by Casey Hagen
***
Bellamy’s throat grew thick, her fingers flexing on his skin. Parts north and south tingled, reminding her that she hadn’t been with a man in more than a year.
And she’d never been with this man.
No one believed it. After all, they had dated for four years. They’d definitely made out. They’d made out hard. But they’d never crossed the line. They wanted it to be special since they planned to be each other’s only. They wanted a room, a bed, and no worry that they would be caught.
They’d underestimated how hard it would be in a small town.
Maybe it wasn’t realistic to begin with. Maybe they’d tried too hard to build a fairytale in a world that no longer supported such aspirations.
“Hi, Shane. I’m Bellamy. And right now I’m wondering if you’re up to the job, being that you’re an architect and all, not a general contractor, carpenter, or handyman.”
He’d changed so much since she’d seen him last, standing in her yard wearing his letterman’s jacket. He’d had a thick head of short brown hair and those captivating, ice-blue eyes that grabbed her attention.
But this man, he kept his hair a bit longer and had grown a full, neatly-trimmed beard and mustache. The rustic look worked for him with his plaid button-up shirt, vest, faded Levi’s, and work boots. The more that facial hair hid, the more his hypnotizing eyes stood out.
She wondered at the feel of the scrape of that beard against her cheek.
Her shoulder.
Between her thighs.
Crap, back to those mesmerizing eyes.
Right now they assessed her, and she felt their caress from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet.
For a moment she wondered if he’d read her mind.
A slow grin slid across his face. “You forget all the jobs I did with my dad.”
With her hand still enveloped in his, she said, “I forget nothing. A part-time job during high school does not an adept builder make.”
“Ahh, true. However, I’m an architect now, and I make sure I work on the jobsite of every project for at least a week. I’ve done it all.”
She cocked her head. “You really do that? Why?”
“Morale is the very foundation of every job. I need the crews executing my designs to respect me. I need them to feel valued. I want them to know that they’re the most important part of the project. I’m just the man who draws the pictures and does the math.”
He heart fluttered a bit at that. The man hadn’t changed. Who he was, his foundation, was indeed the same as she’d known, despite the time apart…and the things she had heard that he had gone through.
Loosening her fingers, they slipped from his and she immediately missed the heat. “Well, man who just does the math, how about I show you what you’re up against?”
She needed distance between them. She needed them to remember their place in this whole deal.
She led him to the dining room and opened the sliding glass door. “It’s a pretty standard screened porch. I’m kind of surprised they only screened in the panels since the walls below are solid, on 2x4 studs.”
He walked to the back wall where the screens overlooked her back yard, and ran his fingers along the frames. “It’s unusual. But I’ve got to tell you, I’m glad they didn’t skimp on the construction. The plans show that this was built with the main house, not added later, so you can bet they took care with the structure of the whole house.”
“I hope so for how much I paid for it,” she said with a laugh.
“I wondered about that, but figured it was none of my business. What do you do for your nine to five that helped you afford this without a roommate?”
“Well, Gram ended up with breast cancer. She battled for a year and a half, but in the end I lost her. She left some money to me, and that covered about half. I have a mortgage on the other half, and find I can manage well enough with my photography business. It’ll be a while before I can upgrade much of anything but it’s solid and clean, and that’s all that matters.”
“My mother didn’t tell me. I’m sorry, Bellamy. Claudette was an amazing woman.”
Bellamy choked back unexpected tears. It had been six years now, and she should be over it, but the woman had saved her from a horrid fate. She’d given Bellamy a safe and happy life. She’d given her a home in St. Helena. “She was. I miss her. Every single day, I miss her.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he agreed quietly.
“I suppose you do,” she said with a nod. She wouldn’t pry about his wife and son. She’d heard about their deaths, but not the details, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“So, this will be a second studio. Where’s the first?”
“Well, you’ll probably laugh, but it’s the master bedroom.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. You always did have a habit of putting everyone before yourself. Makes sense you’d make sure your clients were most comfortable, even if it costs you in the end.”
“You make me sound like a martyr. I’m not sure I like it. Come on, I’ll show you the other studio so you know what I’m looking for.” She led him through the main living area to the master suite at the end of the hall.
“Not a martyr at all. I’m pretty sure you don’t even notice what you’re missing by giving up the master. I’m willing to gamble that you’ve made the best of it and haven’t given it another thought since.”
She pursed her lips and thought about it. He was right. Sure, the master was bigger, but she only used the room for sleep, so what did she care? And so what if she crossed the hall to use the bathroom instead of walking the extra floor space in the master? They were probably the same distance anyway.
“It’s disconcerting how well you know me. Shouldn’t that have gone away after all this time?” she asked over her shoulder before pushing open the door.
“Apparently, some things never die.”
His eyes widened as they locked on hers.
She forgot to breathe.
The words hung between them, bearing the weight of their pasts.
And perhaps daring them to contemplate their future.
Chapter 4
Shane scratched his head as he looked over the plans he’d spread on the folding table in the middle of the porch.
What the hell had he been thinking, opening his mouth?
Yes, opening his mouth. Period.
He should have pretended to be mute from the time he arrived.
He pinched himself twice, convinced he wasn’t really standing in Bellamy’s house, making eyes with her, holding her hand for far too long, and spewing double-entendres whenever he spoke.
The pinch hurt both times—proving he was, indeed, an idiot.
Damn, it was going to be a long week.
He made a call to his mother so she could reassure his dad that he had everything under control at Bellamy’s house. Then he started ripping out screens so he could frame in the square openings, insulate them, and ready them for drywall.
Bellamy checked on him twice, bearing steaming, hot coffee in a thick, Chatter Shack mug.
“What’s the Chatter Shack?”
She leaned against the door frame and smiled. “God, you really have missed a lot. It’s this little burger joint with a huge bar. It serves all the local wines and endless craft beers. Draws in the local crowd who might not be looking to dress up for Medallion’s on Main or for the tasting rooms in the area. My friends and I meet there a couple times a week for dinner or drinks, depending on the night.”
“So, you taking me there for dinner tonight? Since we’re friends again and all.” He smiled and winked before hammering in the nail sticking out of the 2x4.
“Why should I take you out? I’m putting all this money into this project. You should take me out for throwing you the business.”
“Really…you kept me waiting in the driveway for an hour this morning while you bought your Ben & Jerry’s. I think you owe me.”
“Have you been digging through my freezer?”
“Nope.” He set the hammer down and headed for her with slow, measured steps, just to make her wonder what he was up to. “I know you, Bellamy. It may have been over a decade, but I know you. There’s no way you walked out of the store without a pint of Chunky Monkey, Half-Baked, or Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream.” He grabbed the box of nails on the stand right next to her hip, returned to the window, and refilled the leather pouch on his tool belt.
She grinned and crossed her arms. “Okay, hotshot. I’ll take you to dinner. But not tonight. How does tomorrow work for you?”
He grabbed the next nail and held it up, ready to tap it into place and drive it home. “Tomorrow’s fine. What do you have going on tonight?” He pulled the hammer back.
“I have a date,” she said.
He sent the hammer sailing forward and caught his thumb on her words. “Son of a bitch!” He yanked his hand back, and shook it as if he could shake off the embarrassment of his blunder.
“Wow. That looks like it hurt. You really should pay closer attention.” With those parting words she disappeared from the doorway, leaving him to wallow in his shame.
“Nice going, McGovern. Slick, real slick,” he muttered as he watched her retreating back.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, his thumb had started turning all kids of wonderful colors. Nothing like adding a degree of difficulty to his already-screwed-up week.
He packed up for the day after completing the window framing and stripping the indoor/outdoor carpet from the slab. He treated the concrete with a bonding agent so a fresh layer of concrete would adhere when he poured it at the end of the day tomorrow in order to level the floor.
Thankfully, the porch was only slightly pitched; he could do it all by hand and with minimal fuss. The concrete under the carpet was in excellent condition, indicating the porch had never taken on water.
Normally, he would just leave, but it didn’t feel right to duck out without saying goodbye.
He looked in the kitchen and living area first, with no luck. He hesitated at the hall. What if she was showering or getting dressed?
Not that she was hard on the eyes and he wasn’t a red-blooded male, but walking in on her crossed the creep line, and no matter how he had fallen in recent years he had some damn pride and respect.
Opting for the safe route, he called out to her. “Bellamy? You down here?”
She popped her head out of the bathroom, sliding a pearl earring into her earlobe. “Come on down.”
He stopped in the doorway to the bathroom and tried not to swallow his tongue. Bellamy stood there in a high-neck, sleeveless black dress. She had twisted her hair up into one of those classy twists at the back. Confidence rolled off of her in waves as she stood in black velvet heels that flexed her shapely calves.
All she needed were elbow-length black satin gloves, and she’d be Audrey Hepburn straight from the set of Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
He’d feel better about her running around in something cleavage-baring and short-skirted. That kind of look appealed to certain men. What she had just created with a simple dress, pearls, and bobby pins appealed to every living, breathing, testosterone-pumping man on the planet.
He wanted to throw a coat over her.
He wanted to lock her in her room and forbid her from going on her date.
He wanted to bury every feeling she woke up inside of him that had lain dormant for the past two years.
“Are you done for the day?” she asked, glancing at him in the mirror before smoothing petal-pink gloss onto her plump lips.
Bloody hell.
“Yeah, I’ll be back first thing. You’ll be here this time?” The words were curt, but he couldn’t help it. He had an uncooperative dick dancing in his jeans and a cloud of pure, disgruntled horn dog hanging over his lust-filled head.
Her fingers froze. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “You okay?”
She asked the words like she hadn’t just annihilated every fantasy he’d ever had and replaced it with this vision of her, in this moment. “Yeah, good. I’ll see you first thing.” He nodded, and turned for the door.
Profound, McGovern. Way to charm her with your charm.
He needed a goddamned drink, and not in a bar. He needed the protection of home so he didn’t make a total ass of himself.
He made it home in ten minutes, and all hope to wallow in a bottle of Jack vanished with the lights blazing in the windows.
He entered the laundry room off the kitchen and shed his boots, knowing better than to track mud on his mother’s tile floors.
Father having a heart attack or no, Pamela McGovern would box his ears for taking leave of his manners.
Devin stood in the kitchen, drinking a glass of ice water, her cell phone pressed to her ear.
The minute she spotted him she ended her call, smiled, and bounced on the balls of her feet as she crossed over and hugged him.
He squeezed her hard and lifted her onto her toes. Her being just a couple inches shy of his six-foot-one-inch-tall frame, it was the best he could do.
“I missed you, little brother,” she whispered.
There was something in her voice; he couldn’t place it, but something wasn’t right. Maybe she was just worried about their dad. After all, he had been terrified.
He pulled back and searched her aquamarine eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She waved a hand and shook her head. “Nothing. Why do you think there’s something wrong?”
They leaned against the counter and he slung his arm around her. “Because when you’re in the room, you take command of everything.”
She gave him a sharp look with a frown.
“Hey, I don’t mean that in a bad way. You’re larger than life. The energy force for all of us. Today, though, it’s like someone dulled your shine. Whose ass do I have to kick?”
She grabbed her water and took a couple gulps.
Evasion. He knew it well.
With a shake of her head, she said, “It’s fine. I’m just exhausted. I’ve been going for twenty hours a day for the past two weeks, and now this. I tried to sleep on the plane, but you know how that goes.”
“I do, but I would think you’d be used to it by now.”
Something was definitely up with her. “Listen…something happened. I don’t know what, but I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
Her glistening eyes met his. “You’d throw yourself on that sword for me?”
He grabbed a couple of long necks from the fridge and handed her one. “Of course. You may be older, but you’re a girl. It’s my job to protect you.”
She popped the top and took two healthy pulls. “You’re an ass.”
He held up his bottle and clinked it with hers. “Don’t I know it.”
She nodded her head toward the living room, and he followed her to the couch. She pulled open the drawer of the coffee table and slid out a takeout menu. “Pizza good for you?”
He nodded. “There’s never a time pizza isn’t good for me.”
“So, how did life kick you in the teeth today?” she asked as she dialed her cell.
“I’m filling in for Dad—he took on a personal project.”
“So what?” She held up her finger when the pizza joint answered. “I’d like a large meat lover’s with extra bacon.” She rattled off the address and hung up, returning her attention to him. She held his stare, waiting for him to fess up.
“For Bellamy Stone.”
“Holy shit!” She doubled over in a full belly laugh. This time the tears in her eyes were from laughter at his expense. “Oh, that’s rich. How could Dad’s timing have been any freaking better? You stepped in it big time. Did Bellamy give you what for? Kick you in the balls? Slash your tires?”
He shook his head, propping his feet on the coffee table. “She put on a dress.”
“Huh?”
He took a pull of his beer, and rolled his lips
inward after sucking the foam from his upper lip. “A goddamned phenomenal dress.”
“What the hell does the dress have to do with anything?”
“She has a date tonight. In a matter of hours, that dress might be crumpled on the floor.” He pushed off the sofa and paced the living room. “I need something more than beer.” He hightailed it to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of Jack he knew his parents kept in the small cabinet over the fridge, and grabbed a glass.
The minute she caught sight of him, she gave him shit. “Oh, no you don’t. Go get a glass for me.”
He grabbed one for her and dropped down beside her again. Before he could even twist the cap, she took the bottle from his hands and did the honors. “So you were jealous?”
“No.” He finished his beer and picked up the full glass of whiskey, sure he was going to regret the combination in the morning, but not giving one shit.
“Come on. It’s me you’re talking to. I know you didn’t leave her because you stopped loving her. You were running toward something. Something you didn’t think she would want.”
“She loves St. Helena. She never would have left.”
Devin pulled her glass away from her lips and raised a perfectly arched brow. “You never gave her the choice.”
“I was protecting her,” he said, downing the rest of the sharp liquid. Warmth spread through his belly, and he almost believed the bullshit he was peddling to his sister.
“Liar. You were protecting you.”
Leave it to Devin to call him on it. “It’s your turn to fall on the sword. I bled more than my fair share tonight. Spill.”
“My modeling gigs are drying up. The industry is telling me I’m getting too fat.”
“Explain to me how that works for a plus-sized model, because I don’t get it.”
“I’ve teetered over to a size twelve on occasion.”
“So?”
“So, in the modeling world, at least the modeling world I’m in, the only thing I’m going to be good for modeling at a size twelve is car covers.”
