Jeremy watched Chelsea from across the living room as he held the white crown molding against the wall, lining it up to see what it looked like. It was going to match the fireplace perfectly. After the drive-by three days ago, they’d been on overdrive to get the living room put back together. They’d replaced the broken windows, plastered the bullet holes, and repainted. The room was coming back to life.
Chelsea hadn’t been much of a talker these past few days.
Instead, she’d been single-mindedly focused on finishing everything as quickly as possible. Jeremy couldn’t help but think it was because she was racing against some kind of inner clock. He was losing any grip he had on her. She had a certain air that screamed defeat, but if he had anything to say about it, she’d never lose. It would help if she would just trust him and tell him what he needed to know instead of leaving him to fill in the blanks himself. He knew he could fix this with minimum damage.
Aside from the inn.
Then they could continue reconnecting. There had been a few passionate kisses here and there, but for the most part, she was still holding him at arm’s length. What she didn’t know was that he was scared, too. But that’s when you know it’s real.
When it scares the shit outta you.
“Jeremy?”
He snapped himself back to the present. “Yeah?”
“You mentioned wanting to stick around here, while working remotely. Said you wanted to live in a small town again. Right?”
He swallowed. “Right.”
She stroked the brush over the mantel, leaving it a shiny antique white. Paul had been right. It complemented the peach walls perfectly. “Well…if I had to leave again for, for reasons, would you keep working on this place, bringing it back to life even if I wasn’t here?”
He froze, staring at her, his heart pounding. And there it was, the confirmation that she was planning something that would result in her leaving all this work undone. “Of course, I’ll do whatever you need me to do. But where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” She stroked the brush again, still not looking at him. “Just hypothetically thinking out loud.”
Bullshit. She was up to something. While he was honored she trusted him enough to leave the inn in his hands, he’d rather she trusted him with the goddamn truth about why she was running away…again. “Did the cops come by yesterday?” he asked casually.
She nodded, staring at the mantel as she ran the paintbrush over a spot she’d missed. “Yep.”
“I heard the investigation into those joyriding kids didn’t pan out, and they still don’t know who shot at us. Did they give you any new details? Something that sparked these hypothetical thoughts you’re having?”
She stiffened at that last part. “Nope. I told them that I moved here to fix up the inn, and that my place got shot up.” She swiped the brush across the mantel harder. “That’s all I know, so that’s all I told them. End of story.”
Jeremy gritted his teeth. Enough was enough already. Obviously, she trusted him enough to put him in charge of the inn. Now she needed to trust him with her secrets, too. “Really, Chels? After all this time, you still won’t let me in, not even a little?”
“I don’t know why you keep asking me about this. You were there! You saw everything I did. Maybe even more.” She turned around, her cheeks slightly red and her lips parted. “You’re turning out to be a lousy worker, more interested in gossip than actually helping. Are you going to nail those strips of molding to the wall, or are you hoping they magically attach themselves?”
He threw the wood down and held his hands out at his sides. “I don’t know. You seem to believe in the impossible, as if I wouldn’t remember that your voice goes up when you lie, so maybe you believe in magic, too. Or, better yet, maybe you could, I don’t know, tell me the truth. Why do you need a caretaker for the inn? You running away again?”
For a second, just a brief fucking second, she opened her mouth, and he thought she was going to finally talk. But then she closed it, shrugged, and shot down his hopes with a single word. “Whatever.”
When she turned back to the mantel, ignoring him again, something inside him snapped. He stalked across the room, rage consuming him, and spun her around by the shoulder. “Damn it! Stop ignoring me. I’m trying to save your ass, and you won’t let me.”
Her nostrils flared. “No one asked you to ride back into my life on some quest to save me. I don’t need you, or any other man, trying to be my knight in shining armor. I can defeat my own dragons, thank you very much.”
Suddenly she looked more alive than she had in days. So that was the way to get her talking. Piss her off. Luckily, he was good at that. He gestured to the formerly shot-up wall and said, “Looks like you suck at it.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she pointed an angry finger at him. “Screw you. You think you can just come in here and the world will arrange itself to your will, that everything will be sunshine and rainbows just because you say so. Guess what? It doesn’t matter if you’re a good person or if you try to do the right thing, because evil will triumph over goodness every time. And I hate…I hate.…” A frustrated sound escaped her, and she stomped her foot, just like she used to do when they were younger. Just like she had ten years ago, when she told him she loved him and that he was a fool for agreeing to marry someone else. “I hate you.”
He did the same thing he had done all those years ago, when she said those same three words to him. Growling, he wrapped his arms around her, hauling her against his chest, burying his fingers in her hair and splaying the other hand across her back.
“Yeah, well, I love you. So tough shit.” The second he said it, he knew he had made a huge mistake. Chelsea and feelings didn’t mix, and he was going to scare her off before he had a chance to save her life. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, and he did the one thing guaranteed to shut her up.
He kissed her.