by Jaci Burton
"I can understand you wanting to keep an eye on her."
"You have no idea. It's like trying to raise a teenager. She keeps disappearing on me and refuses to get a cell phone, so I'm constantly having to call your brother Luke or someone else at the Hope PD to locate her."
He laughed. "I'll bet that's . . . interesting."
She turned and reached for her glass of wine. "It can be downright embarrassing. One Friday night I called to check on her at nine. I typically call her in the evenings to make sure she's okay before she goes to bed. I got no answer, so I grabbed my set of keys to her house and went over there. She wasn't home. At nine o'clock, for heaven's sake."
"And of course she has no cell phone, so you couldn't call her to find out where she was."
Samantha nodded. "Right? I got in my car and started driving around, and I couldn't freakin' find her. I checked the bingo hall, because she likes to go play bingo on Friday nights, but she wasn't there. I checked the church to see if they were having movie night, which they sometimes do at the high school gym, but no one was there, either. I called a couple of her friends, who hadn't heard from her.
"By then I had started to panic. It was the dead of winter, we'd had a recent snowfall, and my thoughts strayed to her having wrecked her car or off in a ditch somewhere, freezing to death. So I called the police department. Luke was pulling a late shift, covering for a friend. He and I met up and I told him what was going on with Grammy Claire.
"Luke ended up driving around for two hours and found out from making some calls that she was having a late-night movie marathon at Esther Mansfield's house. Esther's a widow Grammy Claire met at church, so I don't know her all that well. Esther also doesn't drive, so she let Grammy Claire park her car in her garage because of the weather, which is why Luke didn't see her car when he and nearly every cop in the damn town did a sweep looking for her."
"Ouch."
"Yes. I was furious with her for not telling me where she was going. Her response? 'I'm a grown woman, Samantha. I don't believe I need to tell you my whereabouts every second of the day.' "
Reid tilted his head back and laughed, hard.
Samantha stared at him. "Not funny, Reid."
He grinned at her. "Yeah, it is. I'll bet Luke thought it was funny, too."
"First he was relieved. Then, yes, he thought it was funny. I was not amused. And after much lecturing and back-and-forth arguing, I convinced my grandmother that she needs to let me know when she's going out and where she's going."
"It really is like having a teenager, isn't it?"
She sighed and took a long swallow of wine, reliving that night of panic all over again. "I may never have children. And it's all Grammy Claire's fault."
"Oh, come on. Surely kids couldn't be as bad as all that."
"Ha. They're probably worse. Now tell me about your day."
"Nothing special about it. My brothers and I met with the contractor--Deacon Fox. Do you know him?"
"Of course. He's going to work on the project with you?"
"Yeah."
"Awesome. When does demo start?"
"Deacon and I will meet with the engineer tomorrow to finalize the plans, so demo will likely start the day after. Why? Thinking of getting your hands dirty?"
Her lips curved. "I'd love to. Living here in an older home that, as you can tell, could use some serious renovating, gives me all kinds of ideas."
Reid took a glance around the room. "Yeah? What kinds of ideas?"
"I'd love to tear out that wall separating the kitchen from the living room. The dining room is useless because I don't use it. If I opened all that up, I could have a bigger kitchen and living room. Think of the space I could use for entertaining. The cabinetry in the kitchen is fine, but it's outdated and there's no pantry. I really need a pantry, along with updated appliances. I'd also kill for a double oven and a microwave that doesn't sit on the counter, because that eats up my already limited counter space. Plus I love these hardwood floors, but they need resurfacing. Not to mention the HVAC system. I need a new heater and a new air conditioner. It's freezing in the winter and boiling hot in the summer."
It finally dawned on her that he was staring at her.
"I'm boring you."
"Actually, you're not. I'm mentally creating a design for revised space while you're talking."
"No way."
His lips curved. "Yes way."
"Really? That's amazing. I'll be right back."
She dashed into the kitchen, opened a drawer and pulled out a notebook and a pencil, then hurried back into the living room. "Will this help?"
"Sure."
He started sketching, and she took a seat next to him. It was fascinating to watch him draw, to see his imagination take fruit in lines and visuals of a cabinet here, an island there. Suddenly there were no walls, and he'd created new space with furniture and fixtures, and as he asked questions and she answered them, her dreams for this house were drawn on paper in brilliant life.
"It's a crude rendition, but I think you get the idea."
She blinked several times, unable to believe what she saw there. "It's perfect. It's exactly how I envision it. How do you do that?"
He laughed. "It's my job. Besides, this isn't my best work. I could draw it out for you in more official form if you're interested."
"I'd love it, but I can't really afford a renovation right now. Still, I appreciate you helping me to visualize what's been in my head for a while. This makes it seem more real, like it could actually happen someday."
"Oh, it could definitely happen. You have the space here. It just needs to be shifted in a few areas."
"Yeah. Shifted." And now that she'd seen what was possible, she wanted it even more.
Someday.
"Come on into the kitchen with me. I'll make the salad and spaghetti and we'll eat. You're probably starving."
"I am hungry."
He followed her into the kitchen. She made the salad and the spaghetti and took the bread out of the oven. Reid carved the bread while she mixed the meat sauce with the noodles, then Reid helped her carry everything into the dining room.
"This would be so much more informal if I had an eating area in the kitchen," she said as they dug in to the spaghetti.
"Or, with just two people, on your new island."
She waved her fork at him. "Don't tease me like that, Reid McCormack."
He laughed. "Sorry. But what you want is doable, Samantha."
"Not right now, it isn't. My budget is stretched pretty tight. And call me Sam."
"Okay, Sam. And I understand. Something to put on your back burner for someday."
"I've got a lot of those someday projects stored in my To-Do drawer."
He scooped up some pasta and slid it between his lips while she tried her best not to focus on his mouth. So instead she kept her head down and ate.
"You have a To-Do drawer?"
She lifted her gaze to his. "I do."
"Okay, now I'm interested. What's in there?"
"Secret projects and wishes for . . . someday."
"Don't I get even a hint?"
He'd likely laugh at some of the notes and scraps of paper and things in that drawer. She often wrote down wishes and put them in the drawer. Some were things she wanted to remember, others were items she jotted down just to put pen to paper, to remind herself of what was important to her on a certain date. She'd go through the drawer once a year and pull out the scraps of paper in there, checking to see if each item was still a priority. If it was, it stayed. If it wasn't, it got tossed. A lot of things remained in there for a long time.
"I want a dog . . . someday."
"You have a pretty great yard with a fence. Why can't you have one now?"
She shrugged. "Between work and Grammy Claire, that's enough to handle right now. I don't think it would be fair to leave a dog alone by itself all day long, then some nights as well."
"Oh, nights. Because of your active dating life
, you mean."
She actually snorted out a laugh at that one. "Uh, no. Because I'm often over at my grandmother's house."
He cocked a brow. "You should be out with men."
"Tell that to my runaway grandmother."
He laughed.
They finished eating, and Sam pushed her plate to the side while Reid poured her another glass of wine. She thought about getting up to clear the table, then decided she'd enjoy the wine before she tackled dishes.
"So you're telling me there's no steady man in your life?"
She swirled the wine around in her glass, wondering if he was making idle conversation or if he'd asked the question because he was interested in knowing the answer for personal reasons. "No steady or occasional or otherwise. I was serious about my plate being pretty full right now. Grammy Claire enjoys her independence, but she can't do everything for herself. I do her grocery shopping and I go over there once a week to clean her house. And I know she's lonely after Grandpa's death, so I try to hang out with her at least a couple of times a week. More than just a drop in to say hello and check on her. There isn't anyone else around, family-wise. It's just her and me now. She essentially raised me after my parents died, so she's all I have left."
"Which makes you want to spend as much time with her as you can," Reid said. "I know exactly how you feel. I wish I'd had more time with my dad."
"You miss him."
"Every day."
She couldn't imagine not having Grammy Claire in her life. As much of a pain in the butt as her grandma was sometimes, she was still her family. Her only family. She loved her dearly.
They took all of the dishes into the kitchen, and, since she didn't have a dishwasher--one of her biggest complaints about her kitchen--she loaded everything into the sink.
Reid rolled up his shirtsleeves and started running water into the sink.
"Oh no. Leave those. I'll take care of them later."
He arched a brow. "You cooked. I'll clean up."
"I don't think so. I invited you to dinner. Not to do the dishes."
She tried to nudge him aside, but she might as well have tried to move a boulder. He didn't budge. Instead, he already had the scrubber in his hand, ignoring her.
"Fine," she finally said, giving up on trying to shove him aside. "I'll put the food away."
They worked in tandem, and she couldn't recall the last time any man had ever helped her with the dishes.
It was probably . . .
No. Never.
Once she took care of the food and handed him the pots and pans to wash, she grabbed a dish towel to dry and put away the dishes. Having Reid around to help was awesome. She'd have spent a half hour or longer in here doing this by herself later tonight. Instead, they were finished in fifteen minutes.
Reid dried his hands. "See? That wasn't so painful, was it?"
She hung up the towel. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to. And thank you for dinner. The spaghetti was amazing. I love a home-cooked meal."
She laughed. "You get plenty of those at the ranch. Martha is an incredible cook."
"That she is. It's one of the things I'm going to enjoy the most while I'm here in Hope. I don't get a lot of home cooking in Boston."
They made their way back into the dining room and took a seat. Reid poured them both another glass of wine.
"Surely you cook."
"Not really. I work a lot of late nights, which means either microwaved meals, sandwiches, or takeout."
Sam wrinkled her nose. "Takeout is fine once in a while. I like to eat at interesting restaurants now and then, but I really enjoy cooking. Oh, and speaking of interesting restaurants, did you know that Bash Palmer is adding an eatery to his bar?"
Reid nodded. "He told me about that when I was in town for Des and Logan's wedding. I actually drew up some plans for him for . . ."
She waited for him to finish his sentence. He didn't. "You drew up plans for what?"
"I helped him refine his plans for the restaurant in the No Hope at All bar. I think it's going to be great."
Somehow she got that wasn't what he was initially going to say, that there was something else he'd drawn up plans for for Bash. But maybe it was a secret and she wasn't supposed to know about it.
She made a mental note to ask Bash's fiancee, Chelsea, about that later. "I agree. They've already started construction on it."
"I'll have to drop by and take a look at the progress. It's going to be an awesome addition to his bar."
"Agreed. And speaking of all things awesome, how about those blueprints for the mercantile?"
"Oh, right. That is why you invited me over here tonight, wasn't it?"
Not the only reason, but she definitely wanted to see his plans. "Definitely."
"They're in the truck. Let me go get them."
She sat back and finished her glass of wine.
This night had been . . . unexpected. Reid had been unexpected.
She liked him, a lot. He was open and fun to talk to. He'd sketched out a blueprint for a kitchen, dining room, and living room renovation for her without her even asking.
The man even did dishes.
Clearly there had to be something unlikable about him.
Maybe he had weird chest hair or something, though she'd never know that unless she got his shirt off.
She poured herself another glass of wine and pondered that thought with some serious imagery.
Chapter 4
REID GRABBED THE blueprints from his truck and came back inside to find Samantha--Sam--still sitting at the dining room table.
She was so pretty, in a very distracting kind of way. She had on tight jeans that molded to her curves and a long-sleeved shirt that pressed against her breasts, making him very aware it had been all too long since he'd held a woman.
Damn work had taken over all his time, including his free time, effectively putting an end to his dating life. After his breakup with Britt, he'd sworn off women for a while, and by the time he'd been ready to get back into dating again, work had consumed him.
He wasn't about to date anyone while he was in Hope. It would be a waste of time, since he had no intention of staying here. This project would last a couple of months at most, and then he'd be back in Boston again.
Plus, he knew almost everyone here, and the last thing he'd need is broken hearts and bitterness from people he'd like to think were his friends.
Still, here he was, spreading out blueprints on Samantha Reasor's dining room table while she got up and moved in next to him, her shoulder brushing against his.
She smelled good. Something musky and intoxicating, and he really shouldn't be thinking of her as a woman he'd like to touch or kiss or anything along those lines at all. What he should be thinking about was that she was very nice and she'd cooked him dinner and she wanted to see the project blueprints.
And that was all he intended to show her tonight. Or any night.
He spread the blueprints out on the table. "Okay, so I'm not sure you'll be able to see--"
"Oh, so this is the first floor. I see what you're doing here. If I recall correctly, there are currently walls here and here. You're removing those and opening up this area on the main floor, right? Adding columns here, putting in a bathroom there." She scanned the blueprints, flipping pages as she moved floors. "Interesting office space on these floors. You've allowed for expansive space. Some larger offices, some smaller."
She knew exactly what the layout was. He looked over at her. "Blueprints are confusing as hell even for an architect or contractor. I'm impressed."
She shrugged. "It's not that hard if you read between the lines. Or rather, where the lines aren't anymore, right?"
"That's correct."
"So what are your plans for the first floor?"
"First we'll take down the walls and the old ceiling. Remember the tin tile ceiling we got a peek at underneath the dropped one?"
"Yes. It's magnificent. I can't wait to
see it."
"Me, too. Once we have everything opened up, we'll take a look at the electrical and plumbing, as well as the heating and air-conditioning systems. I'm sure those will all need an overhaul. It'll be a step-by-step process from the ground up. Once we know what we're working with, we'll see what we can do with it. But I'd like the main floor to be completely open."
"And then there's upstairs."
"Yeah. A lot to do up there, especially plumbing-wise. Architecturally it's a gold mine." He explained the concept of the office spaces he'd planned for floors two and three, and how much space he'd carved out for those floors. "But first we have a lot of teardown to do. Floors will need to be replaced on the two upper floors. The elevator is a death trap, so that'll need extensive repair. We have to add in plumbing for the new bathrooms upstairs. Well, downstairs, too. Windows will have to be brought up to this century, so those will have to be replaced on all three floors."
She swirled wine around in her glass and patiently listened to him talk as he gave her a list of everything they were going to do.
He finally stopped and stared at her. "This isn't boring for you?"
"Are you kidding? I'm so impressed, and I have to tell you, more than a little excited. Also, I have to tell you that your eyes light up when you talk about the mercantile."
"Is that right?"
"Yes. You're like a kid in a candy shop, except the candy is all locked up in the case right now and the key is lost."
His lips curved. "Something like that."
He also realized it had been all about him most of the night. "Tell me about the flower shop, Sam."
"Oh. Well, that isn't nearly as interesting as what you do."
"I don't agree. You're a business owner. That must be fun for you."
"Actually, it is. Grammy Claire owned the shop, and when she retired, I took it over. It's been a family business for as long as I've been alive. My mom worked there, too, until she and dad died in the car accident."
"I'm sorry about your parents."
"Thank you. I don't really even remember them. I was three when it happened, and Grammy Claire and Grandpa Bob raised me."
"I'm glad you had them. It must have been so hard for you."
"I remember so little of it. I just remember my grandparents. I know that I've always felt like there was something missing in my life. Grammy Claire and Grandpa Bob were older, you know? But they did their best in raising me, in giving me everything they thought I needed. And Grammy Claire was the absolute best at being a mother to me, in giving me the guidance every mother should give a daughter. She may be my grandmother, but she's been the perfect mother."