Free The Heart of a Hero by Barbara Wallace Page B

Jake eventually wrangled it under control. He didn’t have to pull the tarp back; tomorrow he would only have to put it back into place. Through the living room window he saw Zoe on the sofa, typing away on her laptop. Her hair hung around her face. Every so often she’d comb it back from her eyes. His eyes traveled to the Barcalounger, his mind harkening back to her body swaying close to his. She’d smelled like lemons. Would her skin taste like them, too? The therapist at the VA used to suggest sucking on lemons to anchor himself during a flashback. What do you want, Jake?
    No. He wouldn’t go there. He’d meant what he said, about wanting to be left alone. He didn’t want Zoe bopping up his ladder with sandwiches. He didn’t want to “talk” with her or think of her as anything but the woman who hired him.
    So instead he stood in the rain and wrestled with the plastic tarp, letting the rain cool his overheated skin.
     
    The next morning, Zoe found herself still decidedly not thinking about her neighbor as she made her way to the hardware store to order a bat house.
    “Take a couple days,” Ira told her. “We don’t stock ’em in the store. You mind?”
    Zoe shook her head.
    “Good to know. Some people aren’t so patient about waiting.” He grabbed an order pad from underneath the counter. “By the way, you find that handyman of yours?”
    He’s not mine, Zoe thought. He’s not anybody’s. Then she realized what the manager meant. “If you’re talking about Jake, he’s at my house scraping shingles off the roof as we speak.”
    His dark figure had appeared on her roof just after dawn. Zoe had not studied him through her rearview mirror as she drove away. “In fact, he’s the reason for the bat house. He found some droppings.”
    “Good man. Does good work. I’ve hired him myself more than once.”
    Zoe couldn’t help herself. “You know Jake well?”
    “As well as anyone on the island I suppose. He’s pretty private. Keeps to himself.” He cast an eye at her over his order pad. “Why do you ask?”
    “Curious, is all,” she replied. Seemed like too vague a word, but she couldn’t think of a better one.
    “Well, like I said, he’s a pretty private person. I’m sure he’s got a good reason.”
    Meaning she’d get no more information from him. “Yes, I’m sure he does.”
    To be honest, she understood the reticence. The small year-round community naturally would be protective of one another, especially when it came to newcomers like her. Then again, it was possible, given Jake’s barriers, Ira knew as little about her handyman as she did.
    Her handyman. Second time today the phrase crossed her brain. Like before, she immediately issued a correction. Jake didn’t belong to anyone. Especially her. Not that she wanted him to belong to her anyway.
    There was no silhouette on the rooftop when she pulled into her drive, only tar paper and bare wood. She parked the car and headed toward the backyard, where she swore she could hear Reynaldo barking. Rounding the corner, she saw Jake attaching the dachshund to his dog run. Her stomach fluttered at the sight.
    Because he was being nice to Reynaldo, not because she was relieved he hadn’t left.
    Rey was doing his usual circling and pirouetting around Jake’s legs. “Hold your horses,” he wassaying. “Let me get you clipped up. There. Go bother the chipmunks for a little while instead of me.” With a sharp bark, Rey trotted off toward the back end of the yard.
    “See he’s got you trained, too,” she said, announcing her arrival.
    He turned, causing the sunlight to hit his face just right, and light up his eyes like emeralds. Brilliant beyond belief, they somehow managed to look sad and wary at the same time. The effect shot straight through to her heart, and she felt a tiny lurch. He might not want friends, but she was looking at the eyes of a man who needed them.
    “Deliveryman came and he started barking his head off,” he said.