Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  Justin would never believe that yesterday this dresser had been the wobbly pink and black mess she’d hauled from the warehouse. When her furniture was finished, most people couldn’t imagine the original state of the piece, even when it was pointed out to them. They only saw the surface, like Justin saw her.

  Dropping the rag, she pinched the bridge of her nose, reminding herself that she didn’t need Justin or anyone else to approve of her, or her work. The desk was a beauty and that was enough, so why was she disappointed that he couldn’t see the transition? Not only in her but in the furniture she was working so hard to recreate.

  He hadn’t liked or wanted the furniture at first, and he wouldn’t want her now either, not since he knew where she’d come from. He hadn’t seen beauty or promise in the old dirty furniture, and she was no different. She wasn’t like the other people he knew; she was a cast-off. Her people were trash.

  Sighing, she bent to collect the rags and pop the lid of the wax can in place. As she straightened, her arms full of rags and cans, Winnie pulled up behind the warehouse.

  This must be important; Winnie didn’t like to drive. Tara had to smile at the sight of the old woman practically peering through the steering wheel, to see over the dash.

  Stacking the paint supplies on the floor inside the warehouse, Tara turned to cross the parking lot.

  Winnie’s car window whirred down as the younger woman ambled toward her. The air conditioner in the car ground out a cool stream of air, ruffling the edges of her blouse. “I see you’re still not answering your phone.”

  Tara shrugged.

  “It’s been a week. You’d think…” Winnie perused Tara from head to foot, as if she didn’t know what was ailing the girl. Finally, she spoke. “A package came for you, and it looks important.” She held out a thick manila envelope with a DC return address.

  Tara tucked it under her arm. “Thanks.”

  “Well, are you going to look at it, dear? I didn’t drive all the way out here for my health.”

  The two stubborn women regarded each other. “Okay, whatever.”

  Tara cut open the envelope cleanly with her pocketknife and pulled out a sheaf of folded blueprints. A typed letter fluttered to the ground and she bent to pick it up.

  Elliott Reynolds

  Reynolds and Brayer Architecture LLC

  Dear Ms. Thornberry,

  Per the request of Justin Taylor, please see enclosed a copy of conception drawings for the Vanderworth resort.

  Please don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions or concerns.

  Sincerely,

  Elliott Reynolds

  Owner, Licensed Architect

  Fire lit her eyes and her mouth gaped open. “Of all the unmitigated gall!”

  “What is it? Not bad news, I hope.”

  Tara didn’t answer as she shook out the drawings and spread them across the hood of Winnie’s car.

  Winnie leaned out the window, squinting into the sun. “I think maybe you’ve been working too hard, dear. Why don’t you come home for a while and cool off?”

  Sheet after sheet of drawings flew up and back onto the hood as Tara scanned each page. When she reached the last drawing, she bent them in half and shoved them under her arm. “I’ve got to talk to Justin,” she called over her shoulder as she strode toward her truck.

  “Be nice!” Winnie called, with a solemn shake of her head.

  * * *

  The floor sander whirled heavily in large circles. Justin’s upper arms ached as he struggled to control the machine, forcing it in an even pattern across the hardwood floor of his kitchen. Thinking he’d heard a noise, he glanced over his shoulder and was shocked to find Tara standing in the kitchen doorway, waving a set of blueprints.

  He flipped off the machine and turned to her, rubbing his arms and clenching and unclenching his fists, in an attempt, to relax his throbbing muscles.

  With her eyes bright and prints waving, she shouted, “…and Winnie brought me this!” Her last few words hung awkward and loud in the air between them.

  She didn’t continue so he could only guess she thought he understood. He reached for the water bottle on the counter and gulped, buying time. Finally, he plopped the bottle back onto the counter and wiped his sleeve across his forehead. “What’s your problem?”

  Startled by his uncharacteristically harsh greeting, Tara was taken aback. “I said, I was working on the furniture and Winnie brought these by.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  They both waited for the other to break the thorny silence between them.

  “I can’t believe you had new plans drawn up.” she began.

  He cocked his hip against the wall, his expression flat. “And why is that?”

  She swallowed once, then again. “I thought we’d talk about it first.”

  His lip curled and he snorted. “Well, funny thing is, talking would involve answering the door or the phone, and you didn’t seem capable of either.”

  She retreated another step. Her lips moved but nothing came out.

  He wiped his arm across his forehead again. “Did you even check your messages?”

  She stared at the floor. One shoulder shrugged. “No.”

  “Well hell partner, if you had, you’d know that we are supposed to meet with Muffy and Denny in two days.” He tossed one hand in the air. “Two days!” He stared at the half-sanded floor, then met her eye. “So, I take it you were banking on me caving. Backing out, is that it?”

  Her head snapped up. “No—I…”

  “Why did you come running over here then, if not to yell at me for messing up your resort?” His eyes snapped bitter sparks.

  “I—” She cleared her throat. “I was surprised that you changed your whole design.” Her eyes fell and she took another step back. Her arm brushed the wall, startling her, and the blueprints shuffled to the sawdust-covered floor. She scrambled to her knees, gathering the pages with frantic haste.

  He bent to help and as he handed her the last page, their eyes met-- his bright with anger, hers shimmering with tears.

  He shot to his feet in surprise.

  She stayed on her knees, clutching the jumbled documents in her lap, her eyes downcast, and her voice a whisper. “It’s beautiful, Justin. These drawings, I mean.” She turned around the top page and smoothed it against her legs, the other drawings sifting back onto the floor. One fingertip touched the paper, to trace the roof outline of the stately wood-shingle-clad house, with two wings added to either side, nine-pane windows, roof dormers, and a long porch sprawling across the front. “I’m sorry. I really…” Her voice broke.

  He lurched forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. The drawing fluttered and fell between them.

  She turned her face away, and he gave her a gentle shake to get her attention. “Look at me, Tara.”

  She shrugged and sniffed.

  “I’m going to stand here until you look at me.”

  She glanced up tentatively through her lashes, then back to the floor.

  He dropped her arm and took a step back, gesturing with his hands. “This is business Tara. We are professionals.”

  She shrugged.

  “Okay! Okay. Look, you’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m not—” He scrubbed his hands across the top of his head. “I’m not to touch you. And that’s fine. But I can’t let this deal go. I need it. I’ve spent most of my savings to get set up, and I need to succeed. It’s not an option for me to quit.”

  She raised her chin and wiped the back of her hand under her nose.

  Justin turned away, shook his head, and gulped more water from the bottle. Finally, he swung back to her. “Are you even going to be able to work with me?”

  Her chin jutted out and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I promise to pull myself together and be a professional. I apologize for—”

  He waved his hand at her. “No, it was my fault. I crossed the line. You kept telling me, but I was an
idiot.”

  She reached for him, trying to refute but he wouldn’t have it.

  He pointed his index finger in her face, and she froze. His eyes serious, he spoke low and steady. “Tara, I’m sorry I scared you.” His finger wagged. “That was never my intent.”

  She opened her mouth, and his finger came back up as he continued. “Winnie filled me in on a few things, and I realized I had been acting like an ass. I had no right to touch you, or kiss you, or to assume you wanted anything from me. I was out of line. It won’t happen again.”

  She stared at him, swallowing hard.

  He dropped his hand in surrender, and with a frown, turned to stride out the back door.

  Tears shimmered hot in Tara’s eyes. She turned her back to hide the devastating disappointment, embarrassment, and misery that threatened to break her heart. Slowly she collected the drawing and let herself out.

  Chapter Twenty

  Outside the massive hanger door, heat waves wafted up from the pavement. Justin scrubbed his hand across his scalp and checked his watch as he paced the length of the hanger. The pilot ambled in circles around Denny’s private jet with his clipboard, making tick marks on his checklist.

  Will Tara show up? If she does, will she speak to me? Does she have anything put together for the meeting? Will she argue about the design?

  Thank goodness they would have an hour on the plane to get their act together, or they would look like idiots. How would he survive working with a woman who was so unpredictable?

  Just being in the same room with Tara made him crazy. He wanted to smack her, ignore her, and kiss her until he couldn’t breathe. The signals she emitted were conflicting to the point of madness – his madness.

  Tara’s truck approached and he hissed out a pent-up breath. Moving forward, he paused, then took a step back. He didn’t even know how to greet her! How should he handle someone so delicate?

  He grimaced, recalling their last conversation in his kitchen. After being tormented for days by visions of her abuse, he had still wrenched her up from the floor wanting to shake her. He wasn’t a violent man, but he had a temper, and Tara brought it churning to the surface, quicker than any woman he’d known.

  He was obviously the wrong man for her. She needed someone quiet and reserved, who never raised his voice – a less passionate man, who wouldn’t scare her witless.

  The driver’s door of the truck opened, and a shapely leg stretched to the ground. The rest of Tara was collecting items from the passenger seat, but the leg held Justin’s attention, like a snake writhing from a charmer’s basket. The wedge ankle-wrap sandal crisscrossing up her ankle riveted his interest until the breeze fluttered the silky fabric of her skirt against her thigh. The dress slid farther up as Tara twisted, causing his pulse to staccato against his stiff, white collar.

  She turned, her arms full of bags and a fringed wrap, and dropped from the truck. The breeze whispering past the hanger pressed the glossy print dress into the curves of her body. Her hair lifted and teased as it was carried away from her face. The combination of her streaming hair, flowing dress, and sparkling jewelry reminded Justin of an exotic gypsy.

  His fingers twitched, feeling the silken fabric over her slender waist. His lips parted, remembering the scent of her neck, the pulse point below her jaw.

  Her gaze searching, Tara found Justin and nodded a greeting. As she turned to enter the hanger, the breeze lifted the silky dress and her hair blew across her face, partially concealing the frown darkening her expression.

  Justin flinched, as if her stormy reception had struck him physically. Back to business. buddy, this is all about the resort, not Tara.

  * * *

  Tara tossed her head in an attempt to free the hair blowing in her face. Swapping her wrap to her other hand, she pushed at her skirt to keep it from billowing around her waist.

  Justin stood, cool and collected in the hanger, an expression of irritation marring his handsome face. His city boy hair and suit, spotless and crisp, emanated casual yet powerful perfection.

  She knew she was a few minutes late, but his annoyance had shattered the resolve she’d collected as she drove to the airstrip. He was constantly disappointed in her, and she hated the wretched feeling it gave her. Since Winnie had told him about her past, the only emotion she’d felt from him was disgust.

  Her confusion and sadness had been dissolving through the last few solitary days, but it slammed back into her chest now, knocking the wind from her sails. How could she possibly crave his touch, yet flinch when he held her? Why did she long to please him but could never manage to find admiration in his eyes?

  Forcing herself to stride toward him, she gathered bits of her shattered determination to concentrate on the resort. Once she’d seen Justin’s drawings for the buildings, she had pushed aside her concerns for the property and concentrated on creating the desired vibe for the interior of the resort. She’d sanded and painted for days straight, sometimes well into the night, pouring her heart and soul into her work.

  She hadn’t spoken to Justin since that day in the kitchen, but she’d texted him that she would focus on the interiors if he wanted to head up construction. He’d replied in agreement, but she knew texts were not professional. She needed to be calm and concise and move forward with the resort and stop getting tangled in the nuances of the man.

  Stopping several feet from him, she nodded once. “Justin.”

  With his hands in his pockets, he stared at her for several long seconds, then nodded back. “I’m glad you made it.”

  “As if I’d miss this.” She pushed past him, tossing him a glare.

  He observed her stiff back as she passed, his gaze dropping to the undulating silk gliding across her rear.

  * * *

  The seat flopped all the way back when Tara adjusted the handle, leaving her to stare at the ceiling of the plane. Grasping the handle and giving it a sharp tug, she leaned forward, and the seat back swung up to whap her in the head.

  Justin watched her struggle, laughter rumbling in his chest. She wore irritation well, he decided. But then, annoyance did cross her face more often than any other emotion.

  One eyebrow hitched at the realization. It was true, he thought, whenever they had met, she usually expressed frustration-- followed immediately by embarrassment and sadness. In his heart, he knew she probably wasn’t exasperated in general. Most of her aggravation the last few weeks had been a direct result of his arrival. He frowned.

  Tara glanced across the aisle. “Do you think Denny will like the design drawings?”

  He shifted in his seat to turn toward her. “I suppose. It’s not like my other resorts, but it’s good. The cottage design will please Muffy, I’m solid on that.”

  “How did the numbers come out? I mean as far as remodel versus tear down and new builds?”

  “I’m pretty sure you know that numbers can be twisted, but to offset the remodel, we can use the funds I’d reserved for demolition and haul-away, as well as new supplies.

  “How would you have twisted the numbers? I’m curious.”

  He smirked. “High-end finishes, extensive landscaping; there are a million ways to toss out funds.”

  She nodded. “I’m comfortable with the prints, and I know you will supervise the builds, but will you be happy with me handling the interiors?”

  His expression lightened and he glanced to one side. “Well, I’m going to try.”

  His gaze came back to hers and she held it, her expression serious. “I’m not going to screw this up.”

  Her eyes sparked and he tumbled into their depths, surrounding himself with her warmth and conviction. “I bel—” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I believe you,” he whispered.

  She nodded once, breaking the connection, then leaned back into her seat and stared toward the front of the cabin.

  * * *

  Clicking the restroom door closed, Tara leaned against the wall and raised her eyes to the ceiling. Her fo
rehead wrinkled. “A vaulted ceiling in an airplane bathroom?”

  Shaking off the surreal aspect of private jets, she leaned into the mirror to inspect her makeup for smudges. She wasn’t all that concerned about her face; she’d just needed a moment to herself. Justin had been staring at her and frowning most of the flight. She felt somehow violated, as if he saw far too much. But she knew this feeling. Everyone she’d known growing up had stared at her that way. She was his daughter.

  She hadn’t given up though, and through hard work, she had earned respect. Becky and Winnie, everyone in town, respected her because she saved things. They had stepped up to save her when she was little, and it was her place to pay them back by saving what she could. She’d started with furniture, then moved on to homes and community buildings.

  Justin would see, she’d do well on this project and he’d see her differently too. Instead of seeing a dirty child no one wanted, a burden, he’d see her ability to build amazing things from nothing. Then he’d smile at her and nod in appreciation.

  She smoothed the front of her dress in the mirror, turning sideways to check her profile. Today would go well, she told herself, and the resort would be a huge success. Then maybe he’d be happy and accept her.

  In her heart, she knew that he might accept her as a professional, but he’d never want her in his arms again. That was the way it worked.

  Straightening her shoulders, she stared at her reflection. She was who she was, and she’d do the best she could, even if her heart was broken.

  * * *

  When she returned from the restroom, Justin noticed that composure had settled over her. With his expression grim, he nodded inwardly in affirmation. The very minute he had disengaged and returned the stolidity she wore to protect herself from louts like him, she had relaxed. Confidence shone from her eyes.