Chapter Twenty-four

Nate wanted to spend time with Hanna, but he had too much work to do if he was going to move forward with the Ophelia. And he was moving forward. Everything Hanna had told him was right. If he didn't try to save the old hotel, he'd never forgive himself.

He'd also never forgive himself if he fell in love with a woman who was leaving any day.

She said she wanted to leave here with them still friends, and he was doing his best to respect that decision.

Even so, he was getting attached to her. He knew the warning signs—wanting to spend every second with her, having thoughts of her constantly interrupting his concentration, wondering what she was doing right now, and whether she lay in her bed at night, thinking about him. Wanting him.

Sappy.

He had to put some distance between them before he fell for her completely, so that's what he did.

He showed up twice a day to check on her, bring her food, change her bandage and make sure the crew he'd hired to work on the Yellow Rose was doing what he wanted. He was careful never to show up unless there were people around, because he couldn't trust himself with a woman he wanted as much as he wanted Hanna.

Declan had called and said that the part to fix her truck had come in from the salvage yard, but it was bad, so it was back to the hunt for another.

Part of Nate was relieved that she was still tied to Whisper Lake, but the rest of him knew that he couldn't keep his distance forever. If she didn't leave soon, his willpower was going to crack.

After days of seeing her as little as possible, he was going through withdrawal.

He couldn't concentrate. Couldn't sleep. He snapped at employees for no reason, gaining him looks like they'd thought he'd been possessed by evil spirits. He was horny, irritable, and irrationally lonely.

How could a man be lonely when he was surrounded by friends and family every day?

Nate had no answers, but he knew it was time to raise his shields and take Hanna her evening food delivery.

She hadn't asked him for groceries. He realized that. He didn't owe her anything but a fair wage for the work she'd done. He realized that, too. But still, there was a driving force inside of him that made it impossible for him not to take care of her.

Hell, her refrigerator was full of the last food deliveries he'd made, and yet here he was, two grocery bags filled to the brim with more food she'd never be able to consume before she left town.

He knew it was insane, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

When he pulled up to the Yellow Rose, the first thing he noticed was that his crew was gone for the day. The tools were gone, and not a single car remained, even though it was an hour before quitting time.

The second thing he saw was Hanna high on an extension ladder, removing a decorative corbel from the eaves. She saw his truck, gave a brief wave, then finished carefully prying the carved wood from its perch.

Nate rushed to steady the ladder. He was pissed that his crew had bugged out, and even more angry that she was up there without an assist.

What if she'd fallen? What if he hadn't come by to check on her tonight? She could have laid on the ground for hours, unconscious or bleeding and no one would have ever known.

He waited until she was on the ground before he let go of his anger. "What the hell, Hanna? It wasn't enough that you cut yourself open on my job site? Now you have to risk breaking your neck, too?"

She blinked at him in surprise, then her expression shifted. It was a slow, strange change, but when it was over, she was looking at him with acceptance—as if she'd known all along what he'd say.

Without a word, she turned with her wooden prize, picked up a matching piece that was lying on the ground nearby, and walked up the stairs.

"That's it?" he said, following along behind her. "No apology? No explanation?

"I won't apologize for doing my job. As for an explanation as to why I was up there without someone to hold the ladder, you can ask your crew about that. Apparently, my ‘girly wooden thingies,' as they called them, were in the way of their new roof going on first thing in the morning. They left for their baseball game and told me that if the corbels weren't down before dawn, they'd take them down in as many pieces as necessary to do the job fast."

She set the ornate carvings on a work table set up in the living room, still refusing to look at him. "I couldn't stand the idea of gluing together splinters, so I did the job the right way."

Nate had forgotten about the baseball game. Every year construction crews from around the county competed in a tournament. The first game was tonight and he'd already given the crew permission to leave early when they'd signed on for the job.

He had no one to blame but himself.

"I'm sorry I snapped," he said.

She shrugged, her back to him. "It's fine. It's not like you're around enough for me to put up with your bad mood."

Nate walked around the work table so he could see her face.

She was so damn beautiful. Even sweaty, with dirt smudging her face, she was the most stunning woman he'd ever known. Sexy as sin and twice as tempting, he didn't know how he was going to let her simply walk out of his life like she'd never been here.

She was in the process of prying a nail from the corbel when he took the tools from her hands and held them captive. She tried to pull away, but he held on tight, refusing to let her go.

"You said you wanted to stay friends. I do too. You're leaving as soon as you can. I figure the less time I spend with you, the less risk there is…"

…of me falling in love with you.

He couldn't say the words out loud. He couldn't give her that kind of power over him.

"Of what?" she asked, frowning.

"Of me being distracted from my work." It was a lie, because he was plagued by distraction because of her no matter how close he was to her. Or how far away.

He wondered how long it would be until he got over her completely—until his first and last thoughts of the day were no longer consumed by her.

She looked at him for a long moment, studying his face. "Then why are you here?"

"I brought you food."

"I told you yesterday that I didn't need more. I appreciate all you've done, but it's too much. And the last thing I want is to take you away from your work. You have people depending on you for their livelihood, not to mention the Ophelia." She lowered her gaze. "You should go, Nate."

He couldn't tell if she was dismissing him because it's what he led her to believe he wanted, or if it was what she wanted.

"At least let me change your bandage before I go."

She shook her head. "I need a shower before a clean bandage will do me any good. I'm too sweaty from working in the heat, and I'm not done working for the day."

"Then I'll join you. I finished all the paperwork and payroll that needed to get done, so I'm free for the rest of the day. It's about time I started putting in some hours here myself. I was going to start in the morning, but now is as good a time as any.

Hanna shrugged. "It's your project. Suit yourself."

She turned her back on him and went to work.

Nate wasn't sure if he should be upset that she was putting even more distance between them, or grateful.

***

Hanna was barely holding it together. After several long days without Nate around for more than a few minutes at a time—and those when the Yellow Rose was crowded with workers—she ached for his company.

The hours they'd spent together gazing at the stars, running bingo games and touring the Ophelia were the happiest she'd had in months. Maybe years. And falling asleep in his arms like she belonged there…it had changed her.

She missed him when he was away. She spent way too much time thinking about him and wondering what he was doing. A million ideas were running through her head about what he could do at the Ophelia, but she had no one around to share them with.

The crew of nail-pounders Nate had hired certainly wouldn't want to hear her yammer about the pros and cons of reproduction vanities or stained-glass panels done in stylized peacock motifs. They wouldn't want to hear about the contacts she'd made over the years who could be called in to consult on the project, or her sources in Detroit with warehouses full of period pieces saved from buildings that were demoed.

She wanted to talk to Nate about his exciting plans, but he'd made himself scarce, and she knew it wasn't just work that was keeping him away.

It was her.

He must have finally realized what his mother already did. She wasn't the kind of woman men like him stuck with. She didn't come from a good home or even a decent family. She didn't have any education past high school, which she'd struggled just to graduate. She didn't have a nest egg to invest in his project, or any hope for one in the future.

All she did was take from him, and after Jack and the way he'd taken from her for so long, she understood why Nate wouldn't want to hang around.

She told herself that it was fine. That she had everything she needed. Declan was getting a replacement part in and hoped to have her truck ready by Saturday. Tomorrow was pay day, so she'd have money to pay him and some left to fill Rex's tank. She had a ton of food to pack in her cooler—enough to last her for at least a week if she was careful. She had clean clothes, a bed to sleep in and a roof over her head.

Nate had already given her so much—a job, food, shelter. He'd even come by every day and tape plastic over her stitches so she could shower, then changed her bandage. She couldn't stand to be the needy, clingy girl after everything he'd done—the one who begged him to take her out to see the stars again, the one who wanted to fall asleep in his arms like she belonged there.

She was leaving in a couple of days. Surely she could hold herself back from being a needy clinger for that long.

And then, once she was gone and Nate was no longer a temptation, she'd move on with her life. She'd go back to the plan that had brought her here, head for her new job and swear off men until she had her life together. She'd settle in, save some money, and then when she was back on her feet, she'd find her own Yellow Rose to lovingly restore. Maybe a few years from now, she'd do well enough that she'd come back here and stay in the Ophelia Grand and revel in what Nate had done to bring her back to life.

That was enough for Hanna—enough to make her happy.

It had to be.

She could hear Nate working upstairs, scraping up the old vinyl flooring in the apartment kitchen. She moved as far away from him as she could and began carefully prying up tiny hexagonal tiles from the smallest bathroom floor on the main level. The chances of removing enough to patch the bad spots in the other bathrooms were slim, but she was determined to save every single one she could.

The work was tedious and slow, but it gave her something to think about besides Nate and all the mixed emotions he created in her. Rather than dwelling on how much she ached for him, she thought about the people who'd walked on these tiles and the lives they'd lived. Instead of wishing she was already on the road, she wondered if a young couple had snuck in here for a stolen moment of passion, fucking hard and fast against the wall with long skirts bunched between them. She imagined that same woman later falling to her knees in front of the toilet with morning sickness, giddy with the news that she would soon be a mother. She pictured tiny toddler feet, wet from a bath, waiting to be wrapped in a fluffy white towel. Later, that same boy's father would have taught him to shave for the first time right here, in front of the sink.

So many lives had gone on here, and while the bathroom wasn't the most glamorous room in the house, it was a place where life happened. It was important, and every little detail mattered.

That's what drove Hanna, what kept her on her knees after they began to ache, and after her hands cramped around the handles of her tools. The history of this place deserved more than a wrecking crew, or to be glossed over with a cheap, modern renovation that looked like every other new house being built.

Whoever had contracted with Nate to restore this place, Hanna hoped that they would appreciate the time, effort and love that would go into bringing the Yellow Rose back to her former glory. Only someone like that would deserve such a rare treasure.

The noise upstairs quieted, but Hanna kept working. If she stopped, she'd start thinking about Nate, and she wasn't yet ready to face her own life. The lives of the imaginary residents she created were far less troubling and way more interesting.

She was almost done with the area in front of the pedestal sink when she felt Nate's presence. She wasn't sure how she knew he was here, but she was certain he was, watching her.

Her hands trembled knowing he was so close. Her pulse sped, and her skin heated in a frenzied rush.

She still ached for him, yearned for his hands on her skin. No other man had left such an indelible mark on her, and she had no idea what she was going to do to get rid of it.

Maybe she never would.

"The motel called," he said from the doorway behind her. His voice was deep and rich, washing over her like warm waves lapping against a sandy shoreline.

She closed her eyes and tried not to sway from the impact his nearness had on her.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"One of the tubs won't drain. My maintenance man is sick, so I have to go fix it."

"Okay," she said, keeping her tone light and breezy, as if his presence or lack thereof didn't matter to her at all.

Even the idea of him walking away made her miss him that much more.

How the hell was she ever going to drive away from this town and not leave a part of herself behind?

"I'll come back after I'm done and help you shower." His tone was tight, almost irritated.

Was he upset about the drain, or the fact that she wouldn't turn around and face him? She couldn't tell, but giving him her full attention right now was too much to ask. If she looked at his handsome face, his sexy body and those mesmerizing eyes, she knew the ache between her thighs would grow. Tempt her.

She couldn't have sex with him again. She'd already been altered enough by his touch to risk any more of the same.

"No need," she said, trying to keep her tone light, like she wasn't purposefully avoiding him. "I can manage."

"How?"

She ignored his question because she really didn't know the answer yet. "I'm going to work for a few more hours. I'm on a roll here."

He was silent for a moment, then she heard a faint but heavy sigh. "You're avoiding me."

She was, but if she admitted it, he'd never leave. And she really needed him to leave. The longer she was with him, the deeper her feelings for him became. A girl with one foot out the door on the way to her shiny new life couldn't afford being anchored by something as silly as feelings. "I'm leaving in a couple of days anyway. It's about time I figured out how to manage showering on my own. I'm sure I'll come up with something."

He sighed again, only this time there was more frustration than weariness. "If that's what you want, I'll leave you alone."

She risked a brief glance at him over her shoulder and wished that she hadn't. The look of pain on his face was a mirror image of what she was feeling. Physical exhaustion and sexual frustration. The anticipation of loneliness. Loss for what they might have had.

Better to end it now, before the fall could destroy her.

"It's what I want," she said, and as she did, some small, fragile part of her broke in two.

She turned away before he could see her pain, but she couldn't hide it from herself.