Page 9 of Debt of My Soul

“I’m sorry. We did say Saturday, right?”

Adam’s face is bright and awfully chipper for 7:00 a.m.Didn’t we say 9:00 a.m.?He’s smiling at me, his gaze lingering on my bare legs and climbing to my pajamas. I follow his perusal and shove my robe back together where it’s open.

Putting on a show for the contractor this morning. Lovely.

“We did. I’m sorry. I overslept.” I eyeball the coffee still hovering in my face, and he nods at me.

“You know you want it.” His grin grows wider at my confused expression. Both work boots step into my view, closer than before and right at the threshold. My heart picks up speed at his charming smile, and I’m baffled by my own reaction.

“Uh, sure. Thank you so much. Come in. Let me just go get dressed quickly. I’m so sorry, again.” I step back, holding the torn screen door open for him.

He sets his toolbox and materials down in the kitchen while I scurry back to my bedroom, nearly face-planting as I trip over the broken floorboard I dodge daily.

Fortunately, this room is the only space semi put together. I found a white oak bed frame at a yard sale in a nearby wealthy neighborhood. After three separate trips to bring it home, I still slept on the floor for a few nights, waiting for my boxed mattress to arrive. Now it’s my sanctuary for all things sleep and grief. Because that’s all I’ve done in it. Sleep and cry.

After hauling out my suitcase from the closet missing both doors, I dig through, looking for some gym shorts and a T-shirt. I definitely need to get some more work clothes. Looks like another trip to Double Lucky’s thrift store is in order.

Clangs and clicks sound from underneath my closed door as I rip off my shirt and shove on a bra.

Beside the closet is the entrance to the small en suite. Unfortunately, all the tile work needs to be redone. A new toilet is also needed because, apparently, the plumbing is stoppedup somewhere in the line, according to my dad—who I had to FaceTime in order to diagnose it.

For now, I use the hallway bathroom, and I dart out of my master bedroom to use it. Green and yellow tiles adorn the floor, and it looks like someone threw up in the square box, but it works. And that’s what counts.

I brush my teeth and toss my hair into a messy ponytail. I linger, looking over my clear face in the mirror, then glance at the door while listening to Adam work in the kitchen.What the hell.I yank out my makeup and do a quick application. Some concealer, blush, and mascara. I’d hate to scare the man away before he’s started.

Chris never cared if I wore makeup, or at least I thought he didn’t. Many weekends at our home together we’d work tirelessly outdoors. Mini home improvement projects or work in the raised garden bed I attempted for several years. I’d roll out of bed without makeup and go the whole day in ragged clothes and frizzy hair. He was never deterred. We’d laugh and argue, casually making up throughout the day, then go on a dinner date in the evening.

I don’t know what I did wrong.

After I compose myself, I pad into the kitchen. The entire cast iron bowl has been removed and Adam is on his back under the sink. His shirt rides up, and his muscular abs peek out, a faint patch of hair leading down to?—

I blink and turn away, busying myself with the coffee he brought for me. A vanilla latte, from the taste of it.

“Thank you for the coffee. It’s good!”

Adam tilts his chin to his chest, eyeing me. Another grin widens across his mouth, his eyes glistening with what looks like humor. I lift the cup in appreciation and offer him a smile over it before taking another sip.

“My good friend and his wife own the shop. I’m sure they’d love it if you stopped by. Everyone’s been wondering about the new woman in town.”

My cheeks heat. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice from the dark void of my cabinets.

This is a small town. I knew the possibility of being discussed and gossiped about was there. Heck, even in my town back home, four times this size, news spread fast about Chris’s indiscretions. Leaving quickly prevented anyone from talking me out of it. I’m sure the rumor mill has sprouted wings and fully taken off by now, but I’m miles away.

“Wondering, huh? Maybe more like questioning?” I snort.

His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Trust me. People wonder. New folks around these parts are the talk of the town. Especially here in Ruin.”

Flashes of my time in the bank yesterday occupy my thoughts—that man.Especially here in Ruin.Maybe that’s why the man was glaring at me from across the street. He doesn’t like outsiders.

“Yeah. In the bank yesterday I met with a woman named Pam?—”

“Oh, she’s a sweetheart. You’ll love her,” Adam interjects.

“Yeah. She was. A few men came in, though. They looked like part of a motorcycle club. But … when I asked, she said no. Told me to leave it alone.” I bite my lip, looking at my teal nail polish, then lift my eyes ever so slightly.

Adam’s face has fallen. A pale color replaces the sun-kissed golden cheeks he came in with. “I’d listen to her, Fleur. They aren’t people you want to mess with.”

You see, that right there is why I want to know. Who are these people who have the whole town spooked?

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