Page 12 of Tear Me to Pieces
“Then maybe you should let me handle some shit for you while I’m here.” I try to gauge her reaction, but Myra’s expression doesn’t give much away. “I’ve got plenty of time to work on your house. It’ll give me something to do besides sitting around all day staring at the walls.”
Myra pinches her lower lip between her teeth, like she’s genuinely mulling over my offer. “That’s really nice of you, but...” She drifts off, like she doesn’t really want to turn me down.
And again, I jump at the opportunity. “But, what?” I flash her a grin. “You’d rather see what happens when I go stir crazy?”
Myra huffs out a little laugh. “It’s not that.”
“You’re worried about the quality of my craftsmanship then.” I set down my plate because I just realized I didn’t bring either of us anything to drink since I assumed she’d have something at her place. “Because I can give you references, and one of them is your brother-in-law.” Opening my fridge, I pull out two bottles of water and carry them back to the couch, passing one to Myra. “The other is your next-door neighbor.”
Myra shakes her head. “It’s not that either.”
I wait as she opens her bottle and swallows down a few long drinks. Once she’s done, I lift my brows. “What is it, then?”
Myra sighs, the sound long and loud as I wait for her to spill a little more of the insight I desperately want.
“A renovation is a big, messy, labor-intensive undertaking.” Her blue eyes meet mine before falling away. “And then there’s the cost…”
“I’m cheap labor, if that helps at all.” I open my own bottle of water. “And I know a guy who could help us get some pretty good deals on materials.”
Myra’s house being in the state it’s in is even more surprising considering Christian’s her brother-in-law. He would do anything for Lydia, and that includes making sure her sister is taken care of.
“I know. Christian actually got me all the stuff in my kitchen.” Myra’s expression turns downcast. “But I don’t want him to feel like I’m using him.” Her eyes come to me. “I don’t want you to feel that way either.”
“Awfully bold of you to assume I don’t like being used.” The flirtatious remark slides out before I can stop it. My mouth always gets me into trouble. It’s a fucking miracle I haven’t screwed up before now. I have a habit of falling hard and fast, and I’m not the kind of guy who can play it cool. I’m all-in right out of the gate, and that can be a lot.
It can also land me with a broken heart. Has once or twice.
But Myra doesn’t seem phased by my suggestion. She’s back to studying me, lower lip pinched between her teeth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Her eyes fall to her empty plate. “You’re definitely a good influence on me.” She gives me a shy sort of smile. “On my stomach anyway.”
I take her plate, stacking it on mine. “Happy to be of service.”
I would very much like to serve her in any way she wants or needs. Any time. Any place. Have been fighting that desire for the better part of six months.
Maybe a year.
I attempted to convince myself otherwise the entire drive here, but I’m not even twelve hours into being around her and I’m already bracing to jump in with both feet. Because I’m a fucking idiot. An idiot who fully intends to do one thing, but actually does another. Almost every fucking time.
Thankfully, I miraculously manage to seal my dumbass lips together, stopping myself from offering to pay for the renovation myself. Myra spent her whole life being controlled by overbearing men. The last thing she needs—or likely wants—is another one.
No matter how well-meaning.
“I should probably go.” She wipes both palms down the black pants she wore to work, and I mentally kick myself for not even giving her the time to change into something comfortable. “I don’t want to monopolize your whole evening.”
Again, I miraculously keep my mouth shut. Stop myself from telling her she can monopolize as much of me as she wants. I think I deserve a pat on the back for that accomplishment.
I follow her as she gets up and goes to the door, watching as she steps out into the night.
My feet start moving all on their own, taking me out into the darkness after her. “I’ll walk you home.” I close the door behind me and blink at the nearly complete blackness around us.
“Wow.” A hand lands on my shoulder. “I didn’t realize how dark it is back here at night.”
Every cell in my body focuses on where she’s touching me. “Neither did I.” Digging into my pocket, I pull out my phone and switch on the flashlight. “Better?”
“Much.” Myra lets out a little breath. “I guess it’s a good thing you decided to follow me home.”
I’m going to have to disagree with her on that. Nothing I’m doing where Myra is concerned is a good idea. In fact, it’s probably the worst fucking idea I’ve had. And I’ve had some bad fucking ideas.
