The Hero's Redemption. Janice Kay Johnson
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have been worrying about that. The back steps aren’t so good, either.”
He shook his head, poked at the porch apron, then gingerly climbed to the porch itself, where he did some more stabbing.
His verdict? “Whole porch should be rebuilt.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Can you do that?”
“Sure.”
“Well, then.” Gosh, buying lumber might have been a smart thing to do. She’d bought a circular saw with the vague idea that she could use it for small projects. Was that what he’d need?
“Can you drive?” she asked.
Not wasting even one word, he shook his head.
“Then I guess I should go to the lumberyard.”
“Did you buy a measuring tape?”
Oops. “I’ll...go see if I can find one inside.”
“I’ll check the workbench. If you can get a pencil and piece of paper...”
Feeling awkward, she went inside, aware that he’d disappeared into the garage. The best she found was an old wooden yardstick. But she stepped out onto the porch to find him crouched, a metal measuring tape already extended across the porch steps. “I can do the writing,” she offered.
He reeled off dimensions and what kind of board was needed. Two-by-four. Four-by-four. Two-by-two. Nails. Primer. Brushes. He asked if she’d bought paint for the house yet. No.
“Might be good to decide what colors you want,” he suggested. “Then I can paint the porch as I go, while the weather holds.”
She could do that.
He said he hadn’t seen a ladder. She told him she had a stepladder inside. A faintly condescending expression crept over his impassive face. Three steps wouldn’t get him very high on the side of the house, he pointed out. Um, no, they wouldn’t.
“Tell you what,” he said finally. “If you want to run to the lumberyard, I’ll get the clippers and start cutting back the growth that’s crowding the house. Can’t scrape it if I can’t get to it.”
“Will you recognize the lilac and...there used to be a big climbing rose to the right of the porch?” she asked, remembering the garden in bloom so many years ago. “Oh, and some rhododendrons.”
“I’ll recognize them.”
They agreed she could pick up paint chips today and think overnight about what colors she wanted for the house. When she left, clutching the piece of paper with the materials list, she told him the front door was unlocked if he needed the bathroom. But she saw his face. He wouldn’t be going in.
Now was a fine time to wonder whether she’d crossed the line to crazy.
COLE SWUNG THE machete in a smooth rhythm, glad Erin had thought to buy one. The sharp blade sliced through blackberry canes, salmonberries, fireweed and other nuisance weeds, baring the foundation and clapboard siding of the old house. He used the ancient clothesline he’d found in the garage to pull salvageable shrubs away from the house.
When he heard the Jeep turn into the driveway, he walked around the corner of the house to meet her.
The first thing he noticed was the aluminum extension ladder tied to the roof. Lumber was piled in the back of the Jeep, extending beyond the bumper. A strip of red cloth dangled from the end of the longest board.
He forgot everything else when Erin got out, carrying a pizza box.
His stomach cramped and saliva filled his mouth. Pride made him want to thank her politely and refuse her offer of lunch, but he was too damn hungry. If he didn’t get more to eat, he wouldn’t be able to do the work she’d asked of him.
“Let’s eat before we unload,” she said.
He managed a stiff, “Thank you.”
She handed over the pizza. “I have bottled water and some Pepsi in the fridge. Milk, too. What would you like?”
When was the last time anyone had given him a choice? He didn’t want milk, he knew that, but only said, “Anything.”
She disappeared into the house, returning with two cans of pop and a bottle of water, as well as what looked like a wad of paper towels. When she saw him sitting on the bottom porch step, legs outstretched, she put the drinks down within reach and sat, too.
“We aren’t going to end up on our butts in the dirt if we move wrong, are we?”
He felt a tiny spark of amusement, which surprised him. “There’s not far to fall.”
“Well...that’s true.” She picked up a slice of pizza and started eating.
She’d bought a half-meat, half-cheese pizza. He sank his teeth into a slice heaped with sausage, pepperoni and mushrooms, almost groaning with pleasure.
“How far did you get with the weeding?” she asked eventually.
“About halfway around.” Did she realize it might take a couple of weeks to do the job she’d talked about, rather than the two or three days he’d originally expected?
“Any surprises?”
“Some siding that’ll need to be replaced.” He’d used the screwdriver to check for rot as he went.
She scrunched up her nose. “Figures.”
Two pieces later, he said, “The gutters are in bad shape.”
“I noticed rain was running right over them.”
Without a ladder, he hadn’t been able to look closely, but they were obviously packed full of leaves, fir needles and debris. They’d also torn away from the eaves in places. She might decide to hire a company that specialized in gutters to replace them instead of keeping him on.
He stopped eating sooner than he would have liked, and began unloading the Jeep. Erin came to help him. The lumber went in the garage. He propped the new ladder against the house, figuring they’d need it today. When she put on gloves and started scraping, he went back to taming the wild growth.
By now, there was some burn in his muscles as he swung the machete. Lifting weights built muscle, but this required a different kind of motion. To block out the discomfort, he turned his thoughts in another direction.
He hadn’t let himself speculate about another person in a long time, but as the next couple of hours passed, Cole did a lot of thinking about Erin Parrish. How could he help it?
Despite his wariness, he spent some time savoring the pleasure of watching her. Whenever he passed behind her, his gaze lingered on the long, slim line of her back, the subtle curve of her waist and hips, her ass and astonishing legs. He had a feeling he’d have no trouble picturing her face tonight when he should be trying to sleep. Her eyes were beautiful, the gold bright in sunlight, the green predominant in the dimmer lighting of the garage. The delicacy of her jaw, cheekbones and nose turned him on as much as her body did. He hadn’t seen anything this pretty in ten long years.
But mostly he tried to understand what she’d been thinking.
Why would a lone woman hire someone like him, no questions asked? He could be a rapist, a murderer; how would she know? She might have assumed she was safe, midday in a residential neighborhood, but he could have pushed her into the house more quickly than she realized. Or yanked the garage door down while they were piling lumber in there. Done whatever he chose, then walked away.
He wanted to ask why she’d hired him, but he wanted the job more. Encouraging her to have second thoughts wasn’t in his best interests.
Yeah, but this could be