A Last Resort

by Brenda Sinclair

  “I’ll get settled in. See you later,” she called.

  He muttered something that might have been can’t wait. No doubt he’d intended the comment as sarcasm. She had invaded his home, after all. Well, not his home, but his space while finishing the surprise carpentry project. He mustn’t live nearby if he didn’t commute every day. And Jake was a total sweetheart; she wouldn’t mind having him around. Perhaps being here with the two of them wouldn’t prove the worst thing that ever happened.

  Regardless, she needed to finish writing this book and Lyndon needed to complete the garage and workshop. The challenge would be accomplishing their respective tasks without one of them doing bodily harm to the other. Of course, her mind offered the thought, teasingly. For the most part. Lyndon seemed easygoing enough.

  “I’ll suck it up and make the best of the situation,” she whispered, patting Jake’s head. The dog didn’t offer an objection.

  After all, how bad could it be?

  Chapter 2

  Lyndon sauntered back to the sawhorse to fetch the board he’d cut to fit. He grabbed the length of two by two and headed into the garage through the side man door.

  He’d almost forgotten what he’d been doing, and the lovely Emma Sullivan was totally to blame. With her pretty reddish auburn hair and those intense hazel eyes. Tall and slim, she could pass as a model or maybe a dancer. And those luscious kissable lips almost undid him. He chuckled knowing had he offered her a welcome kiss, she most likely would have clobbered him. If she hadn’t been so annoyed at his presence, she might have dazzled him with a remarkable smile. Maybe he’d win her over and be rewarded yet.

  Hearing she was an author surprised him. He hadn’t expected that. He wasn’t certain what genre she wrote, but he’d search Emma Sullivan online and maybe order some of her books. He loved reading mysteries and anything paranormal. Probably a result of renovating and restoring so many rundown properties, especially magnificent older homes given historical designation. Some of which boasted a resident ghost or two. He’d never met any of them, but that suited him just fine. Returning those magnificent houses to their former glory had become one of his construction company’s specialties and the justification behind charging the big bucks. As well as the reason he’d been offered an obscene amount of money by three of his employees who’d formed a partnership and hoped to buy him out. They probably wouldn’t have formulated the idea had he kept the option to purchase his family’s business to himself.

  He set the board aside and dug out his cell phone, then cursed the lack of phone service this far up the mountain. The Wifi worked though and he’d email Mike tonight and explain what happened. Not that it would change anything. For the remainder of the job he’d be stuck here with Miss Author to contend with, day and night. And where the heck was Jake? Usually he tripped over the dog almost every minute of the day. Maybe Jake considered it imperative to keep a watchful eye on the newcomer to ensure she wasn’t up to no good. Lyndon wouldn’t have taken Jake for a guard dog, but he’d only been the spaniel’s new owner for two months and the two of them were still learning each other’s habits and quirks. And rules. Jake wasn’t particularly fond of rules, but the poor fellow was trying.

  Lyndon picked up the piece of trim again to front the shelf in the first bay where Mike would park his half-ton truck and require his vehicle maintenance supplies close at hand. A few minutes later, Lyndon had attached the trim and decided to call it a day. After a quick shower, he’d change into sawdust-free clothes and then decide what he wanted for dinner. He’d loaded the upright freezer with frozen dinners and turkey sounded good.

  Twenty minutes later, he’d finished hauling the saw and other tools into the garage. He locked up for the night and wandered toward the back door, noticing several cabin windows glowed with light from within. Miss Author must be settling in and moving stuff into nearly every room in the place. Fine with him, as long as she didn’t mess with his belongings. He tugged off his work boots and parked them at the back door, and then wandered into the kitchen to discover the source of the most delectable aroma permeating the entire cabin.

  “What the heck are you making for your dinner?” he blurted without thinking.

  Emma popped her head out of the walk-in pantry, holding a bottle of raspberry vinaigrette salad dressing. “Vegetarian lasagna. And mixed greens salad.” She waved the bottle. “Forgot to pack any of this, but Rachael has several kinds here. And she won’t mind me using one.”

  Lyndon utilized every ounce of restraint to keep himself from turning up his nose. She’d lost him at ‘vegetarian’ but that lasagna smelled heavenly. No way he’d eat the stuff. Meat and potatoes were the mainstay of his diet. Vegetables had their place, but it sure as heck wasn’t in lasagna.

  “I’m going to shower and change and then I’ll make myself something,” he called on his way down the hallway to his room.

  Lyndon glanced into the guest room she’d chosen. The pale wooden beams and ceiling, an entire wall of windows and double doors leading to the wrap-around patio overlooking Mount Maskosis, along with white bedding on the king-sized bed and an electric fireplace encouraged an extended stay. An upholstered easy chair sat in the corner with a reading lamp and table nearby, waiting for Emma to cozy up for a drink and a good book before bedtime. The room seemed almost as decadent as the master suite which he’d taken a peek at out of curiosity when he first arrived. Only thing missing was the six-man hot tub beside the fireplace. Emma must have unpacked her suitcases already since there wasn’t one in sight. He caught himself smiling when he spotted the huge cinnamon-colored teddy bear sporting a large blue ribbon around his neck, occupying a spot atop the pillows on the bed. Must be a good luck charm or something. Of course, if Miss Author was single then the plush critter would be something to sleep with. Lyndon caught himself thinking of volunteering for the job of keeping her warm at night and then thought better of it. An image of his ex-wife flashed across his mind. Once was enough. The woman nearly drove him crazy the entire three years they’d been together, and Lyndon intended to remain single and sane for the remainder of his days.

  Fifteen minutes later, he finished the shower in his small ensuite and dressed in his own bright and inviting room decorated with masculine dark wood furniture and tan and brown bedding. Emma was nowhere in sight when he returned to the kitchen. The impressive chef’s dream boasted the upright freezer, two dishwashers, two microwaves, and an enormous six-burner range. He dug a beer out of the huge industrial-sized refrigerator and popped the tab.

  He flipped the light switch on, the late afternoon daylight no longer illuminating the room through the two substantial windows and the glass patio doors. The huge, granite-topped island grounded the entire room with more storage and four comfy, upholstered barstools running the entire length. There were more white upper cupboards and black lower ones and a walk-in pantry and more cabinets than he ever would have imagined possible. Whoever designed the space certainly knew what they were doing.

  He drank a mouthful of the cold beverage; his reward after a busy, productive day’s work. The mouth-watering aroma filled his nose and curiosity proved his downfall. He peeked into the oven where a large rectangular baking dish was warming. The cheese seemed close to perfection, melting without bubbling. And the smell…

  “Want some?”

  Lyndon released the handle and the door slammed closed. Heat rose up his face and not from the oven temperature. “Um… no, just wondering… if the oven was empty. I usually heat a frozen dinner every night.” Which, if his new cabinmate thought about it, she would realize had been a completely fabricated lie. Like most people would, he usually stuffed his frozen entrée into the microwave and in minutes dinner was served.

  Emma turned up her nose. “You never cook?”

  He shrugged. “If it’s nice weather, I dig out the grill and barbecue myself a steak.”

  “Steaks or frozen dinners.” She shook her head. “One extreme to the other.”

&nb
sp; He refused to dignify the truth of that statement with a reply. Besides, he’d eat darn near anything and frozen fare suited him fine, especially after a long workday.

  “There’s plenty of lasagna. And it’s all ready, if you want to share some.” She glanced his way and frowned. “Of course, it’s vegetarian, and a manly guy like you might question whether to risk it.”

  “What the heck did you put in it?”

  She chuckled and whispered, “Eye of newt and—”

  “Very funny. Probably soy or something equally gross.”

  “Spinach, two kinds of mushrooms, a bit of zucchini…” she met his eyes. “Three kinds of cheese…”

  He nodded. “Okay. Let’s eat.”

  “Set the table, Carpenter Man.” Emma grabbed the potholders off the counter and opened the oven. “Salad and the dressing, salt and pepper, are already on the table. But you’ll need to get the plates and cutlery.”

  “And another beer,” he added, tossing his empty in the recycling bin. “Want one?”

  “Lite or high test?”

  Lyndon snickered. “I have both.”

  “Lite for me, please.” She set the steaming dish onto the stovetop. “This is one of my favorite dinners. It’s rather nice having someone to eat with for a change.”

  Jake uttered a plaintive, feeling-sorry-for-myself whine. He sat nearby his dishes in the corner by the pantry.

  Lyndon set the plates and cutlery on the island. “Sorry, fella. I forgot all about you.” He hurried over and filled the dog dish with a measured serving of kibble and topped up the water dish while the dog sat passively waiting. “Okay.” Hearing the command to eat, Jake raced to his dish and the kibble disappeared in record time.

  “Is he really hungry? Or is that normal?” Emma cut the lasagna into squares and dished generous servings onto the two plates.

  “He’s a rescue. Found roaming the streets. Probably never knew where his next meal would be coming from. Old habits and all that,” Lyndon explained. “Actually, he waits for the ‘okay’ command now. First week or so, he nearly bowled me over getting to his dish while I was filling it.”

  “How long have you had him?”

  “Two months. Days before I started this job. Jake’s a quick learner and he really tries his best to please me. Hates it when I scold him for doing something wrong.” Lyndon carried the plates toward the dining room. “Do you always eat in here? Why not sit on the barstools at the island?”

  “Really?” Emma followed on his heels. “Rachael’s antique mahogany dining room table, twelve chairs, and cabinet with all the china and crystal probably cost as much or more than some people earn in a year. And you want to sit on a barstool?”

  Lyndon nodded. “So, we should enjoy it while we’re here?”

  “Exactly.” Emma seated herself.

  Lyndon returned to the fridge and grabbed two beers. He poked his head into the dining room. “I suppose you want a glass?”

  “Crystal, if you know where they are,” she replied, grinning.

  He shook his head but he’d finally been rewarded with what he suspected would be her beautiful smile. He grabbed a tall beverage glass from the china cabinet. “Should I do the honors? Wouldn’t want you spilling beer on this table.”

  “I can pour a beer without foam oozing over the rim of the glass.”

  “Go for it.” He passed her the can and the glass before stepping around to the other side of the table and seating himself.

  Emma surprised him by tipping the glass and carefully pouring the beverage. As she’d claimed, not one drop landed on the tabletop. “To your health, Carpenter Man.”

  “And to yours, Miss Author,” he countered, saluting her since she’d set the placemats at the table too far from each other to clink glasses.

  She gasped at the nickname. After taking a sip she set the glass down. “All right, I’ll call you Lyndon if you promise to refrain from using Miss Author for me.”

  “Deal. Emma it is.”

  “Okay. Eat up. I’m eager to hear your review of my culinary skills.” Emma took a bite of the lasagna. “Oh… oh… warning… that cheese is hot.”

  He smiled. “Usually is, right out of the oven,” he muttered as Jake wandered into the room. Lyndon expected his dog to lie down beside his chair as happened every night. The canine had other ideas and wandered over to Emma and sprawled at her feet. “He’ll give you those feel-sorry-for-me-I’m-starving eyes. Don’t fall for it.”

  Emma burst into laughter. “I’m getting ‘the look’ already.”

  “Jake, go to your bed,” Lyndon commanded.

  The dog glanced at his owner and then shuffled off down the hallway, head hung and tail between his legs.

  “You’re so mean,” Emma whispered, smiling.

  “Strict discipline.” Lyndon took a bite and groaned. “This is actually good. Sure beats a frozen dinner.”

  * * *

  Emma couldn’t recall the last time she’d shared a meal with a man. Alone. Of course, this wasn’t a date. Not even close. Just two people forced to share accommodations and eat together. Having company for dinner every night might be enjoyable. Conversation alone would be a welcome change from eating in front of the television every night. “Make you a deal. I’ll cook… and you do the dishes.” She raised one eyebrow, waiting for his reply.

  “Every night?”

  “Dinner only. And who wouldn’t want to utilize that incredible kitchen. But we’ll be responsible for our own breakfast and lunch.” She hadn’t any idea when he started work, but she wasn’t vacating that lovely guest room and making an appearance before ten o’clock unless the place was on fire.

  “You’re on. And so you know, I’ll eat anything. Even this vegetarian stuff, if it’s all going to taste this delicious.” He stuffed another forkful into his mouth.

  Emma feigned a swoon, the backside of her hand on her forehead and eyes closed. “Such high praise. Be still my heart.”

  Lyndon laughed. “Okay, that should have been worded better. But a steak once in a while would be appreciated. I’ll grill if you do the rest. Potatoes, salad, whatever.”

  “I’ll eat a steak once in a while.” She lifted the fork to her mouth, eyes alight and grinning mischievously. “Chicken steaks are very tasty.”

  “Are you serious?” He shook his head. “You’re making that up.”

  “Nope. Boneless chicken breast splayed, pounded, breaded, and then baked to perfection. Yum.” Emma served herself more salad and passed him the bowl. “Look it up online. Recipes galore.”

  “You prep ’em and I’ll grill ’em. This arrangement might work out after all.” Lyndon poured dressing on his salad and smiled. “By the way, what’s for dessert?”

  Chapter 3

  Three days later, Emma willingly admitted she’d been wrong… the situation was exceedingly worse than she ever could have imagined.

  Not that she and Lyndon weren’t getting along. Their time together so far hadn’t resulted in a single argument. Not that her cabinmate possessed habits that constantly annoyed her, just the opposite. Not that Jake wasn’t being his sweet doggy self. He’d even learned begging at the table would never yield a reward, and he wandered off to his bed without being told whenever she and Lyndon were seated in the dining room. No, the problem rested squarely on her shoulders.

  She couldn’t keep her mind off Lyndon Reynolds.

  The man occupied her every waking thought, and she even dreamt about him last night. In a very romantic way which was most disturbing of all. If dreams come true, one of these times, she’d be enjoying one heck of a satisfying night in his bed. Ha! Wishful thinking.

  There appeared one significant upside to all of this. Until now, she hadn’t liked the hero in this book. He’d shown himself too self-centered, opinionated, career-obsessed. Anything but heroic in any woman’s point of view. Had her attitude toward most men rubbed off on her writing? She suspected she’d unwittingly transferred her poor opinion of the jerk from her la
st failed relationship onto her current hero. However, all of that had changed.

  The darn book had taken on a life of its own and was almost writing itself. At least, the scenes written from the hero’s point of view. And the reason being, with every word she wrote, Emma was substituting an image of Lyndon for her previously problematic hero. Lyndon at work, wearing that low-slung toolbelt; her hero had become a carpenter. Lyndon making passionate love in a king-sized bed with the heroine. Perhaps the catalyst behind last night’s dream. Lyndon cooking the heroine dinner, wearing nothing but silk boxer shorts. All of it there on the page for the entire world to see. She prayed her cabinmate would never read the book and realize the hero was now stylized on him. Would Rachael recognize the source of her new-found inspiration? She imagined her humiliation should that happen, but the story had improved a hundredfold and she refused to change one single syllable.

  “I’m doomed,” she muttered, climbing off the family room sofa and tripping over Jake. “Sorry, big guy, I forgot you were there.”

  Jake dropped his head onto his paws and watched her cross the floor. When he realized she was heading for the kitchen, he leapt to his feet and raced after her.

  “Is food all you think about?” she accused, patting his head. “I guess when you’re a street dog and starving… it’s probably a hard habit to kick.”

  “Traitor!”

  Emma jumped at the accusation, then realized Lyndon meant Jake. His dog spent his days inside with her while Lyndon worked out in the garage. Why her muse suddenly returned to the cabin, she hadn’t a clue.

  “Don’t blame Jake. If you possessed a fraction of his keen hearing, would you rather spend your days listening to the tap of laptop keys or the ear-splitting buzz of that table saw?” Emma stood, one hand on her hip waiting for his reply, defying him to disagree with her logic.

  “Things get rather loud out there and I was wearing hearing protection.” Lyndon crouched down and ruffled the dog’s ears. “Sorry for not thinking of you. Stay in here with Em and enjoy the quiet.”