At Wild Rose Cottage

by Callie Endicott

  * * *

  AS THE DAYS PASSED, Trent pushed the renovations forward as quickly as possible. The crew griped, good-naturedly, about the hurried pace, saying that the sooner they finished on Meadowlark Lane, the sooner they lost their sixth team member.

  Curiously, everything was now progressing with uncanny speed; it was almost as if Wild Rose Cottage was cooperating with the renovations. But he didn’t agree with Emily’s fanciful notions, did he?

  “It won’t be that long before we release you from construction-zone hell,” Trent assured Emily the following Tuesday. The crew was gone for the afternoon, but he’d been staying late to get additional work done.

  “Things are much easier now that I have a kitchen,” she assured him, “but I know you’re anxious to put it behind you.”

  Considering they’d slept together, some women might have been insulted by his rush. Yet once again, Emily had gone straight to the core of what was going on in his head.

  “Hey, are you a psychic?” he asked with a joking air.

  “Heavens, no. I get feelings about places, not people. But it makes sense. You’ve been dragging this house around on your shoulders for most of your life, and it would be a relief to finally drop it and forget everything connected to the memory.”

  “I suppose,” Trent acknowledged. “By the way, Carl called. They found Webber’s and Gavin’s fingerprints on the gun, though the bullets inside only contained partial prints from my father—which of course sounds as if it’s out of a CSI episode. Preliminary ballistic tests indicate it was the weapon used in the shooting.”

  “Where did they get your father’s prints to compare against?”

  “From his service record. It turns out he was in the army briefly, only to be dishonorably discharged for striking a commanding officer.”

  “Ouch. Sorry. I mean, before you just wondered if he was involved, and now you know for sure, and it’s even worse because someone died. Of course, since you already knew what kind of guy he was, I guess it... That is...” Emily stuttered to a stop and her nose wrinkled. “I’m not saying this very well.”

  “That’s okay.”

  She looked cute with a streak of paint on her cheek and he had an urge to kiss her. Controlling himself, he said good-night and hurried out to his truck. That’s what happened when he broke his rules and got personally involved with a customer—the dividing lines blurred.

  Trent gripped the steering wheel. It was well and good to talk about friendship, only what did he do with the desire that still gripped him?

  * * *

  MIKE PULLED OUT the lesson plans he usually ignored until shortly before the start of fall term.

  Curiosity pricked at him—there had to be better ways to teach this stuff to blasé teenagers.

  When the timer buzzed on the stove he tucked the lesson plans away so Alaina wouldn’t think he was trying to impress her with a renewed dedication to teaching.

  They were having dinner at his condo. At first he’d been uncomfortable revealing that he knew his way around a kitchen. While lots of athletes cooked, Schuyler’s expectations were traditional when it came to men. He’d considered getting takeout, but what was the point? If he and Alaina wanted to make it together, they had to be honest. Besides, it would be a relief to stop putting on an act.

  Everything was ready by the time she arrived.

  “Hi,” he said, kissing her cheek.

  She half smiled; it would probably take a while before they were comfortable as a couple.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “They’re pretty sure my father’s gun was used to kill that poor man. I...wrote a note to tell his family how sorry I am. It doesn’t seem fair to make them meet with me, though Carl says there’s just his granddaughter left.”

  Mike squeezed her hand. “I’d want to apologize, too, but don’t forget that Gavin Hawkins, not his children, chose to hold up that store.”

  “I know. Maybe I’m just wishing that Mr. Barker had more people who remembered him.”

  Cold reality hit Mike in the stomach. He was an only child and his parents didn’t have relatives in the area. The guy who’d died could have been him, leaving only a footnote in the baseball records.

  He wanted to kick himself for the opportunities he’d wasted at the high school. Alaina was right. Kids deserved the best teachers. A number of them had helped him along the way—two had even called in favors to get college scouts to Schuyler, helping him to score a scholarship. Teachers might not go in record books or have screaming fans, but he was increasingly intrigued by the possibilities.

  “Dinner is ready,” he said. “I’m not a gourmet chef, but I can put together a mean chicken enchilada casserole.”

  “Spicy, I hope.”

  “Naturally. I saw the hot sauce you used the other night, so I figured your mouth could take it.”

  She grinned and he loved the way her eyes crinkled in the corners.

  They ate out on his small private patio.

  “Mmm,” Alaina said after a minute. “This is first-rate.”

  Mike ate another forkful. “Not bad. Maybe instead of working construction next summer, I should teach cooking class.”

  “You have other options, too. Big Sky sponsors a Little League team that will need a coach next year. Jack Embry is retiring.”

  She stopped and looked down at her plate, possibly afraid she shouldn’t have mentioned baseball. But he didn’t want her to censor what she said—nobody talked baseball around him.

  “I’ll consider it,” he told her easily. “I didn’t enjoy coaching Triple-A ball, but it would be different working with younger kids. Truthfully, I got so caught up in being a star before I came back to Schuyler that I forgot why I started playing in the first place—because I love the game.”

  She relaxed and continued eating.

  “By the way,” he said, “thanks for jumping on my ego and beating the crap out of my delusions.”

  Her eyes widened. “Uh...yeah?”

  “Yeah. I was acting badly and deserved to be called on it,” Mike continued. “Don’t get me wrong, I miss playing, but I’m more than a former major leaguer or a guy who got hurt showboating for a woman.”

  Alaina grinned. “To be frank, you always went for the big play. It wasn’t just because of that slinky redhead.”

  True, but the reason hadn’t always been dedication to the game. He’d liked the cheering and how the sportscasters would applaud him for going all out, whether the team was winning or losing. No matter how or when his career had ended, he would have had trouble adjusting.

  It had taken someone who’d never cared if he was a star in the first place to show him there was something better. Because Alaina didn’t give a flip for his former fame, his injuries hadn’t changed her expectations of what he could accomplish. Now she wanted to see if he was still a man she could love and he was eager to work on it with her.

  * * *

  TRENT BROUGHT IN three additional crews the following Monday—one to build the decks in the back and restore the porch, another to finish the roof and paint the outside of the house and the third to finish repairs on the storm cellar.

  Caveman and the others grumbled about it all week, saying it was their job. But they kept quiet around Emily, who was excited to see everything coming together.

  By midmorning on Friday the exterior work was completed. Emily went outside with Trent to survey the results.

  “It no longer looks like a set out of a horror movie,” she exclaimed. “And it will look even better when the surrounding jungle is under better control.” Her nose wrinkled. “I haven’t dared check whether the wild roses or honeysuckle survived.”

  “Some did,” he said, “although it may take a while for them to look their best. I’m not sure whether th
ey’re native species, but one of my guys is good at preserving plantings, so I put him on it.”

  Trent followed as she walked to the backyard by way of the new gate. She surveyed the rose pergola that had been erected, set far enough from the house that the walls could be kept free of the brambles.

  “That looks great,” she exclaimed, giving him a fast hug and bouncing away before he could react—the imprint of her body lingered.

  The construction crew had cut paths and trampled down the growth nearest the house and they went around to the patio, now enlarged to include decks with multiple levels, one with a sheltered hot tub, and another with the new outdoor kitchen.

  “It’s fabulous,” she said simply. “Thanks, Trent.”

  “You’re welcome. I shou—”

  “Yoo-hoo,” a voice interrupted. “Is anyone home?”

  It was his mom, though he had to remind himself to call her that in his head. But she deserved it and that’s who she really was.

  They walked around to the front of the house and found half of the McGregor and Nelson clan had pulled up in various trucks and SUVs.

  “Hey, what’s this about?” he asked.

  “Alaina said the work out here would be done this morning, so we came over to give Emily a jump start on taming the jungle.”

  Emily stared. “That’s awful nice,” she said, “but you really shouldn’t... It’s too much.”

  Sarah put her arm around Emily’s shoulders. “Don’t be silly. Trent has told us how wonderful you’ve been about everything. We want to show our gratitude.”

  “Besides,” Parker added, “how else can we have a barbecue in your yard tonight?” He turned and looked at Trent. “Hope you don’t mind us horning in, but once the idea got started, it charged through the family the way a stampede clears everything in front of it.”

  “You guys are amazing,” Emily said, choking up.

  “Nah, we’re just stubborn, EmGee,” Morgan declared. With Stella Luna being boarded at the Crazy Horse, Emily had gotten to know Trent’s niece quite well, though the nickname, EmGee, had actually been devised by her younger sister, who loved to make up new words.

  Jackson took over directing family members to various locations around the yard, leaving Trent with Emily.

  “I know you have ideas for landscaping the place,” he said, “but I doubt they’ll do anything that interferes. They just want to show their appreciation.”

  Emily’s smile peeked out through her tears.

  “You don’t realize what they’re doing, do you?” she asked. “There are a dozen ways to tell someone ‘thank you,’ but they came to show that you’re no longer alone with all the horrible things that happened here. Your family is saying they love you.”

  Warmth flooded him. It was true; he just hadn’t seen it immediately.

  Emily sniffed. “I’m a sentimental dope. Tell the crew inside I’m sorry I can’t do anything right now, but I’ll be working on the yard today.”

  Again, before he knew quite how to react, she dashed away.

  * * *

  EMILY DOVE INTO trimming bushes, not wanting to get overly emotional. The McGregors were the nicest people. She knew they had oil money, but despite their wealth, they worked hard and seemed to enjoy doing it.

  When she tried to order something for lunch, Sarah stopped her. “We’re all set. We’ve got coolers filled with cold drinks, and boxes of food to munch.”

  “Grandpa Parker also brought a gas grill on the truck,” DeeDee told her. “Trent said you have one in your outdoor kitchen, but Grandpa thought we’d need extra cook space for such a big crowd.”

  With that, Parker fired up the grills and began cooking hamburgers and hot dogs for the family and Big Sky crew alike.

  “Sure missed you inside today, Em,” Caveman told her as he ate his third burger, loaded with two thick patties.

  “Big-time,” the other members of the crew affirmed.

  Trent stayed silent and Emily swallowed her disappointment. What did she expect, protestations of undying devotion?

  Friendship without romance was possible—Nicole was chums with a male model who worked for the same agency she did, and there wasn’t a speck of romance between them. But Trent didn’t have many friends in the first place, and no matter what they’d discussed about friendship, he wasn’t likely to become buddies with a scatterbrained woman who talked to houses and hung crystals in her windows.

  Besides, it might be easier if she didn’t see him often.

  Emily shook the speculations away. Thinking about Trent was a bad habit and she didn’t want it turning into self-pity. Friends might think about each other occasionally, but they didn’t constantly wonder what every nuance meant. Though that didn’t mean she was in love with him.

  Drat. Even after telling herself not to, she was still thinking about the guy.

  “Did I see tree-trimming equipment in the truck?” Trent asked Parker as the other members of the crew disappeared inside the house.

  “You betcha.” Parker turned to Emily. “I assume you want that black cottonwood taken out since it’s long dead, but what should we do with the rest?”

  Emily shook her head. “You’ve all been wonderful, but that’s too much for you to do. I’ll hire a tree service.”

  “Dad, if you’ll do the pruning Emily wants, Jackson and I can deal with the dead cottonwood,” Trent said to Parker, ignoring the protest.

  Parker winked. “Sounds like a plan.”

  The family returned to work and Emily was amazed anew. She’d expected to spend weeks clearing the yard, but by the end of the day, the wilderness had been transformed into an orderly space, with heavy mulch laid down to control growth where she didn’t want it. There was even a rough lawn, the weeds having been whacked into submission.

  Dinner in the early evening was as delicious as lunch had been—barbecued chicken and steaks, with side dishes from the coolers brought by the McGregors and Nelsons.

  Trent was as cheerful as she’d ever seen him and Emily tried to be glad. She liked happy endings and he was probably going to get one, at least when it came to his family.

  As for herself, Wild Rose Cottage was turning into a real home, and that would have to be her own happy ending.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EMILY WOKE THE next morning trying to understand why she was depressed, then told herself it was ridiculous. The McGregors and Nelsons had done something extraordinarily nice for her. Now she could start landscaping the garden immediately with time to get plantings established before the onset of winter.

  The crew gathered at the usual time for coffee and a snack before heading upstairs, but Trent stayed behind.

  “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you about this last night, but there’s a problem with the master bath tiles,” he explained. “When the shipment arrived we checked the top layers, but we should have gone deeper. Yesterday Eduardo found the ones below have quality issues.”

  With a sigh, Emily told herself she should have known better. Trent had warned her that the manufacturer wasn’t reliable, but she’d liked the tiles, and at the time, she hadn’t liked him that much. So she’d gone the opposite direction of what he’d advised.

  “Go ahead and get it over with,” she said, resigned. “You must be dying to say, ‘I told you so.’”

  He grinned and it struck her that he was getting much better at smiling. “What about the adage ‘the customer is always right’?”

  “Except we both know customers can make decisions that really suck.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe, but we can fix this one. I’ll take you over to Big Sky so you can see what we have in stock. If we have something you like, we won’t have to delay finishing the master bath.” He didn’t have to tell her that specialty tiles could take weeks to receiv
e.

  “Okay.” Emily wondered if the tile problem explained why she’d been depressed earlier. Wild Rose Cottage could be sad about the tile problem... Yeah, that must be it.

  Grabbing her purse, she followed Trent outside. “I could take my car,” she suggested. “You don’t need to drive me.

  “I’m heading right back anyway,” he said. “And if you like something we have in stock, I’ll bring a pallet of the tiles with me.”

  He opened the door and she climbed into the high cab, trying not to look toward the truck bed where they’d slept under the stars. If she’d only stayed as strong the night of the barbecue and auction as she had that evening at the farmhouse, she might not be fighting her heart so much now.

  * * *

  ALAINA SAW TRENT’S truck pull into the construction yard and came out to greet Emily, delighted for a chance to share her news.

  “Trent told me what happened,” she said first. “I’ve already contacted the company. They’ve apologized and issued a refund, claiming some sort of glitch.”

  Alaina followed Trent and Emily to the warehouse, where a display area showed which products they had in stock.

  It was unusual for her brother to stand around while a client looked at samples—he really did have lousy social skills. Of course, with everything that had happened, the situation with Emily was far from normal.

  “I can stay if you want to do paperwork in the office,” Alaina told him. “There’s a big stack of estimates waiting for your approval.”

  Trent cast a glance at Emily, who was carefully studying the samples. “All right. Emily, give a shout if you have any questions.”

  “Thanks.” Once they were alone, Emily abandoned the tiles and looked at Alaina. “Okay, I can tell you’ve got something you’re bursting to tell me about. What is it?”

  “Mike has agreed to coach Big Sky’s Little League team next year, and I don’t think it’s because he’s trying to make me happy. He also has another appointment with the principal at the high school, so he may be considering that coaching job, too.”

  “Terrific,” Emily exclaimed. “He’d be a great coach.”