At Wild Rose Cottage

by Callie Endicott

  “You’re good at that,” he gasped.

  “I own a fashion boutique. That makes me an expert at buttons and zips,” she managed to say.

  As she tugged his jeans down, he grasped her hands to stop her, reached back and pulled his wallet from a rear pocket, fumbling until he found a condom.

  “A man who’s always prepared?” she asked as she busily undid the buttons on his black shirt.

  “Find me a single man with good sense who isn’t prepared.”

  “True,” she said, baring his muscular chest. It was mostly smooth with only a narrow wedge of dark hair that she carefully ran her fingers through, before drawing them across a jagged scar along his rib cage.

  “What happened?”

  “Stupidity on the job site,” he groaned, seeming to be aroused by her fingers exploring the ridge of white scar tissue.

  His erection jutted out, hard and ready under his boxers.

  Bra, shirt, sundress, jeans...a trail of clothing was scattered across the floor to the door of her bedroom. Emily fumbled with the knob, managed to open it, and they succeeded in getting inside to tumble onto the mattress she used for a bed.

  She gasped as she bounced.

  “Nice-quality mattress,” Trent told her, fastening his mouth upon her right breast, licking, teasing, sucking.

  “Local supplier,” she gasped. “I couldn’t take the air bed any longer.”

  “Good choice,” he said with a grin, lifting his hips, his hands moving in a way where she knew he was donning the condom. Then he nudged her legs apart and lay hard and satisfying against her.

  Yeah...quality all the way.

  * * *

  EMILY DROWSILY LISTENED to the sound of kids playing and the drone of a lawn mower in the distance. Her neighbors didn’t sleep in on Saturday mornings; they got right down to the business of living.

  She and Trent lay on their sides, her back against his chest, and his arm curved over her waist. The prior evening had brought the kind of pleasure she’d only imagined in the past. Trent was very, very good in bed, and he’d made sure she was completely satisfied. Maybe it was the contrast between him and Dennis that... She stopped herself. No comparisons or thinking of unimportant things.

  Part of her believed she was still asleep and had enjoyed a mind-blowing dream. Surely it wasn’t possible that they’d spent the night together. He was still the prickly, impossible man who thought she’d been trying to manipulate free stuff out of his men.

  A cold chill ran down her back. Would he accuse her of sleeping with him in order to get some new folderol on the house?

  If he said even one word to that effect he’d find out she could be incredibly not nice.

  Regardless, now she had to return to reality. Someone had broken into her home and she was convinced it was for the second time. Fortunately, the culprit seemed more interested in Wild Rose Cottage than her. But what about the handgun Trent had taken from the upstairs wall? It seemed unlikely there was a connection, but she couldn’t avoid talking to him about it any longer.

  She shivered as Trent’s body showed hints of waking energy. His muscles tautened, tension gathering in knots. Asleep he was calm and relaxed. Awake he was...Trent Hawkins, the formidable owner of Big Sky Construction—a man people treated as if he was a live grenade, ready to go off if they accidentally pulled the pin.

  But a different primal energy seemed to be building as well... The arm around her waist shifted as Trent’s hand went traveling. Interesting, her almost rational mind observed, he explored the curve of her hip first before sliding down to delve into the curls at the apex of her legs.

  Well, maybe explanations could wait for a few minutes.

  * * *

  TRENT LIFTED HIMSELF on his elbows and stared down at Emily. Her light brown hair tumbled across the pillow and her pretty brown eyes were fringed with dark lashes. He was still inside of her and hated to leave, despite being fully sated. But he eased away.

  “Can we talk?” she asked.

  He could have guessed that was coming. It was why he normally stuck with women whose sole interest was a good time. This was the payment for breaking all of his rules about sex and business relationships.

  He sat up, pulling the blanket over his lap, hiding the evidence that he was rapidly becoming aroused again, while Emily found a short silk robe and pulled it on. He found it easier to breathe once her breasts were covered.

  “Trent,” she said firmly, “something happened a few weeks ago that we need to discuss.”

  He blinked. This wasn’t the typical opening to the what-is-our-relationship-and-where-are-we-going-from-here discussion.

  “Yes?”

  “On the Saturday you worked at the house alone, I came back and you were upstairs, knocking the wall apart for the master bedroom.”

  All desire vanished.

  “Yeah, I...” He couldn’t voice the lie he’d planned—that he’d forgotten she wanted to be there when it was demolished.

  “I saw you take a handgun out of the wall. You must have a good reason, but I haven’t known if I should say something. Now with the break-in, we have to deal with it. The two probably have nothing to do with each other, but they’re both creepy.”

  Trent’s brain reeled. He’d figured the whole thing was behind him...except for the gun hidden in his private safe.

  He’d planned to drop it in several tons of concrete—Big Sky was always pouring a foundation at one site or another—yet something had held him back.

  “I’m sure there’s no connection,” he said.

  “Perhaps not, but I need to know what it’s about.”

  “It’s about the past, which is much better left that way.”

  “It might be about the past, but the gun was in my house.”

  He didn’t want to acknowledge she had a point, didn’t want to think about the whole mess.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Sorry, I don’t care what you want. And I have to point out that since the gun was in my house, technically, you stole it from me.”

  Her words were a goad. “Then call the police,” he dared.

  “Maybe I will, if I don’t get the truth.”

  He didn’t think she meant it, but couldn’t be completely sure.

  “It’s about a crap-load of unpleasantness, so can’t we just leave it?” he demanded.

  Her gaze was unwavering. “No. I’ve never thought you’d done anything bad with it, but the gun was in my house and I have a right to know what it’s about. And if you don’t explain, I’m going to start asking other people.”

  “Damnation,” he swore. “I’ve never met such a stubborn, obnoxious woman in my life.”

  “You can drop the compliments. They won’t distract me,” she said, the ironic expression in her eyes telling him she was thinking of his accusations that she’d acted “nice” for a purpose. He didn’t know where he stood on that question at the moment, but it was obvious Emily had no intention of moving an inch until he’d explained.

  “All right,” he said through gritted teeth. “I never used that gun to do something illegal, but my father may have.”

  “Your father?” she repeated, looking confused. “Everyone says he was a great guy.”

  “Everyone is wrong. The truth is... I’ve always wondered if he was involved in several armed robberies the year before he died.”

  Emily’s eyes opened wide. “Did he have a split personality?”

  “In a way. In public he was charming and charismatic, but no one knew what kind of man he was inside this house. To me he was a drunk who’d beat his wife and son for any reason.”

  “Oh, my God,” Emily murmured.

  Trent gulped a lungful of air, curiously grateful that he’d been forced into r
evealing the truth. “I told you it wasn’t pleasant. Mom pretended everything was fine, as if we were the perfect family. How could she just let it happen and not try to stop him?”

  Emily traced a pattern on the blanket before looking up at him. “Some women can’t get out of abusive relationships. There’s guilt and fear and shame involved, and probably stuff that’s unique to each situation.”

  Thinking back, Trent remembered asking his mother why she didn’t leave and she’d stuttered something about loving Gavin and how she was sure it would get better.

  “I tried to protect her,” he said. “Dad would break things or punch holes in the plaster walls. She was afraid someone in the family would find out or that we’d be evicted, so I learned how to do repairs.”

  Emily nodded.

  Trent grinned savagely. “I used to drop things inside the wall, stuff he wanted, and I wrote notes about how much I hated him and threw them in, as well.”

  “And the gun,” Emily added softly.

  “Right, the gun,” Trent agreed. “I was afraid that sooner or later he’d shoot my mom. In fact, I was afraid I’d grab it and shoot him one night. Gavin Hawkins was a mean drunk. It’s why I don’t drink much. Hell, I just don’t want to end up like him. Alaina isn’t much of a drinker, either. She hates beer and only has a little dry wine now and then. Maybe she subconsciously knows it’s a bad idea.”

  Now that the dam had broken, it was easier to talk with Emily than Trent had expected. He wasn’t sure how he would have expected her to react, but her rational ability to discuss it was a relief.

  Her brow creased as if she was thinking deeply. “He never hit Alaina?”

  “No,” Trent returned harshly. “I promised if he ever laid a finger on her, I’d kill him. He knew I meant it, because drunk as he was, it was the one time he backed off.”

  A sad smile curved Emily’s lips. “So you were a tough guy, even then.”

  “Survival required a steep learning curve.”

  A buzzing from the alarm clock interrupted them and she pivoted to her knees. “Ohmigosh, the crew will be here in half an hour.” She grabbed clothes from the plastic boxes sitting next to the mattress. “We’ll talk more tonight,” she called over her shoulder as she ran for the bathroom.

  So she wasn’t going to drop it.

  But he couldn’t spend time trying to convince her otherwise; he didn’t want his employees to learn where he’d spent the night and hastily gathered the trail of clothing they’d left through the house. He sorted them out, dropping Emily’s inside her door, and was buckling his belt when she flew past with a hurried “I’ll get the coffee started.”

  As he closed the door, he couldn’t stop a lingering gaze at the mattress where they’d spent the night. It had been an extremely enjoyable interlude, with a highly unexpected ending.

  Tonight would tell him more.

  * * *

  ALAINA WAS STILL furious when she stormed into the office on Saturday morning. Trent hadn’t asked her to work that day, but she was so angry, she figured she might as well get boring paperwork done while she had a headful of steam driving her.

  What a nerve Mike had, to suggest she’d set him up—as if she didn’t have better things to do.

  It was time to see Mike for what he really was.

  When the office door opened ten minutes later she put on her calmest, most professional expression. Customers and staff didn’t care whether the office manager was having a bad weekend; they simply wanted their issues efficiently resolved.

  She kept the expression firmly fixed when she saw it was Mike who’d arrived.

  “Can I help you?” she asked crisply.

  “I was hoping we could talk.”

  She glanced at the wall clock. “You’re already late for work.”

  Mike’s jaw hardened. “Dock my pay. Please, Alaina, I want to apologize for yesterday. It was rude and ungracious.”

  “You forgot stupid.”

  “And stupid,” he agreed. “I didn’t think before opening my big mouth and made a fool of myself.”

  Alaina closed her desk drawer with a snap. “Apology accepted. You can go to work now.”

  “I was also wondering when we could go out to dinner.”

  Alaina raised her eyebrow. “You’re off the hook. I’m treating my winning bid as a no-strings-attached donation toward the ladder truck.”

  “This has nothing to do with the auction. It would mean a lot to me if you’d agree.”

  Pursing her lips, Alaina considered how to respond. She was so angry and frustrated with Mike that she could hardly see straight, but if she didn’t get to know him better, how could she answer the hard question she kept asking herself?

  Was she really in love with Mike Carlisle, or had she mistaken a girlhood fantasy for the real thing?

  He was no longer the ambitious boy who’d dazzled Schuyler with his talent and easygoing friendliness. Instead, he was a complicated man with a whole lot of problems. She didn’t mind sharing problems with someone she loved, but she no longer knew how she felt about him.

  Of course, that could mean she was a fool, that she’d left her life in New York for nothing more than a lingering crush. But she’d be a bigger fool if she didn’t figure out whether she loved Mike, or if he’d just been a childish fantasy.

  “I’ll consider it,” she answered at length.

  Mike seemed disappointed not to get an immediate agreement, but that was too bad. She wasn’t playing games or trying to dangle him on a hook. Just because he’d finally asked her out was no reason to fall at his feet, even if it turned out that she really loved him. It was time for some equality in their relationship, whether he liked it or not.

  “I’ll call you later,” Mike said as he stood at the door, watching her intently.

  “Fine.”

  Strangely, it was almost as if he was seeing her in a new way, but her imagination was probably just working overtime.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SOON AFTER EMILY started the coffee, Trent left to pick up pastries. She had planned to bake something the night before, but other things had pushed that idea out the window.

  Trent probably thought being absent when the crew arrived would prevent gossip. Not likely. Someone in the neighborhood was bound to have noticed his truck parked in front of the house all night. She’d already learned that rumor-sharing was a staple entertainment in Schuyler, though people who learned about the break-in might think he’d stayed to keep an eye on the place.

  Well...maybe.

  Trent worked so hard keeping everyone from knowing a decent guy lurked beneath his tough exterior, people might question him having an altruistic impulse.

  “Hell, Em,” Vince yelped when he saw plywood over the window he’d helped glaze three days earlier. “What happened?”

  “Someone broke in,” she explained.

  A sad-faced Caveman went to get a broom to clean up the glass while Eduardo gave her a comforting hug.

  “What a horrid thing to happen,” Eduardo said.

  “Yeah, and if I ever lay my hands on the guy who did it, he’ll have thorny wild rose canes up his nose...or another part of his anatomy,” she promised.

  The men chuckled.

  Mike wasn’t there yet, which seemed strange. He was always on time—the Big Sky crews were known for their reliability. He hustled in twenty minutes later and gave her a sheepish smile.

  “Hi,” he said. “Sorry I’m late. I, uh, went by the office to discuss something with Alaina.”

  “That’s okay.” Emily hoped the discussion was more than dutifully checking when Alaina wanted to have dinner with the bachelor she’d won at the auction.

  Mike glanced around. “Where’s Trent?”

  “He was here earlier, but decided t
o get doughnuts.” Pretending she hadn’t seen him would just raise more questions.

  After finishing their coffee, the men launched into work. Emily was putting the cups into her new dishwasher when the phone rang. It was Alaina asking if she’d be able to have lunch. Emily hoped she had good news to share, but the tight, weary sound in her friend’s voice didn’t sound promising.

  “Sure, how about getting something from Simpson’s Deli?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll meet you there at noon.”

  When Trent walked in a short time later, she smiled nonchalantly.

  “I explained that you were here early and decided to go out for pastries,” she said, in case there might be listening ears.

  “I picked up an assortment.”

  Nodding as if nothing unusual had happened, she went to see if she could help Eduardo dismantle the upstairs bathroom.

  A few hours later she left to meet Alaina at the deli. They got sandwiches and went to the park to eat at one of the picnic tables. Aside from trampled places in the grass, there were no signs of the huge event that had taken place the day before.

  “Wow, everything is cleaned up already,” Emily marveled.

  “We’ve got a good crew with lots of practice. The barbecue has been held here for over thirty years.”

  “Impressive.” Emily unwrapped her veggie sandwich, thinking about Trent’s revelations. She wanted to act naturally, but it was uncomfortable knowing intimate details about her friend’s childhood that Alaina didn’t remember. He’d been right about the load of unpleasantness.

  Most of all Emily felt bad for Trent. It must have been lonely growing up with all those secrets, keeping them hidden from the rest of his family. No wonder he was so solitary, putting up barriers to keep everyone away.

  The problem was that understanding Trent’s cynicism didn’t make him any easier to be with.

  “What happened with Mike yesterday?” she asked Alaina.

  “The jackass accused me of setting him up...saying I promised to outbid everyone, just to make him look good. I was tempted to turn him into a soprano.”

  Emily couldn’t help thinking how often people blithely said something like I could have killed him, or I wanted to strangle the guy. Or I was tempted to turn him into a soprano. Most people didn’t mean anything by it, but it was a curious reminder of the violence Trent had known as a child.