Something must have shown on my face because Nana stepped further into the apartment, looking concerned.
“There’s nothing wrong with them not knowing the ABC’s, yet. Four and five is just the right age to start learning. I have so many of my old materials left, and, frankly, I miss working with children. I thought I would offer.”
Emmitt’s comment came back to me. Who better to teach them than a teacher? I reluctantly nodded and promised to send Aden down as soon as we finished the cookies. He felt strongly that he needed to help make them for Jim.
When he tromped downstairs a while later, I sighed. As much as they drove me nuts, they also kept me company. With nothing else to do, I lounged on the couch and read the book I’d borrowed. Their enthusiastic singing echoed the halls as the oven warmed the apartment to unbearable. Baking cookies in summer was not a good idea.
Sweating, I tossed the book aside and changed into my swimsuit. I opened all the windows and doors to let out the heat. When I opened the French doors to the porch, a nice breeze shifted past me, and I stepped outside. Protected by the overhanging roof, shade cooled the wooden deck. I stood there for a moment letting the wind tease my skin and realized I’d found the perfect place to read.
I went back inside, took the last batch of cookies from the oven, then grabbed my book and blanket. The porch didn’t just give me a cool place to read. It also muffled the boys’ boisterous singing. I relaxed on the blanket and enjoyed the breeze.
An hour later, Emmitt stepped onto the porch from the door of the adjoining apartment. I glanced up from the book. When he saw me, he paused. He was laden with paint cans, rollers, and plastic and looked like he could use a hand.
“Let me help,” I said, jumping up. I took two of the cans from his hands and smiled up at him.
His face flushed. He swallowed hard and glanced down at what I wore.
I pretended not to notice his reaction and lifted a can. “What are you doing with all of this?”
He met my eyes again, and his voice was rough when he spoke.
“The outside needs painting, too. I thought I’d start on it while the paint dried in there.”
He gave me one last look, turned, and walked to the far corner of the porch where he set down the painting supplies.
“Is the apartment almost done?” I asked as I trailed behind him. I set the two cans next to his pile.
“I still need to work on some plumbing, but its close. Want to see it?” he said, looking at me once more. The flush had faded, but he was careful to maintain eye contact. The steady look made it hard to pretend I didn’t feel underdressed.
“That’s okay.”
“I could actually use your input on the colors in the bathroom. Nana bought a variety of cans on clearance, and I’m down to a yellow and a grey.”
The idea of talking about paint colors shouldn’t have caused my stomach to dip or a pink flush to spread across my skin. Yet, it did. I pushed down the jitters, resisted the urge to tug at the edges of the bikini top, and nodded.
He smiled at me. His dimple made my heart stop. He extended a hand to indicate I should lead. I turned and walked to the apartment’s porch entrance. The door led into a large, open-concept living room and kitchen. Thick, clear plastic covered the beige carpet immediately inside the door, protecting it from paint spills. White speckles already decorated it from painting the ceiling. He had painted the wall dividing the living room and kitchen from the rest of the apartment a dark brown. A warm, light brown coated the remaining walls. The main door to the apartment was located just inside the kitchen area where the beige carpet transitioned into large earth-toned tiles.
“Wow. This looks great.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said quietly. “Let me show you the bathroom.”
He led me to the hallway where an orphaned toilet waited for installation. He stopped just outside the bathroom door.
“We can’t go in. The grout is still wet, but you can see the colors in the tile from here.”
He moved aside so I could lean against the wall and peek into the room.
In the process of leaning forward to look, I knocked over a loose piece of molding. It tipped inward toward the newly grouted floor. I didn’t even have time to wince before Emmitt snapped it out of the air, impossibly fast. The move reminded me of our differences, and a tiny bit of fear grew in the pit of my stomach as I recalled how quickly Frank had leapt over the table to claim his right to scent me first.
A shudder ran through me.
“Don’t,” Emmitt whispered hoarsely.
I turned to him, confused.
“You are the one person who will never have to fear me.”
Fear him, why would he say that? Usually, I just felt confused. Like now. The only time I felt fear around him, I’d ended up kicking him in the...
“I’m sorry I kneed you.”
He reached out and gently touched my cheek, feathering his fingertips over it from temple to jaw. My heart started to beat faster.