“How’d it go?” I ask, taking Finn in my free arm and giving him some love.
“We’re both alive,” Slade jokes, kissing the side of my head. “It’s a success. How are things here?”
I exhale, looking back at the house. “I’ve got a few things packed up to take back, but most everything from the kitchen and den is ruined,” I say, holding up the canvas. “Except this. I found it in the cabinet in the den. It’s a little wet, but I think it can be saved.” He just stares at it blankly, his eyes a dark pit. “It’s your mom and you, right?”
He takes it from me and walks a few feet away without a word.
“Slade,” I say, touching his arm to stop him. “I’m sorry if the picture upsets you. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You thought my dead mother would, what? Make me happy?”
“No, I just . . .”
“Not now,” he barks.
I stand there for a second—stunned but not sure why. I’ve never been able to count on anyone, much less a man, so why did I expect Slade to be different? But I did.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d react this way. I thought you’d be happy it wasn’t ruined,” I say. Walking away from him, I head to the stables to see the horses, to see for myself that Whiskey is alright.
I hold Finn a little tighter, wiping my face. Too much has happened in the past twenty-four hours. I need to give myself some space to think about things.
The stables held up well in the storm. It’s a mess but sustained no real damage. The guys have been here all day getting things back into shape and working to calm the horses. I find my spot by Whiskey’s door, leaning my head down. He walks right over, letting me pet him. Whoever came up with therapeutic horseback riding was really onto something. I feel my heart rate easing up with each stroke.
“Hey,” Clay says, coming up beside me, stroking Finn’s arm.
Finn reaches out to him. Finn is a very friendly baby, but maybe he’s starved for male attention or something. He seems to love any attention from his fellow sex, so I go ahead and let Clay hold him.
“I tried to call you over and over again the night of the storm,” Clay says. “I was so worried about you.”
“My phone died,” I say, not really looking at him.
“I’m a jerk. I shouldn’t have ignored you,” he says. “It’s just, Slade’s my boss, and I need this job.”
“It’s okay.”
He elbows me slightly. “I should’ve told him to go to hell.”
“Me, too,” I say, smiling.
We stand there talking for a while, catching up. I’m not sure if I should, but I tell him that my relationship with Slade has changed. I don’t give any other details, but he gets the idea. And he seems okay with it. He makes me promise that I’ll let him give me my first riding lesson soon and tells me to call him if I need anything or want to hang out since I won’t be around as much while repairs are being done. I tell him about a couple of classes I’m thinking of taking next semester, and he seems happy for me, just like a friend should be.
Clay looks over his shoulder, a worried crease in his brow as Slade appears in the opening of the stable. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle him,” I say.
Clay laughs, handing Finn back to me. “See you later.”
I walk toward Slade, who’s holding his ground. Stubborn asshole refuses to walk over to me. Well, I’ll show him. I walk right past him, seeing him smirk at me out of the corner of my eye. I hear him following me and turn around, halting him. I hate the amused look on his face. “Two words,” I say. “I only want to hear two words come out of your mouth.”
“Which two?” he asks, clearly thinking he’s funny.
“Try again.” Finn starts to squirm, wanting to get down and have some freedom. Slade takes him from me, kneeling so Finn’s feet are touching the grass. He holds him there, like Finn’s standing on his own. Finn’s feet are moving all around as he giggles. I hope this isn’t an indication that he’s going to walk early.
Slade’s blue eyes look up at me. “I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t talk about my mom.”
“You can just tell me that. You don’t have to be an asshole.”
“You’re right,” he says.
I flash him a smile. “Those are the two words every woman loves to hear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SLADE
Sidestepping debris, I survey the house with Jon. The initial timeframe for repairs is four to six months. Apparently, the water damage is the real killer. Doesn’t matter if you get one inch or a foot, still have to repair sheetrock, guard against mold, and redo floors and cabinetry. Since we’re trying to maintain the building’s original character, everything will have to be custom. It’s going to be a major hassle, costly, and keep me in the city for most of the rest of the year.
“Contractor hopes to have you in for Christmas,” Jon says, picking up one of Finn’s toys that’s now ruined and handing it to me, an I told you so look in his eyes.
Christmas? I look down at the broken toy in my hand, realizing I don’t know Finn’s birthday. Will he be one by Christmas? Will he like Santa? I haven’t had a tree since I was a kid. I’ll have to get one this year. A big one.
Without a word to Jon, I walk to the door, seeing Paige changing Finn’s diaper in the back of my car. They never advertised that as a feature when I bought the Land Rover. I guess it can handle a diaper change. “Paige,” I call out. Her head turns to me. “Will Finn be one at Christmas? When’s his birthday?”
Her smile is priceless. “December first.”
“Planning his party already,” I say, giving her a little wink.
“You’ve had a lot of practice recently,” she says, finishing up and walking toward me.
“Construction theme?” I say, shrugging.
She laughs, Finn following her lead, and I wrap my arm around her, stopping her from coming back into the house with Finn. Jon joins us outside. “I know Catrine was supposed to work until the baby comes, but if it’s okay with you, I’d . . .”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I understand. This is a mess. The last thing I need is Catrine stepping on a nail or tripping. Tell her to enjoy her last few days of sleep.”
“I will,” Jon says, then looks at Paige. “Stay in touch with her?”
“I will,” she says as Jon leaves.
“Why don’t you and Finn go back, too?” I say to her. “Finn doesn’t need to be out here, and you’re still recovering. I’ll just be an hour or so.” She nods. “Jon’s right. I’d rather you and Finn not be out here either,” I say. “I know you want to oversee things, but . . .”
“My job is the house,” she says firmly. “The stables.”
“You can mail the guys their checks from Nashville. You don’t need to be out here to do that.”
“You mean from your place?” she asks.
“Four to six months, Paige,” I say. “You can’t live in a hotel that long.”