Don't You Wanna Stay

by Kait Nolan

  Simon and Levi exchanged a look.

  “Uh huh,” Levi muttered. “So the fact that you’ve been smiling more the past month is just coincidence?”

  Wyatt was starting to regret that they’d reached a stage where he could use other folks as help for labor. “Oh, shove it, both of you. It’s not like that between us.” And maybe if I keep repeating it, I’ll agree with myself.

  He was having a harder and harder time keeping himself emotionally distant and business only.

  She was still on his mind when he and his brothers broke for the day. The sun rode low on the horizon as he trekked across the yard. Casper lay just inside the open door of the barn. His tail thumped in greeting, and Wyatt bent to scratch behind his ears, grinning when one leg kicked in ecstasy. He didn’t see Deanna, but given that Casper seldom strayed too far from her side, she had to be in here somewhere.

  Stepping around the dog, he noticed a notebook open on the buffet she’d been lusting after. Curious, he paged through. The whole thing was full of designs and floor plans. He recognized several pieces at the core of her sketches, but he hadn’t imagined they could be so transformed. The possibilities excited him. Her vision was unique and creative, and so utterly her in a way he couldn’t quite define.

  “Oh, hey. Did you need me?”

  Wyatt looked up to see her emerging from a stall further down. “No. The guys and I just broke for the day. Thought I’d come see what you’d gotten into.” He tapped the sketchbook. “These are fantastic. Why aren’t you doing this professionally?”

  An odd mix of pleasure and embarrassment colored her cheeks. “I don’t have any sort of training. I just know what I like. That does not a professional make.”

  Wyatt didn’t like hearing her dismiss her talent like that. It meant something that she could do this, could see this. But God knew he understood imposter syndrome. That was probably more of her family talking. Flipping through the book, he pointed to one of the designs. “Tell me about this.”

  Everything about her lit up.

  “So there’s this old dresser back here in one of the stalls. It’s got a few issues and has seen better days, but I think it would make the best kitchen island. Come see.”

  As he followed her to the back of the barn, Wyatt surreptitiously slid out his phone and hit record, angling it just enough to capture her animated face as she showed off the piece and described the project. He wanted to be able to show this to her later as proof that she did actually know what she was talking about when she didn’t get in her own way.

  “These top drawers wouldn’t be practical, but they could be removed and that whole section repurposed for open storage for large serving pieces or some cool baskets. I’d take off the top and replace it with some of the barn wood we found to make a wider, more appropriate countertop, with enough overhang for barstools. Obviously, there would need to be something to support that overhang. I haven’t figured out what that might be yet. Anyway, I’d cover this back section here with some of the salvaged beadboard from the house, update the hardware with something more rustic, and refinish the whole thing so it looks appropriately aged. Some combination of milk paints, probably. I think it would look fantastic.”

  Her love of the possibilities was infectious. As she spoke, Wyatt found himself wanting to do something for her. It wouldn’t be that hard. He could take the time away from the main project while she was at work this week. The slight delay would be worth it to see the look on her face when some of her vision was brought to life. And maybe it would go some way toward proving to her that training wasn’t everything.

  “That’ll be awesome.”

  Self-conscious again, she bit her lip. “You think?”

  “I know.” Ending the recording, he tapped the phone against his leg, brain already spinning with an idea. “C’mon. Let’s knock off for the day and start supper. I’ve got some kebabs to throw in the grill.”

  “Let me just grab my stuff.”

  As she did, he made a snap decision and sent the recording to Bennet.

  Wyatt: I think we should use this in a future episode.

  It would test his theory about whether fans really were into her perspective. And just maybe it would give her the confidence she needed to consider a change.

  Chapter 10

  Exhaustion dragged at Deanna as she finally turned into the winding drive to Blackborne Hall. All she really wanted to do was fall face first into bed and sleep for fifteen hours. Instead, she was going to change out of her business attire and put in a couple of hours on the house, partly because she was determined to uphold the sweat equity part of her agreement with Wyatt, but also because renovation gave her a sense of actually accomplishing something in a way that dealing with her clients did not. She needed that sense of control more than the sleep.

  The warm glow of lights in the windows lifted some of her sour mood. She parked and got out, pausing for a minute with one hand on the car to try to find some energy for whatever work needed doing. Maybe just removing nails from some of the reclaimed lumber.

  The front door opened, and Casper bolted straight across the yard to greet her with cheerful yips and licks and that happy, happy tail. Crouching down to greet the dog, she felt more of the crap mood evaporate. Had anyone ever been this thrilled to see her get home from work?

  Glancing up, she caught sight of Wyatt on the front porch, his mouth curved in amusement as he watched them. The instant punch of home and yearning stole her breath for a moment. The crash of reality came just as fast. Sure, they’d been playing house for more than a month, but Blackborne Hall wasn’t her real home, and Wyatt was just a temporary roommate, not a partner who wanted to share her life. She needed to remember that. But he had become a friend over these past weeks. After the day she’d had, she could use one of those.

  Straightening, she headed toward the house. “Sorry I’m late. Work was a shit show. I’ll get changed.”

  “It’s fine. Slow down. Have you eaten?”

  “There was half a salad at some point. That counts, right?”

  “Hardly. Come and sit. I’ll fix you a plate. The work can wait.”

  Deanna’s step faltered as she followed him inside. He was going to make her dinner? Maybe she looked as bad as she felt. No help for it now. And what did it matter? They were business partners. Roommates. She’d just be grateful for the consideration.

  Because it was easier than arguing, she trailed him into what she thought of as the lounge. The front parlor housed most of her living room furniture, along with the temporary kitchen. She sank into the welcoming embrace of the sofa. Casper leapt up beside her, immediately curling his skinny, sixty-five pounds into a ball at her hip and assuming the position for pets. Deanna sank her fingers into his fur and lamented all the years she’d given in to Blake’s resistance to having a dog. Just one more thing he’d robbed her of. But at least this she could make up for.

  Wyatt moved around the kitchen, piling food in a bowl and popping it in the microwave. “So why was today a shit show? Did Mercy Lee pull more diva-tude?”

  “For once, no. I’ve been working on a campaign for another client for a few months. The label gave me the themes of the upcoming album, and I ran with it. Everything was designed, scheduled, and ready to go. It launches day after tomorrow. This morning they contacted me to say that everything had changed and, oh, did I mind redoing everything with twenty-four hours’ notice?”

  “Shit. Does that kind of thing happen often?”

  “More often than it should. Not like people can’t change their minds on things, but they often don’t notify us, and then suddenly their inability to plan becomes my crisis. I hate the wasted effort.”

  “Don’t blame you.” The microwave dinged, and he brought over her food. “Here. Eat.”

  She took the plate, inhaling the rich, tomatoey scent. “You made spaghetti and meatballs in here?”

  “It’s freezer meatballs and jarred sauce, so not gourmet, but it’s stupid easy
in the Instant Pot.”

  “It’s perfect. Thanks.” She twirled the pasta on her fork. The moment the flavor hit her tongue, she realized she was ravenous.

  Wyatt came back a couple minutes later and offered her a red Solo cup half full of wine. “Here, you need this.”

  She absolutely did. “Should I be having alcohol if I’m going to prospectively be handling power tools later?”

  “No power tools tonight. You’ve been killing yourself, effectively working two full-time jobs for the past several weeks. We can afford for you to take the night off.”

  The idea of it almost had her bursting into tears of gratitude. She was so damned tired. With a nod, she accepted the cup and sipped, waiting for her throat to ease so she could dig back into her dinner.

  Wyatt settled on the other side of Casper, scratching behind his ears. “Can I ask you something?”

  Still eating, she hummed an affirmative.

  “Your job is stressful and seems generally unfulfilling. Why don’t you go do something else?”

  It was a question she’d asked herself a hundred times, so she took her time answering, waiting until she’d polished off the last bite and set the bowl on the coffee table. “It’s not that simple. I’m basically held hostage because of the alimony I’m expected to pay Blake. I don’t get to just easily change jobs. And aside from that, what the hell else would I do? This is what I’m qualified for.”

  It was far too late to change careers. She’d made peace with that a long time ago. Mostly. Figuring out her career stuff would have to wait until she was free of Blake. There was simply no bandwidth to put toward that right now.

  Abruptly, Wyatt stood up. “I want to show you something.”

  Not waiting for her assent, he grabbed her hand and tugged her up. The feel of his callused fingers wrapped around hers sent a bolt of heat up her arm. There was something electric about him. A vibrating excitement that translated through his touch as he led her back toward the actual kitchen.

  “I’ve had a project I’ve been working on this week. A surprise for you.”

  He stepped aside, and Deanna gasped.

  In the center of the room was an island. Her island. He’d captured her design perfectly. Right down to the antiqued finish and unique reclaimed hardware. He’d added his own touch in the supports for the overhang of the counter. A pair of iron brackets she recognized as the decorative bottoms from some exterior light sconces. Emotion clogged her throat as she stepped forward and laid her hands on the barn wood countertop. It was real. Her idea brought to life by his talented hands.

  “I can’t believe you did this.”

  “You knew it would look stupendous in here. You were right.”

  The satisfaction of that was sweet. It overrode all the sense of wasted time and effort from the rest of her day. She could see in her mind’s eye how the rest of the room would come together and knew it would be gorgeous. He’d done this gloriously lovely thing, just for her. And in the end, she’d have to walk away from it. From him. Because all of this was temporary.

  Tears spilled over, scorching her cheeks. Appalled, she pressed her lips together to try to stem the tide, but she didn’t have the energy to hold it back any longer.

  “Hey, hey. What’s this? Come here.” Wyatt didn’t wait for a response, just pulled her in with those strong, capable arms.

  That just made her cry harder because she so wanted to lean into him, to lean on him in every way because he felt so damned good wrapped around her.

  “I’m sorry. I should have made you a part of the build. Of course you’d want to be involved. It was your design. I just wanted to surprise you.”

  “No, that’s not… This is so wonderful. It’s exactly how I saw it. I just…” She hiccupped and admitted the truth she’d been carrying around for weeks. “I don’t want to sell the house.”

  Wyatt lifted a hand to her cheek, brushing away the tears, his eyes searching her face.

  Desperate to get herself under control, she swallowed. “I know it’s not what we agreed to. I’m not backing out of our deal. I just… The house is going to be amazing. It feels like my dream is finally within reach, and I only get to keep it for a little while. I know that. I agreed to that. I know I have to give it up. It’s just—”

  His palm cupped her cheek, and he lowered his brow to hers. “Don’t.”

  Right. He was a guy. He didn’t want to deal with tears and hysterics. “I’m sorry. You didn’t sign on for this.”

  She started to pull away, but he only tightened his arms. “Deanna.” Her name on his lips was rough, but his touch was so very gentle as his fingers slid into her hair.

  His mouth came down on hers with a sigh that could be nothing but surrender. For a long, humming moment, Deanna was too stunned to do anything but hold on to the fistfuls of his T-shirt. Then the body that had been slowly reawakening around him for the past month simply melted. All the stress, all the worry, all the protestations drained out of her, until all she could think, all she could feel, was Wyatt and the play of his lips against hers. It was as simple and as devastating as that.

  He eased back, pressing his brow to hers again, so they still shared the same air. “Don’t sell the house.”

  Her brain had been liquified, so she could only manage, “What… why?”

  “Because you get it. Because this work, this house, lights you up inside. Because I need to give this to you.”

  Scrambling to make her neurons fire, she pulled back just far enough to look up at him. The intensity in his expression had her stomach flipping. “Why would you do that?”

  His mouth quirked in that charming grin. “If you have to ask, I clearly need to work on my technique.” One big hand skimmed down her spine. “I’m crazy about you. And I knew from day one that you didn’t want to sell. I can’t ask you to give up a part of your soul.”

  God, this man and his big, impractical, well-intentioned heart. “Wyatt, I—” She hardly knew which part of this to respond to first. “It means more to me than I can express that you’d be willing to do that for me. But I don’t see any other way to make this work. I can’t afford to pay you back in any reasonable span of time without selling. We don’t have any other options. That’s how we got into this in the first place.”

  Frustration twisted his features. “Deanna, honey, you have to stop with the preconceived notions of what’s possible. Look at this.” He whipped out his phone and started swiping at the screen. “A few days ago, you said that you didn’t have any sort of training, that you just know what you like, and that doesn’t make you a professional. But look at these reactions.”

  He handed over the phone so she could see. It was the DIWyatt Instagram feed. More importantly, it was her work being highlighted.

  “You posted my sketches? My designs?”

  “Yeah. I know I should’ve asked first, but you’d have said no. Look what people are saying.”

  They’d been shared over four thousand times, and the comments… People were going nuts, wanting instructional posts. Others wanted to know where they could buy something like this.

  Stupefied, Deanna stared. “They… like it.”

  “They love it, and they want to see more.” He took her by the elbows, pulling her in again so she was flush against that muscled chest. “You wrote yourself off before you even gave yourself a chance. You’re qualified to do more than PR. This proves it. And maybe this is a harder road. But it’s the road that’ll make you happy in the long run. The road that’ll feed your soul. So let’s give the house, the show, a real chance. We’ll figure the rest out as we go. Okay?”

  The prospect of keeping the house, of getting to live out her dream, was too good to pass up, even if she didn’t have the first clue how to make all this profitable.

  “Okay.” But that wasn’t the only thing that had come up tonight. “About that other thing.”

  “What other thing?”

  She bit her lip. “The crazy about me thing.”
<
br />   Wyatt sobered. “It’s not a deal breaker. None of this is conditional. I don’t want you to feel pressured or like this is an exchange.”

  Sweet, considerate man.

  Deanna pressed a finger to his lips. “Thank you for all of that.” She stroked a hand along the scruff of his jaw, loving the rough feel of it against her fingers. “But it only seems fair to admit that I’m pretty crazy about you, too.”

  His broad chest rose and fell as he pressed his brow to hers. “Thank God.”

  “Never seen you smile this much, while putting in floors. I wonder what could be the source of that good mood.” Simon’s tongue-in-cheek tone made it very clear he knew the cause.

  Wyatt couldn’t even be annoyed with him. His mouth seemed to be stuck in a permanent grin, despite the ache in his knees and the myriad of details he and Deanna hadn’t yet figured out.

  He shot a row of nails into the reclaimed heart pine flooring they’d elected to use in the kitchen and reached for the next board. “Whatever, man. Life is good. The kitchen’s well on its way to coming together.”

  “And you and your roommate have gotten… close.”

  Yeah, his little brother clearly thought that was a euphemism.

  In fact, he and Deanna were taking things slow. He was fine with that, figuring this time with her was shoring up the foundation of friendship they’d already built. Given her history and their unusual circumstance, he was willing to do whatever it took to make sure she felt comfortable.

  Levi, apparently an equal opportunity ball buster, fixed Simon with a look. “Uh huh. And what about the heart eyes you were making at Fiona Gaffney during demo?”

  Simon suddenly got very busy checking the fit of the next piece of flooring. “So, um, I’ve got a birthday coming up this weekend.”

  “I know we’ve been pushing hard, but I don’t plan to make you work on your birthday.”

  “I appreciate that, but that’s not actually where I was going with this. Pru and the girls are throwing me a birthday party, having kind of a mini-reunion. I know you weren’t actually at Joan’s when I was, but I wondered if you’d come.”