Page 8 of Wildfire
My chest convulses with laughter. "I'm from the coast. They might be strange, but they eat off plates just like your, um, people."
He throws up his hands in resignation. "No judgments here."
We bring in my boxes of tools and then pull my guitar, blanket, and two duffle bags upstairs. At the top of the stairs, he opens the door to a perfect little light-filled studio. There is a bed in one corner next to an armoire, a big cozy chair with a bookshelf and lamp, a little island separating the space from the small kitchen, and two doors leading out.
"This one is the bathroom." He opens it up to reveal a simple bathroom. "And this one is the deck."
I follow him out onto a deck facing the water. "You can't see this from the driveway. It's nice out here."
"I'll bring you a table and chair so you can come out here for your tea. Which I don't have, so I'll have to get you some in town. Do you want to write down some essentials?"
"Cole, I can get it. I'll just walk down there when you go to the firehouse. It's only a couple of miles."
"I'm happy to do it."
"You've done enough, really. And I want to repay you somehow. Can I do something around here to earn my keep? Mow the lawn, cook, clean, or something?"
"You don't have to earn your keep."
"I'm uncomfortable staying here unless you give me something to do."
"Well, you saw how clean the garage was."
"Yes."
"House is just as clean."
"What about cooking?"
"I'm pretty good at that, too."
"How come you aren't married, Cole?"
He blinks his eyes at me like I just smacked him on the nose.
"Why…why do you ask?"
"You cook AND clean, and you probably rescue cats out of trees all while looking like this." I wave my hand in front of him. "You should have been snatched up a long time ago."
He stares at me hard for a moment, and I start chewing on my lip.
I may have crossed another line.
"Just haven't found the right woman."
I step back into the studio apartment, trying to distance myself from the hiccup I caused. "That's the trouble with small towns, isn't it?"
"Ready to go see about a job?" He is standing right behind me, and instead of startling me, it perks me up. I like being in his orbit.
"I know it's hot out, but I want to throw on some pants. Can you give me a second?"
"I'll wait downstairs."
I dig through my duffel bag to find my Carharts. I kick off my boots and wiggle them on, admiring myself in the mirror hanging from the armoire's front. Even though I'm good at what I do, wearing these jeans doesn't hurt my chances. Men take a while to warm up to the idea of a female carpenter. I don't want my potential new boss to get all gropey if I show up in my cutoffs, but I still want to look eye-watering.
I grab a flannel for later and stuff it in my backpack with my wallet. I glance at my phone and notice my brother texted asking where the hell I am. I drop the phone into the pack and head out the door.
Cole is leaning against the truck, talking to someone on his cell. He sees me coming down the stairs, and a smile spreads across his face. I don't think anyone has ever looked at me like that. Like, he's delighted to see me and not because I'm going to rub on his cock after a cheap, greasy meal or because I'm vacuuming under his ass. It's like he's actually happy to see me—the guy who still hasn't told me what I can do to earn my keep.
