ALREADY SEATED AT the small table, Cole realized that standing up and walking out wasn’t an option.
A huge, crockery bowl held the pot roast with potatoes, carrots and other vegetables. Now, Erin set butter and the basket of fresh-baked biscuits on the table, sighed and sank down in her chair. “This does smell good.”
“Will you actually eat any of it?” His question was probably rude, but also genuine. She nibbled. She didn’t eat.
Erin made a rueful face. “Yes. It just...doesn’t always seem to be worth the effort. You know?” She took a biscuit and handed him the basket. “Help yourself.”
She’d set out generous-sized bowls as well as small plates for the biscuits. He dished up a hefty serving for himself and watched as she took less. It seemed to be a reasonable amount, considering she must weigh half of what he did.
“This is nice of you,” he said finally, long-ago lessons taught by his mother rising from the depths.
Erin seemed to concentrate on the food in front of her. “It’s okay if you don’t want to eat here. I kind of put you on the spot today. I just...” She shrugged. “I get lonely, I guess. I thought you might, too. Sometimes I look out the window and see the light above the garage and think it’s silly that we’re making separate meals.”
Get lonely? She had no idea. Having her right in front of him made things worse, increasing his sense of aloneness. It would be hell, being conscious of her every shifting expression, every breath she drew, the tinge of color in her cheeks and the fragility of her too-slender body—when his history felt like an invisible force field that would scald his hand if he tried to reach across it.
After a pause, he said, “Most people are afraid of me. Even when they don’t know I’m an ex-con, they watch me when I go by as if they expect me to attack.”
Exasperation flashed in her eyes when they met his. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve never been afraid of you.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he had to ask. “Why?”
She blinked a couple of times, as if he’d taken her aback. “I don’t know,” she said finally. Her forehead puckered. “I’m not afraid of much. Or maybe anything.” She talked slowly. “I think...that instinct has been burned out of me. But I wouldn’t have been afraid of you, anyway. Somebody with bad intentions wouldn’t have reminded me that he’d just gotten out of prison. Besides, you don’t have that look.”
He ignored the last bit. She didn’t know what she was talking about. The only way to survive in the pen was to respond to challenges with quick, vicious strikes. That “do unto others” saying? In there, you did unto others what you feared they’d do unto you.
What really caught his attention was the middle part of her speech.
“Burned out of you?”
She shook her head, as if shedding water. “It doesn’t matter. We all have quirks.”
True, but an unwillingness to protect yourself? That had to be unnatural.
“What you did for Mr. Zatloka was nice,” she said.
“Mr....? Oh. The neighbor.” He filed away the name. “He looked like he’d have a heart attack by the time he was done, or just topple over.”
Erin laughed. “I had the same thought. But I knew if I offered to help, his male ego would be bruised.”
Cole smiled. “Probably.”
Damn, this meal was good. The meat all but melted in his mouth, as did the biscuits. He reached for another one.
Erin hadn’t put a lot away, but she was eating at least. “Have some more,” she said, nudging the bowl toward him.
“Did you grow up here?” he asked.
“No, but my dad did. It’s funny thinking of him living here as a little boy.”
“Where are your parents?” Apparently, he hadn’t entirely forgotten how to make conversation.
“Dead. Breast cancer for Mom six years ago, small-plane crash for Dad a couple of years later. He was taking lessons, and there was a mechanical failure.” Clearly, she didn’t want to expand. But she did raise her eyebrows. “What about your parents?”
“My mother died when I was ten.” One of his worst memories, despite everything that came after. “Sudden, splitting headache. Aneurysm, as it turned out.”
“Can’t those be familial?” She sounded worried.
“That’s what the doctor said. My sister and I were tested, but we didn’t have whatever weakness they were looking for.”
Erin nodded. “Your dad?”
“He’s alive.”
He split and buttered a biscuit, hoping she got the message. No more questions.
“And...your sister?”
“Dani. We stay in touch.” He hesitated. “Her husband isn’t so sure about me.”
“Oh.” She squished a potato with her fork. “I’m sorry.”
Cole searched for something to say. “The house looks good.”
Appearing grateful for the rescue, Erin said, “I wish Nanna could see it.” Another crinkle of her nose. “Except I don’t think it’s ever been painted any color but white. Maybe she’s rolling over in her grave.”
“I doubt it. She wouldn’t have left it to you if she didn’t love you. And the trim color reminds me of your hair.”
“My hair?” She gaped at him.
A little panicked, he said what he was thinking, anyway. “It’s sort of...peach-colored. With gold and a red that’s more of a russet.”
She kept gaping. Feeling heat in his cheeks, Cole couldn’t meet her eyes. Way to let her know how much time he’d spent studying her to come up with a description like that!
Yeah, and so poetic.
“I... Um, thank you?” When he failed to respond, she said, “So the house and I are coordinated?”
“Yeah.” Hoarse again. “Something like that.”
Both ate in silence for a few minutes.
“Where’d you grow up?” she asked at length.
“Seattle. You?”
“Salem, Oregon. Dad taught at Willamette University. Physics, of all things. I never liked any of the science classes I had to take. Mom illustrated children’s books.” She smiled, her eyes momentarily losing focus. “I have copies of the books she illustrated in a box somewhere.” With a one-shoulder shrug, she returned to the here and now. “I didn’t inherit any artistic ability whatsoever. Or musical. Dad played the piano. I took lessons for six very long years before Mom and Dad gave up.”
“I played the guitar.” He didn’t know why he was telling her this, but his dreams of rock stardom were another good memory, along with playing football. “Had a band. A friend’s mother let us practice in their basement. We played at some parties, got a few gigs at small clubs around Seattle, but I don’t think we’d have made it even locally in the music scene. After we graduated from high school, two of us stuck with it for another year, bringing in replacement band members, but it wasn’t as much fun.”
Amusement lit her face. “Did you sing?”
“Howled, more like.”
She had a rich, full laugh. “Did you prance around the stage?”
“God forbid. I sulked and brooded and let my hair hang over my face.”
“You do brooding well.”
“What?”
“You do.” Studying him, she said, “That wasn’t an insult.”
“I’m quiet. I don’t brood.” Yeah, he did.
“Okay, you just look like you’re thinking deep, dark, dangerous thoughts.”
Exasperated, he gave up.
He both wanted and didn’t want to ask what else she had for him to do once they’d finished painting the house. Originally, she’d talked about having him take care of the overgrown yard, but he could level it in a day with a weed whacker. Then what?
Apprehension sat heavy in him, as if he’d eaten too much. He stared down at what was left in his bowl.
“I could start working on the apartment in the evenings,” he said.
She frowned. “You shouldn’t have to work twelve-hour days.”
“I can get a lot done in an hour or two.”
“Well...” Erin set down her fork. “I don’t know. What should come first?”
“The outside stairs. Although once I start, I’ll have to work straight through.”
“I should’ve realized they were rotten, too.”
He nodded. “Not sure I’d want to haul something heavy like a new shower stall or bathroom cabinet up those stairs right now.”
“Okay. When we’re done with the paint job, I’ll buy the lumber for you to do that next. And I’ll pay you.” She narrowed her eyes at him until he closed his mouth, ending his protest. “That’s not the apartment. It’s part of the garage, and a safety issue.”
They talked about the rest. She thought he should gut the bathroom, although he could do it over time. “I can get some reasonably priced stock cabinets for the kitchen area, too. And a new sink and faucets. Probably a new refrigerator.”
“Or two?”
Ignoring that, she added, “Plus new flooring.”
“You know, it’s pretty comfortable the way it is.” Paradise. “You can rent it out without doing that much.”
“I could charge more if it’s not so run-down. And it would be a selling point if I end up putting the house on the market.”
Cole nodded. Not his decision. And the longer it took, the longer he could stay.
“I’d still like to tackle the yard before I end up stuck in the house like Sleeping Beauty,” she said.
Relief lightened his mood. It might not be a big job, but at least she meant to keep him on a little longer. Of course, his first thought was that he’d gladly kiss her awake. All he said was, “Blackberries climbing in your bedroom window?”
“Something like that.”
Shortly afterward, he offered to help her clean up. When she refused, he thanked her for dinner and left, pretending he didn’t see the disappointment she wasn’t successful at hiding.
Walking back down the driveway, he pondered the fact that eating with her had been...good. More comfortable than he’d expected, if he ignored the hum of near-painful physical attraction. Unfortunately, he couldn’t picture her jumping him, even though once in a while he thought he saw her sneak a look at his body. Unless he was delusional, he wasn’t the only one pondering what it would be like between them.
He had talked more than he had in years, too, he reflected, although he was less sure that was good. He couldn’t start spouting off to just anyone.
Cole came close to laughing. He’d become accustomed to living in his head. He doubted that would change. Tonight...well, something creaky had loosened, that was all.
Finding out Erin had lost her entire family didn’t surprise him. That kind of sadness he couldn’t miss. If her grandmother was Mr. Zatloka’s age, though, her death wasn’t exactly a tragedy. His mom would have said, To everything its season. No, something else was going on with Erin. The untimely deaths of her parents, of course, but he sensed there was more.
He didn’t see himself asking.
* * *
ERIN’S HEADLIGHTS SPEARED the dark, empty, two-lane highway in front of her. She’d told herself she was going for a drive, nothing more. It wasn’t as if she stomped the gas pedal to the floor every time she went out. Sometimes...sometimes, just being out here was enough.
Her Jeep Grand Cherokee wasn’t anywhere near as big as the van the college had owned, but tonight she could almost hear voices, laughter. They were with her, and yet they weren’t.
They’re waiting.
Were they angry? Why them and not her? She would have given her life in a second to save even one of the girls or Charlotte, all so much younger, so much more hopeful. If she died now, tonight, it wouldn’t bring any of them back. Erin knew that. She did. And yet, the darkness felt like the veil separating her from them.
Her speed climbed.
Did you somehow miss me last time?
* * *
WAITING FOR ERIN’S front door to open behind him and for her to join him, Cole unwrapped his sandwich and popped the top on a soda. This had become habit—sitting together on her front porch, talking in a lazy way, planning the afternoon, while they ate their lunches. He didn’t have to feel grateful to her for providing his food. He could at least pretend they were on an equal footing.
He liked the sometimes quirky but always analytical way her brain worked, her take on books they’d both read, current headlines, modern technology. As long as the discussion remained impersonal, he could enjoy their conversations, so different from any he’d ever had. He and his dad had never talked easily, and the friends he’d acquired by his late teens were interested in drugs, guns, girls and where to get money.
Today, she didn’t reappear immediately, so he started eating. He’d finished his sandwich before he figured out that she didn’t intend to join him. Had he done or said something wrong? Was she sick?
Thinking about it, he realized she’d been quiet this morning, her movements slower than usual and dark circles under her eyes. He’d lain awake and rigid for over an hour after hearing her drive away at two in the morning. Wherever she went, it wasn’t making her happy. This was the third time she’d gone out in the middle of the night since he’d moved into the apartment, and she always seemed withdrawn the next day. This was the first time she’d avoided him during their break, though.
He’d been hungry when he began eating, but he didn’t even open the sandwich bag filled with store-bought cookies he’d intended for dessert. His stomach was too knotted up.
Cole took what was left of his lunch back upstairs to the apartment, leaving it on the counter and using the john. She still hadn’t come out when he returned. Not my business, he told himself, and moved the extension ladder a few feet before grabbing the paint can and brush, and climbing up. Worried about Erin falling that far, he had insisted on painting the eaves.
He moved the ladder twice more without hearing a peep from her before his resolve broke. Cole wiped his hands on a rag and marched up onto the porch and rang the doorbell.
He waited, but heard nothing. His worry intensified. He hammered on the door, waited again. Finally, he reached for the knob, relieved to find she hadn’t locked up. He’d never imagined walking in uninvited, but that was what he did.
The quiet inside the house made it feel uninhabited, even a little eerie.
“Erin?” he called.
Still no response.
He took a few more steps, glancing into rooms that didn’t look used, and raised his voice. “Erin? Where are you?”
This time, he heard a mumbled sound from upstairs. He bounded up, sure she’d hurt herself. Knocked herself out?
Two doors in the hall stood open. The first was a bathroom. The second... He stopped, only peripherally aware of the old-fashioned wallpaper and heavy, dark furniture. His gaze had gone straight to Erin, who must have been lying on the still-made bed. Now she was sitting up, looking dazed.
“Cole?”
“Are you all right?”
She blinked owlishly. “I think I must have fallen asleep.”
So soundly she hadn’t heard the doorbell.
“Damn it!” Frustration and worry exploded from him. “You’ve been like the walking dead all morning! What’s that about?”
Something changed in her expression, and her eyes dilated. It was a minute before she said in an odd tone, “So it shows, huh?”
It shows? Real fear hit him then. Was she dying? Maybe of cancer, and she knew she didn’t have long? That might explain some of her behavior, not to mention her lack of appetite, and why she wasn’t afraid of him. Was the house some kind of final project?
He didn’t even realize he’d crossed the room until he was inches from her. Eyes boring into hers, he said, “Tell me.”
Her chin came up. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You’re baring your teeth.”
Crap. He was. Cole made himself take a couple of deep breaths, scrubbed the heels of his hands over his face and sat on the side of the bed without asking permission first. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “You scared me.”
“What?” She swiveled on the bed to face him, sitting with her legs crossed. “Why?”
“I rang the bell and then pounded on the door. You must have slept right through both. I thought—” He broke off. “I don’t know, that you’d fallen and hit your head or something. And now you’re giving me this shit about being the walking dead?”
“You said it, not me,” she snapped.
“I didn’t mean it literally.”
“I...didn’t, either. Not exactly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She looked away from him. “Just...there are days...”
“And nights.”
Startled, she did meet his eyes. “What do you—Oh. Me going out.”
She hadn’t taken offense yet at him for butting in, so he asked, “Where do you go?”
“I told you. I just drive around.”
If that was the entire truth, her gaze wouldn’t have shied away.
“Waste of gas.”
Her lashes fluttered. “Not my biggest worry.”
“Can I go with you some night?”
“No!”
Seeing her expression of horror, he instinctively retreated. With a nod, he stood, backing away. “I need to get to work.”
“Cole?”
Pretending he hadn’t heard her, he walked out of the room.
* * *
SHE DIDN’T EVEN hear his footsteps in the hall or on the stairs. Erin only knew he’d gone outside when she heard the front door opening and closing.
She’d come so close to telling him. Not about how she taunted death. No, about the accident. Funny, since she’d been so relieved to get away from everyone who knew about it. Would Cole tiptoe around her once he knew, like her friends and colleagues had?
Swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, she realized she still wore her paint-spattered canvas tennis shoes. In this house, nobody put shoes on the furniture or, heaven forbid, on Nanna’s nice bedspread.
“Sorry, Nanna,” she murmured.
Would Cole understand anything she felt? Most of her friends had zilch experience of really bad things happening. Lucky people. If they’d ever seen anyone dead, it was probably an elderly grandparent passing away—and wasn’t that a euphemism—with family gathered around. What she’d heard and seen would be beyond their comprehension. Cole, though... Even if he hadn’t, well, killed anyone, he might have seen awful stuff happening while he was in prison, mightn’t he?
She grimaced as she made herself head for the bathroom.
Why would that help him understand? Even if he’d seen men knifed or beaten, they would have been, if not strangers, at least nobody he’d cared about that much.
And unless he wielded the knife himself or battered someone bloody with his own fists, he wasn’t responsible. It wasn’t his fault.
No, better to keep her confusion and misery to herself. Cole was the one who’d drawn the line separating them. Feeling lonelier than she’d realized, she’d tried to erase it, or at least ignore it. But despite the way he’d opened up at least a little during dinner last night, he’d made it clear that the line was still there.
Catching sight of herself in the mirror on the medicine cabinet, she froze. Wow, she hadn’t looked this bad in a while. Weeks. Since before she’d hired Cole. No wonder he’d seemed shaken.
She leaned closer, tipping her head one way and then the other. Last night had not been good. She’d regressed. She wanted to lie to herself and believe she had no idea why, but she couldn’t.
It was because of him. She felt things for him that were foolish and hopeless and not helpful to her state of mind.
She was still studying the bruises beneath her eyes and the paint she’d managed to get in her hair when a surprising thought surfaced.
Cole had come searching for her. He’d worried about her. No, he said she’d scared him. He’d demanded she tell him what was wrong.
If anybody had stepped over the line, it wasn’t her. And sure, maybe his initial fear was that he’d find her dead and, as an ex-con, he’d be in big trouble. But that didn’t explain why he’d stayed worried once he realized she’d only been asleep.
Right now, all they had was each other. That probably made it inevitable they’d start to care. Didn’t mean it wasn’t temporary, she reminded herself. Even so, she felt a warmth that was at odds with last night’s devastating awareness of how alone she was.
Cole would hate knowing what she did when she went out driving. At least it mattered to one person if she didn’t come back some night. Erin wondered if that would make any difference.