Storming the Castle (Dale Series)

by Arianna Hart

  But, boy howdy, had he been worth ogling.

  “Did you make that quilt?” his deep voice came from behind her, causing her to jump.

  “Jeez, I didn’t hear you come up the stairs. No, I think it might have been my grandmother’s or a great-aunt’s. My folks have an attic filled with stuff other people don’t want anymore.”

  “It’s nice. Homey.”

  “I try. I’m sure you’re used to million-count sheets of Egyptian cotton and comforters a foot thick.”

  “One bed’s as good as another when you’re in a different hotel every night. I’ve slept better here than I have in years.”

  “It’s the quiet. When I moved here from Atlanta, I had a hard time getting used to the lack of noise. Now, I can’t imagine falling asleep to sirens and traffic instead of bull frogs and bird calls.”

  “You lived in Atlanta? You struck me as a tried and true country girl.”

  “I am. I grew up on a farm, but I went to UGA and lived above a bar in Atlanta.”

  “Which bar?”

  “Mad Murphy’s. I used to waitress there, too.”

  “Little place? Lots of classic rock memorabilia on the walls? Ceiling covered with bottle caps?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. You’ve been there?” she asked, surprised.

  “I was in a band as a teenager and we played there. Murphy was a roadie for some band and used to like to tell us stories of his days on tour.”

  “Oh God, yes. Over and over again. The same stories. His wife told me he’d only done it for a summer, but apparently, he had enough stories from that summer to last a lifetime. What band were you in?”

  “Just a crappy cover band, no one you’d have heard of.” His gaze flickered to the side.

  Faith practically felt a wall slam up between them. The trip down memory lane had just hit a speed bump. For some reason, he apparently didn’t want to talk about his past, so she let it go.

  “I’d better get the laundry started, or you’ll be waiting until midnight for clean clothes,” she said, gathering up the dirty linens. “Dinner is chili and cornbread. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Sounds great. Anything is better than sandwiches or scrambled eggs. I’ve had eggs so many times I think I’m going to start clucking.”

  “Get a list together of what you need from the grocery store, and I’ll pick it up tomorrow. We wouldn’t want you sprouting feathers.”

  “Thanks again.”

  “No problem. Here at Adams’ Hunting Lodge, we aim to please. I’ll see you around six.”

  She walked by him on her way to the stairs and her arm brushed against his bare chest. The contact was like an electric shock down to her toes. Her gaze flew to his and was ensnared by it. Time slowed, and the air thickened with tension. He was inches away, and she could see the light starburst pattern in his green eyes. His lips were full and so very close. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, the blood pounding in her ears.

  Just when she thought the sparks snapping between them couldn’t get any more unbearable, her cell phone rang, vibrating in her back pocket.

  “I need to get that. It could be Piper,” she said and hustled down the stairs.

  “See you tonight.”

  “Six o’clock.”

  Her knees were wobbly as she snatched up the laundry basket and headed out the door.

  Chapter Seven

  The delicious smell of simmering chili hit Sam as soon as he opened the door to Faith’s house. His mouth watered, and he followed his nose to the kitchen. Faith was chopping something at the counter.

  “If your chili tastes half as good as it smells, I’ll be eternally grateful,” he drawled, leaning against the open doorway.

  He was still shirtless, which was a little awkward. Remembering how the lawyer had recognized him, he tried to keep his tattoo out of sight. He didn’t know if Faith had heard of him, but there was no sense taking chances if he could avoid it.

  “I like it, but then again, I’m partial. Do you like it spicy? This version is pretty mild, but I can kick it up easily enough.”

  “I don’t want to set my tongue on fire, but I do like things hot.”

  “Okay. Just give me a minute to finish up this salad, and I’ll add some more chili powder to the pot.”

  A buzz sounded somewhere else in the house. “That’d be your first load in the dryer. I’ll grab you a shirt before I fold the rest.” She wiped her hands on a towel.

  “I can get it, if you tell me where the laundry room is.”

  “Don’t be silly, you’re a guest.”

  “I’d rather have you finishing up dinner so I can eat before I gnaw off my arm.”

  “Okay, sure. If you go back the way you came, take a left into the mudroom and the washer and dryer are there. If you put the rest of your clothes in the basket, I’ll fold them up while you eat.”

  He waited until she turned back to the counter before he followed her directions. He had no intention of eating alone, but he wasn’t going to argue about it until he had a shirt on.

  Since he was there anyway, he switched the load of wet clothes from the washer to the dryer. He’d been doing his own laundry since he was ten, so it wasn’t like he didn’t know what to do. Out of habit, he neatly folded his dry clothes, snagging a black T-shirt to put on just in case Faith decided to see what was taking him so long. The scent of warm cotton and whatever detergent she used was soothing. He inhaled the fragrance of another shirt before he folded it.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Faith asked.

  “Something about clothes right out of the dryer reminds me of my mom.”

  “For me, it’s the smell of clothes fresh off the clothesline. My folks never used the dryer. I know it’s more environmentally friendly and probably cheaper to hang the clothes out, but I don’t have the time to haul four sets of sheets back and forth every day.”

  “Who’d want to? I threw the other load in the dryer.”

  “You didn’t have to do that. You’re a guest.”

  “How about tonight, you forget I’m a guest and think of me as a friend coming over for dinner?” he asked, stepping closer to her.

  “I-I guess that’s okay.” A slight flush rode on her cheeks, and her eyes widened as he moved closer to her. He could see her pulse throbbing in her neck, echoing the pounding of his own heart. Heat flared between them, and he ached to touch her, to give in to the temptation that had been driving him for days.

  “Would you like a drink before dinner?” she asked, stepping away quickly. “I meant to get some beer, but I never got to the store.”

  “That’s fine. I’d prefer iced tea anyway.”

  “Tea, I have plenty of. Come on back to the kitchen. Piper and I usually take our meals in there.”

  He tried, really tried, not to stare at her butt as she walked to the kitchen, but it was impossible.

  “It’s sweet,” she said and leaned into the refrigerator.

  It sure is. He thought, hands itching to touch the denim-clad cheeks. He shot his gaze to a collage on the wall near the table before she finished turning around and could catch him staring. “Huh?” he said.

  “The tea, it’s sweet. If you aren’t from around here, you might not expect that.”

  “I was born in Columbus, Georgia. I know all about sweet tea.”

  “You don’t sound like a local. I never would have guessed you were from Georgia.”

  “My dad was in the military, so we moved around a lot. He was stationed in Fort Benning when I was born. Eventually, we circled back and I went to high school there, too.”

  “No wonder you keep things so organized. You’re used to moving around.”

  “Old habits die hard. I’m still moving around all the time. Although at least now I have a home base in Malibu.”

  “Really? I’ve always wanted to go to California.”

  She took a sip of her own tea and he bit back a groan as a drop of moisture fell off the glass and slipped down the valley between her
breasts.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but why on earth would you pay to spend two months here when you could be in your own house in Malibu?”

  Because I’ve never felt at home there.

  “I’m trying to keep a low profile. If I was at home, everyone would know how to find me, and I’d never get anything done.”

  “I understand that. But if you don’t mind me saying, you seem to have money to burn, and we’re not exactly five star. How’d you end up in Dale?”

  “My manager knew someone who knew someone who suggested your place. He figured no one would find me here.”

  “Well, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  He could see the curiosity burning in her eyes. He was sure she wanted to ask him who he was that he needed to hide out in this Podunk town to avoid people, but she held her tongue. That she respected his privacy was another reason he liked her. Whenever they bumped into each other, she asked him if he had everything he needed and if there was anything she could do for him, but she never pried. It meant a lot to him that she didn’t push where a lot of women would.

  “The chili should be ready now. Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll dish you up a bowl.”

  “As long as you’ll sit with me and have some, too. I’ve had enough of eating alone.”

  “That’d be nice.”

  He crossed the kitchen to the wide farm table and took a seat while she bustled about. The pictures in the collage caught his eye again, and he examined them closer. Most of them were of Piper, some as a baby, some taking toddling steps on chubby legs, one of her riding a bike, and one of her swinging on the swing set, hair flying out behind her and legs kicked high. There were a couple of Piper and Faith, and one of the two of them and an older couple. Then there was one of a young couple. The woman looked like a washed-out version of Faith in a long dress with short hair. She was standing next to a guy in a slick suit, and they were posed in front of an enormous display of flowers.

  “She’s always been so active. I thought for sure she’d kill herself going up and down the stairs before she could barely walk across the room,” Faith said, smiling at the pictures. “She’s constantly covered in bumps and bruises from going at life head on.”

  “I can tell. Are those your parents in that picture?”

  “Yup. They spoil her something fierce.”

  “And who’s that, there? Your sister?”

  Faith laughed out loud. “Oh heavens, no. That’s me and Piper’s father shortly before he died. He’d received an award and we went to a fancy dinner.”

  “Jesus, woman, eat a sandwich or something.”

  “Obviously, I don’t look like that anymore,” she said wryly.

  “Thank God.”

  He was going to ask why she’d starve away her curves, but something bumped against his leg. The bear/dog laid her enormous head in his lap and looked at him with pitiful eyes.

  “Ah, what does she want?” He hoped it wasn’t him.

  “Sadie! You know better than to beg at the table. Go lay down.” She waited until the dog had slunk off to its bed in the corner. “I’m sorry about that. She isn’t supposed to get table food, but I’m sure Piper and some of the guests slip her treats from time to time. She was probably hoping you were a soft touch.”

  “If it keeps her from biting my arm off, I’ll buy her a steak every night.”

  Faith laughed and shook her head. “Sadie’s fine once she acknowledges you as a friend. I couldn’t have a dangerous dog around the house with all the guests who come and go, but she’s very good at warning us if someone is coming. That’s a comfort when you live out in the woods.”

  “I bet. She looks vicious, and looks count for a lot. What type of dog is she anyway?”

  “She’s a mixed breed we picked up from a neighbor of my folks.”

  “A mix of what? Grizzly?”

  She laughed again. “No, I think German Shepard, Lab, and who knows what else. Farm dogs don’t come with pedigrees.”

  He thought about suggesting she put the dog outside so it would stop looking at him, but then he took a bite of chili and lost his train of thought. “This is incredible.” It was sweet and spicy and had just enough kick to heat up his mouth, but not so much that he was gulping water. “You should bottle this and sell it. You’d be rich.”

  “But then it would be work and wouldn’t be fun. I like puttering about in the kitchen, but I don’t want that to be my life. Besides, I don’t need to be rich to be happy.”

  “You keep saying stuff like that, but I like being able to get what I want when I want.”

  “I like doing what I’m doing. I get to meet interesting people, keep my daughter with me and not put her in daycare all day, and make ends meet. Most of the time.”

  “But you work your ass off.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. I’d rather be busy.”

  “If you say so.” He concentrated on eating instead of trying to change her mind. He didn’t know anyone who’d rather work for a living than live a life of luxury. Not that he didn’t work damn hard at his craft. Part of the reason he was such a mess was because he’d worked himself like a dog, but he wasn’t exactly digging ditches or taking care of a house full of people.

  The cornbread was still warm and had melted butter oozing down the sides. It was a great compliment to the chili, and for a while, he was so focused on the flavors mingling on his tongue he didn’t bother speaking.

  “So, what did you do after you graduated from college?” he asked, trying to remember what they were talking about before he started eating.

  “For a little while, I was a business manager for a hotel in Atlanta.”

  “Why’d you stop?”

  “My husband got a great job, and we moved to Buckhead. He didn’t want me driving back and forth to Atlanta, so I became a housewife.”

  He had no idea what to say to that. He knew Buckhead was an affluent suburb of Atlanta, but that was about it. Something about the way she talked about it, though, didn’t sound like she’d enjoyed it very much.

  “How’d you end up here from Buckhead?”

  “My husband died in a car accident when I was pregnant with Piper. I knew I was going to have to go back to work, and I wanted to find some way to keep her with me and not put her in daycare. This place was for sale and the price was right, so I bought it and Adam’s Hunting Lodge was born.”

  He debated asking her more about her husband, but it didn’t look like Faith wanted to go down that road, anyway, as she got up from the table with her bowl.

  “Have you had enough? There’s more left.”

  “I think I’ve had plenty, thanks.”

  “I’ll put the rest in a container, and you can take it back to the cottage with you for lunch tomorrow. Did you remember your shopping list?”

  “Ah no, but coffee is on the top of it.” The dryer beeped in the background.

  “Why don’t you write one out while I fold the rest of your clothes? That way, I’ll have it when I leave in the morning.” She moved to the counter where a yellow legal pad and pencil lay. “Here, I’ll be back in a little bit.”

  “’Kay.”

  He watched her walk out of the room and sighed. What was it about her that had him so stirred up? She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and she didn’t even act interested in him most of the time. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. It wasn’t just her body, either. He’d found himself watching her play with Piper and smiling as she laughed. A part of him longed to join them in the backyard instead of spying on them from a distance, but he’d held back.

  You’re here to work on your album, not seduce the landlady.

  He reached for the pad of paper to start his shopping list and accidentally knocked it to the floor. When he picked it up, he saw a rough sketch of a room. Very rough. He turned it sidewise, trying to figure out why there was a diseased tree with flies on one wall and a shower curtain in the corner.

  “And
what the hell is that?” he squinted at something that looked like a medieval torture device.

  “Oh, I’m going to re-do Piper’s room while she’s at my folks’. I was just trying to put my ideas on paper. I’m not very artistic.”

  He wisely didn’t agree with her, not out loud anyway. “What’s this?” He pointed to the shower curtain.

  “I want to have a reading nook for her in the corner of the room near the window. I made a canopy with some tulle and a wooden hoop. I want to hang it from the ceiling and put a beanbag chair and some colorful pillows there. And over here, I’ll put a desk so she’ll have a place to do homework.”

  “What’s this?”

  “I saw a picture on Pinterest of a mural of a tree with fairies. I can’t draw my way out of a paper bag, but I thought maybe I’d be able to find a wall sticker or something.”

  “How about this?” He pointed to the torture device.

  “Those are hooks. I got this wrought iron leaf decoration at a yard sale, and I was thinking I could work out a way to put hooks on it for her book bag and other things.”

  “And you’re going to do all of this before she comes back? I thought you were working on that cabin, too.”

  “I was just puttering there because I was missing Pip. Tomorrow, after I go grocery shopping, I’m going to start painting her room over. I’ve already stripped and sanded a bookshelf and desk.”

  “Sounds like a lot of work.”

  “It’s not that bad, and I like doing things with my hands. I’m not artistic, but I am handy around the house. But I’m sure you don’t care about redecorating a five-year-old’s room. I’ve got your clothes folded and set to go.”

  “Thanks, let me just write some things down.” Apparently, their night was over.

  “No problem. I’ll put the containers of chili in a bag so it’s easier to carry. And I’ll add an emergency supply of coffee to get through the morning, too.”

  “Bless you.” He jotted some items down on the pad while she moved about the kitchen. Her scent teased him. It was something light and citrusy. He was tempted to add condoms to his shopping list, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate that. Maybe he’d make a run into town himself if things headed in that direction.