to her seemed to contradict that, but maybe he’d even been lying about going to a fire. Maybe he’d needed to get out. Maybe he’d just wanted to have sex with her one more time before he left her, evening out the score.
The last part, she knew, was her imagination throwing darts at her. Bo wasn’t like that—she didn’t think so anyway.
But he hadn’t come back and he hadn’t called.
She had too much pride to chase him, so instead, she discussed the combination of earth tones and brighter colors for her first-floor rooms, the lighting, and how it would all work together.
Then she carted it all home, spread drop cloths everywhere and started to work. There seemed to be so few things she could control in her life, but the color of her walls was one that she could.
Thankfully, since she’d never really hung anything on the walls, they didn’t need any fixing or repair, and they were already painted the dull beige, so she didn’t need to prime. She was good to go, and the tension that had been dogging her began to ease as she rolled on a nice cinnamon-brown that reminded her of Bo’s eyes.
Cursing, she wrenched the roller away from the wall and ended up splattering paint down the front of herself, including on her face.
Safety glasses hadn’t seemed necessary for painting, but good thing she’d worn them anyway.
Sighing, she sat down on the plastic-covered floor, using a rag to wipe some of the splatter off. As she looked at the huge array of paint cans she’d brought home among the other various supplies, her head dropped into her hands.
What had she done?
She wasn’t sure the question was about the paint binge—not completely.
Just then, the doorbell rang, and she popped to her feet, peering out the window before she opened it. She wasn’t expecting anyone.
Bo.
She seriously considered not answering the door, but he’d seen her look from the window and offered a short wave.
Pulling open the door, she stood in the open space rather than inviting him in.
“Hi.” His smile was warm. Sexy.
Sure it was.
“Hi.”
Long. Awkward. Pause.
“Um, can I come in?
“Sure.”
He stepped inside, moving past her. Normally, a guy might kiss his girl hello when he showed up at her house, but they weren’t like that, were they?
“Painting?”
He took in the supplies and drop cloths with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah. I thought it was time to personalize the place a bit.”
He checked out her face and her clothes, visually tracing the cinnamon-brown streak from cheek to thigh.
“The paint fights back?”
She smiled stiffly and crossed her arms in front of her. “Why are you here?”
He blinked, looking slightly taken aback by her abruptness.
“To see you. And also to see if you had time to go somewhere with me.”
A date?
“Where?”
“A fire site. I’d like you to look at it with me.”
Okay, so not a date.
“Why?”
“I’d rather not get into details, but do you have time?”
He looked at the paint again.
“I have to clean up.”
His gaze followed her curiously but he didn’t stop her as she stepped around him, heading for the stairs. She didn’t want to acknowledge the disappointment that he hadn’t come here to see her. It was only business.
She put it aside and took a quick shower, washing the paint off and putting on clean jeans and a shirt. She didn’t worry about what she threw on, as it obviously didn’t matter.
When she returned downstairs, not more than a half hour later, the entire wall she’d been working on was painted. A first coat anyway. Bo was sealing up the paint can.
He didn’t have a speck of cinnamon-brown on him.
“You finished it.”
“There wasn’t much left to do on this wall. Nice choice of color. Warms up the room. There are enough windows in here so it doesn’t darken it down too much.”
“Thanks, I liked it, too.” She felt stupidly pleased that he approved of her color of paint. “I’m ready if you are.”
“Are you okay?”
He stood in front of her, blocking her route to the door.
“Sure, why?”
“You’re not making eye contact, and you’re being very...cool. Even for you.”
Erin blinked. Even for her? What did that mean?
She put her hands on her hips and looked him fully in the face, making sure she made total eye contact.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I was wondering why we had this big talk three days ago, then you slept with me and ignored me ever since. You haven’t even picked up the phone.” She shook her head, disgusted. “Other than that, nothing’s wrong at all.”
He actually had the gall to look mildly surprised. Maybe more so at her frankness, but Erin wasn’t in the mood to be coy.
“I’ve been at the office or at the fire site for the past few days and most of the evenings. I... You never would have noticed before. You knew about the work. It was never a question when one of us was working. There were no expectations. And now... I just, well, I didn’t even think about it.” He shook his head, still seeming perplexed. “I’m sorry about that. I got into the job, and I didn’t think.”
Erin was unsettled at how quickly her anger dissipated, confusion and anxiety taking its place. She didn’t know what to think because he knew the rules, and she didn’t. She’d thought they’d fight, but that was what couples did. And they weren’t a couple—not really.
“You’re right. I have no claim on you that way. You don’t have to explain anything to me. It was just...confusing.”
He came up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back against him. She still held herself stiffly, though, as much as she wanted to curl into his warmth.
“I’m sorry, Erin. I got to the site, and work took over. It’s like that. I have to immerse myself in it to do the job well. But I should have called, at least. Though to be honest, I didn’t think you’d care.”
“I don’t. I mean, I cared, but for all the wrong reasons. I feel so stupid. I thought it was me. That you were avoiding me, or that you changed your mind.”
“No way. I’m sorry you thought that,” he said as his arms came around her in a tight squeeze.
She was embarrassed that her eyes stung as he held her. His body was solid and safe, and Erin accepted the comfort. Needed it.
That probably wasn’t a good thing, but it was what it was.
“This sucks. I hate feeling this way.”
“How?”
“I don’t even know myself. I think, if I could remember, I’d really be angry at myself for being this needy. I don’t think I was like that.”
“No, you weren’t. Ever.”
The way he said it sounded like there was more there.
“I