Page 34 of Delicate Escape

She brushed the hair out of her face. “I need to feed the kittens.” She glanced between me and the front yard. “Do you need anything? Or?—”

“I’m good,” I assured her. “Got everything I need in my truck. If I have any questions, I’ll knock.”

She slid the watch back into her overalls’ pocket—overalls that in no way should’ve been sexy but somehow were. The way the front dipped down, exposing just a hint of cleavage from her tank top. Or how the sides were low enough that I knew I could run a hand along her waist down to her hip or…go even farther.

Jesus.I needed to get a grip.

Thea looked up at me. “Thank you. For doing this. For being…patient.”

Tiny fractures opened in my chest. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

We didn’t. Not really. The longer it took for me to get into the house, the greater the chances that mold and rot could take root and spread. But I wouldn’t rush her. If it happened, I’d rip out every affected beam and replace it. No matter how long it took.

Her tongue darted out, sweeping across her lower lip. “Thank you,” she said again and then hurried into the house.

I watched until she’d disappeared behind the front door. I heard the lock latch. Not just a deadbolt, but a chain, too, if I wasn’t mistaken. And as I studied the industrial deadbolt on the piece of wood, I knew I wasn’t.

A muscle twitched in my cheek. What the hell was she hiding from?

13

THEA

What the hellwas I doing? Being monumentally stupid, that was what.

Moose leapt onto the stool at the counter and slapped my arm with his paw as if to punctuate the point.

“I know I’m an idiot,” I told him. “I don’t need you telling me, too.”

He let out one of his warbled meows in answer.

I tossed him a piece of turkey. I wasn’t above bribing him so he wouldn’t give me grief.

I fed the kittens and took time to cuddle each one. Then I cleaned up after them. They were tiny, but they left chaos in their wake.

After that, I cleaned the kitchen. You could probably perform surgery on the countertops now. When I was finished, I peeked out the front window and regretted it the moment the curtains parted.

At some point over the hour I’d been scouring my house, Shep had lost his shirt. The white tee was draped over the side of his truck instead of on his body like it should’ve been.Holy biceps, Batman.

A flush of heat swept through me at the sight of him working: muscles bunching and flexing as he drove his shovel into the dirt, then heaved it into a pile, a faint sheen of sweat making all that muscle glisten under the sinking sun.

I quickly let the curtains fall closed, but it didn’t matter. The image would be burned into my mind for eternity.

I needed another task to busy my hands, so I went with meal prep. I told myself it was simple courtesy but knew I was a liar. I wanted more time to bask in Shep’s glow and kindness. Because something about him made me feel alive again for the first time in two years.

So, now here I was, trying to come up with the best sandwich possible. I took an idea from The Mix Up menu and twisted it. Two slices of the olive bread I’d made from scratch, garlic aioli, smoked turkey, the sharpest cheddar I could find, and arugula. Then finished it with some caramelized onions.

I sliced the sandwiches in two, put them on plates, and then pulled out the bag of homemade potato chips I’d stress-baked last night. The cracked pepper I’d layered on them and the salt gave them a kick that would pair well with the sandwich.

A paw slapped my arm again.

I glanced at Moose, giving him a warning look. “Don’t be rude. You’ve had more than enough.”

He barked at me. Because, of course, I’d found the only cat on the planet that barked. Well, it was more of a chirped bark, but still. Absolutely ridiculous.

I sighed. “You want to come with me?”

Moose meowed in answer.

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