“Oh?” he repeated wryly. “That’s profound. Aren’t you the one of us who’s supposed to be brilliant with words?”
I nodded, then shook my head, then nodded again. “I am, but I’m not… I don’t…” I looked away, pressing my lips together, and admitted, “I’m starting to think I might be better at telling other people’s stories than my own.”
He laughed out loud. “Well, then… sounds like we’re both in over our heads, baby.”
I laughed, too, though it came out a little shaky. I couldn’t remember anyone calling mebabybefore. I sure as fuck couldn’t remember wanting them to. “So… what do we do now?” I asked softly.
“Now…” He shrugged. “I finish your renovation. You finish your article and solve our Jam Cupboard Mystery.” Brewer gave me a half smile. He lifted one huge hand to my face and brushed something—plaster dust, probably—off my cheek with the gentlest caress. Then he adjusted my glasses. “And then you go to your next big story, and I go to Reed and Chris’s kitchen renovation.”
I wanted to argue, to push, to demand more… but I could tell he’d made up his mind. The rejection was sharp and brutal.
“Right,” I said. I cleared my throat. “Yes. Good. Because Idohave a very important trip to Costa Rica coming up. Tourists are disappearing, and I need to find out why.”
“Sounds exciting,” Brewer said easily.
“It is. Itisexciting,” I insisted. “Very. My career and my reputation are very important to me, too, you know.”
He nodded. “So, then… friends, sort of?”
I smiled. “Friends, sort of,” I echoed, the word feeling hollow in my mouth.
After all, what else could we be?
I had a mystery to solve, an article to write, and a whole fucking life to figure out… and Brewer had promises to keep.
But first, it seemed like the hurricane wasn’t done with either one of us.
CHAPTERTEN
BREWER
I knewWatt’s snowblower was wrecked the moment I turned it on and heard a grinding sound, followed by a clunk that rippled through the machine like it was having a heart attack.
“Jesus.” I flipped the switch off, then crouched down to peer under the housing. “What the hell did Jasper do to this thing?”
“I told him not to try clearing slush with it.” Watt Bartlett handed me a crescent wrench from the tool kit we’d spread on his garage floor. “But he was trying to surprise me, and… Well. Surprise.”
I snorted. “You let the California boy loose on the wet New York snow? Recipe for disaster.” I accepted the wrench, but my mind wasn’t fully on the conversation or the repair. Or my unexpected reputation for being the town’s “Snowblower Expert” after I’d accidentally fixed one for the Ross family two winters ago. Instead, my thoughts kept bouncing around like a pinball, replaying the events of the last couple of days.
Delaney’s face in the firelight. The jam cupboard discovery. The way Delaney’s naked body had felt against mine. The hurt in his eyes when I’d explained why we couldn’t be more than contractor and client.
“Hey. Earth to Brewer.” Watt crouched beside me and waved one large glove in my face. “You still with me?”
“Sorry.” I blinked. “What were you saying?”
“Asked if you need the Phillips head.”
“Oh. Yeah, thanks.” I accepted the screwdriver and started removing the housing plate, trying to focus.
Thiswas why I was here. Because Watt had called explaining in a slightly desperate tone that they’d only had the snowblower a month, and Jasper had tried to be helpful, and now there was something smoking and stuck, and could I please save them from having to buy a new one?
Of course I’d said yes. I liked being helpful. I liked fixing things.
I also liked not spending my afternoon coming up with reasons to casually stroll past Delaney’s office and then physically forcing myself not to act on them.
“Shit,” I muttered when the plate came off, revealing the damage inside. “It looks like he sucked up a chunk of wet cardboard?”
Watt sighed. “Don’t ask your teenager to take out the recycling when he’s talking to a guy he might or might not have a crush on. Lesson learned.”
