Page 19 of The Love Fix (The Sunrise Cove #8)

Lexi spent the next few days attempting to put that night in the tent beneath the stars with Heath out of her head, trying

to forget the warm connection they’d made, the fun they’d had, the way his kisses had awakened her body, making her hungry

in ways she’d forgotten about.

She and Ashley spent a lot of hours slowly making their way through the garage, which had decades of stuff packed into it.

They found a lot of junky furniture that Ashley got excited about restoring and selling. And then a pair of end tables that,

if they’d been in prime condition, might’ve fetched them a mint. Even a little dinged up and worse for wear though, Lexi thought

they could still get a grand apiece for them.

“Look at these,” Ashley said, holding up a pair of gaudy brass and gold salt and pepper shakers. “Definitely toss pile, right?”

Lexi looked them over. “These are from Liberace’s collection, and they’re worth several thousand dollars.”

“But... why ?”

Lexi laughed. Trust Daisy to have shoved things of incredible value in with things that were solely sentimental and treated them all the same.

And then there’d been the highly collectible ceramic Dickens village pieces still in their original boxes on the shelves lining

one wall. Not worth what they once had been, but worth selling.

“Pretty!” Ashley said. “Let’s set up the village!”

“This whole set is probably worth thousands.”

Ashley bit her lower lip, and Lexi knew they weren’t selling. They hadn’t unearthed anything else of monetary value, but Ashley

didn’t seem to mind. She said she was just excited to be hanging out.

Lexi had to admit, it had been nice. More than nice. It’d been the best time she’d had in... well, she couldn’t even remember.

They laughed over silly stuff, ate each other’s food, jokingly critiquing whether healthy or junk food served them best.

Turned out, it was a tie.

Making everything even better, she now had two new clients. Each a family estate that needed to be gone through and evaluated,

one in South Shore, and the other right here in Sunrise Cove, both of which would provide her several weeks of work.

All in all, she was no longer resenting every moment in Sunrise Cove.

Four nights after Tent-Gate, as she was calling it, she looked at the bedside clock.

Two in the morning, and she was no closer to sleep than she had been hours ago.

Giving up, she slid out of bed and went to the window, staring out at the part of the yard that Ashley had taken over with her large garden.

The rest of the land was overgrown and neglected.

They still had to talk about whether to sell or not, but either way, they’d have a lot to clean up.

Beyond their yard, she could see the vague outline of the back of Heath’s grandpa’s house.

It was dark—except for the single light burning through the night.

Someone else couldn’t sleep.

Huh. Maybe she needed some fresh air. Uh-huh, and the Easter Bunny is real...

She pulled a pair of thick, baggy sweats over her pj’s, stepped into her fake Uggs, and slipped out the kitchen door.

For that fresh air.

To prove to herself that was all she needed, she sat on the top porch step. Sunrise Cove sat at high altitude, 6,300 feet,

which meant they usually had a drastic temperature drop in the evenings, even in summer. Tonight she found herself shivering

in the forty-two-degree temp, and thought about going back inside for a coat.

Then decided to walk instead.

She’d just go to the end of the yard and pick an apple from the tree. Yep, and she also had some swampland to sell herself...

At the base of the tree, she reached up and grabbed two apples, shoving them into her sweatpants pocket.

Then stared at the lone light still burning from that small side door window of the garage. A tall, built shadow moved inside,

and she could’ve sworn she heard something. The rev of a power tool, maybe. So either a serial killer... or Heath.

She didn’t realize she’d moved until she climbed through the break in the fence between their yards. Maybe it was Gus. Maybe

Heath wasn’t even home and his grandpa needed something. Maybe he was hurt. She sped up. Just to make sure everything was

okay, of course.

When she got to the door, she peered in the window, getting a front-row view of Heath, a sander in hand, bent over a piece

of furniture that looked like it might be a bathroom vanity. An old one.

He wore no shirt, just a pair of low-slung sweatpants cupping an A-plus ass as he leaned into the task, sawdust spinning in the air all around him, lit up like tiny specks of gold in the light hanging from the rafters above.

The smooth muscle and sinew of his back, shoulders, and arms bunched and released as he moved with easy grace, and her eyes ate him up.

Stupid eyes.

Mayhem lay a few feet from Heath, snoozing. Lexi lifted her hand to give a light knock, but before she could, both dog and

man turned, four sharp eyes unerringly landing on her.

Mayhem yipped with joy at the sight of their unexpected guest. Much more muted, Heath set the sander down and headed to the

door, meeting her gaze with absolutely no indication of how he felt about his middle-of-the-night visitor.

He had no idea why he was so surprised to see her. Lexi had been surprising nearly all their lives. He took in the oversize

sweats and boots, hair loose and a little bit wild, and nearly smiled at the adorably sexy vision. Nearly, but not, because

in the days since that night in the tent, he’d almost managed to convince himself that he’d dodged a bullet.

But looking into her pretty eyes, he knew he was full of shit. It made him feel like he’d stepped onto a Tilt-A-Whirl—upside

down and inside out.

“Hey.” She gave him a little wave, then grimaced. “I saw the light and just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

He found his voice. “I should be asking you that question. It’s the middle of the night. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Why aren’t you?” she countered.

“I needed to get some stuff done. Is everything okay? Sorry, Mayhem has zero chill.”

The dog had turned into a wriggle worm, his tail knocking against the doorframe, fussing over their guest, trying to lick her to death.

“Mayhem. Calm.”

Mayhem did the opposite, getting the zoomies, racing around the garage like the Tasmanian Devil. Cutting a corner too tight,

he skidded and careered into a shelving unit, immediately leaping up to begin again, ears flopping, a wide smile on his face,

tongue lolling out.

“I think your dog’s broken,” Lexi said.

“I blame his previous master.”

The dog, having finally let go of all his pent-up energy, trotted back and sat at his feet. “Good boy.” Heath rested an affectionate

hand on his head as they both looked at Lexi. “You’re okay?”

“Yes.”

But she didn’t sound sure. Worried, he stepped back, gesturing for her to come in.

She didn’t move.

He studied her face. “Something’s wrong.”

“Um... no.” She shook her head. “I mean... Not really.”

“Okaaaaay.” He tried to read her mind and failed. “Do you want to stay standing in the doorway, or...”

She eyed the garage beyond him, but still paused, and he felt his lips twitch. “You’ve come this far.”

She rolled her eyes, though he wasn’t sure if it was for him or her. But she did finally step past his ferocious guard dog,

who let her through for the price of scratching behind his ears and a belly rub.

Just inside, she stopped.

Mayhem stared sweetly up into her eyes, leaning so hard on her that she nearly toppled over.

“I’m sorry.” Heath turned to the ridiculous dog. “She doesn’t need support right now, buddy.”

Mayhem just leaned on Lexi, thumbing his nose at his fearless leader.

Lexi laughed and bent to pet him some more before looking around, taking in the space that Heath had claimed as his own.

He’d pretty much turned it into a woodshop filled with tools and other projects waiting their turn.

“Looks like I’m interrupting something important,” she said.

“I’m restoring a bathroom vanity for a friend of my grandpa’s.” Post stroke, Mrs. Cromwell was now in a wheelchair and couldn’t

afford to make her home more accessible. His grandpa had offered Heath’s services. Ironic, the man who wanted Heath to slow

down was also the one who kept bringing him work, but Heath knew Mrs. Cromwell. She’d been one of his English teachers back

in middle school and was one of the few to actually give a shit about him and Cole, so agreeing had been a no-brainer.

“You’re busy,” Lexi said quietly. “I shouldn’t keep you.”

Keep me... And where that thought came from, he had no idea. “It’s okay, I’m done working for the night.”

She cocked her head. “I wasn’t aware you worked these days.”

The Heath of just a few weeks ago would’ve offered her a mocking smile and made a joke to deter her, but he couldn’t stomach

the game anymore. The game where it amused him to let her think the worst of him. They’d begun opening up to each other, going

from adversaries to friends to... well, factoring in their chemistry and those off-the-charts kisses they’d shared, also

far more. A terrifying thought. “You never asked.”

She just blinked. “I did.”

He gave a slow headshake.

She stared at him some more, and a flush rose to her cheeks. “Oh my God. You’re right. I didn’t. At the airport, you joked

about not being a nine-to-fiver, and later Ashley, and also your grandpa, teased you about being a man of leisure. I...

I made assumptions, and I shouldn’t have.” She paused. “A part of me knew I had to be missing something. I’m sorry.” She gave

a tentative smile. “Is it too late to ask now?”

If he was smart, he’d scare her off with a resounding yes . But apparently he wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure.” She eyed the open bottle on the workbench next to him. “Whatever you’re having.”

He grabbed the bottle and poured some into the tumbler next to it and then handed it over. “Whiskey.”