Only You (2 page)

Why was she doing this?

She glanced back at the messy kitchen, pots and dishes from Melanie's cooking filling the sink.

She
hated
doing dishes.

Killer followed her out the door, then let out his displeasure when she shut the door before he could get out.

“I'll be back, you big baby,” she said to the door, then started across the yard, the dog's angry yaps following her.

Great.

She stood at the bottom of his porch, looking up at the partially open front door and listening to her cousin's disgruntled dog. The casserole dish was burning her hand and she was having serious second thoughts. Her new neighbor was going to think she was a nutcase—which she was, courtesy of her cousin. All she had to do was dump this off, then head home. Sure she was supposed to try to talk to him, but she'd drop off the food, exchange a few pleasantries, then leave.

Easy-peasy.

She quickly climbed the two steps to the porch and sidestepped the hole in front of the door. This place was even more of a disaster than she'd thought. She rapped on the door frame and waited. Killer renewed his barking efforts and she glanced over at her house, worried that Mrs. Darcy would hear him and call animal control.

“Hey.”

She whipped her head around, her breath catching when she saw the man standing in the doorway. He had to be the most good-looking man she'd ever seen. He was tall—tall enough that she had to tilt her head to look up at him—but the view was worth the effort. His dark brown hair was cropped short, but the unruly short waves suggested he was growing it out or needed a trim, and while she didn't care for men with beards, the few days' growth of stubble on his face made her fingers itch to touch it. His chest and shoulders filled out his light gray T-shirt, and the previously noticed dark jeans clung to his hips. Never in her twenty-nine years had Holly reacted to man like she was now. She was literally tongue-tied.

His chocolate brown eyes swept from her face, down her body, then back up again as he stood in place waiting for her to say something.

She'd heard of women doing this, acting like an imbecile over a man, but not her. Never her.

“Can I help you?”

“I…uh…” she stammered.

Lines creased his forehead as he frowned. “Are you okay?”

Oh, my God. She was making an utter fool out of herself. She cast her gaze to the floor, trying to get herself together.
Say something, Holly. Anything.
The hole in the porch floor caught her attention. “I can't believe you're actually moving
into
the Miller house. It's falling apart.”

The blood rushed to her face.
Oh, my God. Did I really just say that?

He laughed, but it sounded pained. “So I've noticed.”

Why was she so awkward? Why couldn't she be more like Melanie?

He shifted his weight, his shoulder leaning into the door frame. “Unless you're a very generous Jehovah's Witness, I'm guessing that's for me?”

“Uh…yeah…” She looked down at the dish in her hand, now all too aware that it was still hot. She tried to shift it from her palm to her fingertips, the dish tipping sideways. It started to fall and she tried to catch it with her forearm, but the man grabbed it from her hand.

“Whoa. Runaway casserole.” He chuckled. He stood in front of her now, so close she could smell his musky shampoo mixed with his sweat, which wasn't as bad a combination as she would have expected. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Her chest tightened and she forced herself to take a natural breath.

“Yeah…”
Jiminy Christmas, Holly. Get yourself together.
“It's lasagna.”

“Even better.”

“I didn't make it.” Brilliant. Just freaking brilliant.

He laughed and lifted the loose foil. “So you got a frozen lasagna from Costco and stuffed part of it in this casserole dish and brought it over to impress me?” He grinned at her, his gorgeous brown eyes dancing.

“What? No!” Oh, God. Could she just turn around and go home now? Did this constitute talking to him?

He watched her, waiting for further explanation.

“I…uh…” Then she remembered the bag in her hand and shoved it out toward him, punching him in the stomach. He released a soft grunt.

Could this get any worse? She started to take a step back, but he shifted the casserole dish and grabbed her arm, pulling her forward until his chest stopped her. She rested her free hand on him, feeling his hard muscles under her palm.

Oh, my God. She was touching his chest. His sexy chest.

Panic washed through her and she tried to jerk away, but he held her firmly in place. She hadn't dated in a while, and she knew a lot of the new dating apps had changed the rules. Did bringing a man food mean she wanted a booty call? She was going to
kill
Melanie.

She narrowed her eyes, then said in a haughty tone, “I'm not ready to sleep with you yet.”

An amused grin spread across his face. “While I'm happy to hear that's on the agenda for later, that's not why I'm holding you
now
. You were about to step into the hole.” He tilted his head toward it.

Her eyes sank closed and her face combusted.

He dropped his hold on her arm and took the bag, moving slowly like she was a skittish animal. “What's in the bag?”

“Beer.” She couldn't bear to look at him, instead taking a couple of steps backward while making sure to avoid the hole. “Yeah…I…You're busy. …”

“I can't accept your store-bought lasagna,” he said, sounding serious.

Who didn't eat lasagna? “What? Oh…you don't eat meat?
Oh!
It's not store-bought. My cousin made—”

“It looks like there's enough for both of us. I figure maybe we should have dinner together before we hop into bed.”

“What?
Oh.
” This had moved well past disaster and was quickly moving into
relocating to another state to avoid ever seeing him again
territory. Her breath caught again at both his suggestion and the way he was watching her now—a mixture of curiosity and interest. Well,
hello
. She'd just let him know she was thinking about sleeping with him. Still, she'd never had a man look at her with such intensity, and a shiver ran down her spine.

His eyes held hers and she felt herself melting.

“There's only one fork in the bag.” That was brilliant. Why was she still standing here?
Run!
But her feet had somehow become disconnected from her brain.

His grin turned wicked. “We can share.”

Her face burned at the thought of their mouths touching the same utensil. Her eyes shifted to his mouth and she suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would he hold her tightly to his chest like he had moments ago?

Oh, my God.
She had just turned into every clichéd woman she'd made fun of since high school. What the hell was happening to her? Without another word, she spun around and ran back to her house, her foot catching on a tree root and making her stumble. She looked back at him, horrified to see him watching her, his amusement mixed with confusion.

When she got inside the house, she shut the door and locked it, wondering if she could convince Melanie into building a six-foot privacy fence to run the length of their property.

Because there was no way she could ever face that man again.

K
evin watched the cute blonde run back to her house next door, tripping on a tree root on the way. He couldn't help noticing the way her jean shorts clung to the curve of her ass. He was still standing in the same spot—grinning like a damn fool—when he heard her door slam.

Stand your ground, marine.

He let out a loud sigh and went back inside, casserole dish in hand. He was used to women falling at his feet, but there was a vulnerability to his neighbor he didn't usually see in the women who came on to him, and he was intrigued. Intrigued enough to consider dropping his self-imposed six-month break from women.

And that was a bad thing.

If he'd learned nothing else from his last breakup, he had learned that he had absolutely
terrible
taste in women. He'd had a string of disastrous relationships, but the horrifying end of his last relationship had brought him to the conclusion that it was time to reevaluate his love life along with his career choice. So as he made the shift into civilian life, it seemed like a good time to shake up everything and self-impose a ban on women. He had plenty of other things to focus on: working on his house, re-acclimating to life in his hometown, and helping Matt reorganize his company.

“Did I hear someone at the door?” Megan asked, coming out of the bathroom, the kitten in her hand.

He lifted the casserole dish. “My neighbor.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh, yeah? The little old ladies in the neighborhood already looking out for you?”

He considered telling her the truth, but she'd give him more grief about his no-women rule. “Something like that.”

He looked around his house and groaned, suddenly scared—and, after everything he'd seen, it took a lot to scare him. But he had a feeling this place was going to suck up more money than anyone realized. “Okay, let's get this tour started.”

Cuddling the kitten with one hand, Megan waved around the room with the other. “This is the living room.”

The hardwood floor needed to be refinished, and the window moldings were small and skimpy, not to mention lumpy and chipped after multiple layers of paint. “Okay…”

Megan shot him a glare. “This room is easy. Refinish the floor, repaint, add new trim, and you're good to go.”

He shook his head, then headed toward the kitchen.

The dining room walls were covered with blue-and-pink floral wallpaper. The four-foot-tall built-in cabinets surrounding the window were impressive, but the ugliest glass and brass light fixture he'd ever seen, which was currently hanging off center in the room, had to go.

“The dining room.”

“It's hideous.”

“Of course it is. But it only needs cosmetic changes, although I think we should get an engineer out to see if that wall is load bearing.” She pointed to the wall separating this room from the living room. “You could tear it down for an open floor plan.”

“Someone's been watching too much HGTV.”

Ignoring him, she led him past a staircase, stopping at a door underneath the stairs. “This leads to the basement, but we'll check it out later.”

The way she announced it made him worried about what was down there.

“And here is the kitchen.”

He followed her through a small door and stopped in his tracks. “Oh, my God.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “I know it looks bad, but it can all be fixed.”

“Bad?” He moved into the room and spun in a circle. “You think this is
bad
? This is a freaking train wreck.” He took a breath, then wiped sweat from his forehead. “Why is it so hot in here? Is the air-conditioning not on?”

“About that…”

“What?” His voice was hard, but she seemed undeterred.

“There is no air-conditioning, and the furnace probably needs to be replaced.”

“Megan!” His voice boomed in the small room. “What the hell have you done?”

She moved in front of him, the kitten still cradled in her arm. “I know it's daunting, but you have no idea how much money you can make off this house. I did my homework. You can hire someone to do most of it and still make thirty grand profit.”

That caught his attention. “How do you know that?”

“I had three contractors come in and make bids.”

He took a step back and ran a hand over his head. “Why the hell didn't you lead off with that?”

She laughed. “Because it was more fun watching you freak out.”

He looked at the place with a new appreciation, although there wasn't a single redeeming quality about the kitchen. Half the drawers were crooked, obviously broken, and several of the cabinet doors were missing. The pink laminate counter was stained and chipped. The sink was a shallow, scratched-up stainless-steel bowl. The range looked like it was original to the house—about fifty years old—and there was no dishwasher. “This room is a disaster.”

“You can put in a new one for ten thousand.”

“That's a third of the budget you mentioned.”

She shrugged. “Kitchens sell.”

“Where am I going to come up with thirty thousand dollars? I used up most of my savings to get this place. I've only got ten left.”

“We'll figure it out.” For the first time she looked uncertain. “I'll help you, Kevin.”

“How are you going to help me? You're pregnant.”

“Yeah, I'm pregnant, not an invalid. I can do things and I can give you money. As a business partner.”

“Megan.”

“Look, the fund-raising position I took at the food pantry phased out when they merged with the community center, and most places don't want to hire a pregnant woman.” She held up a hand when he started to protest. “Yeah, I know it's illegal, but the fact is that I haven't applied anywhere. I'm still trying to decide if I'm going to stay home for a few years after the baby comes, so it didn't seem fair to apply for a job I might only stay at for a few months.”

He gave her a pointed look. “So you're telling me that you're bored? And you saw my house as a project.”

“No. I saw it as a chance for you do something that will make you some money and keep you occupied since you've sworn off women.” She bumped her shoulder into his arm. “Besides, no woman would ever want to come home with you to this dump.”

He was beginning to regret sharing his no-women policy with her. “Very funny.”

“What's done is done. Let's just figure out how to fix this place up and make it livable.”

Still carrying the kitten, Megan took him upstairs to see the two small bedrooms and bath. The bedrooms had holes in the walls, and the bathroom shower was covered in so much mildew Kevin was sure the EPA should have been called in. But the bedrooms and hallway had hardwood floors that only needed refinishing and the bathroom looked like a simple gut job.

“How the hell can I live here?” he asked, staring out the front bedroom window at the U-Haul in the street. “Especially if I'm renovating it.”

“You told me you didn't bring much furniture. A mattress, a few chairs, and a bunch of boxes. You won't have much in the way.”

“I meant here with all the construction. This place is hardly livable as it is.”

She shrugged. “I guess it's up to you. You can always live with Mom and Dad.”

His irritation rose. “The purpose of having you look for my house was for the express purpose of
not
living with Mom. Not even for one night.”

“You can live here
and
work on it. People do it all the time. Trust me on this.”

He tried to open the window but met resistance. He gave it a good jerk and the window shot up, making him stumble backward.

This house was one giant piece of shit. But now it was
his
piece of shit. Maybe he could make this work. Megan was right—he needed something to do to keep him preoccupied. “Okay. I'm game to try this.”

“That's the spirit!” Her phone rang and she pulled it out of her purse, cringing as she headed down the stairs. “It's Mom. I forgot to mention that she wants to come see your new house.”

He shook his head. “No way.”

“You think I want her knowing I picked out this dump for you?” She laughed. “I'll stall her, but you owe me,” she said as she walked to the door.

“Not by a long shot, sis. You owe
me
. And I plan to collect. Big-time.”

She turned around and reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I love you. You have no idea how happy I am you're home.”

He grinned. “So Mom will have someone else to obsess over.”

She tilted her head, mischievousness in her eyes. “Well, there's that, too.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you'll trump me every time with that little niece or nephew of mine.”

“For now.” She walked out onto the porch.

“What's that mean?”

She turned back to him, grinning. She was up to something, of that he was sure, but damned if he knew what it was. “Oh!” She handed him the sleeping kitten in her arms. “Your first pet.”

“I am
not
keeping this kitten. I don't do pets.”

She headed to her car, not bothering to look back. “Whatever you say.”

She gave him a wave as she drove away, then he looked down at the kitten, who had snuggled into his arm.

He was in deep shit.

Holly shut the door behind her and pressed her back against it as she covered her face with her hand and groaned. She'd acted like a complete and utter idiot. But she'd never see him again, right? Sure, her neighbors were friendly and were in everyone else's business, but he was going to fix it up and move on.

At least she sure as hell hoped so.

Her phone dinged in the kitchen, alerting her to a text. She stomped toward it, her irritation with her cousin mounting with each step. Melanie had sent three texts, all saying the same thing:
Well???

Holly texted back.
I'm going to kill you.

Melanie texted back within seconds.
Did you talk to him?

Yes.
That one word said so much, yet nothing at all.

It had been a long time since she'd been this humiliated, and it didn't sit well. Holly had spent a long time outgrowing the gangly, awkward girl from high school, and this situation reeked of her past. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out what was left of her lasagna, pissed all over again.

She cut out a piece with more force than necessary, trying to figure out whom she was more mad at—her neighbor, her cousin, or herself. Which was utterly ridiculous. Why would she be angry with her neighbor? What had he done other than manhandle her to keep her from breaking her leg on his porch and be better looking than a person had a right to? She decided she could be angry with him on principle alone.

Her phone rang seconds later with her cousin's ringtone. She put her plate in the microwave and turned it on, trying to decide whether to answer or not. Her anger won out. “I mean it. I'm seriously going to kill you,” she spit out after putting her phone on speaker and resting it on the counter.

Melanie laughed. “What happened? Start at the beginning.”

Holly opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. “I made an utter fool of myself, that's what happened.”

“Let me be the judge of that. Tell me what happened.”

“Aren't you supposed to be working?”

“We're not busy at the moment, and Scott's covering the bar so I could call you. Quit stalling. Is he sexy?”

“He's…”
Hot, sexy, stunning, mind-alteringly gorgeous.
“…okay.”

“How old is he?”

“I don't know, maybe early thirties.” She popped the top off her bottle.

“Married?”

“No ring.”

“He must be hot. You looked!”

“Only because I knew you'd ask.”

“You liar. What's he look like?”

“He's short, fat, and bald.”

“Try again.”

Holly took a long drag of her beer, sorting through her options.

“Holly!”

“He's tall, dark, and handsome, okay? He's everything you could ever hope for.”

“Me? Why not you?”

“I made a fool of myself, Mel.” Her defeat seeped into her voice. “I can never, ever face that man again. I'm just about to Google-search how to build a six-foot privacy fence.”

“Oh, Hol.” Melanie sighed. “It couldn't have been that bad.”

Holly wandered over to the table, picking up a photo of a wedding bouquet. “It was worse than bad.”

Holly had been planning weddings since she was a kid, but she'd never met a man worth taking a risk on with “I do.” Sure, it had been a couple of years since she'd had a serious relationship, but she'd been okay with that. Until now. Why did she feel so unsettled?

“It's okay to love somebody, Hol.” Melanie's voice was warm and soft. “You don't have to chase everyone away.”

“Says the woman who won't go see the woman who raised her.” Holly's voice was sharper than she'd meant it to be, but Melanie's comment stung more than she cared to admit. “I saw Grandma today.”

Melanie was quiet for several seconds. “So? You see her almost every day after work.”

“She was worse today.”

Melanie remained silent.

“Mel, she's deteriorating fast. Don't you want to see her at least one more time before she forgets us both?”

Of the two girls, Melanie had had a rougher time putting their grandmother into the health-care facility eleven months ago. As far as Holly knew, Melanie had seen her only a handful of times, and Holly had guilted her into two of them.

“She misses you, Melanie. She asks for you.”

“I can't see her like that, Holly. I just can't. She's not the woman who raised us.”

No, the woman who'd raised them had been strong. She took in two frightened, traumatized girls—ages five and seven—when she thought she was done raising children. Instead, a year after she'd lost her husband to cancer she'd lost her only two sons and their wives in a fiery car accident, and taken in her two orphaned granddaughters.