Page 52 of Lemon Crush

“I could give it a try,” I finally said, “but I’m not taking any money. We’d trade in services, hour for hour, straight across.”

“I feel like I’m getting the better end of this, but it’s a deal.” After a moment, he added with feeling, “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

“Me too, Wade,” I whispered back. And I really meant it.

An easy peace settled over us. Shockingly easy. Even my revved-up Mrs. Roper hormones, after being thwarted, had decided to take a break to enjoy the sense of safety and warmth and rightness I felt as I turned over and pressed my back to his side. Closing my eyes, I listened to his deep, even breathing and smiled ruefully. Thus ended my only-one-bed scenario. Utterly sexless but strangely productive.

And as I drifted off, I realized the winds had stilled and rain was no longer slashing against the windows. The storm was finally passing.

On the third morning after Tree-mageddon, I woke up bright and early, brewed a strong cup of coffee and sat on the back porch with Merlin while giving my fully charged phone the attention it deserved. In celebration of the internet being on again, I spent an entire hour brainlessly thumbing through my favorite content creators on social media.

Sufficiently fortified with caffeine and silly animal videos, I went inside to shower to get ready for my adventures in bookkeeping. I’d actually taken an hour-long, blissfully hot shower the night before, when the power finally clicked back on in all its buzzing glory, but this would be my first foray into the wilds of humanity after my long hibernation, and I needed the confidence boost that came with looking my best.

The morning after the storm, both Wade and Lucy haddisappeared with the rising sun and receding water. An hour later, Rick had stopped by with another generator for the main house. Even better, he’d brought friends who lifted the tree off my house with a skid steer and a mini excavator and then covered my roof with a more professional tarp, free of charge.

He’d also taken Tilly and Angus to Bernie’s, saying, “They’ve got power, and you’ve got enough to deal with.”

I might have cried and told him he was my new best friend. He’d pretended to be uncomfortable with my full-contact hugging style, holding his arms stiffly at his sides, but I could tell he was pleased. Way down deep, beneath his ten percent body fat, where he kept those emotions I imagined he had.

After he left, I wasn’t ready to be alone with my thoughts, so I’d straightened up the courtyard and skimmed the pool, then gone back to work on my laptop with a fierce new energy. It was amazing what I could accomplish when I had nothing else to distract me.

Literallynothingelse. No phone calls or texting, no streaming or social networking.

No Wade.

I’d barely gotten a glimpse of him since the pool of honest hotness and our one-bed fail. He’d shoved off the mattress before I was even half awake, muttered something about his tow truck and joining Lucy, and then made himself scarce. I knew he came back to sleep, but I’d only seen him once, popping in with a couple of his employees long enough to trade out Mom’s bed for his cushy-looking king.

No judgment on that score. My back was still recovering, and I’d only spent one night on the torture rack.

But he was avoiding me, exactly the way I’d known he would. And the longer he stayed away, the more I wanted to press the issue. I was armed with new information now. Wade wanted me back. At least, a little bit. Knowing that changed things.

Does it really?

I wanted it to. And not only for writing inspiration, since while he was out saving the neighborhood, I was using the generator to keep my laptop powered and working on my two wildly different WIPs almost continuously.

Did you catch that? I was working on my contracted book too. It was a hurricane miracle. I was right about the reluctant-father addition, and after that, everything else had started falling into place. I wanted to say it was proof that my mojo was officially back, but I was afraid to think about it too much in case the rug got yanked out from under me again.

I stepped out of the shower and was drying off when Chick decided to call.

“You’re still keeping secrets,” was his greeting when I put him on speaker. “My sunshine senses are tingling.”

Holding the towel around my body, I pawed through my closet for something that wasn’t shorts or pajamas. “Women always have secrets, Chick.”

“You don’t. Not from me. But based on the amazingly hot pages you sent me last night, you’ve started keeping them and they’re undoubtably salacious. What really happened during the hurricane?” He sounded off. He was trying to cover it up with this interrogation, but I knew him too well. “Admit that you finally seduced your tweeny-bopper crush and ended the longest episode of not-getting-any it’s ever been my horror to witness. Tell me that’s what happened instead of theLittle House on the Prairieversion you tried to sell me yesterday.”

Chick knew about the slumber party, because when cellular service was restored, my phone had immediately started buzzing with multiple messages from both him and my sister.

Morgan: Ann left a message that the dogs are with you, but I can’t get ahold of you or anyone else. I’ll see if I can call you from the boat. Please stay safe.

Chick: I’m seeing pictures online that are scaring me, sunshine. Pick up the phone, okay?

Morgan: Gene called Rick from the ship. A tree?! Thank God you’re okay. Call your insurance provider ASAP and take pictures of everything for the adjuster. I also know a general contractor in the neighborhood that could start right away. Text me as soon as you can and I’ll give you his information.

Chick: If I have to hire a boat driven by sexy Navy Seals to bring you a new phone, I’ll do it. How can you not have service?

I’d responded to Morgan’s texts first, avoiding any mention of Wade and focusing instead on Lucy’s heroics, asking her to thank Gene for having such incredible friends. Her string of orders might have gotten under my skin a little, but a general contractor would be a good person to know and I was thrilled to have contact again, so I let it slide.

Then I’d texted Chick and played up the craziness of three middle-aged adults and three dogs sharing a tiny one-bedroom apartment, keeping mentions of Wade to a minimum. I was worried I’d overshare, and it wasn’t really the right time to talk about pool confessions and cuddle sessions.

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