wall. She’d postponed working on the Sail Loft, hoping that Scott would have finished before she started but in the end she’d had no choice. The Captain’s House was all but done and they needed somewhere to live. Unless she wanted to share living space with chipped paint, she needed to get to work.
She’d started at the top with her mother’s studio, a whole floor away from Scott. Not that it made much difference, because she was constantly aware of him. The knowledge that he was a mere turn of the stairs away from her made her skin tingle and her heart beat faster. And every time she felt that heady rush of desire, she also felt guilt.
To stop herself thinking about him, she focused her attention on the work she was doing.
Her plan for the Sail Loft was to keep it simple, in keeping with the casual beachfront setting.
She’d contemplated using a fashionable gray on the walls, but in the end had opted for a soft white that reflected the intensity of the beach light. She’d painted the wide planks on the floor white, too, and had already found a blue-and-white-striped rug in a thrift shop. The place felt calming. Relaxing.
“Lauren?”
She closed her eyes. The place would never be relaxing while Scott was working in it, and yet she also found herself dreading the moment he finished because then he’d be gone.
“I’ll be there in a minute. If I stop now, I’ll have streaks.”
“That’s today’s excuse?” His voice was closer this time and she glanced over her shoulder.
“Excuse me?”
He was leaning against the door frame. His eyes were hooded and watchful, but there was a hint of a smile on his mouth that told her he knew exactly how she was feeling.
He claimed he wasn’t good at intimacy and yet every look and every word that passed between them was threaded with meaning.
“I worked here for two weeks before you showed up at all.”
She put the brush down. “I was busy—”
“And then when you did show up, you made sure you were never in the same room as me.”
“We’re working on different things. You’re fixing up the kitchen.” And the kitchen was the smallest room in the house, which was another reason she’d been avoiding it.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror she’d hung on one of the walls. Instead of wearing her oldest clothes, she’d chosen jeans that skimmed her hips and a tailored shirt that nipped in slightly at the waist. Common sense might have abandoned her but it seemed vanity hadn’t.
“Did I do this to you?” His voice was rough. “Is it my fault?”
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“Do what?”
“Make you so cautious and careful you no longer dare be who you are.”
