“I did not cry,” she said defensively, pushing at his shoulder. “Just…this is ridiculous. I can make it home by myself. I don’t need any more help from you.”
Okay, that wasn’t feisty—that was just bitchy—and he took offense to it. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically. “Did my carrying you and cleaning your foot and making sure you didn’t need stitches and then bandaging you up bother you, Princess?”
“Ugh…you really are the worst. I knew you would be.”
She knew he would be? What the…?
“Just tell me which direction your house is so we can get this over with,” he snapped because the sooner he got rid of this chick, the better. It didn’t matter how attractive she was—her attitude ruined it.
“That way,” she said, pointing over her shoulder.
Silently, he stomped along the sand and they hadn’t gone more than twenty steps when she told him to stop.
“Why?”
“Because this is my house.”
Shit.
They were neighbors.
Awesome.
Knowing he still couldn’t just put her down, he carried her up the steps to the deck and then into the house.
And hoped there wasn’t an angry husband ready to punch him in the face for carrying her through the door.
Once they were inside, he put her down on the sofa and looked around. The house was gorgeous—all high-end furnishings and looked like it had been recently renovated. He had no idea what Ryder had in mind for decorating, but he’d love to know who did the work here so he could refer them.
“Um…you going to be okay?” he asked. “Do you need anything?”
It looked like she had a lot she wanted to say but seemed to reconsider. “No. Thank you for getting me home.” She paused. “And for helping me with my foot.”
With a curt nod, Austin wondered if there was anything else he should do when he realized one very important thing. “By the way, I’m Austin Coleman,” he said gruffly, holding out his hand in introduction.
Her eyes narrowed for just a second before she put her hand in his. “Mia Kingsley.”
Her hand was as small and delicate as her foot was—which was a weird thing to be thinking about and comparing—and once again, he felt a little awkward. Straightening, he released her hand and took a step back. “So, um…I guess we’re neighbors.” Another step back. “If there’s anything you need…”
“Did you say your last name is Coleman?”
He nodded and held his breath. Austin didn’t recognize her or her name so he didn’t think they knew each other in any way, but…maybe his reputation—or his family’s—preceded him.
Especially if Mia was a local.
“Why does that name sound familiar?” she asked, but more to herself. Then her eyes seemed to spark with recognition.
Shit.
“As in Coleman Construction? Is that you?”
Wait…what?
“Uh…no. I mean, it’s a family business—my family, kind of—but not me.”
“But you’re obviously doing construction,” she said, frowning with confusion.
This so wasn’t a topic he wanted to get into with a stranger, but he figured he’d give her the Reader’s Digest version and leave.
“My great-grandfather started the business many, many years ago. When he died, he passed it on to my cousin Mallory’s husband, Jake. I’m an architect and I do construction and home renovations from time to time, but…not with the family business.”
“Well that just seems stupid,” she said. “But then again…” She let the statement drop, and for some reason, it irked the crap out of him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” It didn’t seem possible for this tiny woman to be such a huge annoyance, and yet…she was.
Letting out a long breath, Mia studied him. “Which part were you referring to exactly? The stupid part or the other?”
“The other,” he said through clenched teeth.
“You’re very rude,” she blurted out, and before Austin could ask for clarification, she was sitting up straighter and already spouting more. “Why do you have to run power tools twelve hours a day? Don’t you have any consideration for your neighbors? Has it ever occurred to you that some people enjoy peace and quiet or that they need it so they can work or simply hear themselves think? I mean, how hard is it to be considerate? And the music? It’s no longer the eighties, for crying out loud! And maybe your hearing is damaged from all the loud power tools and you can’t hear yourself, but you can’t sing either! Why do my ears have to be assaulted by that screeching every night after listening to the constant screaming of tools all day?” She clearly must have exhausted herself because she collapsed back against the sofa cushions and flung her arm over her eyes.
“Um…”
“Just go,” she murmured. “This whole thing is just…” Rather than finish, she groaned and waved him off.
It would have been easy to just walk out, but now he felt bad. Apparently while he’d been in his own little world, he really hadn’t given much thought to anyone else.
Like that’s anything new?
He worked within the town’s noise ordinance and at this time of year, he really didn’t think many people were living at the beach full-time. Sure, Magnolia Sound wasn’t exactly a vacation hot spot, but most of the big houses on the beach weren’t lived in year-round.
Lesson learned.
Carefully, Austin sat down beside her and waited for Mia to acknowledge him.
And waited.
And waited.
He cleared his throat and that did the trick because at least she turned her head toward him.
“I’m sorry the noise is bothering you,” he said, his own voice low and apologetic. “I didn’t think anyone was living here in the off-season and I should have checked, so…again, I’m sorry.”
She nodded.
Maybe after her little outburst she was out of things to say, he thought.
“What hours do you work?” he asked, hoping they could come to some sort of agreement so he could do what he had to do without disrupting her too much. “I can try to keep the power tool time to when you’re away at the office or…wherever you work.”
“I work here,” she said after a moment.
“Oh. Uh…do you have set hours or something?”
“No.”
Man, she wasn’t going to give an inch, was she?
Raking a hand through his hair, Austin hissed out a breath as he began to lose his patience. Standing, he paced away from her. “You saw the inside of the house. It’s not like I can’t use tools, so…if you’re not going to be reasonable…”
That clearly got her.
“I’m not being reasonable?” she cried. “I’m not being reasonable?! How dare you say that!” She jumped to her feet and cried out before plopping back down on the sofa.
And just like that, he felt bad all over again.
Hanging his head, he knew this was getting them nowhere.
“How about this,” he began carefully. “I will try to be a little more considerate of the tools—I’ll only use them after ten in the morning and I’ll be done with them by four. Will that work?”