Page 6 of Between Now and Forever
That should’ve been it for me. The confusion—What does ‘unavailable’ even mean?—should’ve been a turnoff. Instead, I still dream about self-assured men who are just out of reach. I’m drawn to the ones who keep a part of themselves locked away. They’re a treasure chest of surprises.
I gaze up at my neighbor and blush.I bet he’s full of surprises.
He reaches toward me. I brace for his hand to contact my skin. The anticipation alone nearly lifts me off the flowers to brush against his body quicker. But instead of offering me his palm or checking me for injuries, he grabs the edge of the broken railing and pulls.
Oof.
The piece of wood falls into his grasp with little effort.
“It looks like this whole thing needs to be replaced,” he says, inspecting the plank and pointedly ignoring my barely covered body beneath him. “This is rotted.”
I release the air in my lungs, annoyed. “It’s on my list.”
“List of what?”
“Things to fix.” I move my hip off a sharp stalk. “I need to paint and to fix the kitchen drain. Stop the toilet upstairs from running. The doorbell sounds like a wounded animal. And now the railing is trash.”
“Didn’t your home inspection point all of this out?”
“I’m sure it would’ve.”
His brows shoot to the sky. “‘Would’ve’?”
“I didn’t have one.”
“You bought a house without having it inspected?” He shifts his weight. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“Careful. This is starting to sound an awful lot like hero language. Just saying.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Look, I’m starting to itch,” I say, scratching my shoulder. “So either lend a hand like the gentleman you haven’t proven yourself to be or return to your truck and don’t watch my Olympic-worthy routine getting out of here.”
He tosses the wood onto the porch. “You have a plan, then?”
“My plan to get out of here?”
“No, your plan to fix the railing.” He huffs a breath, exasperation thick in his tone. “Yes, your plan to get out of the bush.”
I narrow my eyes at him before glancing at my surroundings.
The lilacs must be as old as the house because flowers don’t grow this thick overnight. I’m tucked so deeply into the center of the plants that I don’t think he—whatever his name is—would’ve seen me if he hadn’t watched me fall.
Except he did see me, and now I need to get out of here with my dignity intact.
What’s left of it, anyway.
“I’m going to”—I have no clue—“just climb out next to the house.”
I bring my gaze back to his. His eyes steal my breath.
Gold rings hug the irises, blending into a mossy-green hue. The green deepens until it shifts into a chocolate-brown color that lines the outer edge. They’re beautiful.
“I need to get back to my truck,” he says. “But I also need to know you got out of there without breaking your damn neck.”
His voice is gruff, and the edges of the words are sharp. But as he looks down at me, there’s a warmth in his eyes and a hint of disingenuousness in his tone that he can’t entirely hide.
I lift a brow in a silent challenge.
