4. Mike

4

MIKE

"Someone call for a handyman?" I said, tapping my knuckles along the wooden edge of Terry and Kathy's closed-in front porch.

"Hey, Mike." Kathy lifted her head as she wiped off the small side table and shot me a grateful smile. She glanced toward the side entrance, where their downstairs tenants came in and out, before padding over to me. "I know we sort of put you on the spot, but thank you for doing this."

"I'm happy to help you out if I can. You know that."

Terry and Kathy did their own house repairs for the most part, only asking for my help for a new piece of furniture or fixing something that had been damaged.

"She seems like such a nice girl, but so quiet. And your father has her putting in long hours since she arrived, so she's barely unpacked. I thought maybe you could help her fix things up a little bit, so she feels more at home."

Helping her was all I could think about lately, and after my casual offer to hang up pictures for her, I'd fought the urge to sprint home and rush through my shower to come back.

"And why should she hang with two old ladies when there's someone…more her age so close by?" Terry arched a brow at me from behind their screen door.

I nodded, smart enough to know when I had been set up.

Ever since I'd moved on to their street, they'd always pass a comment or two about what a shame it was that I was single and how they'd love for me to find a nice girl.

They didn't know my relationship issues. No one other than Aaron did, and maybe my stepmother had picked up on it a time or two. I dated and wasn't a jerk to the women I'd see. But growing up in the middle of a toxic marriage had killed any interest I might have had in long-term relationships.

Some women understood. Some didn't. I didn't want to hurt anyone—or love someone so much that my life shattered if they ever walked out of it.

My father and stepmother had a fairy-tale marriage. It had taken Dad a long time to trust himself to love someone new, almost as long as it had taken me to trust him again after my mother had taught me over and over again not to.

Love killed as much as it cured, at least from what I'd seen. It was enough to want nothing more than the superficial.

I'd had an idea what Terry and Kathy would try to pull me into, but I gravitated over to them—and to Lila—anyway.

It had been hard to tear my eyes away from her, and for a split second, I could've sworn she was staring right back. Her hazel gaze had snagged on mine, and it was impossible to look anywhere else.

Even in a tank top and cutoffs, Lila was breathtaking. After I'd caught her watching me, her eyes darted all over the porch, as if she was afraid to look in my direction. But I didn't know if that was because she was drawn to me too or if my presence had made her uneasy.

My burning curiosity over Lila was more than just how soft her full lips would feel against mine or what it would be like to run my hands along the same lush curves she'd pressed into me the day we met.

Real fear had drained the color out of her face when she'd realized her tire was flat, and I couldn't stop wondering what had happened to her to make her react like that.

Who had hurt her?

My father wouldn't let just anyone work for him, especially someone who'd have her hands in all his financial records. He'd said he'd had her checked out and, in so many words, had told me to mind my own business.

But I worried about her, being frightened like that while all alone in a new town. I had to fight the urge to check on her, my gaze often drifting down the street, which I couldn't do without making her think I was spying on her.

I always wished that Terry and Kathy would lay off the matchmaking, but this time, I was grateful they'd given me an excuse to talk to her for more than a few tense minutes.

I headed to the side door and knocked, surprised at the click of so many locks before the door opened.

"Hey, Mike," Lila said as a lock of hair fell in front of her face. I flexed my fingers around the handle of my toolbox to ward off the tingling temptation to tuck the strand behind her ear and let my hand drift down her cheek to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

"Hey," I managed after I cleared my throat and stepped inside. "I think that's the most locks I've seen on a door in this town. Usually, we have to remind everyone to lock their doors at night."

"I'd never leave my door open at night." She grimaced and shook her head. "Terry gave me the information for a locksmith when I moved in when I asked if I could add locks to the door. The one lock they had looked kind of flimsy."

Getting residents to lock their doors in this town, especially the older ones, was a battle sometimes. Since she'd moved from a big city, I understood her extra need for security, still, three locks seemed like overkill.

But I ignored the twinge in my gut. Moving from a big city to a small town was a culture adjustment. Even the nearby town I'd lived in with my mother seemed so much bigger than Kelly Lakes.

Adding better locks to her door was a reasonable thing to do, especially for a woman living alone. But the terror that took over her features when her tire had been cut flashed in my mind, and the cop in me had a burning need to know if that day and the locks on her door were connected.

"So, you met Gary?" I said as I headed to her empty kitchen table. "Nice guy. He's a big customer of my father's."

"He mentioned that," she said with a quiet chuckle. "I'm guessing the entire town has hired Russo's Contracting at some point."

Her shoulders were looser than when she was sitting in the folding chair outside, and I took it as a good sign that she'd relaxed enough to smile and almost laugh.

"They have, I think. And my father taught me everything I know, so put me to work." My chest swelled when she giggled at my mock salute.

"We can start with these," she said, reaching behind the couch for two black frames.

"Sounds good," I said, that same tingle running up my arm when she handed me the photos and our fingers brushed. "Just point to where you want them."

"How about one here?" She tapped the wall by her door. "And the other one can go over the couch next to the mirror."

"You got it," I said. "I'm at your service." I grinned, my heart kicking up a few beats when a blush ran down her neck.

Focus, Russo.

I tapped around the wall by the door, looking for the sweet spot, before I grabbed a few nails and my hammer.

"I'm sorry that they cornered you into doing this. As you can see, I haven't unpacked much," she said, motioning to the suitcase in the corner. "I should've done that before you had to spend your Friday night hanging pictures."

"They didn't corner me. Well, they did."

I pulled another smile out of her when I arched a brow.

"But I'm happy to do it. I wasn't doing anything tonight anyway, which is why I was running around the neighborhood with nowhere to go."

I'd hang pictures all night to see that fucking smile. When did a woman I hardly knew have this kind of effect on me? I didn't know where it was coming from or what the hell to do with it.

Whatever it was, it was enough to make me forget everything around me except her. Infatuation like that was dangerous, and why I tried like hell to stay away from it.

"Since my father has you working late, I'm guessing you haven't seen much of the town. Not that there's a whole lot."

After running the stud finder along the wall, I lined up the nail and gently hammered it into the freshly painted white wall, feeling Lila's pretty eyes on my back.

"You'd be right. Once we get through the mess his old manager left behind, I'll venture out and see what I missed on the drive in." She crossed her arms and leaned against the opposite wall, deepening the slope of her cleavage and almost making me attach my thumb to her wall instead of the nail. "Any suggestions?"

"Well, you've seen the bar. It's pretty packed on the weekends, and it has a steady crowd during the week," I said as I lined up the first picture and penciled a tiny line over the top of the frame.

"How's that?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder. She lifted her head, blinking a couple of times before darting her eyes away, as if I'd caught her looking somewhere she wasn't supposed to.

I smiled to myself, liking the possibility of Lila checking out my ass as I worked on her apartment. Maybe I hadn't been seeing things on the porch, but I still couldn't do anything about it.

Lila working for my father didn't make her completely off-limits, but my father wouldn't be happy if I tried to date her. I needed to keep my new fascination about Lila to myself.

"I think that's perfect," she said, a slow smile creeping across her mouth. "It's good to have reminders of home, right? Even if they make you a little homesick." A wistful gleam flickered in her eyes.

"It is, but it's not like Philly's that far away. You can always visit, right?"

Her body tensed up, not as badly as when she'd discovered her flat tire, but I could see the tension shoot across her shoulders.

"I could. Eventually," she whispered almost to herself. "When I'm not busy," she said, clearing her throat. When she lifted her head, her smile was tight and forced. "Your father has a lot of work for me to do."

"I heard," I said, trying not to dwell on why the idea of a visit back to Philly unnerved her so much. "I really didn't think that his old office manager had made that much of a mess."

"Oh, believe me, she did," she told me with a slow nod. "But I don't mind. I like the work. Can I make you a cup of coffee or something? I have that beer you asked for, and Terry gave me a chunk of the lemon meringue pie she made."

"She does make a mean lemon meringue, but no thank you. I will take that beer in a minute, though."

I set the photo onto the hook, inching back to see if it was straight.

"Take a look. Is this where you want it?"

"It's perfect," she said as she padded over to the wall. "Maybe Kathy was right. It's nice to look at something other than white walls."

In the picture, Lila beamed at the camera, her arms draped around the guy and girl on either side of her, all wearing Phillies caps with a stadium backdrop behind them.

"I take it you're a Phillies fan."

"I am," she said. "This is my best friend and a college friend of ours who was in town at the time. It was a good night. I'm a big Philly sports fan, which I'm guessing I should keep quiet here."

She squinted at me, handing me a second black-framed picture.

"If you're at The Pour House and watching a Phillies and Yankees game, probably." I smiled and lined up the second picture behind the couch. "There are a few diehard Yankee fans who might take offense. Football and hockey aren't as bad."

"So, if the Eagles play the Giants and I'm watching at the bar, I can scream Go Birds ?" Her full lips curled into a smirk. When she relaxed enough to be a little playful, it was fucking adorable.

"Maybe I wouldn't go that far."

"Noted," she said with a chuckle, coming close enough to make me stop tapping the nail into the wall.

"I bought this picture when I first moved in to my old apartment. It's a dopey picture of a rose I found at a home goods store, but I thought it looked cool." She reached over me, tracing the red foil of the petals over the glass. "I didn't really decorate there either. I had a couple of pictures up, but I never replaced the old furniture when I moved in."

"Once my father stops working you to the bone, maybe you can get a few things." I set the photo onto the wall.

"I bought a dresser, so that's progress." She pointed to the large box leaning against the wall. "It's supposed to be easy to put together, but I haven't been brave enough to make an attempt." She lifted a shoulder. "But that was more for necessity since my clothes are mostly still in my suitcase."

"I can do that for you. Just tell me where you want it."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Mike, I can't ask you to do that."

"You didn't. I'm offering. That, I'll need a piece of pie for, though."

I tapped her chin with my knuckle before I could help myself. She peered up at me, her full lips parting a bit as our eyes locked. It was a tiny gesture and more random than inappropriate, but it ignited a spark between us, at least from where I was standing.

I took a half step back on instinct as Lila's eyes bored into mine with something else I couldn't ignore. Tapping someone on the chin shouldn't have been intimate enough to almost send me into a trance.

"Let's go to the bedroom, and you can tell me where you want it."

Her brows jumped, another blush painting her cheeks.

"I mean," I said, groaning as I let my head fall back. "Let me take this into the bedroom, and you can tell me where you'd like me to put it together. Unless you want me to leave?—"

Her shoulders shook with a chuckle as she draped her hand over my bicep.

"I know what you meant. No need to be embarrassed. And honestly—" she swept her gaze around the room "—it's nice to have someone to talk to who isn't on a screen. And it would be amazing to stop feeling like I'm living out of a suitcase. So, thank you. For what you're doing, and for being here."

The corner of her mouth tipped up.

"And it's kind of cute that you got so embarrassed, Officer Mike."

"Cute?" I scoffed. "Well, as long as you're not offended, I guess I'll take it."

She shot me a wry grin and motioned for me to follow.

How old was I that hearing her call me cute and heading into her bedroom made heat rise up my neck?

This was a combo of loneliness, hormones, and curiosity. That's all. I'd shake off the burn from where she'd touched my arm and leave when I was finished.

And somehow try to push her out of my mind enough that I wasn't a blabbering idiot the next time I ran into her.

I opened the box and set out all the pieces, not wanting to glance at the bed behind me to give either of us the wrong idea.

"So, the bar is it?" Lila asked as she leaned against the doorjamb.

"There's a bar and grill near the highway exit, but not much goes on here at night unless there's some kind of party or wedding in the one catering hall we have."

"I guess that's good," she said as she traipsed over to the bed and sat on the edge. "No competition for a swanky party if everyone has it in one place."

"You'd be surprised." A laugh slipped out of me as I set up the shelves.

"Your entire family lives here?"

"Most of them," I told her as I started attaching the pieces. "You know my father. He lives here with my stepmother and my nine-year-old sister. My aunt and uncle live fifteen minutes away from them, with my high school sophomore cousin. My other cousin is a year younger than me and just earned her nursing degree, but she moved in to her own apartment a few months ago and works at the hospital."

"Wow, they really do all live here."

I smiled at Lila's widened eyes.

"My grandmother lives two towns over, about forty-five minutes away. Half the people I went to high school with still live in town. So, I think it's less about places to go here than just who to hang out with, I suppose."

"I get that." She nodded. "I've lived in Philly for my whole life, not in the same place, but in the general area. And I knew mostly everybody in my neighborhood. I understand it being more about the people you're with than the places you go."

"Yeah," I said, hating the sad pull on her features as she smoothed back the hairs falling from her bun and tickling her cheekbones.

"Is your whole family in Philly?" I asked, taking longer than needed to put the last touches on the dresser and set it against the wall.

"Most of them. My mother, my father, and my brother. My cousin Steven is how I know Claudia. He's married to Claudia's cousin, Eric, and lives in Brooklyn.

"Ah, yes. He runs Claudia's father's restaurant, right? I keep meaning to go. Claudia is always talking about how amazing it is."

"It's fantastic. I've been a couple of times. Brooklyn is not too far of a drive from Philly, but it would be a long ride from here. Steven is more of a big brother than a cousin to me," she said as a frown pulled at her lips.

I was focusing more on her mouth than the project I was supposed to be doing for her.

"Do you not get along with your brother?"

"No," she said, shifting on the bed. "We never really did. I was always a nuisance to him, and he was never afraid to show it."

"I guess it must make family gatherings a little stressful."

"I told my parents I won't go to anything if he's there. So, yes, it's that bad."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

I clutched the wood in my hands hard enough to almost splinter my finger. Was her brother the one who'd hurt her?

"Don't be. It's fine. Things happen, right?"

I nodded, but there'd be no way I'd ever be okay with Keely not being in my life. Granted, we were sixteen years apart so we didn't have typical sibling arguments, but my cousin Chloe was the closest thing I'd had to a sibling growing up. As much as we squabbled, I'd never cut her off or stand for anyone hurting her.

"So, your father and your stepmother live in Kelly Lakes, but your mother doesn't?"

I took her lead for a change in subject.

"My mother lives in California with her second husband, who never liked kids very much. That's why, once she remarried, I got shipped back to my father in Kelly Lakes."

"I thought you'd always lived here."

"Nope. From kindergarten until eighth grade, I lived with my mother in a town in Putnam County. I'd visit my father on the weekends, or he'd take me somewhere."

"That must have been hard to move back at that age. Especially going into high school."

"It was. My parents had a brutal divorce. I saw things get ugly between them quite a few times."

She shook her head. "I've only known your father a short time, but I can't imagine him getting ugly with anyone."

My stomach always rolled when I let my mind drift to those years. How I'd be sick over it all but could never show it.

"He would always back off for my sake. My mother would tell me things about him that I knew couldn't be true. But I was a kid, so what did I know? When I had to come back to live with him, it took me a long time to believe that he wanted me there, not that I was just plopped on his doorstep to take care of until I turned eighteen."

I popped off the carpet and eyeballed the dresser.

"Is this good?"

I turned to Lila, so much sympathy in her pretty gaze I had to look away.

"I'm so sorry you went through that. Do you still talk to your mother?"

I hadn't talked about this in years, and even then, I'd never went into any real detail. My mother was the villain in this story, and I guessed if I ever admitted to how it made me feel, I'd have to call her one.

For some reason, it still hurt to do that.

"I do. Sometimes she'll come to New York if her husband has a business trip here."

I left out the part about how, even though I was twenty-five, my mother was still trying to poison me against my father.

"I always have to mute things in my life for her. Which is weird to have to do with a parent. She hates that I'm a cop. So does my father. But I can never show how close I am with my father or how happy I am living here."

That, I had never admitted to anyone. It was a lifelong burden you would have thought I'd become used to, but as I got older, all I did was resent it more.

I was happy with my life, but I always wished she could stop trying to make me miserable because she wasn't happy with hers.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to give you a sob story as I put together your furniture." I went back to pushing the dresser against the wall when she squeezed my shoulder, sending a zing right down my spine.

"You sound like you've been holding that in for a bit. Don't apologize."

I swiveled my head to her warm smile that soothed me as much as it kicked up my pulse.

"If a trade makes you feel better, can I tell you something that's been bothering me?"

I nodded without a word and turned around, bracing myself for what she might say.

"I feel like since we met, I've given you a bad impression. Loitering around Claudia's bar?—"

"I told you not to worry about that. I just thought you needed help."

She held up a hand. "And I know I must've looked crazy the other day outside the office. I know a flat tire isn't a big deal, but it brought up a…bad memory." She sucked in a long breath. "But please don't think I'm weird or here with any bad intentions?—"

"I don't think that." I stepped closer, shaking my head. "If you ever need to blurt anything out like I just did, I'm only around the corner."

A slow smile spread across her mouth, and I needed to look away before I did something reckless, like grab the back of her neck and cover her mouth with mine, obliterating my stupid hang-ups and whatever asshole gave her a memory bad enough to fear a flat tire.

Her eyes roamed my face, lingering on my mouth before dropping to the carpet.

"I'll do that. Thank you," she said on a whisper so soft I wanted to pull her into my arms, regardless of if it made any kind of sense.

"How's this? Think you could unpack now?" I stepped aside, my chest swelling as her eyes lit up.

"Yes. Yes, I can. It's as nice as the picture online." She coasted her hands over the white wood, her face lit up like the most beautiful Christmas tree.

My chest swelled. I loved making her happy but hated that whoever slashed her tire was still scaring her today.

"You're very welcome. I am here for all your construction needs."

"I think I'm good for a bit." She chewed on her bottom lip as she peered up at me.

"If you need a friend or someone to show you the sights, I'd be up for that too."

I'd been right. Something bad had brought her into town, but I wouldn't push unless she wanted to tell me. I wanted her to feel safer with me close by, but I could already tell that being friends with her wasn't going to be easy.

"I would like that. I'll let you know if and when I want a tour."

I returned her wide smile as I tried to suck back the air she'd stolen from my lungs again.

Never mind not easy. Trying to only be friends with Lila was already draining as hell.

But I couldn't resist taking whatever I could get.