“Okay, so you’re just following up on a call,” she finally conceded. “You’ve done your duty. Leave your estimate. I’ll get another one. You’ll lose.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. What he’d said was true—this was a nothing little job for him, but he intended to do it. In fact, he was going to stick to Jo like glue till he found out why she’d looked like death warmed over when he’d turned up. “Whoever called was right. The porch is a disaster. Better to rip it off and start from scratch before someone gets hurt.”
“Fine, but I’m sure someone else can do it cheaper,” she said flatly. “Heck, I could probably do the work myself if I put my mind to it.”
He grinned at that. “Really? You think so?”
“How hard could it be to nail a few boards together?” she said brashly. “And I wouldn’t be charging Ashley some exorbitant price for labor.”
“You haven’t seen my estimate yet,” he reminded her, not even trying to hide his amusement at her obvious ploy to get rid of him. “You just don’t want me hanging around.”
She met his gaze, then looked away, the color in her cheeks deepening. “No,” she said softly, then immediately apologized. “Sorry.”
“No offense taken,” he said easily. “I could have someone else come by, but whoever called asked specifically for me. When loyal customers do that, I do the work. It’s a point of honor.”
She frowned at him. “As if,” she said bitterly.
Her comment was like a slap. It stung. “I suppose I deserved that,” he admitted.
“And more,” she retorted. “Look, Pete, you can forget that whole trumped-up honor thing. I’ll deal with my sisters. Besides, I thought you were building all these huge homes around here. Why would you want to waste time fixing up a porch?”
“Keeps me humble,” he said lightly, though what he wanted to say was that it would give him a chance to be around her again, to maybe make amends for what he’d done to her seven years ago. Now that he’d actually seen Jo again, he knew that all those feelings he’d tamped down so that he could stay married to Kelsey were as strong as ever.
“It’s a bad idea,” she said, half to herself.
“Why?” he asked, though he knew perfectly well precisely why she would see it that way. Seeing her had shot his defenses to hell, too.
She skewered him with a disbelieving look.
“Okay, scratch that. You’re still furious with me. Can’t say I blame you. What I did to you was inexcusable.”
“You’re wrong,” she said fiercely. “I don’t feel anything at all where you’re concerned. Seven years is a long time, Pete. What we had is so over.”
It was a blatant lie. Pete could see that in her stormy eyes, which was why he decided there was no way in hell he was backing off on doing this job, no matter how hard she fought him.
“Then having me underfoot won’t bother you at all,” he said pleasantly.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked plaintively.
He ignored the question. He figured she already knew the answer. She just wasn’t ready to acknowledge it yet.
“I’ll be by around eight,” he said decisively. “Hope you weren’t planning to sleep late. I’m going to be noisy, and I could use a cup of coffee when I get here. Mine’s lousy, but I seem to recall you brewed the strong stuff.”
He decided he’d done what he could for tonight, declared his intentions as plainly as he could, gotten her blood to pumping in the only way he knew how short of kissing her. He got to his feet.
“’Night, darlin’. Good to see you.” He dropped a kiss on her already overheated cheek and tried not to notice that she was sputtering with indignation as he left.
In fact, as he crossed the lawn, she uttered a few words he’d never even realized she knew. They weren’t complimentary.
Even with those words echoing in his head as he climbed into his car, he caught himself whistling happily. Whatever was going on with Jo that had brought her scurrying to the safe haven of Rose Cottage, he intended to see that he was there to help her through it. Last time she’d been hurt, he’d been the cause. This time, he would be the solution.
And when all was said and done, when fences were finally mended, who knew what might happen next?
Chapter Two
Of all the arrogant, annoying, impossible men on the face of the planet, how had Ashley somehow managed to come up with the one guaranteed to drive Jo insane? For a normally calm, placid individual, she’d used more curse words at top volume in the ten minutes following Pete’s visit than she had in her entire lifetime. He’d apparently heard a few of them cross her lips, too, and they’d only made him laugh. The sound had reached her and, if anything, had only made her more furious. The man was absolutely insufferable. She definitely hadn’t recalled that about him. It might have made things easier for her.
How dare he barge into Rose Cottage as if he had every right to be there? How dare he take over as if she were some basket case he didn’t dare leave alone? Okay, so maybe she had looked a little pitiful when he’d first arrived, but that definitely wouldn’t happen again. In the morning, she’d be ready for him. Too bad her grandmother had never kept a shotgun on the premises. Maybe waving one of those in his direction would convince him to leave her the hell alone.
She sighed as her flash of temper died. If that was what she really wanted.
The truth was her stupid heart had raced when she’d first glimpsed Pete on the porch. She could deny it till the cows came home, but on some level she’d been glad to see him. In fact, she’d shut the front door so securely to keep him from seeing any telltale reaction on her face. Or maybe just to prevent herself from flying straight into his powerful arms. On some primal level, that was exactly what she’d wanted to do. How idiotic was that? One glimpse of the man, and in five seconds her self-control and her good sense had been wrecked.
And that was before he’d ignored all her protests and barged in. After that, she hadn’t had to fake her indignation. It took a lot of nerve for a man who’d all but destroyed her to walk inside her home and act as if nothing had happened, as if he belonged there. If he thought that half-assed acknowledgment that he’d mistreated her seven years ago was an acceptable apology, he was seriously mistaken. It was going to take more than a few pitiful words to win her forgiveness. She was going to make him work for it.
Now, unfortunately, it seemed that he was going to have plenty of time to come up with all the pretty words she needed to hear. He was going to be underfoot for who knew how long, and there wasn’t a blessed thing she could do about it except stay as far away from Rose Cottage during the day as she possibly could.
As he’d probably guessed, firing him was not an option. It would only stir up more questions than she was prepared to answer. And perverse as he was, he’d probably see it as an admission that she was still attracted to him.
Which she was, dammit!
Her plan of action, such as it was, decided, Jo went to bed and tried to forget about how good Pete had looked in his snug, faded jeans and dark green sweater. Seven years had only made him more handsome. His face looked stronger and sexier with a day’s stubble of beard shadowing his cheeks, and there was even more mischief in his dark eyes. Hell, the man radiated sex from every pore, which was something she had no business thinking about a married man, especially not a married man who’d broken her heart.
Come to think of it, for a married man he’d been awfully carefree about hanging out with her for a couple of hours when he should have been home with his wife and son. Obviously, his morals hadn’t improved since the days when he’d slept with another woman shortly after professing his undying love for her. That alone should be warning enough for her to give him a very wide berth.
Because of that, she set the alarm for six. She’d be showered, dressed and on her way somewhere by seven, long before Pete showed up in the morning. It was one thing to agree to let him do the job Ashley had hired him to do. It was another thi
ng entirely to stick around and watch and be tormented—and tempted—in the process.
Pete knew exactly how Jo’s mind worked, which was one reason he was pulling up in front of Rose Cottage shortly after six-thirty in the morning. The fact that every light in the house was blazing told him he’d been right to guess that she would be preparing to be long gone before he turned up.
He sat in his truck with the heater pumped up on high and waited. Sure enough, at seven o’clock the lights began to switch off. Immediately after the last one went out, the front door opened. She was so busy concentrating on getting her key into the lock, she apparently didn’t even notice when he cut the truck’s engine, swung down from the front seat and stepped into her path. She turned around and ran smack into him. He steadied her and looked straight into eyes blazing with anger and dismay.
“Going somewhere?” he inquired, regarding her with amusement. “I don’t recall you being such an early bird.”
She frowned at him. “Why are you here?” she asked, guilt written all over her face.
“I told you I’d be here first thing this morning.”
“You said eight o’clock.”
“I did,” he agreed. “And then I got to thinking.”
Her gaze narrowed. “About what?”
“How likely it was that you’d bolt before I got here, if you had the chance.”
“Maybe I was just going out to grab breakfast,” she said defensively. “Maybe I’d planned to be back by eight.”
“Did you?”
She avoided his gaze, apparently unwilling to utter a blatant lie. “Why does it even matter where I was going? You don’t need me here. I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of handling this very difficult job all by yourself.”
“True, but I was counting on that coffee,” he said cheerfully.
“I didn’t make any coffee.”
“Not a problem,” he said, circling an arm around her shoulders and turning her in the direction of his truck. “Since I got such an early start, there’s plenty of time for us to go into town and have breakfast together. I’ll even treat.”
“I am not going into town with you,” she said, sounding horrified by the suggestion.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not. It’s a terrible idea. What on earth is wrong with you?”
Pete couldn’t imagine why she found the idea so abhorrent. He concluded, though, that asking wasn’t likely to get him a straight answer. “Then I’d say we’re at an impasse,” he said with a shrug. “Everyone knows it’s vitally important to have coffee for the men on a job site. It’s like an unwritten rule.”
Her scowl deepened, but she whirled around and headed for the house. “Fine. I’ll make your damn coffee, but then I’m leaving.”
He beamed at her. “Works for me,” he said.
Inside, though, he opened the refrigerator and took out eggs, bacon and butter. “Might as well have breakfast while we’re at it.”
Her color was definitely better this morning, but she still had that sad, haunted look in her eyes, and she was too damned thin. Whatever was bothering her had evidently ruined her appetite. He was no gourmet chef, as he’d heard her sister Maggie was, but he could handle breakfast.
“What makes you think I wasn’t planning on meeting my sisters for breakfast in town?” she inquired testily.
“For one thing, you didn’t mention it,” he said reasonably. He leveled a look straight into her eyes. “Were you?”
Her gaze wavered before she finally sighed. “No.”
“Then have a seat. I’ll whip something up in no time. We can catch up.”
“Pete, I don’t want to catch up with you,” she said with evident frustration. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you.”
He shook his head. “Is that anything to say to an old friend?”
“You are not my friend.”
He met her gaze. “I was. I could be again.”
“I don’t think so.” Her anxious gaze settled on the coffeemaker as if she could will it to brew the coffee faster. “As soon as this is ready, I’m out of here. In fact, since it pretty much does the work all on its own, I’ll go now. Help yourself when it’s ready. Enjoy your breakfast.”
When she reached for her coat, Pete put his hand on hers. She jerked away.
“Stop it,” she ordered fiercely. “I don’t want you touching me.”
He winced at the evidence of her aversion. Okay, so he understood it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t cut right through him.
“Jo, come on,” he pleaded. “We obviously need to talk. We need to settle a few things.”
She glowered at him. “We needed to talk seven years ago, but I didn’t see you beating down the door to do it.”
Another direct hit, he thought wearily. She was getting good at it. “I was twenty years old and stupid. I should have talked to you, but you’d already left town.”
“And what? The phones didn’t work?”
“I was embarrassed and ashamed.”
She gave him a disbelieving look.
“Okay, I was a coward,” he admitted. “I came by and talked to your grandmother. That was hard enough. I didn’t have the guts to face you. I figured she’d tell you everything. I convinced myself it would be easier for you to hear it from her.”
“Of course you did,” Jo accused bitterly. “And believe me, it was so much easier having my grandmother be the one to share the news that was going to break my heart,” she added in a voice rich with sarcasm. “She tried hard to be nonchalant. So did I, but we were both lousy at it.”
Pete winced at the image she’d painted. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was a rotten thing to do to you and to her.”
“Yes, it was,” she said, not giving an inch. “Now if we’ve rehashed the past sufficiently, do you mind if I take off?”
He made one last try to keep her there. “Sure you don’t want to stay? I make a terrific omelet.”
“So do a lot of people. It’s not that hard.” She gave him a withering look. “I trust I won’t find you here when I get back.”
His own appetite ruined, Pete put the food back in the refrigerator, then turned to face her. “I suppose that depends on how long you intend to hide out.”
“As long as it takes.”
She would do it, too. Pete could see in her eyes that she would find some way to avoid him until the job was done. Maybe he should let her, but he couldn’t imagine himself giving up so easily. If she wanted him to pay penance for what he’d done to her, that was only fair. If she wanted to rail at him, curse him, keep him at arm’s length, that was okay, too. He deserved whatever she wanted to dish out.
But he would keep coming back, not because he was stubborn. Not because he wanted to be a thorn in her side. He’d keep coming back because the moment he’d laid eyes on her again, he’d known he had no choice.
He was still in love with her, or at least with the sweet, vulnerable girl she’d once been. It remained to be seen if the woman was as captivating. Based on the way his hormones were raging, he was pretty sure she was.
Jo knew she wasn’t thinking straight when she drove straight out to Maggie’s farm, her temper still boiling. What was it going to take to make Pete see that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him? She didn’t want him as a friend. She certainly didn’t want him as anything more. What did it say about him—or her—that he even thought she might? The man was married, for goodness sake, though he apparently didn’t seem to care much about that little detail.
If she’d spent one more second with him at Rose Cottage, she might have slapped him silly for his presumption.
Or she might have kissed him. That had been a definite possibility, too. She was willing to admit that. She was such an idiot! Maybe she’d sunk so low that her morals were no better than his.
Before getting on the road, she’d spent a long time in the driveway thinking about that, shocked that she would even consider such a thing for
a single second.
When he’d walked out of the house while she was still sitting there, her gaze had fallen on him with seven years of pent-up longing. She knew he was aware of her, knew he was counting on her staring when he hefted that heavy ax over his head and started his demolition of the porch.
Her hand was shaking so bad, she almost hadn’t been able to turn the key in the ignition. She’d actually stalled out twice before she finally got away from Rose Cottage and Pete’s barely muffled laughter. He hadn’t even tried to hide his gloating.
All the way to Maggie’s she kept telling herself to calm down. If her sister saw her like this, she would know something was up. It didn’t take a genius to see that Pete had rattled her. Since she was never, ever rattled, it was going to be a dead giveaway.
When she pulled up outside of Maggie’s, she spotted Ashley’s and Melanie’s cars. She cursed another blue streak at the sight and almost turned right around and headed back to town, but with all this adrenaline pumping, she was hungry. She cut the engine, drew in a deep calming breath and went inside.
She’d barely stepped into Maggie’s gourmet, professional kitchen before her temper stirred again. All three women were seated at the table, the last crumbs of a pecan coffee cake on their plates, mugs filled with fragrant coffee. They looked so blasted innocent, but one of them was a traitor, albeit an unwitting one. Her money was definitely on Ashley. Jo figured she’d ask anyway, just in case she and Pete both had gotten it all wrong.
“Okay, which one of you did it?” she asked before she’d even removed her coat.
“Did what?” Maggie asked, then went right on as if the question and the answer were of no consequence. “There’s more coffee cake if you want it. It’s in the oven to keep it warm. And I just brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Help yourself. If we’d known you were coming, we’d have waited.”
Jo tried to tamp down her irritation and act just as cool. She took off her coat, tossed it over a chair, retrieved the coffee cake, then poured herself some coffee before sitting down at the table. She cut herself a huge slice of the coffee cake as she inquired, “Who called Pete Catlett and sent him to my doorstep last night?”
For the Love of Pete Page 3