Cordy’s curiosity sat up and pricked its ears just like Iggy did. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, all those boys are messed up. Don’t think you can fix any of them.”
God, but that was bleak. Especially coming from someone married to one of them. Did Ruby genuinely think Quint was broken? Had she tried to “fix him” and failed? Did that explain the odd currents between them?
And what had made the entire family like that?
Cordy looked out the bedroom window to see Chance unloading the flatbed. He smiled as he handed boxes to Rye, looking impossibly handsome. In only a few days, he’d completely solved her housing issues and gotten her entire apartment moved. When she needed a partner for this class, he’d been there.
That was certainly a lot for a man Ruby called “emotionally constipated.” He was still a tomcat, no doubt about that, but he was a tomcat with deep feelings.
It turned out that Chance’s friendship had come to mean more to Cordy than most of the relationships she’d ever had.
“I don’t want to fix him,” Cordy said. Chance glanced over and caught her watching. A slow smile spread over his face, just for her. “I like him the way he is.”
ten
Chance wasn’t exactly regretting lettingCordy move into his place, but the doubts were creeping in. And she’d only just arrived this morning.
Finding the electric kettle on his countertop was the first trigger. At least, Chance assumed the thing was a kettle, with its vague teapot shape. Otherwise, he had no idea what it did. He wasn’t one to buy a lot of kitchen gadgets. He hardly ever used the kitchen, preferring to grill most of his meals. Easier to clean up.
They’d moved her things into his house in only a few hours—she wasn’t one to collect a lot of crap. He’d felt like she ought to have more, that there wasn’t enough in her house to keep a person comfortable. But it wasn’t his place to say.
Once the boxes and furniture were inside, his brothers and Ruby had taken off. Chance didn’t know what Ruby and Cordy had been whispering about. He prayed Ruby had stuck to gossip about Glenn and Justin and not gotten into messy Kessal family history. Cordy hadn’t run away screaming, so probably not.
Ruby likely hadn’t said anything about Hailey or the Saxons either because she and Cordy had been cozy the whole time.If Ruby had given Cordy an earful of complaints straight from Hailey, Cordy wouldn’t have stood for it.
If Chance had to guess based on their farewell hug, Cordy and Ruby were now friends. Good friends. Imagine that.
Cordy had unpacked her boxes with an efficiency that scared him. She hadn’t been lying—she was a pro at moving. She could pack up and be out as easy as she’d come in.
This morning, the house had been entirely Chance’s own. Four hours later, Cordy had made herself at home.
He told himself that was good as he stared at the kettle. He wanted her to be comfortable and safe. Except that his instinct for self-preservation screamed at him to get her out of there.
There was a woman in his space. Chance had never even had a woman stay the night, much less move in.This is bad,saida nasty inner voice.This is how you end up like all the other Kessal men, too damn in love to save yourself.
He left the kitchen and blindly walked into the living room. The second trigger was a pretty paisley throw blanket Cordy had draped over his plain gray couch. She must have picked that up on her travels.
It was sitting on his furniture like it had come home.
Chance forced himself to breathe. It was pretty, yes, and it looked softer than goose down, and the couch needed something more… but he would not get attached to that blanket. It wasn’t sticking around.
He flexed his fingers. It was fine. He’d be fine.
“You need anything?” he called down the hall to Cordy’s room.
While they’d been moving her stuff, the two of them had been very careful to only talk about logistics and not meet each other’s eyes. Having his brothers around had helped with the awkwardness.
Now, there was no avoiding it… or her. They were living together.
“I’m okay.” She came out with a rag in her hand. Her pretty auburn hair was caught up in a scarf, and she looked too damn good for words.
He came to the awful realization that a pregnant Cordelia Johnson in dingy cutoffs and a tattered tank top, with a smear of dust under her cheek, looked more enticing than any woman Chance had ever seen.
That was trigger number three. It split him right apart.
“I’ll go start dinner,” he said, backing out of the room. He almost tripped over his own damn feet, he went so fast.
