A Kiss to Build a Dream On (17 page)

“I guess we could use the blue table, as long as it's still there,” Willa said. “To spread everything out on, I mean. There's a lot to go through.”

Did she imagine it, or did Burk's eyes darken at the mention of spreading things out on the table?

“I guess we'll kneel,” he said, “since there are no chairs.”

“We'll bow at the altar of my design, you mean.”

His eyes flashed. “Will you require a human sacrifice?”

“Today I only require a caffeine sacrifice. Which you've made, so you're in luck.”

Burk took his notebook out and Willa tried to ignore it. She hated that damn thing. “Start with the kitchen, then?” Burk asked. “I have your paint swatch for the walls. But we'll need to get the flooring ordered. And the cabinet specs are set, but you need to choose the color.”

Willa pulled out the flooring sample she'd found, as well as a kitchen collage she'd put together the previous weekend. “I want the cabinets white, like this. I know Gary down at the hardware store can order them; we talked about it last week. And look, see this sample? The flooring is cork, so it's more sustainable than hardwood. And there's something about the texture that feels a little more homey, don't you think?” She knew she was talking quickly—nearly blathering—but she didn't care. “And the wall color you already know, and the appliances are all here, in this folder.” She handed him a manila file, on the side of which was neatly printed
Kitchen
. “They all fit the specs you gave me.”

When Burk reached for the folder, Willa wondered briefly if his hands were shaking.
Too much caffeine
, she thought, and barreled ahead.

“I've got the dining room color picked out here, along with trim color, which is the same as the ceiling. Floors in all the rooms should be restained in this tone…” She rummaged through some samples until she found the one she wanted. It was also labeled. “It's not too dark, but it does have a hint of red in it, which I like. It reminded me of the trees around here.”

She smiled at him, but he just blinked.
Okay, maybe not
enough
caffeine
, she thought, and kept going.

On she went, handing him folders full of orders, samples, and pictures to meet all the specs he'd given her. When she was finally done, the crew had already filed in for the day, and were starting their work. But Burk barely seemed to register their presence.

“So what do you think?” Willa asked above the noise around them. “It's a lot, I know, but it's—”

“Perfect,” Burk replied, his Adam's apple bobbing in a way Willa had never seen before. “I never imagined it could look like this. I never knew…”

He trailed off. Willa's heart raced as he leaned closer. “It's almost too much,” he said, low enough so Willa had to strain to hear him above the crew noise. “It's almost too unbelievable to see it come to life this way.”

Willa struggled to keep pace. “What do you mean? To see it come to life in what way?”

Burk smiled and shook his head. “Nothing. I just—Willa, I can't think of a more beautiful home. I really can't. Did you learn to do all this in New York?”

New York. Why was he asking about her past now? She wanted to answer carefully, but before she could stop them, the words were tumbling out. “There was an art gallery I liked, the Bishop. I gave them some money and they let me futz with the exhibits. I liked to think about how the space and the art worked together. I suppose it's a little like decorating. Now I'm just learning to work with used tables instead of priceless Manets.”

In spite of the joke, Burk's face remained still. Too still, Willa realized, as if he were fighting a great battle inside, and was determined not to let any of it show.

“In all that time you were in New York, did you ever get married?”

“No,” Willa answered. “I did live with a man, though. Lance.”

The green flecks in Burk's eyes darkened, like the sea before a storm. “Were you happy?”

Willa swallowed, suddenly nervous to be sharing all this. “For a while I thought I was. But now that I look back—no. I don't think I was.”

“Why?”

The back of Willa's neck prickled. The magnetic pull toward Burk threatened to overtake her now that he was asking about her. Taking a genuine interest in her, it seemed. It made her desire surge: made her want to hook her arms around his neck and bury her fingers in his thick hair and kiss the straight, strong line of his jaw over and over. She wanted to invite him back to her bed
now
, and spend the afternoon there—never mind track practice or the recipe exchange or any of it.

The problem was, sex hadn't worked. Sex hadn't changed anything between them last week, and it wouldn't change anything this week, either. She wanted it to—the ache in her muscles and the heat between her legs told her how very, very much she wanted it to. Only it was a lost cause.

Sex was not going to fix what was broken between them.

But maybe an apology could.

No matter how Burk acted, no matter how he treated her now, she owed him an “I'm sorry” for the past. She owed their relationship that much. If they were going to move forward,
that
was what it would take.

He'd asked her why she hadn't been happy, but it wasn't because of Lance. It was because she had never faced up to who she was.

The time to tell him was now or never. She took a steadying breath. “Burk, when I left White Pine all those years ago, I was already so broken. My dad had died, my mom was spending all her time with Max, and you were the only one I had in my life. You held me when I cried, and you took my crazy two o'clock in the morning phone calls, and then I just—I left you. It was horrible. And unfair.”

Burk's body went still. She'd never seen him so immobile. She pressed forward.

“I left because I was afraid that you'd abandon me first. That you'd stop loving me and take off, too. So I ran away before you could. I was dumb and blind, and I thought I'd just…start over or something.

“You were such a good boyfriend, and I was such a terrible girlfriend. You deserved better. I'm sorry I broke your heart and abandoned you. And I'm sorry it took coming back here for me to realize that. And to apologize.”

She held her breath, ready for him to chastise her for taking so long to admit how wrong she was, but when his eyes locked with hers again, there was a smoldering fire there. She almost inched backward from it. His desire was so openly apparent, she automatically looked around to see if any of his crew were watching them.

“As long as we're apologizing,” Burk said, leaning closer, “then let me add one to the pile.” His heat was all around her, searing her skin even though they weren't touching. “The other day, you had a great idea and I—frankly, I ruined it.”

Willa's heart lurched. “You thought it was a great idea?”

Burk arched a brow. “A very,
very
great idea. I'm sorry I left so abruptly. I probably gave you the idea that I wasn't—that is, that I didn't enjoy it. But that's far from the truth.”

Someone started hammering in the kitchen, scrambling Willa's thoughts. She couldn't think straight.

Burk leaned in farther. His stubbled cheek brushed against hers, his warm breath tickled her ear. She could no longer distinguish the pounding in the kitchen from the pounding in her head. “Let's go to dinner tomorrow,” he said, “at Anna's. And afterward, maybe we can try this again.”

Every bone in Willa's body turned liquid. She was going to disintegrate into a puddle right there on the floor, and the crew was going to have to clean her up and put her in the Dumpster in the driveway. “All right,” she said faintly.

He pulled back and ran a finger down the skin of her jaw, leaving a wake of fire behind. She trembled as he grasped her chin and tilted it up.

“I'll stick around this time,” he said, brushing his lips across hers gently. Sparks flew along her skin, along every nerve in her body. He nibbled her bottom lip, nearly unraveling her right there on the floor.

“But before we do anything,” he murmured, his mouth curling into a smile, “I'm going to help you with that palm sander.”

D
owntown White Pine was sagging under piles of wet, sticky snow. It didn't flutter from the sky so much as rain down in thick, heavy flakes that coated everything. Great clumps of the stuff slid off trees and plopped onto Main Street as Willa and Burk pulled up to the hardware store. In front of the Paul Bunyan Diner, a man in a white apron was hard at work trying to shovel the stuff off the sidewalk. His cheeks were pink and his forehead shiny with the effort.

Burk killed the engine and looked at his watch. “I don't think we should be here too long. I need to get back and dismiss the crew so they can get home before the roads are impassable.”

“Of course,” Willa agreed. She smiled at him, liking his concern for his employees. “I just need the sander.”

“And a shovel.”

“Right. And a shovel.”

“And salt.”

“Yes, salt. Not the cooking kind.”

Burk glanced at her feet. “And maybe some boots?”

Willa stared at her leather shoes. Technically, they
were
boots. The only boots she had, in fact, sporting a heel and a lovely zipper up the side. Only they didn't exactly keep the cold out. She could already feel the wet slush seeping into her socks.

“Maybe,” she hedged, “if they have a cute pair or something.”

Burk shook his head. “I guarantee you, White Pine Hardware will
not
have a cute pair. They're going to be green or brown. Rubber and leather. And they're going to be ugly as sin.”

The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened with amusement. Willa felt a smile starting on her own face.

“You want me to wear ugly boots?”

“I want your feet to be warm. I don't much care how they look.”

“Next you'll want me to buy a John Deere hat.”

“They have those here, too. Also in green or brown.”

Willa laughed. “Overalls?”

“That can be arranged.”

“Suspenders?”

“To hold up your waders? Yes.”

Willa giggled helplessly. Burk smiled back, and Willa experienced a lightness she hadn't known in a long, long time.

Happiness.

“I don't care what you wear, Willa Masterson,” Burk said, leaning over to give her a light kiss that had her muscles aching with pleasure. “You don't need to worry about how you look.”

Willa pulled back, surprised.

“You—you didn't think so the other day.”

“How do you mean?”

“When we were in bed. You laughed at me.”

Burk's brows crowded together. “No, I did not. I would
never
—”

“You pulled my shirt off and you were grinning. Like it was hilarious or something.”

Burk's eyes widened. “Only because you looked so different from what I remember. But not bad, different. I never meant for you to think that I was making
fun
of you. Good God, you're…” He ran a hand along the back of his neck, as if struggling for the words. “You're just fine is what you are.”

“Fine?”

“No, no. More than fine. You're great.”

“Great?” Willa crossed her arms. “Next you're probably going to tell me I'm
swell
.”

Burk glanced up at the sky, as if he could find the right words in the fat snowflakes. “Listen, I've blown a lot of hot air at women in my day. But I'm not doing it now. So will you just trust me that I wasn't laughing at you? I wouldn't do that. I
wasn't
doing that.”

His blue eyes were boring into hers, alarming in their intensity.

“I can prove it,” he offered.

“How?”

He leaned over and placed his warm, perfect lips on hers. His hand grasped the back of her head, pulling her toward him. With a firm tenderness he parted her, claiming her mouth entirely with his own. The kiss was all about Willa—slow and deep and giving. He offered pleasure with every stroke of his tongue, matching his lips to hers and keeping them in perfect unison. The kiss ignited every part of her body, leaving her breathless. He nipped gently along her lower lip, causing her to nearly collapse like the damp snow around them.

“You believe me?” he murmured as he finally pulled away after what seemed like hours.

Willa nodded, unable to speak. She had no doubt that he wanted her now.
All
of her.

Her spine still tingling, they exited the truck. They both turned at the sound of another shovel scraping, only to see Betty laboring to remove snow from the sidewalk in front of Knots and Bolts. The plow had already come by and piled up damp mounds of white along the street, and Betty was working to carve what looked like a small mountain pass in front of the shop.

“Oh, we have to help her,” Willa said, starting down the sidewalk. Burk chased after.

“Betty!” Willa called. “We're coming!”

Betty leaned on her shovel, her chest rising and falling underneath her tan parka. Behind her, the awning of Hair We Go creaked under the weight of all the snow, threatening to rip at any moment. “Well, that's a relief,” Betty said at their approach. “I was wondering when a New Yorker might come save me in a snowstorm.”

Willa might have been irritated, if it weren't for the fact that Betty was going to be helping her draw up a business plan later that afternoon.

“All right, muscles,” Betty said, handing the shovel to Burk, “let's see what you can do.”

With a pointed glance at Willa, Burk began to shovel. The scrape of the metal on concrete made her shiver.

“It's like God's dandruff,” Betty said after a moment. “And the Good Lord just keeps itching his scalp.”

Willa grinned. Behind them, geese honked on the banks of the Birch River, riding out the storm in feathered clusters.
Bad timing
, Willa thought. If they had any sense, they'd be in Florida by now.

“I thought I'd be here all afternoon,” Betty said, watching Burk. “This is downright Sisyphean.”

“Sisa what?” Willa asked.

“Sisyphus. Greek guy. Rolled a rock up a hill every day, and just when he was at the top, it rolled back down and he'd have to start all over again. Every day. For eternity.”

Willa tried to catch a snowflake on her tongue. “Thounds awfthl.”

“Zeus did it,” Burk said, hurling a pile of snow onto the bank the plow had created. “Sisyphus thought he was smarter than Zeus, so Zeus punished him.”

Willa stopped catching snowflakes. “Since when do you know Greek history?”

“Greek
mythology
,” Burk said, sending another heavy pile of snow flying. “And I make it a point to memorize stories about people who get too big for their britches. Cautionary tales, you can call them.”

Before she could respond, there was a flap of black among the flakes, and Randall Sondheim was standing next to her. “It's always valuable finding lessons in texts other than the Bible,” the pastor said by way of greeting.

“Hello to you, too,” Willa said, taking in the man's grumpy, rounded posture, made worse by the elements.

Betty looked the pastor up and down. Snowflakes coated her eyelashes. “Only preaching I want to hear today is in relation to this snow.”

The pastor met Betty's fierce gaze. “Do you have a Bible verse you think is applicable?”

“Jesus wept.”

Willa snorted laughter, then quickly covered her mouth.

Betty crossed her arms. “Pastor Indecisive came in a week ago for fabric to recover his favorite chair, wasted two hours of my time trying to pick one out, and then left without buying anything.”

“I was coming back today to make my choice,” he said evenly, though Willa thought she detected a flash of frustration in his eyes. Betty could flap the unflappable, Willa thought.

“We're closed today,” Betty replied. “See this snow? That means no business lesson or recipe exchange tonight, either, Willa.”

Willa nodded, repressing a wave of disappointment. She'd been looking forward to talking with Betty, not to mention learning how to make hot dish.

“Perhaps I could implore you to reconsider,” Pastor Sondheim said, his black coat standing in sharp contrast to the white all around him. “I could run up to the bakery and bring you a donut. Make it worth your while.”

Willa realized suddenly that today wasn't Wednesday.
That
was the pastor's donut day, but here the regimented man was, offering to buy donuts on
Thursday
. He must really want to spend time with Betty if he was willing to switch up his pastry purchases.

Suddenly Willa wondered if Randall Sondheim hadn't stalled in Knots and Bolts because he couldn't make up his mind about fabric. Maybe there was a different reason altogether.

She glanced at Betty. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw a softness in her face. It was very possible Betty had deeper feelings for the pastor than she was letting on.

“Burk,” Willa said, grabbing his arm, “maybe the pastor here could finish up, so you and I can get our things and get back to the house.”

“Be happy to,” Randall replied, stepping over to take the shovel.

Burk was about to protest, but Willa elbowed him sharply. “Bye, Betty!” she called, practically dragging Burk up the street. Betty just stared at them with raised eyebrows as the pastor continued moving the heavy powder.

“What was that all about?” Burk asked, brushing damp snow off his coat when they were safely inside the hardware store.

Willa grinned. “I'm positive Randall Sondheim likes Betty!”

“Because he wants to buy fabric from her?”

“And also because he's going to buy a donut on
Thursday
.”

Burk considered it. “I did wonder why he'd changed his donut-buying day.”

“Also I saw some sparks flying between the two of them after Sunday's sermon.”

“What do you mean you saw sparks? Were they making out or something?”

Willa laughed. “No. They were talking in the church basement.”

“Oh,” Burk said dryly, “of course, the perfect place for romance to bloom.”

“I'm serious. I think there's something between them.”

“Something like?”

“You know. Starts with L. Ends with OVE.”

“L'Ove? Is that French?”

“
Love.
”

Burk laughed. “Come on,” he said, “let's go get you some boots and a sander.”

“And salt and a shovel.”

“Yes. And those, too.”

If Burk had said they were going to buy diamonds, Willa wasn't sure she'd have been any more pleased.

Later that afternoon, Audrey called Willa to tell her track practice was canceled—schools were closed and kids were sent home. Outside, the snow kept piling up in thick mounds that snapped branches off trees and weighted down power lines and blanketed the fall colors that had been at their peak of brilliance.

Willa watched the white flakes with increasing anxiety. She wasn't sure what she'd do if the power went out, or if she couldn't get her car out of the driveway. Burk had sent the last of his crew home, and was packing up his toolbox now. When he left, it would just be Willa against the elements.

“I'll be fine,” she muttered to herself, going into the kitchen to make some tea. But then she realized she had no stove since it had been carted away the day before. Her kettle was packed away. And who even knew what box the tea was in?

Not a problem
, she thought to herself. Burk had encouraged her to stop by the grocery store for a few bags of food, and she could always make a peanut butter sandwich and drink water out of the bathroom faucet if she had to. As long as her pipes didn't freeze.

She paced the torn-up floor, suddenly worried. What if the power gave out, and she was without heat? What if the food ran out and she was trapped here?

“All right,” Burk said, striding into the kitchen, “everyone's out for the day, so I'm going to head—” He took one look at her face and stopped short. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

Willa forced herself to smile. She was not a baby. A little snow was not going to take her down, for crying out loud. “Nothing,” she lied, “I'm just trying to figure out how to use that palm sander if the power goes out.”

“Well, you've got a generator, right?”

Willa shook her head. “No.”

Burk looked suddenly concerned. “Propane?”

“Like the gas?”

“Yes, like the gas.”

“No.”

Burk sighed. “Are you telling me we were at the hardware store earlier today and you didn't think to pick up
any
of this stuff?”

Willa clenched her hands. “How was I supposed to know I needed it? In New York, if there's a blizzard, you just go find a Chinese place that's open, and then watch movies.”

Burk arched a dark brow. “Well, you're not
in
New York anymore. You're in Minnesota. You came back here in September, and you didn't think you might want to plan for some snow?”

Willa's insides sank. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She was such a fool. Just when she thought she was getting the hang of White Pine again, Mother Nature showed her how little she knew. She thought of the army green boots she'd purchased today and shuddered. If it weren't for Burk, she wouldn't even have the right
footwear
.

“I didn't know,” she said, studying her cuticles. “I haven't seen snow like this in a long time, okay?”

Burk sighed. “All right, look. This is only going to get worse. You're going to have to go somewhere.”

Willa raised her eyes. “Like where?”

He took a step closer. Their gazes locked. “We'll have to think about this.”

His voice was an octave lower. The way he'd emphasized the word
think
made Willa tremble. She wanted to reach out, to run her finger along the sharp line of his jaw. The sudden dark desire in his eyes was like a gravitational pull. “I'm sure someone will take me in,” she said slowly.