Page 17 of To Bring You Back
“We’d like to help you with the porch and the leak you mentioned.”
Oh. That problem. “We?”
“The church. I called Chip this morning, and he swung by to take a look. He thinks a crew—volunteers from church—could get the old porch out in a weekend. The new porch would go in on weeknights or the following weekend. The whole thing would be totally free to you.”
“I …” She shook her head. “I can’t ask them to do that. It’s too much.”
A click sounded like the main door. Someone must be early for the Monday afternoon Bible study.
Drew continued like he hadn’t heard that or Adeline’s refusal. “He climbed up on the roof. He said the shingles aren’t too bad. He caulked a few places. If that doesn’t stop the leak, let him know.”
“Chip was on my roof?”
Drew grinned. “So you see, there’s no way to stop us. The porch isn’t behind locked doors either.”
“But there are so many people who could use help with house projects. I’m employed and—”
“Don’t tell me you could do the work yourself.”
“I don’t deserve this.” In so many ways. “I’m healthy. I’m young.”
“And you thought paint would fix rotting wood.” He laughed. “You’ve done so much for everyone, and we want to help. Let us.” He stepped backward into the hall, getting ready to leave.
“I really can’t.” At least they weren’t also offering to paint too, but the porch was still too massive a favor to accept. “I think I have a way to cover the cost. Please don’t go ahead with the work.”
Something caught his eye—maybe Rosanne was approaching to make photocopies for the Bible study. He frowned at Adeline as if he wanted to continue the conversation but wouldn’t with a witness. “Remember what we talked about.”
“What we talked about?”
Drew gave Rosanne an odd, curt nod and turned for his own office without asking the longtime member how she was doing.
But it wasn’t Rosanne.
Gannon, with broad shoulders, intense eyes, and each moment of their complex history, appeared in the doorway.
Yesterday, he had had a short beard, but today he was clean-shaven, revealing each of the strong contours that kept landing him on magazine covers. No wonder the press ate up anything he did.
His T-shirt left most of his arms exposed, and as he shut the door behind himself, she glimpsed the wordhonoron his triceps, woven into the mane of the roaring lion. Actually, she could see only the last three letters, but compliments of a magazine cover, she knew the rest.
He pulled the spare chair up to her desk. As he sat, he plunked a black motorcycle helmet beside her keyboard. He must not have worn it long because it hadn’t flattened his hair, which fell across his forehead, unruly and begging for her fingers.
Her burning throat flared hotter at the thought.
He watched as if she’d summoned him and he wanted to know why. Had he somehow sensed her longing to confess the past? He’d been there. Talking to him should be easier than revealing her secrets to others. But confiding in Gannon, whom she never should’ve been close to, would deepen her betrayal of Fitz.
“No bodyguard today?” she asked.
“Tim’s our manager, not a bodyguard. I don’t have security up here yet, but he’s bringing some on.”
She was close enough to see the gold at the center of his irises and the blue-green surrounding it. In the old days, he’d always seemed to have a special reserve of attention for her.
Even now, the intensity of his focus on her belied his casual posture. “Once the guys get here, security will be more necessary.”
“John’s coming?”
“And Matt. But John will want to see you. He asked how you are.”
“I’m good.” She wiped dust from her keyboard with her fingertip. Gaze-avoidance didn’t reinforce her words, though. She met his hazel eyes again.
