Kim Watters - Home Sweet Home

“Good idea.” Her voice shook despite her attempt to act normal.

She grabbed for the pizza box the same time Cole scooped up the Styrofoam container. Stunned, Abby watched him wedge the container of Ranch dressing inside with the remaining chicken wings, dump the bones from one china plate to the other, and then stack the plates on top of each other. Cole must have seen her mouth drop open even though she tried to cover it with a yawn.

Shrugging, his lips twisted into a half grin. “What? I was raised to do my share.”

Her mother had obviously been hanging out with the wrong men during Abby’s childhood. Abby followed Cole into the kitchen, taking in the breadth of his shoulders underneath his pale blue collared shirt. She hadn’t paid attention earlier. She sure did now. Her mouth went dry. Somehow she managed to place the leftover pizza in the box on the counter but not before their shoulders grazed. The instant surge of awareness kicked her heartbeat into another rhythm. Heat colored Abby’s cheeks.

“Where did you put the garbage can?” Cole stepped to the side and held up the plate with the chicken bones.

The not-so-spacious area seemed to grow smaller the longer he remained. “Under the sink.”

Instead of looking at Cole, or more specifically the light sprinkling of hair on his long, lean fingers, as they held the plates, Abby stared at the kitchen with new eyes. The room would be the last place she fixed up because guests wouldn’t be allowed inside, but it would be nice to have new amenities like a dishwasher and a refrigerator with an ice and water dispenser. All luxuries she’d grown up without and cost money she didn’t have. A new stove would be a good idea, too, if she could figure out how to use one to do more than the basic stuff.

Abby shook her head to dispel the images of fires and other cooking disasters. She had to learn how to make blueberry scones and other tasty treats to tempt her guests and make them happy. She’d promised her first customers. Of course, to begin with, she had to find the recipe.

“This will just take a moment. I’ll meet you back in the dining room when I’m done.”

Cole searched her expression as he put the two dishes in the sink and finally left the room, giving Abby a moment to breathe before putting the leftovers away. Turning on the hot water faucet, she washed the plates and wished she could wash away his imprint as easily as she did the crumbs.

Disappointment and exhaustion filled her. Turning on the tap again to rinse off the dishes, Abby watched the water spill over her hands and shoot out in different directions. Unlike her emotions, the water represented a release she dared not show. He was just like everyone else in her clichéd life. Here today, gone tomorrow. Cole was simply her contractor, not a prince in one of the fairy tales her mother used to read her. She’d best remember that before she made a fool of herself.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Her spine stiffened, and she shut off the tap before reaching for the dish towel on the counter. She spied Cole’s reflection in the window above the sink as he stood in the doorway and strangled the towel she’d picked up to dry her hands.

“Abby, I want to show you something.”

“No problem. I’ll be right there.”

When Abby finally returned to the dining room a minute later, Cole stood on one of the wooden chairs. Balancing his weight on the edges, he lifted his hands to the ceiling and knocked on the drywall. Hollow, just as he thought it would be.

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