Hannah nodded. “Half a cup would be fine. Otherwise, I’ll still be awake when Henry starts cock-a-doodle-doing in the morning.”
Brett poured the coffee and handed her the cup.
She smiled. “You remembered to add creme.”
“And sugar. Did you inherit your artistic talent from your mom or dad?”
Hannah’s smile disappeared. “That was a fast change of subject.”
“I was hoping to catch you off guard. You don’t talk about your family very much.”
“I could say the same about you.”
Brett sat in a chair and sipped his coffee. “Occupational hazard. There aren’t many people on the ranch, and the cows don’t seem to care.”
Hannah picked up a brush and gave it a firm rub with another sheet of newspaper. “As far as I know, mom and dad were never interested in any form of art.”
“Why was your dad sent to prison?”
She stopped rubbing the bristles. “It’s not important any more.”
Brett cradled his coffee cup in his hands. “My dad was an alcoholic. Whiskey was his downfall, but he’d drink anything he could find.”
Hannah stared at the small container of paint thinner beside her easel. She didn’t talk about her dad to anyone except Claire. But tonight, with everyone else in bed, it didn’t seem quite so painful to remember her father’s sad life. “Dad started his criminal career with burglary, then moved into selling drugs and, finally, aggravated assault.”
“He doesn’t sound like someone you’d want to be around.”
“Mom was codependent. She couldn’t live without him, even when he treated her badly.”
“You and your sister survived.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like that,” Hannah said softly. “Claire and I were placed in foster care when I was eight years old.”
“That must have been hard.”
“The first family we stayed with were okay. But by the time we’d moved three times, Claire and I weren’t the best kids to be around. Our case manager thought it would be better if we were split up. So she placed us with different families. We ran away.”
“How old were you?”
“The first time?”
Brett didn’t seem surprised. “How many times did you run away?”
“About four. By the time I was eighteen, I thought I’d lived through the worst years of my life. I was wrong.”
“Did your dad get an early parole?”
Hannah shook her head. “No. Mom overdosed on heroin and then disappeared.”
“What did you do?”
“We tried to find her, but she hadn’t gone to any of her usual places. One day she just turned up out of nowhere. She told us she was clean and wanted us to be a family again. We didn’t realize she meant dad as well. Luckily, Claire already had a job, so I lived with her while I went to college.”
Brett’s eyebrows rose.
“I know. Even I was surprised when I got a scholarship. Claire pushed me to apply for as many as we could find. The one that I was awarded covered all my tuition and living costs. I don’t know how we would have managed without the scholarship.”
“Why didn’t you become a full-time artist?”
Hannah dropped her chin to her chest. When she lifted her head, tears filled her eyes. “When I finished college, I needed to help pay the bills. We moved to Bozeman and I got a job as a nursing assistant. Once we’d saved some money, we decided the time was right to start Perfect Staging.”
“You gave up your dream?”
“Claire was my rock. She gave up so much for me. I can paint later, but for now, I need to help my sister make her dream come true.” She wiped her eyes and tried to smile. “So now you know some of my deep, dark secrets.”
“You’re more than your past, Hannah. You should be proud of what you’ve done with your life.”
“I am. It’s just that sometimes…”
“It all comes back faster than you can push it away?”
She nodded.
Brett took a deep breath. “I know the feeling. My mom suffered from depression. She committed suicide when I was seventeen years old. Before that, I’d been working part time on the McConachies’ ranch. When they heard what had happened, they asked if I wanted to stay with them. I feel the same way about Pat and Ida as you do about your sister. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”
“Where is your dad?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to think he sorted out his life, but I doubt it. If I ever get married and have a family, I’m going to be the best dad I can be.”
“I try not to think about having children,” Hannah said quietly. “It’s a huge responsibility. I’m not even sure I’d make a good mom.”
“What we’ve been through makes us stronger. I used to worry about having a family too, but you just have to take everything one day at a time.”
The grandfather clock downstairs started chiming.
Hannah looked at her watch and frowned. “I can’t believe it’s midnight.”
“I’ll give you a hand to clean your brushes. What do I need to do?”
Hannah stood and picked up one of the brushes she’d already cleaned. “I’ll be okay. You wake up a lot earlier than I do.”
Brett smiled. “I thought you were going to say that I needed my beauty sleep more than you do.”
“Well…now that you mention it…”
Brett stood and tapped the end of her nose. “Careful. I have a fragile ego.”
Hannah laughed. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. A lot of women like men who are a little rough around the—”
Brett’s mouth landed on hers.
She couldn’t think, couldn’t find any reason why this was a bad idea. Her arms circled his neck, pulling him close.
Brett deepened the kiss, sweeping his arms around her and lifting her onto her toes.
Hannah gave in to the need making her knees weak. Maybe it was because she was tired. Maybe it was because she wanted something she’d never had before. Or, maybe, in some strange way, Brett’s quiet acceptance of her broken life made her feel whole.
She froze, suddenly aware of where her thoughts were going. She stepped away and held the back of a chair. “I can’t…I don’t need—”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” Brett reached for his jacket, shoving his arms into the sleeves.
Hannah took another shaky breath. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said half-desperately. “I mean, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just happened, that’s all.” As soon as her words left her mouth, she regretted them. The kiss hadn’t just happened. She’d been attracted to Brett from the first time they’d met. And the more time she spent with him, the harder it would be to say goodbye.
Brett ran his hand through his hair. “I should go. Goodnight.” He lifted the coffee pot off its stand, collected their mugs, and headed downstairs.
Hannah sank into a chair. Falling for Brett was the last thing she needed. But what she needed didn’t mean diddly-squat when her lips were pressed against his.
She closed her eyes and sighed. What had she done?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Brett swung his ax high, then brought it down hard on the chopping block. The wooden log split into two, falling onto the snow-covered ground. For the last three hours, he’d been on the ranch with Thomas, catching up on the jobs he hadn’t done two days ago.
He still regretted what had happened on Monday night. Kissing Hannah was the last thing he should have done. She’d already told him she didn’t have time for anything other than work but had he listened? No. So at two o’clock yesterday morning, he’d decided the best thing he could do was stay out of her way. Once she’d finished cataloging Pat and Ida’s art collection, she’d go home, bury herself in work, and forget about him.
But keeping away from her had been harder than he thought. Now that Christmas was only a few days away, Mrs. Bennett insisted on everyone having breakfast and dinner together. He
’d caught himself staring at Hannah, remembering how right she’d felt pressed against his body. She’d smelled like honey-baked apples and tasted sweeter than Mrs. Bennett’s chocolate fudge brownies.
He split another three logs before stacking the wood in the wheelbarrow. Pat had been right. He had a lot in common with Hannah, but those same things would drive them apart. Neither of them had come from stable homes. They’d relied on strangers to give them something resembling a normal life. Nothing short of a miracle would ever make them ready for a relationship, especially with each other.
“Hey, boss.”
He looked up to see Thomas leaning out of the barn’s second-floor window.
“A truck’s coming up the driveway. Was someone coming to see Mr. McConachie?”
“If they were, Pat’s forgotten. He left for Bozeman an hour ago. Where’s Dave?”
“He hasn’t come back from checking the fences. Do you want me to call him?”
“No, don’t do that. I’ll see who’s here first.” Thanks to Dave’s father, they’d all been careful when answering the phone and making sure no unexpected visitors came to the ranch. It turned out that Dave’s dad was in debt for a lot more than three hundred dollars. And he owed the most money to a well-known group of criminals. Any of them could come out here to find Dave.
Brett pulled his hat low and walked toward Pat’s home. Whoever was driving, wasn’t wasting any time. Snow arched liked a waterfall behind the truck’s tires. Driving like a lunatic wasn’t an intelligent thing to do at the best of times, let alone in the middle of winter.
By the time he’d made it across to the house, the truck had stopped and a pair of jean-clad legs climbed out of the cab.
He’d recognize the blond-haired woman anywhere. “Claire? I thought you were in San Diego.”
“I came home early. Is Hannah here?”
“She’s probably inside.”
Claire took an envelope off the dashboard. “Can I see her?”
“Sure. I’ll show you where she’s been working.”
“I can’t believe how cold it is compared to San Diego. I was terrified our plane wouldn’t land safely.”
Brett opened the front door. “You didn’t have to worry. The pilots have flown in worse weather than this.” He stood in the hallway, listening for the sound of fingers tapping against a keyboard. The kitchen and the living room were silent. “She could be in the dining room.”
“I thought she might have finished the catalog by now.”
“So did I.” Hannah wasn’t in the dining room, either. “We’ll go upstairs. She’ll either be in her studio or in the attic.”
“How many paintings do the McConachies own?”
“Enough to fill a gallery.” Brett stopped on the landing. Hannah wasn’t sitting at her desk, so he walked to the attic staircase.
Claire hadn’t moved.
“Are you okay?”
She pointed to a small painting. “Is this what I think it is?”
“I guess it depends on what you think it is.”
“If I’m reading the signature correctly, it’s a painting by Winslow Homer.”
Brett nodded, but Claire didn’t notice. She wore the same expression that Hannah did each time she looked at some of the paintings. It was half-way between awe and shock, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Claire stepped closer to the canvas. “Winslow Homer’s paintings are exhibited at galleries around the world. I can’t believe the McConachies own one of his paintings.”
“Ida bought a lot of art. She used to spend most of her evenings looking through auction catalogs.”
Claire looked at the other paintings. “She liked landscapes.”
“They reminded her of how important it is to look after the land. I’ll see if Hannah’s in the attic.”
“I’ll come with you. Hannah told me about the unsigned painting she found. Has Nick sent it to New York City yet?”
“The security company collected it yesterday.” The lights were on in the attic, so the chances were high that Hannah was working there. Before he climbed the stairs, he turned to Claire. “I’m not sure how to say this without sounding over-the-top, but I have to say it. Could you not say anything to anyone about Pat and Ida’s art collection? Until our new security system is installed, we don’t want anyone else knowing about the paintings.”
“Don’t worry. Hannah told me to be careful. I won’t say anything.”
“Thank you.” He walked upstairs and stood in the doorway. Hannah was wrapping a small painting in tissue paper. “Your sister’s here.”
She jumped, nearly knocking the painting off the edge of the table. “I didn’t hear you come up the stairs. Claire’s here?”
Claire tapped him on the back. “I can’t get by you.”
Brett stepped into the room. Before he could read too much into Hannah’s flushed cheeks, Claire rushed around him and hugged her sister.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home today?” Hannah asked. “I could have picked you up from the airport.”
“I didn’t know myself until last night. The meetings I’d planned finished ahead of time. Christmas Eve is a terrible time to travel, so I thought I’d catch an earlier flight. I’ve already been by the house and collected our mail.” Claire looked at the paintings on the table. “You’ve been busy.”
“I’ve enjoyed every minute, but it’s taking longer than I thought.”
Claire grinned at her sister. “I could help but, first, I’ve got something to tell you.”
Hannah frowned. “You didn’t buy the chandelier, did you?”
“No, but I was tempted. This is a hundred times better than a chandelier.”
Brett cleared his throat. He had a huge pile of wood to chop and only a few hours of daylight left. “I’ll leave the two of you to catch up on what you’ve been doing. If you need me, I’ll be by the barn with Thomas.”
“Wait,” Claire said excitedly. “You can be the first person to congratulate Hannah.” She handed her sister the envelope she’d taken off her dashboard.
“What’s this?”
“Do you remember the application you made to the Judith Carr University?”
“For their artist-in-residence program? That was ages ago.”
“They’ve sent you a letter.”
Hannah looked at the envelope and frowned. “It’s probably thanking me for my application. They’ve already announced the artists who were accepted into the program.”
Claire grinned. “Open the envelope.”
Brett had never heard of the Judith Carr University but, from the hopeful look on Hannah’s face, it seemed important to her. She carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper.
“It’s an invitation,” she murmured.
“Keep reading,” Claire urged.
Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe it. They’ve offered me one of their positions. This is…I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes. It’s what you’ve wanted for a long time.”
Hannah’s eyes darted to Brett.
“Congratulations,” he said quickly. “I don’t know what being an artist-in-residence involves, but anything that gives you more time to paint would be worth it.”
It was almost as if his words extinguished Hannah’s excitement.
She looked at her sister. “What about Perfect Staging? When I first looked at the residency, we didn’t have as many clients. You can’t run our business on your own.”
“I could hire someone to help me.” Claire held onto Hannah’s hands. “This is a huge honor. Artists from around the world want to be part of this program. A lady from the university left a message on our answering machine. They’re really looking forward to having you on campus.”
Brett focused on Hannah. She still didn’t seem convinced that the residency was for her. “Where is the university?”
“It’s in Vancouver. It’s a twelve-month program.”
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His heart sank.
“They need to know if I’m accepting the position by the end of January.”
“That’s not far away,” he murmured.
“I wouldn’t start the residency until mid-April. At least that would give Claire and I time to find someone to help her.”
“Exactly,” Claire said. “It’s a wonderful opportunity.”
It probably was, but Brett couldn’t find anything exciting about Hannah’s news. “I need to go back to work. It was nice seeing you again, Claire.”
“Same here. Let me know if my truck is in your way. I can move it somewhere else.”
“It’s okay where it is.” He left the attic, walked out of the house, and called himself every fool under the sun. Keeping away from Hannah wouldn’t be a problem in a few months because she would be gone.
***
“What have you done to Brett?” Claire asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. The man practically ran from the attic when you told him the residency program is in Vancouver.”
“He has a thing about Vancouver at the moment.”
Claire smiled. “Are you sure he hasn’t got a thing for you?”
Hannah didn’t answer her sister. She didn’t need to. The heat in her face flamed hotter than the worst sunburn she’d ever had. “I’m not getting involved with anyone. Even if my application for the residency hadn’t been approved, I still wouldn’t have time for a relationship.”
“Of course you have time. Just because mom and dad hated each other, it doesn’t mean every relationship is bad. Look at Holly and Daniel. They can’t live without each other.”
“That’s different. They both have successful careers. They know what they want out of life.”
Claire crossed her arms. “And you don’t?”
“What I want is complicated.” Hannah carefully placed a wrapped painting into a wooden storage frame.
“It’s only as complicated as you want to make it.”
Hannah sighed. “I’m not like you. I can’t go with the flow and see what happens.”
“Thank goodness you’re not like me. Perfect Staging wouldn’t be where it is today without your business plans and event schedules.” Claire leaned against the table. “But you can’t choose who you like and don’t like.”
The Gift (The Protectors Book 6) Page 9