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“What did they say?”
If she had shitty insurance and wouldn’t fix this, I would, after I cracked a few heads. Starting with the guy next door. Now I knew why Mav was focused on destroying the professor who’d stolen Bridget’s hard work and published it as his own. And got her kicked out of MIT.
“They’ll send someone over to take a look and start the process, but I don’t need an adjuster to tell me the house isn’t livable.” She glanced up at the clear sky. “Hopefully it won’t rain before they cover that hole.”
She pointed to the roof where a huge branch had poked through it. A huge skylight could be installed once it was removed. That wasn’t the only hole that would let rain in. Pretty much the side of her house on the second story was wide open.
Rain wasn’t the only thing that could get in. Squirrels, raccoons. Birds. Hell, around here, maybe even a bear. All of them could take up residence.
“Bridget hasn’t stayed here all week since she’s been back,” she continued, meaning her return from Denver, “so I assume she’ll keep staying with Maverick. I can go to a hotel until it’s all fixed–”
“You’ll stay with me,” I told her.
No way was she staying in a hotel. During the hockey season, I stayed in hotels more than in my own bed. It got old real fast. This was a big mess and wasn’t going to be fixed quickly. It could be weeks before she was back in. I didn’t know how long a construction project like this took, but Mav’s James Inn project was behind schedule, and he had a billion-dollar company pushing it to completion.
When I first got here, I was going to stay with Mav, but that was before Bridget. The last thing I wanted was to be in his house when the two of them were most likely fucking on every horizontal–and vertical–surface. So with a quick call to Mav’s assistant, the ever-efficient Bradley, found me a place of my own. A two-month rental right in town. A little old miner’s house that had been overhauled and restored. It was perfect for one. Or two who liked to be on top–or underneath–of each other.
Yeah, Lindy could fucking stay with me.
For the first time since we pulled up she looked my way. Her usually bright gaze looked weary. But no tears. Still…
“Oh sugar. Come here.”
I took her hand and pulled her into me. Hugged her. I’d be lying if I was doing it solely to comfort her. Besides me tucking her hair behind her ear at the grocery store, this was the first time we touched. That I held her. That I felt every soft curve of her body. Got close enough to breathe in her soft scent.
For a moment, she was stiff, then gave over and sagged into me, which was the most incredible thing ever. She let go for me, even if for just these few short moments.
I kissed the top of her head because… how could I not?
“This is a fucking mess, but it’s fixable,” I murmured, hoping I was being reassuring.
She nodded against my chest. “Yeah, I know. The house is turning into a money pit. Last winter it was the hot water heater. After that, I had to replace the toilet in the powder room because it leaked. Then the fridge–”
“The guy next door’s paying for this clusterfuck. Not you. I’m sure your insurance company will get in touch with his to cover it all.”
“Probably.”
Not just probably. Definitely.
“It’s a big house for just you.” I turned my head and looked at the place. Two stories painted white with ivy growing up trellises between the lower windows. Besides the tree in it, the house was well maintained, the yard perfect with mulched flower beds. Not a stray leaf dared blow onto her recently cut grass. Meticulous, just like the owner herself.
“It was my parents’ house. I inherited it.”
I stilled, stroked her hair then gave it a slight tug so she’d look up at me. There, in her blue eyes, was a mix of emotions. She would be a horrible poker player. I saw weariness. Surprise at the slightly controlling touch. And arousal.
Was it how I firmly gripped the back of her neck? Or the pull on her hair? Or being in my arms? I was going to find out. I wanted to know this and everything else about her. While her lips were right fucking there, I wouldn’t have our first kiss be in front of her damaged house with a fire crew milling about.
“What happened to them?” Inherited meant they weren’t alive.
I had lunch with Bridget and my brothers last week and we’d gotten to talking about our fathers. She mentioned hers had died but hadn’t elaborated. She certainly didn’t say anything about her mom being gone, too.
“Car accident when I was twenty-three,” she explained matter-of-factly. “Bridget was with them, driving home from one of those princess shows on ice in Billings. She was in the back seat, asleep. Not a scratch on her.”
Holy fuck. Lindy lost her parents in one go, and almost her sister at the same time. No wonder she wasn’t freaking out about the tree through her house. Worse things had happened to her. She knew true tragedy. Lived through something that wasn’t fixable and could only move on as best one could.
“Oh sugar.” I kissed her head again and held her close. She didn’t resist. We stood there until a fireman approached. He had on bunker pants and boots but skipped the jacket. He was totally ripped. Instead of wondering if Lindy found him attractive, I should be thankful the civil servants of the community were so fit.
Still, telling him to fuck off, that Lindy Beckett was mine, was on the tip of my tongue, but he was doing his job, not proposing.
