Amber Laura's Blog, page 5

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Thirty-Three (THE END)

Cat blinked at the words. What? Wait, what? “Excuse me?” Cat muttered, cocking her head a little to one side, biding a little time as she processed those unexpected words.

Matt smiled, but Cat was glad to see one hand inch up to the side of his neck, the fingers worrying the skin there a bit sheepishly. “I was wondering if I could have it back.”

“Back? That implies you had it once.” At the words, Cat felt her stomach tighten. It was a mean thing to say, yet she didn’t regret saying it. Still, she was being a bit unreasonable. Unkind. This was what she’d wanted all along. Matt was here. Here! He’d come to her, sought her out—and God, her eyes skipped over his features, she wanted to reach out and touch him. She wanted to be closer to him.

The smell of lingering woodchips and cedar filled the small office. Her nose twitched delightfully.

Then again, she wasn’t interested in being baited. She hadn’t realized how easily he could hurt her, how much his absence could affect her. Which meant, his presence was dangerous. Something to be careful around.

Though if Cat had expected a strong reaction to her biting response, she was disappointed. Matt smiled in acknowledgment. “Fair enough” Holding it up, he raised one eyebrow. “What do you say—can I take belated ownership?”

Cat licked her lips. “What do you want with it?”

There was a beat of silence as Matt considered her words. Bending his head forward, the shadow of his hat covered more of his face, making it even less readable. Then he exhaled. “You know, it’s kind of hard to answer.”

Cat waited. It was a maneuver she’d learned from him.

“I’d rather show you if you don’t mind.”

Cat’s stomach pitched. Dangerous. “I’m working.”

Matt glanced up at the wall clock. It was five minutes after five. “The credit union is closed.”

Feeling the nails of her fingers biting into her flesh, Cat loosened her hold. She wasn’t sure why she was fighting this, but…maybe because it all seemed too easy for him. He wasn’t looking at her as though he was dying to contain his feelings, he wasn’t humiliated or nervous, or any of the emotions that she’d been racked with pretty much since she’d met him. It was all too easy. Maybe because it didn’t mean quite as much. She sighed. “Fine. But I’ll need a few minutes first,” she said with a pointed look at her computer. “It may be past working hours, but I do have some stuff to finish up here.” That was more or less a lie, but it didn’t matter. It was the only power move she had left.

Gaining his feet, Matt nodded. “Yeah, sure. Meet you at my shop in twenty minutes then?”

“’Kay.”

“The back of the shop,” he specified.

Cat eye’s cut to his. “Fine.”

Holding the binder in his hands, he tested its weight, before looking back at her. “What, ah, if you don’t mind my asking, why did you keep this?”

Cat didn’t take her eyes off the computer screen, but that didn’t mean she was reading any of the words glaring fuzzily back at her. “Because, as it, uh, happens, you were also a little right.”

“Come again?” There was no attempt to hide the amusement in those loaded words.

With an exaggerated move, Cat lifted her eyes. “I was focusing on you because something was missing in my life. But you were wrong about why. It wasn’t because I was running away from something, rather I was running to it.” She pulled her shoulders back defensively. “I just didn’t know it then.”

Matt nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Cat shrugged. “Though, I was perhaps a bit premature in showing that,” she waved toward the black binder. Her eyes lowered demurely. “And I truly am sorry about that.”

She heard his heavy sigh. “I know, Cat. I know.”

“But, well, what I did—the researching and the forms and applications, and all of the background work…I liked doing it.” One finger played absently with the mouse beside her desktop computer.

“I really liked doing it. Working on website designs and trademark logo ideas, and marketing plans,” she lifted her hands. “And it’s good. The work in there, I did good work.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Helping you, it was really like helping me. I—you know, I like what I do here at the credit union,” she said, her words coming out quickly. “But it’s not my passion. And I guess, harping at you about that very subject made me realize…”

“So you decided to start your own business?”

“In a manner of speaking. I’m in the process…”

She still hadn’t managed to chance a look at his face, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke next. “Doing what?”

Cat looked down at her desk. Her fingers were chipping at the edge. “Business consulting.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t laugh,” Cat muttered darkly. She could feel the stiffness of her features, the uncomfortable weight of vulnerability as it cloaked her person.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I mean, I’m not looking to up and quit my job here or anything,” Cat continued, “at least, not yet. I, uh, you know, I’m starting small and, and, I’m just going to see how things go.”

“I believe in you.”

At the words, Cat’s eyes couldn’t help but travel up to his face. A small, helpless smile crawled across her lips. “Generous of you, considering that you all but threw that binder back in my face a week ago.”

“I’m not a quick study,” Matt admitted. He held up the book. “But I’m here now. I hope that counts for something.”

 

 

 

Fifteen minutes later, pulling into the back of the hardware store, Cat took a deep breath. And then another. Alighting from her vehicle, she shut the door on a forceful of determination. Not to get her hopes up. Not to expect too much.

So he took back the binder.

So what?

On the words, Cat felt her feet traverse over the long, rutted driveway leading to the loading docks.

Only, don’t be too cold.

Or rude.

What if he wants—

And on and on, and back and forth her thoughts flurried—had, in fact, flurried thusly since he’d first stepped foot inside her office. She’d gathered her pride around her when the only thing she’d wanted to do was find her way back into his arms.

It was a tough balancing act. She only prayed she was walking the line straight.

Coming up to the side door, she gave it a perfunctory knock before stepping inside. “Matt?” She called.

“Over here.”

Following the sound of his voice, Cat took herself toward his makeshift workstation—the dim lighting didn’t slow her pace. She knew the building well, by now. Only, halfway there, she stopped, her feet stumbling as her eyes took in the sight waiting for her. Matt was leaning up against the table saw, his eyes searching on her face as she paused.

“Wait? What is all this?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper as she took in the unpolished, untreated rocking chair sitting just a little off to his right, and then the narrow cupboard with four intricately carved doors and little white-and-black glass knobs, to the narrow bookcase with the curlicue top. Her eyes flickered, shifting. Hesitating, she stepped forward, her hand reaching out to touch the raw wood on display. Cradled on top of it was a collection of picture frames and a large mirror in a rough-hewn frame. Just behind this, Cat could see piles of construction tools scatted around piles of neatly stacked new lumber, waiting…

Lifting her eyes, Cat stared at Matt questioningly.

“It’s a start.”

“A start.”

In answer, Matt reached for the binder sitting beside the saw. “If you’ll take me on, I’d like to be your first client.”

“My what?”

Smiling, Matt moved around the table saw, his feet guiding him meticulously closer. Reaching forward, he grabbed her hands in both of his. “Client. To a small, very small, side business.”

“You mean—”

“Wait,” Matt said, shaking his head. “Let me finish. I’m not closing down the hardware store.”

Cat nodded.

“Despite what you and my grandmother think,” he said pointedly, “because I know she had a part to play in all of this, I love this store. Yeah, my grandfather built it, but I love it, too.”

Smiling falteringly, unbelievably, Cat blinked back sudden tears. “Okay.”

“But you were right—I was hiding this away because I wasn’t sure I could juggle both of them because I wasn’t sure I had the talent to actually make something of it.”

“You do.”

“Thank you,” Matt replied, his eyes drifting momentarily to the collection stacked beside them. “So I figured I’d start small—build a couple of pieces and set them out in the store for sale and see how they do.”

“And custom work?”

“If and when I get requests, I’ll schedule them as my calendar allows.”

“Okay.”

Matt’s hands tightened on hers. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

Cat sucked her lips inside her mouth. “I mean, I’m so surprised.” Tugging her hands out of his, she gestured. “When did you have time to do this?”

“Last week.”

“After I stormed out?”

He half-shrugged. “Some of it.”

Cat’s eyes narrowed. “Some of it?”

“Yeah, well, if you’d let me get a word in edgewise I was going to tell you that last Friday when you came barreling about Amelia’s wardrobe.”

“I see.”

“I was ready to get it a try. Until I’d met you, I’d almost allowed myself to forget how much I love working with my hands.”

Smiling slyly, Cat nodded.

“And you said something—about how I could sell pieces in my shop, and I thought, well, what’s the worst that could happen? I don’t sell a few items? My ego is bruised?”

“So why, why’d you wait to tell me?” Anger bit briefly against her consciousness. She’d spent a miserable week without him.

“Because this is the way I always wanted to do it—to show you my idea. To see your reaction.” Matt shrugged. “Plus, you were pretty irritated when you left that day. And I guess, I got a little irritated myself. So I thought I’d give you some time, which you kind of demanded anyway.”

Cat laughed. “Like that would have ever stopped you.”

“I can be stubborn sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“And you,” Matt continued, “You can be a bit…dramatic at times.”

Cat scoffed.

“But at least you try. You’re always trying.”

Cat felt her mouth pulling upward. It was hard to deny the pleasure in that compliment. “Sometimes to no avail,” she said graciously.

Matt grinned. “Sometimes. But at least you do something. You get an answer.”

“You may be giving me far too much credit,” Cat said. “Before I met you I was entirely bored with my life.”

“Did you know that? That you were bored?”

“Yes.” Her lips twisted. “Well, not at first.”

“And what did you do when you figured that out?”

Cat smiled slowly. “I broke my kitchen door.”

“Yeah, that’s about what I figured.” Letting his gaze settle over her features, Matt shrugged. “So, how ‘bout it? Will you take me on as your first client?”

Cat chewed on her lip. “Actually, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

Matt’s eyes cloudy over at the words. He still held a smile, but some of the energy melted off his lips at the words. “Oh. Uh, okay.”

“I have a code of professional ethics,” Cat hurried to say, her voice dropping to a huskier tone. Taking a step toward him, she wiggled her eyebrows for effect.

“Ah, I see.”

“It’s very explicit about romantic relationships with clients,” she warned him, coming to stand toe-to-toe with him then.

“Yeah,” Matt muttered, his hands coming down to cradle her hips. “I could see that that might be a problem.”

Feeling him pulling her in closer to his body, Cat pursed her lips as she raised herself up on her tiptoes. Her arms brushed up his shoulders. “But—I suppose if it were pro bono…?”

“Yeah?” Matt’s lips were pulling at hers, his teeth just barely biting down against her bottom one.

“I think we might be able to work something out,” she whispered just as his mouth took full possession of hers.

The post Life Reconstructed: Chapter Thirty-Three (THE END) appeared first on LitLiber.

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Thirty-Three

Crying in her car helped a little, though it made for a foggy view. Pulling up outside her apartment some minutes later, Cat reached for her phone. Picking it up, she told herself that she wasn’t upset to see that Matt hadn’t tried to reach her. Not even a text message. Then she told herself that again. Pulling up Amelia’s contact, she dialed.

“Hey girl!”

“Hey, are you free?”

“Are you alright? You sound…stuffy.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Cat assured her, the sleeve of one hand wiping away the last traces of tears. Looking out of her windshield, she said. “I actually wanted to talk to you…”

“Thinking about getting some new professional headshots?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Oh.” And then: “Really? That’s, that’s awesome!” There was the sound of papers rustling in the background. “Let me see—I’m guessing you’ll want to take them at your office.”

“The credit union? No. Definitely not.”

“No?”

“Conflict of interest.”

“Conflict of… what? What are you talking about?”

“…Plus, I always thought that space was so…beige. Plastic plants and bland prints on the walls.” Cat shook her head. “No, no, I want something more aesthetic than that, something that’ll showcase my personality more. God, that is, I hope I’m not beige. Thoughts?”

“Cat what the hell are you talking about?”

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dinner?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, sure.”

“Meet me at Cranky’s in ten minutes?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yup.”

“Is this about Matt?”

“Nope.”

If Amelia heard the warning in those abrupt words, she heeded them wisely. With a quick nod, she said: “Ten minutes sounds good.”

Hanging up, Cat didn’t even bother to get out of her vehicle. Turning around, she took herself back into town, her eyes carefully staring straight ahead as she passed the hardware store, nor did she look back when she parked in the rinky parking lot catty-corner.

Walking into Cranky’s, Cat quickly nabbed a seat at a high-top table. When Amelia appeared at the front door five minutes later, she quickly flagged her over. Plunking down in her own seat, Amelia’s smile of greeting faltered when she saw the black binder, sitting beside one of Cat’s elbows.

Her eyes narrowed as they meet the gleam of excitement in her friend’s gaze. “Cat…” There was a loaded warning in that tone. “Come on.”

“No.” Laying her hand protectively over the cover, Cat shook her head. “No, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

Amelia pursed her lips. “Good, because what I’m thinking right now doesn’t look good for you.”

“It’s not about Matt.”

Amelia nodded slowly. “Proceed.”

Cat’s lips pulled apart in a tremulous smile. “You started your own business.”

“Yes.” Amelia cocked her head a little to one side. “As you well know.”

“So, well…” with a bush of her hand, Cat pushed the binder across the table toward Amelia. “I was hoping, you’d take a look at this. It’s just a mock-up example—”

“Something I well know,” Amelia couldn’t help reminding her.

“And just, you know, tell me if there’s anything I’m missing. And then.” Cat bite her lip. “And then I was hoping you’d run through exactly how you filled out the forms. I’ve been looking into it pretty extensively the past couple of weeks, but it’d be great to have a live example.”

“Whoa!” Holding up a hand to cut off the torrent of words pouring out of Cat’s mouth, Amelia blinked. “Want to fill me in here?”

Cat shrugged. “Well…”

“Is this for you?”

“Uh…”

“Oh my God, Cat!”

“Look, I’m not—I’m not sure yet. I’m just, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. To get a handle on things. See, what I want to do is…”

And finally, Cat started to realize her own dreams.

 

 

 

She didn’t hear from Matt the rest of the week. Then again, she didn’t bother trying to reach out to him, either. Even if she’d wanted to (and she did!), Cat found her evenings full to bursting as she researched different filing forms, networking groups, and website design functions. Her evenings were quiet but productive, the only sound accompanying the sip of her coffee, the click-tap-tap of the keyboard under her fingertips, and the scratch-scratch of her pen against applications.

Still, she thought about him. Wondered what he was doing. Wondered if he was missing her. She thought up myriad reasons to call or text, or just run down to the hardware store. All seemingly innocent reasons, but at the last minute she’d scratch the thought. She was done being the only vulnerable one.

She felt silly. Missing him so much. For all intents and purposes, she’d only just met the man. She’d only just recently become aware of the timbre of his voice, the cedar smell that seemed to cling to his skin, the taste of his lips—his breath.

But she did miss him. His dry sense of humor, the tingle of his fingers against her skin, the way he’d poke fun of her until she found herself laughing along with him. She wanted to reach out to him, but she wasn’t sure if he’d even care. He hadn’t seemed to when she’d walked out of his warehouse. Certainly, he hadn’t come up with myriad reasons to reach out to her. She wanted him to make the first move, to answer her insecurities with his own.

Because she’d always been the one trying—she’d always been the one seeking him out, requiring his help, popping in and out of his store. This time, this time she wanted to be chased.

“Anyway, he was right,” she murmured up at her ceiling one night. “It’s time that I focus my attention on me.”

Of course, that was easier said than done, and by the following Friday, she’d lost a couple of pounds and more than a few hours of sleep. Sitting behind her desk at the credit union, she waited. Waited for the clock to reach closing time—though none of that showed on her face; she met her scheduled clients with a professional demeanor and her full concentration. Still, it drained her. By four o’clock, she felt like a limp ragdoll as she punched in some data reports.

The last thing she wanted was another knock on the door, another meeting, another round of conversation across her desk. But it was exactly what she got.

“Cat?” Poking her head around the door, Marge, one of the front tellers, smiled tentatively. “Got a spare minute?”

Cat swallowed back her instinctive reply. “Uh, sure, what’s—” but before she could finish her sentence, Marge’s head disappeared, only to reemerge sections later, followed closely behind the tall length of Matthew McBoy.

Cat’s mouth dropped open just the tiniest bit.

“Here you go, sir,” Marge said, motioning him inside. With a quick smile at Cat, she retreated back into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

A beat of silence spread across the office. By now Cat had carefully pressed her lips back together. But her hands, clenched against the side of her desk, gave her nerves away.

“Matt? What, what are you doing here?” She felt her eyes grow larger in her head when, in response, he casually pulled out on the chairs across her desk and took a seat.

“Well,” he said, crossing one ankle over his thigh. “You came barging into my place of work, I figured it was only fair that I returned the favor.”

The words would have been threatening had it not been for the gentleness amusement in his voice. Cat felt her hands pressing more sharply against the faux-wood of her desk. She nodded. “Okay.”

Another beat of silence passed. His habitual baseball cap was slung especially low over his forehead, shadowing his eyes. Still, Cat waited. This was her territory. She felt comfortable here. Being a loan officer, she was used to silences. Awkward, tough silences. She could play this game all day…

“You were right.”

Cat leaned forward when the words, softly said, suddenly floated into the room. “I was?”

Matt smiled, his gaze flicking up to catch hers. “Going to make this hard on me?”

“Not deliberately.” Cat licked her lips. It was just the surprise of seeing him, especially after radio silence. She’d thought for sure…well, no matter about that now. Fighting to keep a smile off her face, she waited.

“I was still mad. Or maybe not, I don’t know,” Matt confessed, his eyes lowering to her desk. “But I, I didn’t want to fight that look that enters your eyes everything time woodworking gets mentioned. So I, well, wait—”

“What?”

“Is that the binder?” Reaching forward, Matt’s fingers slid toward the damned thing.

“God,” Cat grumbled, “I should really switch it over to a blue folder or something. Just to make everyone shut up.”

“Huh?”

Blushing at the hot tone of her voice, Cat shrugged. “Yes. Yeah, it’s the binder. But I promise—” holding up both hands, she stared Matt down. “I promise, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

He was still leaning forward, his fingers splayed across the front of it. “What am I thinking?”

“That I should have destroyed it already. I promised to do that but I didn’t. And you’re thinking that I’m, you know…”

“Just waiting to attack me with it again?”

“Something like that,” Cat mumbled at the humor in his voice. Taken aback, she wasn’t sure how to respond. “But I’m not. I learned my lesson.”

Nabbing the binder up, Matt settled back with it on his lap. “Then why do you still have it.”

“It’s for me, actually.”

“You?” Glancing up at her, his eyes twinkled. “Thinking of getting into woodworking? Am I going to have some competition?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” she cried. “Besides, how could I possibly compete with someone who doesn’t do woodworking?”

Matt pursed his lips, but instead of answering he opened the book. Flipping absently through the book, he said: “I was actually hoping you still had it.”

“Why?”

“So I could maybe have it back.”

 

The post Life Reconstructed: Chapter Thirty-Three appeared first on LitLiber.

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Thirty-Two

Cat stayed late at work the following evening. Much though she hated to admit it, she couldn’t quite manage to get Mary’s words out of her head. Or Matt’s for that matter. In their own way, each had told her the same thing. She was so focused on other people that she didn’t seem to be seeing herself.

Cat frowned, staring down at her computer absently. The problem was, she wasn’t sure exactly what she was supposed to do about that. Fact was, she didn’t actually feel like she was running away from her problems. Just the opposite. For the first time in years, she felt excitement, anticipation, and familiarity with the life she was living—with the people she was getting to know.

With the projects she’d started or helped along. Those had led her to…well, to everything. That’s how she met Matt and Alex. Those projects cultivated the bond she now shared with Amelia. In an indirect way, they’re even how she got on a Canasta team.

At the thought, her eyelids jerked. Sitting guiltily on the left side of her desk was the black binder, the one she’d sworn she’d destroy today. The one that should have been empty, all contents sitting on the wrong side of the shredder. But there it remained, perfectly intact.

Staring at it now, she felt her fingers seize over keyboard. It wasn’t stubbornness that kept her from tossing it in the garbage heap. It was…something different, harder to describe. And weirdly enough, it had nothing to do with Matt. Gaze narrowing, Cat felt her teeth scrape up against her bottom lip as a new thought occurred to her.

Then again, maybe Matt and Mary had been right all along. There was one thing that hadn’t changed in her life. One thing that remained fine. Good. Okay. There was one thing that her projects hadn’t affected. Though, in their own way, they’d been the catalyst to this moment.

Her eyes bounced from the contents of the binder to the computer screen in front of her. Her fingers inched over to her mouse. Opening up her internet browser, she typed in her question.

Cat didn’t call Matt that evening as she left for work. Turning her phone to silent, she lifted her chin to a daring angle. She wasn’t interested in having her enthusiasm dashed by him again. This time, this time she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of validation.

She didn’t need his approval.

Climbing inside her vehicle, she determinedly ignored the small voice in the back of her head, whispering the unnecessary observation that there was now yet one more thing she couldn’t talk to Matt about.

Frowning, she cranked over the ignition. Backing out of her parking spot, she spent the remainder of her drive assuring herself that there were a lot of things that she and Matt could still talk about. That she was overthinking things. Overreacting.

It was oddly comforting to hear the lies—even as she knew them for what they were.

 

 

 

Wednesday only seemed to prove those thoughts true. Waiting nervously, her hands pushed deeply into her front pockets, Cat watched the superintendent of her building check out the newly painted kitchen. He’d called Tuesday evening and inquired over the project. After she’d assured him that everything was done had his true intentions been known. He needed to stop by to do some inspections for a unit that had recently been vacated—he figured it wouldn’t hurt to check out the kitchen at the same time.

Cat hadn’t been fooled by his words. Translation: he wanted to make sure that when she inevitably moved out, he wasn’t going to be stuck with an apartment colored an unrented shade of paint.

Holding her breath when he entered the room, Cat waited for him to notice the door. Her eyes twitched to keep from looking directly at it. Instead, she leaned up against the table and kept up a steady flow of small-talk, anything to keep him just distracted enough… It turned out to be unnecessary. Whistling, he circled around, his double chins wobbling with the movement of his body as he took in the fresh space.

And then, suddenly, he was looking right at the newly constructed door. Cat held her breath. Then his eyes moved on to the next one. “It looks good, Ms. Cryer,” he said, using her last name because he probably couldn’t be bothered to remember her first. Cat didn’t mind.

Clapping her hands together, she smiled demurely, her eyes glancing down at the floor. “Thank you. I’m pretty happy with it, myself.”

“Good, good. Well, I won’t keep you any longer—that is, if there’s nothing you need from me?” But it was clear from the haunted look on his face he wasn’t interested in any forthcoming complaints.

“No, no,” she rushed to assure him. “I’m good. And, um, thank you for letting me, uh, make this place a little more my own.”

He grunted in response. That was literally as socially polite as the man could make himself out to be. Again, Cat didn’t mind.

When he left moments later, the heavy door shutting behind his bulk, Cat reached instinctively for her phone. Calling Matt, she waited impatiently for him to answer. This. This was something they could talk about. Grasping for the phone with almost frenetic movements, she waited for him to pick up.

“McBoy’s Hardware Store—”

“Matt,” Cat rushed to say. “Grant just left my apartment.”

“Who?”

She took a deep breath. “The landlord, er, the Super.”

“Oh.”

Cat frowned. “And he loved the kitchen.”

“Oh, good…” Cat told herself she imagined the slight indifference in his voice, in his very lack of words.

“It’s official,” she pressed on, her fingers gripping the phone almost violently. “He didn’t notice a thing.”

“Not even the new paint?”

“Well, of course he noticed that,” Cat told him slightly exasperated. “That’s why he came.”

“Hmm.”

“But the door—Matt, he totally didn’t notice the door.”

“I thought that was the whole point?”

“Don’t tease me, Matt.”

The chuckle she heard on the other end of the phone warmed the insides of her stomach, and suddenly the block in her airways opened. Clutching her phone, Cat wished she could see his face.

“So how’d it feel? Taking your first real deep breath since it happened?”

“Amazing. So amazing, in fact, that I want to celebrate tonight.”

“Uh, tonight?”

Cat’s stomach tightened again. Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it. “Tonight’s not good?”

“Well…I’m just about finished with Amelia’s closet and I was hoping…”

“Oh!” Cat said, her voice taking on a pitchy quality. Here it was again, that thing that they didn’t speak about. Since last Friday, she had yet to set foot in Matt’s workshop again. In fact, she hadn’t even gone to the hardware store. It felt too saturated with negative energy. Matt knew how she felt about the hardware store, and she knew how he felt about her feelings on the matter.

“No problem,” she rushed to explain now, her voice shoveling the words out of her mouth. “Another night this week then.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Hanging up she told herself that she really was okay. It didn’t matter than Matt hadn’t invited her to come and hang out with him while he finished the project. It didn’t matter that there was this whole part of his life that she felt like she couldn’t talk about anymore.

And that it was slowly eeking out into other areas. At the thought, her eyes traveled down the piece of paper sitting on the kitchen table. The letterhead—with its telling government agency logo—was as undeniable as the sequence of the nine-digit numbers attached to the document.

Form SS-4

It was fine.

Mary was right. She was probably making it more than it was.

 

 

 

But as the days went by, Cat wasn’t so sure. Matt spent the night on Thursday. They sat on her couch after work and watched a light romantic comedy. He asked her about her day at the office but other than a brief anecdote about the world’s longest scarf that Janice spent her break working on, there wasn’t much to tell.

Which made her feel guilty. Terribly guilty.

She’d almost told him then. Her mouth had been open, the words trembling on the tip of her tongue—but then he’d leaned down on the couch, his mouth brushing against the hairs on the side of her neck, just above her ear. Shivery at the almost-contact, Cat had barely registered the words.

All thought of talk had gone out of her head. Shifting back against his shoulder, her mouth had tipped upward and it’d been all the invitation he’d needed.

The guilt had returned the following day. That is, until she’d received a call from Amelia.

“Oh my God,” Amelia had squealed over the phone during Cat’s lunchbreak. “It’s here and it’s…I’m so in love I’m considering moving in.”

“What?”

“The wardrobe. God, Cat I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“The wardrobe?” Cat’s voice was mechanical, tense.

“Matt just dropped it off and, oh Cat, you minx. It’s, it’s, even more than I hoped for!”

Cat swallowed down the growing pit enveloping her stomach, crawling up her throat. Matt had finished her wardrobe. And Amelia thought that Cat had known about it. And why shouldn’t she? Composing her voice, Cat said: “Oh yeah?” It was weak, but it was the best she could do.

“He customized the shelves so that—”

But Cat wasn’t listening anymore. Chewing half-heartedly on a hunk of lettuce, she let her fork drop absently into her salad bowl. He’d finished Amelia’s piece, and he hadn’t even bothered to tell her.

It was mortifying. It was telling.

“…seriously, I can’t believe it.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Cat heard her voice as though through a fog.

“Like is not the word.”

Cat felt tears prick at her eyes. Her appetite disappeared. With a shove, she pushed her lunch away. “Um, listen Amelia I actually have to go.”

“Oh, sure, yeah—”

“Yeah, I’m sorry but I’ve got a client coming in a few minutes.” Which was a lie. Her next appointment didn’t start for almost two hours, but she just couldn’t do to this anymore.

Her pride was suffocating.

“Oh, sure. Of course.”

Staring at the clock long minutes later, Cat felt the first stirrings of anger take over her emotions. Turns out, Mary had been wrong. She wasn’t making a mountain out of a molehill. She wasn’t finding an excuse to fuel the letdown on anticipation (whatever the hell that really meant, anyway). Matt was shutting her out of areas of his life. Big areas. Areas that a few weeks ago she’d held a pivotal role inside.

The rest of her workday was a waste: she hardly remembered her afternoon meeting with Mr. Roberts or her follow-up interview with Amanda Yates. Her attention was focused on entirely one thing. The signal of the end of her day.

It came a little later than usual, because she had a few personal calls to make after finalizing some of the paperwork for Amanda, but she reminded herself that was actually a good thing: she couldn’t leave too early. It simply wouldn’t do to have a meltdown in the middle of the very public hardware store. Ending her last phone call, Cat loaded up her belongings before getting into her car. As she headed across town, she considered what she’d say.

But it didn’t matter. Walking inside McBoy’s Hardware Store ten minutes later, her head was empty of all but one thought: that she needed to find Matt, and she needed to find him now. Immediately.

Smiling up from the cash register, as she’d known he would be, was Cal Harris, the teenager that Matt had cover the last three store hours on the weekdays.

“Matt still here?” She asked, her voice clipped. He usually stayed until at least five, doing bookwork in his office, just in case Cal needed him.

“Yup. In the back…” But Cat was already gone, her feet smacking smartly against the tiling on the floor as she headed toward the rear of the building. Entering the back warehouse, she didn’t even slow down to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. With each step, her temper pricked, rising higher and higher.

“Cal, is that you?”

“Nope.”

At the sound of her voice, Matt’s head jerked up. Just entering from the from stacks of storage boxes, Cat had the small victory of watching the shocked surprise cross his face. Getting up from behind his workbench, Matt met her halfway.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Look,” Holding her hand, Cat cleared her throat. “I get it. This part of your life is off-limits now, right?” Looking around, her gaze took in the entire warehouse, skipping over the pile of wood leaning against his table-saw, the smell of fresh-cut cedar permeating the air. “Probably, that’s my fault.”

Matt’s brows crinkled. “Cat…”

“But I mean, come on? You finished Amelia’s order and didn’t even think to tell me?” Cat straightened her shoulders. “Dammit, I was instrumental in this whole project but instead of hearing it from you, I had to sit and pretend not to be astonished when Amelia called to talk to me about it.”

“Wait a minute.”

“I kept thinking to myself, well, this will blow over and when it does—” Cat paused, shaking her head, her arms spreading wide. “How’s this going to work, Matt?”

“What?”

“I mean, we can’t even talk about this stuff anymore?” Her voice rose to an unnatural level. “I get it. I really do. This is just a hobby. But it’s still a big part of your life and now I’m just…cut off.”

“Cat.”

“And don’t you dare tell me I’m being dramatic. I’m not,” she insisted, stomping her foot. “I’ve felt the distance. You stopped talking to me, so I gave you your space, because I knew I screwed up with that whole staring a business idea, and I waited for you to…to let me back in. I bided my time and I told myself it didn’t matter. That it was fine. But it’s not. I don’t want there to be walls up.”

“Whoa. Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but—.”

“You had all of yesterday,” she reminded him.

Matt grinned. “Yeah, well, we got a little…distracted last night.”

“No, don’t make jokes.”

Matt let his head tilt a little to one side. She hated that particular look on his face, the one he wore when he thought she was being frivolous.

“Tell me you didn’t deliberately keep this from me?”

“You’re making it sound bigger than it is. It was a wardrobe, that’s all, not some secret identity.”

“Tell me,” Cat persisted, her arms clutching at her hips.

Matt sighed. Running a hand through his hair, he unconsciously dislodged some specks of sawdust.

“I said I was sorry about the business thing,” Cat reminded her, her lower lip trembling. “And you said it was over, done with.”

“It is.”

“Obviously not.”

Matt sighed again.

“There’s this whole part of your life that I can’t reach anymore.”

“You keep saying that, but you’re forgetting—as I think you’ve always forgotten—that it’s not all of who I am,” Matt said. “I’m more than just a guy who loves woodworking.”

“I know that.”

“Really? Then why aren’t you upset that I’ve never told you about the time I broke my wrist racing bicycles with my friends in the third grade? Or the fact that I’ve never told you I hate chocolate, or that I love professional hockey?”

Cat blustered. “That’s—that’s…”

“That’s also part of who I am,” Matt finished for her. “I hate bikes because of the memory of that fall. Won’t even get on one. And chocolate gives me migraines, which is why I won’t eat them. And—”

“Okay. Fine, you’ve made your point,” Cat considered, but her lips were in a thin, angry line across her flushed face. “But just because you haven’t told me about those things doesn’t mean you were hiding them from me.”

Matt opened his mouth and then closed it at her words.

“I won’t push you, Matt. I told you that. I apologized.”

“But you clearly haven’t actually let it go, yourself.”

Cat gaped at him. “Really?”

“It’s clearly still consuming your thoughts. You’re second-guessing everything I tell you and everything I don’t, but only as it concerns this goddamn subject.”

Cat sucked in a tough breath. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Dammit, Cat don’t be like this.”

Spinning on her heel, she only stopped long enough to lob over her shoulder. “And this time, don’t bother coming over after you’re done here.” Stomping back up the long hall, Cat could barely see the door by the time she reached it.

 

The post Life Reconstructed: Chapter Thirty-Two appeared first on LitLiber.

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Thirty-One

Try as she might, Cat couldn’t quite focus. Staring down at the deck of cards in her hand, she felt her lips pull down in wanting-concentration, her fingers grazing over their tips absently as she considered her next move. Reaching forward, she picked up at the stack.

“No!”

Jerking at the sound, Cat almost dropped the deck of cards in her hand. Startled, her eyes met Mary’s across the table. There was no disguising the immediate guilt, the recognition in Cat’s eyes that she didn’t understand…

With disgust, Mary dropped her cards down in her lap. Running her gnarled hands through her messy hair, she glared at her partner. “Do you have any idea how many black threes are in that deck?” she moaned to no one in particular.

Eleanor tisk-tisked, shooting Cat a sidelong glance. “I’ll pray for you, dearie.”

“That’s it,” Mary muttered, shooting her gaze around the table. “That’s it. Next week, she’s somebody else’s problem.”

“Oh Mary.”

“Nope. No way,” the woman said, her thin lips pulling into a wrinkled line. “I’m out. Girl’s even worse than she was last week.”

“Mary—”

“Except last weeks she was all grins and goopy smiles,” Mary said, her gaze settling on Cat finally. She leaned across the table. “But not today.”

Watching this almost as though she was merely an audience member at a play, Cat didn’t bother to comment. She wasn’t interested. Honestly, Mary had a right to be irritated. She wasn’t paying attention. She probably should have called-off for the evening.

Clearly that’s what she should have done.

“Her lips are all smushy.”

“Yeah, but not daydreamy,” Mary said, as if this was an important distinction.

“That’s true,” Erna murmured.

“You know, now that you mention it, Matt was a bit…grumpy this afternoon at the store,” Birdie said, her eyes swiveling to Cat’s in a searching gaze.

Fanning out her cards in a deliberate show of indifference, Cat took a glance at the deck she’d just stupidly decided to pick up. Scratch her earlier thought. Mary not only had a right to be irritated—she had the right to be throwing an all-out temper tantrum. There wasn’t one card in the pile that she could use. Sighing without quite meaning to, Cat laid down a black three.

“See?” Mary said, waving her hand in front of Cat’s face. “Nothing. Last week, the girl darn near passed out at the mention of his name. This week? Nothing.”

“Cat?”

Lifting her head, Cat smiled. “I have no idea why Matt might have been grumpy—other than the fact that it’s one of his favorite moods.” She said this last bit with a lighthearted edge to her voice. “And Mary is right. I’m off my game today. I’m sorry.”

Perhaps it was the too-conversational tone of her voice, but three pairs of eyes looked at her, nonplussed at the words.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Cat said, and she meant it. She smiled. It came naturally to her face. But still—something must have looked off. The other women almost recoiled at the turn of her mouth. “Everything’s fine.”

And everything was fine. Staring down at her cards, she tried to compose her features. Friday night was…special. Especially the night part. And, and, yes, all right, Friday day had kind of sucked but—Cat mentally shrugged, at least she’d learned somethings about Matt.

He didn’t like to be pushed, and he didn’t like to surprised, and he most certainly did not want to start a woodworking shop.

Then again, she’d also learned he didn’t hold a grudge.

That’s where Friday night came into play. Crossing her legs in reaction to the thought, Cat settled into her chair. If Matt’s appearance had been a revelation the rest of the evening had been…a marathon. Biting her lip at the stray thought, Cat felt the tip of her finger playing with the edge of the cards in her hand again.

So really, everything was fine.

Really.

Except.

Except something was missing. In only the span of a weekend, Cat could feel it. Certain subjects had become off-limits. By a silent mutual agreement, neither of them uttered so much as a word about woodworking. The subject was too raw; Cat couldn’t bring it up without feeling conspicuous—like Matt would assume she was only trying to elbow in one more pointed comment. Hell, she hadn’t even felt comfortably asking him about Amelia’s project. And he’d never offered up any information, either.

Even talk about the hardware store felt slightly taboo—almost queasy. Cat had basically avoided any mention of his working life or his one great hobby, which was okay, she supposed, because it left a lot of time to talk about other things—

Cat frowned. The conversation hadn’t lacked over the weekend (and after Friday night, Matt stuck around for most of Saturday, too); in fact, the conversation had never lagged. It had an almost frenetic quality to it. Feeling the silence with white-noise.

Then again, when they eventually did run out of small-talk, well, that left the hours open for other activities.

So yeah, it was good.

Everything was fine.

This time, she wasn’t going to overthink things.

She wasn’t.

Get a grip, she scolded herself. With a forceful shake of her head, she brought her mind back to the present. She was sitting at Julie’s Café, playing Canasta with her eighty-year-old friends. Not an appropriate time for daydreaming.

She just wished he’d listen to her. About the woodworking. She knew what she was talking about—three weeks ago she’d felt like a completely different person than she knew herself to be today. She’d felt vaguely restless. Her friends had moved away. She hadn’t been sure why she hadn’t done more with her life. She’d suddenly realized her job wasn’t as fulfilling as she’d once imagined it would be.

And yet, all of those worries, those questions, one on top of another, had been so overwhelming she’d been paralyzed by indecision.

And then—one broken door and so many things had changed in her life. It’d forced her into the hardware store, broken her out of her safe, boring little routine. It had filled her with anxiety, sure, but also with a sense of excitement and interest, which had expanded into other areas of her life. She had friends. Great friends. And she’d fallen in love with this town all over again.

She could see the same rut wrapping itself around Matt.

“…Cat? Cat, it’s your turn.”

Snapping back to reality, Cat looked up at Mary apologetically. Then she picked up a card. Biting her lip, she carefully scrutinized her hand, then her team’s board before discarding.

Hell, maybe Matt had been right. That she was using him as a distraction, because she certainly felt that way lately, distracted. And she was starting to realize why, too. It all came back to that damned black binder. Which made it another thing on an alarmingly growing list of things she wasn’t sure she felt comfortable talking about with Matt.

 

 

 

Canasta had just finished for the evening, with Harriet carefully gathering up the cards, when Cat felt a hand settle on the back of her chair. Looking up, she blinked in surprise at Mary’s frowning face. In the bustle of movement, she hadn’t seen the older woman rise to her feet.

“Walk me to my car,” Mary said. It wasn’t a request.

“Uh, sure,” Cat replied, a questioning note in her voice. All the same, she quickly vacated her seat, shooting Birdie a nervous glance as she said a hurried goodbye to the group. Turning around, she saw that Mary was already at the door, her rubber-soled shoe tapping impatiently. Gaining the outside walkway, Cat hunched her shoulders up in preparation for the scolding she undoubtedly deserved.

“About tonight. I’m sorry—”

Waving off the words, Mary huffed out into the chilly evening air. The sun was hanging low in the sky now, with only a weak light of warmth. “He’s a good one.”

“Huh?”

“Matthew McBoy. He’s a good catch.”

Opening her mouth, Cat caught a breath of cold air against her teeth. Slowing to a stop, she looked at Mary. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

“Last week you were practically dancing on the table. It was nice to see.”

“It was?”

Mary shrugged. “Of course it was. Don’t screw it up now.”

“Me?”

Mary gave her a searching look. “Why else would he be grumpy to his grandmother on the same day you look like a deflated rag doll.”

Cat chuckled. “You’ve certainly got a way with words.”

“Don’t try to butter an old lady up,” Mary said with a small chuckle. Slipping her arm through Cat’s, they presumed walking. “And don’t pretend that nothing’s wrong. You don’t have a good poker face.”

“Guess it’s a good thing we don’t play that card game.”

Mary harrumphed.

“Nothing’s wrong. We had a fight last weekend,” Cat said, hearing the words with something of a shock. She couldn’t begin to understand why she felt the need to explain herself to this woman. “But it’s over now.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“And how would you know?”

“Don’t you get smart with me,” Mary said, her fingers curly a bit viciously around Cat’s forearm. “I was happily married for thirty years. I know when emotions get the better of reality.”

Cat was quiet for a moment.

“It’s easy to get caught up in the feelings at the start,” Mary continued as they reached the end of the block. Crossing the street, she continued: “The buildup of anticipation, the foreplay of flirting, and then the almost letdown when you get what you want.”

Cat frowned. She wasn’t following. “The let down?”

“Like the after-Christmas blues, you know?”

“I mean, I know the saying.”

“We expend so much feeling to get to that moment—the one you were reveling in last week, all glazed-over and excited.”

Cat wasn’t sure what was the more troubling, her own preoccupation with Matt or the fact that Mary had somehow become a love expert.

“And it’s weird—almost like sometimes then, once we’ve finally gotten what we wanted, we don’t know what to do with those residual feelings anymore. There still there, squirming away at our insides, fighting for expression. So we find something to focus on. Sometimes it’s good,” Mary says, her voice carrying a faraway sound. “And sometimes it’s not.”

“And you think that’s what’s happening? Because I seemed a little distracted today?” Pulling up to Mary’s small black car, Cat waited while the older woman fished the keys out of her pants pocket.

“You didn’t seem surprised to hear Birdie say that Matt was grumpy.”

Cat shrugged one shoulder. “He kind of always is.”

“Not with her.”

“No,” Cat sighed. Mary had a point. “I guess not.”

“Nor did you seem altogether interested in the subject.”

“Well, someone was already blasting me about my level of attention to the cards.”

“Oh hell,” Mary grumbled. “That’s not it. You didn’t want to ask any leading questions.”

“No?” Cat knew she was acting like a snot, but she wasn’t all-together sure she appreciated Mary’s sudden nosiness.

“No, and you didn’t want anyone else to ask any, either.”

Cat clenched her teeth.

“Listen, it’s none of my business, and I’m sure I don’t care much one way or another,” Mary said, sounding a bit like her usual self once more. “But I like you.”

“Ah, thank you?”

“And I love that boy. So figure your shit out and then let it go.” Cracking open her car door, Mary carefully lowered herself in the seat. Looking up at Cat, she offered one final piece of advice. “I don’t know you well, but you play cards like you’re always imaging the worst-case scenario—so focused on what the other teams’ strategies might be that you don’t take time to figure out your own. And once you do figure it out, you always go for the biggest extreme. The move that’ll make it or break it for your team.” Mary nodded quietly to herself. “It’s got promise, but it’s also got pitfalls.”

Cat’s mouth was open in response but she never got the option to speak. With those words hanging eerily in the air, Mary shut her door in Cat’s face. With a quick motion, she started up her car and, without even waving goodbye, she turned out onto the street.

“Well, hell,” Cat said, unintentionally repeating Mary’s own words.

 

The post Life Reconstructed: Chapter Thirty-One appeared first on LitLiber.

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Thirty

Cat was standing in her kitchen, uncorking a bottle of wine when she heard her intercom buzz. Rushing to the front entryway, she hit the admit button. Unlocking her door, she left it open a crack before returning the wine.

“Hello?”

“Come on in. I’m breaking open the vino,” Cat called, her voice carrying down the hallway.

“I’ve got the pizza.”

A third voice called out: “Oh, hold the door please—”

“Hey Alex,” Cat heard Amelia say.

“Hey, girl.” And then, echoing down the walls: “Hey Cat!”

“I’m in the kitchen, guys.”

“I brought the chocolates.” Pouring three glasses of cabernet, Cat could just make out two sets of feet walking down the hardwood floors.

“I dibs the one with almonds in the center,” she heard Amelia saying to Alex.

“Fine because I want the coconut one.”

“What kind of pizza did you get?” Cat called out then, as their steps neared, turning down the hallway.

“Only the best kind,” Amelia assured her as she and Alex entered the kitchen. With a flourish, she popped the top off the box and tipped the pizza toward both girls for their inspection. “Get a look at this—!”

“Green peppers, onions, sausages—”

Cat licked her lips. “And mushrooms.”

“Delicious.”

Smiling wolfishly, Amelia set the opened pizza on the table. Following suit, Alex mirrored her movements, depositing the chocolates beside it.

“Hi there, honey,” Amelia said belatedly, her attention shifting from the food to the pale pallor of Cat’s countenance. Amelia’s voice gentled as she moved to embrace her. “Bad day, huh, pumpkin?”

“Not very good.” Then she felt Alex’s arms come up, around, and over Amelia’s. Leaning into her friends, she felt the first smile of the afternoon drift across her lips. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Hey,” Alex murmured. “When you get a mayday text, you take care of business.”

“Absolutely,” Amelia agreed. “Now, where’s that wine?”

Laughing in unison—not because Amelia’s words had been particularly witty, but because none of the girls wanted to start the evening with tears—they separated at the words. Moving with economy, they lost little time filling up their plates, grabbing their wine and settling in Cat’s living room.

“Want to tell us what happened?” Amelia asked, taking a nibble of her pizza.

Cat sighed. Setting her untouched dinner down on her lap, she leaned forward, her hands searching blindly underneath the coffee table straight ahead of her.

“You okay?” Alex asked.

“This is what happened,” Cat said, retrieving that damned black binder. Looking at it, she grimaced. She’d told Matt that she’d destroy it, and she would, but first—tossing it to Amelia, she grabbed for her pizza again. Leaning into her cushion, she watched while Amelia bent her head over first one page and then another; anxious, Alex leaned forward to read over Amelia’s shoulder.

Much the same as Matt, Cat was forced to wait while their crinkled brows smoothed out, as understanding flitted across their puckered lips. And, just the same as Matt, neither of them was smiling when their wide eyes lifted to Cat’s.

“What is this?” Amelia asked skeptically. Setting the binder down on the coffee table, she took a bite of pizza.

“I, uh, well, you know how good Matt is at woodworking,” Cat said, sputtering to a start. She looked up at Alex. “He really is—tell her.”

“He’s amazing,” Amelia said, but still there was that skepticism clinging to her person.

“But he, well, he’s so afraid to do anything with this gift, so he hides it away. Keeping it safe from the unknowns of a reality that might not match up with his dreams,” Cat breathlessly. “But he loves doing it,” she muttered down to her pizza. “I mean, honestly, I’ve never met a man more content to spend hours on end with the whirl of table saws and whatnot ringing in his ears.”

“Wait a minute,” Amelia said, lifting up a hand. “You made that thing?” she asked, her hand pointing toward the binder.

Cat’s lips pursed. “Yup.”

“Did Matt ask you to do it?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Amelia and Alex said together.

Cat picked up her pizza, then she set it back down again. “I thought it would help.”

Setting her empty plate down at her feet, Alex reached forward to rifle through the binder again.

“Oh honey,” Amelia sighed, shaking her head. “I wish you would have talked to us about this earlier.”

Cat’s eyes filled with tears. “Yeah—Matt hated it, too.”

“I didn’t say I hated it,” Amelia said, reaching forward to squeeze Cat’s knee. “It’s just a little…”

“Insane,” Alex supplied. Lifting her head, she smiled her toothy grin. “But in that great Cat Cryer kind of way—everyone’s best, most loyal supporter.”

Cat sniffled. “It was insane.”

“Your heart was in the right place,” Amelia said.

“And it’s brilliantly laid-out,” Alex said.

“Will you please?” Amelia snapped, her head turning dangerously in Alex’s direction.

“What?” Alex asked with big eyes. “This is fantastic. If I wanted to start a business, I would want this puppy.” For added effect, she patted her hand against the hard-plastic cover.

“But Matt doesn’t want to start a business,” Cat said, shaking her head. “He told me so repeatedly today.”

“Oh, hon—”

At the soft words, Cat felt the first tear fall from her eyes. It was shortly followed by another. “I know it’s stupid to be this upset,” she cried, wiping her eyes, “but I was so excited to show him. I thought he’d love it.”

Amelia and Alex exchanged eloquent glances. Nonetheless, both girls abandoned their spots to squeeze in on either side of Cat.

“He looked at me like…” Cat batted the words away. “I ruined everything.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Cat nodded. She wasn’t sure she believed Alex’s strong defense, but she also knew she didn’t want to think about it.

“I worked so hard on that,” she said. “Which is totally selfish, isn’t it?”

“Well, a little. Ow!” Alex cried, jumping from the slight pinch of Amelia’s fingers. “But hey, who isn’t a little selfish?”

“And Alex was right,” Amelia admitted. “The binder is truly amazing. You have every right to be proud of the work you did.”

Cat sniffed. “Yeah?”

“I would have loved one when I got the crazy idea to start my studio.”

 

 

 

 

 

Though they tried, in the end, Alex and Amelia were little more than a few hours of distraction. Cat’s thoughts wouldn’t be ignored forever. Long after Amelia and Alex left that evening, she sat on her couch cross-legged and stared at the tightly closed binder, her eyes narrowed on its stiff backing.

What the hell had she been thinking? “And really, why did you think he’d welcome the invasion?” She asked because she realized it truly had been an invasion. She’d known it was an invasion even as she’d done it, but she’d been so sure the result would justify the means. Shrugging her shoulders, she sank down deeper into the green couch cushions. She’d just wanted to do something for him. After everything he’d done for her.

“…and I think he’s wasting this amazing gift,” she muttered, her eyebrows pulling low over her eyes. “But it’s not the comfortable, safe road to travel, so he’ll be content to pretend he’d rather work at a hardware store that his grandfather loved.” She stuck out her tongue. “Well, whatever—”

Jerking at the sudden buzz of her intercom, Cat leaned forward hesitantly as a voice echoed down the narrow length of her front hallway. There was a slight scratchiness to the words, no doubt due to the high winds of approaching evening, robbing the voice of an identify markers. Shoving off the couch, she let her feet drag her to the intercom. Pushing down on the TALK button she said: “I’m sorry? Who’s there?”

“Matt.”

Her stomach pinched at the one-word response. Without bothering to respond, her fingers slipping against the keys in her rush, she admitted him inside. Her fingers moved in a frenzy of chaos as she unlocked her front door. She could hear coming down the hallway even as she swung it open.

Her large green eyes skittered nervously up to his as he came into view. Stopping just outside her door, a lightweight sheepskin jacket thrown casually over his blue-and-white plaid shirt, Matt didn’t speak for a moment. His brown eyes were slightly shadowed beneath the brim of his hat.

Cat licked her lips. “Hi.”

Matt inclined his head. His lips kicked up at the corners of his mouth. “Been drinking?”

“Huh?”

Without waiting for an invitation, he shouldered his way through the door. Bewildered, Cat stepped backward to allow him easier entrance.

“I thought as much,” he muttered, one hand coming up to take his hat off his head. Then she could see his eyes. They glanced down at her with undeniable mirth.

“I’m-I’m—” Cat’s eyes rounded, her feet back-pedaling quickly at Matt continued moving forward, his steps calculated as they swallowed up the space between them.

“I can smell it on your breath, Cat,” he murmured, his head bending at the same time as one hand came up to cradle the side of her face. It was then that she felt the strength of the wall behind her. She had no place else to go.

Not that she wanted to.

She pinkened. “Oh. Yes, well…”

“I wonder what’s been spinning through that head of yours all day,” Matt muttered.

Cat pouted up at him. Her heart was rocking against her chest. He was here. Here. But… “You were so mad at me earlier.”

Matt nodded solemnly, but his eyes were clearly focused on her lips. “Yeah. I was.”

“I wasn’t sure—” she slithered to a pause, her large eyes peeking up at him pointedly. She wasn’t sure she could say the words. Standing here now, cocooned in his arms, it felt rather…foolish. It felt like an overreaction.

He titled his head a little to one side. “Really?” The incredulity in his voice confirmed her fears.

She squirmed.

“That seems a bit extreme,” he murmured, but the smile never left his voice. Instead, he leaned even closer, his lips hovering, teasing hers when they stopped just a breath away from her mouth.

“Then again, I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you.” His lips just barely brushed against hers with the words. Cat mewed quietly, piteously. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Saving me from myself, again?” She asked, her mouth following blindly after his.

“Looks like I’m just in time, too.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, her arms reaching up, her fingers trailing over his arms and across his shoulders. “But you should have seen your face earlier.”

“That was then,” he whispered, “and this is now.”

“Hmm—”

“And for the record,” he said, his lips nibbling against hers in chaste, biting kisses. “They are mutually exclusive, okay?”

“I’m starting to get that.”

“Yeah, but I think the reminder will come in handy.”

Cat smirked up at him. “For the next time I piss you off, you mean?”

“Did I say that?” Matt whispered, his head bending to finally take full possession of her lips. Her stomach knotting as the intensity of the kiss grew, Cat felt her back arch just slightly as his hands trailed a lazy lineup and down her sides, his lower body coming to press down against her hips.

“Matt?” Breaking away, Cat’s chest rose and fell heavily over the word

“Yes?”

She was moderately satisfied to hear the same hoarse, uneven quality to his voice.

“Are you staying the night?”

“God, is that an invitation?”

In answer, Cat stretched her left arm out to the side and, grabbing for the doorknob to her bedroom, she gave it a quick, firm twist. With a groan of feeling, Matt brought his mouth crashing down against hers. In one sweeping motion, Cat found herself hoisted up in his arms, her legs swinging around his hips, her arms clutching his shoulders as his leg gently coaxed the door fully open.

The next thing Cat knew, the world tilted as he set her down on the bed, his legs straddling her hips as he bent down at the waist to trail kisses down the side of her neck….

 

The post Life Reconstructed: Chapter Thirty appeared first on LitLiber.

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Nine

The only question that haunted her, sitting in her office that Thursday morning, her eyes staring absently at the report on her computer screen that she should have started on half an hour ago, was his initial, seemingly-instinctive reluctance at the onset of these projects. But then, once he’d start, he was completely enthralled; he’d all but itch to get back to the wood, to lose himself in the whirling clam of his machines, in the concept of creativity and design. The inconsistency between these two reactions was as startling as it was challenging.

“Like that picture frame,” she muttered to herself, remembering at instance earlier in the week when she’d surprised him working on the beautiful piece. “He’d said it was supposed be one, maybe, that was if he didn’t screw it up first.” Chewing on the end of her pen, Cat considered that perhaps he was just scared.

Scared he would fail; scared the reality of his passion wouldn’t live up to the idea in his mind. She supposed that was fair. The only thing worse than not chasing a dream was realizing that it didn’t hold up in the stark light of production.

“And then there’s his grandfather’s hardware store,” she muttered, remembering what Birdie had told her—that it wasn’t Matt’s dream, rather his familial obligation to run and operate the store.

“But Birdie would understand,” she mused, pushing her chair backward. “If he wanted to sell the place, she’d understand.” Getting up, she stalked the small space of her office, her hand brushing against the edge of her desk, the high back of the client chair facing it, her eyes bouncing off the pictures and books—

She wasn’t sure exactly that prompted her to do it. Certainly, she had work to get accomplished that day, but pushing all that to the back of her inbox, Cat returned once more to her desk, her steps determined, her fingers confident on the keyboard as she bent to the task of researching the how’s and where’s of starting a business.

She knew she was overstepping.

She knew it was absolutely none of her business.

She also knew that what Matt needed was a little push. It had sort of been the pattern of their experiences. Pushing a cooling cup of coffee to one side of her desk, she smiled as she read one legal document and then another, printing state guides, how-to articles by experienced bloggers, and even a few check-lists on government and municipal websites, so that by the time she left the office that evening, far later than usual, Cat’s arms were loaded down with information, graphics, a few doodles and ideas.

Smiling as she locked up, Cat knew where she had to go—the office supply store. Stopping in, she lost little time purchasing poster boards, card stock, a pack of printing paper and some markers and pens. Checking out, she felt her stomach clinch as the clerk bagged up her supplies. There was a bottle of wine waiting for her at home, and a pair of scissors. She’d undoubtedly need both.

 

 

 

“McBoy Hardware, how can I help you?”

“Matt?”

“Hey Cat.”

Licking her lips, Cat stared down at the black portfolio she held tightly in her grasp. It was a little after two in the afternoon on Friday and she should have been eyeballs deep in work—especially considering the amount she hadn’t done the day before. With a flick of her shoulder, she supposed it was bound to be another long day at the office.

Whatever. This was going to be worth it.

“What, eh, what are you doing tonight?” She hated the pitchy quality of her voice, the insecurity that oozed out despite her best efforts.

“Well, I was going to do a little more work on Amelia’s closet,” he said hesitantly.

Cat cringed. She didn’t want to look desperate, and she wasn’t! Really. This wasn’t a call for personal reasons. She had something to discuss with him.

“Mind if I stop over for a quick minute after work?”

“Uh, sure.”

Cat felt her throat dry up at the words, her excitement morphing as she glanced up at the overhead clock. “Okay. I should be there about seven.”

“Sounds good.”

She was as good as her word. The clock in her car had just ticked over to seven o’clock as she pulled into the back parking lot of McBoy’s Hardware Store. Crossing her fingers, she hoped that Birdie didn’t have plans in town that afternoon since her small sedan was now snuggly taking residence in that ladies’ designated spot. Hopping out, her arms crossed protectively around the binder, she marched up the rutted driveway and into the dimly-lit warehouse.

At the sound of the door opening, Matt lifted his head. Smiling in muted greeting, he set down a carving tool on the workbench beside him. Brushing his hands on his jeans, he stood up. “Hey Cat—what’s up?”

“Hi, hi,” she said, tripping over to him quickly. Without further preamble, she thrust out her hands, showing him the binder. “I, ah, I have something for you.”

Tilting his head a little to one side, his gaze took in the binder with some skepticism before lifting once more to her flushed features. “Yeah?”

“Here. Take a look.” Holding her breath, Cat watched as Matt slowly took possession of the binder, his eyes lowering to it as he flipped open the first page. Frowning, he turned over another page.

Unable to take her eyes off of him, Cat waited for his expression to clear, waited for understanding to dawn. When it finally did, she had to admit, it didn’t look the way she’d imagined.

“What the hell is this?” Matt finally asked, snapping the binder closed. His brown eyes shot up to her face, catching her smile and devouring it.

“It’s, it’s a business plan,” Cat stuttered, her fingers pointing to the condemned thing in his hand. Grabbing for it, she re-opened the first page. “Now, obviously I don’t know much about this industry—”

“Obviously.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, Cat sailed ahead. “And this is only a mock-up example, but I threw together a quick business proposal. Oh, and here,” she said, flicking over a couple of pages. “These are some of the worksheets you’d need to fill out to get yourself incorporated, if you wanted… plus I added a directory for locating any licenses or permits…” A little breathless now, she lifted her head only to see an angry slash of color rising in his cheeks.

Dropping her eyes frantically, her movements more out of desperation than demonstration, her fingers turned to another page. “And here—well, I looked up some information on creating a website. It all looks really easy. And this, well, this was just silliness really,” she said weakly, pointing to the graphic logo she’d created, along with some company taglines. “You’d probably want to do this yourself, but…but…”

“But what, Cat?” He asked quietly. His arms were crossed over his chest, his brown eyes narrowed into slits.

“Well,” shrugging her shoulders, Cat wasn’t sure what to say. Anxious tears stung the back of her eyes as she chanced another glance at Matt’s shuttered expression. This was not how she’d planned this would go. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, really, but… Her throat burned. “I wanted to show you how easy it would be to…”

“To what? To start a business?” Matt barked with laughter, his arms spanning out wide. “Yeah, I’m well aware of what it takes to start a business.”

“But you didn’t start this business.”

Too late, Cat realized she’d made a mistake. Another mistake.

Matt’s eyes widened and then narrowed again. His lips compressed so tightly that a thin white line appeared around the edges. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying…”

“And you think that the hard work is only involved in the beginning? That taxes and renewals and licensing—that those are one-shot deals?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t know how many times we have to have this conversation,” Matt growled. “I already have a business, Cat. I’m not in the market for another one.”

“No, I know.”

“Do you?”

“But you don’t love this place,” Cat said, her own arms sweeping wide to mirror Matt’s earlier movement. “Not the way you love woodworking.”

“Woodworking is a hobby, Cat. For Christ’s sake.”

“But it doesn’t have to be,” she returned, her voice almost pleading now. Her eyes skipped over to the piece he’d been working on when she arrived. “You love doing this. I know you do.”

Matt ran an irritated hand through his hair. “That doesn’t mean—”

“And you’re brilliant at it. I think so, Amelia certainly thinks so. I could barely get her off the phone she was so pleased with the wardrobe.”

“If I wanted to make this a business, I would have done so.”

“I don’t think so.” Pulling her shoulders back, Cat waited for the explosion. She knew she was probably going too far, saying things she had no business saying, and yet…

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so afraid of failing. Of failing Birdie by selling this place, afraid of starting a business only to lose it, afraid of not being good enough. You’re terrified that it won’t work, but if you never start, well…that’s safe then.”

Matt’s jaw clenched at the words.

“That’s why you made such a fuss over fixing my door and, and working on Amelia’s wardrobe,” Cat continued, her voice growing in volume. She’d already said too much, what was a little bit more? “At first I thought it was because it was an inconvenience to you. That you didn’t want to spend what little free time you had working out here, but that’s not it.”

“Christ.”

“It’s because you were afraid of how much you’d love it, how intoxicating it would be. I think you knew it would lead you here, wanting something desperately but too afraid to go after it. If no one knew, if you could just pretend that tinkering was enough, if no one could witness the energy and genius behind your work, then you could tuck it away, unseen and unrealized.”

“I’m too afraid?” Matt scoffed. “I am?”

Cat lifted her wobbling chin. Matt was looking at her in a way that determined the course of their future. “Yes, I think so.”

“I think you’ve got it backward, lady.” Taking a menacing step closer, Matt leered in her direction. “You’re so busy pushing your nose into others people’s lives, have you ever thought to ask why?”

“I don’t—”

Matt flapped a hand toward the binder she still held in one hand. “I mean, who the hell asked you to do that?”

“Certainly, you didn’t!”

“You’re damn right. And who’s idea was it to meddle in Amelia’s closet reconstruction?”

Cat felt her cheeks suck in. “But, you know why…”

“Do I?” Matt countered. “I used to think you were just dramatic, but now I think maybe you’re the one who’s running away.”

“What?”

“You accuse me of hiding behind the comfort of my grandfather’s business? Why did you make such a freaking ordeal out of that fixing damn door—why’d you stretch it out, fretting and fretting over nothing?”

“Really? This again?”

“Because,” Matt said, talking over her, “you needed the distraction. Just like now.”

“Oh?” Cat challenged, though a part of her recognized the truth in those words. At least, a little bit. “From what?”

“I don’t know,” Matt shouted. “Unlike you, I don’t think it’s any of my business to go poking into your life.”

Cat sucked her lips into her mouth at the attack. “That’s not fair. I was only trying to help.”

“No, you weren’t. If that were the case, you would have dropped this whole damn subject when you first brought it up to me.”

“I get it that you’re upset,” Cat said through stiff lips, “but I’m not sure your reaction is entirely appropriate.”

“That’s probably why you worked so hard to convince Amelia she needed a new closet,” Matt muttered. “Just another way to prove yourself right, right?”

“You make it sound diabolical,” Cat protested, the smallest of smiles edging out on her lips.

That was mistake number three.

“I’m done explaining myself to you,” Matt said, his voice clipped. Re-crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back on the heels of his boots.

“I’m sorry,” Cat said. “Please,” throwing up her arms, the book unintentionally waving in front of Matt’s face, she cringed. “I never meant to go behind your back.”

“There’s no other definition for the phrase,” Matt insisted. Snatching the book out of her hands, he tossed it on the floor.

“Matt, please, I—” Feeling her lips trembling, Cat’s eyes switched from his face to the binder and back again. There was something so final in the action, so accusatory. Before now, she’d hadn’t thought Matt possessed the emotional range to get this upset.

She’d been wrong.

She’d been wrong on so many counts.

Her shoulders shook a little. Three hours ago, she’d been brimming over with excitement, her eyes checking and double-checking her facts and researching, adding and eliminating pages at the last minute, her lips pulling into an irrepressible grin as she’d imagined Matt’s reaction.

She probably should have known it would go over a little like this.

But after all the work he’d done for Amelia—his undeniable excitement as he’d worked late into the evening, his conversation veering that way on more than one occasion on their evenings out.

Evenings that would come to an abrupt end after this.

She’d known she’d have to do a little cajoling, a little convincing to get him fully on board but she’d thought…laid out in those simply terms, she’d thought he’d find comfort in the neatly arranged information, that he’d find confidence in the breakdown of paperwork, the forms and fact he’d need to compile. She’d thought she’d finally used that overactive, overthinking brain to good use by locating everything he’d need and then organizing it an easy, step-by-step system.

It had been foolish. And not just because he’d thrown her offer back in her face. He’d also stopped looking at her.

“Look, I need to get back to Amelia’s project,” Matt said, cutting her off, his words nice but cool.

Cat sucked in a breath, her hand wiping against the bottom of her nose. “Please, please don’t be mad at me.”

With a flick of his eyes, Matt’s feelings went into eclipse. “It’s fine, Cat.” He gave her a level look. “Now you know.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Now I know.”

Tossing his head backward, he repeated himself, “I really should get back to it.”

“Yes, of course.” Swallowing back tears, Cat bent down to retrieve the binder. At Matt’s questioning scowl, she said: “I’ll just get rid of this for you.” Glancing up at him, she tried again. Despite his easy words just now, she could practically feel his anger. “It was a stupid idea, anyway.”

Matt held up a hand. “Stop. Leave it alone, Cat. Let’s just be done with the whole thing, okay?”

Cat felt her shoulders tensing. “The whole thing?”

Matt sighed. His eyes stared at her without expression. And suddenly, she was terrified of what he’d say next.

Holding up a hand, she pulled her lips up in a grotesque smile. “Okay.” Taking a step backward, the binder clutched to her chest protectively, her eyes traveled no higher than his broad shoulders. “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

“Cat?”

“Yes?”

Matt’s chin jutted forward. “Throw that thing away, huh?”

“I’ll just do that very thing,” she whispered, her free hand already reaching behind her for the doorknob.

The post Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Nine appeared first on LitLiber.

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Her excitement had been worth it, after all. Sitting across from Matt the following evening in a trendy bar and grill on the south side of the town, Cat settled back against her plush, leather chair as the server enquired over Matt’s meal. High, arched windows danced around two of the four walls in the exposed brick building. Dim, amber-lighting set off a quiet, affluent glow against a backdrop of black-tie servers, polished mahogany tables and an impressive wine and beer list.

“…steak, prepared med-rare, please,” Cat heard Matt say. A snap of remorse bit at her stomach. She loved steak; she’d ordered the chicken marsala though. She was never really sure what the dating etiquette said when it came to price expectations…. Snapping back to attention, she watched idly as the server made a smiling gesture before taking his leave.

Alone for the first time that evening (since they’d driven there separately and the hostess had only just seated them before the server promptly arrived with wine list in hand), Cat tried to swallow past an entirely expected attack of nerves.

“So, how’s the—”

“Did you get any—”

At the simultaneously-poised questions, both Matt and Cat stopped speaking. Blushing a little, Cat waved Matt onward. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

“Oh, I was just going to ask, we never did get a chance to talk about what happened with the kitchen after last Saturday?”

Cat flapped her wrist dismissively. “It went great. My friend Alex came over to help me finish.”

“Alex?”

Cat rather enjoyed the predatory note that slipped into Matt’s question. She hadn’t done it on purpose, but she relished the split second of victory that she received upon acknowledging the very gender-neutral quality of the name. And she very much relished the downward pull of his lips.

“She’s one of my neighbors,” Cat said, with just the right touch of emphasis. “So, we finished up painting and when everything was dry, bam-boom I threw the doors up together.”

Matt chuckled, leaning back in his chair as the server returned with both of their drinks. “Bam-boom, huh?”

Swirling her glass of wine, Cat refused to meet that teasing tone of voice. She shrugged. “Well, it’s pretty bam-boom to me now.”

“Fair enough.”

Taking a healthy drink, Cat mirrored Matt’s pose. Leaning back into the barrel-chair, she let her arms lay loosely on the curved, wooden rests. “Did you get much done on Amelia’s project yesterday?”

A crack of tension spilled across the table at the words. Over the rim of his beer, Matt’s eyes crinkled across the table at her. Then, with slow precision, he took a drink of his dark beer. “You mean, after I’d taken care of my biggest distraction?”

Cat giggled. “Oh, is that what I was?”

“Yes, and you know it.”

She smirked down at her glass of chardonnay. “Yes, after I left.”

“I got through three different mock-ups.”

“Three?” She whistled. “That must have taken awhile.”

Matt shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.”

If there was anything that Cat had learned about Matt, if you wanted to know something you really had to pull and dig for the information. She’d rarely met a man who liked to talk less. “How long where you at it?”

He seemed somewhat reluctant to answer her question. “I emailed the proofs to Amelia around eight o’clock.”

“Eight o’clock?” Cat’s eyes rounded as she did the quick math. “God, that was…almost ten hours.”

Matt shrugged again. His shoulders seemed a little tense with the action now. “Yeah, well, I sort of lost track of time.”

Cat eyes gleamed with amusement.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed, her finger playing with the stem of her wine glass. “It just seems…odd.”

“That I’d do a thorough job?”

“Oh, of course not,” Cat snapped, her eyes flipping upward at the remark. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just, for a man so staunchly opposed to doing this kind of work, you sure get sucked into it.”

“It’s not that I don’t love doing it.”

“Well, obviously.”

“But, as I’ve said to you on more than one occasion, I already have a full-time job. More than full-time job. I can’t afford to spread myself too thin. And if I really wanted to make a go of something like this—”

So he’d thought about it. Cat determinedly bit back the answering smile to this confession. He’d thought about it. That meant something.

Still, Cat wasn’t interested in another spirited debate on that subject. Not tonight. Raising her hands up, Cat smiled across the table at him. “Okay, okay, I surrender. Still, I don’t see why you couldn’t just pick up gigs on the side, when you had the time. Or make a few pieces to sell in your store.”

Matt didn’t respond directly, instead all he said was: “I could, or I could be spending the evening out with a beautiful woman. I think I made the wise choice.”

And really, what could she have possibly managed to say to that?

 

 

 

 

“I heard a certain someone went on a date with my grandson yesterday,” Birdie announced on Monday evening. Staring with unusual fixation on her cards, she let the words travel across the Canasta table.

“What? Who?” Erna asked. Leaning so far forward that everyone had a view of her cards, she waited for Birdie to continue.

Groaning silently, Cat prayed the older woman would show some tact. Pulling her own cards up to just under her eyes, she watched as Birdie slowly laid down a meld on her team’s board. Then her eyes flicked over to Cat.

“Care to comment, Ms. Cat?”

“You?” Pointing a gnarled finger at Cat, Mary practically shouted the word—which felt a little more like an accusation than a declaration.

Sighing, Cat set her cards down on the table. But unlike Erna, she had the forethought to turn them face-down. She knew her face was pinched, closed-off. She didn’t want to spend the evening in interrogation mode. “We had dinner.”

But dammit! At the words, her mouth moved of its own accord, the shape shifting, melting into a shy smile. And her eyes dropped their hard emotion, falling to the table.

“And?” Harriet asked, elbowing Cat none-to-gently. “How’d it go?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious by her mucky face,” Mary said on a snort. “Just look at the girl, she’s practically ready to fall off her chair.”

“Oh, I am not!” Cat said, but the vehemence in her voice gave her away.

“Was he a gentleman, my dear?” Birdie asked, laying a soft hand over Cat’s. “Now mind, I don’t want the details or anything but…”

“He was a perfect gentleman,” Cat assured her, and it was true. After dinner he’d walked her to her car. Wrapping his arms around her, he’d given her a sweet, soft kiss before asking her if she had any plans for Wednesday evening.

“N-no,” she’d told him.

“Good,” he’d winked, letting his arms break from around her shoulders. “You do now.”

“What?”

“I’m not telling yet,” he’d whispered. Bending down, he’d given her one final kiss before whispering goodnight.

“Oh, shit—the girl’s gone officially loopy,” Mary said, gesturing to Cat’s admittedly distracted face. “That’s it,” she cried, giving Cat a dark look. “This is the last week I’m going to partner with her.”

“Mary.”

“At least until she can manage to mention his name without getting that stupid look on her face,” Mary said, but there was just the smallest inkling of a smile on her face. “She’s absolutely useless to me now.”

“Cut the girl a break,” Harriet said, shooting Mary a frown. “Have you seen the boy, lately?” Using her cards like a fan in front of her face, Harriet cooed. “My God, he’s a hunk.”

Cat giggled.

Erna blushed.

Birdie laughed delightedly. “Takes after his grandfather.”

“I’d be falling off my chair if that men took me as far as across the street, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Jesus, Harriet. Keep it in your pants.”

“Oh hush. You know you’d be making googly eyes, too.”

“I am not making googly eyes.”

“Oh, honey, even a woman with cataracts couldn’t mistake that gleam,” Harriet assured her.

“Can we just play?”

“We can,” Mary muttered, gesturing to the other ladies at the table. “It’s you we’re worried about.”

“And just who brought our team such high scores in the last round when she picked up the pile?” Cat mused.

“Lucky,” Mary muttered.

“My foot,” Cat muttered. But Mary was right. She was holding at least one card in her hand that should have been laid out on their board. She was losing her focus.

 

 

 

Cat wasn’t sure when the idea took root. Perhaps it had been right at the very beginning. Birdie talking about Matt’s passion for woodworking; or perhaps it had been in the reluctant but nonetheless frenetic obsession he’d shown once he’d started on her cabinet door; or maybe it was in the squeal of excitement she’d heard in Amelia’s voice when she’d called her office that Tuesday afternoon.

“Oh my God, the man’s a genius,” Amelia cried upon hearing Cat’s professional, “Good afternoon, Fireside Credit Union Lending and Loans Department—”

At the words, Cat had felt her stomach drop. “Matt?” Just saying his name was enough to turn her stomach in a frenzy of anticipation.

“Of course, Matt.”

“The wardrobe?”

Amelia sighed. “I mean, I was blown away when I got the mock-ups on Sunday. The originality in those designs, I was breathless.”

“Probably not speechless, though,” Cat intoned.

“Never! But girl, I had a time just picking out which one I liked best. I wanted all of them,” Amelia continued, her voice picking up pace as her excitement grew. “And then, today, he asked me to stop by and get a look at what he’s done so far—just to make sure the concept is matching what I had in mind.”

“Which would be hard, since you never had anything in mind.”

“It was gorgeous, Cat,” Amelia continued, not paying her friend any notice. “I mean, the artwork, the detail. Oh my God—he’d only started on the top crest but, it floored me.”

“What were you expecting?” Cat asked. “Utter crap?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Amelia admitted. Through the phone, Cat could just make out the low sound of Amelia’s radio. “I mean, I thought they’d be good and all, but these…”

Cat leaned forward. “Yes?”

“He’s got a gift. You were right.” Amelia laughed. “I mean, I only agreed to this so that you could get closer to Matt but now…” she whistled off-pitch, “I’m reaping some serious rewards myself.”

“You did that for me?” Cat asked, slightly taken aback though she supposed that she shouldn’t have been. She supposed that she knew that. Still, hearing it was something…special.

“Well, of course. I got your back, girl.”

“And if he really had sucked at woodworking?”

Amelia was quiet for a moment. “I mean, I doubt it could have been much worse than what’s already there. And anyway, you had confidence in him. I trusted you.”

Cat felt a peculiar pull on her stomach, a tingling in her nose. Sniffing, she pressed the phone more tightly to her ear. “God, I love you.”

“’Bout time you admitted it.”

It definitely had something to do with the obvious love he couldn’t hope to disguise when it come to the few projects he begrudgingly took on, almost all of his free-time spent in the back of that warehouse, his attention so focused he’d simply forget everything else. When he’d taken her out on Wednesday, he’d stopped in to show her how far he’d come on the wardrobe. Standing beside him, she’d felt his swell of pride as his hand had swept out over the sawhorses displaying individual pieces that, when even while indistinguishable as a whole, Cat could see were fabulous. Walking forward, she’d let her finger run across the deep grooves and the swirls and whirls at the edges of the doors.

Looking up at Matt, she’d felt bereft of words. “These are beautiful.”

Staring down at the intricately carved doors, Matt hadn’t been able to disguise a smile. “Yeah, these were interesting to work…”

It was probably the longest she’d ever heard Matt speak at one given time. Staring raptly up at him as he explained some of the frustrations he’d encountered trying to line everything up, Cat had been mesmerized. She hadn’t understood most anything that he said, but she’d nodded mutely alongside him, taking a deep sort of pleasure in this unusual moment—where the usually taciturn Matthew McBoy couldn’t seem to shut up.

Because he loved what he was doing so much. Wednesday had been the only day he’d taken off, working on Amelia’s project.

“Well, don’t work yourself to the bone,” Cat had teased over dinner that evening. “Amelia meant what she said. She really doesn’t have a deadline.”

“Yeah, I know. I just…”

He didn’t need to finish that sentence. She knew what he just.

He just couldn’t help himself.

 

The post Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Eight appeared first on LitLiber.

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next morning, a little more hungover than she wanted to admit, Cat took herself into the bathroom. Over an hour later, she re-emerged. Her hair was styled artlessly around her face, her fingers mussing the roots for more volume as she entered her bedroom, a fluffy blue towel tied tightly across her body. She’d spent longer than usual on her makeup, as well. Her eyes held just the smallest hint of smoky edges, the contours a combination of a dusky pink, coral beige, and just a breath of brushed grey for dimension. It felt both subtle but polished. Likewise, a dusting of blush gave her cheeks a nice glow and complimented the nice splash of color on her lips.

Now it was time to pick out an outfit. Standing in front of her closet, Cat bit her bottom lip as her eyes ran through her inventory. Black skirt? No. That’d be too obvious. What about that olive-green romper? Again, Cat shook her head no, her lips puckering. Totally inappropriate for a workshop.

“I want to look hot but casual,” Cat said, her lips twisting as her eyes canvassed her options. “And probably no to anything that showcases my legs,” she admitted begrudgingly, her stubborn eyes staring at a pair of blue shorts that emphasized their shapeliness.

Sighing, she tapped a finger against her chin. “What about that washed blue shirt—the chambray one,” she muttered, her fingers slipping through the hangers as quickly as she was speaking. “Aha, there it is,” she said, plucking it free.

Holding it up for final inspection, she nodded. “Yup. This is perfect. It’s both feminine but loose-fitting,” she considered. Then, as if she’d only just heard her voice at that moment, Cat cringed. “God, you really do need a dog. This is getting pathetic, and more than a little embarrassing.”

Shrugging into the blouse, she nimbly buttoned up the front of the shirt. Snapping a pair of skinny jeans out of her bottom dresser drawer, she tugged them up and over her hips. Surveying the finished result in the mirror, her hands coming to play nervously with her hair again, Cat felt her stomach knot.

She looked good. If only her hands would stop sweating.

 

 

 

“Knock, knock,” Cat called out weakly, her voice echoing softly against the high walls. Poking her head inside the back door of the hardware store, she let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting as she sought out Matt’s tall silhouette.

“In here,” she heard from the direction of his workshop.

Opening the door wider, she walked inside. The heels of her short brown boots clipped pleasantly against the concrete flooring.

“Okay, boss,” she said, sidling up to the table saw that she sort of considered to be his office desk. Matt was sitting on an rounded barstool before it, staring down at a piece of drafting paper stretched out across the base, a pencil in his mouth as he glared down at the sheet of paper. Pulled up beside him was another chair—the seat of which was splashed with an advertisement for a local brewery. Tossing her purse absently, Cat plopped down on the stool.

There would hardly have been enough light in the warehouse if it hadn’t been for the short table lamp Matt had jimmied beside him—it looked like a relic from the eighties with its orangish-red color and coiled cord. It shone a yellow light down on the large scroll of paper laid out on the table.

“Is this it?” Cat asked a little breathlessly, leaning slightly forward for a better view of the sketch. She’d never thought to consider the amount of work that went into designing and building a piece of furniture. Unwillingly, a stab of guilt ate at her sides. She’d never considered what she’d been asking him to do—and all so that she’d have an excuse to see him again.

Amelia had been right, yesterday. It was time Cat stopped pretending what this was. At least, it was time she stopped pretending to herself.

Bending over the table, Cat whistled appreciatively. “Wow, you’re a beautiful drawer.”

Once the words had been spoken, Cat felt her nose crinkle. That was probably a stupid thing to say. Certainly, it sounded stupid to her ears. Shifting her gaze to Matt’s, she cringed at the sardonic expression playing over his face.

“Yeah, well, it sort of goes with the territory.”

“To be good with wood it’s only natural that someone is good with a pencil?” Cat wasn’t sure she was buying that.

Matt shrugged. “Well, maybe not natural, but like any muscle, the more you use it…”

Cat let it go. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in being complimented. Still, she was smart enough to know, and bad enough an artist to realize, he was deliberately downplaying his talent. “How long did this take?” She asked, nodding toward the blueprint.

Matt shrugged. “Not that long.”

Strumming her fingers against the tops of her thighs, Cat waited for Matt to expand on that. When he didn’t, his eyes instead going back to the drawing in front of him, his mouth frowning down at what he saw, she rolled her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a fantastic conversationalist?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, really Matt, we’re here to work and if you don’t shut up this very instant…” Cat continued, winking at him when he raised his head with slight impatience.

“Bored already?”

“Well,” Cat considered, dropping her eyes back down to the drawing. “I’m not sure what I’m looking at here, exactly? Care to explain what I’m supposed to be doing?”

Matt made a sound in his throat. Then his finger lifted, gesturing toward the picture. “I’m mapping a design concept for the closet. What are your thoughts?”

“Is it to size?” Cat asked inanely, turning her head this way and that. “And this is the top, correct?”

“I’d hardly be looking at it upside down, would I?”

Cat pursed her lips in a prissy fashion. “Well, I don’t suppose I’d know.”

“Yes, Cat, this is the top.”

She ran her finger over the detailing of the arched door, with its grooved lines. “It’s very…pretty.” Acknowledging that this was perhaps not all that helpful, she shrugged: “I mean, honestly, it looks almost, like, antique, with the scrolled lines and the layers in the wood.”

Matt squinted. “Is it too much?”

“No!” At the quick response, Cat only shook her head vehemently. “I love it. I mean…it looks beautiful. A conversation piece, really. Plus, it’s very feminine which Amelia will appreciate.”

“Do you think it looks big enough,” he asked, his hand sweeping toward the draw-in back wall of Amelia’s studio. “She sent me measurements of the studio this morning. This wardrobe is considerably longer than the piece that’s currently in there…”

Bending to the task, Cat considered the image. “I’m not sure…again, I think this would be a better question to ask Amelia.”

“You’re right. And I intend to, I’m only trying to gauge your response so that when I send the mock-ups to her, she’ll have a couple options to choose from.”

“And you think I’m the best person to ask?” Cat returned, lifting her head to look at him. For the first time since they’d met, Cat felt like perhaps she had the upper hand. The excuse was weak. If he wanted input, he’d ask someone who knew something about this kind of thing.

“I think this was your idea,” Matt said.

“Well, sure, but…”

“And I also think this is what you had in mind.”

“Being on the design team?”

“No,” Matt returned, his hand reaching up to turn Cat’s head toward him. “This,” he whispered, leaning forward until his lips brushed against hers. Feeling her stomach muscles jerk at the surprising speed of his movement, Cat’s lips trembled under the weight of his.

Pulling back just a hair, Matt’s brown, brown eyes looked into hers. “Or maybe I was wrong?”

“No,” Cat admitted, her breath coming in soft gasps. He was so close to her. Right there. Her hands went up to reach for the collar of his shirt. “No, you weren’t wrong.”

 

 

 

Lounging in her apartment later that evening, Cat’s stomach still knotted up in memory of that kiss. Throwing her pajama clad legs up on her coffee table, she let her eyes wonder down to her lap. They hadn’t managed to get in much more work on Amelia’s wardrobe that afternoon. In fact, as she recalled, by the time she’d left, the drafting paper had floated unnoticed to the floor.

What had started as a simple kiss of exploration had quickly ignited. Flooded with the newfound confidence that despite his sometimes-deadpan expression, Matt felt something for her too, Cat had sunk into their second kiss, her arms winding around his neck, her fingers playing with the short hairs at the base there.

Hearing his muffled groan, she’d slipped off the bar stool, her legs bringing her inside the space between his splayed legs. Letting one hand move from his neck to the side of his face, her fingers had pricked against the stubble of his unshaven face.

“God, Cat,” he’d groaned, and that’s when her feet had been lifted off the floor. In one smooth movement, Matt had stood up, his hands grabbing the backs of her upper thighs to twine her legs around his waist.

Moaning at the sensation—the rough feel of his jeans, the soft flannel of his shirt pressed tightly against her chest, Cat hadn’t stopped to think. She’d only opened her mouth wider, her lips melding against his own.

When he’d moved, she hadn’t thought to wonder where he was going, had only felt the cool material of Formica underneath her, the cool weight of the warm-water faucet nudging against her right side. It was only then that she’d realized he’d taken her to the makeshift countertop. Just as soon as the thought materialized, it was vanished, replaced by the sensations of his fingers on her waist, his hands slowly sliding up and down her ribcage.

“Cat?” he asked, his voice breaking into her mouth. Her name was traced with a question as he hands slowly, tantalizing moved just a little higher.

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. Arching her back, she answered: “Yes.”

That’s when she felt his fingers flick open first one and then another of the buttons on her shirt. When she felt the cool air of the warehouse settle over her shoulders, Cat forgot to notice anything else, her body blindly following his lead.

“Well, he’d been right about one thing,” Cat giggled to herself. “I definitely some sawdust on me.”

She’d been all but bared to the waist, the only remaining clothing her bra when Cat had felt Matt slowly break away from her clinging lips. Breathing heavily, Matt had leaned his forehead against hers, his mouth hovering temptingly just above hers.

 

“Matt?”

In response, a rueful smile just graced his lips. “Your dangerous.”

Glancing up at him, she smiled lazily. “You too.”

“Yeah—” Moving suddenly, Matt reached forward, his fingers clamping down against her waist. In one fluid motion, he hoisted her up off the counter and, stepping back, set her gently down on her feet once more. Then he let his hands go down to his sides. “That’s why I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Go?” Reaching blindly for her shirt, which he was now holding out for her, Cat tugged her arm in one sleeve. Then the other.

Matt watched her with patent amusement, and more than just a hint of desire. “Cat, I’m not about to seduce you in my warehouse.”

That had effectively slowed down her hurried pace. Pausing over a button, she’d lifted her eyes up to his. “But you do want to seduce me.”

When she didn’t seem interested anymore, Matt’s fingers quickly did up the rest of the buttons, his movements almost frenzied in their haste. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

She caught her breath, a gleam entering her eyes. “When?”

But Matt only laughed—it had been a big sound, a rough release of pent-up frustration. Leaning down, he placed his hands on either side of her upturned face, giving her a quick kiss. “How about dinner first?”

Staring up into his eyes, Cat nodded. The most contrary feelings bubbled for attention: regret and frustration that he’d ended things when he had, appreciation that he hadn’t let things go too far (and in a warehouse—really, at least the man had more sense than her); and pure and unadulterated excitement over his proposal.

He could have done anything he wanted to her two minutes ago. She’d not only have let him, she’d have eagerly helped him. But he hadn’t wanted to do that, not here. That had to mean something special.

“When?” She asked again, her voice a little husky, a little breathless with it.

“Tomorrow?”

“Do I really have to go?”

Matt let his gaze sweep over her disheveled appearance, her hair wild where his fingers had splayed into their depths. There was something so complimentary in the tautening of his features when he nodded in affirmative. “If I want to get any work done today.”

 

The post Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Seven appeared first on LitLiber.

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Six

Catching herself short on the thought, Cat had the grace to feel vaguely sick at the direction of her thoughts. Okay. Jealousy was one thing, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be entirely convinced that Amelia wasn’t, indeed, flirting with Matt, but letting that turn her against her friend, her friend, well that simply wasn’t acceptable.

Blushing at her baser feelings, Cat lowered her head, her eyes traveling down to her feet, which were crossed at the ankles, as she tried to swallow the delusional side of her that seemed to have taken over since the moment she’d walked into the hardware store.

“Cat? Ah, Cat?”

At the sound of Matt’s voice, she jerked her eyes up and into two pairs of amused faces. Amelia was biting back a smile. Matt was rising that infernal eyebrow again. Well, great.

“Fall asleep over there?” Amelia teased.

“Sorry.” Cat shrugged, but her eyes avoided Amelia’s playful gaze. “Zoning out a bit.”

“Woodworking isn’t really her thing,” Matt assured Amelia.

She giggled. “Color me surprised.”

“Oh, because you love it so much?” Cat snapped. She regretted the words immediately: for one thing, it sounded bitchy and for another, Amelia’s head flew back in hot reaction.

“Ah, okay,” Matt said, jumping into the fray of fissured silence. His voice was smooth in its redirection: “I think I’ve got everything I need tonight.” He tapped his pencil against the notepad in his hand. “I’ll, uh, I’ll draw up a quick sketch and email it to you in the next couple of days, and we’ll go from there.”

Amelia nodded slowly, but her eyes barely left Cat’s. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds good.” Holding out her hand, but a bit more stiffly this time, she smiled. “Again, thank you. I’m so grateful for this—and so excited.”

Matt took her hand. “Yeah,” he said, “no sweat.”

“Okay.” Pulling at the ends of her coat, Amelia made an odd movement. “Well, we should probably get going, huh?” Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and marched back down the long warehouse toward the door the store. Her shoulders were set a stiff, harsh angle.

Well, Cat didn’t care if Amelia was in a flying rage. Pushing herself off the table, she mumbled a quick goodbye to Matt, her chin tucked under the collar of her jacket: “See ya later.”

Only she wasn’t allowed to get very far.

“Whoa. Cat, wait up.”

“Can’t,” she called over her shoulder, hardly slowing down. “Amelia’s waiting for—oh!”

Swinging roughly back around by the sudden grip of his fingers against her wrist, Cat found herself staring up into Matt’s shadowed face. Towering over her, he stared down into her shocked countenance, his eyes falling to her slightly parted lips.

Then he smiled, his gaze flicking back up to her guarded eyes. It had a predatory fashion.

“Jealous, Cat?”

It was having it put out there like that, so blatant and clear. Opening her mouth in embarrassed surprise (because, even though she was well-aware that she had been jealous, she hadn’t expected him to call her out on it), Cat choked on her reply: “What? N-no, of course not.”

“Ah,” Matt said, clicking his tongue. “Try again.”

“Oh God, get over yourself,” Cat muttered, tugging at her arm. In response, he only tightened his hold.

“I should stop teasing you, I know,” Matt said, but whatever response Cat might have had to that blatant form of conceitedness, he forestalled her words when his head bent over hers, his mouth coming down to whisper over her trembling lips. Almost but not quite touching….  “But you make it so hard.” His lips just hovered over hers, tantalizingly close, his eyes narrowing on her misty gaze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cat said, but she was smiling in confession, her head tilting upward just a tick. She could almost feel the impression of his lips—just one breath away.

“Pouting in the corner,” he side, his fingers releasing her wrist to skim up her arms. There was no reason to hold her captive; she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” she sighed out on a jerk, her chest rising sharply in anticipation as the pads of his fingers just skimmed over her sensitive skin, making her stomach jump, lips just barely brushing over hers with the force of their words.

“Life’s a lot easier when you stop overthinking everything,” Matt assured her.

“So they say,” Cat agreed.

“Yeah, I’m getting the feeling that nothing is ever the easy way with you,” Matt said, the last words slightly muffled as he lowered his head the rest of the way, his lips swallowing her answer as they settled at first gently and then not-so-gently, against her mouth. At the first touch of his lips, Cat let her mouth fall open, welcoming the entrance of his tongue.

Languid, her head fell back at the thrust of his ministrations, her hands coming up to rest against his upper arms, her fingers playing against the bunched muscles coiled there, her legs tangling inside the length of his. Her senses were alive to the slight buzz of the fluorescent bulb overhead, her skin smothered by the soft cotton of his shirt, the scrap of his calloused fingers as he brought his hands upward to cup the sides of her face. She shivered.

“Matt…” she breathed when his teeth found her lips, nibbling against them.

“Yes?”

She moaned. “Kiss me.”

“’Atta girl,” he whispered back before his lips claimed hers again, swallowing the whimpered sigh of her satisfaction.

The minty taste of his mouth overwhelmed her, his lips forming to the contours of hers in a devouring kiss that knocked her breathless. Clutching at his shoulders with the last of her strength, Cat allowed herself to sink into the sensations as his hands moved to support her back, bringing her closer into the curve of his body.

“Cat? Cat, are you still back here…” At the sudden sound of Amelia’s voice, Cat felt the shattered return of reality. She hadn’t heard the back door reopen, but the echo of Amelia’s booted feet against cement floor was not be ignored.

“No,” she heard herself muttering as Matt lifted his head, his brown eyes dark as they stared down at her flushed face.

“Cat?” He mumbled, his hands still caressing her face, even as he set her away from him. “You okay?”

“Hmm?”

Matt chuckled, his hands still holding her by the shoulders. Her body swayed indolently in his arms. “You’re going to need to stand on your own.”

“Oh. Oh!” Laughing at little, Cat dropped her eyes down to the floor, letting her hair cover the vulnerability that was clearly stamped across her expression. “Yeah, I suppose…”

“Oh, thank God,” Amelia said, entering the back area of the warehouse. She laid a hand on her chest, her eyes wary as they connected with Cat. “I thought maybe you’d left me here.”

“No,” Cat said, her brain sluggish as she tried to think of something to add to that statement.

“I was asking Cat how the kitchen turned out,” Matt offered saving Cat when she remained monosyllabic.

Cat peeked up at him. A little of her hurt shone through. “A little late in the game to care, surely.”

Amelia pulled her lips into her mouth. Probably hiding mirth, Cat supposed.

“I figured it must have gone well,” Matt said, his gaze moving back to her. He shrugged. “Otherwise, I’d have known.”

Cat glowered, but she couldn’t deny the truth of those words. “It looks great. Better than before, actually.” Still, it hurt that he hadn’t actively cared. Then again, she was more than well-aware that her emotions were on high alert today.

“I’m not surprised,” Matt said. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glanced at Amelia. “I’ve never a met a woman who took the adage to return things to their owner in better condition than before they found them, more seriously than our Cat.”

Our Cat. She refused to read anything in that statement. Still, her body hummed at the quiet admission.

Amelia shook her head, her gaze also on Cat—and there was a hesitant, almost guilty expression on her face. “Yeah. I’m learning that.” Then her gaze switched between Cat’s still slightly flushed face to Matt’s knowing grin. “Well? Are we ready to go?”

“Yes. Yeah,” Cat said quickly, too quickly. She peeked up at Matt. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Yes. Thanks again,” Amelia called and once again, she took that as her cue. With little more than a game wave, she turned on her heel and started marching toward the door.

Cat hitched her thumb over one shoulder, “Well, I should probably follow after her this time.” But still, she waited.

Matt only nodded. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Turning on her heel, her disappointment hidden inside a plastic smile, Cat took a step forward.

“Oh, Cat?”

Pausing, she didn’t turn around, merely lobbing over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

Much as he’d known she would, at that Cat whirled to face him. “To-tomorrow?”

Matt smirked. “I’m going to work on the design for Amelia’s cabinet.”

“Okay?”

“Want to help?”

“Me?” Cat stuttered. “Shouldn’t you be asking Amelia that question?” She hated the very thought of that idea.

“I already have,” he said, “five minutes ago.” He gestured behind them toward the table saw. “That’s sort of what we were talking about.”

“Oh, right.”

His lips twitched, his arms uncrossing to dive into the front pockets of his jeans. “Besides, I got the impression she doesn’t really know what she wants.”

That was true enough. “Oh, well, yeah, I guess…”

“And isn’t that why you’re really here?” Matt asked, that hateful grin spreading across his face.

Cat drew in a breath. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, it was an excuse, all right,” Matt assured her.

Cat stared at him, bereft of words.

In response, Matt took a step closer. “I know a bluff when I hear one. The design concept Amelia described to me was nothing more than nonsense.”

“Well, she’s not a carpenter…”

Matt clearly wasn’t buying it. Worse, he’d obviously seen right through their subterfuge. “She really does need a new wardrobe,” Cat confessed, giving up the game.

Matt only inclined his head. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Cat didn’t even try to bite back her grin. “What time?”

“Eleven-ish.”

She nodded. “Anything I should bring with me?”

At the words, Matt’s face darkened, his gaze sweeping up and down her body, assessing, gauging. “Nothing you don’t mind getting some sawdust on.”

 

 

Walking through the hardware store, Cat hurried her steps. For one thing, she needed to escape from this place, to unpack some of what just happened with Matt. For another, she was aware that, for the second time in as many attempts, Amelia was undoubtedly standing outside beside Cat’s car, waiting. Though, to be fair, Cat wasn’t sure she cared too much about that.

Brushing through the front door of McBoy’s Hardware Store, Cat saw that she’d been correct. Huddled against the wind, Amelia was bouncing from foot to foot, her arms crossed warmly over her chest, beside Cat’s locked car.

“Sorry about that,” Cat said, her voice clipped as she hurried over. With a quick click of her finger, she unlocked both doors.

Amelia brushed her words aside. “No, that’s fine. It’s totally…” stalling out when she realized that Cat wasn’t listening to her, that, in fact, she hadn’t even waited for her to finish speaking before getting into the driver’s seat, Amelia swallowed the last of her words. Clamoring inside, she barely snapped her seatbelt in place when Cat was pulling off the curb.

“I’m sorry. Look, I’m so sorry,” Amelia said, throwing out her arms in surrender. Her soulful eyes looked at Cat’s stern expression. “I went too far. I see that now. Well, actually, I saw that inside the hardware store,” she muttered inanely.

“Went too far?” Cat asked despite herself, her gaze shifting quickly to Amelia’s contrite countenance. “What does that mean?”

“Flirting with Matt—”

“You were flirting with him then?” Cat cried incredulously, her hands thumping against the steering wheel. “What the hell, Amelia.”

“No, wait,” she pleaded. “Let me explain.”

“Explain? Explain what, how you were going to slide right in and throw your gorgeous face and rocking bod in his face, even though you knew…”

“Well, at least I got a reaction out of you.” Amelia wiggled her eyebrows.

“No, no. Don’t be cute,” Cat warned, throwing her left blinker on with enough force to break the switch.

“Fine,” Amelia returned, sinking into her seat. “But at least understand that I did it for you.”

Cat laughed. “For me?”

“Yes. From the moment we walked into the hardware store, you got all weird.”

“Oh, I did not,” Cat returned, slowing the car as they came upon Amelia’s street.

“Yes, you did. You were stilted and stiff and kind of…I don’t know, you acted like you didn’t even want to be there. You just stood by the door. And when you bothered to join the conversation, you were snappish.”

“Oh!”

“It’s true,” Amelia insisted, reaching out to lay a hand on Cat’s shoulder. “And so I thought, well…maybe a little competition…?” Amelia laughed gently. “Only, I guess I went too far.”

Cat felt her lips curl. “Really?”

“Oh, come on Cat, you really think I’d do something like that? Compete for the guy you like?”

Cat heard the hurt in Amelia’s voice. Guilt nipped at her sides. “No, I don’t think you’d do that. That’s why I was so surprised earlier…”

“Surprised? Try homicidal.”

“Oh, whatever.”

“I promise, I thought it’d help. I thought it’d force you to stop acting like—”

“Like a freak?”

Amelia shook her head. “You need to believe in your ability to attract members of the opposite sex.”

“That’s how I was acting?”

“Yeah, it was like you gave up before you even tried.”

“Oh.”

Amelia grinned. “Although…” she let her teeth raze over her bottom lip as Cat pulled up to the curb. “Then again, maybe it worked, after all?”

Cat narrowed her eyes. “Come again?”

“What kept you and Matt so long when I left you two alone?”

“Matt told you…”

“He told me a pack of lies.”

Cat blushed. Throwing the car in park as they approached Amelia’s studio, she kept her eyes resolutely ahead of her.

“Hey Cat.” Once again, Amelia let her hand reach out to touch Cat’s shoulder. It was considerably less tense then minutes ago. “Look, if you don’t hate me, there’s still a bottle of wine in inside…”

Turning her head, Cat reached up to cover her hand over Amelia’s. “I don’t hate you. I’m sorry, too. I acted like a jealous child.”

“It’s okay.”

“And,” Cat pursed her lips. “Your right. It did work.”

Amelia’s eyes rounded. “Do tell!”

Cat laughed delightedly. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she reached for the door handle. “Wine first.”

“Then spill.”

“Deal.”

 

 

The post Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Six appeared first on LitLiber.

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Five

It was a little past seven-thirty by the time Cat and Amelia walked into the hardware store. Though her stomach knotted unconsciously —perhaps he wouldn’t be there again?—they’d no sooner stepped through the doorway when they saw him standing at the front register, his hands quickly shuffling through receipts as he organized the daily cash count.

Lifting his head automatically at the sound of their approach, Matt’s instinctive look of mingled curiosity and welcome eclipsed at the site of Cat and Amelia. Smiling gamely, he leaned across the counter. Folding his arms, he leaned his weight against them. “All right,” he drawled. “What did you break this time?”

“Hardy har har,” Cat returned, her lips pulling up into a larger smile then the comment probably deserved.

“You must be Matt,” Amelia said, stepping forward then. Stretching out her slim hand, she smiled with warmth at the hunky man in front of her sporting a plain black shirt, baseball cap, and jeans. Somehow, the outfit, which would have looked plain on a less appealing man, suited his craggy features.

“Nice to meet you…?” With more charm than he’d ever displayed for her, Cat watched him reach out to shake her hand.

“Amelia Kelley.” Laughing softly, she tossed her long wealth of hair over one shoulder. Cat watched enviously as Matt’s eyes followed the effortless motion. “And I’m very much afraid that the reason we’re here has to do with me.”

“I see.” Dropping his hand back down to the counter, Matt switched his gaze back to Cat. Unlike Amelia, she was still standing beside the doorway. “But I’m guessing our Cat had something to do with it.”

Amelia laughed. It had a tinkling effect. “Something all right.”

Blowing out her breath, Cat realized that this was the opening she’d been needing. She should have been grateful to Amelia for steering the conversation so easily to this tact. Letting her gaze settle over her friend—one hip leaning up against the counter, her arms folded elegantly over her slightly-arched back—Cat couldn’t bring herself to be grateful for much at the moment.

“Yes, actually…” at her voice, Matt’s eyes turned back to her. “Well, see, the thing is…” Her lips mashed together as the words clogged in her throat.

Matt’s eyebrows rose amusedly. He nodded. “Spit it out.”

“Well…then don’t get mad.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. Standing upright again, he pursed his lips. “That’s hardly an inviting introduction.”

“I told you, you need to work on that,” Amelia said, turning her head toward Cat, too.

“Amelia is new to our town.”

“Welcome,” Matt said, glancing back down at Amelia. Immediately, Cat realized her mistake.

“And she just opened up a new photography studio.”

Matt nodded. Cat was pleased to see the indifference in his response. “Good for you.”

“But…but, well, she has this clunky old wardrobe that she uses for some of her equipment. But, well, you know how it is when you first start out. It’s very costly—”

Matt’s eyes zoomed back to Cat again. It was almost a relief, despite the overt suspicion staring back at her. “Yeah?”

“Well, she really needs a custom-made cabinet. Something that can hold all of her…stuff. See the current one doesn’t.” Her voice petered out. She wasn’t explaining this with much pomp and circumstance.

“Which means I have excess props currently cluttering my floor space,” Amelia admitted quietly. Cat couldn’t actually see her face, but she could almost hear the beseeching look in her large, almond-shaped eyes.

It was becoming clear to Cat that she should have left Amelia at the studio.

Matt’s lips twitched. “Well, I’ve got some great catalogs for custom woodworkers. I can grab them for you.”

“I saw what you did with Cat’s door.”

Matt stopped mid-motion. Cat’s eyes snapped wide at the words. It was a lie. Amelia hadn’t yet been able to see Cat’s newly-done kitchen.

Matt cleared his throat. “That was a one-time thing.”

“That’s a shame,” Amelia said, leaning forward. “It was beautiful craftsmanship.”

Matt made a sound in his throat. “Hardly.”

“Simple, elegant lines,” Amelia amended. Cat had to hand it to her, the woman could lie like a professional.

“Yeah, well, as I said to Cat, it was an easy design.”

“So is mine.” Another lie. On the drive over, Amelia had admitted to Cat she didn’t even know what she wanted in a wardrobe/closet. Standing a little back, watching them, Cat felt almost unnecessary.

Sure it had been her idea, but…

“I don’t know what Cat told you, but I don’t actually—”

“No, no, Cat was very clear about that. That you’d done her a special favor, that it wasn’t something you were interested in doing professionally. I was just hoping…” sighing a bit dramatically for Cat’s taste, Amelia stepped backward, a sign of clear defeat. She dropped her eyes for effect. “Well, it was worth asking, anyway. You really are very talented. And, as a photog, I have an eye for art.”

Matt’s eyes drifted toward Cat. “Laying it on thick, there,” he mused. “Wonder where she got that from?”

Cat’s cheeks felt stiff. “Oh, fooey.”

“Fooey?”

“Stand there and glower at me for all our worth,” Cat snapped, tilting her head at a royal angle. “But you liked working on my cabinet door. I know you did.” Thrusting a finger at his skepticism, she nodded. “I saw you. You were having fun.”

“So, this was actually your idea then,” Matt said, his fingers gesturing between the two of them.

Amelia grimaced.

Cat only stood up straighter. “Of course it was my idea!”

Matt shook his head. “I knew you and Birdie were spending too much time together.”

“Oh shove it, Matt. You know you love this kind of stuff.”

“I never denied that.”

“Actions over words, bud.”

“I’m not even sure what that means,” Matt assured her. Rounding the counter, he advanced slowly towards her.

Cat refused to back down. If she’d thought she’d look half as hot doing it, she’d have whipped her own head of hair over her shoulder. Instead, she smiled icily. “If you love it, then why say no?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Amelia looking at her—her head cocked a little confusedly to the side, her eyes wary.

Okay, sure. Cat was kind of being an ass. It probably wasn’t a recommended negotiating tactic—especially when you’re on the wrong side of the power exchange.

“For one thing, because I already have a full-time job. No, scratch that,” Matt said, taking another step towards her. “I own this place. Full-time hardly covers the eighty-odd hours that I work.”

Cat let out a weary breath. “I know, I know.”

“And I’ve already told you, I’m not a professional.”

“Amelia knows that. She’s still here—”

“Yeah, to commission a piece for her very professional business,” Matt returned.

“Oh, please,” Cat said because she couldn’t think of anything wittier to say at that moment. “You’re just looking for excuses now.”

“And as for your free time,” Amelia said, her voice piping in at last. Startled, Matt stopped to look back at her. “I don’t have any set deadline for completing this.” She smiled gamely, shrugging at his expression. “I already have one right now. It works for the interim. You could complete it on your time.”

“Aha!” Cat cried, mostly because she wanted Matt’s eyes back on her. Or more aptly, she just wanted them off of Amelia. Part of her hated the jealous pit that had opened in her stomach, chewing away at all the rational parts of her brain, which were assuring her that Amelia would never try to catch Matt’s eye, that she knew how Cat felt…but the insecure voice in her head kept noticing how Amelia’s eyes flirted with Matt, how her body seemed to be ever-leaning in his direction, catching the husky note of her laugh. Amelia had laughed an awful damn lot since walking into the hardware store.

Turning back to her, Matt raised his eyebrow.

“So, what’s stopping you now?”

With a sigh, Matt seemed about to admit defeat. Cat could see it in the clench of the muscles in his jaw. Angling his body back toward Amelia, he lifted his hands and then dropped them back down to his sides. “You have a design in mind?”

“Well, I’m sure I’d love your input on that,” she returned breezily.

“And if you hate the finished product?” he challenged her.

Cat’s eyelids flinched at the words. An eruption of irritation bite at her. Why was he always so damned concerned about that question? She knew him well enough to know that that was what really held him back.

“I sincerely doubt things will come to that,” Amelia assured him. “But if it does, I’ll buy it anyway.”

Matt nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” This came from Cat.

Matt shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Yeah, okay.”

“Well, hot damn.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said. Stepping forward, she held out her hand again. “Thank you! I really appreciate this.”

“Yeah, no sweat.”

Amelia pursed her lips. “If you say so.”

Taking his right hand out of his pocket, Matt flicked his eyes to the wristwatch he wore there. “Okay. Let me lock the doors and we can discuss some details.”

“Lock the…” Cat ate the words at Matt’s sarcastic look. Walking past her, he took out a key and turned the crash-bar on the door, locking customers out.

“We’re closed.”

“Right. Of course.”

“Listen,” Amelia said, shooting Cat a warning glance. “We don’t have to do this now. We never meant to keep you…”

Matt lifted an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from Amelia to Cat. “I was planning to do some paperwork, anyway. So it’s no bother.”

“Great,” Cat said, overriding Amelia’s obvious anxiety at the newfound situation. “Now is good for us, too.” With an empathic look, Cat silenced Amelia.

“Okay. Let’s go…” Sharing slightly bemused glances the women followed behind him to the back warehouse. Amelia’s fingernails clawed viciously into Cat’s arms. “We don’t have a design, Cat,” she hissed into her ear as they exited the front of the hardware store.

“Thank you, I’m well aware.”

“Matt’s going to back out if we bumble around like idiots.”

“Umm, when have we stopped doing that?” Cat returned. Prying Amelia’s fingers out of her skin, Cat smiled. “Listen, it’s all good. We’ll wing it.”

“You mean I’ll wing it?”

“What was that?” Half turning in their direction, Matt looked over at them.

Amelia. “Nothing!”

Cat. “Actually,” she sighed. “Amelia’s having a design meltdown over here.”

“I am not!”

“Changing your mind?” Matt’s voice was silky, carefully disguised to show no trace of emotion.

“Not about hiring you,” Amelia assured him. “I just, I want to make sure the design is perfect.” She pouted prettily up at him. “I’m one of those obnoxious people who can never make up their mind.”

Cat’s eyes narrowed. She had to give it to her. Amelia was good on her feet.

“That’s where we come in,” Cat said with an edge in her voice. Her eyes raked over Matt’s expression. It was unbelievable that he wouldn’t respond to beautiful, playful Amelia. In comparison, Cat felt like a wet blanket.

“Okay, tell me what you’re thinking,” Matt said, leading a curious Amelia and a scowling Cat into the back of the loading dock where his small woodworking space came to life. Going to lean up against the utility sink against the back wall, Cat crossed her arms over her chest, listening as Amelia obliged him, her voice quick and impulsive as she pretended to know a list of demands.

It was really a terrible thing she’d asked Amelia to do—and yet she didn’t feel particularly apologetic.

Narrowing her eyes, she watched as the other woman talked— her long, elegant fingers at once splaying wide and then shifting to show parallel lines, and then fluttering out to her sides with indecision and guile. Her full lips, a natural red color which Cat had never thought to envy before, were on full display: they pouted, smirked, and laughed up at Matthew’s absorbed face.

And he was absorbed. Standing beside his table saw, he was writing down keywords from Amelia’s description, his head nodding every now and then, his voice interrupting her occasionally for clarification purposes or to laugh at something particularly funny she’d said.

He chuckled a lot actually.

“…and I have a couple of large, bulky props,” Amelia was saying, worrying her lip with her perfect teeth. She glanced over at Cat. “About how large are those?”

Cat shrugged indifferently. She pretended not to notice Matt’s arched eyebrows at her response.

Amelia, however, hadn’t seemed to notice. Tapping a finger against her chin, she seemed to be settling into her wide-legged stance. Then her hands spread apart. “The block is about this wide and this tall…”

Cat zoned out again. This time, however, her eyes moved to Matt. With his ballcap pulled low over his eyes, she couldn’t quite gauge his expression. Standing just a little to one side of her, his attention was focused on Amelia.

Fucking Amelia.