Color of Loneliness by Madeleine Beckett Read Free Book Online Page A

ladder in the garage…”
    “I have my own ladder,” he snaps back, cutting her off before he turns and exits the bedroom.
    Frowning, Myra just stands there staring, not sure what to make of the incredibly attractive but seemingly hostile man. She continues standing for a few more moments as she listens to his work boots stomp down the stairs and out the front door.
    * * *
    As Myra waits on the contractor to finish looking at the roof, she sits on the couch, nibbling on her already chewed fingernails. She continues chewing and gnawing on her cuticles until she accidentally makes one of them bleed. When she hears his heavy boots on the porch, her heart rate kicks up a notch. She quickly pinches her finger to stop the bleeding as she stands and opens the door.
    His eyes lock with hers. “Your roof’s in terrible shape. Everything’s gonna need to be replaced, including the decking,” he says, his tone sharp as he reaches his hand up and scratches at his unshaven chin.
    “I was afraid of that,” she says, her eyes still on his. For some reason, she can’t look away. The hostility and harshness in them startles her yet somehow she finds herself drawn to them. She can feel her face warming as her gaze drops to the floor and her fingers play with the sleeves of her oversized sweater.
    “What else?”
    “Um…” She quickly clears her throat. “I’m having a problem with the plumbing. The toilets keep backing up, and the bathtub and shower will probably need to be replaced. We’ll have to go back upstairs,” she mumbles, gesturing towards the stairs. He follows after her again, and she swallows heavily as she opens the bathroom door for him.
    When he steps past her, she doesn’t know where to stand or what to do so she ends up waiting kind of half in the doorway and half in the hallway. She tugs constantly on the sleeves of her sweater as she watches him, feeling awkward and out of sorts.
    “What did you put down this damn toilet?” he angrily mumbles under his breath.
    “Excuse me?” she asks.
    “Nothing.” The animosity rolls off of him in waves.
    Frowning, she continues waiting and watching as he inspects the bathroom. The uncomfortable feeling she had earlier still lingers but now she feels like a nuisance or almost an aggravation to him, which doesn’t make sense because he should be the one trying to make a good impression to get hired for the job.
    Not wanting to make contact again with those hate-filled eyes, she keeps hers focused on his clipboard when he turns to face her. She continues to watch it as he tucks it under his left arm and shoves his right hand into his coat pocket.
    “Anything else?”
    She hums and nods before silently walking down the stairs, holding tightly to the railing. “The kitchen needs work,” she says, as they enter it. “The cabinets are in really bad shape.” She points to the fallen door leaning up against the wall.
    “Do you want to replace them?”
    Pursing her lips, Myra looks around at the cabinets and the worn linoleum on the floor, all of which has to be as old as the house itself. She realizes the whole space needs an overhaul. “Yeah,” she says with a sigh.
    Dylan sets the clipboard down on the counter and pulls a measuring tape off of his tool belt. Myra chews on her fingernails again as she watches him measure and jot notes on his clipboard. When he occasionally tucks the pencil behind his ear, his hair curls around it. Every time he uses the tape measure, he lets it snap back into position, the noise echoing noisily in the silent kitchen. She watches as he does more scribbling with a scowl on his ruggedly handsome face.
    He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is that all?”
    “No,” she says, getting the strange feeling that for some reason he doesn’t want there to be anything else. “I’m also having trouble with the electricity. My lights flicker on and off, and sometimes they just shut off altogether.”
    They make eye contact for a