Small-Town Cinderella (The Pirelli Brothers)

by Stacy Connelly

  Crazy that the puppy snuggled in his arms didn’t detract from that oh-so-masculine sexiness. Crazier still that it only added to it.

  “So what exactly are you doing out here?”

  “I heard you talking and thought you were bringing someone inside. The last thing I need is anyone thinking I spent the night with you.”

  His dark brows pulled together. “You did spend the night.”

  Heat touched her cheeks. “You know what I mean.” Dropping her focus to her shoe, she said, “I couldn’t find my other shoe.”

  His frown morphed into a sheepish expression as he said, “Yeah, um, about that...Rain’s still teething, and she’s been doing really well but—”

  “No! Seriously?” Her shoulders slumping, Debbie clutched her sole surviving pump to her chest. “They were so cute.”

  And though she’d had them for months, they were brand-new. She’d been saving them for a special occasion, and wasn’t it a sorry testament to her life that a few dozen or so weeks could go by without a special occasion in sight?

  “Would it help to know it made a really awesome chew toy?”

  “Oddly, no.” She sighed.

  “How about if Rain said she was sorry?” Drew held out the puppy as if prompting a five-year-old to remember her manners. Rain rolled her head toward Debbie, draping her neck over the crook of Drew’s elbow. With one ear flopping over, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth and her eyes bright and happy, she didn’t look the least bit repentant. She did, however, look absolutely adorable, and any irritation Debbie might have felt disappeared. Toward the dog and toward the man holding her.

  She’d been angry and hurt and humiliated when Drew had turned her away the night before, but in the clear light of day, she could see now that he’d made the right decision. Sexual chemistry aside—assuming, that was, that it wasn’t just on one side—she and Drew were at different places in their lives. He was four years older than she was, and while that age difference was minimal, they’d taken very different paths to get where they were.

  Though Drew had worked odd jobs as a teenager, he’d still had plenty of time for sports and extracurricular activities as well as parties and hanging out with his friends. He’d been one of the cool kids who’d gone to every high school dance, run for class office and had been nominated for homecoming king. He’d never been short on friends or girlfriends, and she assumed his years at college had been the same way.

  He’d had his fun. He’d done all the things he wanted to do, including opening and running a successful business in his hometown. No matter what he said to the contrary, it only made sense that he would soon be looking toward the future—a wife, a family, a dog...

  One down, Debbie thought as she reached out to stroke one of Rain’s silky ears, two to go.

  She was looking for fun and freedom, not extra responsibility, even if that only meant taking care of a dog. She’d accused the puppy of being a lot of work when, really, what she’d been thinking was how the little thing was such a huge commitment. A commitment Drew was clearly willing to make.

  So staying friends was obviously the logical choice, even though her heart ached a little at the thought of Drew Pirelli never kissing her again. “No hard feelings, Rain. I know sometimes it can be really tough to do the right thing.”

  “Can I make you breakfast as part of that apology?” Drew offered. “Or do you need to get to the bakery?”

  “I wasn’t sure how late I’d be out last night, so I asked Kayla Walker to open up this morning.”

  “So...breakfast?”

  “Do you even know how to cook?” Debbie asked as she followed him back into the kitchen. Vanessa Pirelli, Drew’s mother, was known for her skill in the kitchen, but Debbie wasn’t aware if the woman had passed those talents on to her son.

  His expression was somewhat wry as he set Rain down on the kitchen floor where she scurried away, hopefully going off in search of a teething-approved dog toy. “I think I can manage frying an egg and working a toaster.”

  “Right. Okay, buster, move aside, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  “Really?”

  “You think I only know how to bake?” Baking was her profession, but cooking— Cooking was her passion, one she so rarely indulged because she’d never enjoyed fixing an extravagant meal with no one to share it with.

  Debbie wasn’t sure what to make of Drew’s expression as he stepped closer. He smelled like the outdoors—woodsy with a hint of ocean mist that rolled in every morning with the tide. Her pulse picked up its pace at the look in his dark eyes. A look that last night she’d thought meant he wanted to kiss her again. But that had been four glasses of wine talking, and this morning she had no excuse.

  “I think,” he murmured, “that you can do anything you want.”

  Her heart stumbled in her chest, and she turned toward the stove before Drew could read by the longing in her expression that what she really wanted to do was...well, Drew.

  Chapter Five

  Drew stared with a critical eye at the bare-bones structure in front of him. The early-morning chill formed a cloud as he exhaled a satisfied breath, and he took a drink from the steaming cup of coffee warming his hands. The framed house barely hinted at the layout and the details to come, but he could already see the finished product in his mind’s eye. After all, he’d been designing and redesigning the plans for years.

  He could picture the large foyer opening into the great room. A stone fireplace and rough-hewn mantel would be the room’s centerpiece. And okay, yeah, a flat-screen TV, too. The oversize arcadia doors would offer a view to the mountains and pines beyond the property and lead the way to a redwood deck. Maybe he’d add an outdoor kitchen and built-in grill. A hot tub, too, while he was at it.

  With the open floor plan, the flow led into the kitchen. A huge island took center stage with white cabinets and stainless-steel appliances all around. Smooth-as-glass black granite countertops would be a cool contrast to the warmth and character of the multicolored flagstone slate on the floors.

  The rest of the house was dedicated to bedrooms—four of them. Three smaller rooms and a master suite. The master bedroom faced the same direction as the great room, and a wall of windows would take full advantage of the view. A view he looked forward to waking up to for the rest of his life.

  Of all the homes he’d built over the years, Drew had to admit, this one was special. This one was his. Even though he put his heart, his soul, his sweat and sometimes even blood into every house he built, there was something about ownership, about possession, that gave him an extra sense of pride when he looked at the newly framed house. This time, when the house was complete, he wouldn’t be handing the keys over to some other family. The house would be his, and the family...

  Yeah, he wanted that, too.

  The crunch of tires coming down the gravel lane caught his attention, and he whistled for Rain. The puppy was smart but still had a lot to learn, and Drew wasn’t taking any chances. She bounded over to his side, tail wagging, a large stick clamped between her jaws. She sat and dropped her new toy at his feet, her expression bright and eager to please.

  “Hey, cool stick, girl.” Picking it up, he tossed it in the opposite direction of the approaching vehicle.

  Drew didn’t recognize the rugged SUV, but he grinned when he caught sight of the man behind the wheel. He walked over to the vehicle, Rain trotting faithfully at his side, the stick forgotten in light of a new person to love.

  “Ryder, I’d heard you were moving back to town,” he said as he greeted the brown-haired man climbing from the driver’s seat.

  “You heard, huh?” Ryder Kincaid winced slightly as he shook Drew’s hand. “Gonna take a while to get used to the whole small-town mentality again.”

  While Ryder was two years younger than Drew, both he and Nick
had been friends with his older brother who still lived in town. Ryder had left Clearville after his senior year to attend college on a sports scholarship. Drew had heard the other man had taken a job at a prestigious construction company in San Francisco—working for his in-laws. He’d also heard that Brittany, Ryder’s wife, was not moving back with him. Judging by the circles beneath the other man’s eyes and the rough-around-the-edges stubble and overgrown hair, the separation had hit Ryder hard.

  “So.” Drew cleared his throat. “How have you been?”

  Giving a short laugh beneath his breath, Ryder said, “Something tells me you’ve heard all about that, too.”

  “Sorry, man.”

  “You know what they say, it’s for the best and time to move on.”

  From what Drew recalled, Ryder Kincaid and Brittany Baines had been high school sweethearts, prom king and queen their senior year, and both families had long expected them to marry. They’d been Clearville’s golden couple, and Drew was aware of a subtle divide when it came to Ryder’s return.

  Half the town had welcomed the hometown kid back, taking his side on whatever had caused the split with Brittany. The other half, people who were still in touch with Brittany and her family, thought Ryder was clearly the one to blame.

  It was part of small-town life—feeling that connection to the people around you. Oh, sure, sometimes little more than nosiness and boredom were at work, but most times the townspeople had a genuine investment in the lives of their friends and neighbors. They truly cared.

  Suddenly, an image of Debbie came to mind—a common occurrence since bringing her home the other night. Her feminine scent, a combination of sugar and spice, of sweet and sexy, still lingered in his truck. And when he’d gone to change the sheets in the guest bedroom, he’d caught himself holding on to the pillow far longer than necessary, as if somehow holding on to the idea of her sleeping under his roof, in his bed—even if it was just the guest bed.

  But she was his kid sister’s best friend. Hell, she was his friend! He’d done the right thing in walking away. Even if she hadn’t had too much to drink, even if he hadn’t seen the vulnerability softening her blue gaze, pursuing Debbie would be like running through a minefield. Talk about causing a rift if things didn’t work out! He could see it now—his sister and sisters-in-law on one side with his brothers on the other.

  Or not.

  Was he really so sure Nick and Sam would have his back if it meant being at odds with the women they loved? Drew wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but just the possibility of causing any kind of dissent in his close family should have been enough to shut down any thoughts he had of crossing the line from friendship with Debbie into...something more. Playing it safe made perfect sense, so why did he feel like he was going to regret not taking that chance for a long time to come?

  Ryder gave Rain a final pat and stood. “Moving on to something new is actually why I’m here. I wanted to know if you’re looking to hire on any help.”

  Drew had had the feeling Ryder’s visit wasn’t purely a social call. “Things might have changed around here in the years since you’ve been gone, but not that much. There isn’t exactly a need for commercial construction around here.”

  “Yeah, I noticed the lack of high-rises, but I’d just as soon get out of that work anyway. I’m more interested in home building.” He jerked his chin toward the unfinished house. “This looks like quite the place.”

  “Yeah, it’s a custom I’m working on.” Other than family, Drew had told few people that the house he was building was his own. He didn’t know why, but he wanted the house finished, or nearly so, before showing her off to the rest of the town. And he wanted to finish it on his own. “Ryder—”

  Seeming to hear the apology Drew was about to deliver, the other man interrupted. “Or I can take on remodeling jobs that come your way. I’ve had a ton of experience. I put myself through college working as a handyman.”

  “But that’s something you could do on your own. Start your own business, be your own boss,” Drew suggested.

  “Yeah, I’d like that. Someday. But until the divorce goes through...” Ryder shrugged, but the tension he carried in his shoulders made the effort look as easy as lifting the weight of the world. Starting up a new business while in the middle of splitting assets probably wasn’t the best idea. “For now, I’m just looking for a job.”

  In the early years of his business, Drew had started with remodeling projects. Soon his focus had changed toward building custom homes, and as that side of the business began to take off the smaller jobs had fallen to the wayside. But with the number of old houses and businesses around town, homeowners were always needing repairs and upgrades on the turn-of-the-century Craftsman-style and even older Queen Anne and Victorian homes.

  “If we put the word out,” Drew said, “I bet it won’t be long before we have some clients looking for remodeling estimates.”

  “I can begin right away,” Ryder said, a little light sparking in his tired eyes. “I’m looking for a fresh start, and this could be just the thing. I can send you references from San Francisco and my resume.”

  “Email them to me when you get a chance,” Drew said.

  The two men talked a little more about the jobs Drew was currently working on and his plans for the future before Ryder left. If things worked out, the other man would have plenty of projects to keep him busy and he might also take some of the work off Drew’s shoulders.

  A sense of anticipation filled him. Maybe he could move up his time frame for completing the house. He’d felt stuck in such a holding pattern lately. Maybe finishing it would give him the push to start moving forward, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he was moving toward.

  You’re as grounded as a man can be and still manage to move both feet.

  Was Debbie right? Was the restlessness he felt not a symptom of the slow process of building his dream home to his standard of perfection but of being stuck in a rut in his personal life?

  She’d told him with dead certainty that he wasn’t the man for her. That he was too settled, too staid, too boring. Okay, maybe she hadn’t spelled it out that baldly, but it was how she thought of him. One of the guys she’d known her whole life who could never challenge or surprise her.

  The desire to prove himself to Debbie—hell, maybe even to himself—made no sense, especially not on the heels of his conversation with Ryder and his awareness of the ripple effect of a broken relationship in their close-knit town.

  “Come on, Rain. Time to get to work.” The puppy barked in response to her name and bounded over to his side, her tail wagging for all she was worth.

  One good thing about being the boss—it meant making the rules, and as of a few weeks ago, Pirelli Construction was a dog-friendly workplace. Taking Rain along with him to the office and to job-site inspections kept the smart and curious puppy from being stuck at home by herself—bored and getting into trouble.

  Which reminded him... Looking Rain in the eye, he said, “We owe a certain lady a new pair of shoes.”

  * * *

  “What do you think?” Debbie asked Kayla as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

  “Frightfully delicious.”

  Debbie matched her assistant’s grin. “Just what I was hoping you’d say.”

  The two of them were taking advantage of a midafternoon lull to decorate the bakery for Halloween. It was one of her favorite holidays, right up there with Christmas and Valentine’s Day and—

  Oh, who was she kidding? She loved any holiday associated with food, as the decorations throughout the bakery—black cats and witches and the occasional skeleton—would attest. But in keeping with the bakery, the silhouette of the arching cat taped to the front window was perched atop a black-and-white cupcake. And instead of stirring a caldron, the green-faced cartoon witch was whis
king her potion in a mixing bowl.

  The “spooky” decorations were a sharp contrast to the bakery’s typically cheery atmosphere. Pink-and-white-striped valances hung over the front window and matching cushions decorated the tiny white bistro set, the only seating available within the small space. White bead board wainscoting lined the lower half of the walls, and the front of the checkout counter was topped by white marble. Frothy pink-frosted vanilla cupcakes floated across the white walls—murals Debbie had painted while her mother was recovering from her first round of chemotherapy.

  Looking at them now, Debbie suffered a twinge of embarrassment. She felt like an adult who still had her kindergarten artwork displayed on the refrigerator. But her mother had loved the whimsical cupcakes so much, she couldn’t bring herself to paint over them. It would have been too much like wiping the memory of her mother’s happiness away.

  “Why don’t you drape some of the black streamers across the front counter and display case, and I’ll hang the rest of these from the ceiling,” Debbie said as she gathered up the orange, yellow and white candy-corn cutouts.

  “What about these?” Kayla wrinkled her nose as she waved a hand at the black plastic spiders.

  Debbie laughed at the look on the younger woman’s face. “Sam’s son, Timmy, inspired me there. He’s got a thing for bugs. I’m going to add them to just a few of the cupcakes in the display case. They’ll be great decorations to go along with the sugar cookies shaped like witches and black cats. And the severed ladyfingers—those have always been such a hit.”

  The rolled, oblong cookies fit their name, and for the spooky holiday, Debbie added a touch of pink to one end for a painted fingernail and then dipped the other side in red food coloring. “The adults usually refrain, but the bloodthirsty boys love them.”

  Faking a shudder, Kayla grabbed the roll of black crepe paper. “I am so glad I have a girl.”