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.