I crouched, intervening to the best of my ability. “I’d apologize, but it’s pointless. He’s not ashamed of his behavior, so I won’t be either.”
Evie’s laughter had the same indescribable quality as Wildrose Landing in autumn. I’d spend the rest of my career trying to nail it down. “This is the kind of greeting a person could get used to. Morgan sure knows how to make a girl feel special.”
She glanced at me and her smile faded. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Did I upset you?”
I quirked my head. “How would you upset me?”
“You’re glaring. Hard.”
I’d been trying to catalogue her. To sum her up the way I would a character in one of my books. To find the perfect combination of words to bring out the effervescence bubbling under her surface. The life surging through her gaze, contained by what? Fear? Doubt?
Evie fidgeted and I realized I was still staring. Intensely.
I shifted my focus to the dog. “If I’m glaring, it’s because of work. Or my utter inability to work. Nothing to do with you. Promise. Not being able to write is like not being able to breathe.” Or pay the bills.
I summoned a smile and offered Evie a hand.
Her eyes made promises she wasn’t bold enough to keep. This woman with her hair battling the sun…
She wiped dirt from her hands and allowed me to help her off the ground while I mentally repeated the line, hoping to burn it into my brain so as not to forget it before I got home. How was it that this woman held the key to my inspiration?
“The great Alexander Prescott can’t focus?” Evie blushed and glanced at her feet. “I assumed words and plots and characters flowed out of your fingers straight onto the page.”
“Sometimes they do. Sometimes, an entire day passes with my butt in that chair and my mind in the story and I don’t realize until Morgan drops his food bowl at my feet.” I grimaced as she sat on the bottom step and rubbed his ears.
“Poor Morgan. Mean ole’ Alex making you wait for dinner.” Morgan panted his agreement and leaned into her.
“I thought having him around would stop me from disappearing like that.” I perched on the step beside them. “He helps. Maybe too much right now. And I make up for the days I ignore him by taking him for walks in the pouring rain just because he asked nicely.”
Evie giggled. Her gaze bounced off mine, then settled on the dirt caking her shoes. She brushed it off. “Isn’t getting lost in the flow part of the magic of being a writer? Why would you intentionally keep yourself from it?”
My face darkened. The smile faded. Friendliness leeched out of my eyes. I rubbed Morgan’s ears and willed myself not to scare my new neighbor more than I already had. Thankfully, her gaze stayed glued to her shoes and she missed the monster who dashed across my face, looking up in time to see the hero. After Candace stormed out of my life, claiming I was just like my father and too selfish for my own good, I’d adopted Morgan and sworn off serious relationships. Caring for a dog would remind me there’s more to the world than work, while staying away from commitment would mean one less Prescott man letting people down.
“I have my reasons.” I winked. Yep. That happened. A wink. What was I doing?
“Ahh, yes. Reasons,” Evie said with a quirk of her head and a glint in her eyes. “Something a failed writer like myself couldn’t possibly understand.”
“I’m with your friend on this one. Your unemployed status doesn’t make you a failed writer.”
“But the lack of having any completed books does.”
“I wasn’t going to say it, seeing as how we barely know each other, but yeah. The thing about a writer is…”
“…she writes.” Evie shrugged as she finished my sentence. “I’m afraid of writing. Well, not afraid. Okay, maybe kind of afraid. My confidence took a hit. A couple hits. And now I question everything I try to put on the page.”
Morgan plopped his head into Evie’s lap. She ruffled his ears and leaned in to kiss his snout. His quick glance my way said, “You better make your move or she’s mine, asshole.”
Silly dog. No moves would be made. I would not repeat the mistakes of the past.
I stood, offering her a hand to help her do the same. “I feel like this needs to be said, just in case. I know offering you a job out of the blue is a little weird, especially because I don’t really know what the job will be and we don’t know each other. If I put you on the spot, please don’t feel like you have to accept the offer. I have this habit of really going after what I want.”
And what I wanted were more chances to be around her because somehow, someway, she opened up the floodgates that had been closed for weeks now. Bonus points because I would talk her into working in her kitchen, which would circumvent Brighton’s suggestion of breaking in, something I’d be forever ashamed to admit I tried. After the women left the house yesterday, I used my key, sat down at the kitchen table, considered making coffee, then left, relieved to know my selfishness actually had a limit. After hearing Evie’s name on everyone’s lips, the idea to offer her a job landed with a heavy thwack of “Hey! That could work!”
Evie’s eyes widened. She blinked. Licked her lips. A hard swallow and an open mouth as she searched for words had me realizing what I said could be taken in more ways than one.
Shit, Prescott. She thinks you’re coming onto her. Clarify!
“And what I really want is to drag myself out of this writer’s block in any way possible. I have this good feeling you’re just the thing I need.” Plus, let’s not forget,
