Page 17 of One Touch

“What the hell are you doing?”I looked over my shoulder to find Kate leaned in close with her phone. Her perfume was driving me insane and we had a shit ton of work to do before the inspector arrived.

I stared down at the spot where Kate’s hand balanced on my forearm as she centered her shot. Her delicate fingers wrapped around the muscle of my forearm, and hot sparks shot up to my shoulder and chest.

“Snapping a picture. For the fans.” Kate smiled up at me, and I forced myself to look away, but I didn’t move.

For the past three weeks Kate had done moredocumentingand less helping the actual renovation, unless you counted providing her unsolicited opinions on every minute detail. Apparently her little Instagram page had started to take off—people were actually interested in seeing the process of transforming a hundred-year-old farmhouse into the modern age.

Initially I’d complained that she was in the way, but when email inquiries into my business tripled seemingly overnight, I shut my mouth. Her page was drumming up more work for myself and struggling Outtatowner businesses, and it was free advertising. But it did mean that I had to endure her bending over to get a close-up shot or leaning in for a reluctant selfie and assaulting me with her intoxicating perfume.

Kate started typing on her phone. “What are these again?”

“Casement windows.”

“And why did you choose that style?” She held the phone up to me and mouthedit’s recordingas she nodded and circled one finger in the air.

I clenched my jaw and crossed my arms. “Casement windows offer versatility in both form and function.” I gestured toward the freshly hung living room windows. “Lined up like this and you have an unobstructed view of the landscape. The windows swing outward to allow airflow, and there’s plenty of opportunity for sunlight to brighten an otherwise dark room.”

I dropped my arms. “Happy?”

Kate’s bright-white smile grew as she lowered the phone. “That was perfect! People are going to love it!” She went back to typing something.

“If you say so.” I swallowed back the lump that her bright smile and enthusiasm drummed up inside me as I turned to walk away.

Truth was, the more time I spent in Outtatowner, the more time I spent withher, the more out of sorts I started to feel. For six years I’d known Kate to be the kind of woman to stay quiet, appease everyone, and not make a scene. That woman wasnotthe effervescent Kate Sullivan with the arresting smile behind a rapidly growing Instagram page.

Granted, my previous interactions were limited to uncomfortable holidays or the odd family obligation I was guilted into, but this new version of her was at war with the woman Declan had strung along or the sweet little sister Duke talked about.

I couldn’t think about it too long or a headache would inevitably throb at the base of my skull. For the moment I would tuck that information away and ignore the nagging feeling that I may not know Kate Sullivan as well as I had assumed.

I stepped out into the afternoon sunlight and spotted Ms. Tootie spreading scratch grains on the ground for her beloved chickens. She clucked her tongue, and they happily clucked back as she meandered through the yard.

“Ma’am.” I nodded at her when I caught her attention.

She grinned. “Oh, stop with that. How can I help, dear?”

“Just an update. The windows are in and look great. Paint will be up this afternoon, and the trim guy is already at work with measurements. Once that’s done, the crew will be free to move on to phase two.”

“Oh”—she feigned interest—“phase two. Sounds exciting.”

The corner of my mouth lifted. Of all the Sullivans, Tootie seemed the least concerned about things like phases and progress. “That’s the kitchen demo. It’ll mean a lot of noise and a whole lot of mess, but we’ll do our best to keep it to a minimum.”

She nodded. Living in construction was difficult, and after the dressing down Kate had given me about the house, I had done my best to demand the crew treated their home with the respect it deserved. “It won’t bother me any. I plan to move back in once everything is all done.”

“I didn’t realize you and Kate were moving out. That actually makes things a bit easier since—”

“Not Kate. Just me.”

I frowned at her.

Ms. Tootie smiled. “Kate’s got a stubborn streak she’s currently leaning into. The poor girl’s been through a lot, and she’s still finding her footing. She’s planning to stay through the renovation, but I just can’t deal with the dust. It gets into my hair, dries it out. I don’t prefer that at all.”

The thought of Kate being alone in the old farmhouse didn’t sit right with me, but I’d learned the woman’s stubborn streak was a mile long. If she’d decided to stay, it wasn’t my responsibility to talk her out of it.

I nodded at the sweet old woman. “I’ll do what I can to get you home as soon as possible.”

She reached out and patted my forearm. “I know you will, dear. Thank you.” It was a sweet, maternal gesture that made my throat feel dry.

When Tootie turned her attention back toward the chickens in the yard, I eyeballed the rooster, whose head popped up to stare me down. I jerked my shoulders toward him, and he squawked and stepped back.

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