Page 16

"She's a menace," I mutter, but there's no heat in it. Maeve raised me after my parents died, and her particular brand of loving interference is as familiar as breathing. I should be used to it by now. Especially when she's right.

I check the clock. 4:30. Still got a long way to go in this 24-hour shift, but Williams won't mind if I take a quick break to deliver this. Just a neighborly check-in. Nothing more complicated than that.

The drive to Lila's house takes seven minutes, during which I manage to convince myself that this is a perfectly normal thing to do.

I'm delivering food from Maeve, bringing something to someone who might need it, being a good neighbor.

The fact that my pulse picks up when I turn onto her street is irrelevant.

Her front yard looks different in daylight. Tidier somehow, like someone's been working on it. The mailbox is still lying sideways in the grass, but the walkway has been cleared of debris and there are signs that someone's been trimming back the overgrown bushes.

I'm halfway up the front path when I hear it. The sharp thunk of a hammer connecting with wood, followed by a frustrated curse that's definitely Lila's voice.

Then a deeper voice, patient and amused. "Try holding it closer to the head. You'll have more control that way."

Callum.

Something twists in my chest. Jealousy, maybe, but not the angry kind.

More like wishing I could be that helpful to her.

I force myself to keep walking, container of stew in hand, reminding myself that there's nothing wrong with Callum helping Lila with home repairs.

It's neighborly. It's practical. It's exactly what I'd be doing if I'd gotten here first.

The fact that I wish I had gotten here first is between me and my slightly wounded pride.

I knock on the door, which swings open a moment later to reveal Lila looking slightly flustered and absolutely beautiful.

Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, there's a smudge of something that might be dust on her cheek, and she's wearing jeans and an oversized t-shirt that says "Honeyridge Falls" in faded letters.

She must have picked it up from one of the local shops.

The sight of her hits me harder than it should.

Casual and comfortable and completely unaware of how good she looks.

"Dean!" Her face lights up with genuine pleasure, and some of the tension in my chest eases. "Hi! What brings you by?"

Before I can answer, Callum's voice carries from inside the house. "See? That last one went in clean. Much better than the first few attempts."

Lila glances over her shoulder with a smile that's equal parts pride and exasperation. "He's teaching me how not to bend every nail I touch. Apparently, I hold a hammer like it's a dinner fork."

She steps back to let me in, and I follow her into the living room where Callum is kneeling beside a section of loose floorboards, surrounded by more tools than I knew one person could own.

He looks up when we enter, nodding in my direction with the kind of polite acknowledgment that suggests he's not entirely surprised to see me here.

"Afternoon, Dean," he says, then returns his attention to guiding Lila through whatever project they're working on. "Okay, one more time. Remember what I told you about the angle."

I watch Lila position the hammer with exaggerated care, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrates.

The focus on her face is endearing, but what catches my attention is the subtle shift in her scent.

Warmer than yesterday, deeper, tinged with something that might be curiosity.

When she successfully drives the nail home without bending it, she turns to Callum with a grin that hits me like a physical blow.

"I did it!"

"You did," Callum agrees, and there's something in his voice that makes my jaw tighten involuntarily.

"Dean brought food," Lila announces, turning back to me with that same bright smile. "What kind of food?"

I hold up the container, trying to ignore the way my chest warms at her obvious delight. "Aunt Maeve made stew. She was worried you might be living on toast."

"Maeve is a treasure," Lila says, accepting the container with the kind of reverence most people reserve for religious artifacts.

As she takes it from me, her fingers brush mine, and I catch another whiff of that changed scent.

Richer now, more complex. The brief contact makes my pulse kick up in ways I'm trying very hard to ignore.

"And she's not wrong about the toast situation.

I had peanut butter toast for breakfast because I was afraid to try cooking anything else. "

"You could have called," I say without thinking. "I would have brought you something."

The words hang in the air for a moment, heavier with implication than I intended. Lila blinks at me, and I catch a subtle shift in her scent. Something that spikes with interest, her green apple and white musk taking on a note of surprise that makes my pulse kick up.

"That's very sweet of you," she says softly, and there's something in her voice that makes me want to step closer, to see if I can catch more of that scent change.

"What do you think?" Callum's voice cuts through the moment like a blade, and Lila turns to him without hesitation. "Should we tackle the loose board by the window before dinner?"

"Absolutely," she says with a smile. "I'm getting the hang of this now."

The easy way she responds to him, the way her attention shifts so completely, makes something sink in my chest. I swallow down the urge to say something, to remind her that I'm here too, because that's not fair to either of them. Callum's helping her, and she's grateful. That's how it should be.

Instead, I offer what I hope is a casual smile, though I can feel my whole demeanor brightening.

"Actually, I was thinking, if you need help with any heavy lifting this weekend, I've got the truck.

Could drive you to Pine Valley if you need furniture or anything like that.

" The words tumble out faster than I intended, eager to be useful.

Lila's eyes widen with what looks like genuine gratitude. "That would actually help a lot. I've been putting off buying a sofa because I couldn't figure out how to get it here."

My smile spreads across my face before I can stop it. "Great," I say, probably too quickly, leaning forward slightly like I can't contain my enthusiasm. "Saturday work for you?"

"Saturday's perfect." She pauses, then looks at Callum with a slightly worried expression. "Oh wait, didn't we talk about working on the porch this weekend?"

"Sunday would work better for the porch," Callum says without looking up from his work. "Weather's supposed to be good all weekend."

There's something in his tone that suggests he's as aware of the tension here as I am. We're being polite, civilized, reasonable. We're also both obviously interested in the same woman and trying real hard to pretend we're not.

Lila seems oblivious to what's happening between us, which is probably for the best. She moves around the room collecting scattered nails and screws while Callum explains something about proper spacing for the floorboard supports.

When she kneels to hand him a screwdriver, she brushes close to me, and I have to force myself to focus on the conversation instead of how natural she looks working alongside Callum.

The oversized t-shirt hangs loose on her frame, and there's something endearing about how she's claimed this town as her own with that simple piece of clothing. Her scent seems stronger now, wrapping around me in a way that makes me want to step closer instead of maintaining polite distance.

"So what's the plan for the rest of the evening?" I ask, aiming for conversational and hoping I don't sound as affected as I feel.

"More floorboard repairs," Lila says with a laugh. "Callum's been incredibly patient with my complete lack of construction experience. I think I've learned more about tools in the past two hours than I knew in my entire life."

"She's a quick learner," Callum adds.

"That's great," I manage, because what else am I supposed to say? That I wish I was the one teaching her? That I want to be the person she turns to when she needs help? That watching the two of them work together makes me feel like I'm on the outside of something I want to be part of?

"I should probably head back to the station," I say instead, checking my phone for the time. "My dinner break's almost over."

"Of course," Lila says, walking me toward the door. "Thank you again for the stew. And for the furniture shopping offer. You have no idea how much that helps."

We pause at the front door, and for a moment it's just the two of us in the small entryway. She's close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her green eyes. The urge to reach out and touch the smudge of dust on her cheek is almost overwhelming.

"Lila," I start, though I'm not sure what I'm planning to say.

"Yeah?"

The sound of Callum moving around in the living room, shifting wood, the clink of tools reminds me that we're not alone, that whatever this moment is, it's happening in borrowed time.

"Nothing," I say, stepping back toward the porch. "I'll call you about Saturday."

"I'll look forward to it," she says, and the genuine warmth in her voice almost makes up for the fact that I'm walking away from her again.

Almost.

I make it to my truck before I allow myself to look back. Lila waves from the doorway, her smile bright and uncomplicated, completely unaware that she just cracked something open in me that I'm not sure how to put back together.