The Hero's Redemption

Even as she was hesitating about trying, anyway, Cole trotted across the street, spoke briefly to Mr. Zatloka and took over. In twenty minutes, he mowed the Zatlokas’ entire lawn. He dumped the clippings in Erin’s yard waste bin—she’d seen Mr. Zatloka put theirs in the garbage can—and wheeled the mower into the garage. He and the elderly man laughed about something, and then Cole returned to work on her house.

His kindness was the reason she’d decided to ask him to dinner again. Maybe she was being foolish, but she wanted to know him better. Be friends. Not anything more.

One dangerous habit was enough.

* * *

ERIN HAD LONG since disappeared into the house by the time Cole showered, changed clothes and made his way from the apartment to her front door.

They’d worked longer than they should have. He’d suddenly become aware that the quality of the light had changed and he was having trouble seeing. Now, full night had descended.

Seeing the porch light left on for him stirred uncomfortable feelings. He should’ve politely thanked her and headed out for fast food and a visit to the library.

Erin had hired him for a dirty job, but it seemed she wanted something else. Cole didn’t get it, didn’t trust the lures she kept throwing out.

Did she just want him in her bed? If it was completely uncomplicated, there was nothing he’d like better. He wasn’t having a dry spell; he’d had a dry decade. But he had trouble believing Erin was a woman who’d have sex with an ex-con only to scratch an itch. However, raising the subject would make her wary of him.

He bounded up the new porch steps, liking their solidity beneath his weight and the nonslip treads they’d applied. They’d keep her from taking a tumble some icy day in winter, when he was long gone.

Uncurling his fingers to ring her doorbell, Cole discovered his palms were sweaty.

Should have said no.

From within, she called, “Door’s unlocked.”

It was. Once he’d opened it, he hesitated before crossing the threshold. The act felt momentous, even dangerous. He hadn’t been inside a house, any house, since the police cuffed him. Wasn’t welcome at his father’s home—he couldn’t think of it as his—or his sister’s.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Erin added.

He followed the sound of her voice and the fabulous smell of meat cooking, glancing into a living room lit by a single lamp and then a dark dining room. She was right. The place was seriously dated. Was the wiring safe?

The kitchen looked 1940s. Truly ancient linoleum, metal-edged counters, not enough cabinets, a small wooden table with two chairs in the middle of the extensive space.

“The stove isn’t bad, but the refrigerator—” He stopped himself.

Looking over her shoulder as she pulled a cookie sheet covered with golden-brown biscuits from the oven, Erin wrinkled her nose. “Is an antique. I know. I’ve been here something like two months, and I’ve had to defrost the freezer twice. And chip out ice creeping down into the refrigerator compartment.”

“Why haven’t you replaced it?”

She straightened. “I don’t know. It works.” Her shoulders sagged. “It seems wrong just to throw it away.”

He already knew her sentimental side, but discovered it went deeper than he’d realized. “It makes you think of your grandmother.”

“I guess so.” She sighed and turned her back to him as she used a spatula to deftly lift the biscuits off the cookie sheet and into a basket.

He watched her, staggered by how beautiful she was. Usually, he tried not to notice, but now her cheeks were pink from the oven heat; she was clean and her red-gold hair was shiny, bundled at the back of her head with some stretchy thing holding it in place. Above the collar of her T-shirt, her neck showed, long, slender, pale. Were those faint freckles on her nape?

Cole caught himself taking a step to close the distance between them. No.

He rolled his shoulders and backed up. “Anything I can do?”

“Um…” She looked vaguely around. “Get yourself something to drink. I’ll take milk, if you don’t mind pouring.”

His stomach growled, although if he’d had a choice… His hunger for the meal wasn’t the first he would have satisfied. In fact, he managed to keep his back mostly turned to her as he poured milk for them both and set the glasses on the table, then took a seat so she wouldn’t see that he was aroused.