Eversea A Love Story

wreck driving back from Savannah.”
    I was proud of my ability to rattle off these facts with zero emotion. “My grandmother passed a few years later of heart failure, so it falls to us. It’s an historic monument of sorts, being that we are the Butlers of Butler Cove, so everyone in town is always complaining that it needs to be fixed up, but they won’t allocate funds to help unless we sell it to the town. Or at least agree to set it up as a museum or something that will help tourism. They know our parents had life insurance money, so they think we should have used that. Except, we needed it for Joey’s college. We still work on the house when we can. Or I do. As I said before, Joey’s at med school.”
    “That’s tough.” Jack looked like he wanted to say something more. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
    “Yeah, well. It’s life, huh?” I smiled to show I wasn’t expecting pity. “So this deal of yours may work for me after all. It will be good to make some headway on the interior stuff. I keep focusing on the outside because that’s what everyone sees. Are you sure it’s still ok?”
    “It’s fine. Sorry I can’t help with the outside, I’d be too conspicuous. I told you I miss the days when I worked construction while juggling auditions. It was good, busy, creative work. A different sense of accomplishment. It’s good exercise, too.” He flexed his biceps jokingly, all his upper body muscles tensing. I found myself scowling at him.
    “Well, I seem to be getting the better end of the deal,” I managed. “Or maybe I’m not, I haven’t seen your work yet.”
    He laughed and ran his fingers through his unruly dark hair. “Let’s just say, I had a ‘day job’ to go back to, if the acting thing didn’t work out.”
    “Ok, well, I’ll quickly go and change and get to the store.” I headed for the kitchen doorway. “There’s a toolbox in the attic. Text me if you think I need to pick up anything for the house. Help yourself to cereal or whatever. Oh, and ... borrow a t-shirt from Joey. Please. Second door on the left upstairs.” And on that note, I bolted up the stairs before I said anything else.
    I locked myself in the bathroom and climbed into a cold shower. Maybe I could shock some sense into my system. Pointing out his shirtless state bothered me was not a smart move, but there was no way I could go another second with him parading around in front of me like that and pretend not to ogle him. He really was just the most arresting specimen of man I had ever seen. Ugh, I was so shallow. I should just tell him right away I didn’t want the help. But it was too ... tempting.
    I had wanted to pull the carpet and re-finish the floors forever. And he could build bookshelves, he said. I was dying to make that parlor into a gorgeous library: a place to curl up and lose myself for a while. Getting a head start on the interior stuff, and free labor to boot, was too much to resist.
    I climbed out of the shower, having scrubbed and washed every inch of myself repeatedly and absently, because apparently my mind was nowhere to be found. I wrapped my wet hair up, pulled my robe on, and scrambled, lest I bump into Jack again, back to my room to get dressed.
    I looked around at the sage green walls and white linen bedclothes. They were supposed to be soothing colors, even though I could barely take it in with my books piled over every available surface.
    I was anything but soothed. I was extremely uncomfortable, both with my shallow, lustful reaction to Jack, and the fact that Jack, a relative stranger, was in my house at all, especially while I had been in the shower naked. I knew I had been raised better than this, I just couldn’t for the life of me figure out how I was supposed to deal with this bizarre situation.
    I pulled on jean shorts and a t-shirt, my staple wardrobe. I combed and pulled my wet hair up in a bun, shoved my feet back into my Keds, and headed back down toward my new bizarre reality.
    * * *
    The Piggly Wiggly grocery store was blessedly quiet. Schools had started back up and the summer crowds had gone home. Most back to Ohio. For some reason people from Ohio loved this part of the country. One would think the drive would be a little much, but apparently someone from Ohio must have had an amazing vacation down here once many years ago and bought some billboards or something when he got home.
    I consulted the list Jack had scrawled out for me. His handwriting was