She danced down the steps, her cheeks glowing. “That’s some tub you installed in the master suite,” she teased him.
“Big enough for two,” he confirmed.
“Lucky couple.”
He grinned. “Indeed. Ready to look around outside?”
“I’ll need to get my notepad from the truck so I can make a few sketches and jot down my ideas.”
Pete nodded. “I’ll meet you out by the oak tree in back. Wait till you see it in the spring and next fall. It’s spectacular.”
Some of the light in her eyes died. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said. “I’ll probably be back in Boston by then, but I’m glad you saved it. Too many builders just slash down everything in sight these days.”
“There was no way I’d cut this down. I kept imagining a swing hanging from its branches or a tree house built way up high. Besides, it adds to the feeling that this place is substantial. Even makes it feel as if it’s been around for a while.”
To his astonishment, she stood on tiptoe and planted an impulsive kiss on his cheek. “Nice to see you getting all sentimental about a tree.”
She was gone before he could react. He wandered around back and leaned against the massive trunk of the saved oak that had earned him an unexpected kiss. He nudged it with an elbow. “Thanks,” he murmured, then felt like an idiot.
Even with the sun shining brightly, the air off the water was frigid. Pete shivered as he waited for Jo to join him. When she didn’t appear after several minutes, he went looking for her. He found her by his truck, her pad resting on the hood as she made some sketches, her pencil flying over the page. He went up to peer over her shoulder.
There, in front of his eyes, was a climbing rosebush creeping up to the porch railing. A pond was taking shape off to one side, surrounded by some sort of flowering bushes. She blinked and looked up at him.
“Where’d you come from?”
“Around back, where I was waiting for you.”
“Sorry,” she said, but with little real repentance. “Inspiration struck and I wanted to get it down on paper. I’m thinking a wildflower garden over here with a birdbath. It will draw butterflies and birds, so people sitting on the porch will be able to watch them. What do you think?”
“People actually sit around and watch birds?”
She laughed. “We used to.”
He thought back and recalled how they’d been endlessly entertained by the turf wars over her grandmother’s birdbath and the hummingbird feeder. “I’d forgotten,” he admitted. “Where’s the hummingbird feeder going?”
“With the plants I have in mind, you won’t need one. They’ll be drawn to the flowers.”
“You know, if you’re going to go into this much detail all around the yard, we’d better come back another day. I don’t want you to freeze to death out here. How about grabbing some lunch while we warm up a bit, then taking a quick look at the other place?”
She waved off the question, her attention back on the page. She was sketching something else, some sort of arbor.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Wisteria. This place cries out for a white picket fence and an arbor. It’ll give it a nice, old-fashioned touch.”
“If you say so. Now, how about lunch?” he prodded again.
“Since I think my fingers are turning into blocks of ice, lunch sounds good.”
Pete impulsively clasped her hands in his and rubbed them, then kissed the tips of her fingers. She gave him a startled look, but then a slow smile crept across her face.
“Is this one of those perks that comes with the job?” she asked.
“I’ll even put it in the contract, if you want me to.”
She nodded slowly. “Just be sure you make it an exclusive.”
Pete chuckled. “Believe me, you’re the only person who works for me whose hands aren’t scarred up and calloused. This treatment is definitely reserved for you.”
As if the whole exchange had suddenly made her nervous, she withdrew her hands and tucked them in her pockets. She headed around to the passenger door of the truck, then shot one last grin over her shoulder. “I’ll want that in writing.”
Pete laughed. “Done, darlin’.”
She was playing with fire, Jo warned herself as she sipped the hot seafood chowder she’d ordered for lunch. Something daring had crept over her back at the job site and she hadn’t been able to help herself, but she could not keep tossing out innuendoes and letting Pete steal kisses. Not only was it unprofessional, it was dangerous. For hours now her blood had been humming through her veins the way it had that long-ago summer. She felt every bit as giddy and impulsive as the school girl she’d been back then, too.
And look what had happened, she reminded herself sternly.
She glanced across the table and realized Pete’s gaze was resting on her. “What?” she asked.
“You look as if you’re giving yourself a very stern lecture,” he teased.
“I am,” she admitted.
“About?”
“You.”
“Oh?”
“Just reminding myself that you’re a client.”
Something flickered in his eyes, something she couldn’t really interpret. Hurt, maybe.
“I thought we were more than that, Jo,” he said quietly. “I thought we were friends.”
“We were friends,” she agreed. “In fact, we were even more than that. You changed everything. I can’t let myself forget that.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Trust doesn’t come easily once it’s been destroyed. I guess I need to remember that, too.” He glanced at her bowl. “You finished? We should probably get going.”
Sorry that she’d spoiled the easygoing mood between them yet again, Jo merely nodded. It was just as well. They’d been getting too comfortable together…again.
Pete threw a couple of ones on the table, then paid the check. “Are you up for seeing the other house?”
“Of course,” she said, not even trying to hide her eagerness. If it was anything at all like the first one, she was going to love it.
A few minutes later, Pete turned off the main road and cut through a densely wooded lot. When they finally emerged into a clearing, Jo felt her heart begin to pound. She recognized this house as if she’d seen it a thousand times before. In a way she had, because she and Pete had talked about it so often.
She’d had a similar reaction to the first house, but not like this. This morning, certain touches had seemed vaguely familiar, like a distant memory stirring but not quite gelling. Her reaction to this house, though, was in tense and instantaneous. There was no mistaking that this was their dream house.
Unlike the first one, this was all on one floor, sprawling over the waterfront land to take advantage of every view, every breeze. Even from where they sat, she could see through one set of French doors straight through the house to another set that faced the Chesapeake. She already knew there would be ceiling fans in every room, that the porch facing the water would have Victorian trim and railings meant to hold flower boxes spilling over with color.
Despite its obvious size, it somehow captured the feeling of a seaside cottage, something cozy and filled with light and the scent of salt air. She was willing to bet that the master suite would be at one end with rooms for kids and guests at the other, giving the owners privacy even when the house was overrun with family or company.
Despite all her earlier admonitions, she turned to Pete with her heart in her throat. “You built our house,” she said softly. “Just the way we talked about.”
Hands stuffed in his pockets, he nodded. “I tried.”
“But why? And how can you turn around and sell it?”
He looked vaguely embarrassed, which in itself was a shock.
Pete never looked anything other than confident.
“In a weird way, it started out as punishment, sort of a torment,” he admitted, “but in the end it made me feel close to you agai
n. I brought in plumbers and electricians, but all the rest I did myself. I started it right after my divorce became final.”
“Then I’ll ask again—how can you sell it?”
“I’m not going to,” he said, as if he’d just reached a decision. “I’m going to live here.”
“But you told me before you intended to sell both of these houses.”
“I think I might have, if you hadn’t reacted the way you did just now. The minute I saw your face, I knew I couldn’t part with this one, after all.” His gaze lingered on hers. “Want to see the inside?”
“Yes,” she said at once, then, “No.”
He regarded her with amusement. “Which is it?”
“I’m not sure. I think I’m afraid to see the inside.”
“Afraid I’ve gotten it wrong?” he asked.
“No. I’m terrified you’ve gotten it exactly right,” she confessed.
“Would that be so awful?”
Yes, Jo thought to herself. Because Pete would live here without her.
Aloud, she forced herself to say, “No, I suppose not.”
He hopped out of the truck and went around to open her door. When he held out his hand, she took it, then reluctantly stepped down.
At the front door, she hesitated again. She lifted her gaze to meet his. “You know if I walk through this door and fall in love, there’s going to be a problem, don’t you?”
He looked perplexed. “What sort of problem?”
“You’re going to have to fight me to keep this place.”
Pete laughed, then sobered when he apparently realized she was at least halfway serious.
He shrugged. “There’s an easy solution to that, you know. You can just move in here with me.”
Even though his tone was light, Jo’s heart tumbled straight to her toes. The suggestion was too damn tempting. “You know that’s not possible,” she said at once, a reminder meant as much for her as for him.
“Of course, it is,” he said just as readily, then winked at her. “But I’ve got another few weeks’ worth of work to do. You have time to decide.”
But when the door swung open and Jo stepped through, she knew it wouldn’t take nearly that long. She felt as if she’d just come home.
“He’s gotten every single detail exactly right,” Jo complained to her sisters when they stopped by later that evening.
“And that’s a bad thing?” Melanie asked cautiously, clearly not quite certain what to make of Jo’s mood.
“Yes, dammit. I am not supposed to fall in love with a house here, but I have to tell you, I want that house.”
Ashley and Maggie exchanged a grin. “Maybe he’ll sell it to you,” Ashley suggested. “Building and selling houses is what he does, after all.”
“And what will I use to buy it? I don’t have any savings, at least not enough to put a down payment on that house.”
“What was he going to ask for it?”
“I have no idea, but with real estate booming here and that incredible water view, it’s got to be at least half a million. Maybe more. That’s way out of my league,” Jo said with regret.
“But you do want it?” Ashley persisted. “It’s more than sentiment talking?”
“Absolutely,” she insisted, knowing it was impulsive and irrational and completely out of character, especially since until a couple of hours ago she’d had every intention of going back to Boston. “The minute I stepped inside, I knew that house was mine.”
“Unfortunately, Pete seems to be thinking of it as his,” Melanie reminded her.
Jo frowned. “Don’t you think I know that? He was grinning like a fool when he saw me drooling over the place. Now he knows he has leverage. He has something I want, and he knows I’ll do just about anything to get it.”
For the first time since they’d started talking about the house, Ashley looked alarmed. “What do you mean by anything?”
Jo scowled at her. “I’m not going to murder the man in his sleep, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll probably be doing free landscaping design for him till my dying day trying to persuade him to sell me the house.”
“Actually I wasn’t worried so much about murder. I could defend you against that,” Ashley said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m more concerned that you’re going to get mixed up with a man you barely know just because he happened to build your dream house.”
Jo stared at her blankly, then realized that none of her sisters had a clue that Pete had actually built the house because of her. If they knew her history with Pete, Ashley’s mild worry would turn into utter panic. Jo should have kept her mouth shut about this whole stupid mess. It wasn’t as if she could have the house, after all. It was just that they’d arrived while her desire for the place was still fresh. She hadn’t been able to stop talking about the house from the moment they’d arrived.
“Me getting mixed up with Pete is not an issue,” she assured her sister. “Let’s forget about the house. I can’t have it, and that’s that. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“But you did, and you obviously feel passionately about it,” Ashley said. “Let’s get practical. Maybe Pete will build you another house just like it, maybe something on a smaller scale and more affordable.”
“It wouldn’t be the same,” Jo said wistfully.
“Come on, Jo. That’s a great idea,” Melanie enthused. “If you go into partnership with Mike, you’ll have the money for a down payment in no time. Heck, maybe you can even barter a few jobs with Pete to get the rest.”
Jo knew it was ridiculous, but she didn’t want an exact replica. She wanted this one, at least in part because she knew she’d been on Pete’s mind when he’d designed and built it.
But it was out of the question, and that was the end of it.
“Come on, guys, I never should have gotten into this. You just caught me in a weak moment. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Such as?” Maggie asked.
Though she tried desperately, Jo couldn’t think of an alternative topic. Images of the house kept flashing in her mind. She’d been mentally decorating the place ever since she’d seen it. There would be lots of bluestriped cushions and chintz, and old-fashioned wicker furniture for the porch.
“There you go,” Ashley said, when it was clear Jo was stumped for another subject. “This is the only thing that really matters to you. Let’s come up with a plan.”
Jo studied her with a narrowed gaze. “What kind of plan?”
“To get that house away from Pete, of course.”
“Feminine wiles,” Melanie said at once, only to draw scowls from the rest of them. “Hey, it works. Isn’t that all that matters?”
“No, it is not,” Jo said firmly. She couldn’t see herself seducing the house away from Pete. That would just complicate an already tricky situation. In fact, he’d probably be delighted to have her try. He had invited her to move in, after all. Even if the offer had been made in jest, she knew he’d be thrilled if she took him up on it. Only she knew how impossible that was. She was not putting her heart at risk, even for the home she’d always wanted.
“Money talks,” Ashley said, shooting a daunting look at Melanie. “Let’s see what kind of down payment we can scrape together and make the man an offer he can’t refuse.”
“It’s not about the money,” Jo assured her. “Pete loves this house as much as I do.”
“Men don’t fall in love with houses. They want a roof over their heads,” Ashley scoffed.
“Excuse me,” Jo protested. “But don’t you think it might be different with Pete? He builds houses for a living. They have to mean something to him for him to be so good at it.”
Melanie regarded her curiously. “You’re certainly quick to jump to his defense. And you seem to understand what makes him tick. How well have you gotten to know him?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Jo muttered. “You all are impossible. It’s about the house, not Pete. How did we get off trac
k?”
“I thought it was because the two were so intertwined,” Ashley said, a smug expression on her face.
Jo saw she was not going to win an argument with this crowd, not without divulging a whole lot more than she wanted to about her history with Pete.
“How about some ice cream?” she asked cheerfully. “I have hot fudge sauce.”
“It’s thirty degrees outside and you want ice cream?” Ashley asked.
“With hot fudge sauce,” Jo said. “That makes all the difference.”
“Count me in,” Melanie said at once.
“Me, too,” Maggie agreed,
Ashley clearly wasn’t going to be so easily distracted, but when she opened her mouth, Maggie frowned at her, and she clamped her lips together.
“Ashley will have ice cream, too,” Maggie said with a grin.
“Yes, I will,” Ashley said primly. “And then we’ll get back to Pete.”
Jo sighed, but she dished out the ice cream and prayed she could get them all out of the house before her big sister made good on her promise.
8
It was Friday before Pete came around to Rose Cottage again. Despite her desire to keep her emotions in check where he was concerned, Jo realized she’d missed him. She was too honest not to admit that, at least to herself. She told herself it was merely because she was anxious to look for some chink in his determination to keep that house. She also told herself that her long-held hurt and anger over his betrayal were as strong as they’d ever been. They had to be.
Maybe so, she admitted ruefully, but she couldn’t seem to stay away from him. He was on the porch, hammering away, when she took him a mug of steaming coffee.
“How’s it going?” she asked as she handed it to him.
He paused, took a cautious sip of the coffee, then surveyed what he’d accomplished. The new tongue-and-groove flooring was about halfway finished. “It would move a lot faster if I weren’t tied up on so many other jobs right now.”
“There’s no rush,” Jo assured him. “Have you had time to do any work on your two spec houses since we went by there the other day?” She’d deliberately chosen to refer to them as “spec houses” in order to minimize the attachment they both clearly felt, at least to the one.
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