She needed to change the buckets—as in more than one container? Jared wondered what the hell time she’d gone to bed. How could the leaks possibly fill a damn canister or pot that quickly? “You need to get out of that house,” he growled, feeling even more protective of her because she wasn’t uneasy with him. Obviously, the woman didn’t have the smallest bit of instinct for self-preservation.
“I know,” she agreed forlornly. “But I only have a little while longer to live here, and it’s been my home since the day I was born. And I have no place else to go yet.”
You can be with me. I want you to be with me.
Jared closed his eyes, almost able to feel her pain. His childhood home had been a prison, and he’d been counting the days until he could escape and go away to college. Mara’s situation was completely different. She had loved her mother, and leaving her home had to be difficult. He didn’t completely understand her sorrow, but he could reason it out. And for some fucked-up reason, he could feel her, even though he never let any of his emotions touch him anymore. “It will all work out okay. We didn’t get to discuss business today, but I have a guest house that you can take over, and you can use the house to start production of your products. Hire whatever help you need. Get whatever equipment you want.”
“You want me to live with you? Start my business there?”
Hell, yes.
“You wouldn’t be exactly living with me. The guest house is separate from my residence. We can find the right property eventually, get you a shop. But it would take some time. You don’t have time.” She needed to leave that dilapidated house as fast as possible.
“I’m going to have to show you that I can turn a profit first, before you pour your money into a shop,” she replied agreeably. “I understand that.”
Jared opened his eyes and shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. “It isn’t that. It will take time to find the right place, the right location. Since you don’t have the luxury of time, we can use my place for now.”
“But you aren’t always here in Amesport—”
“I’ll be here for a while,” he cut her off abruptly. Leaving wasn’t an option right now. He had Dante’s wedding coming up, and he had no desire to leave Mara in the middle of her business setup. He hesitated before asking gravely, “Why haven’t you asked me about what I said earlier?” She hadn’t asked him a single question. Even now, when she could easily grill him from a safe distance on the phone, she hadn’t mentioned his history or the secrets he’d revealed. Obviously, he could avoid the subject, pretend like he’d never mentioned it. She was going to allow it. But he needed to know.
Mara sighed. “Jared, what happened in your past isn’t my business. I’m sorry for your pain, and I don’t want to push you to talk about anything that causes you more hurt. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
He scowled. “I killed two people. That doesn’t concern you just a little?”
“No. Whatever happened, I know you didn’t murder them.”
“How in the hell do you know what happened?”
“I don’t know what happened, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen,” she answered gently.
Jared felt like she’d gutted him. “You trust me?” The certainty in her voice when she’d said she knew he hadn’t murdered anybody made his heart clench and pissed him off at the same time. What in the hell was she thinking? He could be a serial killer, for all she knew. Still, knowing that she trusted him enough not to need any explanation of his earlier confession completely blew him away.
“Yes. I trust you,” she answered simply.
“Why?” he asked hoarsely.
“I trust my instincts.”
“I’m a jackass.” He heard it from his siblings almost on a daily basis.
“Agreed. Sometimes I think you act that way to hide your pain. But that isn’t all that you are, Jared. You’re so much more,” she said hesitantly.
“If you’re trying to look deeper into my soul or something, forget it. There isn’t much there. The asshole is pretty much all you’ll get.”
Of all the reactions Jared could have gotten from his comment, the last thing he expected Mara to do was . . . laugh.
But she did.
Continually.
She howled with amusement for a long time, and it really annoyed him that even though she was laughing at him, he loved the sound of her laughter.
“Murderers aren’t usually into self-deprecation,” she said, still half chuckling.
“They could be,” he grumbled into the phone.
She snorted. “Are you trying to make me afraid of you?”
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
“No,” he finally decided. “I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into. I am an asshole, and I’m not about to start looking into my goddamn soul.” Jared shuddered at the thought. It was empty, just like the rest of him. There was no point in even looking.
“I think I can handle it,” she answered a little more soberly. “I can work for a surly boss. And I still don’t think you’re a jerk all the time. I think you’re protecting yourself.”
Jared was uneasy with her observations, so he tried to ignore them. “I don’t want to be your boss anywhere except in the bedroom.” Looking down at his raging erection, Jared had to admit that he wanted her under his control just about anywhere: outside, up against a wall, on the floor, in the shower . . . the list could go on and on. However, it had nothing to do with her business. That he had no doubt she could handle on her own. She’d been holding up a struggling shop for years. Working on a business that could actually thrive should be a piece of cake for her.