Black Creek Burning (The Black Creek Series, Book 1) (16 page)

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I can come back later." She tugged on her ear. "Or just call.
It's nothing, really."

"Is this her?" the man asked.

"Yep." Nathan offered introductions before turning back to him. "Call me with the
new estimate." He held out a hand to shake.

"Pretty, aren't you?" The man tipped his cap to her as he shook with Nathan. "Tell
your dad I've got an order for tops coming up." He walked out jotting notes on his
yellow pad as he left.

"Is
what
her?" she asked.

"Doesn't look like much yet. The upstairs bathrooms are done. Painters just finished
the bedrooms this morning."

"Can I see?"

"That's the third time you've asked me that question." He tucked a loose strand of
hair behind her ear. "That's not why you came."

"No." Her breath caught at the feel of his touch. "But I'd still like to take a look."

They walked around men and plastic Visqueen as they made their way upstairs.

The tile was striking. It covered the large tub and separate shower in the master
bathroom. The floors were speckled beige with smaller, matching tiles behind the vanity.
The counters looked like slabs of stone with tumbled edges. A huge mirror was framed
with tight-grained wood embedded in the tiles, matching the vanity. Instead of blinds,
stained glass in a matching frame covered the single window with a hinged side.

"The pattern of the stained glass matches the front of the vanity doors," she said.

"You're observant. I made it that way."

She took a step forward and ran her fingers across the glass, then opened it using
the knob in the bottom corner. The window faced the back of the house. She pondered
over the generous yard space. She wondered if he knew some of his trees were not dormant,
but dead. She imagined a corner plot with a handful of Foerster grasses for a canvas
backdrop. Lines of Yellow Yarrow mixed with red Penstemon behind groups of purple
Liatris would do nicely in the southern sun along with clumps of Shasta daisies for
cutting.

"Who did you end up hiring for your yard?"

The corners of his mouth lifted. "Haven't got around to that yet."

"Technically, you can lay sod anytime, but summer means heat stress and constant watering
and late spring means the crabgrass is going to take root... in the next few weeks."
She lifted to her toes and looked back out the window. "It's really recommended that
you get started before the weeds start to germinate."

Yes, and I can hold out much longer than you can, Nathan thought. "The other bathrooms
look much the same, only I chose a faint peach coloring for the tiling."

"You're not calling anyone anytime soon, are you? You are going to have a beautifully
finished home with an overgrown yard."

"Noted." Her frustration was sexy and her professionalism impressive. "Why did you
come by?" he asked, walking back out and into his freshly painted bedroom.

"Nothing that couldn't have waited. Andy's midterm test scores came back. You'll receive
a report soon, but I wanted to share with you that he's doing very well. Almost completely
caught up. I can tell you're working with him at home."

"That means a lot. His other teachers told me I was basically doing a bad job. We
just do what you send home with him."

"I forget how hard all of this must be for you, and you're not one for excuses so
I'll just say that he's doing amazing work and this place is coming along beautifully.
I heard the man you were arguing with mention that he works with your dad. I realized
I don't know what your parents do."

He slid down to the floor and leaned against a wall. "Mom retired early. She was a
nurse. They like to travel and her schedule didn't suit her. Dad has his own business.
He works mostly with plastic laminate."

She looked puzzled as she sat down next to him.

"Countertops and cabinets made with a plastic, counter-top material, like for business
reception counters. His place is just a few miles from here." He stretched out his
legs and crossed them at the ankles. The master bedroom contained hardly more than
his messy mattress. "He's scaled back a lot. Wants to spend more time on sporadic
trips with Ma."

Brie leaned a shoulder against the wall. "What will you do when you're done here?
Do you miss owning your own business? If you don't mind me asking, how can you afford
to do all of this with no income?"

"That's a lot of questions. Let's see. I miss building for people, but not the being-in-charge-of-employees
part or the bookwork. I have plans to start up again when I'm done here—on a much
smaller scale. And I'm rich."

She turned her head to the side but kept the moss green glued to him. "Excuse me?"

"To which part?"

"The rich part, I guess," she said, eyes wandering.

"I have a lot of money. People like to pay for my work." He shrugged a shoulder. "Plus,
I sold the studio with the shop attached and most of my larger equipment."

"How much is a lot?"

He grinned at her forwardness and simply answered, "Millions."

Brie choked. "Millions of
dollars
? What are you doing in this neighborhood? Why didn't you buy a place already done
or hire people to finish this one before you moved in?" She paused and pulled on her
ear before she added, "That came out wrong. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I like the older homes in this neighborhood. The lake. The creek. I told
you before, I'd just rip up a finished place anyway. I like a house built my way.
It's good for the boys to learn to use their hands. Not enough people do that anymore."

He saw his opening and went for it. "Why do you blame yourself for the fire?"

Brie started to stand. He'd expected it and gently grabbed her arms, bringing her
back to the floor. "You can ask personal questions, but I can't?"

Patiently, he waited through the line of silence.

"Fair enough, but first tell me what makes you think I blame myself?"

"I'm observant... especially when it comes to you." He made sure not to crowd her.

Her shoulders visibly loosened. She rested her head against the wall with her eyes
on his. "You're always so composed," she said. "In control, even the times when you're
angry." She turned her eyes to the bedroom window and took a slow breath.

"They'd been out of town. They hardly ever got out together, just the two of them,
but they had that week. They came back a day early, later in the evening. They thought
I was home. My car was in the garage, in their spot. I took a cab because Liz and
I were out celebrating a keynote speaking address I'd landed. I knew I would likely
have a few extra drinks—which I did. I saw their car, but I stopped in the drive to
watch a couple of people who were walking up the street.

"I should have been home. Someone set a fire in my bedroom. A fire that was set to
explode when my door was opened.

"I stood there wasting time, thinking how odd it was for someone to be out so late
in this neighborhood. Stood there instead of getting inside to keep them from looking
for me." She closed her eyes. "I figured out later the people walking must have been
the ones that broke in and set the fire. The fire that was meant for me, not them.
I started back toward their house and stopped, even again, to admire how the color
of Mom's flowers lit in the moonlight."

He remained silent and resisted the urge to wrap his arms around her.

"She never grew flowers anywhere but along that walk. Such an efficient woman. She
kept them meticulously weeded and watered. I heard the smoke detectors and stood at
the front door, wasting more time fumbling with my keys. I didn't even try the door
first. It was unlocked. I saw them running down the hallway, heard them yelling my
name as they reached my bedroom.

"They still had on the silly tropical shirts and cargo-type pants they liked to travel
in. I froze in the middle of the stairs, staring at this yellowish air that sucked
under my bedroom door." She shook her head like she was trying to remain in the present.

"The rest is in the files."

"Counselors have already given me the no-one-could-have-known talk. I hung on to the
night to survive. I push relationships away to survive. I'll push you away. I've already
pushed, but you seem to maneuver around me. You don't pull at me. I haven't figured
you out yet, Nathan. I don't have a good track record with relationships. You shouldn't
wait for me like this. My last boyfriend called me ice. He wasn't wrong."

He used his thumb to wipe away the single tear that escaped her expressionless eyes.
"You open yourself to your students. You take extra time to help a boy who's struggling
with reading. Duncan's a hit at school, because you told him to draw Corvettes on
the cover of his binders. You keep the memory of your parents alive because you love
them, not because you feel responsible for their deaths. And I'm not a child who needs
attention. Don't look so deeply into us, Brie. Let go. It might just feel good."

Chapter 14

Nathan watched as Brie pulled in her drive. Macey's head stuck out the truck's back
window. He'd waited patiently on her front porch, leaning back against one of the
pillars and reading the newspaper. Brie let the dog out, then walked toward him. Macey
ran ahead and sat on his feet.

"You didn't come by this morning." He turned a page.

"Come by?"

Folding the paper, he reached down to rub Macey's ears. "Each day for the past three
months, you've run by my house with this dog, sending mine into a fit. You didn't
come by this morning. I overslept. Everything okay?"

"Well, come in off my porch. We'll have something to drink and I'll explain."

He noticed a grin and the way she practically bounced past him.

She was still in her work clothes. He watched the pieces of her hair that had escaped
her pins move around her neck as she walked.

"Macey didn't want to run this morning. I was worried and got her in to see her vet
after work." Brie took down two glasses and an unopened bottle of wine.

"Is she okay? Let me open that," he offered.

"Got it."

Of course you do, he thought.

"We'll need to celebrate." She had hardly gotten the cork out before turning. "She's
pregnant!" she said and ran to him.

He barely had time to brace a leg behind him before Brie leaped. Landing in his arms,
she wrapped her legs around his sides.

"We're going to have puppies!" She covered his face with kisses before ending at his
lips.

He went from zero to sixty in no time. Inside him, heat exploded. Her firm legs wrapped
around him, he held her up with her very female backside resting in his hands.

Brie pulled away and dropped to her feet, turning in a happy circle. He leaned against
the counter, trying to recover and enjoying the show.

He hadn't known puppies were so important to her. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. What makes you ask that?" She stopped dancing, but was still
grinning as she poured the wine in the two glasses.

"Well, they're... discreet."

"Goldie is
not
discreet." She handed him a glass.

"How do you know Goldie's the dad?" He smiled now.

She took a long sip. "Are you saying my dog sleeps around?"

"No. I'm saying that she's free to... see whatever dog she wants. No commitment there."

Brie looked up at him through her lashes. "What if she's not interested in any other
dog?"

"Guess that depends on if we're still talking about the dogs." He set down his glass.

The corners of her mouth lifted as she bit her bottom lip. Brie set down her glass
and coiled one of her legs around the back of his.

He gripped her hips and pressed her into him. The moss green gaze dropped to his mouth
as the blood drained from his head.

It was she who fisted his hair in her hands and closed the distance between their
lips. Hers were full, her mouth soft, firm. She tasted of wine and woman. Intoxicating.
Their lips moved together as their breath quickened. He probably had hold of her harder
than he should have as he traveled a hand from her hip to her lower back. Wanting,
he used the hand to pull her closer.