by Stacy Finz
Aidan signaled for the waitress to refill Dana’s iced tea. “Is that when it happened?”
“No, we made it home. Paul went upstairs, said he wanted to take a nap. We figured he was knocked out from spending the day in the sun. My mother checked on him a couple of hours later and he had white foam around his mouth and blue lips. She called 9-1-1, but Paul never made it to the hospital. He died en route.”
“Did the medical examiner find water in his lungs?” Aidan knew that was typically the case.
She nodded. “They said he died from asphyxiation from drowning.”
“Ah, jeez. How old was he?” Having seen many deaths in his line of work, Aidan knew it was the worst when the tragedy involved a child.
“Thirteen.”
“That’s rough.” He reached out and grasped her hand. “I’m really sorry, Dana.”
She gazed out over the restaurant, growing distant. “Thank you. It was a long time ago.”
The server came with all their food at once and the conversation changed to the weather.
“Is it always this hot here?” Aidan pushed the nachos closer to her.
“Hot in the summer and cold in the winter. But even so, it’s been unseasonably warm. And the drought hasn’t helped things.”
He nodded, stuffing his face with steak. The beef here was phenomenal. “What else did you do in Reno?”
“Got a bed.” She turned red and quickly deflected by adding, “And some suits for work.”
Clearly the attraction thing wasn’t one-sided, he mused. Yet there would be no beds involved between them. Nope, that would be a colossally bad idea.
“I guess it’ll take you a while to reacquire all the things you lost,” he said. “Was any of it irreplaceable?”
“Tins from my family’s candy company. I collect them. Some of the ones I lost were antiques.” She shrugged and tried to put on a good face. “Hey, it could’ve been worse, right?”
He wished all fire survivors saw it that way. “What kind of candy company?”
“Calloway Confections.” When she saw the name didn’t register with him, she said, “You’d know it if you were from California or Nevada. Chocolates, caramels, toffee.”
Aidan grinned. “You gonna bring home samples?”
And just like that Dana lit up. He’d seen her phony smiles in the real estate office this morning, but holy hell, a real Dana Calloway smile was something to behold. It was as if she shined from the inside out.
“You like candy?” she asked.
“I’ve been known to have a sweet tooth.”
“Then I’ll bring some home.”
“So why didn’t you work in the family business?” From the time he’d been a boy he’d known that, like his father, he’d be a firefighter. Same with his brothers. Sloane had been the only one to go in a different direction.
“I like real estate,” she said, but something in her demeanor told him there was more to the story. But he’d leave his investigative skills to the job; she was entitled to her privacy.
“Yeah? Is it pretty good in Nugget?”
“It’s getting there. Originally, I was in Tahoe. You can’t touch anything there for under a million dollars and the competition among agents was fierce. Here, I feel a little like the prospectors who founded this town . . . like there’s going to be a gold rush.”
“I thought Nugget was founded first by loggers and then the railroad.”
“Yep. But the Gold Rush helped feed this town. A lot of the first merchants made their fortunes from the miners.”
“Pretty interesting stuff. So you came to make your fortune?”
“Carol offered me a good opportunity, and I like the idea that her agency isn’t a national chain. Mom-and-pop, just like my family’s business.”
Tawny Wade and Lucky Rodriguez took the table next to theirs and Aidan waved. He only knew Tawny from the house and Lucky not at all, but the couple was pretty tight with his sister and Brady. They waved back and Tawny got up and came over.
“I heard from Carol that you two are sharing the house.” Wow, news traveled fast here. “I’m so sorry about the fire, Dana. What a terrible thing. Do they know how it started?”
“I left a candle burning,” she said, and looked down at her plate.
Aidan gave her credit for coming clean. “One of the most common causes of house fires,” he added.
“Are you planning to rebuild? Because that’s such a nice neighborhood.” Tawny glanced over at Lucky, who appeared to be ordering.
“As soon as Pat and Colin are done with your new house, they’ll start on mine.”
“That’s good. They’re doing the finish work on ours now, hallelujah. We’ve been living in a construction zone these past few weeks. But we needed to be on the property for the cowboy camp . . . and for planning the wedding. I should get back, but I’m glad two good people are living in my old house.”
When she left, Aidan asked, “You going to their wedding?”
“I don’t know them very well and wasn’t invited. I think Carol is going.”
He’d gotten the sense from Brady, who was catering the reception, that everyone in town, including him, was invited. Provided that he didn’t have to work, he planned to go because he’d never been to a wedding in a barn before. That was where they were holding it. It would’ve been nice to know someone there besides his sister and her fiancé.
They made random conversation while they ate, and when the bill came Aidan took it.
“What are you doing? Let’s split it down the middle,” Dana said.
“Nah, you only got a salad and I hijacked your table.”
“I ate your nachos.”
“They were for both of us. Don’t worry about it. You’ll get me next time. Plus, you’re supplying us with candy.” He put his credit card on the table and saw her glance over at Griffin and his girlfriend’s booth.
Aidan wondered what that was about. Maybe she was still hung up on the guy. The girl he was with was gorgeous, but she looked young. He figured Dana was in her late twenties—also young.
“When are you moving in?” he asked her.
“I’ll probably bring my toothbrush over tomorrow or during the weekend.” She laughed, and he thought she had a good attitude. Most people would still be crying over all they’d lost in the fire.
“They delivering your bed soon?”
“Tomorrow,” she said.
The waitress took the card. “Then I’ll probably see you tomorrow. I’m not on until Monday.”
After the bill got squared away, he walked her to the inn and helped her unload a few of her packages, then he went to Sloane and Brady’s.
“You want some dinner? There are leftovers in the fridge,” Sloane said. She was doing laundry to pack for her and Brady’s trip to San Francisco in the morning.
“I ate at the Ponderosa.”
She stopped what she was doing to look at him. “You dealing with this Sue thing?”
“What’s to deal with? I’m not sending a gift, if that’s what you mean.”
“Aid, don’t be such a guy. I know you; you’re dying inside.”
“I screwed up . . . not much I can do about it now.” He’d tried—just not hard enough.
“Why did you screw up? That’s the question. You think you’re one of those guys who’s afraid of marriage?”
“I don’t know.” He lifted his shoulder.
“Well, don’t you think you should try to figure it out?”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” The last thing he wanted to discuss with his sister was whether he had a commitment phobia. The sorry truth was he didn’t know. His parents had been married for close to forty years and still made out in the kitchen. So it wasn’t like he didn’t have good role models. Family had always been important to him and kids, yeah, he wanted them. Yet, with Sue, every time she’d brought up marriage his blood had run cold and his muscles tightened. The question was moot anyway; Sue was getting married this weeken
d.
He went up into the loft and turned on the TV. As far as Aidan was concerned, it was the best room in the house. Giant flat-screen, wet bar, big leather sofas. The rest of the house, except for the kitchen, was filled with flowery, slipcover crap. Poor Brady had to check his dick at the door.
Tomorrow would probably be his last night here. He’d use the weekend to unpack his stuff and get settled in at the new place before reporting to work. It would be interesting living with Dana. She was wound tighter than he usually rolled. He got the impression from earlier that she was the type to tack chore charts and bathroom schedules to the refrigerator. Hey, he’d been the one to suggest being roommates, and now he had to stick to it. At least her half of the rent would come in handy until he sold his condo and no longer had a mortgage to pay.
The problem was he’d never lived with a woman he wasn’t sleeping with, and Dana could become a temptation. In most cases, he wasn’t against doing what felt good as long as everyone knew the ground rules. But Dana didn’t strike him as the bootie-call roommate type. And he wasn’t ready for another relationship. He was too busy trying to figure out where the last one went wrong.
* * *
The next morning, Dana crammed herself into another pair of tight jeans compliments of the Millers. Ordinarily, she didn’t dress this casually to meet with clients, but today she was reshowing ranch property to a couple who’d recently sold their ten-acre spread in Sonoma County for a mint and were looking to relocate their sheep and alpaca farm to Plumas County.
She pulled on the new cowboy boots, thinking they would be perfect for walking through the thick brush during snake season. Last time she’d shown them the place, she’d worn high heels and felt like an idiot. Since then, she’d learned that looking professional meant dressing appropriately for the situation. You didn’t wear sweats to show a four-million-dollar mansion or Givenchy to sell a hog farm. For the final touch, she threw a lightweight blazer, a Macy’s purchase during her Reno foray, over a T-shirt. At least it was supposed to be cooler today.
Before leaving, she let her eyes roam around the lovely room. This would be her last night at the Lumber Baron. Tomorrow, she planned to move into the house. With Aidan. After last night’s dinner she was even more conflicted about the living situation. Not because she didn’t trust him—all concerns about him being a serial killer had vanished. But the man was too damned sure of himself. She could tell he thought he could get any woman he lay his eyes on. And the truth was he probably could. Although he wasn’t as classically handsome as Griffin, who reminded her of a young Matthew McConaughey, Aidan had the whole tall, dark, and rough thing going for him. The swarthy skin, slightly crooked nose, deep-set blue eyes, and angular face—very piratical. And he was strapping. More than two hundred pounds if Dana had to guess. All of it muscle.
When she got to the office, the Griswolds were already there. They’d driven up early that morning.
“You ready?” she asked, knowing they were raring to go.
Although the couple’s buyers—a neighboring grape grower who wanted to expand his vineyard—said they could rent back until the spring, they were anxious to be in a new place by fall to give their sheep and alpacas plenty of time to acclimate before the spring shearing. The Griswolds owned a wool and fleece business.
“We sure are,” Walt said, grinning. Dana liked them a lot.
They took her car to the property, which was seven miles outside of town.
“Did you do the research on the well?” Walt asked.
She motioned to the binder she had in the backseat. “It’s in there, along with the property survey. It looks like the seasonal creek is part of the parcel. And, Josephine, I talked to a local repairman about the Wedgewood stove. He’s pretty sure he can get it working again.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Josephine handed the binder to her husband. “What about the roof?”
“The owner says he hasn’t done anything for twelve years but that nothing leaks. My advice is that we add that to our list to get him to come down on the price. Maybe even get him to put on a new roof.”
“The well looks good,” Walt said. “According to this, it pumps one hundred and fifty gallons of water a minute.”
“I think our biggest concern is whether we’ll like it here.” Josephine sighed. “We have all those fabulous restaurants in Healdsburg, and San Francisco is only ninety minutes away.”
“Josephine, we can’t afford to live there anymore,” Walt chimed in.
Dana laughed. “That’s the problem with an overinflated real estate market. Even when you make a fortune on what you sell, everything costs a fortune. This is the deal here: no gourmet restaurants, no fair-trade, wait-an-hour-for-your-drip coffee places, and no trendy shops. And the closest thing to culture is cowboy poetry at the grange. But it’s real, it’s beautiful, and it’s affordable. And I think it’s the up and coming place . . . but don’t take that to the bank just yet.”
“You’re a good egg, Dana,” Walt said.
“You guys should stay at the Lumber Baron tonight . . . my treat. Get the flavor of the town, eat at the Ponderosa, maybe check out the mill pond in Graeagle. I’ll admit Nugget doesn’t have the chichi factor Healdsburg does, but it has its own charm. And more important, it’s retained its agricultural roots.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Walt said. “Sonoma has turned into a playground for the rich and famous.”
Two hours later, the Griswolds sat in Dana’s conference room, writing up paperwork for an offer. Dana had gone to get them cold drinks from the refrigerator when her cell phone rang. Aidan.
“Hi,” she said, surprised to hear from him. “What’s up?”
“I got called out on a suspicious fire in Lassen County. Looks like I’m gonna be here a few days. My moving truck is coming and my sister and Brady are in San Francisco. Any chance you could unlock the door and let the movers in?”
“What time?”
“They gave me a window of between two and six. Maybe you could put a note on the door to call as soon as they get there; that way you don’t have to wait for four hours.”
“All right. But how will they know where to put everything?”
“I’ll have to deal with it when I get home. Could you just make sure to lock up after everything’s delivered?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks, Dana. I’m sorry to stick you with this.”
“It’s not a problem.” She wanted to get a start on painting anyway.
After they ended the call she smiled at the Griswolds. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be silly.” Josephine waved her hand in the air. “Life happens.”
Indeed it did. “I’ll call the listing agent to let her know we have an offer and hopefully we’ll hear something soon. Should I see about getting you a room at the Lumber Baron?”
“We’ve got animals that need feeding and it’s a four-hour ride back,” Walt said. “As much as we’d like to take you up on your offer, we’ve got to get home, Dana.”
“All right. Keep your fingers crossed and your cell phone on. I’m thinking we should hear back fairly quickly. There will probably be some back and forth, though.”
“That’s what I figured,” Walt said.
Dana got their signatures, made sure the documents were in order, and walked the Griswolds out to their car.
“Let us know as soon as you hear something,” Josephine said.
“I will. It’s a good offer. Maybe a little less than he’s willing to take, but we’ve left you some wiggle room.”
She watched them drive away, went inside to email the offer to Century 21 in Quincy, and called to make sure they’d received the email and that the listing agent had her cell number. Before going to meet Aidan’s movers, Dana took a detour to Farm Supply with a gift for the Millers.
The store was the size of a warehouse and carried everything from tack and feed to clothes and kitchenware. Grace was at the counter, ringing up a custome
r, when Dana walked in. She browsed the aisles, waiting for Grace to finish.
“How you doing, Dana?” Grace called across the store.
“Good.” With the customer gone, Dana carried the basket she’d made to the cash register. “I just wanted to thank you so much for all the clothes. You saved my life.” She motioned at the jeans and the boots. “Did Carol tell you my sizes?”
“She sure did. My daughter and I had a wonderful time picking out everything. I’m glad it’s working for you. We don’t carry the suits and professional clothing you usually wear, but I figured you needed some starter pieces until you could get to a department store.”
“Everything is beautiful, Grace. I brought this for your family. It’s Calloway candy from my family’s business, coffee, and assorted other goodies.”
“Now, honey, you didn’t have to do that. I’m guessing you’ve got enough going on. Pat was in this morning and said you’re planning to rebuild, which I think is a wise decision. That’s a lovely neighborhood, and it seems to me a house there is worth something. But you’d know that better than I would.”
“I still have to see what I’ll get insurance wise, but nice homes here are going for more than two hundred and thirty dollars a square foot.”
“When are you talking to the insurance people?” Grace asked.
“Monday.”
“That’s good, and I hear you and Sloane’s brother are sharing Tawny’s old house.” Grace let out a catcall whistle. “Now if I were thirty years younger . . . Watch out, Mr. Miller. That man is all brawn. I met him over at the inn; he stopped by to drop something off for Brady.”
“It’s strictly a roommate situation,” Dana wanted her to know. It wouldn’t do to have people gossiping about her.
“Well, maybe you could fix that, if you know what I mean.” Grace arched her brows.
Dana never would’ve guessed that sweet, gray-haired Grace Miller, who ran the feedstore with her husband, was an oversexed cougar. She really needed to get to know the women of Nugget better.
“We’re strictly platonic.”
Grace made a face like what a shame, then launched into an entirely different topic. “Anything going on with the Rosser place?” Next to McCreedy Ranch, it was one of the largest cattle spreads in the county. The owner, Ray Rosser, had been charged with murder for shooting a man he claimed had stolen his cattle and needed to sell the ranch to pay his legal expenses. People here hadn’t stopped talking about it.