"You wake me up by forcing me to have sex with you. You refuse to discuss allowing me to make an honest woman of you. You let me run naked through a chilly house without even the offer of your robe, and now—now you're rushing me when I haven't even finished my coffee."
"Whine, whine, whine.” She sipped her drink. “You're avoiding the question, McWaters."
"Yep, because the answer is not one you'll like. I have to meet a client at the studio at ten-thirty. The delivery truck is coming for the Washoe Lake painting around noon. And I have to get the next layer of color on the Elizabethtowne canvases today. No ifs, ands or buts to that one."
"I've got some things to do, too."
"So it looks like it will be dinner time before we start our little drilling operation. Who's cooking, Court? I'll be playing with power tools."
"I'm buying the pizza."
Barry tapped his mug to hers then settled back on his pillows to finish his coffee.
* * * *
It was late afternoon before Barry pulled back in the driveway at the Victorian. The front lawn was neatly mowed and trimmed. A fresh ring of mulch dressed the row of maples along the edge of the north property line, back to the fence. The lattice had been removed from around the front porch and new, unpainted steps were in place.
He unlocked the carriage house and stepped inside. It was still dusty and grimy, but with the assorted junk removed, it was truly a diamond in the rough.
The windows were large and well spaced. Whoever had laid the floor had been a true craftsman. It was laid in a Herringbone pattern with the bricks still tightly in place and showing no evidence of breakage.
All it needed was an industrial cleaning and he could start moving his inventory. He needed to complete the Elizabethtowne series at his current studio, though. That was his top priority.
The pieces developed in the carriage house would be subject to different lighting. He wouldn't risk that sort of change in the middle of a project. He needed to get an electrician scheduled, too. The carriage house lacked enough outlets to support his necessary computer equipment.
He settled in the sturdier of the two Adirondack lawn chairs and made a few calls on his cell phone. The lawn service was returning in the morning to begin clearing the courtyard. His cleaning lady knew someone who'd be glad to do the heavy-duty cleaning of the carriage house. Courtney was not at Desert Moon. Sally didn't know where she was. He called her cell phone and got her voice mail.
Well, she was a big girl. She'd show up sooner or later, hopefully with the pizza. He'd wait for her to arrive before going to the basement to start drilling.
He felt a bit foolish about the whole thing. Drilling a hole in a foundation wall to look for a secret room was the stuff of old movies. But underneath it all, he was curious, and just a bit excited. He didn't remember if the Hardy boys had even found a secret room, but they must have somewhere.
Thirsty, he climbed the back steps and stepped into the quiet house. The refrigerator yielded a bottle of cold water. He opened it and took several long swallows before making his way upstairs to the front of the house. The turret room, with its more northern exposure, would make a peaceful office for Courtney. Maybe she'd even share a corner of it with him. He didn't know what she had in mind, but if she wanted a mural, he'd like to do one in this room.
The sound of a car horn beeping intruded on his mental wanderings. He met Courtney at the back door, quickly divesting her of pizza box and six-pack. She dropped her purse on the floor and dashed back to her car. He set their dinner down and followed her.
"Did you buy out the store?” He scooped up two grocery bags.
"Do you want to eat?"
He chuckled wickedly. She glared at him as she balanced a bag.
"Not me. Food."
"Damn. Food's a close second, I suppose. What's in the bags, babe?"
"Go up the steps in front of me, McWaters! Every time you're behind me I feel you looking at my ass!"
He glanced at her then shrugged and walked ahead of her. He set his load down on the counter and reached for hers. She looked tired.
"Long day, babe?"
"No more than any other.” She brightened, smiling up at him. “Your girlfriend, Paris Coverton, stopped by to see me today."
He cocked an eyebrow at her. She was baiting him and he refused to participate. Courtney wrinkled her nose at him.
"Anyway, she asked me if Nichols-Morgan would be interested in brokering a few pieces for her."
"Great. She's good, you know.” He leaned back on the counter and pulled her into his arms. She relaxed against him, exhaling loudly. He wrapped his arms around her offering her whatever shelter she'd take from him.
"So I saw. She had a portfolio with her. She's almost as good as you."
Barry chuckled. He still wasn't falling for the bait she was tossing his way.
"She is good. I hope you worked something out with her."
"I gave her the same deal you get."
He whistled. “You must have really liked what she had.” He had a very lucrative, and generous arrangement with Nichols-Morgan, Inc.
"Well, she's your friend. I couldn't take the full twenty percent."
"Sure you could have. She'd know it was business."
Courtney didn't respond. She was almost limp in his arms. He could feel something wasn't right.
"What else happened today?"
She sighed, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"We made the society column."
Damn. He'd have to have a chat with the widows Helms and Watson about that.
"Really? What did my not-so-tea-totaling neighbors have to say?"
She made that tired sound again and buried her face in his shirt. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was sniffing him again.
He did know better, and she was.
"It's still Old Spice,” he teased. She kicked his foot with hers.
"The ladies said, in a nutshell, guess which well-known and successful business woman has been seen in the company of the town's most talented artist and eligible bachelor."
He had to laugh. He'd have burst if he'd tried to hold it in. Still, he could appreciate the fact that Courtney wasn't amused.
"I'll talk with them and ask them to refrain from mentioning us until our wedding."
She looked up at him, slowly blinking her eyes.
"What wedding, McWaters? I don't remember saying anything about a wedding."
"Yet, baby. I have time."
"I don't remember getting a proper proposal, either.” She stomped on his foot.
"And you won't if you cripple me,” he snapped at her, giving her foot a warning nudge. Ornery wench. Something more than a cryptic paragraph in the paper had her feeling nasty.
She pushed away from him. “Yeah, well, that little column brought Wayne to the shop. He accused me of sleeping with you for years. According to him, he'd have never cheated on me if I hadn't been involved with you."
Anger, black and violent, raged through him. Damn Wayne Collins for saying that to her! Damn Collins for hurting her yet again! The idea of putting a fist in Waynie-boy's face grew more appealing.
He tried to bank down his temper before she sensed it. He'd deal with Wayne Collins later. Right now, he needed to get Courtney back on her feet.
"You and I both know that's not true.” He was surprised at how calm his voice was.
"He's going to spread that as far and wide as he can. You know he will.” She shivered, once, then started putting the groceries in the nearest cabinet. “He doesn't want me, but that doesn't mean he's going to stand by and allow me to have any sort of a life with anyone."
"Just how often does he ‘show up’ at your place?"
"I don't keep track."
A fresh wave of anger rolled through him, coiling in his gut. He rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension settling there.
The evasiveness of her answer told him all he needed to know. The man must keep at her all t
he time. How could he not have seen that?
Because Collins would never be stupid enough to approach Courtney where anyone would witness the encounters. He'd wait until she was alone in the shop, or at home, to talk with her.
He knew with certainty that Courtney had told her ex-husband to stay away. He knew with equal certainty that the man wouldn't. Collins no doubt sensed how his visits affected Courtney and took some perverse pleasure in upsetting her.
Oh yeah, he was definitely going to have a chat with Wayne Collins. Just as soon as he could find the son of a bitch.
And he had a good idea of where that would be. The man wasn't faithful to his second wife, either.
"He doesn't have any say in it, Courtney. He's not your husband now. He gave up any rights to you and your life when he broke his vows to you."
Barry started handing her things out of the bags. She slammed them, one by one, into place on the shelf. He pulled a box of cheese crackers from the bag and set them aside. She didn't even notice.
"Listen, babe. I'll go have a little chat with Wayne. I think I can make it clear to him that he's to back off."
"Jesus, Barry. What can you do?"
He stared at her while slowly counting to ten. He'd been on the receiving end of that jab since he'd been a teenager and told his ball coach he wanted to make a living with his art.
He expected strangers to think he was an ineffectual wimp, or even homosexual, and it didn't bother him too much. He made a good living and he didn't care what they thought.
But it stung coming from Courtney.
"Thanks for that little vote of confidence, Court. You think because I paint pictures for a living, I can't handle Wayne Collins?"
"I didn't mean it like that!"
The words fell from his lips before he could stop them.
"Just how did you mean it?"
She slammed the cupboard door closed and glared up at him. “I'm sorry, okay? I certainly wasn't casting aspersions on your manhood. If you took it that way, it's your problem. Get over it."
"You're right. Wayne Collins is my problem, and I will deal with him.” He reached for her arm. “As for my manhood, I don't give a flying fuck what the world thinks. Call me egotistical and arrogant if you like, but it would be a sin for me to waste my God-given talent. That talent makes me more, not less."
"I know that, Barry. I said I was sorry and I didn't even insult you, no matter how you took it.” She took a deep breath. “Just stay away from Wayne. I told him to leave me alone."
"You think he'll listen this time?” He gave her arm a little shake. “Now he has some real ammunition. He'll be back, and soon, just because it will amuse him."
Tears welled up in her eyes, surprising him. He pulled her into his arms again, cradling her head to his chest. She was upset and he argued with her. He was sorry, too, only he couldn't seem to get the words out.
She sniffed against his chest. He didn't think it was his cologne this time.
"I went to the police and filed a restraining order against him."
Chapter 21
Barry leaned back in his chair, watching Courtney eye up his beer. She'd already downed one, but he didn't think it had helped her relax. He nudged the bottle toward her. She shook her head.
"Another slice of pizza, then?"
Another shake of her head.
"Breadstick?"
She shook her head again.
The woman just looked plain miserable.
He wasn't surprised. Taking out a restraining order on Waynie-boy was not something she'd done lightly. She wanted to remain civil in her dealings with her ex-husband, even though she was the one who paid the price.
A lot of women fell prey to the temptation to lower themselves to their ex's level of behavior. Courtney was determined to rise above it, regardless of what the world thought.
The restraining order prohibited Wayne Collins from entering Desert Moon and its customer parking area, nothing more. Barry didn't know if he'd have stopped at that, but he respected her decision.
"Are you ready to go drill holes in your foundation?"
She smiled weakly at him.
"Sure. Maybe we'll find gold."
Barry snorted. “More likely old whiskey bottles."
"Hey, old bottles in good shape are still collectible. There could be a fortune back there."
He stood, holding out his hand to her.
"Come on, then. Let's bring the house down."
She rolled her eyes and waved her hands at the mess on the table. He closed the pizza box and stuck it in the refrigerator. She wiped the tabletop.
"That's as domestic as I get, McWaters."
"Yeah? Me, too. You should hear my cleaning lady.” He picked up his drill case and headed for the basement stairs.
"You should hear mine. We may need to have both of them to clean this place. One for upstairs and one for down."
Barry grinned. She was planning on his living with her, whether she admitted it or not. Getting the ring on her finger was just a matter of time. And he had time now.
He led the way down the narrow stairs, ducking to avoid the low clearance. He reached the bottom and pulled the chain for the light bulb. Courtney slipped past him and he laid the drill case on a step.
"Okay, look for a spot where there is a lot of mortar. That's what I need to drill through, not the rock itself."
She ran her fingers along the mortar lines. “Here's one."
He examined it then set the drill bit in place. Very slowly, he pulled the trigger. The bit skipped once then dug in.
The old mortar was soft, no match for modern metal alloys. He kept a steady pressure on the drill. Suddenly, the bit disappeared and he almost fell against the wall.
He withdrew the bit and examined it. There was no soil in the grooves. “That answers that, doesn't it?"
"Really? It's hollow?"
He grinned at the excitement in her voice.
"Seems to be, babe. Find another spot below this one and I'll drill another hole."
"Why?"
"So you can shine a light though one and I can peek through the other."
"You won't be able to see anything like that!"
He kissed her nose. “You don't know. I might."
"McWaters.” She made a swipe across the bridge of her nose.
He laughed out loud at the exasperation in her voice then set the drill bit to where she pointed. It didn't take long for the drill to pass through the mortar. She held the flashlight flush to the stones and turned it on. He looked through the top hole.
"I can see the light.” He tapped her shoulder and held out his hand for the flashlight so she could look through the lower hole.
"Me, too. Now what do we do?"
"Damned if I know, babe. Go to a movie?"
She jabbed a pointed finger into his belly.
"No, smartass. Call a contractor."
* * * *
Courtney had to admit it. She enjoyed the movie. She rarely went to that kind of shoot ‘em up, bombs exploding, four car chase flicks, but this one had been pure escapism entertainment and just what she'd needed.
She fumbled with the knobs on the side of the passenger seat, found the correct one and dropped it back a notch. The glowing dashboard lights eerily outlined Barry's face in green. She was second-guessing her decision to go back to her old house for the night. But it made sense that they could load some things in Barry's truck in the morning to take out to the Victorian.
What bothered her was Wayne driving by and seeing Barry's truck in the driveway. He was going to cause trouble. It didn't matter to him that he had no right to interfere in her life any longer. She knew him and realized he would.
The truck rolled to a stop, almost silent on the blacktop. Barry flipped switches off then cut the ignition.
He drove like he did everything else. She envied him the ease with which he preformed even the smallest tasks. Rarely had she known anyone as at ease in their own skin as Barry seemed t
o be.
"Got your keys, babe?"
Experienced fingers found the door key by touch and handed it to him. He came around and opened the truck door for her. She slid out into his arms and raised her lips to his. He kept the kiss light and teasing, a gentle lure to a night she didn't think she was up to. She pulled away and led him up the front walk.
She was weary. Maybe Tyler had the right idea. Maybe she should pull up stakes and leave Reno, and Wayne, behind. She loved the Sedona area. It was growing. She could move Desert Moon there. She'd hate to turn around and sell the Victorian, but she could do it.
She could do it if Barry would agree to go with her.
Perhaps he'd like to move to Chicago to be near his mom again. She'd gone there years ago to help her only sister after surgery, loved it, and stayed. Barry always joked about his mom running away from home at her age, but seemed to admire her for striking out and starting over.
Chicago had a lot of opportunities for her sort of business.
Running away wouldn't necessarily solve anything, though. If Wayne wanted to be a problem, he had money enough to hire annoyances.
The jingle of her keys caught her attention. She watched his hands, spellbound, struck again by their strength, their gentleness, and their abilities. He unlocked the door and handed her key ring back to her. The need to have those hands touch her swept over her and she slipped her arms around his waist.
His arms came around her. His hands splayed across her back, warm and comforting. She leaned against him. The world and her cares faded.
His patience would undo her someday. He held her without any sense of hurry, or boredom, as if he'd be content to just hold her for the rest of his life. She needed that so much, and to admit that she did made her eyes burn with tears she refused to shed. He seemed to know that, too, and his arms tightened around her.
"Come on, babe. Let's have a nightcap and turn in. You need to get some sleep."
"Sleep, huh?"
"Don't tempt me too far, but yeah, you need to get some sleep."
"Stop being such a gentleman, Barry. I'm tired of trying to be a lady."
"You are a lady, Courtney. Everyone knows it. You don't have to be afraid to let go with me. I'd feel privileged if you would."
Under A Painted Moon Page 15