tossing it to her. “You forgot something. Didn't mean to scare you."
She wiggled the board menacingly at him. “Keep your distance."
“Look. I'm not going to hurt you. I want outta here too."
Finally, her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. “Okay."
If she recognized him, she sure played it cool. His whooziness returned, but he gritted his teeth against the temptation of mentioning anything that might draw her close to his face again.
He said, “I'll hoist you up. You find that screw or something to grab onto. Then use this shoulder to step on.” He nodded toward his healthy shoulder.
She stepped over, her head at an odd tilt when she looked at him. Following his orders, though, she allowed him to lift her, all that sweet, thick hair of hers showering back into his face, making him smile.
Soon she peered back down from above, freed. “I'll go get some tools to undo that door,” she said, her hair raining down over one shoulder at him.
Afraid she'd bring that sheriff, he sniped, “No!"
She sucked in her breath. Her wildflower smell wafted over him again, almost buckling his knees. Not daring to look up into her face, he said, “Get my knife. I left it with my backpack on the verandah."
“So that's where it is."
A fever slammed through him again like a Florida hurricane. “Sounds like you had busy hands while I slept."
She blushed. “Oh, don't worry. Everything was strictly professional. What do I do with the knife?"
“That door is probably swollen. If you can pry the knife in, I might be able to bust the door loose by pushing at it from this side. Try the hinges, too. See if you can loosen them with the knife."
“You can't make it up those steps and shove at that door without falling."
“Then you hop back down here, lift me up through the hole, and you can shoulder the door while I carve."
“Very funny. I was concerned for your health."
“Are you always this worried about an old hobo? Your life can't be that dull, lady."
She quickly looked away, but he'd seen the odd wince tie up the corner of her mouth before she could stop it. He found that reaction curious, but then her shoulders grew rigid again. “I want you out and on your way, is all. I've got better things to do with my life than watch you hit your head on the cellar floor. You're filthy and you don't belong here."
For some reason, her brusqueness wounded him. He grumbled at her though, “All the women tell me that."
“Stuff it,” she said, almost sounding the way he remembered her. He grinned to himself.
The cellar door soon budged for them, and Cole staggered onto the verandah but she quickly stood sentry in the weedy yard, clutching his knife, her eyes wide with fright again.
Never in his life had his mere presence frightened a woman. As a speedboat racer spending plenty of time on famous beaches, he was used to the opposite reaction from women.
He couldn't take his eyes off the way the morning's rays set her hair aflame. She was a treasure. Or a Pandora's box, he reminded himself. Don't touch. She's not the reason you're here, buddy. You don't want to hurt her. Don't get her involved . Except to help his head. It ached right now. Bigtime.
“Do you have any aspirin on you?” he asked.
“I could take you to Dresden in my boat,” she said, to his surprise.
“No thanks.” He didn't need to accidentally run into her father or the sheriff. Another Pandora's box.
“A fever with that leg isn't something to ignore."
“I'll give it a good dunking in the cold lake. That should do the trick."
Aghast, she lowered the knife a little. “That won't keep the swelling down forever."
He grunted, keeping his voice low. “I'll catch some rest and be on my way. A few days okay?"
“Better make it sooner than that,” she said, gesturing with the knife.
“And why's that?"
“Because the fire department's coming out soon to burn this place down. They're just waiting for the final say-so from the sheriff and a local
She wiggled the board menacingly at him. “Keep your distance."
“Look. I'm not going to hurt you. I want outta here too."
Finally, her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. “Okay."
If she recognized him, she sure played it cool. His whooziness returned, but he gritted his teeth against the temptation of mentioning anything that might draw her close to his face again.
He said, “I'll hoist you up. You find that screw or something to grab onto. Then use this shoulder to step on.” He nodded toward his healthy shoulder.
She stepped over, her head at an odd tilt when she looked at him. Following his orders, though, she allowed him to lift her, all that sweet, thick hair of hers showering back into his face, making him smile.
Soon she peered back down from above, freed. “I'll go get some tools to undo that door,” she said, her hair raining down over one shoulder at him.
Afraid she'd bring that sheriff, he sniped, “No!"
She sucked in her breath. Her wildflower smell wafted over him again, almost buckling his knees. Not daring to look up into her face, he said, “Get my knife. I left it with my backpack on the verandah."
“So that's where it is."
A fever slammed through him again like a Florida hurricane. “Sounds like you had busy hands while I slept."
She blushed. “Oh, don't worry. Everything was strictly professional. What do I do with the knife?"
“That door is probably swollen. If you can pry the knife in, I might be able to bust the door loose by pushing at it from this side. Try the hinges, too. See if you can loosen them with the knife."
“You can't make it up those steps and shove at that door without falling."
“Then you hop back down here, lift me up through the hole, and you can shoulder the door while I carve."
“Very funny. I was concerned for your health."
“Are you always this worried about an old hobo? Your life can't be that dull, lady."
She quickly looked away, but he'd seen the odd wince tie up the corner of her mouth before she could stop it. He found that reaction curious, but then her shoulders grew rigid again. “I want you out and on your way, is all. I've got better things to do with my life than watch you hit your head on the cellar floor. You're filthy and you don't belong here."
For some reason, her brusqueness wounded him. He grumbled at her though, “All the women tell me that."
“Stuff it,” she said, almost sounding the way he remembered her. He grinned to himself.
The cellar door soon budged for them, and Cole staggered onto the verandah but she quickly stood sentry in the weedy yard, clutching his knife, her eyes wide with fright again.
Never in his life had his mere presence frightened a woman. As a speedboat racer spending plenty of time on famous beaches, he was used to the opposite reaction from women.
He couldn't take his eyes off the way the morning's rays set her hair aflame. She was a treasure. Or a Pandora's box, he reminded himself. Don't touch. She's not the reason you're here, buddy. You don't want to hurt her. Don't get her involved . Except to help his head. It ached right now. Bigtime.
“Do you have any aspirin on you?” he asked.
“I could take you to Dresden in my boat,” she said, to his surprise.
“No thanks.” He didn't need to accidentally run into her father or the sheriff. Another Pandora's box.
“A fever with that leg isn't something to ignore."
“I'll give it a good dunking in the cold lake. That should do the trick."
Aghast, she lowered the knife a little. “That won't keep the swelling down forever."
He grunted, keeping his voice low. “I'll catch some rest and be on my way. A few days okay?"
“Better make it sooner than that,” she said, gesturing with the knife.
“And why's that?"
“Because the fire department's coming out soon to burn this place down. They're just waiting for the final say-so from the sheriff and a local
Similar Books
Fletcher
David Horscroft
Castle Walls
D Jordan Redhawk
Wildewood Revenge
B.A. Morton
The Clock
James Lincoln Collier
Girl
Eden Bradley
All Spell Breaks Loose
Lisa Shearin
Wings of Love
Jeanette Skutinik
New Amsterdam: Tess
Ashley Pullo
Conspiracy of Blood and Smoke
Anne Blankman
Silk and Spurs
Cheyenne McCray