The Hero's Redemption

“You know you’re welcome—”

“I’ll ask if I really need it.”

His terse response told her not to push it. “You couldn’t email?” she said, almost at random.

Cole shook his head. “Recently they’ve let some inmates buy a low-cost tablet that allows email. I wasn’t interested.”

Nobody to email. He didn’t have to say it.

“Dani…”

“Yeah.” His expression eased. “She would’ve liked that.”

Erin nodded. She’d been careful to ensure that they didn’t feel obliged to invite her for lunch last week, but thought she’d like Cole’s sister. Shorter than Erin and small-boned, Dani was still unmistakably related to him. Same hair color, same blue eyes, a chin that looked as if it could be as stubborn as his, and cheekbones that, while considerably more delicate than her brother’s, echoed his.

“I took some scones over to the Zatlokas. She told me how happy she is with her ramp.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Have you met Lottie Price? Across the street and a few doors down?”

Cole didn’t move, but she felt new tension from him, anyway. “Yellow house?”

“That’s the one.”

“She another senior?”

“A contemporary of Nanna’s. They were friends and competitors. Their gardens, you know. Cooking, too.” Remembering, Erin smiled. “Lottie would bring over some banana bread and say sweetly, ‘I know you fuss over how dry yours always is. I’ll be glad to give you my recipe if you like.’”

Cole laughed. “What would your grandmother say?”

“‘How kind of you, Lottie. If you find your bread’s a bit soggy, I’ll be glad to share my recipe with you.’”

His grin lingering, he said, “Friends, huh?”

“They really were. They just enjoyed sparring.” More cautiously, she said, “Lottie asked about you. She’s been thinking she needs a wheelchair ramp, too.”

“Erin.” He sighed. “You need to quit looking for work for me.”

“She’d heard about the one you built for the Zatlokas! She asked because I was there, not because I was…was pitching your skills. The neighbors talk, that’s all.”

“So you set out to visit every single homeowner within a two-block radius—because you’ve decided to be sociable.”

“Yes!” Feeling warmth in her cheeks, Erin couldn’t help remembering Cole telling her she was a lousy liar. “Don’t you want the work?”

“I need to find my own jobs.” Suddenly, he sounded…hard.

She opened her mouth to ask why, then closed it. She knew. He must believe she didn’t think he could find a job on his own.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Erin looked away and nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry. I just wanted—” She broke off, pushing back her chair and getting up.

“I know what you wanted.” There he went, sounding so gentle she couldn’t stand it.

Erin grabbed her own dishes and carried them to the counter.

“I’ll go talk to this Lottie,” he said, his resignation clear. “But that’s it.”

Back at the table, she reached for the serving bowls. “I heard you,” she said stiffly. “You don’t have to worry.”

Moving with startling swiftness, his hand shot out and closed on her wrist. “Do you know why I don’t want any more help from you?”

She lifted her head to meet eyes darker than usual. Stormy. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I was a mess when we met. Now it’s time for me to do the important things myself.”

“Fine.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper.

His fingers flexed on her arm, and he abruptly stood, knocking his chair aside. He tugged her toward him. “I already wish things were different, that I was more—” He shook off whatever he’d been about to say. “Now you’re putting me in debt.”

“It’s not like that!”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His expression oddly bleak, he released her wrist to put his hands on her shoulders. “Maybe this will give you the idea.” He bent his head and kissed her.