Page 12 of Accidentally In Love

“I can do this. I promise.”

He forced a smile and nodded. “I believe you.”

“So tell me. What do you think you’d like in a partner?”

Chapter 6

Like in a partner?

I want you.

Wasn’t it obvious?

“I’m partial to brunettes,” he answered, admiring her long silky dark tresses. “Independent. Capable. Smart. Goal-driven.” How far could he push this without her seeing right through him? “Willing to ask for help when they need it. A person is only as strong as the people they surround themselves with.”

She sipped her wine and then nipped a corner off her slice of pizza before flashing him a discerning glance. “Good. Good. Any other particular attributes?”

He shook his head, even though he wanted to shout that the only attribute he wanted was for the woman to beher. He wanted Laurel Hart. He wanted her more than he should want a woman he barely knew. A woman he’d literally only met a few hours ago. She had baggage. An ex had been mentioned. An estranged family. Her heart was sad, showing through her eyes every so often. Showing through slips in her brave facade.

But her spirit was exactly what he craved. Alive and free and willing to take a chance. She’d come to town with a blank slate. Not many people had the guts to do that. But she did and he wanted to know everything about her.

“I can work with that.”

He finished his food and downed the last of his beer. “I should get to work on that bed upstairs so you’re not sleeping on the floor again.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “How did you—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Mick chuckled and stood from the table. “You didn’t have any furniture.”

“Yeah.” A heavy sigh slipped out with the admission. “I didn’t want to spend money on a hotel when I had a perfectly good house sitting here.” She waved her hand around the room.

“Letme grab my toolbox from the truck. Be right back.” She nodded and he slipped out the front door with barely a sound. The sky was dark and the wind nippy at his bare neck.

February in Texas was nearing the end of winter, but today felt like mother nature had forgotten that detail. At least the rain had stopped. He shivered through a chilly breeze, grabbed his tool box from the back seat of his truck and turned to head back into the house.

The picturesque view in front of him made his stomach drop out. The farm house was dark outside, but all the windows were lit from the inside. But the one that truly captured his attention was the kitchen one. Warm and yellow and featuring a beautiful woman swiftly moving around the kitchen cleaning up their meal. He could imagine coming home every night to this picture. He could imagine little kids running around between her legs, squealing with glee and making her laugh.

Mick shook his shoulders out and grunted. What he was being was ridiculous. She didn’t want him. Hadn’t shown any interest in him. He was a friend helping out. Not even twelve hours into a new relationship and he was already solidly in thefriend zone. Thirty-five years old and he still didn’t have a clue on how to be more than the nice guy everyone depended on. Never the guy a girl wanted to stay with. Never exciting enough.

“Hell.” He rolled his neck and headed back inside, securing the front door closed behind him. “I’m headed upstairs.”

“Be there in a minute. I’ve got to dig out the new sheets I bought a few days ago.” Her voice rang out from the back of the house. Not the kitchen anymore. Probably the second living area where she had boxes stacked to the height of his shoulders.

Climbing the stairs, he squeezed the handle on his toolbox harder and wished for once he had a personality more like his friend Jack. Jack was never afraid to ask for what he wanted. To set a goal and achieve it. Not that Mick hadn’t set goals in his life, but his accomplishments were something he kept to himself. Besides his parents, not a single soul on the planet knew he was writing screenplays. Maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe the secrets and ashamed part of him was holding back the potential to truly achieve.

A loud screech from Laurel brought him barreling down the stairs. He caught the bottom railing and spun himself toward the living area.

“Laurel?” Mick rushed across the open living room to the back of the house, the room filled with stacked boxes—except they weren’t so stacked anymore. Several towers had fallen and Laurel lay motionless beneath them. “Good, God, what happened?” He knelt beside her lifting several lightweight boxes, before getting to a very heavy small box resting squarely on her chest. He moved it aside too, and brushed a large sweep of her dark satiny hair from her face.

She was gasping, like she was trying to speak, but air wouldn’t cooperate and enter or leave her lungs. Her eyes were red and tears leaked from each corner, leaving trails of discomfort on his soul.

“Hey, try to breathe slowly. Do you think you need to go to the hospital?”

Her head shook back and forth. That box must’ve knocked the air out of her completely.

“Anything specific hurt?”

“M-my e-ego,” she rasped, finally getting the slightest bit of air into her stunned lungs.

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