Black Creek Burning (The Black Creek Series, Book 1) (7 page)

She walked up the drive, noticing a dumpster that overflowed with old carpet and rotted
boards. The snow on the drive was packed, the garage door open. She saw Nathan bundled
up, wearing headphones and using thick chains to beat on some very long boards that
were draped across large rectangular tables. This was the strangest man. She had to
tap him on the shoulder to get his attention.

Normal people would jump if they were alone, listening to music and someone tapped
them on the shoulder. Nathan Reed simply stopped beating the wood, turned his head
and lifted an eyebrow. His eyes met hers, dropped to her leash, then down to his dog.
Soon after she saw the realization in his eyes, he turned his head and shoulders to
look at the door leading from his mudroom to the garage that hung wide open. He shut
his eyes tight and turned his head back to her as he slid off his headphones.

Oh, yeah, her mad was back. She pulled on Goldie's collar as she eased his rump down.
Placing her open hand in front of his face, she gave him the command to sit. "Do you
know what your dog has done? Did you know we have a leash law in upstate New York?
He came running through the creek and trailed a muddy mess through my house. And why
the hell are you beating on that wood?"

Add temper to cranky, Nathan decided. Yes, very interesting. He'd have to remember
to keep an eye on the temper. Watching the rant, he thought she had the prettiest
mouth he'd ever seen. He hooked his thumbs in his front pockets.

"You just told me what my dog has done. I know the laws in upstate New York as I'm
originally from here. And how did he get inside your house?"

Brie let out a quick, "Huh?" and put her hands on the back of her hips. "I... let
him in." She sighed as her shoulders dropped. "I didn't notice the muddy paws, and
you still haven't answered my question about why a grown man is taking out his frustrations
on perfectly good boards. They look new."

He considered letting his dog run loose more often if it got her to talk this much.
"I'll apologize for the dog. I didn't realize I'd left the door open. Looks like I've
been heating the neighborhood." He kept talking as he meandered over to shut it. "I'm
not beating on the boards. I'm distressing them. Come, I'll show you."

He reached to take the leash from her. No gloves today and no ring. Add intriguing
to interesting. As he reached, she pulled back. He decided he would have to work on
the personal-space issue slowly.

"I thought I'd tie him up for a while. Seems he'd rather be outside. I've got a nice
long rope around front." He took the leash from her.

As he walked out and around to the front porch, Brie waited in the garage.

"Nice one, mutt," he muttered to his dog and couldn't decide if he meant it sarcastically
or appreciatively. Not sure if Brie had stepped out to watch, he turned his back toward
the garage to conceal that he scratched his dog's ears before leashing Goldie to the
porch. But she wasn't there when he turned.

He found her still in his garage, bent over, face close to one of the boy's bedroom
dressers. Two of them stood side by side next to the two full-sized beds, matching
dressers and nightstands. Once again, he found himself merely watching her. She rotated
her head to the boards he'd been working on to match the furniture, then back to the
dresser. As if it might bite her, she slowly reached out and ran her hands over the
finish, stopping at the indented distressed marks.

The generous reaction from the public toward his work was always flattering, but this
was more. The awe in her eyes and her cautious touch was... humbling. It reminded
him of when he'd learned the magic of creating the comfortable look in the wood.

"As I said, it's called distressing, but it works on frustrations, too."

Her hand jerked back. "Sorry. It's beautiful." She didn't turn to him. "Where is your
family?"

"You need to stop apologizing. The furniture's been in the rooms of young boys. It's
been through worse than a woman's touch. They're with my folks." He placed his hand
on top of hers, ready for the escape attempt and placed it back on the dresser.

She ran her hands along the top, along the smooth marks. "The ones you moved to be
closer to."

"Yes." He handed her leash back to her. Those eyes. So much going on behind those
large, green eyes.

She shook her head slightly twice and stood. "I can't have your unneutered dog around
mine."

Startled at the turn of the conversation, he paused to gather his thoughts. "It's
a little hypocritical to give me grief about my dog not being fixed. I'm assuming
you don't want him around because yours isn't fixed, either." The corners of his mouth
lifted.

Brie gave another, quick shake of her head. "I'm waiting for another golden retriever
to come of age to breed her. She's about three, and I'd like her to have a litter
of pups before I have her spayed."

His mouth opened, then shut again. He pulled his head back. "
Bred
? She doesn't have a say in it? That's rough."

Brie shook her head more dramatically, this time, and smiled just a bit. "Just keep
him out of my yard," she said as she headed down the drive.

Chapter 6

Brie's brothers and sister would arrive at seven thirty; guests would begin showing
up shortly after that. She stood in baggy, gray sweat pants and an oversized flannel
shirt. The clothes were a stark contrast to her finished makeup and hair piled high
on her head. Standing with arms crossed and legs locked, she stared at the folding
chairs that still stood stacked against her foyer wall as she mentally went over the
list of things yet to be done. Why, she wondered, hadn't she listened to her sister
and bought that family room furniture she needed—or dining, or sitting room furniture
either?

Oh, well, she thought, pulling nervously on an ear, and turned to head for the kitchen.
People liked to stand and talk at these things.

There would be a band and spirits downstairs. The main floor would be more for talk
and food. She needed her brothers to help her move the large oak table from the kitchen
nook to the dining room for the food that waited, neatly arranged on platters, in
the fridge and on counters. Candles were scattered and ready to be lit. Coolers of
soda and beer needed to be hauled from the deck, where they stayed cold, to the buckets
that were scattered around the house.

Rubbing her hand along the back of her neck, she realized it didn't matter. It would
never be the same. Never like it was when her parents were the host and hostess. Yet,
the same people would come. She took a slow, deep breath and straightened her shoulders,
listening as the sound of her house shoes changed slightly when she moved from the
foyer's hardwood to the kitchen's ceramic tile. It would be nice to catch up with
old acquaintances and visit with good friends, she convinced herself.

When the doorbell rang, she looked at the clock and glared. Six o'clock. Who would
dare? Liz didn't even have the nerve to come this early. She opened the door and stood
with brows tucked tightly together. Nathan Reed stood on her porch in black jeans
that matched the color of his slightly damp hair. Okay, so the unshaven look must
have been out of comfort rather than for appearance, as he was clean shaven tonight,
but what the hell was he doing here two full hours early?

The boys stood frozen, each holding a container covered in foil as Nathan walked past
her without so much as a polite
hello
, let alone waiting for an appropriate invitation. "Thought we would make up for the
muddy carpet and come by to help. Boys, you remember Miss Brie."

She found herself a little speechless as she moved out of his way. The boys followed
at his heels. "I'm sorry, Nathan, wait—stop! I said eight. You're... early."

He walked through to the kitchen. "I said we're here to help, not socialize. I have
great southern hospitality. I imagine anyone who waits until the day before Christmas
Eve to put up lights might also wait until the last minute to get ready for guests.
You have a nice home," he added, moving his eyes in a first-time-around glance. He
paused at the traditional lattice detail garnishing the corners of the entrance to
the dining room. "What did you do with all your furniture?"

The crooked smile softened her... a little. "There was a fire. Can I speak with you
privately?" She forced a grin as she tilted her head at the boys, still frozen, each
with their dish of food and bulging brown eyes. She squatted down in front of them.
"Duncan, Andy, I have new boxes of toys the clerk at the store said were the latest
thing. They're some kind of monster-type people with cars that match. I don't know
that much about them. Do you think I could take that food from you and maybe you could
get them out of the boxes and try them out for me? The children will have plenty to
play with tonight at Mr. Piper's, and I don't want to send over new toys if they aren't
any good. That could be very embarrassing."

"Yes, ma'am," Duncan said.

Nathan took their coats and hung them over the newel post of the staircase. He ran
his hand up the rail. "Walnut. It's what I'm planning to use on mine."

The boys wore nice jeans and shirts. Their hair was cut short and neat around their
ears and necks. They sat down on the carpet in the family room next to the boxes and
began tearing them open as she made her way to the kitchen.

She noted Nathan's sweater matched the blue of his eyes, making them all the more
striking. His hair waved slightly at the ends. "Listen, we could discuss the walnut
stairs at eight; I don't have time right now to entertain—"

Nathan opened the back doors. "We'll save that for later, then. It looks like you
have plenty on the deck that needs to be moved. Where to?" He walked back in carrying
the cooler that was filled with hard lemonade.

Brie tried to think of something catchy to say but simply pointed to the opening leading
downstairs.

When the drinks were settling on ice in wicker-covered metal buckets around the house,
they moved to transfer the kitchen table to the dining room. Talk centered mostly
on the boys and where they had lived. Every few minutes they would hear a loud, 'That's
not fair!' or noises that sounded surprisingly similar to loaded sports cars.

"When is the rest of your family coming?" she asked before she realized how that sounded.

"Rest of my family?" Nathan tilted his head toward the boys who were gleefully battling
scar-faced monsters driving Corvettes and Camaros.

"You made reference to your wife." Her eyes moved around thoughtfully. He said that,
hadn't he?

"I would not have made the reference, since there isn't one. I'm divorced."

"Yes, you did. You said your family was at your parents' home when I came to bring
your dog back to you."

The two of them centered the table under her traditional, crystal chandelier.

"The boys
were
at my folks and they
are
my family. You know, you wouldn't have to move your kitchen table if you had one
for your dining room."

"I told you, it was burned," she said quickly.

"I guess I thought you were being sarcastic. How did it happen?"

"That's a subject I don't have time for." She turned and started upstairs. "I need
to change."

She felt his fingers, rough and possessive, wrap around her arm. Gently, he turned
her around. He held on carefully when she tried to pull away.

As she looked into the blue, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to suddenly
lose someone you love."

Shaken, she felt exposed as she responded, "I never said I lost anyone."

Nathan released her arm and lifted his hand near her face. He paused as she watched
him before running the backs of his fingers down her cheek.

"True. I'm going to work on setting around your stack of folding chairs."

As she moved up the stairs, she laid the palm of her hand where his fingers had touched
her and swore she felt heat.

* * *

From her bedroom, Brie heard the front door shut and Liz's voice playfully threatening
her kids with bodily harm if they tracked their snowy feet through the house. She
touched up her makeup, tucked a few loose strands of hair back into place and decided
on her silver jumpsuit. She heard her sister's footsteps on the stairs and grinned
at the thought of the look on Liz's face when she'd walked into the house to find
a strange man and his two children setting up chairs and playing with action figures.