“I am.”
“Then what?”
“I’m not sure, I’m hoping to figure it out.”
There’s a gap between us. I’d never struggled to talk to these boys. They told me everything—even stuff I never wanted to know. My job was to stick by everyone. I didn’t follow through.
“Dexter’s at the big farmer’s market up north, but he left some tarts. They’re killer. That’s actually their name; Killer Tarts.”
He chuckles at the cleverness, and I smile with him. I miss them so much. Despite the invitation, I don’t think he means it, not with the guard dog on the porch step.
“Nah, I should probably head back. There’s a ton of work to be done at the house. Actually, I’m housing a few park employees who lost their housing in the fire.” I don’t explain further. I’m not sure how. “Thanks, though.”
George says, “Why don’t you take some to go. I can go grab it.”
It’s an offering. I take it. “That would be great. Thanks.”
I wait in the Jeep as George walks across the lawn. He and Jake speak for a moment, before both head back into the shop. I consider bolting—getting out of there while I can, but that’s the wrong thing to do. If they need to let me back in on their terms, I can handle it.
When George returns, he has a cup of my favorite iced coffee and a bag full of treats. I know that maybe we can work all of this out—someday.
“Thank you,” I say once again, taking a sip of my drink. So good. “You guys take care, okay?”
“We will,” George says, reaching into the window and squeezing my shoulder. I back out of the driveway, leaving the two at the shop, no longer looking like boys, but men.
I drive away thinking about the good I did for them, and the bad, hoping that with three new lost souls in my house, I won’t mess them up, too.
14
Sierra
“I’m going to do a load of laundry, does anyone need anything washed?” Adrian calls out from the small room next to the kitchen.
“I’ve got a few things,” I say, placing the last glass in the cabinet. “I’ll go get them.”
The front door is open because Smith and Holden have spent the evening up on the roof, fixing the flashing on the chimney. It’s been three days since the fire broke out. The guys are on leave, waiting to hear from their superiors about when the park will reopen and their new assignments.
The good news is that we’ve been able to get a lot of work done on the house.
The bad news is that working alongside three handsome, often shirtless men is a challenge of its own.
In my room, I grab my hamper and take it into the laundry room, where Adrian leans against the washer. His shir
t, thankfully, is on.
“Thanks” I say, handing it over.
“No problem.” He starts to load my clothing in. “I like to do laundry.”
“Really?” I wrinkle my nose. “I kind of hate it.”
He smiles. “Good, then it’s something I can take off your hands.”
I happen to look down at his hands, where he’s inadvertently holding a pair of my panties. Blue lace.
His eyes follow mine and the tips of his ears turn red. Quickly he tosses it in, along with a few other things, before dumping in the soap and starting the load.
I pretend it didn’t happen.