by Jaci Burton
"Makes sense," Brady said. "I'd be happy to give you a ride."
"Great. Let me say good-bye to everyone."
The last thing she wanted was to spend any more time with Reid than necessary. She found Des and Logan and thanked them for a wonderful evening, then, deciding to be polite, told Reid she was grabbing a ride with Brady and Megan.
He looked confused. "I had planned to take you home."
"No reason for you to have to make the trip. I have a ride. Besides, there are some great women's shows on TV that I'm dying to get home and watch."
He frowned. "Sam--"
"Thanks for the invite, Reid. I'll talk to you later."
Or, quite possibly, never. She turned on her heel and headed out the door with Megan and Brady.
The ride home was filled mostly with dinner talk, though as for talk, it was her and Megan doing all the talking. Brady was generally quiet except for one-word answers like "yup" and "great." She gave him directions to her house, and he dropped her off first.
"I'll call you tomorrow," Megan said.
"Okay, great. Thanks for the ride, Brady."
"Anytime."
She went inside and tossed her purse and sweater on the table, then kicked off her shoes and slid onto the sofa.
She was tired. She should get undressed and go to bed.
But just because she felt a wee bit catty at the moment, she grabbed the remote, surfed to a particular channel, and found the perfect movie. She pulled her feet underneath her and settled in to watch the romance unfold.
Reid McCormack could suck it.
Chapter 12
"ELECTRICAL'S SHOT," DEACON said as he and Reid stood side by side in the main room downstairs. "Just about what we figured in a building this old. HVAC will need to be completely replaced, too. We haven't dug into the plumbing yet, but my guess from what my guys have been able to dig up so far is that your plumbing is shit--no pun intended."
Reid took a long swallow of his coffee, sucked in some much-needed oxygen, and glared at Deacon. "Do you have any good news for me?"
"The tin ceiling will be able to stay. We took a few of the tiles down, and there's no rot in the floor beams on the second floor, so you're good to go with keeping that ceiling intact. We'll get her polished up and looking like new."
"I'll look forward to helping with that." He had a major hard-on for that tin ceiling. Replicas were one thing. An original? That was something else.
"Now that we've pulled the drywall out on the north side of the building, we found original brick wall."
"I saw that," Reid said with a grin. "My intent is to clean up that brick and leave that wall exposed. It'll add some historical character to the building and spaces."
"Then you're going to be one happy sonofabitch, because the walls are like that on all three stories."
"That is good news."
One piece, at least. He knew with a hundred-plus-year-old building that there would be a lot that needed to be replaced. But getting hit with that news all at once was like a gut punch. Good thing he'd already warned his brothers that there would need to be a lot of upgrades, so at least they were financially prepared for the hit.
Now that demo had been completed, it was easier to see the bones of the building. With the walls torn out and that hideous dropped ceiling gone, the bottom floor seemed much more expansive. The brick wall was beautiful. Now Reid could envision what would be, which was the potential for retail space. And there was plenty of room down here now.
"Ready to take a walk upstairs?" Deacon asked.
"Yeah."
While Deacon was all about structure, Reid was all about design. As they made their way upstairs, Reid ran his hands over the carved wood banister, itching to get it polished and gleaming, as it once was. Some of the wood planks on the staircase would have to be replaced, but they could refinish most of it. Now that they'd cleaned it off, it wasn't as bad as he'd thought when he'd given it the initial once-over.
He wanted to retain as much of the original surfaces as possible, while still keeping safety in mind.
The second floor had been gutted down to the studs as well, and now showcased tall windows, exposed brick walls, and tons of potential. Third floor was much the same. Reid could already envision office space up here, his imagination awash in visions of where he'd put a desk, where morning sun would shine in through those amazing windows, where--
"Come take a look at the plumbing issues we have up here."
Eh. Reality reared its ugly head, destroying his fantasies about ideal office space. Not that it would be his office space, anyway. But he'd sure as hell look forward to designing one kick-ass office for . . . somebody.
He and Deacon went over the plumbing on the second and third floors. Deacon was right--it was a mess and would have to be totally redone. He added that expense to his notebook as they walked the floors, at the same time letting his mind wander.
He had a plan drawn up--a solid one for space on the second and third floors. He knew where every bathroom would go, the square footage of every office.
He couldn't wait to see it all unfold. But right now? Plumbing, electrical, and HVAC.
"I've got elevator people coming in Thursday," Deacon said. "I walked in there and it's pretty cool-looking, but I haven't dared try to ride up in it."
Reid nodded. "That thing looks like a death trap."
"Yeah, no telling if it's salvageable or if you'll need an entirely new elevator."
He was hoping for the former. That elevator was a piece of history, with its cage door and manual lever. "My guess is it's probably going to have to be replaced to meet code and ADA requirements. Which is too bad."
"I don't know," Deacon said. "We might be able to do the upgrades and still maintain some of the original features."
Reid shrugged. "We have tenant and visitor safety to think about first. We'll see what the mechanics think after they review it."
"Okay. I'll make a note to have a discussion about it in our meeting on Friday."
Deacon typed that into his netbook.
"Let's meet with the HVAC and plumbing people tomorrow," Reid said as they made their way downstairs. "I want to make sure we have the plans all laid out, that the timeline is set, and materials are ordered to spec. If anything needs to be realigned on this project due to materials replacement, I want to adjust it now on the front end."
Deacon nodded. "I'll get everyone in my office that needs to be there. Eight o'clock all right with you?"
"That works."
"Great."
He left Deacon to his work and stepped outside. The dog looked up at him from his spot on the porch.
"I suppose you want a walk now," he said to the dog, who stood, shook his body from head to tail, then wagged said tail back and forth.
"Fine. But like I keep telling you, you have a mega-thousand-acre ranch you could have the run of if you'd just stay there instead of following me around."
The dog cocked his head to the side and smiled, his long pink tongue sticking out the side of his mouth.
"Whatever, dude. Let's go."
He grabbed the dog's leash and headed toward the park.
"Nice dog, Reid."
Reid nodded at Bobby Jameson, owner of the barber shop.
"Thanks. It's not my dog."
"That's what I keep hearing." Bobby bent and scratched the dog's ears. "How you doin' today, fella?"
The dog totally ate up all the attention, especially when Megan came out of the bakery and stopped to pet the dog, too.
"Hey, Reid. How's Not My Dog doing today?"
Reid frowned. "Huh?"
Megan looked up at him. "Your dog. Not My Dog."
"That's not his name."
"Really. Then what is it?"
"Uh . . ."
"Everyone's taken to calling him Not My Dog, since that's what you keep telling everyone," Bobby said, straightening as a customer headed into his shop. "Good to see you, Reid." He looked down at the dog.
"Not My Dog."
Bobby headed inside, leaving him with Megan, who gave him a smirk.
"See? It's a great name, by the way. I need to run. Talk to you later, Reid." She bent down to rub the dog's ears. "You, too, Not My Dog."
Reid watched Megan walk away, then looked down at the dog.
"Not My Dog?"
The dog's ears perked up, and his tail swished back and forth.
"Oh, for God's sake. Really?"
Not My Dog moved toward him, planting a front paw on Reid's foot.
"So you like that name."
The dog wriggled back and forth as if to say, Totally digging the name. Even if you weren't the one smart enough to come up with it.
"Whatever, Not My Dog. Let's head to the park."
SAMANTHA DIDN'T MEAN to walk out of the floral shop just at the moment Reid and Not My Dog were making their way toward the park. She had an armload of deliveries, so ducking back inside wasn't an option. She was just going to have to suck it up and ignore him. Or worse, be pleasant.
Maybe she'd get lucky and he wouldn't notice her.
She went outside and opened the doors of the delivery van, trying to keep her head down and focus on getting the flowers inside the van.
She heard footsteps, mentally cursing her lousy timing when Reid came around the side of the van.
"Hey, Sam. I thought I saw you come outside."
She looked up and forced a smile. "Oh, hi, Reid. I was just about to leave. I have some deliveries to make." She looked down at the dog, unable to resist cradling his cute face between her hands. "Hey, Not My Dog."
"Does everyone know about the dog's name?"
She lifted her gaze to Reid's, her stomach tumbling at the way his sexy eyes were trained so seriously on hers. "Of course. Word travels fast around here. It's a great name, by the way."
"I didn't name him."
She shrugged. "You kind of did, actually."
"Okay, maybe I did, but not intentionally. He's not my dog."
She was not in the mood for his attitude. "He kind of is, actually. He follows you to work every day, doesn't he?"
"Well, yeah, but that's not my fault. He's not my dog."
She held out both hands toward the dog, and then to him. "And thus his new name is born. You should get used to the idea that he's yours. Because like it or not, he's claimed you."
Reid sighed. Sam knew she was irritated for no rational reason whatsoever, which meant retreat was probably a really good idea right now.
"I need to go, Reid. I'll see you later, okay?"
"Oh, sure. Later, Sam."
She walked around to the driver's side of the van and climbed in. Suddenly, Reid was right there, looking up at her through the driver's side window. She rolled the window down. "Yes?"
"Are you mad at me for some reason?"
"No. Yes. I don't know, maybe. I don't have time to get into it."
"Would you have time later?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
He gave her a half smile. "Okay. Can we talk about it then?"
She shouldn't do this, but she already knew she was going to, because she hated leaving things unfinished. "Come by the house after work."
"Okay." He looked down at his feet. "I'll have the dog."
"Not My Dog is always invited to my house."
"I get the idea you mean that I'm not always invited."
"We can discuss that part later as well. I really have to go."
"Sure. Bye, Sam." He took a step back, allowing her to roll up her window and drive away. He stood there watching while she turned the corner.
She was even more confused. She was still angry with him, but she had no idea why. And he was so damned attractive she had all these conflicting emotions swirling around her insides.
And now he was coming over to her house later.
Great. She made a mental note to stop at the grocery store and pick up some items to cook.
No. Screw that. She was mad, and she wasn't cooking.
They'd order pizza.
Chapter 13
ADMITTEDLY, REID WAS nervous about stopping by Sam's place that night. He had no idea what he'd done to piss her off. Sam had always been laid-back and friendly, but ever since that night at the ranch, she'd avoided him.
He needed to know why. He didn't know why it was important to know, but for some reason, it was.
Not My Dog jumped out of the truck and followed him to Sam's front door, then sat by his side while he rang the bell. He looked down at the dog.
"Best behavior, okay?"
The dog gave him a cocked-head look: Dude, I'm not the one in trouble here.
"Yeah, you're right about that."
The door opened and Sam stood there, her beautiful blond hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She wore capri pants, a gray, long-sleeved shirt, and pink tennis shoes. Damn, she looked pretty. So distractingly pretty, he wanted to pull her against him and kiss her and pretend there was no tension between them.
That wasn't likely to happen, so he settled on a smile.
"Hi, Sam."
"Hey. Come on in."
"Thanks." Not My Dog followed right behind him, and when Sam told Reid to take a seat, the dog followed, made a couple of circles, then lay down next to the sofa and rested his face on his paws.
Sam took a spot on the floor next to the dog, obviously stating her preference for companions. She rubbed the dog's ears and looked up at Reid. "How was your day?"
"There are some issues we have to deal with, but nothing unexpected."
"Nothing that'll affect your timeline, I hope?"
"No. Demo has been completed. Now it's all internal work, like plumbing, electrical, and the like."
"Good to know."
"You could come by and I could show you what we've done so far."
"We'll see."
Yeah, she was definitely upset with him, because last week she wanted nothing more than to see the inside of the mercantile. Now she seemed disinterested.
"Okay, what did I do to make you mad?"
"It's not so much mad as it is disappointed. At the dinner party you made fun of my gender."
His brows shot up. "I did? When did I do that?"
"You were talking about your mother. I made a comment about the pain you must be in. You laughed and said I must have learned that from some women's channel, where all problems are tied up in ninety-minute movies."
"Oh. Shit." He remembered that conversation, and he'd obviously hurt her. "That was an off-the-cuff remark and was insensitive as hell of me. I'm really sorry, Sam. I don't know why I said that."
"Maybe because you believe it?"
"No. That's not it at all. I tend to get defensive when the topic of my mother comes up. As you can probably imagine, it's a pretty sensitive subject for all of us McCormacks. But that doesn't excuse my bad behavior or the things I said to you. Please forgive me for being a complete asshole that night."
She cocked her head to the side. "I was prepared to stay mad at you, but as apologies go, that was a pretty good one."
He felt a flood of relief. "So I'm forgiven?"
"Mostly. As your punishment, we're having pizza for dinner and then we're watching one of those movies on the so-called women's channel."
He laughed. "I guess I deserve that."
She grabbed her phone from the coffee table. "What kind of pizza would you like?"
"Since this is my night of contrition, I'll let you choose."
"Are you sure about that? What if I like eggplant on my pizza?"
He wrinkled his nose. "Do they even offer eggplant as a topping?"
"I have no idea. Would you eat it if they did?"
"I eat pretty much anything. Go for it."
She scrolled through her contacts list and pressed the button, then waited. "Marjorie? Hey, it's Sam Reasor. I'd like a large hamburger and pepperoni with extra cheese, delivered."
His kind of woman.
When she hung up, she looked up at him.
>
"What? No eggplant?" he asked.
"Funny. And no eggplant."
"Good."
After patting Not My Dog again, she stood. "Would you like something to drink? I have beer, wine, soda, and water."
After that tense conversation, he needed to unwind. "I'd definitely go for a beer."
"Okay."
She went into the kitchen, and he glanced down at the dog, who looked perfectly content to be asleep on the floor. Normally the ranch dogs lived and slept outside, so this was a treat for him.
"Yeah, you're living the life right now, aren't you, bud?"
The dog responded with a loud snore.
"Here you go." She handed him the can of beer and set down the glass of wine she'd made for herself on the table. She kicked off her tennis shoes and curled her feet up under her on the sofa.
"So, about my mom," he started.
She put up her hand. "You don't need to offer me any explanation about your mother. It's none of my business, and now it's my turn to apologize for trying to interfere in your personal life."
He got up and went to sit next to her on the sofa, then set his beer down on a coaster on the coffee table. "You weren't interfering. You were telling me you cared by offering emotional advice. And I was a complete jackass about it. Did I mention I was sorry?"
She looked at him with those beautiful, honest blue eyes--eyes he could so easily get lost in.
"Yes. Apology accepted. I know how hard it is to talk about emotional things. Especially for men. You tend to hold it all inside."
He opened his mouth, about to deny her statement, then surprised himself by saying, "You're probably right. It hurt when she left. I'll admit that. But I was being honest when I said it's not something I lose sleep over. Martha's been a fantastic mother to all of us. She always has been. So I'm not bearing any deep emotional scars. Honest."
She cocked her head to the side and studied him. "You know what? I believe that. If anyone could seriously mother a bunch of unruly boys, and give them all the love they could ever want or need, it's Martha."
He laughed. "You're right about that. I don't feel I missed out on anything."
"Good. I'm really happy about that."
He was glad they'd gotten that straightened out. "Now tell me how your day went. You looked busy when I came by earlier."
"Oh," she said. "Yes. Today was a big day for birthdays and anniversaries. I delivered a lot of flowers to several very happy people."
"Which must give you a lot of joy."