by Jen Peters
An hour later they had a plan. The rental tools would be available late the next day, and they could keep them for a week—at Justin’s place, not the mansion—until they got replacements. For now, they’d work the old-fashioned way with regular hammers and screwdrivers.
They slogged through seven tedious hours of work until the framing crew called it a night. Cat and Justin headed straight for the restaurant. After scarfing down Ruth Anne’s smothered pork chops, Cat patted her stomach and stood. “I’ve got to swing by my room,” she said. “See you in the morning.”
Justin’s eyes narrowed. “Swing by your room? Don’t you mean go home and sleep?”
Cat huffed. “No way am I leaving the mansion alone all night long. Who knows what else the thieves are going to do if they think they can get away with it?”
Justin pulled himself to his full standing height. “You’re not sleeping there by yourself. What are you going to do if they do break in again? Bat your eyelashes at them?”
It was Cat’s turn to glare. How dare he? Who did he think he was, telling her what she could and couldn’t do? She put steel into her voice and ice into her eyes. “First, I can throw a pretty mean wrench, not to mention hammer. Second, this is my project, and I’m responsible to make sure nothing else happens. And third,” by now she was poking him in the chest, “third, you’re not the boss of me. Got it?” She jabbed him once more for good measure and stalked out of the restaurant, ignoring his look of surprise.
She gathered some bedding and dog food from Mrs. V’s, stopped at the store for Cheerios and orange juice, and dug in her glove compartment for her big flashlight when she got to the mansion. She was still fuming—having it out with an overgrown lug of a man had kept her temper up for a while—but she did have to smile when she remembered the bewildered look on his face. She supposed he got to boss his sister and maybe even his mom all the time. Well, he had a few lessons coming to him if he thought he could treat her that way. If they were going to have a relationship, he had to know he couldn’t boss her around.
What was she thinking? Despite the feelings she had working around him day in and day out, she could not tie herself down. And besides, she didn’t even know if Justin felt the same electricity she did. Maybe he only wanted to hold hands when they were exploring abandoned mines.
“Come on, Bella,” she sighed, patting her thigh. The dog was already at her heel as she trotted up the front stairs. She settled the thick quilt on the floor of the dining room, and Bella promptly made herself at home in the middle of it. “Well, thanks, dog! And where am I supposed to sleep?”
Bella looked up at her with soft brown eyes, and Cat didn’t have the heart to push her off completely. She nudged the yellow-furred lump a little off center, lay on the too-hard floor under the quilt, and braced herself for a long night. It wouldn’t be the first night she had camped at a job site, but that didn’t mean she’d enjoy it.
All the tensions of the day—keeping the crews going, wondering about the thefts—finally eased when her thoughts drifted to her co-builder.
What if they did have a romance? Assuming, of course, that Justin had the same feelings. Could they work together? What would happen when she left?
And she was leaving. She’d start looking for the next place in another few weeks, so she’d have something to move on to. Except that with the referral from refurbishing the mansion, she’d hope for a higher end project. Another restoration instead of just a quick rehab and sell.
No, she couldn’t afford to fall in love with a funny, chivalrous work partner. Couldn’t afford for those eyes and that smile and that laugh to fill her heart. Couldn’t afford to lean on those strong arms.
Her thoughts cut off abruptly as Bella jumped to her feet with a low woof! Cat scrambled for her flashlight as someone pounded at the door. She flicked the beam on and made her way to the front.
Justin.
Cat flipped the dead bolt and jerked the door open, wondering if she had dreamed him here. Justin pushed through with loaded arms. “I’m not letting you stay here by yourself,” he stated before she could ask what he was doing.
“You’re not what?” she croaked.
“I’m bunking here too.”
Bella padded over and sniffed the sleeping bag and lantern he held. Cat crossed her arms and stared him down. “I don’t need any help.”
Justin snorted. “And if they come back?”
“I have a knife under my pillow.” She didn’t mention that it was just an old Boy Scout pocket knife.
He looked her up and down. “A little thing like you? They’d overpower you in a second. Unless you have a gun?”
“I don’t need one. I have Bella.”
At which point Bella stretched her neck out and licked Justin’s hand. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Cat without blinking.
She worked her jaw back and forth. Justin. Romantic dreams. Forbidden dreams. “Fine,” she finally said in clipped tones. “I’m in the dining room. You can have the foyer.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Whatever. Like you said, you’re the boss.”
Chapter 9
The foyer gave Justin the most uncomfortable night of his life. Never mind that he had a sleeping bag and pad to cushion him and Cat had only a single quilt. Never mind that he’d been known to sleep through a raging storm.
The hardwood floor had pressed against bony knobs he’d never known he had, Bella had snored and whuffled, and with his mind on high alert, he had gotten up every hour or so to take a turn around the house. And Cat?
Cat seemed to sleep like a baby, hard floor or not. And she snored, too. Softer than her dog, and kinda cute, actually. He wondered what she’d say if he mentioned it.
On second thought, remembering her temper the night before, he’d better not.
She was quite the tough lady, different from anyone Justin had ever known. Behind that beautiful, freckled-dusted face was a hard shell, hard enough to make him wonder what her life had been like. She hadn’t opened up much about her past, but she’d let her guard down a few times, and he’d seen a gentler side of her.
He’d loved the moment of her needing him when she gripped his hand in the old mine. And her laugh when she joked with his sister—he could listen to that laughter the rest of his life. But feisty? And temperamental?
This wasn’t a woman to mess with.
He understood a lot of it—his own temper wasn’t much better. If he were superstitious, he’d think this whole job was cursed. But since he didn’t believe in curses, he was just furious that they had a crime spree going on in town, and somehow the mansion was the target.
He actually hoped the thieves would try again. He’d love the chance to shove his fist into a guilty face. On the other hand, were they smart enough to realize he and Cat were sleeping there? And that his own place was therefore empty and ripe for the picking?
There was nothing he hated more than feeling helpless, unless it was actually being helpless. He’d spent a pitch-black hour listening to the wind sigh through the trees and plotting how to catch these guys. Then the next hours up and down checking on things.
Cat finally stirred just before dawn. “Man, what a lousy night,” she murmured, sitting up in the twilight.
“You?” Justin smiled at her sleepy face. “You didn’t even stir when I walked through the house half a dozen times.”
He had the pleasure of seeing her jaw drop nearly to the floor. She shut it quickly, though, reaching over to pet Bella. Maybe she thought she was disguising her reaction. Then she stood and stretched.
With her arms over her head, her t-shirt raised just enough to show a tiny strip of tanned skin over a tight belly. And her pajama pants—silly flannel things with hearts all over them—didn’t do nearly enough to hide her shape. Her hair was tangled, and one strand was stuck to her cheek, but he didn’t care. He had to remind himself that he shouldn’t be admiring her fit body, didn’t have time to get to know that quicksilver perso
nality, couldn’t afford to get distracted.
And besides, no matter the sound of her laughter or the warmth of her hand, what was the point when she’d be leaving in a couple months?
And then he got proof that he really didn’t know that quicksilver personality. She rummaged in a grocery bag and pulled out a box of Cheerios, a carton of orange juice, and a styrofoam bowl.
“I’m hungry. Want some?” she offered.
He watched incredulously as she poured the juice on her cereal and dug in with a plastic spoon. “How can you eat that?”
“It’s good,” she said, keeping her lips mostly closed around a full mouth.
“Juice? Don’t people usually put milk on their cereal?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes I’m in places with no refrigerator, like here. And I like juice.”
“You are weird, Catherine Billings. And before you make me weird too, I’m heading across the street for a real breakfast.” He wasn’t going to mention that the cereal/OJ combo was rather endearing when it included her.
Cat swallowed her mouthful and wiped a dribble of orange juice off her chin. “I’m going back to Mrs. Vanderhoof’s for a shower and coffee. I’ll meet you back here—we’ve got plans to make.”
While Cat seemed content to spend the morning making phone calls and checking measurements, the energy raging through Justin’s body demanded more activity. He headed for the corner porch and reveled in prying broken rails off with a crowbar, enjoying the squeal the old nails made as they pulled through. Replacing the boards with his regular hammer reminded him of the stone age, but his frustration pounded each nail in with two blows.
Stuck with using old, slow tools, his mind skittered around. They had thieves in town who thought the mansion was easy pickings. And there was Cat, going blithely about her work totally unaware of the effect she had on him. He pictured her brows furrowed in concentration. Her laugh at something a sub-contractor had said. The half-skip she used going down the stairs.
Frustration? Oh yeah, frustration with himself for not being free to pursue a relationship until the restaurant money problems were solved. Frustration that she would be leaving in a couple months—what did this town have to hold her anyway? Frustration at being powerless to change any of it.
He gave the last nail another whack and gathered the old, broken pieces. He dumped them out back and headed inside, grabbing a stray board end on the way.
“Cat!” he called.
Not in the dining room, not in the kitchen, not in the foyer. He tromped up the stairs, calling again.
“In here,” came her reply.
In the turret room, where else? “I wanted to ask you…”
“Yes?” she said warily, staring at his hands.
He looked down, only realizing then that he was thwapping the 2x4 piece into the other hand. Geez, it looked like he was threatening someone. He dropped it with a thud.
She looked at him, her body tense. “You wanted to ask me something?”
A sense he couldn’t name quivered in the air between them. “Yeah, I, uh…”
“Yes?”
“Family picnic on Sunday?” he managed to get out. “Church first?”
She closed her eyes. He cringed—she couldn’t even look at him.
Then she opened them and those blue eyes were smiling. “I’d like that.”
Still tongue-tied, he gave a short nod, then turned back for the porch. That was all right, then. Sunday.
Chapter 10
Cat stared at the mirror in her room, trying to adjust to the image of herself with her hair down, a touch of mascara and lip gloss brightening her face. She’d rather be in a ponytail and not worry about chapped lips. Why had she ever agreed to go to church with Justin? To actually dress up for something?
Oh, yeah. Because she wanted to see if what she was feeling might be reciprocated. Because she liked the idea of spending more time with him. And his family.
She liked the appreciation in his eyes when he picked her up, liked the way he held her hand as they walked into the small, white chapel. She hadn’t been to church since childhood, but the slacks and jeans scattered amid the skirts told her it would be casual. She was okay except for people staring at her, and she didn’t know if it was because she was a newcomer or because she was with Justin.
She shoved them out of her mind and slid across the pew to Robin. The songs were more contemporary than the traditional one the neighbors had taken her to occasionally, and the pastor seemed nice. Not a hellfire-and-damnation sermon, anyway. More about love and helping others.
She started out paying attention, she really did. The warmth from Justin’s body was rather distracting, as were the vibes she was getting as she sat close to him. She studied the calluses on his hands, the way the hair on his arms turned reddish in the light.
She had liked watching those arms as he joyously worked the last few days, once they’d picked up the rental tools. Arms flexing as he drilled holes in the studs or attached electrical boxes. Arms casually leaning against the fireplace while she was touching it up. She didn’t dare look at him now. Or at Robin, who kept giving her sideways glances and grinning.
Cat warmed at the sense of belonging, even as a friend, to this family. She followed along with the song lyrics displayed on a large screen above. Justin smiled down on her, and her joy rose. She belted out the words as soon as she caught on to the tune.
She glanced down the pew as they finished, only to see Justin’s mother with her head bowed. Had she been praying while everyone else sang? Did people actually do that?
The service was finally over, and the family congregated on the lawn near the parking lot. Robin talked to a friend about movies and dogs—dogs always came up in a conversation where Robin was involved. Her friend pulled her long black curls behind her shoulders again, shook her head, and left.
“Drat,” Robin said, linking arms with her brother. “Rachel can’t come this afternoon.”
Justin grinned. “So only one of the Three Rs? That just means there’ll actually be potato salad left for the rest of us.”
Robin slugged him and Cat chuckled.
Then she blinked back tears.
Would it be possible someday to have a family like this, one where they supported each other, joked together, hung out because they liked each other?
Someday.
In the meantime, she was sure there was a picnic waiting for them with a whole lot of fantastic food. She whipped her hair into a ponytail and prepared for some fun.
The next two hours were filled with fried chicken, potato salad, and Frisbee golf. Cat sent her Frisbee in a gentle arc and watched it lofting down into the last basket. “Score!” she called.
“Just wait,” Justin warned, furrowing his eyebrows. “I can make it from here.” But Checkers, Robin’s bulldog, slammed into him just as he threw, and his disc went wild. “Do-over!” he cried.
“Nope,” Cat grinned. “Your own house rules say no do-overs.” Then Checkers galloped toward her, and she collapsed, laughing.
“Checkers, no!” Robin came running up and pulled him off. “I’m so sorry!”
“Hey, it was my shot he demolished,” Justin protested.
Robin shouldered him. “In that case, good job, Checkers.”
He harrumphed good naturedly and reached down for Cat’s hand. “Come on,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
* * *
Justin loved watching her eyes light up.
“What?” she asked. “Another mine?”
He just smiled. “You’ll see.” He opened the truck door for Cat and gave her a hand on the step up. She was a bit of a thing for a big truck. He got in the driver’s seat, started the engine, and headed out of town.
“So what’s the surprise?” Cat asked, her ponytail bouncing.
She had been gorgeous in church with her hair down, but he liked her ponytail too. It seemed to mirror her moods through each day, bouncing like now when she
was excited, flipping around when she was mad, still as stone when she was just being beautiful. “Like nothing you’ve ever seen before, City Girl. It’s a trail I really like.”
“A trail? Your surprise is a trail?”
This particular trail was special—woodsy, some magnificent Doug Firs, the creek tumbling down over a lot of rocks, until… “Just wait.”
He followed Main Street out to the highway, gassed up at the truck stop, and headed up the mountains. At a small brown sign with only a forestry road number, he turned onto a dirt road.
Cat grabbed the arm rest. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
Justin only smiled again. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction on the trail.
He pulled into a turnout, shut the engine off, and helped her down from the cab. She turned in a circle, taking in the towering trees, the undergrowth, the carpet of pine needles underneath.
“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand.
She took it, her hand fitting cozily into his. They walked together while the path was wide enough, her eyes flitting from one thing to another. The woods were filled with her exclamations of “Look at that!” and “What’s this?”
The trail to Warm Springs had never lost its magic to him, but he began to see it through her eyes. Huge fallen logs were draped in blankets of moss, and tiny mushrooms sprouted from ragged stumps. Ferns filled the space under the trees, and the light filtered through, making them glow. A clean, damp smell came from the water, mingled with the musty scent of the forest floor.
In town, the creek was tame and stayed within its banks, but here…here McCormick’s Creek tumbled wild and unruly over the boulders, just like his emotions tumbled over his logic every time he looked at Cat. Spray filled the air and landed delicately around her, leaving sparkling diamonds in her hair. This place, his magic place, was taking control, loosening and frizzing her ponytail until it was half-undone.