Bound to be Dirty (31 page)

She stepped down and found her footing.

He put his arm around her and urged her forward, steering her along a gravel path that inclined slightly upward. “Steps,” he said. “Going up. Four of them.”

Side by side, they mounted the steps. He turned her to face the way they'd come. “Close your eyes.” His fingers worked at the knot she'd tied in the blindfold, then the fabric fell away from her head. His arm came back around her shoulders. “Open your eyes, Lily.”

She obeyed, blinking against the sudden glare of sunshine and then focusing on a stunning view. Roughly grassed land dropped gently away in front of them, down to a wooded area. If there were houses below, the woods hid them, and she looked straight out at the ocean, choppy today, with sun sparkling off white caps. “Wow.”

“And look over there. See the stream?”

Her gaze followed his pointing finger to the right, where bare-branched trees meandered in a straggly line, and through them sunlight glinted off water.

“Imagine it in the spring,” he said. “Dogwoods in bloom, the stream burbling, the fields scattered with wildflowers. Sailboats out on the ocean.” He hugged her closer. “Total privacy, not a neighbor in sight.”

It was a view to fall in love with, for sure. But she knew that she stood on the porch of a house built for a childless couple. Still, she gave him the truth. “It's a wonderful view. I imagine it's lovely in all seasons.”

“Now come inside. You'll have to use your imagination.”

Imagine a life without children? Could she do that? If he intended to steamroll her and issue an ultimatum—him or having children—then no, she couldn't. If he opened his heart to her, though, and told her why he couldn't envision having kids and begged her to let their love be enough to fill her heart . . . What on earth would she do?

She squared her shoulders. First, she needed to know the truth. Maybe then, her heart would give her the answer.

She turned and saw the wooden-shaked front of the cottage from the real-estate listing. When Dax shoved the door open, it groaned.
My sentiment exactly.
Biting her lip, she stepped through.

The door opened into a small living room. Hideous dark fake wood paneling lined the walls, grotty orange shag carpet covered the floor, and the room was empty of furniture. A small fire crackled in an attractive old-brick fireplace. In front of the fire Dax had spread the rug they kept in the trunk of the car, and beside it sat a cooler and a shopping bag with a loaf of French bread sticking out. So that was where he'd been this morning: buying picnic food to bring here.

The scene in front of her was a combination of hideous and charming.

Her mouth dry, Lily forced herself to say, “Another picnic in front of a fire? You brought me a long way for this.” She faced Dax and gazed up at him. Now he had to tell her what was going on.

His gray eyes glowed silver with excitement. “I spent my spare time this week checking out properties.”

“You didn't tell me.” Yes, it sounded accusing, and that was how she felt.

“You were busy, interviewing the new office manager, working with your receptionist to figure out what kind of reports she could produce. Then you had your volunteer work yesterday. I didn't want to waste your time.”

“Dax, we're supposed to be sharing things. Discussing things.” Especially the one most critical decision: whether he wanted to have children.

His face fell. “I'm sorry. I just thought I'd narrow things down.”

Narrow things down to a single property that he was ready to make an offer on. Right. Pretending innocence, she said, “So today we're touring the places on your short list?”

“Only this one. I saw it yesterday and it seemed perfect.”

“Perfect,” she echoed flatly. A one-bedroom cottage was perfect?

“It's an hour's commute to your clinic by ferry and car, with a ferry every hour. There's also a seasonal water taxi for commuters. The property's two acres, beautiful land. When I saw the land, the view, I was sold.”

“Your own personal piece of wilderness.” She could understand what that meant to him. Even believe that it might be great to live here. To raise children here. She could imagine a little girl and boy running through the wildflowers, floating sticks in the stream, going to the beach with their friends. Except Dax's vision didn't include those children.

“Our piece.” He touched her cheek.

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the slight roughness of his calloused fingers against her skin, then broke away. “Show me the rest of it.” Realizing she was warm, she took off her coat and hung it on a doorknob. “That fire throws a lot of heat.”

He took off his jacket too, and tossed it on the floor. “The heat's been on for a while. I had the Realtor come in this morning to turn it and the water on, and to lay a fire so it'd be ready to light when we arrived.”

Dax had thought of everything. Except the one thing that really mattered to Lily.

He moved across the room to a doorway. “Kitchen's here. Nothing special but it has the basics. Nice view from the windows.”

She joined him and they stepped into a room that was empty of appliances and furniture. It had dingy green walls and tired beige-patterned linoleum. Two or three times the size of the condo's kitchen, there'd be space for a table and chairs by one window, possibly an island as well. The other window was above the sink. Both let in winter sunlight, making the room bright and almost cheerful. “With some polishing, it could be a pleasant room,” she admitted.

“It's better than the bathroom,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her along.

A short hall led from the living room, with what appeared to be a closet on one side and the bathroom on the other. She grimaced at the stained sink and toilet and the worn floor tile, shower tile, and wallpaper, all in different patterns. There was no bathtub.

“Not a room you'd want to linger in,” she said. No lovely soaks in the tub with a good book.

“The bedroom's better.”

It couldn't be worse
.

They walked a few more steps down the hall and entered a room about twelve feet by fourteen, with a long closet at one end. Room for a queen-sized bed, bedside tables, and a dresser—which was all you really needed. A bedroom was for sleeping, reading in bed, and sex.

Again, there were windows, providing lovely views and, today, sunshine. She could imagine her and Dax using this bedroom, making it attractive. Perhaps installing a glass sliding door to replace one of the windows. But there was only one bedroom. No room for children. “Dax.” She turned to him. Enough of wandering through this cottage, a little house that might, with some hard work and money, be comfortable for a childless couple. Time to resolve this, once and for all.

And, she realized, time to be honest. She was upset with Dax for not sharing the decisions he'd reached, much less his thought process. Instead of asking him, she'd pretended that she hadn't seen the offer, and nursed secret resentment. No wonder their relationship was so messed up. They had no idea how to be truly open and honest with each other.

A sense of calm seeped through her. “I can't go on like this. With neither of us being honest.”

He frowned. “I didn't mean to be dishonest. It was supposed to be a nice surprise.”

“Right.” Which only showed how out of sync they truly were.

His frown deepened. “What do you mean about you not being honest?”

Standing about two feet away, she studied him. So dashing and handsome in a lightweight black sweater, jeans, and boots, with his over-long black hair and sexy beard. Her husband. The husband she'd never really known and possibly never would. “I saw the offer.”

“Offer? What offer?”

“The one to buy this place.”

“Oh, shit.” He whacked his hand against his head. “So much for my surprise. Look, Lily, it's not like I meant to go ahead and buy it before you saw it and agreed. Both our names are on that offer, right? It's just, the place only came on the market this week. It's an amazing buy. It's an estate sale and the heirs need the money, so they're in a hurry to sell. The Realtor said the property market was slow over the holidays, but it picks up quickly in January. If we want it, we need to move quickly.” Though he sounded a little apologetic, mostly his tone was still excited.

“And you want it? This”—she gestured, meaning not just the sunny bedroom but the whole run-down place, the cottage that had no room for children—“this is what you want?”

“We've done a lot of talking about different ways we might live, ways that would work for both of us. This is close enough to Vancouver that we could commute, work three or four long days then have the rest of the time off. If we sell the condo, we'd easily be able to handle the mortgage. The Realtor says it's a good investment too. Not that I'm really thinking of it that way. I'm thinking it'd be our home.”

“Our home,” she said flatly.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighed. “Okay, I see you're not enthused. I hoped you'd see the potential.”

“Potential? You mean, like fixing up the kitchen and ripping up that horrible orange shag?”

“Well, yeah, for a start, but . . .” He shook his head. “Wait a minute. I haven't told you what I'm thinking, have I?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Dax, I haven't a clue what you're thinking.”

“Okay. Well, even though it's kind of grotty, I figured it'd at least be livable. The kitchen and bedroom wouldn't take much work. The bathroom's a whole other story, but we could live with it for a while. We'd work out a new floor plan, expand the living room, put in a proper big bathroom with a tub.”

“Oh.” In her experience, you bought a place you liked then furnished it. “You see it as a fixer-upper?”

“The alternative is to tear it down and start fresh, but I think the cottage suits the land.”

“Tear it down? Do major renovations? Dax, that would be incredibly expensive.”

“Not so much. You remember what I was doing when we met, right?”

Light dawned. “Construction.” It was so long ago and he'd changed so much, she'd almost forgotten.

“I can do most of the work myself and it'll save a lot of money, though it'll take some time. But in a couple of years, we could have a really nice house. We can come up with a design that lets us add whatever we need. Home office, more bedrooms, another bath, and—”

“More bedrooms?” she broke in. Her heart skipped a beat. Why would they need more bedrooms? Did he mean a guest room or . . .

“For”—he swallowed—“for kids, Lily. A couple, maybe three. I think this would be a great place to raise kids.”

“You, you . . .” Her body trembled with nerves. Oh God, if she misunderstood again, let herself hope again, the disappointment would destroy her. “You've changed your mind about having children?”

He frowned in apparent puzzlement. “Lily, sweetheart, I'd never have had an offer drawn up if I wasn't thinking this place could be home for you and me and our children.” He stepped forward and framed her face with his big hands.

“R-really?” Her heart was in her throat, making it hard to speak. Could she believe in this? “You do want to have children?”

“Yeah, I do.”

If she was to believe that he'd gone from a flat-out no at New Year's to truly wanting children, she needed more. “Tell me why you changed your mind.”

He swallowed. “I realized that, when you and I fell in love and got married, I . . .” Another swallow. “I held something back. The way things were with my parents, it made me wary of trusting that I really mattered to someone. That I deserved love. And you were so focused on your career . . .”

“I took you for granted and made you feel like you didn't matter to me? Oh Dax, of course my work's important to me, but I love you so much. I'm sorry I didn't show you just how much.”

“Your parents weren't exactly a good example. They're more like partners than spouses. The opposite of my folks, who were so dependent on each other that it was unhealthy. Anyhow, I guess I never totally trusted in us. I figured those dreams we spun when we were teenagers were foolish, and the best we'd share would be some good times together. I convinced myself it was enough, that I didn't want more. I told myself I'd be a crappy dad, that I didn't want kids. Like I said before, I assumed you'd chosen your career over having kids.”

“And now?” She knew her eyes must reveal all the hope in her heart.

“Now I'm tired of holding back. How can I achieve a dream if I don't totally commit to it, and throw myself into achieving it?”

“You can't.” She blinked back tears of hope. “I can't. Are you saying you're really ready to commit to us, and to making a family together?”

“That's what this is about.” He gestured to the sun-filled bedroom. “This place may not be the right one, but I wanted to act. To take steps forward to show you I'm committed.”

Dax, the man of action. It made total sense. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “When I saw the property listing,” she confessed softly, “I saw there was only one bedroom. I thought you'd decided you didn't want children and hadn't even told me.”

“Shit, Lily.” He stared into her eyes. “And yet you came with me?”

“I wanted to trust you. But I should have said something right away, not brooded.”

“At least you trusted me enough to give me a chance. And I guess I should have told you as soon as I realized I did want to have kids with you. I promised to do that, but I didn't.”

“We both still have some work to do.” Reality was sinking in. “You really mean it?” Her voice rose with excitement. “You want children with me? You're not just saying it to make me happy?”