Page 18 of Take The Risk

“No, thanks!” I loved Alex’s great-aunt, who adopted me as her pseudo-great-niece, dearly, but I really didn’t want her mucking about more than I already knew she had. “The issues and the contract were clear.” If Ty was patient with Lachlan, he was…Was patient-er a word? For a writer you’d think I’d be able to describe how Ty was with me. Gentle. Kind. Yes, patient. Understanding. He never once made me feel stupid, didn’t over- or underexplain, made sure I understood everything about what was wrong and what had to happen. He gave me options that still included me not working with him.

I slid my hand over his on the table, grateful Louise had to pop to her café, so we were alone. “I want you to work on my house. Did you scare me? Yes.”

His head fell when I said that, his shoulder stooping.

“But not because I thought you were going to hurt me. I—I don’t handle confrontation very well.” I thought it only right I give him some of my confidence given how vulnerable he’d been today. “Raised voices, anger, all of it sends me down a rabbit hole. And really, I was more afraid of what you were saying, of what it all meant, than you.”

Ty’s eyes sought mine. “I’m still sorry, Phoebe. I saw those issues and then—” He cut himself off and I had a feeling there was more.

For once, I was able to keep my mouth from running away with me with its questions.

“It won’t happen again.”

It was said with such conviction that on some level, a level where I didn’t really trust anyone after everything I’d been through, a small part of me told me I could trust that, if nothing else.

“I believe you,” I said softly, unaware my hand was still resting on top of his on the kitchen table.

We sat like that for a long moment, looking at each other in the silence of the kitchen. I felt the feeling that had hit me the first night I’d seen him thrum to life.

“Then Cady-Jo came in and we finished going over the contract.”

“Interesting.” Alex paused for a moment. “So you guys are going to stay there until the murder manor is no longer feeling stabby?”

“Pretty much.” It was strange. I didn’t feel the usual sense of claustrophobia that liked to choke me when I was staying around a lot of people. In some ways, Louise’s place felt comfortable, like home in a strange way. Familiar.

“So… how big is your bed?”

“What?” I frowned up at the ceiling. “It’s a queen. Why?”

The bedroom door flew open. “’Cause you get to be the big spoon!”

Chapter 8

​Pulling up to my house, I suddenly felt really stupid.

​I almost turned around, except another car pulled up behind me, blocking me, a man in construction clothes clambering out and heading for the open front door.

​Gripping the steering wheel, I took a deep breath. Sugar, apples, and spices wrapped around me. Usually, the smell of baked goods brought me peace. Right now, it made me feel like I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

​This is going to be so weird, Phoebe.

​You have to treat professional people professionally. You’ll make them uncomfortable if you don’t keep boundaries. Dad’s voice replayed in my head from when the upstairs bathroom flooded in the Atlanta house. I’d made the plumber a sandwich and some cookies, feeling bad at how hard he had to work given the issue turned out to be Jeremy’s fault. Dad had come by and given me a lecture, again, about my inappropriate behavior. It wasn’t exactly a new lecture. If I wasn’t being inappropriate like baking for people hired to do work, I was being awkward as hell saying things I shouldn’t say or asking questions when I should keep my mouth shut.

​I sighed. This was so dumb. I needed to learn how to behave normally.

​With that in mind, I went to restart my car when a knock on the window had me screaming.

​Whipping around in my seat, I saw Wade’s apologetic face in the window. “Sorry!” His voice was muffled by my closed window. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

​Staring at him, I tried to will my lungs to accept air.

​Without being asked, Wade opened the door, letting in the sounds that had been blocked out: the whine of a saw, the pounding of hammers, and the cracking of wood, mixed with the sounds of the wind and the rustle of leaves on the trees.

​“Sorry,” he repeated. “I thought you’d seen me walk up.”

​Shaking my head, I admitted, “I wasn’t really paying attention. I have a—Are you okay?”

​Wade was now leaning into my car. I reared back so he didn’t headbutt me. He kept sniffing, his nose dipping the way dogs do when they are sniffing for a grassy spot. “What is that smell?”