Page 42 of Lemon Crush

When I passed through the living room on my way to the kitchen, flashlight in hand, I saw Morgan’s dogs passed out adorably on the floor while Merlin lounged on the couch, watching me with what I decided was amusement.

“Can you believe these lightweights?”

They didn’t have his tolerance when it came to CBD treats, but I wasn’t worried. They’d be fine, and Auntie August needed a time-out after her roof literally crashed down around her. Fine, there was only a hole in it, but at the time it had sounded like the whole house was caving in. I was still recovering from that initial rush of terror.

I grabbed two bottles of water and set them both on the island along with the large box of pizza I’d ordered around lunchtime. The electric candles I’d pulled out from under the sink weregiving off a soft, peaceful glow and, in spite of the situation, I tried to relax.

It wasn’t raining in my house anymore, thanks to Wade. I hadn’t planned to talk to him again for a while, but I wasn’t sure I could have fixed this on my own. I hadn’t even remembered I had a chainsaw until I saw it in his hands.

My laugh sounded mildly hysterical in the quiet room. I couldn’t help it. I’d already been on the edge with his negative reaction to my plan and the arrival of the dogs. But having a tree crash into my house a week after I’d decided to sell it might have broken me.

“Want to share the joke?”

My heart stumbled and did a slow flip when he walked into the room in dark-gray board shorts and a clean, short-sleeved shirt. I’d seen him shirtless from a distance yesterday, but I wasn’t ready for how approachable he looked like this. Damp hair curling against his neck. Calves several shades paler than the rest of him, but still well defined enough to be impressive. His big bare feet.

Don’t start liking feet now, weirdo.

“I’m only losing my mind. Nothing to worry about.” I pushed the pizza across the counter toward him, my own slice already folded in my hand. “Your boon, mighty Tree Slayer. You’ve earned it.”

“Much appreciated.” He smiled before taking a large bite of the cold sausage and pepperoni.

I looked away after realizing I was watching him chew and swallow as if it were some sort of sex show and focused on my own plate. We each ate a second slice in silence, the storm only occasionally rattling the walls, which I hoped meant it was passing.

He was the one to break the silence. “Your stair railing has a wobble in it.”

Of course he’d noticed that. “It’s on the list. I’ll get to it soon.”

“You have a list?” At my nod, he licked the sauce off his lips, drawing my unwilling gaze. I handed him a paper towel to save me from temptation. “Good. You should let me take a look at it. Maybe I can help you knock a few of those items out while I’m here.”

There it was. “I already owe you for tonight, Mister Fix-it. I don’t need any help getting this place ready for sale.” Well, that was a lie. “No playing fast and loose with the rules just because you saved us.”

He wiped his mouth, his eyes dark and serious. “We’ll talk about it later. As for tonight, if it helps, you can consider it my payment for the debt I owed you.”

“What debt?”

“I crossed the line yesterday. It isn’t my place to tell you what you can and can’t do. I was worried and it was a knee-jerk reaction, but I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

The full-throated apology took me off guard. In all our years together, my ex had never apologized for anything he’d gotten wrong. Not for a botched menu order, or throwing a party while I was on deadline. Certainly not for sleeping with another woman in our bed. Not once had an “I’m sorry”evercrossed his lips, unless it was dialogue he was memorizing. It had been a worldview-shifting moment for me when I finally realized that. Other than sociopaths, what kind of person never said they were sorry?

And here was Wade, this overtly masculine archetype made of calluses, granite and grunts, sitting in my kitchen and sincerely apologizing over pizza.

I tipped my head in acknowledgement. “I accept and your debt is paid, because without you I’d be trying to make a life raft for myself and three dogs out of my air mattress and some twine.”

“You would have figured something out, but I’m glad you didn’t haveto.”

Since my anger at him and my frustration with the storm had both fizzled, sitting in the dark together suddenly felt too intimate. It reminded me of all the writing I’d been doing this week.

There were so many parallels in the story it was eerie. It was an ice storm, not a hurricane, but they’d still lost power. Cade, the hero, had saved the day, so she’d let him in and lit a fire to warm him up. And then?—

I stood up abruptly, tossing our paper plates in the trash and then lifting my hair with one hand to fan my neck with the other. I was hot, so it wasn’t a lie. But I could use it as an excuse to give us both some distance.

“Now that the drama is over,” I said lightly, “I think I might take the kids and go sit in Myrtle. She still has AC.”

His look made me feel like I was under a microscope. “It’s not that hot,” he finally said.

“If you were a collie or a woman my age, you wouldn’t be so dismissive,” I teased awkwardly. “I don’t know how people live here when the only two seasons are humid rainforest and hurricane.”

“We manage.”

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