Every instinct said yes, but my idiot mouth said no.
I hadn’t lied—there was no room to add anything else into my life, not without a sacrifice I didn’t know how to make. A flash of guilt had cut me down the middle at the thought of dating. Not that I hadn’t considered it, but I’d never imagined anything with the detail I imagined kissing Daisy. But I had kissed approximately one girl in my life, outside of Jenny Andrews in the first grade under the monkey bars. I’d only dated one girl, a girl I married.
The obvious takeaway was that I had no idea what I was doing, but that wasn’t the bulk of it.
It felt like a betrayal of my old life. Ridiculous, I knew. But my loss dictated that I wasn’t allowed to be happy with someone else, not without letting go of something I’d been hanging on to for so long, my hands had turned to stone.
Truth was, it was easier to say no than deal with everything that came along with saying yes.
If I wasn’t standing in my own way, Daisy was everything I could ever want.
Giving and kind, clever and determined. She had a softness about her that I knew could toughen in a heartbeat if she had something to defend. She made me laugh when no one—outside of people I shared DNA with—could. The more I was around her, the more I wanted to be around her. And though I didn’t know her well, I knew well enough. And I wanted to know more.
I just didn’t know how to make that jump.
Instead of taking the time to figure it out, I reprimanded myself the whole way home, then reprimanded my brothers for having set me up. I would have reprimanded Sophie too, if she hadn’t been asleep. Though by all estimates, she would have gotten off with nothing more than a hard look and a You too?
I thought all night about seeing Daisy the next day, found myself unsure what to wear, wondered if I should clean up my beard, wondered why I wondered about it, then realized with no small amount of reproach that I was nervous about spending the day at work with her.
My biggest problem was that I’d blown it with Daisy, and I told myself it was for the best. I had enough to deal with between my duty to our teetering business and the shelter build. I couldn’t give Daisy what she needed. I didn’t know how to give that much of myself anymore. Everything else in my life wasn’t giving—it was doing, and for the sake of the people I loved. The fortunate byproduct was that the doing involved most of my time, giving me space to be alone.
It felt easier, being alone.
I thought about this all the way to the Blum’s property, and when I pulled into the lot, I was both relieved and disappointed that she wasn’t there yet. Once I’d parked and made a few rounds, including a stop by the protesters so I could glare at them for a long, hard minute, I headed into the office and unpacked my laptop, shifting my thoughts to bigger problems.
Our accountant—and the only other human who knew the state of our books—had sent me the quarter’s reports. Red was the color of my worries, as we hadn’t even broken even for the month. We’d taken on too many new guys without increasing our revenue. Then there was the Baker family, their roof rotted and leaking, and Jessie Baker with a new baby. The price I gave them was only a hair over what it would cost me, and I’d told them to pay me back a portion every month until we were square. Then there was the Main Street restoration, which seemed to never end. But it was another pro bono project, one of too many.
I’d spread myself too thin, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d have a critical tear to mend.
I was deep in the midst of staring a hole in the numbers on screen when Daisy walked in.
There was something extraordinary about her, something latent in her that turned every face to hers when she entered a room. It wasn’t just her smile, but the way the tilt of her lips lifted her cheeks and what it did to her eyes, how it made them spark alive. It was in the tone of her voice, the easy lilt and sweet sound, a song that made everyone she spoke to feel like they were important. Like they were wanted and loved.
It was how she greeted me, as if last night never happened, a blip of fantasy we’d only imagined.
As she settled in at her desk, I wondered if I really had imagined it.
Until she asked with that easy smile, “Do your brothers sill have all their limbs?”
A laugh slipped out of me. “Yeah, but I can’t account for all their teeth. How about your sisters? You didn’t do anything rash like replace their conditioner with Nair?”
“I used your napkin trick on their shoes. They didn’t think it was funny.”
“Good.”
Her face was light, full of hope without expectation. “But I’ve gotta hand it to them—I really did enjoy your company.”
“I did too. Enjoy your company, that is,” I stammered like a dumbass.
Fortunately, she seemed to find my idiocy endearing. “Maybe someday we can do it again. As friends.”
“Sure,” I answered noncommittally, but she was unshaken as she turned to her laptop and got to work.
The thought struck me that maybe she didn’t really want to date me after all. Maybe her suggestion was just that—a convenience without any feelings to put behind it. My deep and aching disappointment told me more than I wanted to admit.
I played over last night through that lens, considering everything she said from a place of mild interest, nothing more. And there was nothing that indicated otherwise, aside from the awkward, charged hug we’d shared. I didn’t know how it’d happened, exactly. Maybe it was a telegraph of my desire for her, the feeling I’d been trying so hard to keep in check. But when she threaded her arms around my neck and tucked her head under my chin, I’d closed my eyes and basked in her, in the warmth of her touch, in the comfort she gave with every breath that left her lips. It had been a long, long time since I’d been hugged, truly hugged.
In fact, I’d been starved for affection for so long, I’d forgotten how it felt to be loved.
My eyes were trained on my screen as my thoughts wandered and the stone in my chest grew heavy.
Too many feelings. Just another reason to avoid Daisy—she dredged up too many thoughts, thoughts that were better off staying where they were.
The door to the temporary building flew open, and my foreman Jace walked in, his face colored in anger.
“Inspector’s here.”
“Oh?”
“It’s Mason.”
I swore under my breath and pushed away from my desk, rising to deal with the decidedly problematic extension of our mayor.
John Mason stood just at the bottom of the steps with a clipboard in his hand, scanning the site with the scrutiny of a drill sergeant about to make an example out of somebody. That somebody being me.
“Mornin’, John,” I said in my most diplomatic tone. “What can I do for you?”
“Just a routine inspection, shouldn’t be long. Anything I should know about?”
The weaselly son of a bitch wore a gotcha smile I’d have loved to wipe off his face. Instead, I smiled.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. You’ll let me know if you need anything?”
“Sure will. Mind if I pop in when I’m finished for your signature?”
“’Course. I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee for you.”
He didn’t answer, just gave me that terrible smile and a nod before wandering off toward the site.