“He’s a decent guy, Grace. I know you two rub each other the wrong way, but he wasn’t going to say no to this.”
Grace stepped out of the car and looked up at the house that would be her home while she searched for some semblance of normal.
Yes, she and Kyle rubbed each other the wrong way. He was all repressed, cold impassiveness and she was, well, a normal human being with feelings. Feelings she expressed verbally and through her art.
She had no problem with people who were different from her, but Kyle was bound and determined to look down his nose at her and her choices. It never failed to rub her the wrong way.
Jacob gave her a nudge. “Come on. Let’s get you settled.”
It was cold enough to warrant wearing a coat, but Grace decided to tough it out without one. She hefted her bag onto her shoulder and pushed Jacob away from trying to carry her suitcase and painting-supply case.
They walked in the back entrance, which had once been meant for servants. The thought made Grace smile. She definitely belonged in the servants’ quarters.
“Oh, do me a favor, don’t tell Kyle about your gun. Not sure how well that one will go over.”
She patted her bag. “Keep ol’ Betsy on the down-low. Got it.” Not a problem. She didn’t go around announcing to the world that she could barely stand the thought of leaving her house unarmed. It wasn’t something she was proud of. Fear lived and breathed inside of her, but shame and determination kept it buried.
Grace followed Jacob up the back stairs to the room he’d earmarked for her.
He stopped at the top of the stairs. “I had Kelly come in and do the interior design for your room.”
“I told you not to do that.”
He shrugged, pushing the door open. “The more rooms we have to show what we can do, the better. I just rearranged the order a bit.”
“I’m sure Kyle loved that.” The minute Grace stepped into the room, she forgot all about Kyle and his OCD tendencies. “Jacob, this is gorgeous.” It was a tiny room—Grace had insisted on that. Not to mention its location had been the most practical choice in staying out of Jacob’s and Kyle’s hair. Their offices were on the other end of the long hallway.
Even if the room was tiny, it was absolutely perfect. She had a big window that overlooked the river. The light would be excellent to spend her mornings painting. The view was inspiring. Yeah, this was a little better than spending eight hours at Cabby’s, then going home and painting by unnatural light in the basement of her little house.
Not that she’d had time to paint with her parents’ constant hovering.
Grace took in the rest of the room. She’d expected the fuss and frills of the Victorian era, but it wasn’t like that at all. The walls were a deep green with a gleaming white trim. The full-size bed was covered in a floral-print bedspread, but the little violets were so tiny and pale lavender, it didn’t overwhelm the room. A small dresser stood in the corner with a ceramic lamp, delicately painted with more violets to match the bedspread. A lavender vase held a clutch of pink roses.
“I know it’s a little girlie with the flowers, but Kelly said an artist could appreciate a little girlie. Even you.”
Grace dumped her bags near the closet and grinned. No, she’d never been much of a girlie girl, but this was too pretty to resist. She was already planning out the colors she’d use to watercolor a hillside of violets to match the room.
“It’s perfect. Perfect.” She gave Jacob an impulsive squeeze. Leave it to her brother to make sure she wouldn’t want to leave anytime soon.
“I even had Kelly leave the walls bare so we could put up something you paint here. Artwork inspired by the room itself. Clients will eat that up.”
Grace was speechless and a little misty. She’d learned a lot in the past seven years, mainly how to protect herself, but she’d also learned firsthand that her little brother was one hell of a man when he wanted to be.
“You’re here.”
Grace turned and wrinkled her nose at Kyle standing in the doorway. It was a Saturday, and what was he wearing? Khakis and a button-up shirt. Who did that? If he ever deigned to wear jeans and a T-shirt, he might actually be kind of cute. In that preppy, brooding kind of way.
He’d filled out a bit since high school. Now instead of looking like a beanpole, he looked more as if he could be a marathon runner, lean but all muscle. He kept his blond hair cut very short, and his dark blue eyes always looked at her with the practiced disdain of royalty.
Which was crap because he was from Carvelle just like her and Jacob. Not only that, but he’d grown up in the trailer park while she and Jacob had lived in a small but cozy house in the nicer part of town thanks to two teacher parents.
But Kyle always went on about wine and opera and every pretentious thing under the sun with his clients, as though he was from somewhere cultured and fancy. He seemed to go out of his way to make people think he was something better, shinier and more important than a boy from a trailer park.
Grace wanted to feel sorry for him and what little she knew of his difficult childhood, but Kyle did everything in his power to pretend that his years in Carvelle didn’t exist.
It rankled Grace’s nerves the way he sneered at her choice of clothes, or her tattoo, or the colorful strands of her hair. He seemed on a mission to make her feel like the gum he’d scraped off the bottom of his shoe.
She didn’t deserve that treatment, and she’d never let him believe she did.
But he was agreeing to let her stay at his house. And she knew, mostly when her guidance counselor mother reminded her, that Kyle’s attitude had to stem from some kind of insecurity. So she would try to be nice.
Try.
“Hey, Kyle.”
“Grace. Welcome.”
His tone was bland. He sounded like a butler in one of those boring British movies where nothing happens and people just look at each other longingly.
Whatever, Mr. Khaki Pants. “Thank you for letting me stay.” Her gratitude was sincere, even if he wasn’t one of her favorite people.
“Of course.”
You’re here. Grace. Welcome. Of course. Could the guy string more than two words together? Grace turned to the window and the pretty view below. It really was best now that he was so tight-lipped, because she had a bad habit of baiting him when he started talking about anything.
He shouldn’t bother her. Grace knew that, but it didn’t change the fact that he did. All that condescension and disapproval. It was human nature to want to be contrary, wasn’t it? She certainly wasn’t going to go the Kyle Clark route and dress and act like some kind of stuffy, repressed robot just because bad things happened.
No. She lived in the moment, for the moment, took everything she could from the moment. Screw rules. If she wanted her hair to be fuchsia, so be it. If she wanted to tattoo her face with an obscene picture, her prerogative. And if Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass frowned upon it, she most certainly did not care.
Grace flipped her hair over her shoulder, hoping he noticed the cascade of color beneath the brown.
Mom’s voice reminded her to play nice, and Grace felt immediately contrite for her inner diatribe. Sore nerve? Ugh. The guy was doing her a favor; she was going to have to cut him some slack. Or just avoid him at all costs. But right now, avoidance wasn’t an option. “It’s a great room. You guys have accomplished a lot.”
“Thank you.”
Grace rolled her eyes at yet another two-word sentence, but she bit her tongue. No need to get off on the wrong foot her very first day.
Silence settled over the room and Grace sighed. “All right, let’s get this over with.” She could feel the pinned-up tension waving off Kyle and weighing heavily on the small corner room. She could ignore it, or they could all get it out of their systems so the next few weeks went smoothly.
<
br /> “What?” Jacob and Kyle asked in unison.
“Mr. Stickler over there probably has a list of rules for me while I’m here. Probably wants me to sign a blood oath I’ll follow them, too.”
Jacob looked at Kyle, then the ceiling. Obviously she’d been right.
“It’s okay.” She hopped onto the pretty bed, stretched out. “Lay ’em on me.”
* * *
KYLE FROWNED. HE did have some ground rules for Grace, but even he wasn’t rude enough to bring them up the minute she arrived. Especially when she was staying with them for such…sensitive reasons.
But Grace embodied everything Kyle worked so hard to rise above. No, she didn’t just embody it, she embraced it. She flaunted it. He had a business to run in this house, and her image didn’t match.
And if he kept telling himself that, he could ignore that Grace always put him off-kilter. Always prompted more response out of him than he wanted to give.
“I’m sure you have something to say about my tattoo,” she offered. “You’re always sneering at it.”
He wanted to argue. He didn’t sneer at it, per se. It was just so bright and…visible. That was fine for Grace, it even kind of suited her, but Grace…Grace did not fit the ordered, muted world he wanted.
“Your tattoo is fine, but… Well, it’s an image thing. We routinely have clients taking tours of the house. While your room will be off-limits for the duration of your stay, we may ask you to vacate it for scheduled tours. The kitchen and TV room are within the common areas. It’s likely you’ll be seen. Some people are put off by tattoos.” Which was why no one ever saw his.
She lay back on the bed, resting her head on folded arms. The sleeve on her arm rode up so the tattoo was now almost completely visible. The faded T-shirt she wore had bunched up so that a smooth strip of pale skin was exposed.
Back in high school she’d been more curvy, but ever since her incident, as he preferred to refer to it, she’d changed. She was lean now, her body toned with muscle as if she’d spent a lot of time trying to purposefully bulk up.
Wasn’t that what he’d done after his own…incident?
Kyle focused on the tattoo. “Well?”
“Well, listening to you talk reminds me of Mr. Mallory’s boring science lectures. But I get it. Walk around in long sleeves to hide my off-putting tattoo. Next?”
He scowled. How did she manage to make his perfectly reasonable request sound so ridiculous? “Next…” Kyle paused. She’d started this, but he was coming off looking like the jerk.
And that was why he hated to be around Grace. She always flipped things on their side. He could never control the situation. He’d spent eighteen years in a volatile, uncontrollable environment. He’d fought tooth and nail to get out, to make something of himself enough so that he was in control of his life.
Grace had an easy way of making him feel as though he’d failed.
“If you don’t like my tattoo, I imagine you don’t approve of my hair, either.”
“It is rather colorful.”
“And that’s a problem?”
He tamped down his irritation. For whatever reason, Grace always pulled emotions out of him he usually found easy to repress. No one else in his life could do that even with their best efforts.
Well, except one person, but Kyle refused to acknowledge that little blip.
“Problem is a harsh word. Again, it’s about image. We want our clients to look at this house, at us, and see professionals. Whether it’s right or not, your tattoo, your hair, your clothes will reflect on us. It’s not a professional look.”
“Is this guy serious?” Grace demanded of Jacob.
Jacob fished his phone out of his pocket. “I should call Mom. Tell her I got you settled in.” He stepped out of the room.
“Coward,” Grace muttered. She looked over at him now, her brown eyes assessing and obviously not impressed with the result.
“Bet you never thought you’d be alone in a bedroom with me,” she said after a pause.
“No, I suppose not.” Which wasn’t exactly true. Before he’d left Carvelle determined to never, ever set foot in that hellhole again, he’d had a little thing for Grace. But like most things from his teenage years, Kyle had come to his senses and left it behind.
Grace let out a lengthy sigh. “I get it. You want me to be some business professional clone.”
Kyle doubted it was possible. “Just during business hours.”
She snorted, rolling onto her side and studying him. “Personality isn’t a crime.”
Personality Grace had in spades. She always had, but she’d changed over the past few years. Her personality had expanded, exploded, so that it was so big he felt choked when he was in a room with her.
“No, I suppose not.”
“You could use a shot of it now and then.” She grinned.
It was hard to take offense when she was right. He preferred not to have much in the way of personality. It was the best way for people to look at him as an efficient professional without wanting to get to know him better. Getting to know people always led to questions he didn’t want to answer.
“Well, I’ll leave you to settle in.”
She nodded, closed her eyes. “Thanks for agreeing to this, Kyle. Really.”
Kyle swallowed. It had taken some convincing on Jacob’s part to get him to agree, so her thanks only made him feel like an ass. “No problem. I may be lacking in personality, but you’re always welcome.”
She might irritate him to no end, but he knew what it was like to go through trauma. Though he’d managed to keep them at a distance, the McKnights had always offered to help him. He owed the same to Grace. Whether he liked it or not. So he’d agreed to Jacob’s one-month proposal, and hoped like hell that was all it took.
“Don’t be so nice. I won’t know how to act.” She flopped back on the bed and took a deep breath, her chest moving up, drawing his eyes down to the deep V of her T-shirt. Quickly he stepped to the door and moved his eyes to the ceiling.
The last thing he needed to be noticing was his best friend’s sister’s breasts. Even if they were nice breasts. Well, weren’t most breasts pretty nice? Good God, he needed to stop thinking about breasts.
He stepped out of the room before she could do anything else to put him off-balance.
Kyle walked down the long hall to his office. He didn’t believe in wasting days on leisure. There was always something to work on for MC Restorations, and nothing made him more balanced than work.
Jacob was sitting at Kyle’s desk, his battered sneakers resting on the gleaming wood. Kyle tried not to wince.
“So do I get an A plus?”
Jacob chuckled. “I give you a solid B. A for effort, though.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Do you mind? I have work to do.”
Jacob swiveled in the chair, planting his feet on the ground instead of Kyle’s desk, thank God, but he didn’t get up. “We’ve talked about this.”
“Yes, we have, and we haven’t come to an agreement. So you keep taking your weekends off and I’ll keep working mine.”
“You need to lighten up, dude. We made it. MC is doing great. We don’t need to bust our asses with the seven-day weeks anymore.”
“I’m light enough to suit me. And I work the amount of days I care to work.”
“Come on. Tonight you should come out with me and Candy. It’ll be fun.”
“As fun as the last time you and Candy invited me out and I got ambushed by squealing Jenny?” As long as Jacob was dating Candy the Dictator, Kyle would be staying far away. He didn’t understand Jacob’s need for constant companionship. Being alone on a Saturday night sounded great to him, especially if Candy and her slew of single friends was the alternative.
Jacob held his hands up
. “I had no idea that was Candy’s plan until Jenny showed up. The squealing wasn’t that bad.”
“Every time the waiter brought something.” Kyle imitated the horrible high-pitched squeal and Jacob hid a laugh with a cough. “It was that bad.”
Jacob shook his head, but he was laughing. “You’re too damn picky, man. Besides—”
“I’m not going. Shouldn’t you at least be around on your sister’s first night?”
Jacob frowned, swiveled back and forth in the chair. “Yeah, tell that to Candy. I tried to get Grace to come, too, but she and Candy don’t get along.”
“I can imagine.” Kyle jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Now, if you don’t mind.”
Jacob rolled his eyes. “One of these days, you’re going to have to let up.”
“Well, one of these days is not today.” Kyle slid into the chair Jacob vacated, feeling immediately better. This room, this desk, was indeed his happy place. Some people thought it was sad, but Kyle was perfectly content, so what did other people matter?
“I won’t stay out too late, but keep an eye on Grace for me.”
Kyle scowled. That was definitely not his first choice, but he nodded if only to get Jacob out of his room. He had no doubt Grace could take care of herself.
Jacob left and Kyle booted up his computer. So it would be just him and Grace in the house tonight. Thank God it was a big house and Kyle had plenty of work to keep him occupied.
Copyright © 2014 by Nicole Helm
ISBN-13: 9781460333686
SMALL-TOWN REDEMPTION
Copyright © 2014 by Beth Burgoon
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
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