LITMIR.BIZ

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he happen to mention how much he thinks it’ll cost?”

      Nick named a figure that, while still high enough to make her checkbook whimper, was two hundred dollars less than the quote the plumber had given her over the phone this morning. She stuck the meat loaf into the preheated oven, rinsed two small potatoes and picked up her coarse vegetable brush.

      It was only one more time, a few more hours of having Nick in here, around her son. And he wouldn’t really even have to be around them. She could leave Nick and his friend to do their job while she and Austin steered clear. Surely they could get through it unscathed.

      “On second thought,” she said, scrubbing the potato so hard she almost took the skin right off, “I’d be…grateful for your help.”

      “No problem. We’ll swing by tomorrow after work. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so to finish the job. Six o’clock work for you?”

      “Sounds good.” Could he stop staring at her now? She’d given in. What more did he want? Pleasant conversation? That was just way beyond her acting capabilities at the moment. Besides, she needed to get back to Austin, to reassure herself he really was okay.

      She set the potatoes aside and, inwardly cringing at her own rudeness, said, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

      As a nudge, it was less than subtle, but at least it worked. Humor lit his dark eyes. “Right. I can find my own way out.”

      “Oh, no, let me just—”

      But he picked up his toolbox and left, with Faith racing after him. She stopped in the doorway to find Nick crouching next to the couch, talking to Austin.

      “I was apologizing,” Nick said to her, even though he didn’t look her way, just watched her son while Austin kept his gaze glued to his comic book.

      Her stomach dropped. “Apologizing for what?”

      “I’m not exactly sure.” Nick drummed his fingers against his knee. “But I think it had something to do with my asking if Austin was interested in playing baseball.”

      “I’m not,” he muttered.

      “Yeah.” Nick nodded. “I got that. Anyway,” he told Austin, “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to pressure you—”

      “I didn’t,” the boy said, still not so much as glancing Nick’s way.

      “Does that mean we’re okay?”

      Austin lifted a shoulder. Faith opened her mouth to scold him but caught the quick head shake Nick gave her. “Great.” Nick stood and grabbed his toolbox once again. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      He held out his fist. For a moment, Faith had no idea what he was doing until Austin, still staring at the comic, bumped his own fist against the man’s much larger one. Nick grinned, gave her a wink and walked out the door.

      Faith watched him leave.

      Then she crossed the room and locked the door behind him.

      “HOW COME I GOT this end?” Nick asked the next evening, struggling down Faith’s steps backward while he and Ethan Crosby hauled a new water heater to the basement.

      “Quit bitching. I had the low end when we moved that Ping-Pong table, remember? And that thing weighs at least fifty pounds more than this.” Ethan shifted his side of the heater a few inches higher. “I have two kids to send to college—”

      “They’re both still in diapers.”

      “—and I can’t risk having my neck broken because you can’t hold up your end.”

      “Get over it,” Nick said, referring to Christmas Eve two years ago when Ethan had helped him move an assembled Ping-Pong table into Kathleen’s basement. “You only needed four stitches.”

      Nick took a careful step backward, his arms stretched wide to hold on to the bulky, heavy box. He glanced over his shoulder.

      Three more steps and they made it to the bottom without any casualties. Most importantly, they made it without dropping the damn thing. After carrying it to the far end of the basement, they set it upright and took a moment to catch their breath.

      Faith came down carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses and a small plate of chocolate chip cookies. She faltered when she spotted them, but it was so brief, Nick doubted Ethan even noticed.

      “I’ll just leave this here,” she said, setting the tray down on top of the short stack of storage totes. She wore baggy jeans and an oversize black T-shirt. He wondered if she even owned a pair of shorts. And what her figure looked like under all those shapeless clothes she insisted on wearing. “Uh…if you need anything, I’ll be outside.”

      Ethan smiled. “Thanks.”

      She returned his smile with a nervous one of her own and went back upstairs, her thick ponytail swinging in time with her movements. Ethan picked up a cookie and took a bite.

      “How about you eat when we’re done?” Nick asked, grabbing a plastic bucket. “I’d like to get home in time to watch the ball game.”

      “Game doesn’t start for two hours.” Ethan helped himself to another cookie, then wiped his hand on the side of his khaki work pants. “And you’re not usually in a hurry to get away from a pretty woman. Usually they can’t wait to get away from you.”

      Nick set the bucket underneath the spigot and turned it on to drain the remaining water from the heater. “The only reason I’m doing this is because Brit nagged me into it.”

      “Bullshit,” Ethan said cheerfully. “You’re interested in Ms. Lewis. What’s the matter? She have enough sense not to be interested back?”

      “I wonder,” Nick said thoughtfully, tapping a wrench against his palm, “what Lauren would say if she discovered what really happened the night of your bachelor party.”

      Ethan’s smirk faded. “That’s cold, man. She can’t ever find out about that.”

      Nick feigned a puzzled expression. “No? Huh.”

      “I was drunk.”

      “I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep my mouth shut about her dog’s Mohawk—and who really held the clippers—and you can keep your mouth shut about me and Faith Lewis.”

      Eating another cookie, Ethan shrugged belligerently, which Nick took as a yes. Nick slapped his friend’s shoulder. “It’s a sad state of affairs when a man is afraid of his one-hundred-and-ten-pound wife.”

      Ethan snorted. “About as sad as a man putting in a new water heater for a woman who’s clearly not interested.”

      Damn. No wonder his mother always warned him not to gloat.

      Once the water stopped draining, Nick took the bucket upstairs. Opening the kitchen door that led out into Faith’s tiny backyard, he was met by the loud rumble of a lawn mower shaking the hell out of Austin as he cut the grass. Squinting against the sunlight, Nick crossed over to the side of Faith’s one-stall garage, where she knelt weeding a flower bed.

      Like the inside of her house, the small garden was a riot of colors. White, yellows, pinks and blues filled the base, but the centerpiece was a bright purple clematis winding its way up the sides and around the rungs of an old wooden ladder leaning against the wall.

      She stood and met him by the edge of the garage. “Everything going all right?” she asked over the sound of the mower.

      “Fine.” He set the bucket at her feet. “We had to drain the heater and I thought you could use this to water your flowers.”

      She wore dark sunglasses, so he couldn’t see her expression. “That’s very…environmentally sound of you.”

      “I’m all about reducing, reusing and recycling,” he said soberly.

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