Page 13 of By Your Side

“I called Owen Callahan.” Sputtering, I move to stand in front of him.

His brows pinch together, looking at me like I’m missing something.

It clicks. “You’re Owen Callahan. I didn’t know that. I thought your name was Wally.”

He gives me a weird look. “Wally is the farmer whose truck you almost hit. I just happened to be driving said truck to help him fix his tractor.”

An awkward silence fills the air as I flush. I had missed seeing anyone in the tractor, Owen capturing my full attention that day, but it makes sense there would be a second person there.

“If you don’t want your house to become an indoor pool, I suggest you let me get to work.” He gestures behind me.

Stepping to the side, he brushes past me, letting out a low whistle as he takes in the disaster unraveling in my bathroom. I watch as he works under the sink for less than a minute to stop the water. He tries the lights, raising his brows when nothing happens.

“I turned on the wet vac and they went out.”

“Hmm,” he rumbles, moving past me to go to the basement. Just as quickly as he stopped the water, the lights come back on.

He’s back just as fast, working silently in the bathroom, only stopping to go outside and come back with a second toolbox.

Wandering away, I busy myself with another started but unfinished project while I wait.

It feels like hours when he finally appears in the doorway of the small bedroom, but checking my watch, I squeeze my eyes shut when I realize less than forty-five minutes have passed. Damn, he’s fast.

He glances at my phone, where a video tutorial is playing as I attempt to dismantle the closet. His lips twitch again, but no smile. “I thought I told you to stop with the YouTube videos. Let me guess, Plumber Allan told you how to fix under the sink downstairs.”

My face burns, chin lifting as I hold his gaze. “No. His name was Garth.”

This time a chuckle escapes, a low and rumbly sound that sends a lightning trail down my stomach. Flushing, I stand and brush my hands on my legs.

“Look, the house isn’t cursed. It’s just old and neglected. Before you start on all this”—he gestures to the partially dismantled room—“I suggest you deal with the bones first.”

Despite the gruffness of his tone, I appreciate his candidness.

“Owen, I can’t do this by myself. I thought I could, but this . . . I need professional help. And no one comes with higher praise than you.” Swallowing hard, I push through. “I would like to hire you to complete and manage any contractors for the renovations. I want to learn and help when appropriate, but you’re right. I can’t learn this from video tutorials.” My voice is low, my eyes focused on his throat instead of his gaze, which I feel burning into me.

The silence in the room builds like a pressure until I finally look up.

“Please,” I whisper.

His amber eyes hold mine, pinning me to the spot. He takes a deep breath and glances around the room before releasing the breath in a loud, exasperated sigh. His chin jerks in a quick nod. “Okay. We can sit down next week to go over the contract. I will allow you to help me, but you will need to follow my directions exactly without arguing or I won’t allow you to help anymore. When it comes to doing anything in the house, you don’t so much as pick up a hammer without checking with me first.”

Spine straight, I nod. His tone brooks no argument, but he’s conceding a lot to involve me. I’m sure it’s the last thing he wants—we’re oil and water.

“Next week then.”

He leaves, the door shutting hard behind him.

Moving to my bedroom, I watch him get in his truck and drive away. Through the open window, I’m positive I heard him say, “This is a bad idea.”

eight

Adeline

The hinges on the barn door glide across the rail, glistening with the fresh oil. The past week has dragged by, renovations halting while Owen drafted up the contract. After a day of losing my mind with nothing to do, I started tackling little jobs around me to help keep my mind and body occupied. And he never once mentioned the barn being off-limits. My meeting to go over everything with Owen is finally this afternoon.

As much as big projects have more bang, accomplishing little things on my own, and without disaster, has been immensely satisfying.

Sitting down, I gaze out at my yard. The freshly cut lawn almost distracts from the roughness of the exterior of my house and the dilapidated animal pens around the edges of the yard.

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