and walls, like black shadows crawling across the paint. The ceiling itself was pretty much torn out. The plaster that had first rained down on them when Griffin pulled the fixture free was nothing compared to what the firemen had done to contain the fire.
Gaping holes stared back at her when she looked up, as if the house itself was glaring at her accusingly. Plaster dust and water, congealed into a heavy paste, littered the worn counters, and the floor was covered in the stuff.
“Oh. My. God.”
She wanted to cry. And scream. And grab a shovel and a broom and start returning her world to normal. But as her gaze studied what was left of her ceiling, she knew it was going to take a lot more than elbow grease to get this job done.
“House is dirty!” Connor shouted, clapping both hands.
Instinctively, she tightened her grip on her son.
“It’s a wreck,” Griffin pointed out unnecessarily.
Nicole stood in one spot and did a slow turn, letting her horrified gaze take in the destruction. For the first time, she understood completely what the phrase her heart sank was referring to.
“I don’t even know where to start to clean this up,” she murmured, shifting a look through the open doorway into the living room. That room hadn’t entirely escaped, either. Furniture had been pushed aside and puddles of water had gathered on the hardwood floor.
For one second, she remembered the last time her house had been flooded, when her pipes sprang a leak and Katie had rushed over to help, dragging Rafe King along with her. It was the first time she’d met Rafe. And now, here she was, her house was flooded and yet another King was on hand for the occasion.
“You don’t have to clean it up,” Griffin said from behind her.
“You see anyone else signing up for the job?” It would take her hours, she thought miserably.
“We’ll get a cleaning crew in here,” he suggested.
“I can’t afford that,” she argued.
“Well, you can’t do it alone, and I’m not doing it,” he said.
“Who asked for your help?” Nicole’s temper, already frayed by the fire, began bubbling.
“Not you,” Griffin said and folded his arms over his chest. Shaking his head, he blurted, “You wouldn’t ask for help if you were neck-deep in quicksand and sinking fast, would you?”
“If you think that’s insulting, you’re wrong,” she told him. “I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years.”
“And because you can do it, you should?”
Connor squirmed again and rather than keep trying to hold on to him, she stalked past Griffin and walked out into the backyard. At least here she wasn’t surrounded by what was left of her house. The cloying smell of wet smoke wasn’t choking her. And she wasn’t as tempted to sit down on the ground and cry just for the hell of it.
Setting Connor down, she watched him race off to the flowerbed and his beloved shovel. Sunlight played on his blond hair and his sturdy little legs pumped with his eagerness to get back to playing.
When Griffin walked up behind her, Nicole didn’t even look at him. “I know you’re trying to help, but it’d really be best if you just went home.”
“Right.” He moved to stand in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. Those blue eyes of his were fixed on her, daring her to look away. So of course she didn’t. “You really think I’m just going to walk back to the house and hop back into the hot tub? Adventure over? End of story?”
“Why not?”
He laughed shortly. “I think I was just insulted, but we’ll let that one go for now. What I can’t figure out is if you’re really this stubborn or if it’s an act for my benefit.”
Stunned, she stared at him. “Why would I do anything for your benefit, Griffin?”
“Just what I was asking myself,” he muttered. “But if you’re serious about this, it’s just as crazy. I’m not going to leave you here alone with a two-year-old in the middle of this wreck.”
She wasn’t sure why he was upset. It wasn’t his house that had caught fire. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“Well, then, you should decide it. How are you going to manage with no power? No kitchen?”
Nicole didn’t have an answer for that. Yet. She’d figure something out, though. She always had. Her gaze shifted to Connor, sitting in the shade, singing to himself as he piled dirt from the flowerbed onto the grass. Everything in her softened and toughened up at the same time. She would do whatever she had to. For her son. “This is my house, Griffin. Where else am I supposed to go?”
“Next door with me.”
“What?” Her gaze shot to his.
He pushed one hand through his hair and this time Nicole was so stupefied by everything else around her that she barely noticed the flex of his muscles or the dip of his board shorts at the movement.
“The fire was my fault.”
“True,” she said, then shook her head when he winced. “I mean, no. It’s not. Not completely.”
One black eyebrow lifted and she idly wondered how people managed that. Then she sighed. “You were trying to help.”
“And burned down your kitchen.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I didn’t say you had helped. I said you were trying.”
He smiled, too. “Look, Rafe and Katie’s place is huge.”
“I know,” Nicole said. “Ever since they got married, Katie complains that she’s never sure what her house is going to look like from one day to the next. Rafe is always adding something or tearing something else out and building bigger …”
She’d never envied Katie the financial security she’d gained by marrying into the King family. But sometimes, late at night when she was alone, Nicole silently admitted to being jealous of the love Katie had found. The security of knowing she didn’t have to handle everything on her own. She and Rafe were so good together that Nicole couldn’t help wishing that somehow, someday, she might find that same kind of love for herself.
Of course, her romantic history read like a Greek tragedy, so she’d accepted the fact that the chances of that happening were slim to none.
But, she had always consoled herself, she had her son. Her business. Her home.
Well, until today she’d had a home. She looked over her shoulder at the house that wouldn’t be livable for weeks.
“Nicole, you know it’s the best answer. Hell, the house is so big, we won’t be in each other’s way.” Griffin moved in closer. “You can’t stay here. It’s not safe. For you or for Connor.”
“Probably not …”
Clearly exasperated, he asked, “You really want to live in a hotel while this place is fixed?”
No, she really didn’t. Not only was the thought of trying to keep her nearly three-year-old son contained in a tiny hotel room exhausting, but there was the cost to consider. She couldn’t afford to fix the kitchen and live in a hotel.
“Besides,” Griffin added, “this way, you’ll be close by while they’re working on your place and you can stay on top of things.”
True. All true. But she hated owing someone. She took care of herself and her son and she’d done a damn good job of it, if she had to be the one to say it. Depending on someone, accepting favors from anyone, was just something Nicole didn’t do. Not anymore. Not since her ex-husband had taught her the hard way that the only person you could