Her heart beating in a peaceful rhythm, Astrid got up from the box and walked across the room to peer out the window. She grinned as she breathed in the fresh air. It felt so delicious and clean, like it was cleansing all the muck from her soul with each breath. On a sudden whim, she hoisted up the window and climbed out over the sash onto the small deck perched precariously on the side of the building.
She braced her hands on the railing and breathed deeply. The air felt so fresh and clean. The roots of the carriage house were sunk deep into the earth. The house had stood for over two hundred years, giving a home to horses and buggies that would probably have been the pride and joy of the owners in the main house.
This place was about tradition, about stability, about a life that was plunked down on this spot and never dislodged. It was everything that had never been a part of her life, everything that had never been allowed into her existence.
And now it was hers.
For two weeks, but still, for two weeks, it was hers.
Surely, with fourteen days of this kind of life filling her, she would finally find her way to the peace she’d been struggling to find her whole life. This was the start. She knew it was.
For the first time since she was dumped into her life as the daughter of Rosie Monroe, Astrid had a chance to become the person she wanted to be.
Or at least, that’s what she was going to do with it.
This was her time.
*
Jason stood in Noah’s window, watching Astrid bask in the afternoon sun. She looked like a goddess, with her hair tumbling so wildly around her shoulders, and her bare toes peeking out from between the railing posts.
She was decadence and passion. Like magic that had flitted to earth for a brief moment, before disappearing into the heavens again. There were no chains on Astrid’s ankles, binding her to a life or an existence of burden. She exuded freedom and the need to go, to experience life, to invest herself so passionately in it.
He’d been blown away this morning when he’d seen her transformation, the gradual dawning of her realization that she could stop fighting and simply immerse herself in the gift he’d given her of a place to live. She was magical, the way she could transcend the emotions that had nearly destroyed her last night. He was in awe of how she could find her way to peace and optimism even when carrying burdens so great that they tore at her soul whenever she let her guard down.
As he watched her relishing the afternoon, he felt the weight on his soul dissipate, vanishing as if the earth itself had gently blown it away.
For two weeks, he had her all to himself.
Then he sobered. Two weeks was all he had with the woman who had no roots, a woman who was bound to no one and nothing. What happened when that time was up? How could he keep her? Or would she vanish in the middle of the night with his child?
What made Astrid so appealing was the fact that she was beholden to no one and adhered to no one else’s rules…and that, in some ways, exactly defined his former wife…with her refusal to play the role of wife or mother, even though she’d accepted those titles.
Jason’s energy faded, and he scowled. How could Astrid be the same as Kate? But she was, in some ways. She was an elusive wisp that would slither right out of his fingers, just like Kate. Just like Lucas.
His smile disappeared, and a weight settled on him. Son of a bitch. He was on the exact same path as the one that had destroyed him before. Falling for a woman who would not be there for him. Who didn’t want what he had to offer. He couldn’t go through that again.
But Kate had been cold. There had been no depth to her, nothing for him to grasp to bring her back. Astrid was different. She was pulsing with emotion and passion. There was so much to Astrid. He couldn’t lose her as well, and yet here he was, on the same path as before. Kate had left him emotionally, and Astrid could walk out physically.
Or she would try. He couldn’t allow it to happen. He couldn’t allow Astrid to shut him out the way Kate had.
This time, it was going to turn out differently.
*
Jason was beat.
He pulled his car into his driveway, tired as hell after another sixteen hours of manual labor on the cafe. It was almost one in the morning, and the place still looked like it had been upended by a front end loader and torn to shreds.
The new chairs were arriving tomorrow, supplies for his pizzas were coming on Friday, and his “Grand Opening July 4th” banner had been waiting for him when he’d gotten back from lunch. July 4th was less than a week away.
He shoved the gearshift into park and leaned his head back against the seat. A cold pizza sat on the seat beside him, uneaten even though he’d picked it up at Wright’s almost four hours ago. He hadn’t taken time to eat, and he was ravenous now.
He’d eat, take a twenty-minute nap and a shower, and then be back at work before two. He could lay the last six yards of floorboard by the time the wood guys arrived to refinish the cabinets and do the floor. Thankfully, Noah had already found a best friend at camp, and the boys were having a sleepover tonight.
Jason had taken advantage by working late on the cafe, but now that he was home and looking at his empty house, a deep sense of regret filled him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this up here, with Noah being taken care of by other people. It was supposed to be all about time for Noah, but Jason hadn’t counted on the cafe being in such bad shape. He’d had to invest a lot more money than he’d planned into refurbishing it. The money he’d had to put in had increased the urgency of getting the store open so that the cash could start flowing in the other direction.
Groaning, Jason rested his forearms on the steering wheel and stared at the massive house he’d bought for his son. Huge yard. Massive windows. Lakefront. His new boat was supposed to arrive this weekend. When was he going to get time to take it out? When was he going to take Noah up on his offer to hit some baseballs in the backyard? Or order a basketball hoop for the driveway?
Shit. He was beat. Which was the only way to live, his only chance at getting any sleep. It was what he was used to and how he’d operated in New York: burn himself out until sleep came. It was, however, exactly what he’d promised Noah would change when he got to Maine. “Shit!” Frustration rumbled through him, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I swear this will change, Noah. This is going to work. I promise you.”
With a groan, he hauled himself out of his car, noting the multitude of sawdust shavings on his luxurious seats. Sawdust. How many years had he lived in sawdust, helping out his dad with assorted home projects?
He’d intentionally left sawdust and pizza dough behind years ago, and now it was back? It was supposed to fix their life, but it wasn’t. It just wasn’t fucking helping.
Jason grabbed the pizza off the seat and kicked the door shut with his foot. He was just turning to go into the house when he saw a glow emanating from the carriage house. Astrid was still up? At this hour? In her condition?
Scowling, Jason headed toward her place, knowing he shouldn’t bother her. He was too tired to be polite, and the last thing he could afford to do was drive her away.
He was going anyway.
She was the one glow of hope in his damn life, and he needed a dose of her.
*
Astrid held up the bracelet and studied it in the light. It was the first piece of jewelry she’d ever designed for men, and she examined it with her usual critical eye. It was a black leather cord with a metal plate on it that was just a little wider and thicker than she ones she used for her regular designs. She’d stumbled across the larger plate when she’d been unpacking, and had stopped unpacking to play with it.
The engraving was bold and stark, with none of the artistic curls she usually used. There was one word blazed across the plaque: FIRE.
She didn’t know why she’d picked that word, but she’d had Jason in mind from the moment she’d seen the piece. Frowning, she studied it, her eyes bleary from spending hours engraving it by h
and. As she inspected the bracelet, her excitement began to fade.
There was something missing from it. The piece felt incomplete. Empty. Wasted. She didn’t know what exactly was wrong with it, but there was a distinct lack of urgency and passion in the item. It was simply flat and uninspired.
Just like all the other designs she’d tried over the last six months.
“Dammit,” she muttered, dropping it on her table. It landed with a small clink, and she leaned back, pressing her hands to her eyes. Why had she thought that moving into the carriage house and breathing in fresh air would suddenly bring her creativity back? If she didn’t start designing new pieces, or at least find the ability to craft the ones she’d already designed that were for sale on her website, she would soon be truly broke.
The one thing she enjoyed was her jewelry-making, and now she was failing utterly at it. She gritted her teeth as she stared at her inbox on her computer. There were so many orders waiting to be filled. And yet, as hard as she worked, she didn’t seem to be making any progress on filling them. She’d had to throw away so many pieces of jewelry because they hadn’t come out well enough to send to her clients. Orders were dwindling. Her reputation was falling. Dammit! How hard could it be to do that which she loved?
It shouldn’t be hard. It should be easy. But it wasn’t. Not anymore. Not even in this beautiful home with so much natural light and inspiration.
The problem hadn’t been with where she was living. It had been with her.
Frustrated, she pushed back from the table, then froze as she heard a light knock at the door. “Astrid? It’s Jason.”
Her heart began to race, and she went still, utterly quiet.
After helping unload all her belongings from the trucks, he’d taken off to work at the store. He’d been gone all day, leaving her alone to pretend that he didn’t exist. That the reality between them didn’t exist. But it did. He did.
Emma and Clare had both called to tell her how happy they were that she was staying in town, but the two women had been in Portland for the day on a girl bonding trip and hadn’t gotten back in time to stop by.
Which was fine with Astrid. She was restless and moody, not at peace the way she’d been when she’d first arrived. She knew it was because it wasn’t her place. She was staying here on Jason’s goodwill, which meant it was nothing more than a fragile ground that could shatter beneath her feet at any moment.
As beautiful as it was, she wished she were back in her studio apartment over the gas station, because at least that had been hers and no one could take it away…except they had. Even the security of that place had been an illusion. Paying her rent on time religiously hadn’t been enough to keep her home. What else was she supposed to do?
“Astrid?” He knocked again. “Are you up?”
She bit her lip, not wanting to deal with him.
There was a small thump, as if he’d tapped his fist against the door in frustration. “I have food.”
Food? Astrid’s stomach growled immediately, and she glanced over at her bare kitchen. She hadn’t felt like dealing with town, so she’d made do with the few staples that she’d packed from her old house. Food or privacy?
Food.
With a nervous sigh, she walked over to the door and opened it.
There, on her front step, was the man she’d been unable to get out of her mind all day, despite her best efforts.
And he was even better in person. Yes, his hair was disheveled and there was sawdust on his shoulder. His jeans were covered in paint and his boots were tracking sawdust. His eyes were dark and there was stubble on his jaw that made him look like a weary warrior stumbling home after a hard day in battle.
He was raw male. Total testosterone. And she responded to him exactly the same way as she had every time she’d seen him. With pure, unbridled longing and desire that reverberated through every cell of her body. She sighed. Why did he affect her so intensely? “What is it with you?”
He raised his brows, and propped his shoulder against the door jamb. “What exactly are you referring to? My boyish good looks? My rugged manly appeal? Or my sense of timing with food?”
Astrid’s stomach fluttered at the hint of weary humor in his voice. “Food. It’s all about the food,” she lied, not really wanting to launch into a detailed explanation about how he made her want to strip naked and throw herself at him.
“Then I’m here to deliver.” He raised the pizza. “It’s cold, but I hear you’ve got an oven. I haven’t figured out how to turn mine on yet, so I was hoping you had.”
She laughed and took the box, his lighthearted banter making her feel more at ease. “You’re such a guy. You can’t turn on your oven? Really?”
“I can’t find the damned thing,” he said. “Too many boxes still in the kitchen. There aren’t as many takeout options here as there are in New York, so Noah and I have been living on Wright’s pizza for the last month. We usually eat it cold, though I have recently located the microwave.” He walked inside and shut the door behind him, making himself at home in her space.
As she headed toward the kitchen, Astrid glanced over her shoulder at him. He seemed to fill the room with his strength and power, with the way he strode across the floor behind her and seemed to own the very space around him. He was so very male, in a place that was so female, with her colored scarves, throws and jewelry supplies.
She swallowed as she set the pizza on the stovetop and turned on the oven. She made herself busy getting the pizza out of the box and onto the tray to give herself a moment to regroup from her reaction to Jason. In a state so foreign to her, she felt awkward with him, not sure what to say, so she gave herself the excuse of the pizza.
But once it was in the oven, there was no more distraction.
She took a deep breath, and then turned to face the man who had turned her life so upside down.
Jason was leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms folded as he watched her. For a moment, she was startled with how close he was, and then she realized there was nowhere else for him to be in the room. She had no kitchen table, no couch, no chairs. Her old studio had barely been big enough for a bed, the dresser she’d found at the garage sale, and her design center.
Her belongings had felt full and complete in her old place, but in this place, her life felt woefully inadequate. She swallowed nervously. “Do you want a drink?”
“Sure. What do you have?”
She pressed her lips together, suddenly embarrassed. “Tap water. I haven’t gone shopping yet, and I used up everything when I thought I was going to move.”
One slow eyebrow went up. “Tap water is fine. Do you have glasses?”
“Of course I do.” She quickly turned and opened the cabinet to grab her glasses, but as she looked at them, suddenly she saw them for the first time. Four mismatched, scratched glasses, scavenged at the same garage sale that had provided her bedframe. They were beautifully engraved, full of interesting curves, which is why she’d loved them, but they were old and well-used. Suddenly she wished she had a set of beautiful, pristine matching glasses, ones that would be good enough for a wealthy doctor from New York.
She snuck a peek at Jason, and this time, she didn’t see the sawdust and the paint. She saw jeans that fit him perfectly, boots of high quality leather, and the sculpted cheekbones of a beautiful man. She thought of his luxurious, expensive car. Of the fact he’d been able to afford this amazing property even after walking away from his career and any steady source of income. How did she look to a man like him? How did her little world look to a man like him?
“I’ll take the one on the right,” Jason said, reaching past her to pluck her favorite glass off the shelf. He held it up, inspecting it. “This is incredibly cool. Are these hand blown? I’ve never seen designs like this.”
She swallowed. “I don’t know. I found them at a garage sale.”
“Yeah, I would bet you’d have to. I doubt anyone takes the time to make things this beautiful anymo
re.” He grabbed another one. “This one good for you?”
She stared at him, a warm feeling suffusing her as he filled their glasses. “You like the glasses?”
“Hell, yeah,” he said as he handed her one. “My mom used to collect glasses and plates,” he said. “Every single thing in our kitchen was one of a kind. Coffee cups, plates, silverware, you name it. She had an incredible knack for finding this stuff.” He ran his hand over the glass, turning it to watch the light refract. “I forgot how she used to do that,” he said. “It’s cool.”
A slow smile spread across Astrid’s face, and the tension eased from her. “My mom used to steal glasses from whatever man she was walking out on,” she said. “Not quite the same thing—” Oh…crap. Had she just said that aloud?
“Yeah?” Jason raised his eyebrows at her as he settled back against the counter, holding his glass loosely between his fingers. “Tell me about your mom.”
“Um, no.” She turned and walked away, sitting down on one of the smaller boxes that she was using for a seat. It was beside a larger box that had become her table. “So, the pizza will be ready in a couple minutes. How’s the cafe coming along?” She smiled at him, trying to give her most charming grin to distract him from asking any more questions about her mother.
Jason narrowed his eyes as he studied Astrid. She had such a wall around her, just like his former wife had. But he’d seen past Astrid’s defenses before. He knew there was more to her. There was softness, passion, vibrant energy and warmth. How did he get to it?
This woman, this mysterious, aloof woman was carrying his child. He had to know more. He had to find out what she was like, what he was facing with her.
He walked across the room and sat on another box. It sagged beneath his weight, but he didn’t get up. If Astrid wanted to sit on boxes, he’d sit on boxes. “The store is not going well,” he admitted, trying to get comfortable on the box that was sinking lower and lower beneath him. “It’s in bad shape, and I’m scheduled to open on the Fourth. I haven’t even found my recipes yet.”
Fairytale Not Required Page 11
