Page 8 of Suddenly Yours

I walked back into my bedroom and pulled out the thickest sweats I could find. I had just put them on when there was a knock on my door.

I grabbed my hairbrush and combed through my knotted hair as I made my way to open the door.

“You forgot, didn’t you.” Cade was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes narrowed as he ran his gaze over my disheveled appearance.

“No,” I said, lifting my chin as I tried to untangle my hair.

He smiled and then laughed. “Right, you hate cold showers.” He pointed at me. “You. Forgot,” he said, punctuating each word.

“No. I. Didn’t,” I replied in the same manner.

He shook his head and took a deep breath. “What am I going to do with you?” He stepped past me, pausing to pick up a large box that was sitting on the landing beside him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, moving aside.

“Installing your new water heater.” His eyebrows rose slightly. “The one that you forgot I was coming by to install tonight.” The side of his lips curved up, and I wanted to smack him with my hairbrush. Instead, I turned away and decided my time was better spent making dinner than arguing with him.

He disappeared down the hallway. His chuckle annoyed me, but I ignored it and got busy making some fresh salmon I had purchased the day before after work.

Chapter Three

Cade

I finished securing the last bolt on the tankless water heater and flipped on the power. Seconds later there was a quiet steady hum, exactly how it should be. I stood back and wiped my hands on the sides of my jeans, satisfaction settling warm and familiar in my chest. I liked work that made sense. Pipes, wiring, wood—those things behaved the way they were supposed to. Not like people. People came with expectations.

And Missy… she came with a whole different kind of chaos. Always had. Always would. Oddly, that was why she and I got along so great. Her chaos was predictable, if that made any sense.

I packed up my tools and headed back down the hallway, where the smell hit me—warm, buttery, citrusy. Salmon with lemon and herbs, I’d wager. Real food. Not the frozen crap I usually threw into my oven at home when I remembered to eat.

I found her in the tiny kitchen plating the salmon and roasted vegetables like it was nothing, like this was normal, like people cooked actual dinners for themselves every night. I leaned against the doorframe.

“You cooked enough for two?” I asked.

She didn’t turn around, but I heard the smile in her voice. “Maybe. Depends on how annoying you are.”

I huffed out a laugh. “So… a plate for me?”

She jerked her head for me to sit at the dining table. “Sit. Before I change my mind.”

I dropped into the chair at the small table that was pushed up against the wall, still damp with sweat from the installation. I knew that the window looked out over the side yard and the street below, but it was dark now. I watched her move around her kitchen. Even with her hair still wet from that cold shower and her black sweats swallowing her whole, she looked… peaceful. Settled. Like she belonged here.

I didn’t feel that way anywhere. Not yet.

She set a plate in front of me, and my stomach growled so loudly that she laughed.

“Wow, okay,” she said. “I guess you didn’t eat lunch.”

“I had lunch,” I said defensively. I thought back on the cold turkey sandwich and the bag of stale chips I had washed down with a warm soda.

“What did you have?”

I hesitated. I knew better than tell her the truth. She always judged me for what I put in my body.

She lifted a brow. So I lied.

“Leftover lasagna,” I muttered.

Her nose wrinkled, the look she always gave me when she knew I was lying. How in the hell did she always know? “Cade.”