Sweet Nothings (9 page)

“Or something,” he said.

“What?” She couldn’t stop herself from peeking back at him, wishing he needed to wipe off his face again.

“You said you’d bring dinner, or
something
, next time.” Was his voice deeper than usual? Or maybe it was just scratchy. Kind of like an animal’s low growl. “I was wondering what the something might be.”

Brown eyes, now free of goggles and dust, swept over her as if implying the something he wanted had nothing to do with the pizza she’d brought. She glanced down the hall, momentarily letting a very naughty thought run through her head. The pizza
would
take twenty minutes to cook.

As if using it as a shield, she picked up the box and held it out in front of her. “I brought pizza.”

He gave her a quick smile. “So I see.”

“Are you hungry?” She faced the stove, forcing her breathing to be calm and steady, and tried to wipe the memory of his ripped abs from her mind. She was going for nonchalant, she reminded herself. Calm. Cool.

He was just a man. A man with a cat.

Who’d put rocking chairs on GiGi’s porch.

She pulled in a deep breath, feeling her insides calm. That last thought had done the trick. He was a nester, looking to settle down, and she would not fall victim to a man. She was there for pizza and to work. Only.

And maybe to clear up any misunderstandings left from Friday night.

Nick stepped to her side and pulled down a glass as she stooped and put the pizza in the still-heating oven. He poured himself lemonade from a pitcher in the fridge, then after downing half the glass, rested his hips against the counter and eyed her.

“Yes,” he stated matter-of-factly, and she realized he was replying to her question. “I’m starving, actually. I hadn’t realized it was already going on one.”

She glanced at his sweaty T-shirt. “You’ve been working a while, then?”

“Since sunrise. Though I did run into town for donuts after the diner opened.” He reached for another glass. “Want some lemonade?”

“We can’t kiss, Nick,” she blurted out, wanting to jab a finger in her eye over the way she’d brought it up.

He slowly pulled his arm back down, an empty glass in his hand. “So… no to lemonade?”

“No to kissing,” she reiterated.

“I got that.” He tilted the pitcher and poured her a glassful. He handed her the glass and she turned it up, furious with herself for letting him make her nervous. She felt just like her mother had always acted around men. Swooning and silly.

And it pissed her off.

Once she’d finished off the tart drink, she set the glass in the sink, ignored the pointed stare Nick was leveling at her, and bent over to assemble and tape up a box.

“I figured emptying out the cabinets would be a good place to start,” she rattled. “You go on back to whatever you were working on. I’ll be fine in here.”

“Joanie.” Nick’s voice was steady and solid. She ignored him.

The sound of the tape ripping from the roll as she bound up the bottom flaps broke the silence.

When she still didn’t pay attention to Nick, he reached out and stopped her by putting his hand over hers, and then pulling her up and around until she stood facing him, feeling like a fool. He had done nothing to her, yet she was running around, acting as if he’d tried to get her naked on her front porch.

He hadn’t even leaned in for the kiss.

She’d just known he wanted one.

Because she’d wanted it, too.

“Nick,” she whispered. “I’m serious.”

“I can see that.”

“We’re just working together. I don’t…” She lifted a hand in the space between them, then let it flutter back to her side. “I don’t do this… really. It’s just best not to.”

Nick wanted to ask if the problem was because she worried she’d fall victim to the
Bigbee Curse
—which was a ridiculous load of crap—or if it had something specifically to do with him, but figured the best thing was to drop it. If she didn’t want anything to do with him in that way, he wouldn’t push the issue.

No matter how much he suspected she was lying to herself.

There were reasons she didn’t get close, just as there were reasons he tread carefully with dating, as well. He could respect that.

He’d been let down one too many times in the past himself. He still wanted the kind of love that lasted forever, but he was cautious about going for it. He just hoped time didn’t completely pass him by before he found it.

“How about I take a quick shower while the pizza is cooking,” he suggested. “Then I’ll help you out in here? I’m tired of smashing things anyway.”

He’d spent the morning ripping down the back porch, rejoicing in the use of his muscles and the time spent clearing his head. Joanie was intoxicating. He didn’t know what it was about her, but he’d thought about her nonstop since he’d arrived in town.

That needed to stop.

Of course, it hadn’t helped, her showing up on his doorstep, looking cute and perky in her skinny jeans and oversize Nashville Predators sweatshirt. He’d wanted to peel the sweatshirt off her so he could once again see her curves.

“You don’t have to help,” she pointed out. “I can do it.”

“It’ll go faster this way.” And it wasn’t simply that he wanted to be in the same room as her. Surely. “Then I can spend tomorrow morning playing caveman in this kitchen.”

Swinging a sledgehammer was rejuvenating. He was anxious to take out these cabinets. They might have a seventies kind of “charm,” but that wouldn’t go far in getting this house sold.

“You given any more thought to my suggestions?” he asked.

“To taking your money?”

He angled his head at her. “How about becoming temporary business partners?”

Gray eyes met his and his chest swelled as if he were that caveman and had just dragged a dead animal in to feed his woman.

“I like that,” she said. She nodded, then dropped her gaze once more to his stomach. His muscles clenched involuntarily when the tip of her tongue peeked between her teeth. A man could get used to a woman looking at him like that.

He needed to get out of there before she realized how much he was enjoying it. “So…” he started. “Yes? Business partners?”

“Yes,” she breathed out the word. She seemed to realize she’d been staring at him and looked away, picking up the metal box that she’d pulled from the top shelf of the cabinets Friday night. He’d left it on the counter for her. “The bank is closed tomorrow for Presidents’ Day, but I’ll go by Tuesday. If I can still get the amount they promised me, I’ll let you handle the rest.”

A rush of excitement shot through him, giving him the urge to pick her up and swing her around in a circle. Likely, she wouldn’t appreciate the act. Blood surged low in his body, and he knew that every part of him would appreciate it.

“Sounds like a plan,” he muttered. “I’ll be back in ten.”

He headed to the bedroom before he did anything stupid. Like kiss her sweet face.

Chapter Five

J
oanie was at the fold-up desk in the living room when she heard the bedroom door open and Nick’s feet hit the bare hallway. She held her breath, imagining what he’d look like right after a shower.

Damp hair, no shirt, jeans riding low.

Her fingers curled against the papers that were wedged into the open drawer as she thought about what it would be like to take her time and roam over all that muscle.

Nick stepped around the corner and she almost moaned.

She let out a breath instead. At least his hair was damp. Everything else was covered up. His shirt was even buttoned up to his throat. Why not at least a tight T-shirt?

She looked back to the papers beneath her hand and uncoiled her fist. He was behaving and
not
taunting her by letting her see his recently sweaty flesh.

Which she did appreciate.

Even if the view wasn’t quite as nice.

“What are you doing?” he asked, heading in her direction. His long legs made fast work of the distance.

The smell of sausage and mushrooms was beginning to permeate the air, and as she glanced up at him, she watched him draw a deep breath in through his nose, and could see that he enjoyed the scent, same as her.

“I’m trying to find a key to open this box.” She had the box she’d pulled out Friday night on the desk in front of her, and had gone through every drawer she could think of, looking for a matching key.

“I have a cutter in the truck. I can cut it open for you.”

She shot him a look. “There’s no need to damage it. I just wanted to see what was inside.”

Without having to ask GiGi for the key.

When Joanie had first seen the box shoved away on the shelf, she’d had an instant memory of GiGi treating the small blue-and-black metal container special. It had actually surprised her to find it here. GiGi had taken several things with her to the nursing home when they’d checked her in, and given how she’d protected this box over the years, Joanie had expected it to be with her.

Nick leaned in and the scent of soap and man hit her in overload. She fought the urge to shove her nose against his neck and breathe him in.

His finger flipped up the small lock. “I can cut just the lock. It won’t damage the box.”

She pulled the box away from him and scowled. “You aren’t cutting anything.” You didn’t just rip into things without trying to find the key first. Maybe she’d come across it somewhere else in the house. “I’ll just take it home.”

And if she didn’t find a key before the day came that GiGi passed away, she’d cut it open then. She shook her head at Nick and tucked the box into the larger cardboard one at her feet. In it she’d added several things she’d found as she’d searched for the key.

Nick followed her movements with his gaze. “Are you taking all that stuff home?”

“Yes.”

He grabbed the stack of old
TV Guide
s she’d uncovered in the back of a kitchen drawer. “You have some need for these?”

“Did you see the celebrities on the front of them? There are some big stars there. GiGi was keeping them for a reason. They’re collector’s items.”

“And the old Coca-Cola cans?”

His tone irritated her. “Collector’s items,” she muttered. “They’re over twenty years old.”

Nick stood straight and she watched him scan the two connecting rooms, his eyes taking in the many boxes and stacks of papers that GiGi had accumulated over the years. They were shoved into corners and up against the walls. Then he landed on the three empty boxes she’d left on the kitchen floor—still waiting for her to get to work cleaning out the cabinets. Finally he returned to the box at her feet.

“You claim your grandmother is the one who’s a hoarder?”

Joanie bristled. “I never said
hoarder
.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “Are you implying I am?”

He shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

“Nick Dalton,” she took on a tone of outrage, and stood, feeling inferior sitting there with him towering over her. “You just don’t understand that some things need to be kept.”

He lifted a brow. “And some things need to be tossed.”

She breathed slowly through her nose, knowing he was right, but as she’d started uncovering the items, she’d kept remembering how much they’d meant to either GiGi or Pepaw. She and her grandmother may have grown distant over the years, but Joanie wasn’t simply able to toss everything out so callously.

Nick went to the kitchen when she didn’t immediately reply and pulled open the ancient oven door. The smell of gooey cheese and spicy meat wafted into the room.

“They’ll probably hit the trash eventually anyway,” she grumbled, following him into the kitchen. “I just hated to get rid of them without making sure they didn’t have some value.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry I teased you. It isn’t easy going through your family’s things.”

His serious tone hinted that he did understand, and then she remembered that he’d recently gone through his mother’s things himself. She’d passed away right before he’d come to find Cody.

So he did get it.

He just probably wouldn’t choose to keep
TV Guide
s and old Coke cans. Or small, secretive boxes.