Page 85 of What Happens at the Lake

“Why don’t you do that? And I’ll grab my stuff and pull around into your driveway.”

“Okay.” She smiled.

One good thing about whatever was going on between us, I no longer had to pretend I wasn’t watching her. When she got to the back door, she turned. My eyes took their time lifting to find hers, so it was clear what I’d been doing.

“Still checking me out, huh?” She smiled smugly.

“Damn straight. By the way, doc, you might want to pack the Epsom salt. And the ice pack.”

***

“Heard you were thinking about putting in new flooring.”

Josie looked over at me. We were an hour into the drive and about a half hour from the B&B I’d booked. “How did you know that?”

“How does everyone know anything around here?”

She shook her head. “It’s really bizarre how fast things travel. My flooring isn’t even scandalous. But yeah, I’m thinking about doing the first-floor kitchen with new tile, the kind that looks like wood. The existing stuff is so outdated.”

“Well, let me know when you decide. I’ll place the order for you. I get a contractor’s discount.”

“Oh wow. Thanks. Will they still install it for me, though, if you order it?”

“I’ll install it for you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Still…you’ve done so much already.”

I wiggled my brows. “I plan to do much more. You just wait.”

Josie laughed. “Maybe you can show me how to install the floor and we can do it together?”

“If you want. But I can knock it out in a few hours by myself.”

“I’ve actually discovered that I enjoy learning and doing the work. When I decided to come down here, I thought fixing up the house would keep me busy. But it’s turned into more than that.” She looked out the window for a moment. “When I was little, after I realized I couldn’t dance for crap and ballerina was not likely happening, I wanted to be a painter. Not the artsy kind, but the kind who uses a roller on the walls.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “We had this painter my mom always used. His name was Roland, and he always had a smile on his face. He would paint the living room while humming to the songs playing in his headphones or singing along. He let me help him do the roller whenever my mom wasn’t home.”

My brows dipped together. “Only when your mom wasn’t around?”

“Melanie Preston would never allow me to hang out with someone doing work on the house. She treats people who work for her like they’re hired help, two steps below her. Plus, she wouldn’t want me to get any ideas about career choices. She’d already decided I was going to medical school. It was disappointing enough that I went for my PhD and did research and notreal medical school.”

“Why would what you do be disappointing? Aren’t they both doctors who heal people?”

“It’s more about the prestige for my mom than the actual work. She wanted me to be a surgeon like her. Research also doesn’t pay as well as medical doctors, and she measures success by things and awards. That’s probably why she and Noah got along so well.” She paused and grinned. “My mother would probably hate you.”

“Because I do construction?”

“And because you were a hockey player. My father used to have to watch football in the basement because she found contact sports barbaric.”

The thought of her mother disliking me might’ve amused Josie, but it made my jaw tic with tension. It shouldn’t have mattered. Meeting the parents wasn’t on my agenda, yet it hit a nerve for some reason. “Your mother sounds like she should use her surgical skills to get the stick out of her ass. Hope you don’t mind me saying so.”

Josie chuckled. “Not only don’t I mind, but it’s one of the reasons I like you so much.”

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