Page 16 of Hearts on the Mend

“You love saving the day.”

“I jump out of planes for a living.”

This doesn’t earn the laugh it usually does.

“The girl’s a single mom, doesn’t have the cash to pay for an emergency call from an HVAC company.”

“I’ll pay for it,” I offer.

Mom straightens, but she still doesn’t look at me. “Sure it’s scary being in an old house by yourself with just your kid.”

“You did it all the time.” Between the restaurant and the lobster boat, my father was gone a lot.

“This house isn’t old and scary.”

I fold my arms. “If you want me to go, guys, just tell me. Don’t ask me to volunteer if it’s not a choice.”

“Get your ass in the truck, and head over there. I’ll tell Ruth. It’ll make her feel better. Think she’s feeling guilty that she even got her niece into this mess.”

I walk past the kitchen, past the second beer I wanted desperately, and throw on my coat instead, ignoring the searing tug across my shoulders.

“Be home later,” I call out.

But my parents are already ribbing each other over another Jeopardy answer, the TV blaring.

I’m about to knock when Cassie opens the door with her finger pressed to her lips, her beautiful green eyes wide, as though she’s surprised to see me.

“Hi,” I say, my boots slipping on the steps. “You need some sand on these before you break your neck.”

“Ruby’s finally asleep. Be quiet.” She gestures for me to come in, then spins. “Thanks for coming.”

I nod stiffly, stuffing my hands into my jeans. “Not sure how much help I’ll be.”

“Wow, such confidence. Sexy.”

I catch myself before a grin gets loose and settle for an arched brow.

Cassie scoffs. When she turns, the hall light makes her diamond nose stud sparkle, and I shove aside the fact that I’m relieved to see her. I curl my fingers against the ache to cup her face and kiss her. At least then I’d be in control.

She reaches back and slips her hand into mine, steering us away from the middle of the floor. “Loose floorboard.”

I flex my fist as soon as she lets go, torn between remembering how it feels to touch her and needing to forget. We were never supposed to have more. And now I’m in her house, in my old hometown.

“Ruby hates me and the house.”

We step into the kitchen, the cabinets all wide open, a space heater throwing heat, but not enough for the jigsaw puzzle of plumbing crammed into the corner of the house.

“This isn’t enough to thaw all the pipes in this part of the house,” I say, moving the space heater closer. I bend, bracing one hand above me on the edge of the sink as I examine the pipes beneath the kitchen sink. The skin along my back burns at the uncomfortable pull. “External walls are extra cold, and the horsehair is shit for insulation.”

“I know.” She rubs at her brow, hiding behind her hand.

A few wild strands of pink still curl loose from beneath her deep-auburn hair, and I remember how they looked wrapped around my fist the last time I had her under me. My dick twitches at the memory, but this isn’t the time.

“I was stupid and hired the first guy. He told me he’d get started right away, would make sure the chimney passes inspection so I could get the woodstove up and running.”

“Not stupid,” I say. “Have a hair dryer or a heating pad?”

“Both.”