The Haneys: What You Do To Me Part 25

"Hey," one of his neighbors said, coming to stand beside him. "You're the hero of the day. I'm Mariah Estrada," she said. "Thanks for pounding on my door."

Hero of the day? He let the words trickle through him. "No biggie."

"I've seen you around. You live in the apartment beneath Kenzie's. I guess you heard her alarm go off, huh?"

Wyatt nodded. Kenzie. Kenzie Malone. He liked the way the syllables rolled around in his mind. The mysterious Ms. M had a name to go with his fantasies, a name that would lend itself well to a heroine in his comic books. He'd give her superpowers in the next story.

"You gonna introduce yourself? I know you only as 'Hoodie Guy,' because you always have that sweats.h.i.+rt hood up even when it's hot out. Like today."

Heat crept up his neck. Did the rest of the residents know him as Hoodie Guy too? Great. At least the hoodies he wore in the summer were lightweight with short sleeves, or sleeveless. Still, his neighbors probably thought he had a few screws loose. He couldn't help himself. The hoods were a habit he couldn't break. That's all. Glancing at her, he expected to find derision. Instead, her espresso eyes held only warmth and a teasing sparkle. "Wyatt Haney," he told her.

"I'm a nurse at Fairview Riverside Hospital," Mariah continued.

Not knowing how to respond to that, he nodded again, and other neighbors drifted over, thanking him for alerting them to the fire. He tried to edge away, and even pulled out his phone, pretending he had important texts to read. What he wanted right now was to go into the apartment above his to see where the fire had been and to discover the cause.

He couldn't though, not without Kenzie's permission. His heart thumped. Dammit, he'd find a way to ask her, because if he was right about what caused the fire, Wyatt intended to raise holy h.e.l.l.

All he had to do was find out which insurance company to contact, and he'd mention the many letters he'd written. He'd even provide copies. Then he'd have his family's company, Haney & Sons Construction and Handyman Service, bid on the job to make the repairs and to rewire the entire building. The outlets weren't even grounded, for cripes sake.

His heart thumped again. Harder this time. If he got the job, he'd be spending time in his pretty neighbor's apartment. If he had any luck at all, she might be there some of the time too, and maybe . . . just maybe . . . he could muster up the courage to ask her out.

Kenzie unlocked the back door to the apartment building and propped it open with one of the tubs of clean, folded laundry. She returned to her car to help Brady out of his booster seat before grabbing the second tub. "Let's get these things put away, and then we can go to the playground at the park."

"What's that smell, Mommy?" Brady asked once they were inside.

She sniffed, and a p.r.i.c.kle of concern traipsed down her spine. No, don't borrow trouble. There were twelve apartments in the complex, not counting the caretaker's-giving her a one-in-twelve chance the smell came from her apartment. Since she hadn't cooked anything that morning, used her curling iron or burned any candles, the odds were in her favor the smell was not coming from her apartment.

"Smells like somebody had a fire earlier. Let's go, buddy." She climbed the back stairs, struggling to prop the tubs against the wall so she could open the door, when it opened without her. Her downstairs neighbor held the door for her and Brady.

"Thanks." She smiled. Though she'd been curious about her hooded-but-good-looking neighbor, smiling and the occasional "hi" were as far as they ever got.

Most of the folks in their building were friendly, but this guy kept to himself. Just as well. Though she couldn't deny the attraction, between school and single parenthood, she had no time for anything else. She was far too busy to pay heed to the loneliness filling the odd moments she found to think about such things.

"There's been a fire," he said, his face turning red. "In your apartment."

Dammit! So much for the odds. Of course the fire had been in her apartment. That's just how her life unfolded. The minute she believed things were going great for a change, BAM-an accidental pregnancy with her unemployed boyfriend. A few years later . . . BAM again-she's a war widow and a single mother at the ripe old age of twenty-two.

Obviously life saw her as its own personal soccer ball to kick around, because not long after losing her husband, she'd lost her job. The only factory in her small town had closed, and . . . BAM. Now there'd been a fire in her apartment. At least the building hadn't burned to the ground. She still had a home. Didn't she?

Why couldn't fate or Mother Nature or whatever go pick on somebody else for a while? She tried to dislodge the lump of self-pity clogging her throat. Everybody went through rough patches, but her patches had turned into acres. What on earth could've started the fire in her place?

Her neighbor took the tubs of laundry from her. She was too stunned to react for a second. "How bad was this fire?"

"I don't know. I'm Wyatt Haney, by the way. I called the fire department when I heard the alarm." He nodded toward the stairs. "I was hoping you might let me take a look inside."

"How'd you know I wasn't home to call the fire department myself?"

"Your apartment is right over mine. I heard you leave earlier this morning."

"Oh." Kenzie frowned, and Brady grabbed her hand. "Why do you want to look at the damage?"

Wyatt took a long breath, and his face turned a deeper shade of crimson. Was he painfully shy, have some kind of an anxiety disorder, or was she just really that scary? Maybe she gave off warning pheromones: Stay away, because if you're in my proximity, s.h.i.+t will happen.

"I've written more than one letter to the owners about this building not meeting electrical code," he told her. "The wiring is really old, and the outer covering is showing its age, cracking, splitting. If this was an electrical fire, I want to know." He s.h.i.+fted the tubs and propped them on the banister. "I'm an electrician."

"Ah, I see. Sure, you can take a look if you want. I'm Kenzie Malone, by the way," she said, glancing down at her son. "And this is Brady."

Wyatt smiled and held out his fist for Brady to b.u.mp. "Hey, little dude."

Brady smiled and b.u.mped Wyatt's fist before moving closer to press himself against her legs. Her five-year-old had always been shy with people he didn't know. "Thanks for calling the fire department and for carrying my laundry."

Wyatt really was a handsome man, especially when he smiled. She liked the striking combination of tawny blond hair and dark brown eyes, not to mention his angular face and straight nose. Plus, he was tall. She was five feet nine herself, and she appreciated a man she could look up to. Though he was on the slender side, Wyatt's shoulders were broad. Very broad, and he was well proportioned, nicely put together, and . . . Stop. It.

She started up the stairs, hyperaware of Wyatt's masculine presence behind her. In what shape had she left her apartment? She did a mental inventory: Dishes in the sink, toys strewn all over the living room floor. What kind of mess had the firemen made? Argh. Wyatt was willing to carry her tubs of laundry upstairs, and that made letting him take a look worth it, no matter how messy her place might be.

"You don't use the machines in the bas.e.m.e.nt to do laundry?"

His deep masculine voice caused a tummy flutter. "No. The two was.h.i.+ng machines here are really old and kind of funky. Besides, if I go to a Laundromat, I can do all my loads at once," she said, turning to look his way, finding his gaze on her backside. "Saves time, and I don't have to run up and down stairs all day."

She'd caught him checking her out. It had been way too long since she'd wanted to be checked out. A section of the ceiling outside her apartment had been torn down, and scorch marks spread out like fingers against the exposed wood beneath. White residue covered the blackened areas and the carpet below. The smell of burnt wood a.s.saulted her senses.

Her door had obviously been attacked by an axe, but someone had reinstalled her deadbolt above the wrecked part. The caretaker? Doubtful.

She stuck her key in the lock. "My legs aren't long enough for this," she muttered to herself.

"I beg your pardon?"

Kenzie shrugged and cast him a rueful look. "Don't you ever feel like you're running through life, trying to stay a few steps ahead of trouble?" She arched an eyebrow. "No? Well, I do, and my legs just aren't long enough to run that fast."

"Ah. I get it." One side of his mouth turned up as he set the tubs of laundry on the floor. "I reinstalled the deadbolt for you. You'll need a new door, but at least you can still use the lock until the insurance company settles and you get a new one."

"You called the firemen and moved the lock for me? Where was Floyd while all this happened?" Their caretaker was pretty much useless, and this only proved the point.

"No clue."

"You ought to send an invoice to the landlord." Kenzie steeled herself for what she might find, and walked inside, Brady's hand in hers. Wyatt followed.

"Yuck. Stinks in here," Brady said, pinching his nose.

"Yeah, it does." Kenzie opened the windows in the living room wider, before joining Wyatt to survey the damage. The ceiling in the dining area was now a gaping hole, and her table and chairs were covered in debris and more of that white residue. "I've had nothing but trouble with that light fixture. Bulbs make this weird zzzzt noise and blow out like every few days. Another one went out this morning. I told Floyd about it, but of course nothing was done."

"Mmm. The circuit was left open." Wyatt pointed to the light switch she'd left in the on position after the bulb had burned out. "Exposed electrical wires arcing started the fire," Wyatt muttered, walking around the table with his eyes on the blackened ceiling.

"So, if I'd flipped the switch to off, the fire wouldn't have happened?"

"Not today, but eventually."

"At least it's not dripping wet in here. What a mess that would've made, what with the plaster and soot. Would've ruined the wonderful oak floor."

Wyatt took his phone out of his back pocket. "Water and foam are dangerous in an electrical fire. They're conduits."

"Oh." She ran a finger through the residue on her table and rubbed it between her thumb and pointer. The stuff felt like talc.u.m powder between her fingers, only smoother. "So, what do firemen use to put out fires like this?"

"Dry chemicals, like PKP, or they use carbon dioxide." He glanced sideways at her. "My guess is, it's going to take several weeks, maybe months before things get settled with the insurance company." He took a picture of the ceiling. "Do you have a place to stay in the meantime?"

"No." Kenzie's chest tightened. She had enough to deal with as it was. Having to look for a new apartment, packing and moving would definitely be more than she could handle right now. She'd already been through that nightmare once during her two-year program. The rent at her last place had gone up so high, she'd been forced to move. She leaned against the built-in oak buffet. "Why can't I stay here?"

Wyatt shrugged. "I guess you could, if you don't mind the smell and the destruction. The fire marshal is the one who will make that call, though. No family nearby?"

Why did that question cause him to blush again? Was he phis.h.i.+ng for personal details about her life? He went back to his picture taking, studying the screen on his phone before taking another.

"Nope. They're all in Iowa. I came to the Twin Cities to go to school." She could've gone to school in Iowa and saved herself some money by living with her folks. But the truth was, she'd been eager to get away from her family, especially her clingy in-laws, and she'd always wanted to live in a big city. Besides, after all the BAMs she'd suffered in the past few years, she wanted a fresh start somewhere new.

"I have less than six months to go before I graduate as a dental hygienist. My life will be more manageable if I stay here despite the smell and the hole in the ceiling." Now that she got a good look, this mess didn't really qualify as a BAM, more like a bam. The landlord's insurance would take care of the damage, and she could live with a torn-up ceiling for a while. She'd be done with her program in December, and then she could get a really good job. Dental hygienists were in demand, and she'd done very well in her program, which would earn her great references from her instructors.

Once she earned a decent living, she'd look for a nicer, more up-to-date place to live. Maybe a townhouse complex in the suburbs, one with a pool and a playground for Brady. Somewhere in a good school district, because her baby would be starting kindergarten next fall.

She studied the chunks of ceiling all over her floor, but then her gaze snagged on Wyatt and traveled up his tall form as he took pictures from every angle. All serious like this, he looked way too studly, entirely masculine. He studied the ceiling, a determined set to his angled jaw. s.e.xy. Definitely s.e.xy. How nice would it be to wrap herself around his lean form, and . . . Down, hormones. Sit. Stay.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket. "All right if I see where you still have power and where you don't? Since you're going to stay, we might have to rig a few things."

We? He didn't know her at all, and she didn't know him. Should she be worried about him in her home? What motivated him to help a perfect stranger? Well, not perfect by a long shot, but she was a stranger. He seemed nice, and he had put her deadbolt back on her door, which showed genuine concern. During the months she'd lived here, no police officers had ever come looking for him. Her gut told her he was safe. Surely the fact that he kept to himself had more to do with shyness than felonious tendencies.

"Be my guest." She followed him as he checked the fridge and flipped switches.

"Kitchen power's out. Do you have any extension cords?"

"I think so. Two maybe." Wyatt continued to check the rest of her place. Thank heavens she'd changed the sheets and made the beds this morning. She didn't want him to know what a total slob she was when it came to that stuff, but making their beds every day had never made sense. Why bother when you were just going to unmake them again that night? The only time she made the beds was when she changed the sheets or when she was expecting company.

Someone knocked on her door, and she left Wyatt to the task of turning lights on and off. Maybe their caretaker finally decided to make an appearance.

Brady got to the door before she did. "Who's there?" he called, as she'd taught him.

"It's Mariah, and I brought pizza."

Kenzie opened the door and let her in. "You are the best neighbor ever." She and Mariah were both single moms, and they'd become good friends from the first day she and Brady had moved in. "Thanks for bringing pizza. I don't have any power in my kitchen. I guess I missed all the excitement this afternoon, huh?"

"You're welcome, and yes. You missed the thrilling evacuation of our building and the sight of hunky firemen running around." Mariah set the pizza on the living room coffee table. "I also brought beer. I figured you might want one after coming home to find a mess," she said, lifting the six pack.

"Where's Rosie?" Brady asked. "Can she play with me?"

"Rosie is with her daddy on the weekends." Mariah tousled Brady's mop of blond hair. "Remember? She'll be home tomorrow afternoon though, and the two of you can play then."

Brady nodded, and went back to his superhero action figures, his favorite toys.

"The electrical is on everywhere except the kitchen and the bathroom." Wyatt strolled into the living room. "Where do you keep the extension cords?"

"Oh. Look who's here, our hooded hero." Mariah grinned. "Join us for pizza and beer?"

"Uh . . ." He glanced at the door leading to the hallway, looking as if he might bolt.

"Please stay, Wyatt. I'll get the extension cords." Kenzie headed for the walk-in closet by the front door. The huge storage s.p.a.ce was one of the reasons she'd chosen this apartment, that and the elegant woodwork and the great neighborhood. They were only two blocks from terrific biking and walking trails, and a block from a nice park with a playground for kids. She rummaged through a cardboard box of stuff and pulled out her two extension cords.

"Pizza and a beer sound great," Wyatt said from the closet door. He glanced at the cords in her hands. "These aren't going to work. Too short, but you can use them for your toaster and coffeemaker. I have something you can use until you can get a cord of your own. I'll be right back."

"Thanks." He was out the door before she even finished speaking.

"Can I have pop with my pizza, Mommy?" Brady had his Superman and Spiderman dolls clutched to his chest.

"You can have milk."

He shrugged, his expression one of abject disappointment. "Chocolate milk." She compromised, and Brady graced her with a cherubic smile.

"It took a fire to bring Hoodie Guy out of his sh.e.l.l." Mariah grabbed a roll of paper towels from the kitchen counter. "After he called 911, he herded us all out of the building. He had a fire extinguisher in his hands, and he was the last one out."

"Oh?" Kenzie found paper plates and set them on the counter. She grabbed milk and chocolate syrup from the fridge. "I wouldn't say he's out of his sh.e.l.l. The poor guy turns scarlet if you even look at him." She shook her head. "Poor guy. I'm grateful he was home to call the fire department, and he also moved my deadbolt." She mixed Brady's chocolate milk and put the ingredients back in the dark fridge.

"I know. I helped by handing him tools and offering an extra set of hands while he worked. I tried to chat him up, even though he hardly spoke three or four words. Not much of a talker, but he's hot, that's for sure."

Kenzie chuckled. "He's definitely hot." Hot or not, she'd never felt drawn to shy silent types. Besides, she didn't have any desire or time for a man in her life right now, so what difference did his hotness make?

Her gaze touched upon the shadow box on the wall, the one holding the folded flag from her husband's casket, along with his formal military picture, name and rank. Regret and sadness gripped her, and all the happy plans she and Bradley had made for their future together came back in a rush. She still missed him, still railed at the unfairness of it all. They'd barely gotten started on their lives together when everything came cras.h.i.+ng to an end. The day the two men in uniform showed up at her door had been the toughest day of her life. BAM.

"I'm hot, too," Brady piped in. "Can we turn on the window air?"

Kenzie shared a grin with Mariah, mentally thanking her little boy for once again turning her thoughts away from her sorrow. "Not now. Only when it's eighty-five or above."

The window air conditioner blew fuses if any other electrical appliances were on, even the vacuum cleaner. Wyatt was right. This place was an electrical disaster. Even she knew there should be circuit breakers instead of fuse boxes. She'd spent a fortune keeping herself in fuses and lightbulbs. Thanks to her downstairs neighbor, only the dining area had suffered damage today. Things could be a whole lot worse.

"It's obvious Wyatt is painfully shy, and it's clear he's self-conscious about the burn scars on his neck." Had he been in the military too, like her husband? Maybe he'd been close to an exploding IED, and that's how he got the scars. She and Mariah carried everything to the living room and set it on the coffee table.

"You should flirt with Wyatt," Mariah said, taking a seat. "If I wasn't already seeing someone, I'd be after him myself."

Kenzie set a place for Brady and lifted him onto the couch. "We don't know that Wyatt's not already involved, and I'm not interested. Being a single parent and trying to get through school are enough."

"It's been two years since you lost your husband, Kenzie. Going out on a date now and then would do you a world of good. I'll even . . ."

Wyatt walked into her apartment before Mariah could finish. He had a long coil of bright orange industrial-size extension cord looped over his shoulder. Mariah had stopped midsentence. Even Brady had stilled. All eyes turned to the hot guy in the hoodie. Had he heard any part of their conversation?

"What?" he muttered, his face once again turning crimson.

"Pizza and beer, that's what. We've been waiting for you. My fridge can wait a few minutes. Let's eat this pizza while it's still hot." Kenzie scooted over to make room for him.

Maybe if she made an effort to be his friend, she could help him get over his shyness a little bit. Stop. She didn't know anything about him, and he wasn't her pet project. Who did she think she was, anyway?

Mariah nudged her with her elbow and whispered, "I'd even babysit for free."

"Like you'd ever charge me," she whispered back, shaking her head slightly. "Not going to happen," she mouthed. Nope. She had her hands full, and no matter how hot Wyatt might be, she was not interested in dating or fixing him. Didn't mean she couldn't be friendly though, and she owed him. Kenzie smiled and patted the spot beside her on her ratty old, smoke-scented couch. "Join us."