“Of what’s what?” she whispered.
His grip firmed on her arms, and his gaze held hers. “Of what’s real.”
Her heart shuddered. What’s real.
He watched her a few seconds, his gaze drifting to her mouth. The heart she was cursing to stay steady pounded far too wildly in her chest.
Mark cautiously took a half-step closer, and she felt her eyes drifting closed.
She didn’t know how to attach herself to anyone. No more than she knew how to attach herself to any place. The last time she thought she had, she’d failed.
Dalton’s words came back to her: “If I were Rivers, I’d have a hard time keeping things to myself, too.”
She snapped her eyes open and pulled back.
She swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. “You’re important to me, too.” Her thoughts whirled up in a defensive cyclone around her. “But I can’t say I’d follow you into a bathroom if I saw you out with a woman I suspected of using you.” She laughed pathetically. “Dalton was a perfect gentleman the rest of the night.”
Liar. A weight settled in her stomach. Her hands shook as she shoved them in her pockets.
Mark was no longer looking at her. “My mistake, then.” He put his hand on the doorknob. “I’m glad Gainer treated you well.” Then he lifted his eyes. “I’m sorry my sister jumped to conclusions.”
She nodded. “I understand. Small town, right?”
He shrugged. “Blessing and a curse. Are you still coming to Thanksgiving?”
She’d forgotten Thanksgiving. “Of course.”
When he turned, she reached out and grabbed his hand. He looked down at her fingers grasping his.
“Mark, the other night, that was important, and it mattered to me. That was real.”
A smile softened the hardness of his mouth. “Thanks.”
She continued, her voice hushed with caution. “I need a friend right now. I’m not sure I’m capable of more than that. Not with Dalton. Not with anyone.”
He ran the tips of his fingers quickly along her cheek, then dropped his hand. Even so, her heart shuddered, and she begged it to be still.
“Anything you need.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
He stepped onto the porch. “There’s a ceremony at the park on December third, honoring Jay. The day before the tree-lighting in Leavenworth. I’m giving a speech. I could use a friend, too.”
She smiled. “I’ll be there.”
He looked down at the hat squashed in his hands. “Let me know when you want me to mud that wall. We can paint the room, then. I, um, brought you a present. A gift for the house.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to—”
He picked up something red and shiny from beside the doorway.
“You got me a fire extinguisher,” she whispered, surprisingly touched by the gesture.
“Every home should have one,” he said. “I’ll install it whenever you want. Maybe while you’re at school so I’m not in your way. Anyhow, figure out where you want it and let me know.”
“Thank you.” He got her a fire extinguisher. She took it from him, buckling a little under the weight. “I love it.”
He paused, watching her. “If you come up with anything else—”
Her eyes widened again, remembering. “I think I have wood floors under the carpets.”
“Oh,” his weight shifted, his expression brightening a fraction. “Yeah, a lot of these houses do. When do you want to get the carpets pulled up?”
“After the painting, I guess. Pulling carpet is my least favorite thing in a reno.”
“I don’t mind it.”
“Really?”
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s a bully of a job. But tearing up old stuff so you can get what’s underneath to shine?” He set his hands on his hips. “I’d think you’d be all over that.”
She blinked at him, feeling strangely exposed. “Why do you say that?” It’s what she’d been doing. What she’d been doing to him. Maybe what he’d been doing to her, too.
He frowned. “Because of your antiques.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Of course.”
He studied her a moment. “That looks good on you.”
She glanced down at the fire extinguisher in her arms. When she looked back up, he was already down the porch steps.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” she called after him.
He waved without looking back. She closed the door and set the extinguisher down next to the desk. She eyed the rocker and walked over to it, dropping onto the cushion as Mark’s truck roared away. She placed her hands on each mellow oak arm and gripped the wood, rocking back and forth.
Mark. The hero boy who gave her glass doorknobs and fire extinguishers, who brought her not-even-burgers and built her fires when he was terrified of fire—
Had he told people about that night? When he knew her need for privacy? She remembered how she’d felt in his arms then, and just now with that pull between them.
Her hand covered her face, and her rocking stopped. She couldn’t do this now. She couldn’t fall—
She couldn’t fall for Mark. Not in this little town, not now.
She stood and shook away her thoughts. She had a job to do. And she had a lot of hours to spend in Mark Rivers’s company yet. It was good that they’d drawn boundaries.
Boundaries kept her heart safe.
Mark frowned. What had just happened? He’d gone in there worried Riley would be mad that Steph had talked to him, but then things had gotten pretty close. And then they hadn’t.
And then he’d given her a fire extinguisher.
He honked as the Taggart boys crossed the street without looking. They had the decency to look startled and raise their hands in apology.
Mark had meant to ask Riley to attend the memorial ceremony with him—and the firemen’s ball, too—as maybe more than a friend, but with the vibe she was giving off, he’d chickened out. Sure, she said she’d be there, but as a friend. A neighbor. Nothing more.
Although, had he asked, and had she said yes, it
