Which left me with only one option.
I rose, and after getting ready for the day, I headed up the hill toward Lavender House. It was still early, and the pale morning light did nothing to enhance my confidence that we would actually fix the house up in time. It was a wreck, with a roof that looked more like a suggestion than an actual structural feature, not to mention the windows and front garden. The inside was probably even worse.
I was nearly to the porch when Isobel walked outside, her curls wrapped in a bandanna and a flush across her cheeks. She was so beautiful that she took my breath away, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
Surprise flashed on her face. “Rafe? What are you doing here?”
“I thought about what you said, and if it will get you out of my place sooner, then I’m here to help.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes, and guilt tugged at me. I hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but I didn’t know how to fix it.
She smiled before I could figure it out and said in a cheerful voice, “Excellent. I could use all the help I can get. Come inside.”
She turned and headed through the door. I followed her, careful to keep my eyes off the jeans that clung to her curves. Staring at her arse was absolutely against the rules.
As soon as I entered the foyer, the scent of rotten eggs washed over me.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “The house is ornery. It’s got a personality, and it doesn’t like being in such a terrible state. I’m hoping that fixing it up will calm it down.”
She was right about the state of the place. The foyer was bare, unfinished wood and walls that needed some serious attention. And that was before I even looked at the broken windows.
“I’ve already ordered replacement windows,” she said, “though I’ve no idea how to install them. Yet.”
The confidence in her voice made me smile.
“Do you think you could work on the kitchen?” she asked. “And the bathrooms? They need cabinets, and a boat builder sounds like just the person for the job.”
“I can do that.”
“Excellent. I’ll be around. Shout if you need me.” She turned and headed into another part of the house.
I found the kitchen, which was an empty shell except for the old appliances that had probably been too big for her to lift. I’d have to get those out of there.
It was a nice space, with a view overlooking the green hills behind the house and a large fireplace on one wall. I spent the morning measuring and making plans for the cabinets in the kitchen and all bathrooms, then went in search of Isobel to confirm they were what she wanted.
I found her in the living room, standing on a footstool as she tried to pry a piece of rotten trim off the top of the wall. She jerked it hard, and it came away faster than she expected, because she stumbled.
I reacted on instinct, rushing forward and catching her before she landed on the ground.
“Ooof,” she said.
She felt warm and perfect in my arms as I lowered her to the floor. She turned, gazing up at me, her luminous gray eyes impossible to look away from. “Thank you.”
Her voice was soft, and she was standing so close that her scent washed over me. It took everything I had not to inhale deeply, not to pull her toward me.
“Sure.” I stepped back, putting some much-needed distance between us. “I’ve got some plans for the kitchens and bathrooms I wanted you to approve.”
Delight flashed on her face. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Oh, my gosh, thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” She gestured to the house. “I can do the easy stuff like tearing out old carpet and even refinishing the floors. Although that’s probably not as easy as I think. But building—or even installing—kitchen cabinets is probably beyond me. At least, if I only have a month to learn.”
“Less than a month now.”
“Exactly. Show me the plans.”
We went out onto the porch, and I showed her what I had in mind for her kitchen. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and it was hard not to feel a little of it myself.
It was odd, but nice.
Don’t get used to it, I thought.
After we looked at the plans, I got back to work. The house occasionally made its displeasure known, popping a floorboard under my feet or slamming a door at my arse, but it was easy enough to ignore. The stench was harder, but even that disappeared eventually, as if the house tired of fighting. Or maybe we really were making if feel better, like Isobel hoped.
She brought me a sandwich at some point, but I was lost in the soothing motion of working with wood. Fortunately, I had everything I needed down at the boathouse for my current project, as well as all the tools required to craft the cabinets. I’d started out in cabinetry years ago, once I’d realized that I needed to work with my hands to find peace, and had only recently made my way to boats.
We toiled until it grew dark. I found lanterns and brought them up to the kitchen so that I could keep going, but we’d need to get the electrical up and working as soon as possible.
“Knock, knock.” Isobel’s voice pulled me out of my trance, and I turned. She’d showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a jumper that hung loosely off of one shoulder, and she was so beautiful that I had to glance away. “It’s getting late.”
“Really?” I frowned, looking down at my watch. It was nearly nine-thirty. Surprise flashed through me.
“You’ve been in the zone.” She held up a basket that I hadn’t noticed because I’d been so distracted by her beauty. “I brought you dinner. And a beer.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, don’t get used to it.” She walked toward the middle of the room and pulled a blanket out of her basket, then laid it on the ground.
“Don’t get used to you bringing me dinner?”
“Or a beer.” She pulled one out of the basket and opened it, then handed it to me. “I always did this for my boyfriend. Every night, dinner and a beer as soon as he got home from work. Then I did the washing up.” She sounded disgusted with herself, and I wanted to know more.
“Every night?” I sat on the blanket when she did.
“Yep.” She pulled two paper-wrapped Cornish pasties out of the basket and handed one to me. It was warm from the oven, and I recognized the distinctive crimped crust of Margot’s Tea & Cake Parlor. She must have picked them up earlier in the day and heated them in her oven.
“If you did all that, then what did the miserable sod do?” I asked.
“Mostly just watched footie and took me for granted, I’m realizing now.” She sipped her beer. “But I’m done with him, and I’ve got a new life. I’m not a doormat anymore.”
“A doormat?” A surprised laugh escaped me. “I have a hard time believing you were ever a doormat.”
“Well, I was. Trust me. But I’m getting better. It’s like I just had to wake up and get out of that old life, you know? He was an expert manipulator, Tommy was. I had no idea how well he’d played me until I’d wasted way too much time on him.” There was a hint of sadness to her voice, and it made something violent seethe inside me.