Stormy Surrender - By Nicole Andrews Moore Page 0,46
women. And that helped him forget in the moment, but when it was over, when he was alone once more, he felt worse than before. Now he looked down at Marti, sitting on his bed. He was used to that being the only invitation he needed, but he could never…never with her. They would have to overcome their loneliness some other way.
“Let’s see what the plumber and the electrician say. They may need days. And as soon as that’s done, we’ll get at least the downstairs bathroom done. We’ll have water and electric in the kitchen. We’ll make it livable. I’m thinking that you can move in a week from now. The house won’t be finished, but you will have your space again.” He squatted before her and gazed at her face. She was avoiding eye contact, but he wasn’t going to give her that option. He lifted her chin, forced her to look at him. “Got it? A week. Maybe less if you stay out from under foot and stop getting into trouble.”
She smirked a little. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. He was almost gentle and playful. “I’ll try. I just need something to do. I’m so bored.”
He looked at his phone. It was only late morning. “What if we go to Charlotte and pick what you want for the bathroom and kitchen? Will that keep you busy enough for today?”
Nodding happily, she smiled as they walked out of the house and headed for his truck. He paused and spoke to the crew. And then they went on the most expensive shopping trip either one of them could ever remember.
The next day, Marti skulked around Hope House for as long as she could stand it. She had promised not to go to the house until he gave her approval. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen for a while. Finally, by lunch time, she couldn’t do it any longer. She left the grounds and went for a walk. Soon enough she found herself on Main Street. And then it was just a few steps to Laurel’s. She could almost taste the cupcake she was going to have after lunch.
“Hey, Marti!” Laurel called from the kitchen. “Whatcha want today?”
After glancing at the menu, she knew it was going to be French Onion soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. She walked over to her usual seat and only enjoyed a few moments of peace, reading a book on her iPhone when the chair across from her was pulled out.
She looked up, expecting to find Laurel, instead Joe was scowling at her. She merely groaned and turned her attention back to the book. It was a love story. When Marti realized that might be the only way she had to escape from her own loveless relationship years ago, she had turned to romance novels. She devoured them…just about any version of them, but especially paranormal. The more she had to dream and imagine the better. She had just about settled into a Christine Feehan novel…how she loved those Carpathians…when he was peering over the edge of her iPhone, trying to see what she was reading.
“What?” She asked without even trying to hide the irritation in her voice. She was banished from her house and he was walking around without an ounce of guilt.
“I just wanted to know what you were doing.” He leaned back in his chair and suddenly remembered that they were always being watched. He’d have to start carrying his own Texas Pete if he wasn’t careful. “Honestly, you could try being nice.”
She glared at him. “I could try being nice? You kicked me out of my house.”
“You keep messing everything up and slowing us down!” He leaned over the table at her.
“Yeah, well, it’s my house!” She crossed her arms over her chest like she had seen him do so many times and leaned toward him, too. Suddenly, he licked his lips. She flew back in her seat. She still remembered that kiss. She didn’t want to, either. Nope. She’d rather have a repeat performance. She sighed.
“Backing down? Good.” He leaned back with a self-satisfied look.
She set her phone down and said honestly, “I’m just bored. I have nothing to do. And I want to have the pride that comes from being able to show people around the house one day and say, ‘yup, I laid that tile, and I painted that wall.’ Only because of you, I can’t do that.”