Page 49 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

She tips her head, lifts her shoulder, and flutters her eyelashes in a way that brings a smile to my face. Evie is definitely better company than Blaine.

As if she’s read my mind, she throws out the question I know has been on hers since she got here this morning. “So, what’s Blaine’s story? I’m guessing you have more reasons for keeping him around than help is hard to find. Or is that it?”

“That’s one reason.” I consider whether I should tell her any more. Then I remember how she responded to him, and I know she can be trusted with his story. “We went to school together. He’s a couple years older, but everyone knows everyone here.”

I stop long enough to roll in the tape measure, and we move to the next area. “He was always a partier, even when we were really young, but he cleaned up for a while after he got his girlfriend pregnant. They got married and seemed happy, but then he started drinking again.”

Evie listens and nods as we snap the next wall. “He was driving drunk one night with his wife and baby in the car and he ran off the road.”

She winces. The rest of the story is obvious, but I tell it anyway. “He walked away without a scratch. They died.”

She sucks in her breath. “That’s rough. Did he go to jail or anything?”

“He served some time, but I think the judge knew there was no punishment worse than the one Blaine gave himself.” I chalk a red line. Even though the floor will eventually cover it, the mark will always be there. “Some things can’t be erased, no matter what you do to bury them.”

Evie makes a mark sixteen inches from mine. Her hair falls over her shoulder, and I’m drawn once again to the bright blue strands. “It’s sad though, that he keeps doing the thing that’s caused him so much pain.” She stands, and her dark eyes swim with concern. “Is there any way to help him?”

“Not until he’s ready to help himself. Until then, the only thing I can do is keep him employed.” I wish there was another answer I could give her, but he’s tried rehab and quitting cold turkey. Nothing works.

“How often is he like that?” She nods toward Blaine’s truck, and I glance in that direction. I don’t see him, so he must be asleep.

“Not often. He’s a functional alcoholic. He drinks throughout the day, but he’s almost never drunk like he is today.” I leave out the part about how Blaine buys a pint of peppermint schnapps before work, another during his lunch break, and another after work. Everyone knows it. Maybe we’re all enablers, but all anyone can do is be here when he’s ready to face his pain.

I bend down to chalk the next section, but Evie stays still, studying me. “Not everyone would be okay giving him a job. Do you worry about him hurting himself or anyone else?”

“I don’t know how he does it when he’s buzzed, but Blaine’s good at his job. I keep a close eye on him, but there’s usually not a problem. When he shows up like he did today, I don’t let him work. The three or four guys who work regularly for me all know how to look out for him and themselves.” I tuck my tape measure in my belt. Talking to Evie made the job go faster.

She nods, still studying me. Heat creeps up my neck under her examination, but it’s a good heat. Whatever she’s figuring out about me, the soft curve of her lip tells me it’s good.

“I think, Adam Thomsen,” she says finally. “That you’ve got a pretty big heart under that grumpy exterior.”

Out of habit, I scowl. I’m not good at taking a compliment. “Keep that to yourself.”

Now she breaks into a smile and elbows me. “Does Mr. Grouchy not want anyone to know he’s a nice guy?” she says in that voice people use for babies and puppies.

I hate that voice.

“You ready to help me or not?” I hop down from the foundation to the ground.

“He’s just a big softie, isn’t he?” Evie keeps up with the voice.

“So what if I am? Is that so bad?” I growl. I’m tempted to let her jump down by herself. Instead, I reach up and help her down, holding her hand longer than I need to. I don’t know why. Maybe I miss the way a woman’s hand feels in mine.

Evie shakes her head, her eyes locked on mine. “No. There’s nothing bad about it at all.” Her voice is normal now, if a little soft.

I let go of her hand, but my eyes have trouble leaving hers. She looks at me like she can see who I really am. Maybe even who I really want to be.

Chapter 23

Evie

Once Adam and I have all the measurements marked and do a few other prep jobs, we’re ready to frame out the headers for window and door openings. He turns on an air compressor and hands me a nail gun. He doesn’t let go when I take it, thank goodness, because it’s a beast. With one hand on it, he steps behind me and circles his other arm around me.

“This gun has a lot of kick. Once you’ve got the hang of it, I’ll let you use it on your own.”

My power of speech melts away. Heat prickles my body in all the places Adam touches. His breath travels like soft kisses from my nape to my shoulders. He moves my hand so my finger is on the trigger under his, then tightens his arms around mine and braces his legs on either side of my waist.

“You got this,” he whispers softly, tempting me to imagine his lips caressing my ear.

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