“Okay.” She snuggled deeper under the light blanket and closed her eyes as he gathered his clothes and put them on. He thought maybe she’d gone back to sleep but, as soon as he zipped his jeans, she opened them again and he realized she’d been giving him some privacy to get dressed.
Once he’d dragged his T-shirt over his head and shoved his feet into his sneakers, he leaned over and kissed her—long enough to let her know he’d be back at some point, but just shy of making him want to take the clothes back off. “I’ll lock the door on my way out.”
“See you around,” she said in a sleepy voice, which should have made him happy, because those words were anything but commitment heavy, but slightly less casual wouldn’t have hurt.
After making sure the door was securely closed and locked behind him, Mitch pushed the Harley out into the road and walked it a few feet before firing the engine. Not that it would fool anybody in Whitford for a second, but Paige was probably on her way back to sleep and he didn’t want to disturb her again.
He took it slow on the drive home, letting the night air cool him down, but since he could only go so slow on a motorcycle without falling over, he was back at the lodge way too soon. He didn’t bother cutting the engine and coasting it to the garage. They knew he wasn’t home yet, they knew where he’d been and, unless they’d undergone personality transplants while he was out, he knew Josh would be waiting up to give him shit. Since he was too old to climb the maple and shimmy out onto the limb that reached a window upstairs—assuming the limb hadn’t been cut off or rotted to the point it would give out under his weight—he had no choice but to go in through the door. On the off chance his brother was sitting in the great room again, he went in through the back door, hoping to get through the kitchen and up the stairs before his brother could intercept him on those crutches.
“Must have been one hell of a hairball,” Josh said as soon as Mitch stepped through the door. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a beer with his cast resting casually on a second chair, but the fine sheen of sweat across his forehead told Mitch his younger brother had had to bust ass to beat him there.
“Took a little longer than I expected. Then we had some dinner.”
“What was for dessert?”
Refusing to rise to the bait, Mitch went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “By the time the stuffed chicken breasts and double mashed were gone, I was too full for dessert. What did you have?”
“That’s cold, man.” Josh scowled at his beer. “I had a couple of tuna sandwiches, which sucked, and half a bag of potato chips.”
“Hiring Andy was your idea.”
“Yeah, yeah. You told me so and all that shit. She’ll get over it soon. I hope.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.” It had been decades since Rose had spoken to Andy. Whatever was behind the grudge, it was a very big deal. “What’s going in the morning?”
“We’re going to empty out the barn so we—or you guys, I guess—can start tearing up the floor. Why? You have a breakfast date?”
“Nope. Just gauging how old a T-shirt I should throw on in the morning.”
“Probably one that should have been a shop rag six months ago.”
“Great.” Probably not cool to be jealous of the guy with the crutches. “I’m going upstairs. Need to deal with some email and check over some reports. You all set?”
“Yeah. I’ll hobble up in a few minutes.”
Mitch got as far as responding to an email from Scott Burns, his second in command, before he stretched out on the bed and tucked his hands under his head. Staring up at the old tin ceiling, he thought about Paige. Sometimes, with the thrill of the chase over, the sex was a letdown. Sometimes, even if the sex was good, once was enough to get a woman out of his system.
And sometimes, the reality was even better than the anticipation and he couldn’t wait to see her again. Alone.
Chapter Eleven
“You’re pretty chipper this morning.”
Paige winced and told herself to dial that down a notch or two. The last thing she needed was all of Whitford wondering why she was in such a good mood the morning after Mitch Kowalski had helped her with her plumbing. So to speak.
“My sink drains now,” she said. “It’s a good day when the water you used to rinse the toothpaste out of the sink isn’t going to still be sitting there when you get home from work.”
“The plumber give you that whisker burn, too?”
Paige reached up to her face, horrified. She hadn’t noticed it when she was getting ready for work, so it couldn’t be that bad. But if Katie could see it…
Katie laughed. “Busted. I knew you wouldn’t admit it straight out, but you slept with Mitch Kowalski last night.”
“You have a diabolical mind. So there’s no whisker burn?”
“No. The good people of Whitford will have no idea you were well and truly sullied by their golden boy last night. You were well and truly sullied, right?”
“You’ve heard the stories.”
“Are they true?”
“It’s not like we were doing reenactments, but based on last night I’m going to guess most of them are true.”