Romance Rules for Werewolves (Charming Cove, #3)(35)

Her voice was soft, and she was standing so close that her scent washed over me. It took everything I had not to inhale deeply, not to pull her toward me.

“Sure.” I stepped back, putting some much-needed distance between us. “I’ve got some plans for the kitchens and bathrooms I wanted you to approve.”

Delight flashed on her face. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh, my gosh, thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” She gestured to the house. “I can do the easy stuff like tearing out old carpet and even refinishing the floors. Although that’s probably not as easy as I think. But building—or even installing—kitchen cabinets is probably beyond me. At least, if I only have a month to learn.”

“Less than a month now.”

“Exactly. Show me the plans.”

We went out onto the porch, and I showed her what I had in mind for her kitchen. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and it was hard not to feel a little of it myself.

It was odd, but nice.

Don’t get used to it, I thought.

After we looked at the plans, I got back to work. The house occasionally made its displeasure known, popping a floorboard under my feet or slamming a door at my arse, but it was easy enough to ignore. The stench was harder, but even that disappeared eventually, as if the house tired of fighting. Or maybe we really were making if feel better, like Isobel hoped.

She brought me a sandwich at some point, but I was lost in the soothing motion of working with wood. Fortunately, I had everything I needed down at the boathouse for my current project, as well as all the tools required to craft the cabinets. I’d started out in cabinetry years ago, once I’d realized that I needed to work with my hands to find peace, and had only recently made my way to boats.

We toiled until it grew dark. I found lanterns and brought them up to the kitchen so that I could keep going, but we’d need to get the electrical up and working as soon as possible.

“Knock, knock.” Isobel’s voice pulled me out of my trance, and I turned. She’d showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a jumper that hung loosely off of one shoulder, and she was so beautiful that I had to glance away. “It’s getting late.”

“Really?” I frowned, looking down at my watch. It was nearly nine-thirty. Surprise flashed through me.

“You’ve been in the zone.” She held up a basket that I hadn’t noticed because I’d been so distracted by her beauty. “I brought you dinner. And a beer.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, don’t get used to it.” She walked toward the middle of the room and pulled a blanket out of her basket, then laid it on the ground.

“Don’t get used to you bringing me dinner?”

“Or a beer.” She pulled one out of the basket and opened it, then handed it to me. “I always did this for my boyfriend. Every night, dinner and a beer as soon as he got home from work. Then I did the washing up.” She sounded disgusted with herself, and I wanted to know more.

“Every night?” I sat on the blanket when she did.

“Yep.” She pulled two paper-wrapped Cornish pasties out of the basket and handed one to me. It was warm from the oven, and I recognized the distinctive crimped crust of Margot’s Tea & Cake Parlor. She must have picked them up earlier in the day and heated them in her oven.

“If you did all that, then what did the miserable sod do?” I asked.

“Mostly just watched footie and took me for granted, I’m realizing now.” She sipped her beer. “But I’m done with him, and I’ve got a new life. I’m not a doormat anymore.”

“A doormat?” A surprised laugh escaped me. “I have a hard time believing you were ever a doormat.”

“Well, I was. Trust me. But I’m getting better. It’s like I just had to wake up and get out of that old life, you know? He was an expert manipulator, Tommy was. I had no idea how well he’d played me until I’d wasted way too much time on him.” There was a hint of sadness to her voice, and it made something violent seethe inside me.

She looked over at me. “Did you just growl?”

“Um.” Had I? “Maybe.”

“Is that a werewolf thing?”

“Yes.” Although I hadn’t noticed that I’d made a noise. I’d been too busy fantasizing about punching this Tommy bastard. “I don’t like the idea of your boyfriend hurting you.”

As soon as I said the words, I knew they were too much. I should have kept them to myself.

“That’s unexpectedly sweet.”

“Don’t get used to it. I’m a miserable grump, remember?”

“Oh, right.” She smiled. “I almost forgot. But maybe I’m willing to revise that. You’ve been very helpful today.”

“Just trying to get rid of you, remember?” I made my voice gruff, wanting to return to the safety of being a bastard.

“Ah, yes. There’s the miserable grump I remember.” But still, she smiled.

“Good. Don’t forget it.” I finished the pasty and stood. “I’m going to get back to work.”

“It’s late. You should quit.”

“Soon enough.” I spoke without looking at her, hoping she would go. As long as she was near me, it was difficult to stay in my protective bubble. “I’ll see you later.”