He cranked the stereo, to drown out any more mental rambling, and let the shock of metal guitar rattle his skull. It was almost five when he parked in front of the house. Clattering and banging from above greeted him when he stepped inside. At least Bailey was still here. Something crashed into the floor overhead, shaking the room. “Bailey?” He dropped the groceries and sprinted upstairs, pulse hammering in his ears when she didn’t answer.
Another house-rumbling boom greeted him. “Bailey?” He climbed the attic ladder as quickly as he could. Why wasn’t she answering? Had she hurt herself? Did something fall on top of her? A bare bulb hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows around the room and blending with the evening light.
“What?” Her irritated question came from behind him.
He spun and found her standing in the middle of stacks of boxes. Strands of hair had come loose from her ponytail and flew in wisps around her face, and dirt smudged her cheeks. His hammering heart slammed into his ribs. Despite the pursed lips and pink flush of exertion, she looked—
Furious. Nothing more. He cut off all other notions. “I heard a series of crashes. I was worried.”
“I’m surprised you made it back to hear anything. I figured you’d hole up until the storm blew over, rather than risk getting stuck here again.”
“I got held up. Things happen. I don’t have to be here.” He clenched his jaw. This wasn’t how he wanted this conversation to go.
She scrubbed her face and moved closer. “I didn’t mean to go off on you. I’m glad you made it.”
“That was almost an apology. Are you feeling all right?” He held his hand to her forehead, and she swatted it away, a smile peeking through her scowl.
“Bozo.”
He grabbed her fingers, and a jolt raced through him, sliding along his skin and lighting up his nerve endings. He pushed the reaction aside and tugged her toward the ladder. “I brought iced tea. Come downstairs, cool off, and we’ll talk.”
“No.” Despite the protest, she didn’t pull away. “I let you talk me into that last night, though I’ll admit I wanted to be convinced. But I’m a day behind because of it. So now you’re going to grab one of these boxes, and then another, and help me sift through everything, while I apologize.”
He studied her face—her crystal blue eyes, staring back; dirt-smeared freckles; full lips, half-pouting in the middle of her smile. Not furious. Simply beautiful. Letting his gaze drift lower—over a tank-top that hugged perky breasts, and faded jeans that followed the curve of her legs—would be a mistake. “Don’t do that.”
*
BAILEY LET HER FURYgrow for hours, while she sifted through contents of the room. Heat and dust amplified her irritation, as countless minutes ticked away and Jonathan still didn’t show. When the stack of boxes tumbled down on her, slamming her square between the shoulders, she snapped and kicked the lot of them. She cursed him from here to hell for being too...somethingto come back.
Then he had to rush up here, concern etched on his face, and be worried about her well-being. It disrupted her anger and knocked her off balance.
“Don’t do what?” she asked.
He took one of the boxes nearby, slid it between them, and crouched next to it. “Don’t apologize.” The flaps scraped against each other when he pulled them apart.
“But—”
“There’s bottled water downstairs. It’s still cold. Go grab one, so you don’t get a heatstroke or dehydration.”
Controlling. Arrogant.Despite his annoying command, his distress over her well-being made her insides flutter. “I’m not—”
“Go.” He looked up from the contents of his box.
She huffed but didn’t have a reasonable argument. And water did sound good. She brushed past him. When she got downstairs, she found two plastic bags of groceries spilled across the entryway. He really had been worried. She smiled in spite of herself, stashed the food, and grabbed two bottles to take upstairs. When she moved behind Jonathan, mischief and the tiniest hint of spite snaked through her.
He was focused on a collection of trinkets in front of him. “Welcome back.”
“Thanks.” She dragged the chilled bottle along the back of his neck.
He let out a long groan that blended into a laugh and reached back for the water. “So mean.”
“Maybe. But you’re bossy.”
“Yup. And you love it.”
She strolled back to where she’d been working, twisted the top off the drink, and took a long swallow. She finished half of it before she was ready to admit he was right. She needed that. She realized he was watching her, a smile playing on his face. “I do not,” she said.
“You have a system in place. How is this all arranged?”