He slapped a hand to his heart. “While I’m thrilled to hear you acknowledge our relationship, you also wound me.”
She gave him an amused once-over from boots to cap. “Something tells me you’re a fast healer.”
He grinned. “Let me put it another way. It’s only neighborly if I offer to help you rehang the door.”
Elton’s pickup pulled out on a jaunty toot of the horn, followed by Marta and Billy in Marta’s SUV. They were officially alone together.
“Since you offered to help me fix the door instead of insisting on doing it for me, I’ll take you up on the offer.”
“I am not a stupid man,” he promised. “I was raised by two very intelligent, competent women and two men smart enough to listen to them.”
“Uh-huh. You hold. I’ll screw,” she said, grabbing the drill.
“Look at me not going for the easy punch line,” he said, lifting the wooden door, which was heavier than it looked.
“Just promise me you’re not gonna barf on my porch or take your pants off.”
“I hate to make promises I can’t keep,” he teased.
“Try, Sy. Try.” She fitted a long-ass screw onto the bit.
He held the door in place while she muscled the screw through the hinge plate and into the wood.
“Sounds pretty soft,” he observed.
“Rotted,” she agreed, angling the second screw. “Whole jamb needs replaced. But this’ll hold for a while longer.”
When they finished, he gave the door a test swing from inside. It wedged itself into the frame and required a good kick to seat itself properly.
“Just a little swollen,” Maggie called cheerfully from the other side. After a few good shoves with her shoulder, she forced it open. “More secure than a dead bolt.”
Her optimism was adorable.
“Since I’m already inside,” he began.
She was shaking her head. “Uh-uh. You’re not scaring me into a sleepover. I don’t believe in ghosts, and I’ve already done the research on Kinship’s crime statistics.”
He held up his hands. “First of all, I would charm you into a sleepover, not scare you. But since this is only our second date, I don’t want you to think I’m too easy or too desperate. So I’m gonna check the rest of the windows and doors on this floor.”
She crossed her arms and looked up at him. “That’s funny. I don’t remember us having a first date.”
“Saturday. We had drinks in your front yard. We’re taking it slow,” he informed her, stepping into the front parlor and testing the windows.
“Kinship hasn’t had a violent crime in forever, and over half of what does happen here is attributed to tourists having a little too much beer and too much of a good time,” she lectured as she followed him into the next room.
This one was smaller, cozier, with shoulder-high, dusty wainscotting. He noted the window was unlatched and shot her a “see, I told you so” look. “You’re obviously a highly intelligent woman who does her research,” he said. “Which is why I won’t insult your intelligence by pointing out that your fourth dining room in the back had quite the collection of empty beer cans and Mad Dog 20/20 bottles.”
He winked at her as he stepped around her to cross the hallway. The dining room shared a wall with the kitchen. It had a massive table centered on a dingy bay window that—if not for the decades’ worth of film on the glass—would provide a killer view once the dead trees and overgrowth on the bluff were cleared.
“So the locals don’t have great taste in booze,” she said with a shrug. “It was probably just kids hiding out from their parents.”
“Bad things can still happen even if no one has any bad intentions,” he said.
She followed him into the kitchen and then the sunporch. He flipped the lock on the exterior door and then jiggled the broken latch on the first window.
“It’s painted shut,” she argued, crossing her arms. Immune to flattery. Rather than discouraged, Silas liked to think he was narrowing down the best way to connect with her.
He gave her his best concerned male look.
“And I’ll fix it,” she said in exasperation.
“Good girl.” He swung through the last two rooms on the first floor, noting that someone—most likely Energizer Bunny Maggie—had already cleaned up the evidence of Kinship teens’ taste in shitty alcohol in the corner den. “What are you gonna do with all these rooms?”