“You continually surprise me, Malichai, in a good way.” There was genuine surprise in her voice.
“I think that’s easy enough to do, honey. You don’t have high expectations of me.”
Color climbed up her neck to her face, turning that pale complexion a soft rose. “I’m sorry. Am I coming across as a hag?”
“You’re coming across as someone protecting her friend from a stranger. I know I don’t look like a nice guy. I expect a little bit of resistance when I’m helping out a woman who works far too hard.”
Amaryllis studied his face for a long time. He could feel that look, drifting over his face like the brush of fingers, barely there, but taking his entire focus.
“I don’t know why you think you don’t look like a nice guy. You look tough, like you can handle yourself, but you don’t look mean.”
He sat back and looked up her. “Then why are you afraid of me?”
At once the wary look crept back into her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”
That was very decisive, and he wanted to smile, but held back. Yeah. She was afraid of him, but not in the way he’d been talking about. He was dangerous to her in more ways than was good for either of them.
“Good. Then we can get this done before we have to do the mountain of dishes Marie is piling up for us.” He turned back to the machine, making certain that he could keep her in his sight at all times without appearing to do so. He was still uneasy. There was something a little bit off about Amaryllis. “What do you have for me?”
“I’m looking. Apparently, dishwashers drain any standing water out as a first step.”
“Wait. There can’t be leftover water if we didn’t start it.”
“There’s standing water in the bottom that didn’t drain. If you didn’t hear the pump, then it’s possible the timer is the cause. Is the timer on that one electronic or manual?”
“First, the damn thing won’t start so I’m not hearing a thing, but”—he held up his hand to stop her before he could finish—“I’m looking.”
She laughed, the sound settling somewhere in his gut, creating a strange rolling sensation that should have been small, but wasn’t. God, she got to him. The longer he was in her company, the stronger the attraction to her became. And she smelled so damn good, he was afraid he might throw down the tools any minute and spread her out like a feast on the counter so he could devour her.
He forced his attention back to the dishwasher. “It looks like it’s a manual timer.”
“According to this, the timer supplies power to all sorts of things. The pump motor, inlet valve . . .” Her head went up and she frowned at him. “Do you even know what an inlet valve is? Maybe we should call someone.”
“I know what an inlet valve is.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are lying to me. You don’t have a clue.”
“Baby, have some faith.”
She rolled her eyes. “Beside the pump motor and inlet valve, the timer thingy provides power to the heat circuit and to the drain pump motor in the right progression. The timer uses a series of electrical contacts that are driven by a small motor. All of that is encased in the timer housing. I’m reading this and hope it makes sense to you.”
“Yeah. I’ve got it now.” He glanced a second time to make certain the machine wasn’t plugged in. When he did so, he watched Amaryllis out of the corner of his eye. He was very leery of things that didn’t add up, and she was one of them.
“I have to check each of these for continuity with the multimeter. There’s a schematic drawing that shows which is the inlet and which is the pump. Hopefully, we can figure out what’s wrong right here.” He busied himself checking the first one. “How long have you known Marie?”
There was a small silence. He glanced at her over his shoulder. She was fidgeting. Her eyes met his and she shrugged. “About a year. I met her in the grocery store. She needed help and I needed a job. She was, for me, like your Nonny, or more like a sister and mother all rolled into one. I didn’t come from the best circumstances either. Marie showed me that didn’t matter. I could still make something of myself.”
“That’s good. Did you know her husband?” He didn’t know why he asked when he knew the answer, maybe to catch her in a lie. She had no way of knowing his team had investigated Marie before his arrival.
“No. He had already passed away, but she talks about him so much that I feel as if I know him.”
“I think this is it, Amaryllis.” He loved her name. “We’re going to have to order the part and rush it here. So, it looks like dish duty for us for the next few days.”
“She isn’t going to like a guest doing the dishes. I can, but really, thank you for this.”
“Put the part number in and see who has the best price and the fastest delivery. I’m doing the dishes because I told Marie I would and I’m a man of my word. Besides”—he carefully put the tools away—“you’d like to get rid of me so I’m sticking around just to bug you.”
“That’s mean.”
“No, I’m expanding your horizons. Pushing your comfort zone. Showing you that even rough-looking men can be nice.” He finished closing up the machine so he could stand up. Sitting on the floor so long had stiffened his leg. He stumbled a little but caught himself.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He sounded gruff. Maybe even harsh, his voice clipped and abrupt. He was looking better and better to a woman he really wanted to impress.
She didn’t ask again. “Stop fishing for compliments. You do look tough, but you know you’re good-looking.”
He coughed to cover his snort of derision. By no means could he be called good-looking. There were some seriously good-looking men in his unit—and he wasn’t one of them. He didn’t mind her thinking that though.
“You want to wash or dry?”
“I’ll dry. I know where everything goes.”
“You just want to see my tattoos.”
“There is that,” she agreed. Once again, she gave him a small smile and that look that he wasn’t sure how to interpret. “The ones I can see are beautiful. Someone does good work.”
He nodded. “Started going to him when I was in my late teens. Still go back to Chicago so he can do the work on me. You have any?”
She shook her head. “No, but I always wanted one.”
“What would it be?”
She shrugged. “Something very personal to me. Maybe the flower.”
His gut tightened. He turned to survey the stainless-steel sink, not wanting her to see his face just in case his expression changed. “I don’t know much about flowers. My name’s all about the Bible. Malichai was either just a book or a prophet or both, although my mother couldn’t even get the spelling right. That was so like her.” He wasn’t above pushing a little bitterness into his voice, although he’d gotten over that somewhere on the streets of Chicago. “Much rather have a pretty name like yours. Is the flower pretty?”
“I think so. It always looks radiant to me. Very striking depending on the color. The ones I like the most are scarlet.”