Page 20 of Cowboy’s Last Stand (His to Protect #1)
J ason spent the remainder of the week trapped between two types of torture.
The first type was guilt. He’d come to Last Chance to honor the memory of a fallen comrade, and he was no closer to completing that mission.
He wasn’t just putting off the uncomfortable conversation, which included the sad and disturbing details of Mike’s death.
At some point, he’d decided not to tell Natalie at all.
He’d convinced himself he was acting in Natalie’s best interests, but he wasn’t sure that was true.
He only knew that he wasn’t ready to walk away.
He could stay and protect her or come clean and leave.
He stayed.
The second type of torture was lust. He’d wanted Natalie before he’d even set eyes on her.
As soon as they’d met in person, his attraction to her had grown in leaps and bounds.
After their kiss, it had raged like wildfire.
He spent his days thinking about her while he worked in the upstairs apartment.
Every afternoon, she toiled alongside him.
Her work clothes were more suited to a yoga class than a home remodel.
He tried not to stare at her when she wasn’t looking.
In the evenings, after dinner, he did tai chi with Marcus.
Sometimes, he felt her eyes on him as he went through the martial arts motions, and he liked that.
She didn’t sit outside with him anymore, which was probably wise.
He was a bundle of nerves around her, hungry as a wolf.
If she lingered in the dark with him, he might pounce.
He’d convinced Natalie to let him start a series of home improvement projects, and the work was progressing at a brisk pace. Too brisk, perhaps. He knew he was overexerting himself. It was better to keep moving than to stop and think.
On Friday morning, she found him in the upstairs bathroom, replacing tiles in the shower stall. She was dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, not her library clothes. She’d covered her hair with a blue bandanna.
“No library today?” he asked.
“Nope. My shift at the bar starts at six. Until then, I’m all yours.”
Jason set the last tile and climbed out of the stall, wincing. It was going to be a long day. As much as he enjoyed her company, he found her presence highly distracting.
“Is the shower finished?”
“Almost.”
“Are you going to shower up here?”
“Why not?”
“It’s cold.”
“The water?”
“The air.”
“It’s fifty degrees.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Brrr.”
He smiled at her idea of cold. “I don’t mind.”
“Suit yourself.”
He wasn’t opposed to showering downstairs, but he felt awkward about stripping naked in a space with toy boats and rubber duckies.
It was also difficult for him to change clothes in the cramped confines.
Up here, he had more room to maneuver. Although the water heater worked, the chilly air was a helpful bonus.
Another bonus had been discovered behind a section of old drywall. There was a brick fireplace that had been boarded up for reasons unknown. Jason cleaned it out, opened the flue, and found it in working order. Natalie was thrilled with the feature, which added charm and value to the apartment.
They did a walk-through of the space to discuss next steps.
They’d removed the boxes and the furniture.
He’d torn out the old carpet to expose the original wood floors, which had sustained considerable damage.
When she crouched to inspect the wooden planks, he could see the outline of her panties through the thin fabric of her leggings.
They were very brief and trimmed in lace.
“What else do you need?”
His gaze jerked from her pert bottom to her pretty face. It took him a second to realize she was talking about the floor. “I need an electric sander. I can rent one.”
“All of these scuffs and gouges can be smoothed out?”
“I think so,” he said, studying the planks. Some pieces were beyond repair. “This section has to be replaced, though.”
She rose from the squatted position. “I can’t believe how much work you’ve done.”
“There’s plenty more leftover.”
“How much?”
He estimated the time involved in tackling the flooring, electrical issues, and plumbing in the kitchen. “Several weeks at least.”
“What if I asked you to slow down?”
He arched a brow. “You want to drag it out?”
“A steady pace would be easier for me to keep up with than a frenetic one.”
“Frenetic,” he said with admiration. “That’s a good word.”
She rolled her eyes at the compliment. “I’m going to run out of money if you keep fixing things at the speed of lightning.”
Jason wondered if she had any savings. She must have received a death gratuity, which was a standard lump sum for widows of soldiers killed in the line of duty.
Whatever the amount, it wasn’t enough. It was a damned shame that a military widow was struggling to make ends meet less than two years after her husband’s death.
Jason could easily afford to fund the remodel.
He wasn’t collecting disability checks anymore because he’d been cleared for duty in June, but he had plenty of leave time and significant savings.
Hiking cross-country cost very little. Jason would rather give money to Natalie than spend it himself.
The problem was, she wouldn’t accept his charity. She wanted to pay him for the labor.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that truck in the garage,” he said.
“What about it?”
“Are you going to sell it?”
“I was going to pay to have it removed. Why?”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll take a look at it. Maybe I can get it running. I need a vehicle to haul away junk and pick up supplies.”
“Don’t you have enough to do around here?”
“No.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “The truck belonged to my grandfather. He was planning to restore it.”
Jason liked the sound of that. “Did he buy parts for it?”
“If he did, they’re in the garage.”
“Let’s look.”
They walked down the steps and into the garage.
He removed the tarp to unearth a 1950s Ford F-series truck.
He’d known it was old and in bad shape, but he hadn’t realized it was a classic.
The body was solid, and the glass was intact.
It needed tires. Odds were good it needed a complete overhaul.
He stood back, letting out a low whistle.
“Is it worth something?” she asked.
“Definitely. These trucks are easy to fix, so they appeal to collectors. Even the color is highly prized.”
“What color? Faded green with rust?”
“They call it a patina.”
“You’re making that up.”
“No.”
“People pay more for rust?”
“Sometimes.”
He managed to wrestle open the hood and peer inside. The engine looked partially rebuilt, which was promising. He searched a dark corner of the garage, where several heavy-duty crates sat. They were filled with stray parts, some still usable. The thrill of discovery coursed through him.
“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Do you only like me for my projects?”
He laughed again, feeling optimistic. This truck would be a joy to salvage, but the real upside was the potential to help her out financially. “Classic car restorations aren’t my specialty. I don’t know that I can do this justice.”
“But you’ll try.”
“Sure, if you’ll let me.”
“Knock yourself out,” she said. “I’m going to drop off some donations.”
He closed the hood, pleased. “I’ll come with you.”
They visited the donation center, the equipment rental yard, and the hardware store.
Two hours later, they returned with a rented floor sander, replacement planks, grout for the tile in the bathroom, and other various necessities.
She’d decided against the door camera, even though he’d argued in favor of it.
Jason had to restrain himself from offering to foot the bill.
She’d been reluctant to let him pay for dinner the other night.
“You said your grandma owns the house?” he asked as he carried a load of supplies upstairs.
“Yes, but I have power of attorney.”
“You could get a bank loan.”
“Maybe.”
“What about your folks?”
“I wouldn’t ask my dad for money. He’s got three other kids to take care of.”
“And your mother?”
“No. We hardly speak.”
“Why is that?”
She set down a paper bag, her eyes downcast. “I already told you. She was never really a parent to me.”
“She was just a kid herself when you were born.”
Her gaze rose to his. “I get that, and I understand why she left. The modeling career was a great opportunity for her. She couldn’t bring me to work.”
“But?”
“She could have made an effort to spend time with me, and she didn’t. She didn’t visit. She was too busy going to parties and flying around the world. When she got married, she didn’t even tell me. I read about it in a fashion magazine.”
Jason placed the supplies on the floor and went to her.
When he put his arms around her, she allowed the embrace.
He held her without speaking. She sighed, her cheek flat against his chest. Jason understood her pain, as a child who’d lost one parent and become alienated from the other.
He didn’t even recognize the home he’d grown up in anymore.
He felt like an unwanted remnant of a former life.
“This is why Marcus got so upset the other night,” she said. “I told him about my mother. He knows she started a new family without me. When Kyle said it might happen to him, he believed it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said and pulled back to look at her. “I didn’t realize.”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
“What a loss for her to have never known you.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You think?”
“I know.”
When she tilted her face up slightly, he touched his lips to hers in a soft caress. He couldn’t resist the sweetness of her mouth or deny the need for basic human connection. He’d been alone too long. He’d been too isolated from others.
She retreated a step, to his disappointment. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
She moistened her lips and glanced away.
“How am I supposed to be near you without kissing you?”