The Hero's Redemption
Besides, she’d embarrass him if she said anything.
Since he obviously didn’t need assistance, she went back to scraping. Sore muscles screamed; if they didn’t loosen up, she’d have to find something else to do.
She stuck to it for about an hour before whimpering and letting her arm fall to her side. Coaching volleyball and softball, she’d stayed in condition. The weight she’d lost since the crash, plus six months of idleness, were apparently exacting a cost.
From where she was working, she hadn’t been able to see Cole, but the screech of nails and the ripping sound of boards being torn up hadn’t stopped. Walking around the house, she stopped at the sight of a bigger-than-expected pile of splintered lumber.
He’d finished with the porch floorboards and now had one knee on a step as he pried up a board on the step above. It didn’t come up cleanly. With a sodden sound, one end separated.
Erin winced. She’d been careful to stay close to the edge and cling to the rail as she went up and down the steps, but still…
His head turned and he fastened those icy eyes on her.
She approached. “You’ve made good progress.”
“This part doesn’t take long.” He kept watching her. “The supports are rotting, too. I’m going to have to rebuild from the ground up.”
“I guess that’s not a surprise. I think the porch is original to the house.”
“The steps aren’t as old as the rest of the porch.”
“My grandfather kept things up until his health declined. Even then, he made sure the work got done.”
“When did he die?”
A little startled that he’d actually asked, she said, “Fifteen years ago? No, more than that. Seventeen or eighteen.”
He nodded, then changed the subject. “Did you order a Dumpster?”
“Yes. They’ll deliver it either today or tomorrow. I also asked for two yard waste bins.”
He had that brief dip of his head down pat. Saved a lot of words.
She gazed upward. “I’ll have to buy shingles.” She assumed he would rebuild the porch roof.
“And some plywood. Different kind of nails, too.”
He agreed he’d make her a new list or accompany her to the lumberyard, although an even blanker than usual face suggested he’d rather not go on an outing. With her? Or at all?
At his request, she ended up pulling nails out of a pile of boards he’d set aside because he thought they were reusable. At lunchtime, Erin shared the remainder of yesterday’s pizza with him, although Cole didn’t look thrilled about that.
Erin kept trying to think of some way to ask about his accommodations, but failed. He wouldn’t welcome nosiness.
“It almost looks like rain,” she finally ventured. “Scattered showers” was what her phone had told her.
He squinted up at the gray sky. “Probably not until evening.”
“If it’s raining tomorrow, I can put you to work inside.”
He barely glanced at her. “I’ll set up the saw in the garage, cut the lumber for the porch to size. Might even slap some primer on and let it dry.”
He had to be staying somewhere. He must have at least a few possessions. Or would he? She couldn’t believe the correctional institute released inmates who’d completed their sentences or were on parole with nothing but the clothes on their backs and maybe what they’d had in their pockets when they were arrested. Or did they?
By five o’clock, the front porch was gone. The house seemed oddly naked without it, Erin thought, surveying the result of his work. Behind her, the garage door descended with a groan and bump. She’d noticed before that Cole wiped each tool with a rag and returned it to its place when he was done with it.
She knew he was walking toward her only because she looked over her shoulder. She never heard him coming. Somehow, even wearing boots, he avoided crunching on gravel or broken branches the way she did. His walk, controlled, confident and very male, was part of what made him so physically compelling.
“I won’t tear out the back steps until I’ve replaced this,” Cole said.
She found herself smiling. “Climbing in and out of the house on a ladder would be fun.”