The King Next Door

Gaping holes stared back at her when she looked up, as if the house itself was glaring at her accusingly. Plaster dust and water, congealed into a heavy paste, littered the worn counters, and the floor was covered in the stuff.

“Oh. My. God.”

She wanted to cry. And scream. And grab a shovel and a broom and start returning her world to normal. But as her gaze studied what was left of her ceiling, she knew it was going to take a lot more than elbow grease to get this job done.

“House is dirty!” Connor shouted, clapping both hands.

Instinctively, she tightened her grip on her son.

“It’s a wreck,” Griffin pointed out unnecessarily.

Nicole stood in one spot and did a slow turn, letting her horrified gaze take in the destruction. For the first time, she understood completely what the phrase her heart sank was referring to.

“I don’t even know where to start to clean this up,” she murmured, shifting a look through the open doorway into the living room. That room hadn’t entirely escaped, either. Furniture had been pushed aside and puddles of water had gathered on the hardwood floor.

For one second, she remembered the last time her house had been flooded, when her pipes sprang a leak and Katie had rushed over to help, dragging Rafe King along with her. It was the first time she’d met Rafe. And now, here she was, her house was flooded and yet another King was on hand for the occasion.

“You don’t have to clean it up,” Griffin said from behind her.

“You see anyone else signing up for the job?” It would take her hours, she thought miserably.

“We’ll get a cleaning crew in here,” he suggested.

“I can’t afford that,” she argued.

“Well, you can’t do it alone, and I’m not doing it,” he said.

“Who asked for your help?” Nicole’s temper, already frayed by the fire, began bubbling.

“Not you,” Griffin said and folded his arms over his chest. Shaking his head, he blurted, “You wouldn’t ask for help if you were neck-deep in quicksand and sinking fast, would you?”

“If you think that’s insulting, you’re wrong,” she told him. “I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years.”

“And because you can do it, you should?”

Connor squirmed again and rather than keep trying to hold on to him, she stalked past Griffin and walked out into the backyard. At least here she wasn’t surrounded by what was left of her house. The cloying smell of wet smoke wasn’t choking her. And she wasn’t as tempted to sit down on the ground and cry just for the hell of it.

Setting Connor down, she watched him race off to the flowerbed and his beloved shovel. Sunlight played on his blond hair and his sturdy little legs pumped with his eagerness to get back to playing.

When Griffin walked up behind her, Nicole didn’t even look at him. “I know you’re trying to help, but it’d really be best if you just went home.”

“Right.” He moved to stand in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. Those blue eyes of his were fixed on her, daring her to look away. So of course she didn’t. “You really think I’m just going to walk back to the house and hop back into the hot tub? Adventure over? End of story?”

“Why not?”

He laughed shortly. “I think I was just insulted, but we’ll let that one go for now. What I can’t figure out is if you’re really this stubborn or if it’s an act for my benefit.”

Stunned, she stared at him. “Why would I do anything for your benefit, Griffin?”

“Just what I was asking myself,” he muttered. “But if you’re serious about this, it’s just as crazy. I’m not going to leave you here alone with a two-year-old in the middle of this wreck.”

She wasn’t sure why he was upset. It wasn’t his house that had caught fire. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“Well, then, you should decide it. How are you going to manage with no power? No kitchen?”

Nicole didn’t have an answer for that. Yet. She’d figure something out, though. She always had. Her gaze shifted to Connor, sitting in the shade, singing to himself as he piled dirt from the flowerbed onto the grass. Everything in her softened and toughened up at the same time. She would do whatever she had to. For her son. “This is my house, Griffin. Where else am I supposed to go?”