Katrina clenched her jaw and rolled her eyes. His withholding of information killed the mood. She pushed past him, brushing her shoulder to his. The stubborn man wouldn’t tell her anything.
Over the next half hour, they went through a detailed tour of the upper level. The old tiled flooring in one of the bedrooms had been replaced with oak hardwood. New windows had also been installed, as well as crown molding in the hallway between the bedrooms.
Nick entered the master bedroom.
But Katrina hesitated in the doorway. She inhaled a deep breath, suddenly unsure of what she’d find past the threshold.
Nick furrowed his brows, and then turned to the door. “I’ve been dragging you around here all evening. Why don’t we call it a day?”
She ignored him and stepped in the room. Katrina smiled, remembering how her parents’ bedroom once looked. Her mother’s design of caramel-colored walls and floral curtains made the small room cozy. Corner night stands and glass table lamps allowed for space on each side of the bed, which was covered in a gold-toned, frilly bedspread and matching pillow shams. Another set of pillows rested on two armchairs on either side of the window. Katrina could picture her mother sitting in one of the chairs, reading a romance novel she had borrowed from the library. Nick’s voice stirred Katrina from her trip down memory lane and she glanced toward him.
“I like this color. I’m sure the color is no longer available, but I can get a sample and maybe get a close match.” He tapped a hand on the wall. “The room is in good shape, just needs a fresh coat of paint.”
“Nick, I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” She forced a smile. Her heart ached at the thought of remodeling this room, yet the visual made missing her parents stronger. “You can make whatever changes you want. They’re not for me to enjoy.”
He leaned against the wall, his long legs stretched out. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Depends on the question.” She placed her hands on her hips.
“Why do you want to sell this place?”
“The answer is obvious. I live in Paris.” She didn’t want to talk about the past. The loss of her family was too much to remember.
“This house is filled with memories of your childhood.”
Her smile faded. “My memories are here.” She rested a hand on her chest, feeling her heart thudding.
Nick stepped closer, holding out his hands. “Then why are you haunted by the past?”
She shoved his hands aside. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Then talk. Let me in. Let me help.”
“I don’t need to rehash my past or discuss my troubles!” Katrina walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She ran down the stairs and into the living room. The walls were closing in, her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and her breathing staggered. She bent at the waist, calming her breaths to lessen the anxiety attack.
Katrina wanted to open up to Nick and to share her sorrow, but to do that meant letting him in. She couldn’t allow Nick Porter close to her heart, because leaving him would then be even harder.
“Katrina…”
She inhaled a deep breath, straightened, and turned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just not ready to talk about my past.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed. I promise to wait until you’re ready. If or when that time comes, please know I’m here.”
The weight, heavy on her chest, lifted, and she could draw a full breath. “Thank you.” Katrina wondered how willing Nick would be to open up. “Can I ask a question?” She didn’t wait for his response. “What did Dean say to upset you?”
Nick moved to the large picture window, staring into the darkness of the night. “Nothing.”
“You’re lying.” Why did he insist on shutting her out? “I know whatever is troubling you, is important. Maybe I can help.”
He faced her. “There’s an audit due soon, and I haven’t balanced the books. Dean reminded me of the deadline. No big deal.”
“I can review your paperwork.” She hoped her offer to help would remove the heavy burden he carried.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
He is so stubborn. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Katrina put her hands on her hips. “I’m a master with numbers. If you need a reference, just talk to Frankie. I want to help you and I won’t take no for an answer. Besides, the paperwork will give me something to occupy my afternoons, instead of bugging your crew.” She checked her watch. “Bring your books and paperwork here tomorrow, I’ll go through them.”
Nick’s shoulders dropped. “Thank you, Katrina.”
****
Over the next two days, Nick and his crew made a lot of progress on the house. Even though he was in attendance both days, to her disappointment, Katrina only saw him for short periods of time. Because a heavy rainfall was expected this evening, the crew had been busy completing outside work.
She kept her distance from the house, leaving the crew to their work while she sorted through Nick’s finances, which was no small task.
When Nick showed up on her doorstep yesterday, he’d held a battered shoebox. “This is your business, in a box?” Katrina stared with wide eyes and tension grew in her chest. Who managed a business out of a battered container? “No wonder you couldn’t make sense of the numbers.” Every business transaction from expenses, to payments, and invoice copies were mangled inside the box in no specific order. She spent the whole evening just sorting through and organizing the paperwork.
Katrina understood Nick’s indecision to leave his financial papers in her care. He was placing trust in a woman he barely knew. At least, he had sought advice before doing so. Nick questioned Frankie about Katrina’s bookkeeping abilities, and only after she reassured him of Katrina’s capability and discretion regarding financial matters had he trusted Katrina with his shoebox.
The hands on the wall clock showed after one. Katrina stood and stretched her arms over her head. Her cell phone rang. The number from Paris flashed on the screen. She hit End and went to the kitchen, taking out the whole wheat bread, ham, butter, and milk from the fridge. Standing by the window moments later, she bit into her sandwich and watched the crew. The rain had started about twenty minutes ago. Nick and his men ran in and out of the house, covering the stacks of wood with tarps, carrying their tools into the house, and securing anything that might get damaged from the wind and rain.
She chewed the last bite of her lunch and swallowed a mouthful of milk, before sitting at the table to flip through the paint samples Nick had dropped off earlier that morning. He told her blue was the color of dark mystery, deep oceans, and of infinity and inner strength. Now she was hooked on the color for the kitchen, but who knew there’d be so many variations to choose from.
Lightning Star too dark. Rio Grande love the name, but too dark, as well. Bottled Water fitting for a kitchen, but not an eye-pleasing color. Baby Blue soft and calming, perfect!
Her choice made, Katrina circled the winner. She then chose warm neutrals for the remainder of the first floor. Dusty Canyon for the living room, Mochachino for the dining room, and Beige Chiffon for the den. She scratched that task off her to-do list and returned to her desk to continue organizing Nick’s receipts. Her phone buzzed, she picked it up and upon recognizing the number, she smiled. “Hello, my dear friend.”
“I figured we’d have to chat by phone today since this weather is hindering an outing,” Frankie said.
“What am I missing out on today?” Katrina wrapped an elastic band around another stack of paperwork, attaching a sticky note to indicate the category.
“A fresh batch of blueberry muffins just came out of the oven.”
“Ugh, Frankie, you’re a terrible tease. I’m happy you’re not here today because if I keep eating all those goodies, I’ll never fit into the new clothes I bought yesterday.” Katrina’s wardrobe had increased by purchasing several pairs of casual pants, shorts, tops, and Frankie’s choice of a dat
e dress.
“Are you wearing that cute light blue T-shirt I picked out?”
She glanced down at her blue shirt and white pants. “I am, and the shade was my color inspiration for the kitchen.”
“I can’t wait to see the inside of the house. I bet the renovation is really coming along.”
Katrina wouldn’t allow Frankie inside the main house until the majority of the work had been completed. She worried her friend might stumble and get hurt. “The guys have been scurrying around out there all day. The rain has them working inside now, but I’m assuming they’ll wrap up early. The reports on the radio are about high winds and the risk of a power outage.”
“Have you seen Nick today?”
“This morning. He dropped off the paint samples after I returned from my jog. I’m working on his bookkeeping as we speak.” She glanced at the stack of paper on her desk. “Because I’ve seen how Nick is so organized on his construction sites, I didn’t expect his paperwork to be such a mess.”
“Paperwork isn’t his strong point.”
“Then why doesn’t he have an accountant managing his financial records?” When Katrina’s question met silence, she frowned, not liking the mental picture that was forming. “Frankie, I have a lot of money going into this renovation. I have a right to know what’s going on.”
“I don’t feel comfortable talking about Nick behind his back.”
“Nick runs his own business, which at one time was thriving, yet he now has no office staff or accountant.” An accountant who would not operate from a shoebox. Katrina sighed. “I hope you didn’t let me get involved with an unreliable company.”
“I would never do that. Nick is very reputable.”
“Then tell me what is going on.”
A long pause was followed by a groan. “Okay,” Frankie said. “Nick arrived in Montreal about two years ago, looking to start his own contracting business. Because he refused to disclose any previous work history, no one would give him the time of day. Thomas met Nick at the hardware shop, and they struck up a friendship. We knew if he did the renovation on our place, we could brag about his work and then people would see it and hire him.”
“I had no idea Nick remodeled your house.” Katrina remembered the amazing pictures Frankie emailed when her house had been modernized from an ordinary split entry to an extraordinary Cape Cod.
“Nick designed everything and did most of the work himself. And Thomas and I were right. People were impressed by Nick’s work. He then received many calls for jobs.”
Katrina opened the desk drawer and pulled out the documents Glen had sent her through an email. She flipped through the information her grandmother had filed on Nick’s business—its relevance to her grandmother still a secret. “Frankie, I know about Nick’s business. He’s in the red, and the bank is knocking at his door. What’s up with that?”
“I shouldn’t say anything else.”
“I need to know.” Any information about Nick was important to their business relationship and her personal interest.
Frankie sighed. “Thomas and Nick went out one evening for a few beers. Nick told Thomas about his past, and Thomas told me—”
“Thomas isn’t a snitch.” Katrina laughed. She knew her best friend’s husband well enough to know he’d never repeat a private story…not without a lot of prodding from his wife.
“Okay, I made him tell me. My cooking is an amazing bribe tactic. Anyway, here’s the short version. Nick ran a business in Calgary. He was the architect and his best friend handled the contracting. Nick met a woman, fell in love, and asked her to marry him. He thought he had everything, a successful business, a partner he could trust, and the perfect woman to share his life—until one day he goes into the office and finds an empty room.”
Katrina’s swallowed past the lump in her throat, gripping the phone in her hand. “What?”
“The place was cleaned out, his best friend and fiancée were gone, and the business account closed.”
She shook her head. This couldn’t be true. “Nick’s best friend stole his girl and his money?” She wanted to strangle them with her bare hands.
“Nick had left the finances to his partner, believing he could trust him, but his friend had been slowly transferring the company’s funds to a private account. Nick blames himself. He told Thomas he should have paid more attention, to the money and his woman. Nick left Calgary and arrived here. Even though his business here is growing, he’s struggling to stay ahead because there’s so much debt.”
“Wow.” Katrina didn’t know what else to say, but she now understood Nick’s hesitance to trust.
“I knew Nick had an audit due,” Frankie continued. “The day after you arrived, I suggested he ask you for help. Thomas told Nick you’ve been handling our finances for years. I honestly didn’t think Nick would let you go through his books. He has trust issues, but he accepted your offer to help. That’s a big step for Nick. I think he likes you, a lot.”
Katrina stacked another pile of receipts, dismissing her trembling fingertips. “Your matchmaking has to stop. Nick and I have a business relationship only.”
“I’ve seen your gaze lingering on Nick when you don’t think anyone is looking. He checks you out, as well.”
Her pulse fluttered at the thought of Nick’s brown-eyed stare sweeping over her. “You’re crazy, my friend. I haven’t been ogling Nick and even if I was—which I’m not—who could blame me? He’s easy on the eyes.”
Before her comment was perceived as an invitation to push Katrina and Nick together, Katrina said she had to focus on Nick’s bookkeeping before he returned to pick up his box. Unfortunately, her attention to the paperwork was lost. Her thoughts drifted to Frankie’s disclosure of Nick’s background. He must have been heartbroken. Betrayed by his business partner and the woman he loved. How could they deceive him and leave him with nothing?
Katrina fought the desire to run across to the house, to wrap her arms around Nick, and to help him any way she could. Years of hard work had created a healthy bank account. Her personal savings would clear Nick’s debt and have his business thriving, but he wouldn’t accept her money. His stubborn pride wouldn’t let him. He had struggled on his own the past two years, never asking for help because opening up brought the risk of betrayal. His troubling story touched her heart.
She inhaled a deep breath and leaned her elbows on the desk, resting her chin in her hands. Katrina had been ogling Nick. Since meeting him, she often wondered what being held by those muscular arms and kissed by those delicious lips would be like. She longed to open her heart, but couldn’t. Heartbreak was too great a risk. Everyone dear to Katrina’s heart were gone—her first crush died of a brain tumor, her parents in a car accident, and now her grandmother. They all promised they’d never leave, yet they had without warning, shattering her trust and faith in love.
The only person Katrina could rely on was herself. Since experiencing her grandmother’s passing, she’d come to terms that she’d be alone, which had worked out just fine…until Nick Porter came along.
Chapter Eight
Engines rumbled in the driveway. Katrina peeked through the sheer curtains. The remaining workers were leaving, climbing into their trucks and backing out of the driveway as the wipers swished the down-pour of rain from the windshield at high speed.
Katrina tilted her head from shoulder to shoulder. She sat tall in her chair and stacked the last file on the corner of her desk. She smiled, pleased at a job well done, not to mention in record time. After Katrina completed Nick’s bookkeeping, she organized his paperwork in file folders and labeled each one. She had even purchased a legal-sized box, hoping he would approve of a new filing system.
The microwave buzzed—another purchase from yesterday’s shopping spree with Frankie. Katrina lifted the lid of the casserole dish. Steam escaped, filling the room with the aroma of tomatoes and cheese. She set the table for one and poured a glass of wine.
As she went to sit, she
heard a sharp rap on the door that made her jump. She glanced through the kitchen window. Nick stood on the porch, his hair and jacket dripping in the rain. She ran to the door. “Get inside before you blow away in the wind.”
“Thank you.” Nick shook the rain from his jacket. A waterfall of drops rippled onto the doormat. “You mentioned this morning that you might have my paperwork done?” He glanced toward the table and his mouth tightened. “I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your supper. I won’t keep you.” He turned toward the door.
No, don’t leave. Katrina tugged the sleeve of his wet jacket. “I haven’t started eating yet. Would you like to join me?” Please say, yes.
“No, I don’t want to intrude.” Nick inhaled and glanced around. “Although something smells delicious.”
“Lasagna, compliments of Frankie. There’s more than enough, and I’d love the company.” Butterflies danced in her belly.
“If you’re sure?” His brow rose.
Spend the evening alone, or with Nick? Hmm, decisions, decisions. She walked to the table and pulled out a second chair. “I’m afraid I don’t have any beer. Will a glass of wine do?” Without waiting for an answer, Katrina retrieved another glass from the cupboard.
“Sounds good.” He shrugged out of his jacket, hung it on the hook by the door, and joined her at the table. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Everything is ready. I bought a microwave yesterday, and Frankie supplied me with enough food to last a week.” Katrina set another plate on the table and scooped a large spoonful of lasagna on Nick’s plate. “I only have a small fridge and now the door barely closes.”
He laughed. “When I first moved here, I spent most evenings dining on fast food until I met Thomas and Frankie. She spoiled me rotten by supplying me with home-cooked meals.” Nick chewed a mouthful of noodles and then wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Speaking of spoiling, what’s up with your tea and coffee? My men are hooked. They refused to drink the coffee I bought this morning.”
“Tea and coffee are my company’s specialty. I brought along a full box of samples, and I’ve been sharing them. My preference is the herbal and white teas, while Frankie enjoys the hot tea with lemon juice and sugar.” She smiled as she always did when bragging about her company’s product. “Dean and the guys like the Masala lemon in roasted cumin powder, lemon juice, black salt, and sugar, which gives a tangy, spicy taste. You can also add honey, mint, whisky, or brandy.” Why was she listing ingredients? Gram always said I babble when I’m nervous.
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