blasted into her life and taken up too much of her brain capacity already. Sure, he was a good-looking guy. Tall and broad, fit and honed, his dark curls long enough to be scraped back in a man bun but just pushed carelessly backward off his forehead.
Like a swashbuckling pirate.
He was masculine in a way that charged the air particles all around him, and she did not have time for charged freaking particles. She had enough on her mind without him. Getting this job done while juggling the demands of her son was going to be hard enough without his kind of distraction.
But…he’d surprised her last night. He’d sidestepped her inquiries about his experience, but his lament over the travesty of the red sitting room floor had been genuine. And the way he’d caressed the wood spoke even more than his words.
Not many people got the importance of preserving something from long ago, of reviving a moment in time for all perpetuity—not in this throwaway society. True craftsmanship had been lost in a world of Allen keys and IKEA. There were still those who loved craft and appreciated quality—she employed dozens of them herself—but they were few and far between. They were her kind of people, though, and every one of them held a tiny piece of her heart.
Except she did not want Cole Hauser to have a tiny piece of her heart, no matter how platonic the esteem. He struck her as the kind of guy who wasn’t ever satisfied with just a tiny piece of anything. Professional athletes liked to win.
And Jane wasn’t interested in playing.
Besides, he was obviously dealing with his own crap. The hostile way he’d regarded her helping hand last night was just one indication. He obviously resented his relative incapacity and hated asking for help, which suited her fine. She didn’t have the time, anyway. She only had time for Finn and this job.
The one that would put her company on the map.
An hour later, she was sitting with Finn at the big old central kitchen bench. He was dunking warm cookies into cold milk with one hand and stroking Carl with the other.
Jane wasn’t a fan of the chameleon being on the bench, but it was keeping Finn occupied while she caught up on some work emails on her laptop.
In the distance, she heard the front door open. So did Finn. And Carl. “That’s him!” Finn exclaimed, preparing to leap down from the stool.
“Nuh-uh.” Jane shook her head firmly, and Finn checked his imminent leap. “Stay here and finish your snack, young man. Mr. Hauser doesn’t want you bothering him.”
Just like she didn’t want Cole bothering her.
“Mom…” Finn grumbled, obviously disappointed at this restriction.
Within moments, Cole was in the doorway, several shopping bags hanging off the fingers of his right hand. He was wearing purple-and-yellow frangipani board shorts that molded to his thighs, a plain black T-shirt with the white Nike tick that hugged his chest, shoulders, and abdomen, and a pair of flip-flops.
He couldn’t have looked more Australian had he been wearing a cork hat and muttering crikey!
He should’ve looked ridiculous dressed like he was spending the day at the beach in buttfuck eastern Colorado, but he didn’t. He looked casual and comfortable in his skin, and damn if her belly didn’t do a little flutter.
“Mr. Hauser,” Finn said, his face lighting up like a firework. “Mommy cooked chocolate chip cookies. Do you want one?”
Cole hefted the bags on top of the bench next to the sink. “No thanks, mate.” He pulled out a packet of store-bought cookies. “Got my own.”
Jane wasn’t sure if that was a dig at her or not, but she didn’t have time to process it as Finn’s eyes widened. “Mommy,” he whispered. Finn’s whispers were usually loud as a foghorn, and this one didn’t disappoint. “He called me mate. Just like on Bluey.”
Between The Wiggles and Bluey, Finn was exposed to a high proportion of Australian television content, and his newest favorite was Bluey, a cartoon about the adventures of a Blue Heeler puppy.
She watched surreptitiously as Cole unloaded his bags, shoving the cold stuff in the fridge, including several pints of milk and a couple of six-packs of Bud. Then he stored the non-perishables in an empty under-bench cupboard. He didn’t ask for direction or permission, and Jane didn’t offer any. When he was done, he headed back toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Finn asked as Cole reached the doorway.
He paused. Jane could see the