Kim Watters - Home Sweet Home

She eyed him above the rim of her cup. “So, Mr. Preston, have you taken a good look around you? Now that you’ve seen a little bit of what’s in store for you, isn’t it time to leave?”

Her question troubled him. It was almost as if she expected him to abandon the project. Why? But then again, given the brief history she knew about his defunct company, maybe she knew something he didn’t. He’d made some errors in the past, which continued to haunt him.

“The name’s Cole. What’s your first name?” He sipped the scalding liquid, glad for a way to occupy his hands. Something about the woman intrigued him and despite his reservations about the house, she made him want to linger long after he reached the bottom of his cup.

Hope and another emotion he couldn’t identify descended over the woman’s features. “You really intend to do the work? Even though the people who signed the contract are dead?”

He set the cup on the table, his grip tightening around the yellow ceramic. He needed to do the remodel so he could start over again somewhere else. “I won’t leave until I’m finished.”

“But you’ll leave. They always do.” The plea in her eyes and the softness of her voice chiseled away another piece of the wall surrounding his heart. Even though they just met, he realized that, for the time being, they needed each other.

“Yes. Contractors usually do leave when the job is done.” Cole reached over and placed a calloused hand over her clenched ones. “If you’re looking for something more, I’m not the guy.”

Abby stared at the man, who wore his dark short hair styled in a way that suited him. Shallow laugh lines touched the corners of his eyes and mouth, and his skin had been lightly kissed by the sun. His quarter-zip light blue sweater accented his shoulders and muscular arms, but it was his earthy brown eyes that captivated her and made her want to dig in and sow the seeds of something more permanent.

His touch warmed and chilled her at the same time. Confused, she pulled back her hands and forced them onto her lap. Good going, girl. Push him away. Make him run for the hills. Cole Preston is the answer to what some would call prayers, but to her it had been a simple plea to the universe. Not only could he help her get the house done in time, he could help her be accepted into Dynamite Creek. If she turned him away, the people might do the same to her and then she’d never fit in or find a real home.

“Of course not. I never suggested you were, Mr. Preston.” Abby pulled out her calm facade, something she’d perfected years ago in each new neighborhood, each new school, each time she was ridiculed because of the cheap, discounted chain store clothes she wore.

“Cole. The name’s Cole, Ms. Bancroft. What’s yours again?” When he grinned, tiny dimples appeared.

Her breathing quickened. He affected her on a different level and in a way she didn’t understand in her limited experience with men. “Abby.”

“Abby. That suits you. Short for Abigail?”

“Yes.” The way he said her first name reminded her of liquid velvet. Her heart fluttered. Abby retreated to the coffeemaker to refill her cup. Distance. That’s what she needed. With the crook of an eyebrow or quirk of his lips, the man had the ability to get under her shell.

Turning away from the worn counter, she leaned against it, the edge cutting into her back. Cole had moved from the table and now stood less than three feet from her. An unexplainable intrinsic energy dragged her toward him so she stepped to the side to put more space between them. His nearness plucked at her sanity, pulling it apart one tiny strand at a time until she felt exposed and vulnerable. “How much is this going to cost me?”

“Your grandparents already paid a hefty deposit. Until that’s exhausted, the labor is free.”

“The labor, but not the materials.” Ka-ching. Dollar signs blazed inside her brain. With the entire house needing attention, the paint, the flooring, and whatever else this monstrosity required, the labor would probably be the cheap part.

Abby dragged in a ragged gasp and caught a whiff of Cole’s aftershave. Masculine with a dash of adventure mixed in. Her pulse accelerated. But she didn’t need adventure; she’d had enough of that growing up. Suddenly she didn’t want him in her house or anywhere near her because he was dangerous to her peace of mind. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself falling for another person who had no intention of sticking around in her life.

Indecision clawed at her, tore at her insides. She had to make this work. Her fingernails bit into her palms as she glanced around the room. Morning sunlight filtered in through the window above the sink and highlighted every flaw and blemish in the kitchen. The rest of the house wasn’t any better, but she couldn’t get rid of him. Not now when she had only enough income to survive for two months and guests arriving at the beginning of May that expected a decent place to stay.

“We’ll work something out. When do I start?” His crooked smile sent her pulses on another one of those road trips her mother had been so fond of. “You won’t regret it.”

Abby already did. Suddenly, she wanted off of the emotional roller coaster but it was too late. Despite her earlier resolution, Abby decided she was going to be sorry she let Cole into her house and her life for the next few months.

“May as well start today since you’re here.” Her sigh filled the small area between them, yet when she glanced up, his mocha-colored eyes invited her to sit back and stay awhile. Something she wasn’t about to let happen. Until she could identify this crazy thing swirling around them, the more space she kept between them the better. “Even though you’ve already seen it, let me refresh your memory. You may change your mind.”

Abby pushed herself away from the counter and marched past him, grabbing another lungful of his masculinity. Once he realized the scope of the project, he’d probably disappear again. Disappointment made a home in her heart. Just once she’d like to lead a normal life. Just once she’d like to have someone stick around. But even more important, she wanted to find a permanent place to call home.

She stood in the doorway leading into the small kitchen and waited for Cole to catch up. More tension crystallized into tiny fragments of emotional energy when he moved in behind her.

His guarded whisper scraped her eardrums. “Contrary to what you might believe, I’ve never been inside here before. My ex-partner came and bid on the project and took the money. Until it’s paid back, I won’t change my mind. After you.”

Abby felt the weight of his gaze all the way down the hall. Something weird and crazy seemed to pass between them every time they came in close proximity. Maybe she should get a job? Surely there had to be someone in town who needed help. She had enough experience doing mundane things, and she could use the extra money. That would keep her away during the day, but if she did that, the restorations would take that much longer without her help.

Besides, who would hire Bancroft’s illegitimate granddaughter? Sure the people in town had been more than welcoming to her, but for how long? Don’t go there. Her teeth buried themselves into her bottom lip as she pivoted by the front door. “As you can see, this is the foyer.”

“Actually, it’s the reception area. People used to mingle here while waiting for dinner to be served. That’s why it’s wider than a normal hall. I like it, though the wallpaper and paint have to go.” Cole walked over to the wood staircase near the back right and ran his hands across the smooth, paint-coated banister that led to the second floor.