“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
Because it made him want to laugh, too. But he didn’t say that. “Because it keeps you from yelling at me for being a jerk.”
She chuckled. “It’s all part of an evil ploy, is that it?”
“Of course.” He coughed to cover the vulnerable crack in his shell. “Anyway, I think you should hang the cabinets.”
“You just want to get that guy out of your driveway.”
“No, that’s not why.” He slid the sunglasses back on his face and felt the distance build between them when he did. “Sometimes, Olivia, it’s important not to give up on a lost cause.”
He turned to go, calling Chance to his side as he moved down the stairs.
“Hey, Luke?”
He pivoted back. “Yeah?”
She leaned against the jamb, looking so pretty and perfect, he could have framed her as a picture. “Why don’t I go talk to the cabinet guy and you stay here? It’s hot out and I don’t know about you but I could use some lemonade. I have some already made, chilling in the fridge.”
The thought of icy lemonade, something he hadn’t had in forever, made his mouth water. That and the thought of being with Olivia, kissing her, touching her. Just being with her, hearing that laugh, seeing that smile.
Damn. He should go home, stay there, mix his own lemonade. Instead, he gave her a smile and asked, “Freshly made or powdered mix?”
“Honey, I squeeze my own lemons.” She laughed. “Okay, that sounded really bad.”
He’d thought the word honey sounded nice. Especially coming from her, with that little throaty touch she gave the words. “I disagree. It sounded really good to me. I like a woman who squeezes her own.”
She laughed again. “Well, come on in, then, and keep me company this afternoon. I’ve had a heck of a day and after I deal with the cabinet guy, I’m thinking it’d be nice to sit on the lanai with a glass of lemonade and some cookies.”
He thought of heading back to his hot, dim house. Of sitting alone in the dark again. Of eating leftover pizza for the thousandth time. Then he thought of Olivia’s laugh, her lemonade, and her offer. “Lemonade and cookies sounds . . . perfect.”
As he walked into her house and followed Olivia into the kitchen, he realized the real reason he was here. After sending that letter and opening a door he’d vowed to lock forever, Luke Winslow didn’t want to be alone. Not with his thoughts and not with himself.
And definitely not when the response to that letter came. Aw, shit. What the hell had he done?
* * *
A few minutes later, Olivia sat beside Luke under the shady covering of the lanai while a warm, soft breeze whispered through the screened space. Ice cubes clinked as she poured them each some lemonade and put a plate of cookies from Tasty Tidbits Bakery on the end table. Luke thanked her for the lemonade, then sat back in the chair. Chance settled himself at Luke’s feet.
“You’ve definitely made a friend,” she said.
“He’s probably hoping I drop my cookie.”
Chance’s ears perked up at the word cookie. Olivia smiled. Seemed someone was spoiling that dog.
“I think he’s attached to you.”
“Yeah, we’re making friends.” Luke rubbed Chance’s ears. The dog let out a contented groan.
“Chance needs a friend,” Olivia said. “Diana told me he wasn’t microchipped, so she left messages at the other area shelters in case someone is looking for him or for the mother dog with the puppies, but there’ve been no calls for either of them. I’m going to put up some flyers tomorrow.”
The dog leaned his body against Luke’s leg, tail thumping on the concrete floor. “He’s a good dog. Someone’s surely missing him.”
“You would think, but sometimes people don’t miss the things they’re supposed to love.”
An odd comment, and one that piqued his curiosity. Someone had hurt Olivia Linscott, and hurt her bad. But he didn’t ask, because he didn’t want to reciprocate with his life story. “So now you have the cabinets. What are you going to do with them?”
“I don’t know. This house is a project that grows by the minute. It’s like a weed. As soon as you turn your back, it’s quadrupled in size.”
He chuckled. “I think you can say that about every fixer-upper.”
“They make it sound so easy on the TV shows. Just slap this up here, take that down there, add a little paint, and voilà, you’re living in a magazine spread.”
He rolled the cold glass between his palms. “The truth is rarely as easy as the fiction.”
“You can say that again.” She took a long sip of lemonade and thought about why she had come here, why she still kept shying away from probing for answers. Maybe she didn’t want to know the truth, after all these years of writing her own fiction about who Bridget was and why she’d abandoned her newborn in the hospital. Olivia glanced down at Chance, who had shied away from her in the beginning, so scared of being hurt again. How she could relate.
She ran a finger along the rim of her glass. “You know, a part of me wants to admit Mike is right, and that I should just get out of this house before I get in too deep.”
Did she mean too deep with the house, or with him, too? And why did he care? If he were smart, he’d be encouraging her to go, because that was far easier than dealing with the complications if she stayed. “But . . . ?”
“But the other part of me, the part that came here for a new start, and for answers, can’t do that. If I let go of this house, I let go of what my biological mother left me. It’s not much and yeah, it’s an eyesore, but it’s pretty much all I have from her. I can’t . . . abandon it.” The last two words scraped past her throat, raw, real.
True.
Olivia couldn’t give up on the house. Walk away from it. Leave it to fend for itself or sell it to another. She had something to prove, to a woman who was no longer here, as illogical as that sounded, and maybe in the course of all this, prove something to herself, too.
“Like she abandoned you,” Luke said.
Olivia nodded, her throat thick. She cursed the tears that came to her eyes because they said she was still hurt by that, even all these years later. She prayed Luke couldn’t see the tears and that he wouldn’t press her to talk, because right this second, she’d only blubber.
She glanced around the screened-in lanai. A blue indoor-outdoor carpet covered the concrete floor and made the ivy-patterned cushions stand out against the white furniture. Had her mother sat here, at the end of a long day, enjoying an iced drink and a last bit of warm air? Had she looked out over the green expanse of lawn and wondered where her firstborn was? If she was happy?
Olivia settled back against the cushioned seat and closed her eyes. Her fingers fluttered to the butterfly necklace and for a second, it seemed as if Bridget were here, in this room, sitting in the opposite chair. Asking Olivia what she was going to do with her legacy.
“I can’t let go of the house,” Olivia said. “Smart or not, I can’t walk away.”
“I didn’t think you would,” Luke said.
She opened her eyes. “Why not?”
“You are too damned determined to do that. You have been from the first day I met you, traipsing all over my yard, even when I told you to get out.” He leaned forward. “You are the most determined woman I know. You don’t quit, Olivia.”
“Even when an ogre roars at me?” A smile curved up her face.
“Even then.”
She took a sip of lemonade and faced the reality. She might want to keep the house and get it renovated, but she was only one person with a very small budget. “You have a point. But cabinet hanging requires two people, something I didn’t think of when I ordered them.”
Apparently getting distracted by all the shiny new knobs and faucets in Home Depot meant not thinking through the installation process. She couldn’t have been more naïve if she’d hung a sign around her neck that read GULLIBLE.
“Yup, hanging cabinets is
a two-person job,” Luke said. “And unless Chance or Miss Sadie grows some opposable thumbs, there’s only you.”
She sat back against the chair and let out a sigh. “I know. I’ve been doing everything I can on my own, but right now, every muscle in my body is ready to stage a mutiny. I have pain in places I didn’t even know I had nerves.”
He chuckled. “You know, I could help you.”
“You . . . what?” Had she heard him right?
“I used to work for a construction company in the summers during high school. It’s not like I have a contractor’s license or anything, but I can handle the basics. And if we need an expert, Mike knows how to do almost anything.”
“Mike’s expertise called this house a lost cause.”
“Yeah, well, he called me one too, this morning.” Luke took a long drink of lemonade, then changed the subject. “Anyway, Mike was probably just trying to save you a lot of hard work. He’s a guy. He thinks with his head, not his heart.”
“I guess that makes me the sentimental fool, huh?” she said. That would describe her, in a hundred ways. Holding on to a marriage that ended almost as soon as she said I do, moving to the other end of the country because she thought a house could bring her close to someone she’d never known, hanging on to a dream when others would have walked away.
“Nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.”
Her gaze held his for a long moment while birds chirped outside the screened walls of the lanai and a breeze rustled through the trees. She could lose herself in those blue eyes, become a sentimental fool again for a guy who wasn’t interested in the same future she was. “Thanks.”
Luke cleared his throat. “So if you want help, I’m here. With this . . . issue”—he waved at his eyes—“I doubt I’d be much good with the drill and those teeny-tiny screws, but I could be the brawn.”
Oh, he was brawn all right. Just the thought of him flexing in front of her made her mouth go dry. “You’re the brawn, so that must make me the brains?” she teased.
“And the beauty.” A slight grin curved up one side of his face, and then just as quickly it disappeared, as if the flirting took him by surprise. Luke got to his feet, which made Chance scramble to all four paws. “How many cabinets do you have to hang?”
“Ten. And three base cabinets that I’m sure are too heavy for me to wriggle into place.”
“Got a good cordless drill?”
“Um, is a DeWalt a good one? The guy at the store said it was the best one he had.”
“Phew. Yeah, DeWalt is great. I was afraid you’d tell me all you had on hand was a Phillips screwdriver and we’d be doing all this by hand.”
“Oh, I’m loaded up with all kinds of tools. Tools I have no idea how to use, I might add.” She chuckled, then opened the door and led Luke back into the house. Chance brought up the rear, keeping his distance behind Luke, as if sensing the man’s difficulty with seeing the path ahead. Chance kept glancing up at Luke, his love for the man showing in his brown eyes.
Luke might not realize it, but that dog already had a lifelong loyalty to his human caretaker. In a way, Olivia hoped she never found Chance’s real owner, because the dog had clearly already found the owner he wanted.
Olivia flicked on the overhead light in the kitchen, bathing the room in a hundred and twenty watts of brightness. It had taken three tries and a lot of quality time on Google, but she had the ceiling fan and light kit installed. Every time she flicked that switch and was rewarded with light, it filled her with pride. Not exactly Harriet Homebuilder, but close enough to have light.
She grabbed the drill, then turned to Luke. He’d followed closer than she’d expected, and only a few inches separated her from him. She drew in a breath, told herself to stop staring at the planes of his chest, to stop fantasizing about the last time he’d kissed her. How close they’d come to making love. So, so close.
She swallowed hard. “Last chance to back out.”
“Back out?” He shook his head, slow and easy. “Sorry, but I never back away from a challenge.”
“And you think my kitchen is a challenge?” Damn, he smelled nice. Whatever cologne he wore, it curled around her with tempting fingers, urging her closer, closer. To touch him, to press her cheek to his, to do so much more than that.
“Everything about you is a challenge, Olivia.”
God, she loved the way her name rolled off his tongue. How did he make it sound like a caress and a song at the same time? “I could say the same about you.”
He reached up and swept her bangs off her forehead, then let his fingers trail down her face, along her jaw. Her lips parted at his touch, and her heart hammered in her chest. She wanted to back up, wanted to move closer, but most of all, she wanted him. Back on the lanai he had taken his sunglasses off and she stared up at those stunning blue eyes, so full of contradictions and mysteries.
“I’m not a challenge,” he said. “What you see is what you get.”
And what she saw was very, very nice indeed. Hot liquid pooled in her gut, and a rush of desire raced through her. If she closed her eyes, she’d picture taking him back to her bedroom, ripping back the fluffy white girly comforter, thrusting her onto the bed, and plunging into her in heated, almost savage need.
A bone-deep carnal need brewed inside her. Need for this man—still, essentially a stranger—and for him to fulfill the fantasies that filled her nights and left her in a tangled mess of sheets. But at the same time, a part of her shied away, remembering how very easy it was to get caught up in the fantasy—and end up hurt.
“What I see is a whole lot of cabinets that need to be hung,” she said. The words shook as they came out of her throat, but they did what the commonsense side of her wanted—made Luke back up a step, his hand dropping away from her face. Disappointment curdled in her stomach, and her hormones cried foul. “So uh, let’s get to work.”
“Good idea.” A shadow dropped over his features, and the sexy grin disappeared. “Show me where you want the first one to go.”
The mood between them shifted from sexy banter to all business. She told herself she was glad.
It took them a few minutes to sort out the cabinets and their places on the wall, then draw a level line for the upper cabinets. Luke reached down and hoisted the first upper cabinet into place. She tried to reach past his arm to screw the cabinet to the wall, then realized her arms weren’t long enough. “I, uh, need to get in front of you to do this.”
He shifted his legs back, creating a triangle of space between the cabinet and his chest. She slipped into the space, hesitating for a second because she forgot why she was here. Her heart raced, every ounce of her aware of his body, so close.
She shook her head, refocused. Reached up and put the first screw into the wall. The drill whined, and the screw spun back and fell onto the countertop. “Whoops. I’m, uh, in reverse, I think.”
“A little distracted?” Luke’s deep voice tickled a warm path down her neck.
She flicked a glance at him. “I’m just not familiar with this . . . tool.”
The minute she said the word, she heard the innuendo, and the flames rushed through her body and up to her cheeks. What was it about Luke Winslow that had her acting like an infatuated high school girl with her first crush?
“Need some help? Working the tool?”
God yes, she wanted to work a few tools with him. The kind you wouldn’t find in Home Depot, that was for sure.
“No, I got it.” She pressed the button above the trigger, switching the motor to forward, then leaned toward the cabinet back. This time, the screw bit into the wood, then the wall, and sank in place with a final screech. She scrabbled on the piece of plywood serving as a temporary countertop for a second screw, then the rest in quick succession. “All done.”
Luke stepped back, and Olivia held her breath, half expecting the cabinet to peel off the wall and crash to the floor. But it held.
“Would you look at that? Miracles do happen,” she
said. Pride swelled again in her chest, along with hope that maybe Luke was right and she could pull this renovation off. His brawn and her brains made a decent team.
He chuckled. “Renovation work is like anything else. The more you do, the better you get.”
“By the time I’m done with this house, I should have my own show on HGTV.” She grabbed four more screws. “Ready for the next one?”
“Just point me in the right direction.”
They repeated the pattern from before, with her guiding him into place with the cabinet, then slipping in front of his body to fasten it to the wall. The whole time they were hanging the cabinets, she kept up a constant chatter about the oak finish, the bronze handles she’d bought, the mental debate she’d had about laminate versus granite countertops. Talking kept her from thinking about the heat emanating from Luke’s body, how her hips brushed his thighs several times, how it wouldn’t take much more than a slight shift to press her butt against his cock. How only a few scraps of fabric separated her from him. A few snaps, a couple of zippers and he could be inside her, pressing her body against the wooden frame beneath her, sending her brain and her body into stratospheres she hadn’t seen in a long, long time.
“You want this someplace special? Or do you just like seeing me holding the cabinet?”
“Oh. Sorry. Right there.” She pointed to the next spot on the wall. They repeated the process, and her brain went south the second Luke shifted his hips behind hers.
The drill screeched, slipped off the screw, and dinged a gouge in the back of the cabinet. A ping-ping-ping announced the fleeing screw. “Uh, sorry. That one got away from me.”
Luke leaned in and whispered across her neck, sending a warm gush of want into the southern half of her body. “You sure you got this under control?”
No. “Yes.” She fished around for another screw and this time got it in place. But her hand shook and her heart fluttered and her concentration had deserted her.
My God, when had she turned into this horny, distracted person? Even with her ex, she’d never been this bad or felt this worked up and ready to rip off some clothes and get busy right this second. She needed some air-conditioning or a drink or therapy.
The Sweetheart Bargain (A Sweetheart Sisters Novel) Page 21