Along Came Trouble(18)

Inside the house, she rooted through the storage closet and wondered what her problem was. Insanely sensitive about that house, Jamie had said. But it wasn’t about the house, really. She just didn’t know where to set boundaries between herself and other people anymore.

Strike that. She didn’t know where to set boundaries between herself and men. Especially this man.

Still, it seemed pretty clear she didn’t need to hold the line at light bulbs.

She went into the garage and came out carrying the bulb and the stepladder. Caleb jumped up. “Let me get that.”

And she did. But her brain had to force her fingers to let go.

“So how was your day?” she asked as he leaned the ladder against the house. She needed the distraction, needed to make this small moment of male home improvement feel unimportant in order to counteract the fact that her armpits were damp with anxious sweat that made very little sense.

This was a light bulb, not the first domino in a chain. Every decision would be hers to make, individually and on her own timeline.

He couldn’t take that away from her. And if he tried—well, then he would deserve to find out how hard she could fight. Right now, he wasn’t her enemy. He was a nice guy offering to change the light bulb over her front porch.

Caleb threw her a lopsided grin as he ascended. “Well, it started off pretty good. I got a new client this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Some rich pop star’s mistress, the way I understand it. And his pampered sister. But here’s the trouble, see?” He looked down at her, and just being the focus of his dark-brown gaze made her feel interesting. “Would you hand me the bulb?”

Ellen blinked.

“Over there?” He pointed.

Gangly as an ostrich, she rushed to pick it up from where he’d set it down. When she handed it to him, he laid it on the top step of the ladder and carried on being charming and helpful.

“The sister wouldn’t let me in her house, and the mistress has an eccentric grandmother who cornered me with photo albums and scrapbooks.”

“Nana was there?”

Carly’s eighty-four-year-old grandmother had recovered slowly after breaking her hip last year. She’d decided to move into an assisted living facility in Mount Pleasant, turning her house over to Carly, who’d needed a refuge after her marriage broke up. But as much as Nana relished the social opportunities of her new living situation, she still spent a lot of time over at Carly’s. She claimed she needed time off from all the “old people.”

“Yes, and she was in fine form.” He reached up and unscrewed the burned-out bulb, the movement so effortless, Ellen wanted to cry.

“What, she doesn’t like you?” she asked. “I’d think you’d be exactly Nana’s type.”

“No, Nana loves me. She’s loved me since Carly brought me home in the fourth grade and I ate an entire plate of her chocolate-chip cookies.”

“Her chocolate-chip cookies are awful.”

“I know. But she kept offering them to me, and my mom always says it’s impolite to refuse food at a stranger’s house, so I kept eating them and praying for rescue.”

From four feet above her head, he smiled his dazzling smile. With the color leaching out of the sky, he looked as though he’d been lit from the inside, his teeth whiter and his skin darker than they had been this morning. Phosphorescent, almost, his bright shirt and charcoal slacks an afterimage burned onto her retinas.

He climbed down, picked up the ladder and the broken bulb, and carried them into the garage as if he owned the place.

Ellen gazed into the gathering twilight and focused on breathing.

She’d braced herself for a fight tonight, but the tussle this morning had left her so tired, and he was so much easier to be around than she’d remembered. She hadn’t been ready for this . . . what? This casual rapport. He made her feel safe, and feeling safe worried her.

Paging Dr. Freud.

She sank into her chair and willed herself to relax. It had taken her so long to bring the Dawsons around this afternoon, she’d missed her chance to watch the movie. By the time Henry fell asleep, she’d been ready to hang up her gloves. Couldn’t she just sip her wine and look at the empty front lawn and let him steer for a while? It was nice, sitting on her porch and talking to Caleb. He was good company.

Also, disconcertingly hot, and dangerous to her peace of mind.

And he wanted to put up a fence.