Pen Pal(7)

“Had an opening in the schedule,” he says without a trace of warmth. “Thought I’d drop by. If this is a bad time—”

“No, no, this is great,” I interrupt, swinging the door open wider. “Please, come in.”

He steps across the threshold. Instantly, the foyer feels smaller. I shut the door behind him and gesture toward the kitchen.

“I’ll show you where the leaks are, if you want to start there?”

He answers with a wordless nod.

I feel as if a rabid wolf is following behind me as we make our way into the kitchen. No, not a wolf. Something bigger and even more dangerous. A gorilla, maybe. Or a lion.

“So that’s where the water’s coming in,” I say, pointing to the kitchen ceiling. “I had a handyman out to look at the electrical. He also looked at the roof and said something about the deck needing to be cut out and replaced near the turret.”

Aidan doesn’t look at the ceiling. His cool, steady gaze remains fixed on me.

“You get the electrical fixed?”

“No. Not really.”

“Which is it? No or not really?”

He doesn’t smile when he says it. There’s no hint of playfulness in his tone or expression.

He isn’t hostile exactly, it’s just that I’m getting the impression he’d rather be anywhere else on earth than here.

I take a moment to answer, because I’m not sure if I even want to have this guy in my house. I’m finding him more and more irritating with every passing second.

“The handyman said he couldn’t find any problems with the wiring, but I’m still having issues.”

Aidan grunts. “I’ll take a look at it.”

“You do electrical, too?”

His dark eyes meet mine. “I do everything.”

He says it flatly, as if I’ve deeply insulted his manhood. As if he can’t believe that I couldn’t tell just by looking at him that he’s Captain Capable.

I wish someone else were here so I could turn and ask a reasonable person what they think Aidan’s problem is, but since I’m alone, I’ll have to figure it out by myself.

“Do you do impressions of a person who knows how to be polite? That might come in handy from time to time. Like right now, for instance.”

His brows draw down over his eyes. “You want your house fixed or you want to have a tea party, lady?”

His rude tone makes my hackles go up. “I don’t have tea parties with wild animals. And yes, I’d like my house fixed, but I don’t pay people to be mean to me. Also, my name is Kayla. In case you haven’t noticed, women are actual individuals. So are you going to act like a human being now or are you leaving?”

He bites back whatever insult he’s got brewing and glowers at me. Then he looks up at the stains on the ceiling and exhales a slow breath.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice gruff. “It’s been a bad couple of weeks.”

When he swallows and a muscle in his jaw clenches, I feel like a jerk.

It’s easy to forget that everybody else has problems when you’re so caught up in your own.

I say softly, “Yeah, I get that.”

He glances at me. Warily, as if he’s not sure if I’m about to give him a smack or not, which makes me feel worse.

“Listen, let’s start over.” I stick out my hand. “Hi. I’m Kayla Reece.”

He looks at my hand. Something approximating a smile lifts the corners of his mouth, but disappears before it commits to staying.

He takes my hand and shakes it solemnly. “Nice to meet you, Kayla. Aidan Leighrite.”

His hand is huge, rough, and warm. Like the rest of him, except for the warm part.

I smile and drop his hand. “Okay. Now that all that’s out of the way, will you please help me with my roof? I’m desperate.”

He tilts his head and considers me. “You always get over stuff so quickly?”

An image of Michael’s casket being slowly lowered into the ground flashes through my mind. My smile dies. A lump forms in my throat. I say tightly, “No.”

Aidan’s gaze sharpens. I can’t stand to meet his piercing stare. Suddenly, I just need to be alone. I can already feel the hot prick of tears welling in my eyes.

Backing up a step, I cross my arms over my chest and say, “The roof access is in the master bedroom closet. Upstairs, first door on the right. I’ll let you take a look around. Please excuse me.”

I turn and leave him standing in the middle of my kitchen.

I barely make it into my office and get the door closed behind me before I burst into tears.





5





Dear Dante,

I don’t have any money, so go pick on someone else if that’s what you’re after. Seriously, I’m broke.

Who are you? What do you want? Why did you contact me? You said you know me, but you’re wrong. I don’t know anyone with your name, much less anyone in prison.

I’m not judging you, so you know. But I’d like to know what you did to get yourself there.

Actually, forget it. I’m only writing now to ask you to stop contacting me. If you send another letter, I’ll give it to my detective friend and let him deal with you.

Sincerely,