Cold River - Carla Neggers [49]
Bowie’s expression was unreadable, controlled. Sean said nothing, just watched, impassive, as Bowie dipped behind the trunk and had a look at the water damage.
Hannah leaned over the trunk. “Do you need more light?”
“Nope.” He stood up. “It’s not an active leak right now because of the outside temperatures, but water’s obviously getting in. My guess, the wall here’s rotted. I’ll have to get a closer look.”
“Can you fix it?” she asked.
“Yes, I can. I’ll have to figure out exactly where and how the water’s getting in, but I think I can just repoint the stone, do some resealing. A little mortar and hydraulic cement should do the trick.”
Sean was cool. “I’ll want an estimate—”
“I estimate I can fix it.”
Hannah checked her irritation with both of them and focused on the task at hand. “It has to be done. When do you think you could get to it?”
“A week or two. It’ll keep until then. If it doesn’t, call me.”
She nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Take care of yourself,” he said, and left, the old stairs creaking and groaning as he headed up.
Hannah didn’t move, didn’t look at Sean. She listened for the center-hall door to open and shut and then crossed her arms on her chest, careful with her injured wrist. She felt tight, emotional, on the verge of spinning out of control. “I need to check on Toby,” she said half to herself.
“Hannah,” Sean said. “What’s going on?”
She shot him a look. “Other than my brothers taking off for California? Other than hiking up to see where one of them was nearly murdered? Where a man we all loved…” She pushed back the rush of emotion. “I’m sorry. You have enough on your mind. You lost your father to those people. I’ll be fine.”
He stepped closer to her. “That’s your refrain, isn’t it? You’ll always be fine.” He moved another few strands of her hair from off her face and smiled at her. “There’s something sexy about a woman with cobwebs in her hair and dust on her nose.”
“Are you the big charmer in Beverly Hills?”
“I’m an amateur out there.” With his fingertip, he touched her cheek, just under where the rock had struck her. “You don’t want dust getting into an open cut.”
“It hardly counts as a cut. It’s mostly just a bruise.”
His fingertip drifted down to her mouth, brushed her lower lip. “No one wants to see you hurt and alone.” His smile had vanished. “I don’t.”
“My brothers shouldn’t have to worry about me. Neither should you.”
“Is it okay for anyone to worry about you?”
“Sean…” Hannah cleared her throat, feeling more than a little hot now. “It’s been a long day. I’m not sure I trust myself with you.”
His eyes sparked. “Does that mean you want me to kiss you or you don’t want me to kiss you?” Before she could respond, he stood up straight and winked at her. “I won’t make you answer.”
She pushed the trunk with one foot, feeling ragged, wishing she had gone upstairs to her apartment and not answered the door for Jo and Elijah after all, just locked herself in her bedroom and studied for her bar exam.
She did want Sean to kiss her. She wanted to kiss him. She’d wanted it since she was fourteen years old, and it had been crazy then and was crazy now. They’d both know it come morning. This was adrenaline and circumstances at work.
She’d been impulsive enough for one day.
“I need to see Devin and Toby. I’m having dinner with the Robinsons tonight. I probably should cancel.” With her uninjured hand, she caught Sean’s fingers into hers and gave him a quick smile. “Long day.”
She ran for the stairs. Sean didn’t stop her, and, despite her hike up and down Cameron Mountain and the incident at Four Corners, she didn’t break her stride on the two flights of stairs to her apartment.
By the time she reached her apartment, all the hounds of hell might as well have been after her. Her head was pounding and she was breathing hard, her heart racing, her stomach churning.
Having Bowie there—the competition and open animosity between him and Sean—must have prompted Sean to touch her that way. Talk to her that way. Look at her that way.
She caught her breath and raked her