Page 26

Carson

I haven’t slept in two damn nights.

Maybe it’s my old age. But one thing is for sure: it has nothing to do with the thoughts Wren has running through my mind with that damn list.

Not at all.

Stepping out the front door, I sip my coffee while making my way down the familiar path to the mailbox. After pulling it open, I sort through the stack of envelopes. Bills, junk, and a coupon for a pizza place that doesn’t even deliver out here.

I close the rusted door and allow myself to peek down the dirt road toward Wren’s place. I stop short when I notice a truck there that I don’t recognize.

“What the fuck?” I mutter to myself.

Wren isn’t the type to just go home with someone, so I’m not too worried that’s what’s going on. But then that little voice in my head reminds me that she wants to try things, and I can’t help but think maybe she has found a partner willing to help her out.

Or maybe someone’s bothering her.

Yeah, let’s go with that.

“Son of a bitch.”

I quickly walk inside the house and toss the mail onto the kitchen table, along with my coffee mug.

I throw on a pair of jeans, slide on my boots, and grab my keys. Less than a minute later, I pull up to her house.

When I step onto her porch with no plan, no excuse, and no good reason for being this riled up, I realize I have no idea what I’m going to say.

Why the hell am I here?

Oh, hey, Wren. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t lettin’ some other guy tie you up and gag you or anything.

Before I have time to come up with a reason for being here so early in the morning, the front door swings open. A man who looks a whole helluva lot like me steps out.

“Oh…” I catch him off guard, and he steps back, turning his head into the house. “There’s someone here for you,” he announces behind him.

He gives me a quick nod and walks past. He doesn’t seem like he’s giving her trouble, so I let him go, more interested in locating Wren and making sure she’s alright.

“Hey!” Wren greets as she comes to the door. Her eyes dim in confusion. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Who was that?” I ask, skipping pleasantries.

“Oh, that’s Chris. He’s just helpin’ me out with somethin’. What are you doin’ here?”

“With what?” This isn’t my fucking business, but the possessive side of me strongly disagrees.

Her gaze averts to her socked feet as she crosses her arms in front of her. “Umm. He’s...”

My stomach feels like it’s about to drop to my feet as she stands in front of me, looking guilty. What the hell could she be guilty of? We’re just friends… So she couldn’t have done anything wrong.

“Okay, I don’t need the details,” I state before she can find her answer to my question—a question that shouldn’t be so difficult to answer.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Didn’t recognize the truck, and it’s early for company.” Before I make it one step off the porch, her hand reaches out for me.

“Carse, wait,” she softly giggles. “He’s a handyman. I called and made an appointment for him to look at my dryer. It quit workin’ yesterday.”

Halle-fucking-lujah.

The relief that courses through my chest, stomach, and my entire body is instant at her words. Knowing that this guy is only here for an appliance fix calms my racing heart.

“Why didn’t you just ask me or one of your brothers?” I question, my brow knitted. “You know any one of us could have helped you with that.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to bother anyone and ask for help. You all have lives of your own, things of your own to fix and take care of.” She shrugs one shoulder.

My eyes drop against my will. My attention is now fixated on the fact that she’s in pajamas. Tiny pajama shorts. Tank top. No bra.

Jesus.

That possessive side rears its ugly head again, and I have the urge to ask why the hell she greeted the man dressed like that. But once again, it’s not my place.

I look away. “Go get dressed. I’ll stay out here and talk to Chad.”

“Chris.”

“Whatever.”

She smirks. “Okay, grump-o. I’ll be right back.” Her hand pats my exposed forearm that’s crossed over my chest.

Her retreating figure happily bounds down the hallway to her room. My eyes struggle to pull away from the purple, thin-strapped top and shorts she’s wearing.

“Alright, like I said, I think I know what the problem is. Let’s go?—”

“You can leave,” I cut the man off as he enters the house.

With a furrowed brow, he scans the room for Wren as he stands in the doorway. “I’m sorry…do you live here?”

“No,” I respond, releasing a sigh. “But your services are no longer needed, Chad.” I step closer, lowering my arms from their crossed position over my chest.

He doesn’t budge from his spot in the doorway, peering down the hall at Wren’s closed bedroom door. “I’m gonna need to talk to?—”

“Here.” I reach for my wallet and toss a hundred-dollar bill at him. “This more than covers your time.”

Chad grabs the money and looks back at me with a quick shrug as he turns to leave. “Alright. But tell her I’ll give her a call?—”

“No. You won’t. We’re good here.”

I push the door shut and hear the man mumble a curse on the other side. A few seconds later, his old pickup roars to life, and the sound of gravel under tires is easy to hear in the quiet house.

I exhale. Hard.

Why the hell did she call someone? She should have called me .

I’m not sure what pisses me off more: the fact that she didn’t think she could call me, or even her brothers for help, or that she was walking around her house in practically her underwear with some strange fucking guy.

“Did Chris figure it out?” Wren adjusts her ponytail as she steps out of her room. “Where is he? Is he still outside?” she asks when she doesn’t see him with me or next to the dryer in the kitchen.

I shake my head. “He had to leave.”

“What? He just got here! I had an appointment!” She lets out a frustrated sigh, her head falling back.

“I need dry clothes, Carson! I had to use a clothesline yesterday. Everything was stiff as a board and didn’t smell as good.

” She lets out another exaggerated sigh and stomps toward the kitchen. “I’ll just call another?—”

“I’ll fix it.”

She turns to face me, shaking her head. “No. You have a house to remodel and a diner to fix. You are not addin’ my problems to your list.”

You have got to be kidding me. She can offer help to everyone while her plate overflows, but no one can help her unless it’s their job?

I think the fuck not.

“Wren, let me fix your damn dryer. I’ve done it a time or two. It’s not hard. Probably just the belt.”

Another soft sigh passes through her nose, and she pauses to think for a moment. It seems like the right time to remind her of my experience with dryers.

“Remember who worked part-time as a handyman during his first year of culinary school?” I raise a brow. “I promise I can do this, and it won’t take long. And it won’t cost you an arm and a leg like he was about to charge you.” I gesture over my shoulder toward the door.

“Fine,” she relents with a sigh. “But I am paying you.”

“No, you’re not?—”

“ Yes , I am.”

The woman has clearly put her foot down, and I’d be dumb to argue with her.

“Fine. You can cook me dinner next time.”

She nods and grins, a light, amused chuckle escaping her lips. “That should be interesting.”

The rest of my morning passed in a blur. The belt on Wren’s dryer had slipped off. It was a quick fix that only cost me a little time. She went to work while I stayed at her place and repaired it.

By the time I got to the diner, the electricians had returned and completed their work. I paid them, and they were happily on their way.

I was left alone for the rest of the day with my thoughts—never a good place to be.

I have no right to be possessive over Wren. Protective, yes. But not possessive.

I turned down the opportunity to help her explore her curiosity. I have no right to intervene and stop anyone else she might approach in the future.

But dammit, I don’t trust anyone else with her. I never fucking have, and I don’t think I ever will.

Cal

You busy next Saturday?

I press his contact and put the phone on speaker.

“Hello, Carson.” Cal sounds annoyed, but I don’t care. He knows I don’t text.

“Just workin’ on the diner. Why?”

“I’m takin’ Luce and the girls out to the lake. Thought I’d see if you and Wren would like to join us. Wild and Ind aren’t sure if they’ll be there or not.”

I don’t miss the way he bunched Wren and me together like we’re a couple.

“Are you expectin’ me to answer for your sister?”

“You two practically live together, don’t you? Figured it wouldn’t hurt you to ask her.”

“We do not live together. We live on the same road. Big difference.”

He lets out a sigh. “Well, same thing. You gonna come or what? Bring the boat out. We can go out to the cove and make a day of it. Luce already started a list of food for me to buy. I’ll let you grill, World’s Okayest Cook .”

I shake my head. “I’ll see what I can do and get back to you.”

“Alright. Shit—I gotta run,” he says as a baby cries in the background. “Ask Wren.”

“Sure,” I respond as our call abruptly ends.

To say that Cal and Lucy have their hands full with those twins is the understatement of the century.

I open my phone and do the one thing I hate doing with anyone else.

You free next Saturday?

I don’t expect a quick reply since she’s working, but one bounces in a few minutes later.

Tink

I am!

Your brother is inviting everyone to the lake. You wanna go?

Tink

Are you going?

Why the fuck does it make me happy that she’s basing her answer on mine?

Most likely.

I can’t let her know that I’m only going if she’s going.

Tink

Okay. If your answer is yes, so is mine.