Page 16 of Coach (Shady Valley Henchmen #8)

“Saint. Judge went away for charges related to organized crime. Saint went away for confessing to something his little brother did. Sure, Saint was guilty of some smuggling-type charges on his own too. Just didn’t get caught for those.

” I paused, watching Este process the information. “Do you want to run?”

“Not yet,” she decided after a long moment. “It’s actually kind of nice to get some straight answers. I found some stuff online about this town, but it was all ‘alleged’ and ‘speculation.’”

“No one wants to get sued. Even if what they are saying is the truth.” I paused. “Do you want to know more about the town?”

Este’s head slammed back against the door.

“Honestly? Can we put a pin in that? I feel like all I’ve been doing is thinking about the town and its people.”

“Is that why you look like you haven’t slept in days?”

“That’s part of it.”

Clearly, something happened recently, if she was suddenly suspicious of our seemingly quaint, normal small town.

But I wasn’t going to press if she was seeking me to escape from it.

“What’s the other part?”

“My stupid neighbor!”

Her arm flung out as she spoke, her voice going high, just shy of hysterical.

Lack of sleep could do that to you. I knew from experience.

There’d been times in the early days of being locked up when I didn’t sleep for long stretches, too anxious in the small cell, too irritated by my cellmate’s snoring.

“What have they been doing?”

“Home improvement. I know, I know. I’m being a hypocrite. I’ve been doing a lot of it too. But he’s doing it almost nonstop. All day. All night. There’s no break from it. I don’t even know when they sleep. It’s driving me insane. Like, literally. I feel like I’m going a little crazy.”

She looked it right then.

Wide-eyed.

Muscles tensed.

She was practically vibrating with frustration.

“How about you two crash here tonight?” I suggested. “We’re not having any parties, so it’s going to be nice and quiet.”

“I can’t ask—”

It was clearly why she was showing up, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“You’re not. I’m offering. You can have a nice, calming bath. Then climb into a comfortable bed in a quiet house and get the sleep you desperately need.”

“Really?”

She looked ready to cry in relief.

“Really.”

Tears flooded her eyes.

“Okay.”

“Okay. How about you take a seat here while I scrub the tub?”

I moved to the side so she could see what I’d been working on in my free time.

“Oh, wow. That’s beautiful,” she said, stepping forward toward the small two-seater dining table. “You made this?” she asked, her hand sliding over the mahogany surface with the intricate starburst inlay.

“I did.”

There was a warm, floating sensation in my chest at the awe on her face as she looked at the table I’d painstakingly worked on for her.

The last layer of sealant had just finished drying that afternoon. It needed another day or three to be hard enough for me to feel comfortable with her using it. But I’d been dying to finally give it to her.

“This is incredible. Like, genuinely, Saul. This would be worth thousands if you sold it. And it’s solid,” she said, knocking on the wood. “Nothing is solid wood anymore.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I said, watching her lovingly stroke the surface. “Because I made it for you.”

“Wait… what?”

Her lips parted; her pretty eyes went round.

“No.”

“Yes. I’ve been working on it since you mentioned wanting a small two-seater table to fit your space.”

“That’s… that’s so incredibly generous. But I can’t accept this.”

“Why not?”

“Because you should be selling it. Seriously, thousands, Saul. I’ve seen people pay like five grand for something half as gorgeous.”

“It’s not about money.” Hell, the wood wasn’t even that pricey. The biggest investment in it was the time.

“You must have been working on it day and night.”

“That’s what I like about making something for someone. The hours I spend on it, thinking about what they might like, how they might use it, what kind of memories they might make with it.”

“In that case,” she said, running her hand across the surface again, “I accept. I insist on paying you back with a meal served on it.”

“No way I’m passing up on that. But we’re gonna have to find you some chairs first. I haven’t perfected the art of making a chair yet.”

“Luckily, I specialize in finding things like that. Even if I have to sand them down and stain them to match the table.”

“I’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you for this, Saul. Really. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Clearly, she didn’t have a mirror.

“You’re more than welcome. Alright. Take up the stool. Relax. I’ll get the bath all ready for you.”

When I left, she was still lovingly stroking the table.

And my dirty mind didn’t imagine those fingers moving over my skin like that.

As much as I’d dreamed of her showing up at the door, of what we would do when that happened.

This was not the time.

She was here for comfort, not sex.

So while she took a hot bath, I was going to take a long, cold shower.