All That You Are by Stef Ann Holm Page B

didn’t tell me she saw you.”
    With that lopsided grin of his that just about unraveled every stitch of common sense she tried to keep knit together, he said in a drawl, “Did you ask her?”
    â€œWhy would I ask anyone about you?”
    â€œI thought maybe you’d be curious.”
    â€œI’m not. Now get down from there, dammit. You’re going to fall then sue me for damages and I’m not paying you a cent.”
    â€œI’ve never fallen off a roof in my life, and I’m not billing you for a thing, Dana. You won’t have to worry about the roof leaking anymore.” He sank his hand inside one of the pouches on his hip, then showed something between his fingers. “I’m using galvanized roofing nails with rubber washers, and waterproof Malarkey roofing tar. It works when it’s wet.” He grinned. “Just like me.”
    â€œGet off the roof, Moretti.”
    Ignoring her request, he replied, “I’ve got about another half hour’s worth of work left. Go inside and dry off.” Then, lifting his chin a notch, he added, “I like the hat, Indiana. Now take a hike like a good girl.”
    Beside herself over him giving her orders, she stood for many long seconds, staring at him. His gall dug under her skin, but also she felt the shame of relief seep into every pore.
    She should have called Leo to climb up and yank Mark down, but it would be so nice not to have the roof leak.
    â€œWhy?” she called to him, not understanding the motivation for such generosity.
    Hammer in hand, he paused, rain running off his slicker and the bill of his cap. His eyes were dark, unfathomable. “Why didn’t you tell me that was your son’s toothbrush?”
    Caught off guard, she said nothing. She didn’t owe him any explanations about her life, now or ever. How he’d found out was not her concern. Easy information. But the notion that he’d been asking, or making inquiries, did somewhat affect her balance.
    â€œGo inside, Dana. Grab a cup of coffee and warm up. I’ll be done here soon enough.”

CHAPTER SIX
    C OOPER B OYD’S BLACK Jeep Wrangler parked next to the curb, and Dana stepped away from her lookout spot at her home’s picture window. Her ex-boyfriend being fifteen minutes late didn’t ruin her elation. Filled with smiles, she looked forward to Sunday evenings when she got her son back for her week.
    Opening the front door, she breathed in the air’s clean scent, thankful no rain had fallen today. She’d been able to wash off the layers of grime from her Chevy S-10—which had been running great ever since Mark fixed the battery terminals.
    She wouldn’t spare a moment now to think about him. She’d done enough of that last night after he’d been on her bar’s roof and taken care of that for her, as well. While her many questions about his motives had been parked, she did plan on revisiting them later.
    Walking down the steep front steps toward the street, she went to the picket fence to wait for Terran.
    â€œHey, Terran!” she greeted, happiness in her heart.
    â€œHi, Momma.” His voice was slightly sullen, as if he were in a pout over something.
    Cooper opened the Jeep door, and a big brown Lab stuck his face out from the backseat. The dog gave areverberating woof, its body shaking from an enthusiastic tail wag.
    â€œRiley. Quit,” Cooper said, ruffling the dog’s head. “You gotta stay here.”
    Terran sniffed, the kind of nose-wrinkling sniff belonging to a crabby little boy. Through rubber lips, he murmured, “How come I can’t borrow him, Daddy?”
    â€œBecause Riley lives at my house, buddy.”
    â€œHow come I can’t live at your house?”
    That innocent-enough question caused Cooper’s hazel eyes to lift and lock onto Dana’s.
    Gone were any emotions that she’d felt for this man, but she could still catch