Her stupid heart skipped a beat. “It’s rude to eavesdrop,” she said.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping.”
She searched his expression for the truth but couldn’t determine whether he was being honest or not. He was good at hiding his feelings when he wanted to. “Good,” she finally said, deciding to believe him, “because I wasn’t talking about you, anyway.”
Wyatt laughed. Laughed. And then he crouched on the balls of his feet and held out his hand to Woodrow. “Come here, little man.”
Wriggling in joy, Woodrow followed the demand.
Wyatt looked him over good, gave him a very careful body rub, working around his bandages. Woodrow’s eyes rolled in ecstasy into the back of his head. “He’s looking good,” Wyatt told Emily. “You did a great job with him the other night.” He rose up to his full height, looking disturbingly wonderful with Woodrow in his arms.
The dog licked him from chin to forehead, and Wyatt pressed a kiss of his own to the top of his head before setting the wriggling pup back on the ground.
Emily started to walk past Wyatt into the building, but he stopped her, a hand on hers. She looked up into his face. His hair was still damp, undoubtedly from his morning shower. It curled around his ears and at the nape of his neck. He’d shaved, and she . . . ached. She wanted to press her face into his throat and try to inhale him up. She had no idea what she’d been thinking, because she couldn’t imagine being just co-workers now that she knew how it felt to be in his arms. The problem was that she knew he wasn’t the guy for her. Not just because he wasn’t on her plan but because Darcy had said so and he hadn’t disagreed. He never lied, never misled, never misspoke. She could take him at his word.
Always.
A comfort.
And now, a nightmare.
He stepped close, until they were toe-to-toe, waiting until she tipped her head back to look at him. “If getting attached is the worst thing you do while you’re here,” he said quietly, the teasing light in his eyes gone, “that’s not such a bad thing.”
“You said you didn’t eavesdrop.”
“It’s not eavesdropping if a person’s talking to herself.”
“I was talking to Woodrow.”
He smiled at her and she was hit with another wave of longing for him that nearly took her out at the knees.
“I’ll be in surgery this morning,” he finally said. “You’re scheduled to shadow. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Is your shoulder—”
“Fine,” he said.
Not that he’d tell her if it wasn’t fine. He liked to chide her for keeping to a plan, but he’d kept himself a virtual island. He held the door open for her and Woodrow.
They were greeted by Gertie and Jade, who’d returned the night before. Woodrow sat patiently while Gertie sniffed him for the second morning in a row, taking a long time at his bandages. Woodrow’s tail was wagging with an air of hopefulness that made Emily’s throat tighten. When Gertie was done, Woodrow licked her.
Gertie licked him back, flopped to the floor, her hundred plus pounds shaking the place.
“Bed hog!” Peanut yelled.
Emily had put flyers up throughout town, and on several online bulletin boards as well. She’d gone by her neighbor’s house twice but no one had been home.
Jade handed her a stack of messages and watched Emily flip through them. Lots of people had called, wanting to adopt Woodrow. But no one had claimed to be his owner.
“You gonna adopt him out to one of the people who want him?” Jade asked.
“Can’t. He’s not mine.”
They all looked down at her feet. Woodrow was sitting on them, eyes bright, tongue lolling.
Jade snorted. “Uh-huh.”
Emily looked at Woodrow and felt her heart squeeze. Yeah. He was hers to the bone. She looked at Wyatt, who was back to giving nothing away. If the thought of losing Woodrow killed her, it was nothing compared to what she felt over imagining herself losing Wyatt.
But he was no more hers than Woodrow was. And she needed to remember that.
Three days later, Wyatt was spending his Friday night on the Victorian’s roof, a tool belt around his hips, earbuds in his ears blasting loud enough to drown out the voices in his head.
The voices in his head belonged to his sisters, who’d had the blowup of all blowups earlier, over a trip to Target of all things.
Zoe had taken Darcy there on the way home from her PT appointment, and it had gone bad when Darcy got Zoe kicked out of the store. Exactly how this had happened was anyone’s guess since neither of them would say. Wyatt had decided to escape the tension by knocking something off Darcy’s never-ending to-do list.
The roof had been leaking over the attic’s overhang and into the pantry for months. Maybe years. He’d just finished nailing down a new panel when a car drove up. From three stories up he watched Emily and Woodrow alight from her car.
Something clenched deep in his gut. For three days, they’d been perfectly professional at work, in sync.
He’d hated every moment of it.
He saw her look to his truck parked in the driveway, and then at the ladder leaning against the house. He saw her gaze follow the line of the ladder to the second-story roof, where he’d shimmied up the patio awning to get to the very top level.
Her mouth dropped open.
Far below him, he heard the front door open. He couldn’t see who’d done so, but he was betting on Zoe.
Darcy never bothered to answer the door.
Emily and Woodrow disappeared inside the house.
“That can’t be good,” he said out loud.
“Sincerely doubt it.”
He nearly startled right off the fucking roof at the sound of Darcy’s voice. She was in the attic, her face level with his as she peeked out the window she’d opened. “Jesus,” he said. “What are you doing up here?”
She shrugged.
“How did you even get up here?”
“I have my ways,” she said.
She’d walked. Or crawled. Or hell, maybe she’d flown her broom. The woman had amazing staying powers when she set her mind to something.
“So why’s Emily here?” she asked.
“Dunno,” he said. “How did you get Zoe kicked out of Target?”
“Shockingly easy,” Zoe said from behind Darcy as she came into the attic as well. “She grabbed a case of condoms and randomly dropped individual boxes into people’s carts when they weren’t looking.”
Behind Zoe came Woodrow. Attached to the end of his leash was Emily, and she choked out what sounded like a horrified laugh.
Wyatt, on his knees on the roof, shook his head.
“That’s not why,” Darcy said.
“True,” Zoe said. “It was because you also set every alarm clock in Housewares to go off at five minute intervals.”
Darcy smiled. “Still not why.”
Emily stared at her. “How long were you in there?”
“Half an hour,” Zoe said, tossing her hands up. “I was grocery shopping!”
“You weren’t,” Darcy said. “You were lingerie shopping. And I don’t know why, he’s not worth it.”
Wyatt blinked. “He who?”
“Never you mind,” Zoe said, and pointed to Darcy. “This is about her. When the manager put an announcement over the loud speaker to watch out for the crazy chick in the motorized wheelchair wreaking havoc on the store, Darcy put her hands over her ears and screamed ‘The voices are back!’”
“Hey,” Darcy said. “This is what we do, we humiliate each other in public, it keeps us humble. And I humiliate Wyatt, too. Remember the last time he had a date over? We told her how he didn’t potty train until third grade?”
“Which was a lie,” Wyatt said.