by Skye Taylor
His eyes, when she finally looked at him, glimmered with emotions she couldn’t read. She returned the pressure of his fingers for a moment before he let her go.
When supper was done, Bree told Sam it was time to get into his pajamas. He informed her he could do it by himself and made his way down the hall, the soft thumps of his crutches fading away to nothing.
“You—you don’t have to stay.” Bree turned to Will. “I’ll clean up.”
“I don’t mind helping.” He got up from the table and moved toward her.
“You’ve already done so much. I can’t begin to thank you.”
“You don’t have to.” His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “I enjoyed my day. Sam’s a fun kid. By the way, he did all the homework his teacher sent, too.”
When Will grasped her upper arms, the heat from his hands sent waves of desire crashing through her, and she wanted to just walk the rest of the way into his embrace. But after last night and her embarrassing behavior, she turned away and began running the water to rinse the dishes.
“I especially enjoyed having supper together.” Will stood directly behind her but didn’t touch her.
“Me, too,” she agreed, afraid to turn around. Afraid of what she might do if she did.
“Well.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll go say good night to Sam and get out of your hair.”
She didn’t even hear him move away, but when she finally turned around, he was gone. She felt oddly bereft. She strained to hear anything from the direction of Sam’s room, but the soft murmur of voices didn’t carry. The next thing she heard was the quiet click of the front door shutting.
Her shoulders slumped. The feeling of loss was huge. They were still just friends regardless of the obvious and mutual arousal of the night before. He’d dismissed her confession of desire as nothing more than exhaustion and worry. He was a guy. Maybe desire for an attractive woman was normal even if there was nothing in the way of emotional commitment.
She argued with herself the entire time she rinsed and washed and put away leftovers. She didn’t want to get hurt, so she was better off not getting any more involved than she already was. But it hurt that he’d spurned her. It hurt that he’d left without saying good night. It hurt that she didn’t even know her own heart.
Maybe Will was right, that she didn’t want him for the right reasons. How had he put it? When you want me for me, then ask.
Chapter 21
ON HIS WAY HOME from work, Will detoured through the center of Tide’s Way and passed the assisted living center where Jake’s mother-in-law now lived. He turned right onto the recently paved street where new homes were being built by one of his brother’s competitors. The sign, erected since his last stop here, said Calhoun Drive. The first two homes were nearly completed, and both had Sold signs slapped across the For Sale signs still prominently displayed on the as yet unlandscaped lots.
Will slowed the motorcycle and put his foot out as he rounded the turn at the end of the short street and turned into the dirt driveway of the house he coveted. He’d been planning to bring Bree out to see it the afternoon of the big manhunt. He’d wanted to just show it to her without comment and see her reaction.
It would be months before the house was ready for occupancy, but the spaces inside had begun to take shape, and he liked the way they felt. Like his parents’ home on the island, the floor plan was very open, with views of the waterway from the first floor and the ocean from the second. Framing for a wraparound porch had been put in with temporary sheets of old plywood for decking. It would be the kind of porch he wanted to spend time on. A swing on the corner under the overhanging upper deck on one end. A row of comfortable chairs suitable for reading the Sunday paper or just watching the sun rise. Perhaps even a rocking chair for his mother because as soon as there were babies to rock, she’d be visiting often.
He parked his bike and strode up the plank that led to the front entrance. No doors yet either, so he walked right in to check on the progress the builders had made. He pounded on an exposed beam here and there, not sure why he did so, but it seemed like the thing to do.
Since his last visit, the fieldstone fireplace had been completed all the way up to the stringers of the first floor ceiling. The place where the staircase would be ran clear up to the rafters, and a skylight spanned the opening. Will climbed the ladder that was currently the only way to reach the second story. The hall subfloor ran around the stair opening, and four bedrooms opened off it. He walked through them one at a time, imagining the way it might look when he lived here.
This could be Sam’s room with a window seat he could curl up to read on. Next came the baby’s room. He’d have to wait to paint this room until he knew if it should be pink or blue. An extra room for a growing family. Hopefully there would be more than just one baby.
The last room was the master bedroom: the room with a view all the way to the ocean. He loved it. He crossed to the wide French doors, pushed one side open, and stood with his back to the room, staring out at the sea. He thought about Brianna Reagan.
Something seemed to have changed for Bree. He sensed it whenever they were close but couldn’t quite define it. It was as if she was on the verge of telling him something important, but wasn’t quite sure where to begin. She no longer kept her distance, and she hadn’t used the word friend in a while.
Since the night of Sam’s accident, she hadn’t made any further physical overtures, and he was still waiting for her to make the first move. But things had changed just enough to give him hope. Not just hope, but the certainty that if he could just be patient for once in his life, things would turn out the way he wanted them to.
He’d stopped at the real estate office that afternoon and made a deposit on this house. Although the original plans had not called for a garage, he’d paid to have drawings made up for that as well as a tree fort for Sam. He’d also added an alcove to the downstairs that would have bookshelves on all three walls to hold the piles of books Bree had stashed everywhere in her apartment with room to spare for future additions to her library.
He didn’t know what else she might like, but the house was still early enough in construction for her to add things. Or change anything she didn’t care for.
Funding the house was not a problem. Other than his many toys, he’d lived pretty frugally most of his adult life. His student loans had been paid off a long time ago, and since then, he’d been investing any income he didn’t need for living expenses. The old man in Wilmington hadn’t charged the full rental value in return for Will taking care of maintenance, so even his expenses had been small.
Will turned back to the master bedroom. How would Bree decorate this space? He liked her taste. At least he liked the way she’d furnished and decorated her apartment. He’d be happy with anything she chose. So long as they were doing it together.
If she turned him down, he’d still move in when the house was completed, but it would seem awfully empty without her and Sam to bring it to life. Without the prospect of a new baby to occupy that pink or blue nursery.
Maybe Bree wouldn’t want more children. That thought hadn’t occurred to him before. Will retraced his steps to the small room. It could become a guest room. But he hoped not. He wanted a child of his own. Or two or three. Children he would plant inside her and watch grow, knowing they were his. He wanted to be there when they were born and hear little voices calling, “Daddy.”
Maybe it was all a pipe dream, but he was going to do everything in his power to make it a reality.
The captain had called him into the office first thing this morning and offered him the coveted opportunity to join the new Rapid Response Team. Will had turned it down. The captain tried to talk him out of the decision, but Will had made up his mind.
Bree didn’t need a man who was more likely than the average guy to get killed on the job. If
they were going to make a life together, have kids together, he needed to make serious changes in his life.
The Highway Patrol was his life. Up to now it had been his whole life. But that, hopefully, was about to change. Another position had opened up in the Wilmington barracks for a negotiator, the man who shows up and, from a safe and protected distance, talks dangerous people out of committing mayhem. He wouldn’t be riding a motorcycle anymore after next month. He wouldn’t be patrolling highways. When he wasn’t called on for the specialty of his position, he’d be working a desk at headquarters, writing reports and doing research for the guys in the field.
A month ago, this decision would have appalled him. How quickly a man could make an entire one-eighty turn in his life. Diaz would never give it a rest. Will laughed at himself and turned to climb back down the ladder to the first floor.
He inspected the stonework. The mason was brilliant. Will loved the raised hearth design and could already imagine chilly winter nights spent with a fire crackling in the grate.
He wanted to bring Brianna here to see what she thought. Maybe then he’d go pick out a ring.
“BUT, MOM. YOU promised,” Sam wailed in protest.
“That was before you broke your ankle and ended up on crutches. A houseful of boys running around might be a bad place for you right now. You might get knocked over.”
“But it’s Rick’s birthday. Everyone will be there and I won’t. It’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair sometimes.” Life certainly hadn’t turned out the way Bree had seen it unfolding back when Sam was born.
“But I have to go,” Sam insisted. “Pleeeeease.”
“We’re going over with Will for the cake and ice cream and to watch Rick open his presents. Then we’ll come home.”
“But I want to sleep over with everyone else,” Sam whined. “I packed my bag already,” he added as if this clinched his argument.
A soft rap on the door stopped Sam’s entreaty, and he hobbled to the door before Bree could get off the sofa.
“Tell Mom I gotta stay for the sleepover,” Sam greeted Will without ceremony.
Will glanced over Sam’s head to Bree with his eyebrows raised. “Why the change in plans?” He stepped inside and set his gift on the table by the door.
“I just thought it might be better if Sam didn’t stay overnight. He could get hurt, and I wouldn’t be there.”
Will turned to Sam. “Where’s your stuff, sport?”
“In my bedroom.”
“Then go get it. And don’t forget the crutches.”
Sam half-hopped, half-walked toward his room. Will turned back to Bree.
“Ben and Meg will be there. Nothing’s likely to happen anyway, but if it did, they can handle it. And they’ll call if Sam needs you.”
“But—”
Will put a hand behind her neck and pulled her forward until his forehead rested against hers. “He’ll be fine. Besides, you still have a mystery trip you haven’t taken yet.”
Bree pulled away and looked up into Will’s mischievous blue eyes. “I thought you forgot.” She had. At first. Wherever Will had planned to take her the day of the shooting and resulting manhunt had fallen off Bree’s radar while she’d been blaming him for worrying her and Sam for all those hours he’d failed to call and reassure her. Then she’d been busy chastising herself for caring enough to be upset in the first place.
All that had changed in the aftermath of Sam’s escapade, but Will hadn’t mentioned it until now, so she’d figured it was no big deal. Maybe just a fun excuse to spend an afternoon with her.
“But we’re all going to Rick’s party.” The protest was a token. Being with Will had taken on a whole new urgency.
“We get to leave early and let Meg and Ben ride herd on the boys.” Will tilted his head to the side and swooped in to kiss her on the mouth.
His kiss was brief but startling in its intensity. Even the blue of his eyes was more intense as he drew back, his face suddenly very sober.
“I’ve packed us a picnic supper, and I’ve got a very special place I want to show you.”
“The beach?” Bree breathed. The beach was a dangerous place to be with Will. Especially alone. At dusk. At a time when emotion and need could so easily overtake common sense.
He shook his head. “Not this time.”
The letdown hit her unexpectedly. Deep down, she’d wanted to be in such a place. At a time when Will wouldn’t blame gratitude for the other things she felt when he touched her.
I am a total mess. One minute I tell the guy to get lost. Then I can’t wait to be alone with him. It’s a wonder he even bothers with me. Her heart raced in expectation.
“I can’t carry everything at once,” Sam announced as he tapped his way back up the hall. His duffle bag bounced against his good leg. “The box is too big.”
“I’ll get it.” Will strode toward Sam’s room.
“I’m staying for the sleepover.” Sam glowered at Bree.
“That’s not how you ask, sport,” Will said as he returned to the living room, the birthday gift tucked under one arm.
“But she promised.” Sam twisted to face Will.
“That’s not how you ask,” Will repeated.
Sam sighed as if being asked to rake all the leaves in the entire complex. He turned back to Bree. “Please, may I stay for the sleepover?”
“Yes. You may stay.” She was inordinately pleased that Will had waited to voice his different point of view until Sam was not present and then backed her up over Sam’s manners. For the first time in a very, very, long time, she felt as if she wasn’t totally alone bringing up her son. Whatever came of her evolving relationship with Will, for now the feeling was pretty nice.
Sam came and hugged her hard about the waist, dropping one crutch in the process. She bent and handed it back to him. “Just be careful. Okay?”
“I will, Mom. I promise.”
Chapter 22
WHEN WILL HELD the door for Bree, then closed it behind her and walked around to the driver’s side of his Jeep, anxiety abruptly settled into his chest. Suddenly he wasn’t sure about showing her the house before he declared himself. It seemed to make perfect sense before. But what if she felt like he was pressuring her into something?
Maybe he wouldn’t tell her about wanting to fill the house with babies or even that he wanted her to share it with him. Maybe he should just show her the house and see if she liked it. Then decide what to do about revealing his heart to her later.
Maybe he needed to give her more time now that she’d stopped pushing him away at every turn. Time for the fiery attraction that boiled up whenever he held her to work its magic. If they were lovers first, maybe accepting him as her husband would just feel right. It wasn’t too late to reconsider his career options, but he didn’t really want to. So, he could give her as much time as she needed.
He climbed in the driver’s seat and started the Jeep. “Ready?”
Her smile was tentative. “Am I going to like your surprise?”
“I hope so.” God, did he hope so. He didn’t recall being this nervous since he’d pinned a corsage on the girl he’d taken to his junior prom and nearly stabbed her in the process.
Bree pulled her feet up onto the seat and hugged her knees against her chest. Her gaze seemed to be anywhere but on him as they drove down Stewart Road, turned right onto Jolee, then veered left onto Shoreline.
“I’m glad we finally managed to tear ourselves away. Any later, and it would have been too dark,” Will said as they approached their destination. He slowed to turn into Calhoun Drive. As the Jeep left the pavement and bumped down onto the dirt driveway of number eighteen, Bree did look at him, her brow furrowed.
“You want to show me a half-built house?”
“You
’ll see. Come on.” He got out and hurried around to open her door. He took her hand and led her up the packed dirt path. Fortunately, the plank had been replaced with real stairs. The front door had been hung as well—a beautiful rich mahogany door with a moon-shaped window at the top. He opened the unlocked door and led her inside.
“They don’t mind you wandering around a construction site?”
He shook his head. “Apparently not.” Considering he was soon to be the owner of the place.
“Does this belong to someone you know?”
“Yeah. I know him. What do you think?”
Bree stood in the center of the living space and turned in a circle. She turned back to look at the main attraction of the currently empty room. “What a beautiful fireplace.” She walked over and ran her hand along the mantel, which was another new addition since Will had put the deposit on the place.
“But that’s not the best part.” He grabbed her hand again and drew her around and into the area that would become the kitchen and dining area. Completely devoid of counters, cabinets, or appliances, it was a matter of imagination. But he had no problem picturing a table big enough for a family at one end and an expanse of glossy granite counters at the other. “I love eat-in kitchens. My mom always had a kitchen big enough to eat in. But when it’s nice out, you can eat on the deck instead.”
He towed her along toward the big French doors, pushed them wide, and stepped out onto the paint-stained temporary plywood decking. He watched her face carefully. He wanted her to love this house. He wanted it to catch her fancy just as it had caught his.
“You can see the waterway,” she said in a wondering tone and pointed in that direction as she turned to look at him.
“It’s even better upstairs. Come and see.” Eager to show her everything at once, he pulled her back inside and over to the ladder. “You don’t have a problem with ladders, do you?”
Bree smiled at him, getting into the spirit of exploration. She shook her head, then looked down at her skirt. “You go first.”
