Running in Place (Mending Hearts) (8 page)

Score one for me. My job here is done.

Satisfied, I turn on my heel and head back toward the kitchen. As soon as I crouch down to finish the lower cabinets, I hear
flip-flop-flip-flop
. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do then?” she asks from behind me.

“No idea. Why are you asking me?” I start my second coat, still facing forward. After no response, I twist my torso to face her. The look on her face is priceless. It’s one marked with realization and hatred. Her crystal clear blue eyes are as wide as I’ve ever seen them, and her pouty lips I can’t even see because they’re pressed so tightly together, they’re non-existent. It makes me want to burst into laughter, but I maintain my composure.

“What is it?” I ask, rising up and turning toward her fully.

“Well,” she stalls, “It’s just that Trace — well…”

“Tatum, just spit it out.” Obviously agitated, she throws her purse on the kitchen bar before answering.

“Well, Trace told me to ask my supervisor what to do. He said that my
supervisor
would be here when I arrived and to ask him where to start. I had no idea it would be
you
.”

A cocky grin spreads across my face.

Score two.

“And what exactly am I supervising? Your childish behavior or your actual work? I need to know because one of those definitely requires a raise.”

“I hate you,” she lies.

“No you don’t. You don’t even know me. How could you hate me?” My smile gets larger as I watch her try to think up some witty comeback that’s never going to happen.

Deciding to put her out of her misery, I add, “Well, since I’m
supervising
you, I guess I’ll show you where everything is and then you can get started. Everything in all the units is pretty much done. All we have to do is take care of painting the remaining thirty-three units.” I watch the color drain from her face, which I find extremely hilarious.

She gulps. “Thirty-three? I thought it was just this one.”

“Nope. Did you not notice that this is a whole subdivision of duplexes? Hence, the name ‘The Place’ on the gates in the front. Please, tell me you noticed the gates. I’m pretty sure you needed a code to get in.” Her dark eyebrows press together causing wrinkles in her forehead as she tries to remember. I just can’t help myself. “I think all that drinking is depleting your brain cells.”

Okay, so she may hate me.

Another angry eye roll commences. “No,
asshole
. I was thinking about the name. ‘The Place’? And the bar is named ‘The Office’? I’m a little worried about Blake and his lack of ingenuity.”

I start to make a comment regarding how impressed I am with her use of such a large word, but decide against it. “Very true. Maybe you should say something next time you go over there to babysit.”

Her face relaxes and a slight smile appears on her face. “I think I just might. I’m going over there tomorrow anyway. I’ll make sure to mention to him my disappointment in his naming ability.”

But then, her brows furrow and she gives me a questioning glance. “How did you know I babysit for Blake?”

Stunned and unprepared, I think quickly on my feet. “You mentioned it the other day to Sadie at work. I just overheard,” I lie. As per Trace’s request, I know everything about her from merely watching, but she doesn’t need to know that.

She nods, accepting my answer.

Thankful, I look down at my watch, realizing there’s only about an hour until lunch. I guess eleven o’clock is the typical starting time for Tatum. “Well, okay then. We’d better get started.” I bend to put my brush down and then step into the hallway. “Tour?”

“Sure.” She falls into step behind me as I show her the three bedrooms, the master bath and guest bathroom, and the garage, ending up at the closet where I keep all my supplies.

“Everything you need is in here. Paint brushes, rollers, buckets, thinner, everything except the actual paint. I keep all of that in the garage. Since I’m finishing up the kitchen, you can start on the guest bathroom I guess. I’ve already taped the molding and the baseboards so you should be able to jump right in.”

“Sounds easy enough.” She bends over and grabs a paint roller and brush, throwing them in a bucket while the crease of her asscheek captures my attention the entire time. Seriously, as much as I enjoy the view, the shorts have got to go. Standing up straight, she grabs the handle to the bucket and carries it to the bathroom.

“I’ll get the paint for you!” I yell after her as I make my way to the garage, suddenly needing a breath of fresh air…or a cold shower.

“Okay! Thank you!” she responds.

Opening the door, I click on the light and search for the right bucket containing the light yellow paint needed for the bathroom. Once I find it, I deliberately take a few more seconds to try to mentally erase Tatum’s backside from my brain and then head back into the duplex, poking my head into the bathroom where she’s standing, looking at the walls surrounding her.

“Here you go. Let me know if you need anything.” I set the gallon of paint on the floor. Turning to leave, I notice the window is closed. With it being such a small space, there really needs to be better ventilation in here when she starts painting, so without thinking, I head to the window, stepping into the very small space between her and the bathtub, and place my hand on her lower back to let her know I’m there, making sure she doesn’t run into me.

“AH!” she screams and steps into me anyway.

The backs of my knees hit the porcelain of the tub, and I wrap my arm tightly around her waist as we both fall backwards. My head crashes against the wall around the same time that her ass lands on my dick. I almost lose consciousness from the pain.

Score one for Tatum.

“Oh my God! Noah! Are you okay?” She twists her body in my lap, exponentially increasing the agony in my nether regions. But once we’re face-to-face, my eyes find hers and the pain is forgotten. Well, it’s reduced to a dull ache anyway.

She immediately rises up,
thank God
, and places her hands on the back of my head, forcing it forward until I’m eye-level with her cleavage. As she feels around for cranial damage, discomfort takes over once again as my
other
brain begins to find this situation extremely exciting. Shifting uncomfortably, I wince as she releases my head, satisfied that it isn’t cracked open and bleeding everywhere. As she begins to make her descent, I slide backwards until I’m flush against the side of the tub so that she has no choice but to sit on the bottom of it instead of my lap. Placing her hand on my cheek, she scans my face still looking for signs of injury.

My eyes fall, and for the first time today, I notice the healing gashes all over her arms from her tantrum Friday night. I let my eyes drift down to her legs where there are so many more. As I take them all in, I’m flooded with visions of the sorrow that I’ve seen claim her beautiful eyes so often — the grief that she keeps hidden so well from others. My chest aches for her.

Lost in thought, I lift my hand from the cool porcelain and gently run my fingers over one of the deeper cuts on her thigh. As soon as I make contact with her warm skin, she stills. I watch her chest as her breathing picks up and then my eyes slowly travel to her neck where her pronounced pulse is beating rapidly. After a couple of seconds, I glance up at her lips, her pouty mouth open as she continues her quick, shallow breathing.

God, she’s got a gorgeous mouth.

She clears her throat, and I break my stare, once again looking into her blue eyes that are now almost completely hidden by the bill of her baseball cap. “I think you’ll be okay, Noah, I didn’t see any blood. You’ll probably have a headache though. I have some aspirin in my purse — I’ll just go get it.”

Before I can process any of what just happened, she bolts up and out of the bathroom, leaving me in an oddly excited yet extremely pained state. I gently press my throbbing head, the one on my shoulders, against the tile behind me and close my eyes while taking a deep breath in through my nose.

Keep my distance? Yeah, right.

Well, now we’re even.

Score two for Tatum.

Wiping the sweat from my brow with my forearm, I grab my cell from the bathroom counter and look at the time. Twelve o’clock. I’ve only been here for an hour?

Stepping back, I look at my recently completed wall and privately note that it actually looks really good. I smile with self-satisfaction. Turning around, my eyes catch sight of the bathtub as I place my phone back on the counter.

I feel like such an idiot. All Noah did was put his hand on my back, yet I screamed bloody murder and practically gave him a concussion in the process. But, it couldn’t be helped. I’m just really awkward and jumpy when people touch me. In fact, the only ones I really let get close enough are Sadie and Cash. Although with Cash, I usually prefer he doesn’t.

But the second touch from Noah was something entirely different. I didn’t jump or flinch. No, I stayed. I wanted more. That one touch warmed my entire body, inside and out, in a way that I’ve never experienced. In a way that scares me more than I ever imagined possible.

And his eyes. As much as I try to erase the image of his muddy brown eyes slowly traveling up my body, I can’t. It’s burned into my brain. For a brief second, they were no longer hardened with the intensity of frustration or anger. Instead, they displayed an openness and vulnerability that I’ve never seen before. They were beautiful. The moment was beautiful.

But, it’s not something I want to experience ever again. Especially, with him. Something about him makes me nervous, and not in a good way. In a way that tells me I need to stay far, far away because the feeling I experienced just in that one moment with him, well — it’s one that will only end in pain and devastation. I’ve had enough of that in this lifetime.

So, I got the
hell
out of there.

Taking an unnecessary five minutes to “find” the aspirin, I forced myself to take several deep breaths to clear my mind before heading back to the bathroom. Then, after practically throwing them to Noah from clear across the room, I watched from a safe distance as he finally managed to pull himself out of the bath tub, donning an extremely uncomfortable grimace on his face the entire time. While I did feel bad for him, I kind of think he was being a baby about it. I checked his head and it was fine.

Out of the tub and officially avoiding any form of eye contact with me, he simply walked over to the window, opened it, and then made a bee-line towards the door. Much to my relief, I haven’t seen him since. Hearing his boots echoing in the hallway though, I have a feeling my period of reprieve from him will be over shortly.

Soon after, Noah pokes his head inside the doorway. “Time for lunch, even though you just got here.” He gifts me a dimple as he smiles. I’m momentarily taken aback by the gesture. A smile on Noah Reese occurs about as often as a solar eclipse and it’s just as breathtaking.

I fight the need to sigh while I regroup my thoughts. Damn, I didn’t even think about lunch. It’s not as if I had anything to bring anyway, Mother’s house has been vacant for a while now, so I’m pretty sure if there’s any food in it, it would be inedible.