Amber Laura's Blog, page 6

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Four

Probably, he was so grateful to be done with the whole thing that he’d all but written her off. After all, it wasn’t like he’d volunteered for the job…well, except at the end there, but she still debated his ultimate purpose in being there. Grimacing gently, her thoughts roamed—bits and pieces of memories filtering through her mind as she let herself into her lonely apartment:

The walls of her narrow hallway darkened as she sank into her reverie, her feet taking absently toward her livingroom—in her mind’s eye she was back in her kitchen, the cabinets once again resembling the faded, slightly chipped exterior of two weeks ago. In her hands was the splintered door that she’d just tried to screw back into place. Even now, she could remember the uncontrollable rage that had stolen over her body, how her hands had shaken, her eyes biting back tears as she stared down at the door. “No good, rotten piece of—!” with a vicious flick, she’d flung the door as hard as she could against her kitchen wall. It had connected with a resounding, satisfying thwack! When it fell, it landed in two fractured pieces on the floor.

And then, suddenly she was back in the McBoy’s Hardware Store. A shamelessly eavesdropping Birdie’s powder-fine hand coming to rest on Cat’s shoulder, as though the simple touch would offer a lifeline (and it had).  Turning her large blue-eyed gaze on Cat, the older woman’s frightfully pink painted lips smiled. “Matthew here actually does some wood-working. Perhaps he can look at your door….”

Cat smiled when she remembered the look on Matt’s face—the compressed lips and his eyes narrowing. His oft repeated motto: “…I’m not a professional.”

For some reason that thought reminded Cat of Amelia’s photography studio—and that impressively hideous wardrobe cabinet she’d bought. But almost as soon as the thought occurred to her it was overridden by another.

“This is good practice for him,” Birdie had assured Cat. “You’re good for him.”  

“And she’d been right,” Cat said aloud to herself. “He enjoyed custom-making my kitchen door.” She could still hear the confident sound of his voice when he’d called to tell her the door would be done.

“It’s good.”

“Do you think—?”

            “They’ll never suspect a thing.” There was a smile in his voice.

            Then it was Birdie again, leaning in close, like a co-conspirator, to confide this simple sentiment: “…despite his growling, he’s absolutely tickled to be working on this project…This business,” she’d said, waving toward the hardware store, “It’s not his dream.”

“What about that?” Cat had asked Amelia, her chin jutting toward the mammoth wardrobe snugged up against the back wall. She felt her lips twist. It looked like something straight out of the seventies…. “I’ve got to be honest. It’s hideous.”          

            “Matthew here actually does some wood-working…”

            The memories swirled frantically past her ears now, coming to her in no particular order:

            “You mean, you’ll make me a door?”

            “Yeah. I’ll make you a door.”

            “Pish-posh…He did my bathroom remodel last year.”

“It wasn’t exactly a difficult design.”

            Cat staring down at the finished kitchen door. “It’s an exact match. Perfect. No one will ever now.”

            “Still, I’ve got to be honest. The wardrobe is hideous.”

            “Holy shit.” With a snap, Cat felt herself pulled back to the present.  Dropping down onto her couch, Cat felt her eyes widen at unexpected thought—or had it really been all that unexpected, at all? Bringing her fingers up to the wooden armrest, she felt them drumming quickly, rapidly.

“It’s really none of my business,” she assured herself, her nails tap-taping in tempo. “I really shouldn’t meddle. It’ll probably come to nothing,” she continued, but the image of Birdie kept popping back into her mind:

“Matthew here actually does some wood-working. Perhaps he can look at your door….”

If it hadn’t been for her pushing, Cat would still be one door short. And Matt would have successfully continued to hide his amazing gift away, sight unseen from the world….

“Oh, hell.” Reaching for her phone before she could think herself out of the perfectly half-baked idea, Cat felt her fingers dialing. Pressing the phone up close to her ear, she heard her feet keeping time with her fingers: tap-tap-tapping as the phone rang once, twice.

“…Hello?”

“Amelia?”

“Girl, I owe you a bottle of wine for the impeccable timing of this phone call,” came the harassed response. In the background, Cat could just make out the sound of a high-pitch scream.

“New clients?”

“Mother-daughter photo. The daughter’s five and she missed her nap,” Amelia said. Her tone was dry, but Cat could hear the irritation lining the words.

“Oh—”

“And mom’s quite the perfectionist and indifferent to her child’s wailing ways. So, yup, this call was a much-needed break.”

Cat laughed. “Gotcha.” Her teeth nibbled on her lower lip. “Any chance I can collect on that bottle of wine tonight?”

“Uh. Sure.”

“Great.”

“My place or yours?”

“Yours.” Cat cleared her throat. “Actually, it’d probably be best if we met at your studio?”

There was a slight pause. “O-okay.”

“What time are you done?”

“Officially? Half an hour ago.”

Cat smiled. “So?”

“Be here by seven.”

“Got it.”

“…oh, but you’ll probably have to buy the wine. I’ll repay you once you’re here.”

“I’m so sure.”

“…Amelia? Amelia? We’re ready!”

“Ah, shit,” Amelia whispered. Cat couldn’t blame her. Even from over the phone, the woman’s voice was loud, pettish, and high-strung.

“Good luck,” Cat offered.

“I’ll need it.”

 

 

 

At seven o’clock exactly, Cat pulled open the darkened door of Amelia’s studio. Breathing a sigh of relief that Amelia had, in fact, finished her session, Cat walked into the back room. The lights were on in there, but the room was empty. Setting the bottles of wine down on the floor, Cat looked around. The mirrored wall gleamed from the beam of the overhead lights. Grinning impishly, Cat was somewhat surprised to see it was still there. The hardwood floors were covered here and there with oriental rugs, giving the room an unexpected warmth in the otherwise sterile settings. Smiling as she pivoted around the room, her curiosity to see what had changed distracting her momentarily, she smiled as her eyes lit on a scattering of props lined up neatly against the far wall—blocks and towers and pillars sat demurely beside that horrible, horrible looking wardrobe.

“Two bottles?” Amelia asked, the disembodied question shortly followed by its petite owner, entering from the front entrance.

“Oh, there you are,” Cat sat, turning in greeting. Her eyebrows lifted quizzically.

“Yeah. I’d had to pee for like forty minutes, but Mrs. Marsen was not to be kept waiting,” Amelia joked, pulling a face for comedic effect.

“Tough customer?”

Reaching for a thin grey sweater hanging on one of the rows of pegs against the wall between the main studio and front entrance, Amelia shrugged into it. “I’ll say. Still, she tipped well, especially considering the session went way over her time limit.”

Cat smiled absently. Running her hands up and down her jeans, she considered how to start. Her eyes flickered over to the mirrored wall and then, just as quickly, they dropped down to the floor.

“Shall I grab the glasses?” Amelia asked, already moving toward one of the two backend rooms, where she kept a few pieces of glassware.

“Umm, no.”

Stopping, Amelia turned to look at Cat. Cocking her head a little to one side, she smiled slowly. “No?”

“Not, not yet.”

“All right,” Amelia stated, placing both hands on her hips. “What’s going on?”

“Going on?” Cat cringed at the high octave of her voice. Clearing her throat, she shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Okay, okay.” Holding both of her hands up in surrender, Cat capitulated. “The thing is…I don’t want you to take this the wrong way or anything—” Now that she was here, Cat was having some serious reservations. Never mind how Matt would react, she didn’t want to offend her new friend.

“Conversations don’t tend to end well that begin that way,” Amelia confided to her, but she was still sporting the same easy grin. Brushing her long hair over her shoulder, she waited.

“Well, I was thinking about your wardrobe—”

That clearly knocked Amelia for a surprise. “My what?”

Pointing toward the bulky wooden structure, tucked away against the far wall, Cat shrugged. “Your wardrobe,” she reiterated. The top of her shoe toed against the polished wooden floor. “It’s an eyesore.”

“So you’ve said,” Amelia returned dryly.

“And you agreed,” Cat returned breathlessly. This was probably not the most tactful way to go about this conversation, but now that she’d started…well, now that she’d started she couldn’t seem to stop.

Amelia nodded. “And?”

“And?”

“Is that all you were thinking?”

“No, I just—” Cat shook her head. Her eyes moved toward it frantically, her gaze taking in the jumble of blocks and towers beside it. “I remember you said you used it for props.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, wouldn’t you rather have a custom-designed piece for the studio? You know, something that actually fit all your pieces, was specially designed for all your pieces, even the odd-shaped ones?” Cat’s hand flickered to the excess items leaning against the bulky structure. “And, you know, something that wasn’t hideously ugly?”

Amelia was silent for a moment, her large eyes taking in the thick furniture in question. Her lips pulled up a little. “You really have been thinking about this.”

Cat dug in a deep breath. “Yes, I have—”

“I think we need to get you laid.”

At the words, Cat sputtered to a close. “Wait. What?”

“You’ve been sitting at home, thinking about my wardrobe. My wardrobe, Cat. I think that says it all.”

“No, no…”

Snapping her fingers together, the sound reverberating off the walls, Amelia laughed. “Aha!”

“Aha?” Cat’s voice was weak, nervous.

“This is about getting you laid, isn’t it?”

“Would you stop saying that?” Flustered, Cat let her eyes shift away from Amelia’s penetrating gaze. Unfortunately, that meant looking into the mirrored wall beside them. The dusky rose settling, blooming, over her cheeks only further riled her.

“Oh come off it, you were on the verge of oh-so-innocently offering Matt up to the task, weren’t you?” But it was clear Amelia wasn’t expecting a response. She already knew the answer.

“You told me you wanted to get a new wardrobe.”

“Yeah. Maybe someday,” Amelia reminded her. “It’s far and away a low priority right now.”

Cat made a face. “But it’s godawful.”

Amelia only laughed, her lips splitting open to show her straight, white teeth. “True, true.”

“And it obviously doesn’t hold all of the equipment you have.”

Amelia nodded thoughtfully. “That’s also true. And convenient.”

“How so?”

“Because before walking in here, you didn’t know that.”

“Oh…well, still.”

“But let’s be clear at least—you weren’t thinking about my wardrobe. You were thinking about Matt.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I won’t agree to your little scheme until you say so,” Amelia sang.

Cat considered the words. Feeling her fingers tighten into little balls at her sides, she hitched up one shoulder defensively.

“Say it.”

“Fine! Okay, I was thinking about Matt. But I really do think he’d do wonders for the wardrobe.”

Amelia’s lips pulled down in thought. “And you think he’ll do it?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Groaning, Amelia eyed the wine. “So, you haven’t even asked him yet?”

“No, I thought I’d wait to make sure you were on board?”

“And if he says no?”

“Well,” Cat shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “It’s far and away a low priority for you right now, anyway.”

“Brat.”

“But you’ll consider it?”

“Depending on the price…” Amelia hedged, “yes, I’ll consider it.”

Clapping her hands together, Cat smiled. “Grab your coat.”

“My what?”

But Cat was already heading for the front door. “It’s still a bit chilly outside.”

“You’re going to ask him now?”

At the words, Cat stopped. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled sweetly. “No. We’re going to ask him now. Hurry up.”

“Oh, hell,” Amelia muttered, trailing after her. “I should have insisted on that bottle of wine.”

“We’ll have it in celebration.”

 

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Three

Of course, this was nothing compared to an hour later when Cat received a text message from Amelia, wondering what she was up to—beyond another eyebrow-raising grin from Ashley, who was secretly wondering just how much her friend had changed in the past few weeks, it was decided that, of course, Amelia should join them. If they were going to enjoy a girlfriends weekend, the more the merrier.

It was a damned comedy hour when all four of them sat down together.

“Oh my God, I’ve been dying to get a new business portrait taken,” Ashley had squealed upon first meeting Amelia.

“Well, I’m not technically set up yet, but I suppose I could be persuaded…”

“Bartender,” Ashley had cried playfully. “Get this girl another drink. On my tab!”

….

“Oh my God! You painted this?” Amelia had asked Alex, looking up from a picture on Alex’s phone of her most recent piece.

“Yeah.” It was the first time that Cat had ever seen the tall, blonde look…well, almost petite as she’d shrunk into her seat.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

“No, seriously,” putting the phone down, Amelia fixed Alex with her steady gaze. “I’ve been toying with the idea of matching some of my photos alongside some local artists work. I would love to see more…if you’re interested.”

“Bartender,” Alex had cried, winking at Ashley. “Get this girl another drink….”

….

“So how’d the door turn out?” Amelia asked, over a glass of wine. It was later in the evening, and the girls had moved from that first taproom to a small bar and grill to grab dinner.

Ashley made a face.

Alex made excited hand gestures.

Amelia only looked confused. “What’s happening here?”

“We’re not allowed to talk about Matt.”

“I didn’t say that—”

“You didn’t have to,” Ashley told her dryly.

“I knew it!” Pumping her fist in the air, Amelia giggled. “And you told me you guys were only kinda-not-really friends.”

“We are!”

“Oh God, we can’t go round and round on this again,” Ashley groaned. “I’m dizzy enough already.”

….

Opening the door to her apartment early the following morning, Cat quietly considered that it had been a good night, a great night. Throwing an arm around Ashley’s dangerously leaning figure, Cat steered her friend down the hallway and into her bedroom. Dumping her on the bed, Cat took herself into the bathroom to get changed.

Staring back at her hollowed-out expression, her mascara gunky and her eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion and over-indulgence, she grinned as she considered that tomorrow she’d pay for the afternoon of laughter and alcohol.

Shuffling off to her bed, she wasn’t surprised to see that Ashley was laying on top of covers, passed-out. Tugging her boots and jacket off, Cat just managed to get her under the covers before she joined her on the firm mattress.

Closing her eyes, she could already feel the first bite of nausea invading her senses.

Whatever. It had been worth it.

 

 

 

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with that?”

Grinning over at Alex, Cat shook her head determinedly. Leaning back against one of the kitchen chairs, her new friend looked quite the thing: her blonde hair was scraped ruthlessly back into a small ponytail, but there were speckles of white paint dotting her hairline—as to that, splatters of paint coated her thin, long fingers and drab sweatpants.

“What are you looking at?”

Cat whistled. “You look real fancy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex said teasingly. Her eyes traveled up and down Cat’s own tattered blue jeans, paired with a long-sleeved shirt showcasing a marathon Cat had not personally run in. “You’re looking pretty hot yourself, there.”

Bowing with a flourish, Cat waved in acknowledgment of this. Straightening up, she met Alex’s giggle with a smile.

“Seriously, though, thank you so much for helping me.”

“And to think, I practically had to twist your arm to get you to agree to it.”

Cat rolled her eyes. “I know, I know.” Turning a little, she let out a sigh as her eyes roamed through her kitchen. Semi-wet paint glinted off the fluorescent bulbs of the room, newspaper and rags scattered about over every available space, but finally…everything was the same color.

“Usually, it’s the other way around.”

“Rub it in.”

“You mean, how amazing I am?” Alex batted her eyes at Cat innocently. She even brought one hand up to her chest. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Beer and pizza?”

Alex grinned. “Now you’re talking my language.” With a frown, she glanced back at the floor, which still held the cabinet doors. She flicked her hand toward them. “Are you sure you don’t want help hanging them back up?”

“No, no. You’ve done more than enough.”

“I don’t mind…” Alex hedged.

But for some reason, Cat was reluctant to accept the offer. Perhaps it was because she’d already asked and taken too much from Alex’s generous offer to help. Maybe she was overly protective over the safety of the doors, having gone through what’s she’d been through. But probably, it was because she wanted to celebrate the conclusion of this project—what was once supposed to be an evening activity that had stretched through the weeks—by herself. To enjoy the euphoric feeling she knew would rush through her system when she screwed in the last hinge and took a step back…

“Nah. It’s super quick. And the paint won’t be dry tonight anyway,” Cat said, rushing to explain away her reluctance.

Taking this as a good enough reason, Alex said nothing more on the matter, instead settling down on Cat’s couch with her beer as the other woman phoned up the pizza parlor to place their order.

 

 

 

 

It was two days later, after having assured herself that the paint was good and dry now, that Cat set to work, picking up one door after another until at last, she was living the long-awaited reality of screwing the last door (not coincidentally, the one that Matt had had to resurrect) into place. Taking a careful step backward, her drill hanging absently in one hand, Cat surveyed the finished product.

Her kitchen looked like a kitchen again. The paint gleamed freshly under the lights, and though she knew it was probably just her imagination, Cat thought the new coat made the room look warmer, and also bigger.

Smiling at the compilation of every seeming change in her life of recent days, Cat waited for the rush of satisfaction, the onslaught of pure, unadulterated excitement at the realization that all the hiccups had been taken care of there, there was nothing else to worry about going wrong, no anxieties of the unknown. She was done.

She was done.

No missing doors, no wet paint, no hiccups or detours. Letting her eyes roam over the gleaming cabinet doors, marching across her cupboards in straight lines, their hinges secured and polished, she waited. It was done. The culmination of weeks, of new gray hairs, of stress eating, but finally, it was done. There was nothing else to worry about, nothing else to go wrong.

Cat frowned. Then she scolded herself. “What in the world is wrong with you? This is what you wanted,” she cried, swinging her arms out wide, taking in the room at large.

It was a silly question, though, since she was well aware of the answer. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to admit it to herself.

Her kitchen was in perfect order. Nothing more needed to be done.

Which meant she had no more business at the McBoy Hardware Store. Which meant that she had no more reason to see Matt.

“That’s not true,” she assured herself, her eyes moving frenzied toward the neatly stacked drop cloths and paintbrushes sitting on the kitchen table. “You’ve got to return those.”

A small smile just ticked at the edge of her mouth.

Which turned out to be a bust. Gaining entrance to the hardware store later that evening, her lips a startling, shimmery shade of coral, her hair carefully piled in a messy bun, and her arms inside a light blue-jean jacket, Cat came face-to-face with an employee she’d never met before.

His nametag said Kyle.

It had never occurred to Cat that he wouldn’t be there. Which sounded stupid when she thought about it, only…only he’d always been there. Swallowing past the urge to turn and leave—paintbrushes still and hand—and simply return another day, Cat walked forward to the cashier. That would have been too obvious. Too desperate.

With a tight smile, she’d handed the equipment over to the young clerk behind the counter. “Please, give these to Matt. He lent them to me for a project…”

The young man nodded and with little more interest than a professional smile, he’d asked her if there was anything else?

Still, hope had prevailed. She’d figured that he’d call her, text her at least—for what reason, she wasn’t sure. To see how it had all turned out? But her phone had remained stubbornly silent.

“This is silly,” she repeated to herself.

Damn Matt.

 

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-Two

An hour later, over a frosty pale ale, Cat regaled Ashley with the woes of her kitchen cabinet reno. True to her status as Cat’s best friend, Ashley presented herself as being equal parts interested and entertained by the rollercoaster of events that had followed.

“So you decided to repaint the entire kitchen?”

Cat made a face into her beer. “Yeah, that was pretty much Matt’s reaction, too.”

Ashley pursed her lips. “Matt again?”

“Excuse me?” But even Cat wasn’t fooled by the innocent question. He’d played a pretty prominent role in her story. Perhaps too prominent.

“His name has popped up with unparalleled popularity this afternoon.”

“Well,” Cat reminded her, trying to tone down the instinctive defensiveness that loaded her words, “he is kind of a big part of it all.”

“But he didn’t need to be.”

“Well…”

Reaching over, Ashley covered Cat’s hand on the high-top table. “Not today. He didn’t need to be there to help you paint.”

Cat lifted one shoulder uncomfortably. “I mean, no…”

“I’m not making fun of you,” Ashley insisted. “Clearly, it was his choice to be there.”

“I think he just didn’t want to me fuck anything up.”

“Could be,” she said, hiding behind her pint glass as she brought it to her lips. “But unlikely.”

“Ashley don’t.”

“What?” Ashley placed her glass back down on her coaster. “Now you’re telling me you’re not interested? Because that wasn’t the case an hour earlier…”

Cat swirled her glass on the table, her fingers feeling the wet condescension on the side of the glass. “No, I’m interested.”

“Okay.”

“But he’s never…” choosing her words quickly, forcing her face to remain neutral, Cat plowed ahead. “Sometimes he seems so indifferent when we’re together. Like I’m just this mildly amusing but irritating girl he’s helping out—and just to appease his grandmother, no less. Like it’s just a kindness he’d do for anyone in a similar situation.”

Ashley’s smile faltered a little. “I see.”

“And then, every now and then he’ll say something that’s just playful enough that I wonder…” Cat flicked her gaze over the bar absently.

“If he’s flirting?”

“And if he is, how serious it is.”

“I see.”

“I can’t quite read his expressions.”

Ashley leaned back against the ladder-back chair. She crossed her arms over the table, her gaze narrowing. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Cat said, blowing out a breath. “So I don’t want to get any more confused about the situation.”

“You don’t want to get your hopes up.”

Cat nodded in consideration. “That either.”

Ashley was silent.

“I think he knows how I feel though.” The words felt sticky leaving Cat’s mouth. She didn’t like admitting to their probability, but neither could she convince herself otherwise.

Ashley opened her mouth in instant denial, but on second thought: “You’ve never been very good at hiding your thoughts.”

“Nope.”

“Hey,” Ashley said, leaning forward, her eyes staring into Cat’s. “That’s a good thing.”

“Sometimes he looks at me like I’m just a customer. And then…sometimes, like I’m someone special. But then I wonder if that’s just wishful thinking, you know?”

“Yeah, I do—”

“Hey Cat.”

At the sound, Ashley paused. Turning at the sound, both women were surprised by the toothy grin of an unusually tall, blonde woman standing in front of their table. In the midst of their conversation that hadn’t heard her approach.

“Alex!”

“Alex?”

“Hi,” Alex said, turning to introduce herself to Ashley’s clearly confused expression.

“Hello.” Turning to speak sidelong at Cat, she wondered: “How long have I been gone? Years? Why don’t I know anyone here anymore?”

Not taking offense, Alex grinned wider. “If it helps, I’m not from around here.”

“Please excuse my friend,” Cat said, shooting Ashley a scathing look.

Ashley had the grace to blush. “Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude…”

Alex waved her hand. “Nah. I moved here about a year ago with my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.”

Cat nodded sympathetically.

“We moved here when his job transferred him to the local branch.” Alex made a face. “But, you know, I really like it here. This place has character.”

“Which is good for the artist’s soul,” Cat said.

Alex snapped her fingers together. “Exactly. So the bastard can walk out the door. I’m staying.”

“Good girl.”

Laughing breezily, Alex glanced between the girls. “Well, excuse me. I just wanted to stop and say hi…”

“Please,” said Ashley, her hands going to the empty chair. “Join us.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, okay. Let me just go and grab myself a drink…” and with that, the blonde had skipped off toward the waiting bartender.

Taking the moment of reprieve, Ashley lowered her voice as she leaned toward Cat. “Who’s that?”

“Alex. She lives in my building. You’ll like her. She’s nice.”

“I’m sure I will,” Ashley said, but her voice held a funny note. Her gaze leveled on her friend. “I thought you didn’t have any friends here, anymore?” There was no accusation in the words, only awed curiosity. Clearly, that statement was no longer true.

“Is that why you came home?”

“Of course.”

Cat grabbed Ashley’s hands. “You’re the best.”

“Obviously. Stop evading my question.”

Cat smiled. “I didn’t have friends. At least, not a couple of weeks ago.”

“What changed.”

“Honestly? I think it was that damned kitchen door.”

Ashley grinned. “You think?”

Cat shrugged. “I don’t know. It forced me out of the house.”

“What, were you a hermit?” Ashley teased her.

“No, no. But it was like…I never went anywhere new, anywhere out of my comfort zone.”

“Okay,” Ashley conceded, and this time there was no teasing in her voice.

“Walking into that hardware store…” Cat couldn’t quite meet Ashley’s eyes. “Well, it sounds kind of dramatic but it—”

“I don’t think that sounds dramatic.”

Cat’s wary eyes swung back to her friend. “You don’t?”

“I’ve been home for a little over an hour and I’ve already met two people you didn’t know a week ago.”

“And you haven’t even heard about my canasta team.”

Ashley sputtered over her drink of beer. “Your what?”

Coming back up to the table, Alex set a margarita on the table top. “So what are you girls up to today?”

“Girls weekend,” Cat said.

“Oh, how fun!”

“I surprised her,” Ashley inserted with an almost apologetic tone. “And, you know, I really am sorry that I didn’t tell you I was coming now.”

“What? Why?” But Cat had a feeling she knew what Ashley meant.

“I think I may have scared Matt away.”

“Matt?” Turning her attention on Cat, Alex lifted her eyebrows curiously. “How’s this?”

“Just a guy.”

“Hardly.” At Alex’s frank confusion, she added: “He’s gorgeous. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark complexion, if you catch my drift.”

“Ohh, tell me more.”

“He was just helping me paint some cupboards in my apartment. Nothing to it.”

“Painting?”

“Yeah. Well, he thought I’d strike disaster if left with a paintbrush and no supervision,” Cat muttered, picking up her beer. Letting her eyes gaze across the room—dim-lighting with scattered round top tables beside a long intricately designed wooden bar (replete with a mirror-back), and a few Saturday afternoon drinkers and families, Cat refused to meet her friends’ eyes. Focusing on the aesthetics, she forced herself not to show her mounting excitement at Matt’s continued presence in their conversation.

Matt.

Her body reacted just at the mention of his name.

Against her will, her eyes slid rebelliously over to her best friend as a fissure of unease settled over her shoulders. She hadn’t told Ashley about the kiss. Guilt nagged at her stomach. She told Ashley everything. That was part of the best friend code. And she knew she would tell her…eventually. Only, despite the yearning to spill, to relive again those unexpected moments in Matt’s arms, to feel again the touch of his fingers against her chin—for the moment, Cat didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to analyze it for meaning and purpose. She didn’t want to defend her feelings or wonder over his.

Just not yet.

“And then I showed up while they were the in middle of things,” Ashley said, finishing the story where Cat stalled out. She lifted her hands. “So now half her kitchen is sporting fresh paint.”

“He pull the skedaddle at the sight of you?”

Ashley raised her eyebrows incredulously at the word, but she nodded in a serious enough fashion. “That’s about the size of it.”

Alex elbowed Cat playfully, the action effectively bringing her back into the conversation. “That doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

Cat smiled tightly.

“Sounds like a man who needed some fresh air.”

“Paint fumes?”

“Sexual tension,” Alex returned.

“Oh enough guys,” Cat insisted. At the slight edge in that statement, both women were quick to wipe the teasing grins off their faces. Straightening up in her chair, Ashley crossed her arms over the table top.

Alex merely switched tracts. “Does this have anything to do with your search in the basement storage the other day?”

“Basement storage?” This came from Ashley.

“Long story.”

“You’re racking up a lot of those lately,” Ashley said, and Cat thought she heard the slightest tenure of displeasure in her friend’s voice.

“It’s how we met,” Cat explained, pointing at Alex. “I was looking for some leftover paint to, well you know, paint the kitchen.”

“Ah.”

“I was looking for paint, too,” Alex said. She chuckled, “but a different kind.”

“For different reasons.”

At the words, Alex furrowed her brows. “Wait. So, you and Matt weren’t able to finish painting?”

“Nah,” Cat said, flipping her hand casually. “But there’s not actually that much left to do.”

Ashley seemed ready to disagree with that statement.

“Want some help?”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Cat was quick to say.

“But she could ask Matt?” Ashley sidelined to Alex.

Alex winked back at her. “Definitely not nothing.”

“Okay,” Cat cried, throwing her arms up. “I would love the help. That would be great. Fabulous.”

Alex grinned slowly, rubbing her hands together. “Great.”

“It’s hardly worth that level of excitement,” Cat assured her.

Alex shrugged. “Painting is painting.”

“I’m not so sure…”

“Plus, I’ve still got a bit of residual resentment leftover from my ex,” Alex said. “What better way to exercise some of that rage—brush stroke up, brush stroke down. Oh, I’m already feeling the cathartic effects.”

“And she won’t have to worry about ruining a perfectly good piece of canvas,” Ashley said.

“It was a mistake,” Cat realized, her finger pointing between Ashley and Alex, “letting the two of you meet.”

 

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty-One

“The intercom,” Cat realized, her voice coming out in a croak of surprise. Through the haze of her confusion—from both the kiss and the sound of Ashley’s voice—she fought for composure. Bracing a hand against the wall, she took a moment to steady herself, to lower her breathing, before moving. Her legs felt like jelly as she deftly skipped past the doors littered on the floor, her hands reaching for the backs of her chairs as she skirted by them.

She wasn’t sure if she was running away from Matt or running toward Ashley.

She just knew she needed to move.

The intercom sounded again. “Cat? Are you there?”

“Coming,” Cat called uselessly, her legs picking up the pace as she edged the corner of her hallway toward her front door. Reaching her destination, her fingers flew to the keypad. Pressing down against the ANSWER button, she forced a note of coolness to her voice.

“Hey! Ashley?”

“Thank you! You are home.”

“Yeah, sorry—”

“Explain later. Let me in,” Her friend complained good-naturedly. “It’s cold out here.”

Biting her lip, Cat cast a worried look behind her. From there she couldn’t see Matt’s expression, though she knew he’d heard Ashley’s request. But what else could she do? With a resignation she’d never encountered before, Cat admitted her best friend into the building. Unlocking the door, she turned numbly to head back down the hallway. She’d better at least warn him…

Walking back into the kitchen, she saw that Matt had, indeed, heard Ashley. Packing up his toolbelt—which was now off his waist, he glanced up from the kitchen table at her entrance.

“I’m sorry,” Cat said, unsure of what else to say. She shrugged eloquently. “I-I didn’t know she was coming. I can, uh, I’ll get her set up in the living room while we finish—”

“No sweat,” Matt assured her, tossing his toolbelt easily over one shoulder. “I should probably get going anyway.” His hand hesitated over some of the paintbrushes. “I’ll leave this here for you, huh?”

Cat blinked at his swift response. Nodding absently, she felt her throat bob with the action. “Oh, okay. Yeah, that-that’s…well, thank you. For everything.” She flicked a hand toward the paint brushes. “And I’ll, uh, I’ll take good care of them.”

Matt grunted noncommittally.

She nodded, unsure what else to say. Was he planning to come back tomorrow and help her finish this off? Part of her desperately wanted him too, even while the other half shied away from imposing on his free time any longer. Her legs still felt shaky, and her voice was only just now returning to a normal setting. With a glance, she took in the shambles that was her kitchen.       Grimacing, she gestured toward the cabinet doors. “Truly, I can’t thank you enough for today.” She laughed, running a hand through her loosened ponytail. At the gesture, she wondered what her hair looked like now—mussed hair wasn’t usually ideal in an up-do.  “We got a lot done.”

Following her words, Matt nodded. “Yeah.” He looked at the doors on the floor. “I’d leave them there for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Okay.” Cat took in the littered space.

“And I didn’t get to these two over here,” Matt said, pointing at the two doors closest to the table.

In response, Cat reached down and picked them up. “I better put them on the table,” Cat said at his furrowed brows. “Otherwise…”

Matt’s lips twitched just a little bit. “Yeah,” he said slowly, knowingly. “Otherwise.”

A new set of footsteps coming from the door announced Ashely’s arrival. “Oh my God,” she cried out, “can I just tell you how crazy my week has—oh!” Stuttering to a stop, her voice petered out as the tall, leggy brunette followed shortly behind the sound of her voice—Cat wasn’t sure if it was Matt or the disaster zone that had once been her kitchen, but her best friend’s large hazel eyes rounded as she entered the kitchen.

“Uh, hello?” She ventured, swinging her inquiring gaze on Matt’s gentle amusement.

Stepping forward, he held out a hand. “Matt McBoy.”

“From the hardware store?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “You know it?”

Ashley smiled. “Well, I can’t say that I ever frequented the place much but…my dad is definitely a repeat customer.”

Matt grinned. Shaking her hand, he brought his gaze back around to Cat—who was now holding the cabinet doors up against her chest as though they were a shield.

“And clearly, I’m interrupting something,” Ashley realized, her front teeth coming to bite down against her bottom lip. “Well, shit. I guess a surprise visit wasn’t such a good idea…”

“No, no,” Matt assured her. “It was good timing, actually.”

Ashley raised disbelieving eyes.

“I actually have someplace I need to be,” Matt said evasively. With a dry glance, he took in Cat’s stiff posture. “In fact, I almost completely lost track of time.”

At the words, Cat seemed to snap out of her reverie. Smearing a smile on her face, she hugged the doors to her chest more tightly. “Ah—yes, well, thank you. A-again.”

He didn’t respond to her directly. Then again, he never did when it came to accepting her appreciation. “I’m sorry to leave you with this mess.”

“Oh, please. It’s nothing.” Cat waited for half a beat. Waited for him to say something.

“Okay,” Matt said, scratching his chin. “Well…try not to paint the walls when I go.”

Cat smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

Matt nodded toward the paintbrushes. “Keep those as long as you need.”

So, he wasn’t coming back. Cat swallowed carefully. It was what she wanted, anyway. It would have been hardly appropriate to expect him to give up his entire weekend. She would have outright refused. She frowned.

“Okay.” There was a stiltedness in the conversation now. She shrugged. “But I think I can knock out the last of this tomorrow, anyway, so…”

For a split second, she let one last hope enter into her voice.

But she was doomed again.

Matt nodded. “Sounds good.” Turning then to Ashley’s unabashed curiosity, he nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes, you too.”

“Cat.”

“Matt,” she returned dryly, watching bemusedly as he turned and walked out of the kitchen, the fall of his feet echoing slightly as he beat a retreat back down her hallway and out her door…

Ashley had the decency to wait until he was completely out of her apartment, the sound of the door closing behind him, before she turned her large hazel eyes on her best friend. Her full lips split into a large smile. “Okay. Spill!”

Cat rolled her eyes. Setting the doors down on the kitchen table, and then trying to unobtrusively run her sweaty palms down the sides of her pants, she refused to meet her friend’s penetrating gaze.

To keep herself focused, Cat brought the brushes to the sink and began to clean them out.

“Seriously. Who the hell was that gorgeous man?”

“Oh, enough.”

Ashley laughed. “Try saying that without blushing.”

“Oh,” With a snap of the brush against the edge of the sink, Cat dropped the act. Setting the dripping brush down on an old rag, Cat spun back around. Ashley was leaning over the back of a kitchen chair, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “God, isn’t he something?”

“I’m still trying to get my heartrate under control.”

Cat wagged a finger at her friend. “Hands off.”

Ashley held up both hands, laughing delightedly. “Ohh, you really like him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ready to bust your best friends nose for just looking at him.”

Cat rolled her eyes again. Then, as her amusement ebbed, she took herself across the kitchen. “By the way, get over here,” she commanded, holding out her arms as she reached the table. Grabbing Ashley around her shoulders, Cat brought her in for a hug. “Hi!”

“Oh, hi!” Ashley returned, throwing her arms around Cat tight. “I truly am sorry if I interrupted something…”

“Seeing you is worth it,” Cat lied.

“I sincerely doubt it, but thanks for saying that.” Breaking away from her friend, Ashley nodded toward the kitchen. “So—want to explain what’s going on here?”

Cat looked back behind her, sighing with exhaustion. Now that Matt was gone, she realized how tired she was with the whole thing. Glancing back at Ashley, she rubbed the side of her neck. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, I hear that Cranky’s Bar serves beer at this hour.”

“Let me get my coat.”

“’Atta girl.”

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twenty

Twirling back around, she focused on the last cupboard frame on that wall. Swirling her brush in the cup of paint, she heard the bubbles blobbing around the brush. Swish, swish—she thinned the excess paint off the brush. The melodic stroke of the brush against the grain of the cupboard filled her ears—making her almost want to scream.

“When did you realize you liked doing woodwork?”

There was an exaggerated sigh from down below. “I don’t know.”

“Just found yourself building a chair one morning?”

“What?” Cranking his head upward, Matt frowned at Cat’s coy expression. “No, of course not.”

“Then?”

“My grandfather. He showed me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

Grinding her teeth together, Cat took her brush away from the door. It gleamed back at her wetly. Descending the small step-ladder, she got to her feet.

“I would have loved that.”

“Huh?”

“Someone to show me how to do things like this.”

Matt grunted in response.

“It must have been nice.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Clearly, it’s more than that. You still do it. And you’re amazing at it.”

Matt sighed again, his eyes not even bothering to lift to her gaze anymore.

Still, Cat tried. It was just too weird, the silence. She and Matt hardly even knew one another. To not speak, let him sit there and help her paint her apartment in silence…it was just too weird. Plus…well, never mind the plus.

“You know what?”

Matt made a sound low in his throat. “What?”

Cat heard the impatience loaded in that word. Steeling herself against an unreasonable hurt at the tone of voice, she jerked her head back to the wall. “Never mind.”

And, following her request, Matt didn’t seem to mind—hadn’t seemed to hear the petulant quality of her voice. And having been an only child, Cat was well aware that she had a pretty good pout (though, it wasn’t something she was typically proud of admitting).

“No, actually.” With a silent stomp of her stockinged foot, Cat stuck both hands on her hips, the one holding the paintbrush jutting out awkwardly to the side. “I mean, I just done get it, Matt.”

“Get what?”

“Why are you here? I mean, we hardly no each other, and it’s clearly not because of the company,” she added dryly. “You say it’s not because of Birdie, so what gives?” She frowned, her arms moving now, gesturing with the words. “You don’t seem all the that to be here and—!” Cat hadn’t seen Matt move until he was suddenly standing in front of her, the paintbrush she’d been holding seconds earlier now firmly in his hand.

Eyes wide, she never finished that sentence.

“Keep this us,” he said, holding the painting tool up to her face, “and it won’t just be kitchen cabinets we’ll be painting today.” With a pointed look at the wall behind her, which even she could admit was dangerously close to the paint brush she’d been wielding in her hand, he let that sink in.

Cat felt her face flame. She hadn’t realized…

“Paint gets everywhere, Cat.” This was said gently, the recrimination almost soft.

“I know.”

“This,” he said meaningfully, holding the brush up before her face, “is why I’m here, since you seem to curious to now.” A slight smile crooked at the edges of her lips.

Cat’s lips thinned. “I see.” Nodding, she truly did see then.

“How’s that?” He mused, both thick eyebrows raising at the prissy response.

“Sacrifice one weekend for the greater good?” Laughing to cover her mortification, Cat pursed her lips. “What’s one Saturday if it means I won’t be tromping in and out of your store over and over again trailing broken household items in my wake.”

“Oh hell,” Matt muttered, clearly seeing through her humor. “That wasn’t what I meant—”

“Of course, it was,” Cat said, her voice conversational. “I’ve done everything wrong up to now. Come on, we both know that.”

“Well,” Matt conceded, but with a smile: “you do kind of excel at doing things in the most complicated way possible.”

Cat grinned but her eyes gave her away. Dropping down at her feet, they lost some of their luster. A few splatters of paint dotted the tops of her shoes. With a flick of her hand, she gestured toward the wall. She let out a strangled laugh. “Well, thanks for saving me from my hysterical ways.”

Peeking upward, she caught Matt’s frowning response. “Hey, that’s not—”

“No, no, you’re right,” she said earnestly, forcing her eyes back up to his. Her voice abandoned its cheap caricature of humor. “I should have asked you that first day about the hinge. But I was too embarrassed. And then, when I busted the door, I let Birdie talk you into helping me. And now today? What the hell was I thinking—oh!”

In a flash, Matt moved. Thrusting the paintbrush in his back pocket, his hands moved with an economy of motion: coming up to cup the sides of her face at the same moment that his head dipped low, his lips pushing down against her own.

For the second time in as many seconds, Cat wasn’t allowed to finish her thoughts.

She didn’t mind.

Feeling the wall crash up at her back with the force of the sudden movement, Cat caught her breath. That would be her last coherent thought, however, when his hands slid from her jawline down to her throat, his fingers caressing the skin there before traveling lower—over her shoulders and down her sides to her waist, her body reacting visibly to every skimming touch. Contracting at her hips, his hands brought her impossibly closer as his mouth ravished her opening lips.

Blindly, Cat lifted her arms, throwing them around his shoulders as she sank into the sensations flooding through that kiss, her lips answering the heat and longing of his embrace, her mouth shaking as his tongue penetrated the darkness there, lashing against her teeth, parrying with her own.

“Oh God,” Matt muttered, drawing back just far enough to stare down at her misty expression. Gone was the frustration of the moment before, the stark irritation that had led them to this moment.

Cat couldn’t form words. She was still trying to process what had just happened. Her breasts were crushed up against his chest, her legs tangled with his as she leaned between his solid frame and the wall behind her.

“I lied,” he breathed down into her parted mouth. His eyes were staring down at the contours of her lips.

“What?” she breathed.

“This is why I came.”

Unconsciously, she licked her lower lip, delighting in his reaction—his brown eyes focusing on the movement. “Oh.” Then she tilted her head just the tiniest bit. “What took you so long?”

He smiled just slightly, his head bending closer to hers again…but not quite close enough. “I was waiting on you.”

“Me?”

“You’re surprisingly hard to read.”

“I am?” She could keep the incredulity out of her tone.

Instead of answering her, Matt let his mouth lower the rest of the way, the action sending shivers across her skin. His lips nibbled against hers. “Yeah, you are.” Then he was kissing her, again. With a breathless sort of wonder, she followed his movements, their lips clinging hotly to one another, his head shifting, her lips twisting as his hands moved to her back, arching her into his embrace—

. “Hello? Cat? Are you home?”

The static echo of a disembodied voice boomed suddenly throughout the otherwise silent apartment. Jerking apart at the sound, Cat stumbled against the drop cloth at her feet at the same moment Matt whipped around, his hands running unconsciously through his disheveled hair. His eyes roamed the room. There was no one there.

 

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Nineteen

Then he dropped her hand. In response, she felt her own arm fall limply back down at her side. She stared vaguely ahead, at the blue tape. It offered little comfort to her outrageous heartbeat. Her throat shook with the force of her feelings. She wasn’t sure what was happening. She didn’t feel prepared. Hell, she didn’t feel like she was even in his league. Stealing a sideways glance at his profile, however, forced her out of her reverie.

Matt looked much the same as usual. Not an ounce of expression marred his face. “That’s pretty much it.” Shrugging at her lack of response, he moved back to the coffee. “If you want to get started on that, I’ll get to work on the doors.”

She nodded. Reaching blindly for the tape once more, she ripped off a piece. Leaning forward, she forced her fingers to press it down against the cool tiling. She was moderately pleased with the straight line. “Do you, uh, do you think we’ll get it all done today?”

There, that seemed like a safe topic of conversation. Taking a deep breath, and then another, she repeated her motion, going back over the tape. She hardly felt in control of her body.

When he didn’t immediately respond, she glanced back over her shoulder. Matt was leaning up against the counter, and at her glance, he lifted his eyes from the table, where he’d been mentally counting the doors.

At her expression, he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

She let out a puff of breath. It felt a little cathartic. “Great insight.”

“That’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Keep your lines straight.”

Snapping back around, Cat felt her face contract. Dammit. Did the man have to, just have to point out—

With a vicious snap, she yanked the tape back. Then, leaning closer to the wall again, her hipbones jutting into the countertop, she carefully laid the tape back down. Then, heeding his advice, she felt her fingers pressed down on the tape—only a remnant of her earlier twitchiness still remained. Sliding down the line, she couldn’t’ help but wonder at her current position, her butt just slightly raised in the air, her back arched as she bent over the counter…

But when she flicked a quick glance over her shoulder, she was forced to acknowledge that Matt wasn’t even looking her way.

Well, of course he wasn’t.

“God, this is going to take forever.”

“Hmmm.”

Edging along the line, she found something of a rhythm after a way, her fingers moving by memory as she stuck and lined the tape. She had just moved past her stove when she heard Matt set his coffee cup down on the counter.

“Okay,” he said, bringing his hands together in thought. “I’m going to lay the cabinet doors out on the floor,” he said, his voice interrupting her thoughts. Turning at the unexpected sound, Cat had just enough time to see his gaze flicker upward just a bit too quickly to her face.

Had he been looking, after all?

Not even bothering to hide her grin, Cat crossed her arms over her chest, one hip leaning against the countertop as she waited for him to finish.

Indicating one of the cabinet doors, Matt motioned to the flooring. “I’m not sure we’ll have enough room to lay them all out. But…”

Cat nodded. “Okay.”

Rubbing his chin in concentration, Matt continued: “Watch your step.”

“Got it.”

Which was all good and fine in theory but when, fifteen minutes later, Cat could literally feel Matt crouched down on the floor behind her, her legs brushing up against his back as she reached up to get the bottom half of an upper cupboard door, things became…trickier.

He hadn’t been kidding when he said there wasn’t a lot of room.

“Oops. Sorry,” she called out over her shoulder when she stumbled on his foot.

“You’re fine.”

Cat laughed, letting her sore arms drop down to her sides as she glanced over at him. “I always knew my kitchen was small but this…”

Leaning back, he looked up at her. “I think a realtor would describe this as cozy.”

“It’s definitely that.” Biting her lip, Cat searched for something else to say. But they’d more-or-less exhausted that particular topic—which hardly scintillating in the first place.

With a sigh, she turned back to taping. Then she stopped, her eyebrows crinkling in frustration. It was too quiet in the kitchen. It was too…brisk. This wasn’t how she’d planned this morning would go.

“Hold still.”

“Huh?” But no sooner had Cat asked this then she felt Matt stand up. Half-turning in question, she realized too late what he’d meant. Standing directly in front of her, his left hand reaching for the lip of the counter to one side of her, he made to edge around her. With the doors scattered at their feet, there wasn’t really enough room.

Blinking up at his brown eyes, Cat sucked in her breath as his right leg swung around her. He was brushed up against her half-turned body now—not a spare breath of space between them.

“I need to grab more paint,” he said, his words so close they tangled with the air pushing past her slightly parted lips.

Cat could smell the hints of sandlewood and spice in the cologne that clung to his shirt.  Or maybe that was just the residue scent of a woodsman.

Her mouth dropping forward, Cat nodded idiotically. Then, unsure what else to do, she twisted back to face the countertop, her movements stilted but rushed. Bringing her body up as tight as she could, she waited as she felt him shift behind her, his toolbelt just grazing past her lower back. Both of his hands were cocooned around her now as he slowly stepped over the doors on the floor.

Swallowing, Cat felt frozen in place, her body reacting to the sudden feel and weight of him.

Then he was gone, his body drifting past hers to the kitchen table.

Still staring absently at the wall, she tried to steady her breathing. It wouldn’t do to hyperventilate now. Then again, wasn’t this perhaps how she had hoped the morning would conduct itself?

A little breathlessly.

“Here,” at the sound of Matt’s voice, a huskier quality than she felt sure was in it moments before, Cat shifted in his direction.

He was holding out the paint can. “Will you put this down for me?”

“Sure.” Hating the quiver in her voice, Cat reached for the can. Her fingers trembled slightly as she took it from him, her hand brushing against his as she lifted the thin metal handle. With careful movements, she placed it down where he’d been kneeling earlier.

When she straightened back up it was to see that Matt was tucking a couple new brushes in his back pocket. Smiling gamely, she made an empty gesture. “Maybe I should just…?” moving forward, closer to where he was standing by the opening of the kitchen doorway, Cat only hoped her intention to get out of his way was clear.

Side-stepping around her table, laden with sandpaper and paintbrushes and drop cloths, she waved him forward. “There, that should make it easier.” Toying with her ponytail, she laughed. “You know, I used to think about getting a dog. Not a big dog,” she said, her hand reaching out to run nervously against the bristles of a paintbrush. Her eyes followed the motion relentlessly. “You know, just to have a little company—someone who’d force me to get in a little exercise.” Cat laughed weakly. “But now maybe I’m glad I didn’t. I doubt there’d even been enough room in here for that—”

“Cat.”

Stopping, she took a breath. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. You can take your spot back.”

At the words, Cat’s eyes snapped upward. Sure enough, during her little monologue of nonsense, Matt had resumed his position on the floor. And the walkway was open once more. Biting down on the feeling in the pit of her stomach warning her that, yet again, she’d made a fool of herself, Cat did as requested.

Within the hour, she was finished taping.

Wiping her hands together, she looked down at Matt. He’d finished most of the doors by now.

Cat pointed toward the remaining doors with the toe of her shoe. “Should I help you with that?”

Glancing up at her, almost as though he’d forgotten she was there, Matt shook his head slowly. “Ah, no. No, let’s get you started on the framing.”

She nodded. Actually, that sounded better. The farther away she was from him, the safer she felt. Not that her kitchen ever allowed for much space.

“Gotcha.”

Gaining his feet, Matt motioned her to the table. “Here. I would start with this brush.”

Cat eyed it. It was small. She sighed. “Okay.”

As though he’d read her thoughts, Matt grinned. “It won’t take as long as this might imply.”

Smiling in return, Cat picked up the brush. “I’m sorry. Here you are, being my white knight—”

He made a sound in his throat. “Not quite.”

Cat rolled her eyes. “God, do you always have to make it so difficult.”

He looked at her.

“I’m just trying to compliment you.”

“With dramatics?”

“Right. Of course.” Spinning tightly on her heel, she shook her head. “My apologies. But then, that appears to be my style, doesn’t it?” Toeing the step stool closer, she climbed up the first couple rings. Seemingly unperturbed by her snapping comeback, Matt resumed his position on the floor, his brush strokes confident as he started on a new door.

This went on for some minutes, the only sound the wet swish of paint carefully applied to wood. Cat’s nerves were to the stretching point, her stomach churning as the quiet stretched on and on….“So, uh, how’s it going down there?” Cat asked, peering over her shoulder to watch Matt’s back bending over a door.

He didn’t even bother to raise his head. “Good.”

“Yeah. I’m almost finished with this wall,” Cat returned inanely. She nodded at the wall for confirmation.

“Good.”

Cat dipped her brush in the small cup she’d poured the paint into. “You know, you’re in a pretty good position here.”

That got his attention, at least. “Excuse me?”

“Well, after this,” she mused, letting her brush stroke down the frame in a smooth line. “I’ll owe you like forever.”

“I think did beforehand.”

Smiling cheekily over her shoulder, she conceded him that point. “True. So, if you need anything painted at the store…?”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” And that, apparently, would be that. Without loss of time, Matt returned to his door.

Biting her lip, Cat pressed on. “Or, you know, whatever.”

“Hmm.”

“Or I could just assure Birdie that I’d have been lost without you. That’d probably save you some headache,” she continued.

Matt sighed. “There you go again, making me out to be some saint.”

“Well, really, we hardly know each other and here you are,” she said, spreading her arms out wide, indicating her mess of a kitchen. A glob of paint dropped off the end of the brush in her hands, landing with a smack on the drop cloth at her feet. “Wasting a Saturday to paint. I mean…”

Glancing up at her, he carefully set his paintbrush down. “I don’t mind painting.”

“No?”

“It’s easy. I can just, think.”

If that wasn’t a subtle snub, Cat wasn’t sure what was.

 

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Eighteen

Cat had just kicked her door shut that evening when her phone buzzed. Glancing down at it, she assured herself she wasn’t disappointed that it wasn’t from Matt, that it wasn’t like she’d been expecting a text message from him.

 

AMELIA K.

Drinks?

KITTY CAT

Can’t tonight. Sorry! I’m starting on a big project for the weekend.

 

AMELIA K.

Need help?

 

At the offer, Cat stopped to consider the words. A warmth of comfort spread over her chest and, in reaction, her fingers closed around her phone more tightly. It was amazing how good that felt—to have a friend again. Still, looking around her apartment, Cat frowned. The carpet really needed a good vacuum and she should probably plump up the couch cushions, and she definitely needed to get the dishes done—not to mention sweep and mop and…

 

KITTY CAT

It would be cruel and unusual punishment. But thanks for the offer. Maybe tomorrow?

 

Almost as quickly as she hit send, Cat’s fingers hit her phone’s keyboard again.

 

KITTY CAT

Or maybe Sunday?

 

AMELIA K.

Okay. Keep me posted.

 

Pocketing her phone with a feeling of belonging, Cat walked over to her kitchen closet. Opening the pantry-style doors, she allowed a small groan to escape her mouth. Reaching inside, she grabbed out a bottle of disinfectant. Did she realize it was stupid to clean her apartment, top-to-bottom, before tearing it all apart tomorrow? Of course, she did. But she needed something to occupy her time. (And she didn’t want Matt to think she was a slob or anything.)

Two hours later, sweaty after her deep-clean, Cat put her mop away. Her face was flushed and her wrists and fingers ached from the level of scrubbing and grubbing she’d performed. Turning in a small circle, she nodded, at last content. It had been worth it though. The floors sparkled, the pictures gleamed in their frames, and her couch had never looked more…fluffy.

Ripping off her rubber gloves, she brushed the sweat off her forehead with one arm. “Okay,” she said to the quiet house. “Now it’s time to get the real work started.” With that, she retrieved her screwdriver from her junk drawer. Biting down on her lip, she cautiously moved from door to door, carefully taking off the hinges and setting each cabinet, one on top of the other, on her kitchen table.

It was a little after eleven when she was finally finished. Brushing her hands against her worn jeans, she surveyed her work. “Girl, you got this,” she realized, her eyes scanning the disaster zone that currently doubled as her kitchen—but it was a clean disaster zone. It was an important distinction. Every cabinet and cupboard stared back at her, inviting the eye to see every can of soup and packet of rice, every kitchen appliance, and jars of preserves she usually kept hidden behind closed doors.

“It’s ready,” she decided, but only after taking a couple of minutes to organize the arrangement of her dry storage. Then, without a backward glance, lest she should find yet one more item to clean or organize, she headed for her bedroom. Pausing only long enough to strip out of her jeans and t-shirt, she landed with a plop on her bed. She fell asleep, face-down, on top of her comforter.

When her alarm clock woke her the next morning, Cat groaned into the watery light filtering through her thin window curtains. Pulling herself up and off the bed, she grumbled toward her bathroom.

“Welcome to the great weekend waste,” she muttered, ignoring the flop in her stomach when she remembered that Matt would be at her door in less than two hours. With that, she flicked on her shower.

By eight o’clock, she was just pouring herself a cup of coffee when her apartment buzzed. Since she was standing right beside her intercom system—she hadn’t wanted to make him wait outside, after all, Cat hit the ADMIT button almost as quickly as the bell pealed. Throwing open her apartment door, she poked her head out into the hallway just as the front door opened. Raising up her hand, she waved in greeting.

“Morning Matt!”

In an incredibly more normal tone of voice, Matt responded: “Hey Cat.” Hoisting a canvas bag over one shoulder, a toolkit slung over the other, Matt walked forward to greet her.

“Need help carrying anything?” She asked, moving out into the hall to allow him entrance into the building. “Just follow the hall to the end. Kitchen’s on the left,” she called after him.

“Thanks. I’m good. I just have the brushes left.”

Nodding idiotically, she rushed after him, her stockinged feet padding hastily in his wake. “Okay. What can I do to help set up?” Slowing her pace, Cat cringed. The brightness of her voice had only increased since Matt’s arrival. When she was nervous, she tended to get chatty. And her voice tended to rise—like an octave.

Dumping his bag on the floor, Matt thankfully hadn’t seemed to notice her sharp pitch. Instead, his hands on his hips, he nodded to the floor. “Help spread out the drop cloths?”

“Absolutely.” Biting down on the word, she forced herself to speak more slowly, lowly. “Uh, any particular way you’d like me to lay them out?”

Lifting his gaze, Matt gave her a level look. Actually, it was a little more impatient than that. “No. Just cover the floor and anything else you don’t want to be splattered with paint.”

Okay. Point taken. It was a stupid question. Feeling her face flush, she lowered her gaze as she walked over to the bag. Ignoring him, she reached inside for the cloth.

She’d almost completely covered the floor by the time he returned with the paintbrushes and cans. Glancing up from her position on the floor, she watched him place the brushes on the counter. “So, uh, not to sound like a total newb or anything—”

“Never.”

Ignoring his overt mockery, Cat continued. “But, um, what should we do first?”

Matt gave her a hopeful glance. “Coffee?”

“Oh!” Jumping to her feet, the drop cloth slip-sliding loosely underneath her, Cat felt her legs buckle at the sudden shift. Reaching out, her fingers grabbing the counter, she just managed to stay on her feet.

“Easy there.” At the words, Matt reached out to grab onto her upper arm. The weight of those long, lean fingers brought her gaze skipping up to his brown eyes. She surprised a look of concern and something else…something darker, in his expression for just a second before it was suddenly gone, replaced by a look of wry amusement.

“Yeah. I, uh…” but his hand, still wrapped around her arm, was distracting. Slowing pulling herself completely upright, her legs firm underneath her once more, Cat shot him a teasing glance. “No sudden movements. Got it.”

The fine lines around his brown eyes crinkled a little in response. When he spoke, his voice seemed lower, gruffer than normal. “All good now?”

There was something in that look that sent a shiver down her spine, a tingle up her stomach—but all the same, Cat managed a jerky nod. “Yeah. I’m, ah, I’m steady.” Her breath rattled loudly in her ears, and she feared the telling sound was filling up the small space in the kitchen.

But his only reaction was a wink as he let his hand go from her arm.

“Right then,” Cat said, clearing her throat. “Coffee. Let me get you a cup.” Turning with exaggerated care, she reached for a coffee mug. “Cream or sugar?”

“No. Black is fine.”

As she poured the coffee, the rich aroma of hazelnut flavor filling the room, she watched him sling the leather toolbelt across his hips. God, as if the man needed an accessory to make him even hotter?

Putting the pot back on the warmer, she held out the mug. “Okay. What’s next?”

“First, I drink this.”

She glanced down at her feet, mostly because she wasn’t sure where else to look. Staring directly at Matt seemed dangerous. No, scratch that. It seemed all too transparent. “Right.”

“Then we tape.”

She scrunched her nose. “Ugh. I hate that part.”

“Everyone does.”

“Okay.” Walking timidly over the cloth underfoot, she brought herself up to the table where the brushes sat. Beside them, in that universal blue of a day spent painting, was the roll of tape. “All right. Any strategy to this?”

Leaning back against her counter, he grinned at her over the pottery mug. “Have you ever painted before? Anything?”

Pouting, Cat held out the tape. “No teasing, remember?”

He held up the hand not holding the coffee. “No mockery. Just incredulity.”

She narrowed her gaze. “I feel like we’re splitting hairs, here.”

Straightening up, setting his cup on the counter, Matt approached her. There was something predatory in the silent way he moved, in how close to her he came before finally stopping. Cat’s head was forced to tip backward as his body come up to hers. Then, holding her breath, she felt his fingers lift, grazing hers as he slid the tape out of her grasp.There was something suggestive about the motion.

Cat felt her chest constrict at the moment.

Her eyes, guarded now, watched as he slowly ripped a long piece of tape off the roll. “Just stick it to the border of the area to be painted and stretch it taut. Pretty simple.”

Swallowing, she took the piece of tape he held out for her. She wasn’t sure what was happening. But something was, and it didn’t have a whole hell of a lot to do with painting. Grabbing the edge of the tape, she set it across the top edge of the backsplash. Then, pressing down with her thumb, she pulled it across the length.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “Pretty simpl—”

Hissing to a shocked close, she felt her hand being lifted once more. She felt her hand being lifted once more. Holding her wrist, Matt pressed his thumb over hers, running them back and forth over the blue line of tape. The pad of his thumb pressed firmly against hers.

She held her breath as sensations flooded her system. The wall stared back at her absently as she let him led her movements.

“The tape needs to be flat. Paint will find its way inside it, otherwise,” he said, leaning forward so his voice was little more than a whisper in her ear.

She didn’t hear one damn word he said.

 

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Seventeen

Passing him the cash, Cat stared down at the paint. “But seriously, you know you don’t have to come over and help me paint.”

He glanced up at her, his expression obvious. “Yeah, I know.”

At the words, the patent indifference, Cat swallowed vague disappointment. Hell, who was she trying to kid? There was nothing vague about it. At Mary’s offer, she’d felt a surge of excitement at the idea of Matt inside her home. Well, never mind that now. Reaching for the handle on the paint, she pushed it toward her.

“This’ll be enough?”

He shrugged. “Depends on the size of your kitchen. But as I said, better to need more than to spend a bunch of money on unnecessary paint.”

Ignoring the weight in her stomach that told her that the playful, teasing Matt had retired at the sight of his grandmother, Cat nodded too quickly. “Okay.”

“Well,” with a pull, she hefted up the paint can up in her arms. She’d never been much good at small talk. She was always worried she’d bore the listener with her banal stories, or that she’d miss the signal that it was time to say goodbye. Her coping mechanism was easy. Avoid it at all costs. Today, however, she mourned the societal skill set. “Thanks for the help. Again.” Wrinkling her nose for point, on those words, she turned toward the front entrance.

“Hey Cat?”

Half-turning, she smiled. “Yeah?”

“Did you, ah, want to see the cabinet door?”

Feeling her cheeks suck together at the words, at the slight condescension in the question, Cat smiled tightly. Then she nodded again.  The fuck. How could she have forgotten about the door. Again!

“Yes. Of course. I just thought…you know, I didn’t call and tell you I was coming down and I didn’t want to distract you from—” Petering to a stop, Cat refused to meet Matt’s imploring expression. “Besides,” she added flippantly. “I didn’t know if it was a silly think to ask. I mean, it’ll look like all the other doors, right?” Finally admitting defeat, Cat clamped her mouth shut. God, would she never learn to shut the hell up, already?

“You can leave that here if you want,” Matt said, coming around the counter, his gaze taking in the heavy paint in her hands.

Placing it back on the wooden countertop, Cat followed Matt to the very back of the building, through a door that’d be almost unnoticeable except for the sign that read, Employees Only across the front.

Through it, Cat entered into the warehouse. The first half was crowded with supplies, stacks and stacks of cut, raw wood, washing machines and various appliances, slabs of marble and quartz, and beyond these things, more and more shipping crates and boxes. Past that, however, Cat saw the loading dock and to the right of that, Matt’s work bench. This, at last, was familiar territory.

“Should I close my eyes?”

“Uh. No,” Matt chuckled.

“Spoilsport,” Cat muttered with a pout.

Matt didn’t even bother replying. Instead, walking up to the workbench, he plucked off a rectangular piece of wood. Then, bending down to a shelf below that, he grabbed another one. Holding them out in each hand, he nodded toward Cat. “Here you go.”

Stepping forward hesitantly, she let her eyes shift. In his left hand was the new door, the walnut a whiskey brown in color. In the right was the sample door, its white paint coated with sawdust and time.

Her eyes flicked frantically from the one to the other, processing, comparing, testing. But, besides the color, which only required a new coat of paint it was … “Perfect,” Cat breathed, leaning forward to trace the lined edges on the new door.

She raised her eyes to Matt’s, surprising a look of pride etched out on his high cheekbones, slivered through the narrowing gaze of those brown eyes. “It’s beautiful, Matt.”

He coughed. “Easy design.”

“No, it’s more than that.” Looking back down at the pieces before her, she felt her gaze moving again, shifting to one and then the other. “You’re a real craftsman.”

“All right, all right.” Placing them down on the workbench, he brushed his hands against his jeans. Cat had a feeling she’d embarrassed him. For some reason, she was sort of proud of that fact.

Leaning over the doors, again, she sighed, her gaze riveted. “I can’t believe it.”

Turning around, she felt moisture hit the backs of her eyes. “It’s an exact match. Perfect. No one will ever now.”

“I’m glad you’re not being overdramatic about it.”

“Oh, shush,” Cat said, bating away his words. She peeked up at him. “Really though, thanks.”

He rocked back on the heels of his feet, his hands digging into the front pockets of his jeans. “Yeah, no big deal.”

“It is to me.” His frame blurred a little in her eyes. Dropping her gaze, she gathered her composure. The last thing she needed to do right now was break down and cry. He’d already accused her of being overdramatic. He’d probably faint if she started bawling.

She didn’t know Matt well, but she had a pretty good feeling he wouldn’t appreciate that.

“I can see that.”

Shaking her head, Cat didn’t respond to Matt’s quiet mockery. How could she explain to him what this meant? She wasn’t sure she entirely understood it herself. Looking down at cabinet door, she knew it was an exact replica. In fact, the lines were a little cleaner, a little straighter than the original. How could she explain that her life felt a little like that broken piece of furniture? At first, a little worn out, fragile, easily broken. How could she explain that, by breaking that door, she could feel a part of her life healing? And looking at the finished piece, so much stronger and better than the original, that she felt hope?

“How much?” Her voice came out rough, uneven. She didn’t bother lifting her eyes. She wasn’t willing to meet the challenge in his eyes.

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw his hands lift up in an empty movement. Then one of them went to play with the bill of his ever-present baseball hat. “I don’t know. It wasn’t a very difficult piece.”

“But it’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

“How much?” Then she did lift her head, turning toward him expectantly.

“Fifty bucks?”

She stilled. “I think it’s worth more than that.”

“I don’t have that many hours into it.”

“But I looked up the price of having it customized. Fifty bucks is low.”

“And I’m no—”

“Professional?” she scoffed, her hands waving toward the door. “I’m not buying that line anymore.”

He grinned. “You’re not going to start crying again, are you?”

She glared. “I wasn’t crying.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is—”

“Look,” with a mild flash of annoyance, he interrupted her. “It’s been a long day. It’s been a long week.” Without notice, he walked toward the small refrigerator, huddled under a microwave and beside an industrial counter, against the back wall. Bending down, he opened the door and pulled out a beer.

“Want one?”

“Ah. Sure?”

Snapping the tops off both he handed one over to her.

“Okay. Proceed.”

“Price negotiation over beers?”

“Is there any other way?”

Cat laughed. Bringing the bottle up to her mouth, she took a swig. Matt was right about one thing. It had been a long week.

“Oh shit.”

Matt raised an eyebrow.

“I almost forgot,” Cat explained.  “I’m going to need paintbrushes for the kitchen.”

Matt grinned. “Yeah, I wondered about that…”

“Thanks for speaking up.”

“I figured I’d just bring them over myself. With drop cloths.”

Cat felt her stomach spasm at the words. “What?”

He sighed. “It’s not a good business move, of course.”

“Excuse me?”

“Left to your own devices, you’d probably pay the yearly mortgage on this place alone. In a month.”

“Gee. Thanks.” And probably, he wanted to see the back of her much sooner than that.

He took a long pull off his bottle. Leaning against the countertop of the makeshift—actually, Cat wasn’t sure what that was, employee break room? —he didn’t seem the least bit worried about offending her.

“You realize how big a job it is, taking apart your entire kitchen to paint some cabinets?”

“I have an idea, thank you.”

“It’s not just slapping paint around. You’ll have to take down each door—”

Cat could feel her fingers pressing against the brown bottle of her beer. Her right eye narrowed. “Are you trying to be patronizing?”

“No.”

“Good. Because I’m not an idiot.”

Matt either didn’t hear or didn’t care about the warning note in her voice. “But you are a little rash.”

“Excuse me?” Cat felt the slap in those words.

Matt frowned that way men do when they feel threatened by the emotions of a well-adjusted female. “Don’t get your feelings hurt.”

Cat’s lips pulled into a snarl. She took a step toward him, her whole expression a threat. “Don’t tell me what to do with my feelings.”

He nodded toward the cabinet door. “The evidence sort of speaks for itself.”

“Oh, hell,” Cat swore, following his eyes. “How long are you going to hold that over my head?”

Matt nodded. “Fine. Okay. How about today, coming in here to inform me that instead of painting one kitchen door, you’re now painting all of them.”

A fissure of silence descended.

And then, unbelievably, Cat smiled. “Yeah, okay. That was a bit rash,” she admitted. Still, she bristled. “But I don’t need my nose rubbed in it, repeatedly.”

His lips twitched. “Noted.”

“I’m not saying I don’t suck at this type of stuff,” Cat said, her lips thinning into a pout. “But at least I’m willing to fix my mistakes. I want to learn. But I don’t want to be judged.”

Matt seemed to consider her words. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I won’t tease you anymore.” At her raised eyebrows, he smiled thinly. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Cat shot him a knowing grin. Fair was fair. “And I’ll try not to hyperventilate when I screw up.”

Matt tried to swallow a laugh. It came out as a muffled grunt. “So, what time are you getting started tomorrow?”

“Well, I was going to do it early. Maybe nine?” She thought about it for a moment. “Is that too early?”

“Nine is fine.”

“I could probably take down all the doors this evening though.”

Matt didn’t respond to that. Instead, he held out his phone. “What’s your number?”

“My address?”

“Your phone number. I figure you can text me your address.”

“Oh.” Taking the phone, she quickly punched in her contact information.

Taking it back from her, he hit a couple of keys.

“There, now I sent you my number.”

Feeling the buzz of her phone in her pocket, Cat patted the outline of it for emphasis. “Got it.” Bringing the beer back up to her mouth, she was surprised to find that it was empty. “Should I, uh, should I take those with me?” She pointed with the empty glass bottle toward the cabinet doors.

“I’ll bring ‘em tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Seeing a small plastic garbage bin beside the mini-fridge, Cat threw her bottle inside it. Then, wiping her hands nervously against her jeans, she nodded.

“I really feel that I should offer you one last chance to get out of painting tomorrow. You really don’t have to.”

“I’m only too aware of that.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Masochist then?”

He grinned. He had the most devastating smile. She wondered if he realized that. “I could think of worse ways to spend my Saturday.”

“And better ones.”

He paused. “Do you not want me to come over?”

“No! No, I definitely want the help. I’m just not sure I should take it.”

“Birdie would never let either one of us live it down otherwise.”

“Ah. So that’s why.”

He smirked. “No, I didn’t say that.”

“Then you love painting?”

“I didn’t say that, either.”

Cat felt exposed, unprepared for what wasn’t being said. “Then what?”

But Matt wasn’t going to rise to the bait. “I’ll see you tomorrow Cat.” And just like that, he tossed his bottle in the garbage beside hers before leading her once again back up to the front of building, where her can of paint sat, half-forgotten up at the counter.

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Sixteen

“No.” Cat made a face. “None.”

He nodded absently, his thoughts clearly on the topic at hand. Which really only made her feel more ridiculous—here she was checking her out, and there he was practically unaware that she was in a female.

“But it’s not dark, either,” she said, for something to say. “The living room is across the way and it does get a lot of natural light.”

“Okay.” Rifling through the options his finger paused—the color was called Pearly Antique.

“That’s pretty.”

“Yeah—”

“Thanks, Matt!” Jim called out then, his booming voice coming from the direction of the front door. “Let me know when they come in, will ya?”

“Of course! Talk soon!” Matt returned at the sound of the door opening and closing behind him.

Matt plucked out the card. Then he took out another one—it had a creamier look to it and was called Soft White. Then, before she could open her mouth, he’d grabbed one more called Farmland White.

“These are popular choices for lighter, brighter kitchens,” Matt considered. He looked up at her, waiting for her reaction.

Cat looked down at them. “Okay. So, how do I choose?”

“Well, I can give you sample paints in each color and you can try them out, see which one you like best.”

Cat frowned. “That sounds time-consuming.”

Matt looked over at her, his eyebrows rising. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to paint an entire kitchen?”

Cat shrugged. “No. But I figure it’ll take my entire weekend.”

Matt nodded. “And if you pick the wrong color…” he let the sentence dangle pointedly.

Cat caught on pretty quickly. “Then I start from scratch.”

“Yup.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m emotionally invested in the color.”

“True.”

“And do you really want me tromping in and out of here every few days?” she teased him, glancing up with a sidelong look.

His lips quirked up at the edges. “As opposed to now, you mean?”

“Oh shut it,” she said, swiping at his arm again.

“I never said I minded it.”

Cat felt her mouth slip just slightly open. It was just the type of comment she’d come to expect from him. Just flirty enough to make her wonder, but just unassuming enough to keep her from responding in kind. He could have just been being friendly, or that of a shrewd businessman. She didn’t know.

Clearing her throat, she pointed back to the paint samples. “I mean, do you think any of these options are risky?”

Matt chuckled. “Uh, no. Definitely not.”

“Okay.” Biting the side of her mouth, she peeked up at him again. “Are there any, like, things I should know about painting? Any tricks of the trade, or anything”

“No experience in that, either?”

“Not really.”

Matt shook his head. “Well, I suppose that depends on a few things.”

“Like what?”

“How big the kitchen is—”

“Not big.”

“What equipment you have—”

“Probably none of it,” Cat murmured.

“—how many people you’ve got helping you out.”

Cat smiled at him impishly. “Just me.”

At the words, Matt was pulled out of his check-off. Raising his eyebrows—which she sometimes felt sure was his very pastime when around her—he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’re going to do it all alone?”

“Yup.” Nodding aggressively in response to his clear concern, Cat laughed cheekily. “Unless, of course, that’s an offer?”

“Of course it’s an offer! Matthew, tell her!”

In unison, both Matt and Cat whipped around at the sudden inclusion of a new voice to the conversation. There, standing a few feet away from there was none other than Birdie.

“Jesus! Where did you come from?” Matt grumbled.

“What a lovely welcome,” Birdie told him through narrowed eyes. “Is that what guests can expect when they come in here? Your grandfather would have something to say about that.”

Matt glowered at her.

She waved behind her. “That lovely gentleman, Jim Harris, was leaving just as I entered. He even held the door open for me.” She turned to Cat. “Matt could probably use some lessons in manners like that.”

Cat grinned. Then she shifted her gaze to Matt’s darkening gaze. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“How are you, sweetie?”

Cat smiled. There was something so comforting about Birdie. And yet, she was well aware that the sweet old woman standing in front of her could be extremely bossy, too. “I’m good.”

Birdie took in the paint samples in her hands. “For the door, I assume.”

“The one and the same.”

Matt looked from the one to the other, his already narrow eyes narrowing further. “Hah! I should have known.” The look he leveled their way was full of suspicion and disgust.

“Known?”

“An ambush ladies?” But he didn’t actually seem that upset.

Cat’s mouth dropped open wide. “What, no of course not!” She looked at Birdie—her eyes wide at the thrust of accusation, her body inviting Birdie to back her up.

“Matthew, don’t be so suspicious,” Birdie tsk-tsked. She shook her head regally.

“So it’s just coincidence that you happen to be here right now?”

“Of course.” Birdie pulled herself up to her full height.

He opened his mouth in rebuttal but Birdie stopped him with a look.

“Oh, Matthew, don’t ruin it now.”

“Ruin what?” Exasperation didn’t quite cover the harassed tone of his voice.

“When I came in here you were just on the verge of volunteering to help Cat paint her kitchen.”

In answer to this frank statement, Matt said: “Eavesdropping?” His voice held a silky quality that even Cat interpreted to mean that he was hardly amused.

“All those years I spent teaching you how to be a good man. Don’t disappoint me now.”

Cat’s eyes widened. Birdie was laying it on thick.

Reaching out, her hand touching Matt’s arms, feeling the tense muscles, Cat spoke. “Honestly, I couldn’t ask you do that—and I certainly don’t expect you to help me.”

“You didn’t ask. He was offering.”

“Grandma,” there was a warning note in that word. One which Birdie did not heed.

“Matthew,” she returned. Standing between their clashing eyes, Cat felt itchy.

“Really,” she insisted then, looking from Birdie’s expectant face to Matt’s hunted one. She held his eyes. “I simply cannot, could not, accept your help. You’ve already done enough for me. Too much.”

His lips twitched.

She realized, belatedly, she was still touching his arm. With a jerk, she let her hand fall back down at her side. Unexpectedly, his eyes followed the movement of her hand. Something flashed in his gaze.

“Do you have drop cloth?”

“Huh?”

“Oh hell.” Breathing in roughly, Matt raised his gaze back up to her eyes.

“Take his help, dearie,” Birdie advised, giving Cat a sympathetic look. “You’re in way over your head.”

“Thanks, Birdie,” Cat mumbled, feeling her cheeks warm at the intimation that she wasn’t up to the task of something as simple as painting a door, nevermind the fact that she’d all but admitted as much to Matt only minutes earlier. It was one thing to say it, another to have it validated by the opinion of someone else. “Besides, he didn’t actually offer to help me,” she hissed under her breath.

“Yes, he did.”

“No, you offered his help.”

Birdie waved this thought away, as though of little substance.

Cat looked back up at Matt. “I think I’m going to go with Antique Pearl.” For added effect, she handed him the card. “It’ll pick up the light from the living room.” She said this as though it were fact. She had absolutely no idea.

He nodded.

“What kind of finish should I use?”

“I’d suggest Satin.”

“Is that the best?”

“No. But then, this isn’t for your house. But it’s good.”

Cat nodded. “Okay.”

“How much paint?”

“I don’t know.”

Matt smiled tightly. “I’ll get you a gallon. And we’ll see how far that goes, huh?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll mix it up now.”

“Great. I’ll meet you back up at the front.” Spinning sharply on his boot, Matt left them, his body retreating under the heavy, angry tattoo of his long-legged stride.

Cat winced, but before she could do anything more—

“I’ll come up there with you.” Slinking her arm through Cat’s, Birdie took the younger woman up the aisle and to the front counter. “So, how does the door look?”

Cat jerked to a halt at the question. Incredulity assaulted her person. In all the confusion, she’d forgotten to look, to even ask about it. Stuttering, she admitted: “I don’t, I don’t know.”

“Blind faith?”

Cat laughed. “Hardly. I just got distracted” She sighed. Again. “But then, that’s sort of been the theme with this project.”

“Well, that’s choice, dear.”

“Not really.”

Birdie gave her a shrewd look but didn’t say anything. Instead, she patted her arm. “Well, anyway good luck with the rest of it. Will I see you on Monday for Canasta? Mary said you were on the team now?”

Cat smiled. So Mary had told the others. It was official. “If Mary said that, who am I to disagree?”

Birdie giggled in that girlish way of hers. Cat found herself wondering about her marriage to the late Mr. McBoy. He must have cherished her to have left her so youthful. “Certainly, it wouldn’t be your smartest move.” Reaching for the door handle, she gave Cat a mischievous glance. “I better get out of here before Matthew gets even more annoyed with my meddling.” She didn’t look the least bit contrite or worried, though.

Leaning back against the counter, Cat nodded. “See you Monday.” Then she watched as Birdie, with a half-wave in goodbye, headed out into the early evening.

“She gone?”

At the sound, coming from halfway down one of the aisles, Cat rolled her eyes. “Yes. It’s safe to come out now.”

Matt grunted, coming up one of the back aisles, a can of paint held in one hand. “Not likely.” Setting the paint on the counter, he rang it up.

 

Life Reconstructed: Chapter Fifteen

“Did you find the paint?”

Fighting back a quick grin, Cat turned slowly in Matt’s direction. She couldn’t deny the thrill that fought at the edges of her stomach at the question. When she’d sailed into the building some ten minutes ago, he was the first thing her anxious eyes had latched on to—only, he’d been standing beside an elderly man, apparently deep in conversation about carpentry. She doubted he’d even heard the quiet jingle of the door-chimes announcing her presence.

Well, no matter.

Ducking quickly down the first aisle, lest he should think that she was in want of his attention—she wasn’t! She hadn’t come here to see him, no matter the swarm of disappointment which had settled in the pit of her chest at his distraction person.

Besides, if nothing else, he’d know she was there when she checked-out. He’d have to ring up her purchases, after all. Smiling almost clandestinely, she’d traversed down the long aisle—that would almost be an edge. The element of surprise. The delayed pleasure principle. Besides, it might come as a bit of a difference—her not searching him out.

And maybe she’d been hoping for this very moment: when he sought her out.

Looking up at his half-smiling face now, Cat clenched down on the satisfaction of realizing that not only had he noticed her presence, but he’d come to find her—showing an inordinate interest in her being at the store.

“’Fraid not,” she replied, twisting her lips playfully. Then she shrugged, turning back to the paint samples.

“Yeah,” he sighed, sticking his hands in his pants pockets. He angled his body toward the samples she was staring at. “I suppose that would’ve been too easy.”

Cat laughed softly. “My thoughts exactly.”

He nodded. “Well, I did look at the paint on the doors and I think I can come up with something close.”

She nodded absently, her eyes scanning the zone of white paints. “I don’t know.”

“Excuse me?”

At the slightly defensive tone, she turned back toward him with an apologetic gaze. “I don’t mean…” she shrugged, taking a breath to find her words. “You’ve worked so hard and I just don’t think close is going to cut it.”

His eyes gleamed in abject amusement. “I see.”

“No, probably not.”

“Yeah. Probably.” His eyes skipped over to hers. “Nothing unusual there.”

Cat laughed. It held a throaty quality that she hadn’t meant to achieve, but then, neither was she upset with the sound.

Rounding her shoulders, she looked at the paint samples in front of her. “Do you ever do something and it has a ripple effect, but instead of ripples they turn out to be mammoth waves?”

Matt compressed his lips in amusement. His brown eyes stared back at her. “Uh…”

“I know, I know,” Cat said, holding up a hand and beating him to the punch. “I’m probably being dramatic. But…”

In the background, she could hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. Through her peripheral vision, she could see a man walking in the door, could see Matt turn in automatic response toward the customer.

Pivoting his gaze back to Cat, he didn’t let the distraction keep him from the conversation at hand. Leaning his elbow against the paints on display, Matt grinned knowingly. “But?”

“I’m going to have to start from scratch.”

“Huh?”

“The whole shebang.”

Rocking back on his heels, Matt waited.

“I’m going to repaint the entire kitchen.”

He whistled. It wasn’t exactly encouraging.

Turning toward him, pleading now, Cat held out her hands. “What else could I do? After everything—all that time and work, to throw it away at the last minute?”

Matt lifted his eyebrows. “And this is somehow supposed to pass by your landlord unnoticed, too?” He pursed his lips. “Must be a hell of a landlord.”

“Oh, he is,” Cat assured him dryly. “But no—I, uh, I called him.”

“You confessed all?”

“Hardly.”

Matt waited again. He was good at that.

“Umm…” biting her lip, Cat stalled out. Waving forward, she hesitated. “If you need to help that customer, go ahead…” She would almost rather be alone with her remorse.

“Nah,” Matt said. “It’s just Jim.”

“Oh.” Like that was supposed to mean something to her.

“Jim!” Matt yelled then, startling Cat. “I’m by the paints if you need me.” Then he turned back to Cat. “You were saying? Something about ripples?”

“Oh, shut up!” Cat said, slapping at his arm playfully. “Look, there was no leftover paint at the apartment. Zippo, zilch.”

“Got it.”

Cat shrugged, dropping her gaze. Now that she’d made her decision, now that she’d already called Grant and settled her future, she felt rather foolish about it all. “Even if by some miracle, we found the perfect match, you were right earlier. The other doors, they’re faded, chipped. The new paint would be glaringly obvious.”

Matt inclined his head in quiet agreement.

“So—well, it’s probably for the best this way.”

“Got any of those LUX lights?” This came from the man who’d entered the shop moments ago. Standing at one end of the aisle, (Cat hadn’t even heard him come up to them) he looked over at Matt expectantly.

Matt shook his head. “Not in the store. But I can order some for you.”

The man nodded. He held out a slip of paper. “Mary wrote down the kind. It’s special, apparently,” he said with a long-suffering sigh.

Matt smiled. “Yeah. No problem. Can you leave that for me at the front counter? I’ll get ‘em ordered for you tonight. Should be in by Tuesday,” he said in consideration.

The man nodded. “Sounds good.” Then his gaze switched back to Cat. He tipped his ballcap her in direction. “Sorry to interrupt. Ma’am.”

When he’d walked away, Matt turned back to Cat. “Sorry about that.”

She waved his words away. “Not at all. So, um, do you have any recommendations?

“You’re sure about this? Repainting your entire kitchen?”

“Well, not the walls.”

“Right. Because that would be weird.”

She blushed. “Shut up.”

“Doesn’t that seem a bit extreme?”

She shrugged. “Sort of the story of my life when it concerns home improvement.”

He chuckled. “What did you tell your landlord?”

Cat shook her head. “God, whatever I needed to say.”

“Are you being elusive deliberately?”

She picked up a paint sample card at random. “No, I just feel kind of rotten about it all now.”

Matt took the card out of her hand. “While I like the color yellow. I’m not sure about a cabinet door.”

Cat sighed. “When it was a lie by omission—just hoping that he’d never notice the new door, that was different. But today I actually lied.”

“What’d you say?”

“You’re laughing at me,” Cat accused, nabbing the sample card back out of his hands. She tried not to notice the slight feel of his skin against her own.

“Only a little.”

“I convinced that I wanted to repaint the kitchen. You know, brighten it up or something.”

“Or something.”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn’t think that was strange?”

“Honestly,” Cat blew out a breath. Then she smiled up at Matt. “I don’t think strange entered into it. Money did.”

“Ah.”

“I think most of what he heard was ‘free labor.” Cat made face. “I don’t even remember the last time I saw Grand in the building, come to think of it. He isn’t what you’d call a very hands-on manager.”

“Sounds pretty ideal.”

“Can be.”

Actually, at that point, Grant had closed the argument for her. She could practically picture him—a fat man with shirts that frequently didn’t completely cover his belly, a scrabble of facial hair on his red cheeks. Spittle would foam at the edges of his mouth. “It’s all the best for me. If you decide to move out, I won’t have to touch up the kitchen at all. And you’re paying for this?”

“Anyway, he agreed so fast I’m not sure I got all the way through the sentence before he rang off the phone.”

“Fair enough.”

Cat wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but she thought perhaps she detected that tell-tale note of approaching indifference entering at the edges of his words.

“So, I’m here. I told him I’d pick out a neutral color and…” she waved pointedly at the display ahead of her.

Turning at her pointed suggestion, Matt considered the paint sample cards. “Sticking with white, then?”

“Yup.”

“Okay.”

A slight silence descended while Matt looked at the options and Cat pretended not to look at him. Though she told herself he probably did this for every customer that walked through the door, she couldn’t help but feel special as he carefully ran through the list possibilities.

“Do you get a lot of natural light in the kitchen?”