Page 5 of When We Were More (Aron Falls #1)

T illie

I’m wearing two different colored heels—one navy blue and one black.

Damn it. I’m already ten minutes from home on the way to work when I realize it.

At the next cross street, I turn the car around and force myself to follow the speed limit while I drive back home.

I hate the idea of being late to work and giving Will any more ammunition to give me a hard time.

He’s another one who gets on my last nerve enough to loosen my tongue for me to tell him exactly what I think. We’ve been going back and forth over the future of my smaller accounts for months. My blood boils again when I recall Jeff, our boss, siding with Will on this issue. Once again.

Will and I started at Stinson Accounting around the same time, and he’s my professional peer, not my boss. He seems to forget that detail regularly. We got along okay when I started working there five years ago, at least at first.

I count Stinson as my first “real” job because it was the first one after my divorce.

During the last year and a half of my marriage, I barely worked because it caused too much animosity and stress between my husband and me.

Joe used to say it was “the man’s job to take care of his wife,” and my working was “a slap in the face” to him.

When I finally left him, I realized it was simply one more way to control me.

Little or no money means little or no options.

I was convinced I was stuck for a long time.

My jaw clenches when I consider what I became while I was living with that man—how I had to suppress who I was to keep the peace in our home.

There was no way I was even remotely interested in getting involved with another man.

So, when Will started asking me out early in our tenure at Stinson, I declined for several reasons.

First of all, the obvious horrible situation I was coming out of.

Plus, we work together, and I don’t need that drama.

Then there’s the fact that nothing about him appealed to me.

Apparently, that’s not something he was used to, because he didn’t seem able to understand or accept that I wasn’t into him romantically.

When he finally did get it, he started acting differently.

He was difficult to work with, subtly making digs at my work when we were around influential people.

None of that matters in the long run. Not if I follow through on my promise to Gram and pursue my goal of opening my own accounting firm.

I’ll take on the type of clients I want and have the work environment I want.

Everybody will get equal treatment, unlike at Stinson, where there are clear favorites.

Plus, once I’m out on my own, I won’t be dependent on anyone else. For anything. Decisions will be mine and I won’t be under anyone’s control but my own. Hopefully, that will bring me the peace I long for in my work life.

Will is one of the major reasons I’m eager to move on from Stinson. I’m a saver, and I’ve got enough put away now that I’m very close to being able to hand in my notice and open my own firm. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to convince my new bestie, Shannon, into joining me, which is great.

When I met Shannon and instantly clicked with her, I was both surprised and thrilled.

I don’t have many friends. Okay, I don’t have any friends—at least from my generation.

But now I have Shannon. We’re basically two peas in a pod, because she doesn’t have any friends, either—besides her sisters, Shyley and Shayna.

Unfortunately, she’s going through a divorce.

The big difference there is that she has four kids, and her husband is nothing like Joe.

Sometimes, when I watch her face as she talks about her soon-to-be-ex, I wonder if she still even wants a divorce.

Suddenly, I’m in my driveway, and I don’t even remember the trip. I got a little lost in my head, and my thoughts took over on the drive. It’s not uncommon for that to happen.

When I get inside the house, I head to the kitchen first, wanting to make sure the workers are aware I’m here.

I get to the doorway and see one beanpole-thin man working on the plumbing by the sink area.

Another is working on the electrical, where I asked for extra outlets.

Because the house is quite old, the wiring is outdated, so they’re upgrading it—at least in the kitchen area.

I’m happy there are multiple guys working because that means it’ll get done faster.

I’m shocked when I glance over by the window and see Henry there, kneeling on the ground, inspecting the pile of trim again .

It’s very odd how many times that man has inspected the pieces of wood. He doesn’t notice me, but the other two men must hear me and turn my way.

“Hi, guys, I’m Tillie, the homeowner. Thanks for being here.”

The two men introduce themselves, and Henry stands, turning to face me.

“Hello, M?—”

“If you say ma’am , I’m gonna take off one of these shoes and whip it at you.”

A grin spreads across his face, and I swear the man seems to enjoy riling me up.

I shouldn’t have mentioned my shoes because now he’s studying them, his brow furrowing in confusion. He glances back up and makes eye contact with me.

“Are you aware your shoes are two different colors?”

I sigh, my shoulders dropping. “Yes. I got dressed in a rush this morning and accidentally picked two different ones. That’s why I’m back. I can’t go to work like this, so I came home to change my shoes.”

Why am I explaining this to him?

I offer a small smile, hoping to diffuse some of the tension we had with each other yesterday.

Despite first impressions, I’m pleased to see him here—he seems to be some kind of foreman, based on how he spoke and acted yesterday.

He’s likely here to check things out, make sure the guys are sure of what to do.

He did promise to oversee things himself for a few days.

He says nothing, eyes fixed on my shoes again, fighting back a smirk, but his efforts make those stupid dimples pop. Asshole.

“Yeah, um, I’m going to fix this situation and then leave.” I glance over at the two younger men. “Nice to meet you both.” I give them a quick wave and head to change my shoes.

Once upstairs, it only takes me a few seconds to find the correct shoe. There, now I match. I make my way carefully down the steep farmhouse stairs—these heels are fairly high—and when I get to the first landing, I stop. Standing before the front door, the one I need to leave through, is Henry.

My heels clicking on the wooden steps must have alerted him that I was coming, giving him the advantage of seeing me before I saw him. His eyes are glued to the lower half of me, watching as my body moves with each tenuous downward step I take.

As if it’s not bad enough that I appear like I’m intentionally sashaying down the steps when I’m really trying not to die from a traumatic fall, his slack jaw and wide eyes make me even more self-conscious than usual.

It’s obvious I’m not a size four. These annoying curves of mine laugh in the face of anything even remotely near that size.

But I don’t need him outright judging me in my own home.

When I get to the finish line, I cross my arms over my chest.

“Can I help you with something?” The sharpness of my tone makes it clear I’m irritated. I hope it does, anyway.

His head snaps up, and he clears his throat.

At least he has the decency to be embarrassed, if his reddened cheeks are any indication.

He shakes his head, and I’m pleased with myself that I seem to have flustered him.

Good, that’s what he gets for body-shaming a woman in her own home, even if it was only with his eyes.

“You, um, you said goodbye to the guys but not me.”

I stare at him. He can’t be serious. “What?”

He squares his shoulders. His facial expression and body language now exude confidence. Like what he just said wasn’t weird.

“Yeah. You said goodbye to Tommy and Jay but forgot me. I figured that was a mistake, and I came to see if you meant to do that or…”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You ambush me at the bottom of the stairs because, what, your feelings are hurt?” The sarcasm drips from my voice.

“What? Um, no. Also, I didn’t ambush you. I was going to the truck to get something. I wasn’t waiting here for you.”

“Mmm hmm. Okay, well, whichever it is, I need to go…”

He doesn’t move, not even a bit. I huff.

“You’re blocking the door.”

He responds almost immediately, twisting and grabbing the handle, pulling the heavy wooden door open with ease before gesturing me forward.

“Ladies first.”

Everything in me wants to insist he go out first to prevent him from judging my ass in this skirt.

Instead, I summon my inner goddess and accept that my body shape is too curvy for some men, and I won’t let that define me.

Then, pretending I have all the confidence in the world, I stroll past him, across the porch, and down the steps.

I’m about to climb into my car when he calls out. “Ma—Tillie?” I glance up at him and give him the most disinterested expression I can muster. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Am I? I didn’t bring anything in from the car when I got back here. I’m not sure what he’s talking about.

Then, the grin threatening to spread across his face gives it away.

I roll my eyes. “ Goodbye , Henry.” Now I’m the one trying not to grin. I remind myself that I don’t like him.

“That’s better. Goodbye. Until we see each other again. Soon.”

“Too soon, I’m sure,” I mumble to myself. I climb into my vehicle and pull out as quickly as I can.