#HotAndHandy (Keeney Builds #1)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

G etting into a car using only her left hand wasn’t easy. The sound of an engine drew her attention as Vincent pulled into the driveway, which was narrow at the entrance and then widened so that three cars could park abreast in front of the garage. It worked out that he always parked to the right, Hilary to the left, and Iris went straight up the middle and parked in the garage itself. Hilary angled her body so her back was to Vincent as he made his way to the tiny house.

She hadn’t spoken to him since the day she’d moved in. After the visit from Iris, she thought about leaving the beer outside his door as a peace offering but hesitated for too long, and the window for the peace offering closed. She’d kicked herself for being stubborn, but speaking to that beautiful young man, let alone apologizing to him, was more than she could handle. It was best she stayed away from him. While she didn’t speak to him, she knew his routine. She knew the sound of his vehicle. She knew he looked after Iris. She knew he filled out his jeans better than any man had a right to .

Throwing herself into her new job was a great distraction. Her colleagues at Keeney Community College welcomed her and seemed genuinely pleased to have her there. The job was more creative and less repetitive than managing a dental office. Her evenings she spent organizing her new home. Finding suitable places for her belongings and relishing a space that held no trace of her ex-husband. However, her gaze was repeatedly drawn to the small house across the yard, and she wished she hadn’t been so quick to judge. When she’d finally unpacked her books, she’d unintentionally put together a pile for him. Now, they sat on a chair, mocking her every time she passed by. She’d get around to giving them to him one day.

Fortunately, he did not appear to be in the mood for small talk, as a chin lift was all he did to acknowledge her. Something must have caught his attention because he was beside her the next moment.

“What the hell happened?” Vincent stared at her right hand. Wrapped in a blood-soaked towel, Hilary held it upright as if she were pledging allegiance.

“Oh! Hey.” She turned to face him. Attempting to shrug, she swayed instead. “It’s no big deal. It’s just a—”

“Don’t you dare say flesh wound!” Vincent said as he clasped her by the right elbow and managed to liberate her car keys and propel her gently toward his truck. “How about I drive you to the urgent care.”

“That’s where I was going,” she grumbled. Her stomach swooped as he helped her into the truck and buckled up the seat belt. She convinced herself it was because of blood loss and not the way he smelled, a combination of wood and leather that was distinctly his, or the look of concern on his handsome face.

“Wait here,” he ordered and raced off to his place, leaving the truck door open .

“Do I have any choice?” Wincing, she closed her eyes and laid her head back against the headrest. Her day had started well; she’d finished a project at work, stopped at a produce stand, and was spiralizing a zucchini when her hand slipped, and her thumb made contact with the blade. The damn thing wouldn’t stop bleeding. Now, she was being rescued by Vincent. Ugh. The embarrassment was worse than the throbbing pain.

The rustling of plastic made her open her eyes. Vincent was placing a grocery bag over her hand and wrapping it around her forearm. He then secured it with duct tape.

“Seriously?”

His mouth was tucked in at the corners like he was holding back a smile that could escape at any moment. “What? It’s good enough for the astronauts, and I can’t have you bleeding all over the company truck.”

She smiled back at him. He was so close she could see a tiny circular scar above his right eyebrow. Chickenpox, maybe? Hilary ducked her head, knowing he was taking in the myriad of wrinkles on her own face. “I think that’s good. Can we go?”

Vincent straightened. “Sure,” he answered, his tone clipped.

They made the trip to the urgent care clinic in silence.

V incent slumped in the hard plastic chair, hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees. The place smelled like disinfectant and desperation. Or was that just him? One leg bounced up and down as he stared at the floor, oblivious to his surroundings and focused on Hilary. Sitting in his truck with her eyes closed, she’d looked so fragile. Blood on her shirt and soaking through the towel, he was afraid she’d pass out. He was prepared to carry her into the clinic, but she brushed off his assistance, clearly not wanting him to touch her. But, oh, how he wanted to. Wrap his arms around her and keep her safe from whatever it was that scared her. Because she was scared of something. Why else did she hide in her house? And why else had she reacted so strongly to the photo album?

A pair of pink Crocs entered his line of sight. He looked up. It was the clinic’s receptionist, holding a clipboard and smiling politely. “Mr. Banks? Your wife is almost done. I’ll take you back to her.”

Vincent looked at her in confusion before it dawned on him that she was talking about Hilary. He hadn’t known her last name was Banks. He stood and wiped his hands down his pant legs. “She’s not my wife. We’re umm…neighbors.”

“Oh!” The smile on the receptionist’s face got bigger. “Well then, Mister…?”

“It’s Ortiz. Vincent Ortiz.” He met the receptionist’s frank perusal as he made his way through the swinging doors leading into the clinic’s exam area. Hilary sat on an exam table, cradling her right arm, hair a mass of messy curls, face lined with either exhaustion or pain. She looked up at his approach, the lips of her generous mouth pressed together in a thin line. “Thank you for waiting,” she said softly, standing with slow, deliberate movements.

Vincent checked himself from rushing forward to assist her, not knowing how she would react, so he shoved his hands in his back pockets and shrugged. “No problem. Ready to go?”

She nodded and made to grab her purse but hissed when her bandaged hand hit the table. He snagged the purse handle with one hand and Hilary’s elbow with the other. A zing went up his arm with the contact. Had she felt it, too? Because her mouth had rounded into an O, and her green eyes were wide as she looked up at him. He stood lost in their depths until the receptionist’s voice broke through to him.

“I’ll get the door for you,” she said, shoulders slumped as she looked back and forth between Hilary and Vincent.

“Thank you,” Vincent didn’t let go of Hilary until she was safely in his truck.