Kissing Bree

by JoMarie DeGioia

  He supposed that might be because he’d been saving everything he could in case his mother needed it. He’d wanted her completely independent from his father, but he’d overseen the drafting of her divorce and he’d made sure the bastard would continue to pay through the nose for years to come.

  Last year, while in a hot debate with his mother over that impending divorce, he’d been preoccupied during his visit with Eli to Cypress. Almost upon arriving this time, though? This time he’d opened his eyes to more than the possibility of finding his mother a new place. He’d focused on finding his own, outside of Boston and outside of his father’s influence.

  He parked the truck in front of what would be his new house. Its pale blue clapboard siding looked a little worn out, but a fresh coat of paint on the outside would do a lot. Maybe he’d go a little darker, and have the trim painted a bright white. Do the front doors in a glossy deep red. Give it a real New England feel.

  Bree was right about the huge front porch. He could imagine his mother and sister hanging out there, in wicker or Adirondack chairs. Maybe a glider or swing. The front entry was massive, and the large carriage lights on either side of the double front doors were scaled to fit the size. He’d be moving in before the month was out, if the closing date lined up with what he’d requested. Then he would have a place his mother would feel safe.

  His house was a lot like Bree’s, at least in style if not in size. Traditional with sturdy squared-off columns that held up the roof and led the eye to the deep eaves. Two of the three upstairs bedrooms overlooked the backyard like the first-floor guest suite but the master bedroom boasted a balcony set over the front porch. It was a little unusual, but with the temperate weather in Central Florida he imagined he’d use that balcony more often than not.

  Resisting the urge to go up onto the front porch to peer into the windows like a little kid, he drove on towards Bree’s house. Her street wasn’t far from the Cypress Inn, which was why he’d walked over there the other evening. She’d looked so sweet sitting there, wrapped in that thick blanket. She’d been watching the sunset and he’d taken a few seconds to watch her. She’d looked…soft. More like the girl he’d held in his arms in his soon-to-be kitchen and less like the one he’d known before or since.

  Giving himself a mental shake, he parked the truck, got out and walked up to her front porch. As he raised his fist to knock she opened the door.

  “Good morning!” She practically hummed as she stepped out onto the porch, glancing over his shoulder behind him. “Ooh, Eli’s truck. Good.”

  He pulled back to take her in. She wore jeans that ended midcalf and a white baseball shirt with pink sleeves. With sneakers on her feet and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked more like a college coed than the successful salesperson he knew her to be.

  “You look ready to hit it,” he said.

  She bounced a little on the balls of her feet as she fingered the strap on the bag slung over one shoulder. “I really don’t know what to expect to find in there, but I’m hoping it’ll be something to make this place feel more homey.”

  He nodded and waved her ahead of him. “Lead on. I’m your pack mule today.”

  She smiled at him, a big smile that nearly knocked him off his feet. “Then tonight’s dinner will be on me.”

  He arched a brow as he opened the passenger door for her. “We’re going to finally have dinner?”

  “Finally?” She hopped up into the seat. “We’ve known each other for less than a week.”

  He smiled at that. “It’s been some week. First you kiss me and then you avoid me.”

  She gasped and he went around to the driver’s side.

  “You kissed me!”

  “All right. You slapped me.”

  She bit her lower lip, obviously holding back another smile as she buckled her seatbelt. “You have me there.”

  He buckled himself and started the engine. “Just tell me to drive, Bree.”

  “On to Orlando, Derek.”

  He nodded and pulled away from the curb. “This should be an interesting day.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “I bet whatever your grandmother left you will say a lot about her.” He risked a glance at her as he pulled onto the main street. “And about you.”

  ***

  Bree settled back into the soft leather seats as she mulled over Derek’s statement. “Am I that big a mystery? I thought you said you knew women like me.”

  He visibly winced. “Yes, I did say that.”

  She gave a deep nod. “I believe you added that you’ve had women like me?”

  “Look, I said I was a dick. Can we leave it at that?”

  She laughed a little. “Sounds about right to me.”

  He shot her a challenging look, and faced front again. He was dressed casually today, like he had been that night he’d walked over to make his apology. Worn jeans, sneakers, and a soft-looking long-sleeved T in moss green. The sleeves were pushed up, and she couldn’t help but gaze at his strong arms again. This was Derek Stone. Prickly, stick-up-his-butt Derek Stone.

  She told herself she’d forgotten how those arms had felt around her. Convinced herself that she’d put their kiss out of her mind. But his scent surrounded her in the closed truck cab, and all of those memories wound around her. Judging by the stupid flutter in her pulse, she hadn’t forgotten a thing.

  “I never would have taken Eli for a truck guy,” he said after a while.

  “Nobody was more surprised than Caro when her husband bought this truck,” she said. “Eli jumped into life at Cypress with both feet.”

  Derek nodded. “Seems like he did.”

  “That’s what you want, I think. To jump into life here.”

  A quick turn of his head in her direction showed her his brows were drawn together before smoothing into his usual cool expression. “Why do you say that?”

  “You put in an offer on the first house you saw, Derek.”

  “I put in an offer on the first house you showed me, Bree. I’d already searched the database for everything that was available and settled on that one before we’d even climbed into the golf cart.”

  “You did?”

  He shrugged one of those broad shoulders of his. “Due diligence.”

  That was the second time he’d mentioned those words. “Okay, Due Diligence.”

  “Please don’t call me that,” he said with a chuckle.

  “All right, then. Boston.”

  He shook his head. “Not that either, please.”

  “But you are so Boston.”

  “What does that even mean? Eli is from there too, you know.”

  “Yeah, but Eli is from the city part. The Chapman part.”

  “And me?”

  “You’re from the older part, I think. The big houses near the water part.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

  She nodded. They didn’t speak much after that little exchange, except for her to give him directions to the storage place. It was just north of Orlando, so the drive took them nearly an hour. He parked the truck in front of the unit she indicated.

  Staring at the corrugated metal door, she slowly took in a breath. Her heart was hammering now, and this time it had nothing to do with the guy sitting next to her in the truck.

  “What’s wrong?” Derek asked.

  She turned with a jerk. “Um, nothing. I guess I’m just wondering what my grandmother left me.”

  He pulled the keys out of the ignition and sat back. “Only one way to find out.”

  She rubbed her palms over her thighs. “Okay, Due Diligence. Let’s go.”

  He shook his head at the nickname but his smile was unexpected. They both got out of the truck and stood in front of the door of the unit.

  “This is one of the big ones,” he said. “Do you need to check in at the office or anything?”

  “No.” She reached into her bag and withdrew the key. It dangled from a fuzzy purple tassel that was so Grandmother. “
I’ve been hanging on to this for a while.”

  Her hand shook a little as she grasped the thick metal lock.

  “Here, let me.” Derek held the lock while she fit the key into it. “Is it stuck?”

  She wiggled it a little and it scraped home. Derek held the lock tight as it popped open. Her stomach tumbled as she stepped back from the lock.

  Derek gave her a curious look and reached down to grab the door handle near the ground. “Ready?”

  Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she gave a shaky nod. With a groan and a grinding of metal on metal, the door rumbled up and overhead. With a flick of the switch just inside the space, fluorescent lights illuminated the unit.

  “Whoa.”

  Derek’s one-word exclamation echoed her very thoughts. The unit was stacked to the ceiling with boxes and wrapped paintings and mirrors. As she ran her gaze over the contents she recognized a few of the pieces of furniture neatly fit against each other. Trunks filled with goodness knew what, crates and more boxes, and lamps and artwork all demanded her attention. It was a little overwhelming.

  “I guess I’d better get started,” she said.

  “I’m your muscle today, Bree.”

  That made her smile a little. “Brains and brawn, huh? Are you sure?”

  “Hey, I work out. I even hit the trails this morning.”

  “Okay, okay.” She placed her hands on her hips and stared at the neatly-arranged puzzle of possessions. “Let’s dig in.”

  Derek moved the larger pieces out of the way and she debated over which ones to take back to her house. She pointed out a few of the lamps, both very deco and done in a brass that had gone dark with age. The shades were thick glass and in shades of rose and plum.

  “Those are…different,” Derek said.

  “Those are heirlooms, my friend. My great, great grandmother’s.” She saw that the bed of Eli’s truck was lined with gray quilted moving blankets. “Where did you get those?”

  “I thought you might need them so I went to the office while you were digging through those boxes.”

  He’d obviously meant the crates of dishes and crystal. Her house wasn’t ornate in any way shape or form, but having a few quality pieces that reminded her of her grandmother would be very welcome.

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded and lifted the floor lamps and one of the large mirrors she’d unearthed. “You can’t possibly mean to take all of this today.”

  She laughed a little. “Maybe if I bought your new house it might fit, but no. I would like a few pieces to start fitting my old life into my new one, though.”

  He set the items carefully in the truck and straightened. “Your old life?”

  Oops, she’d said too much. There would be questions. Guys always asked questions. What was it like growing up in Heathrow with a wealthy family? What was her father like? How much is he worth? Why don’t you work for your family’s business? Like she would ever go into insurance. Yes, she sold Cypress Corners like nobody’s business, but she wasn’t selling a product that was only worth something when the buyer was gone. No. She was selling a way of life, and a way to live it to the fullest with the people they loved.

  She hardly ever saw her parents, outside of over-the-top holiday parties where she was summoned to attend. She preferred to think that she’d sprung from the earth fully formed at the age of twenty-five, but she had ties to her family that no amount of time or space would loosen.

  “Sorry, just thinking out loud.”

  He smirked at her and she could help but smile. It wasn’t just the expression that looked so out of place, though. No. His hair was mussed and his chiseled cheeks were streaked with grime and dust.

  “What are you staring at?” he asked.

  “Do I look as funny as you do?”

  He jumped down from the truck bed and looked down at himself, brushing at his rumpled and dusty clothes. “I think the word you’re looking for is dirty.”

  She didn’t think he meant to sound seductive, but her silly body sure took it that way. When his gaze traveled over the front of her equally-filthy clothes she couldn’t stop herself from reacting physically. Her nipples tightened and her pulse raced.

  “Derek.” Her voice sounded reedy but she attributed that to the dust floating around them. “Don’t.”

  He stepped closer. “Don’t what?”

  Retreating into the storage unit, she backed up until she was pressed against her grandmother’s heavy mahogany hope chest. “Don’t kiss me.”

  He came really close to her, staring down at her with dark eyes. “What makes you think I’m going to kiss you?”

  She licked her lips and watched as his parted on a soft curse. “You’re looking at me like you want to.”

  He gave a slow nod. “Ah, I want to.”

  “You do?” That breathiness was in her voice again.

  “But I don’t want another slap.”

  Would she slap him? No. “I didn’t slap you because you kissed me.”

  “True.”

  “Maybe I won’t if you kiss me again.”

  His brows arched and a slow smile curved his lips. “No?”

  She corralled her meager strength against his appeal and placed her hand in the middle of his very strong chest. “I said maybe.”

  “Looks like I’ll have to do my due diligence.”

  “How?”

  “Research, Bree.”

  A rush of lust crashed over her. “Research.”

  “I’ll keep you posted on my progress.”

  His words were so starchy and completely at odds with the soft and sensual expression on his face that she couldn’t help but laugh. He joined her, the sound low and rumbly.

  “Now quit stalling,” he said. “We have work to do.”

  She pushed away from the chest and straightened, coming within a hairsbreadth of the pecs beneath her palm. “Work now.” She couldn’t resist giving him a pat. “Research later.”

  Chapter 6

  Derek groaned and his whole body stiffened for a hot minute. “There’s a challenge there.”

  She shrugged, her blue eyes sparkling. God, she was a puzzle. Holding his hands up, he stepped back from her. His chest itched where her hand had just been, and he refrained from running his own down the front of himself.

  “Then let’s get a move on,” he added.

  She turned and bent down to open the chest behind her. He looked at her ass for a while, he was a guy and she had a great ass, before heading over to the opened crates of dishes and stuff.

  “So do you want to bring all of these dishes back to your house?”

  “Yes, please,” she said absently. “I’ll go through the crates back at my house. We can stash them in my garage.”

  The crates were filled with that excelsior stuff that was like shredded wood or paper. She’d pulled some of it out and a few of the plates were jumbled.

  “For somebody so OCD you sure left a mess in here.”

  “OCD?” She tilted her head, her ponytail slipping to one side. “Are you calling me anal?”

  “It’s just that you’re usually so put together.” He ran his gaze over her smudged clothes and the excelsior tangled in her hair. “Although, right now? Not so much.”

  Her cheeks flushed as pink as her shirt sleeves. “I’m a working girl. Or did you not pick up on that, Due Diligence?”

  He’d stuck his foot in it, apparently, but he wasn’t quite sure how. He sure didn’t want her pissed at him. Again.

  “I know you work hard, Bree. I just meant that you always look so pressed and proper.”

  One pale brow arched and her full lips pursed. “Pressed and proper? You’ve been watching too much PBS.”

  He laughed at that. Actually, he realized he laughed more around her over the past few days than he’d laughed over the past year.

  “I come from Bah-ston, as you said. I know proper.”

  She leaned against the open chest and crossed her arms. “Yes, you have that
written all over you. What, exactly, is your background?”

  “Nope. I’m not telling you mine until you tell me yours.”

  “And that is so not happening.”

  “You, Bree James, are a woman with a past.”

  That made her smile. “You can’t get it out of me, counselor.”

  He mirrored her stance. “I’m willing to bet you’d break on the cross.”

  “And tell you everything? Keep dreaming.”

  “Another challenge?”

  She ran her hands over her hair and took a breath. “You’re a little infuriating, do you know that?”

  “Honestly, no one has ever called me that before.”

  “That is surprising.”

  “I’ll let you have that one.”

  “Giving me the point?”

  “Is this a game?”

  Her gaze ran over him and he felt it like a long, slow stroke. His jeans grew a little tight but his untucked shirt probably hid any evidence that might incriminate him.

  “I don’t play, Derek. Ever.”

  “Now that is a shame.”

  They worked in relative silence after that little exchange. He got her to agree to let him buy lunch, and they shared a meal of drive-through burgers and fries. After that, Derek just did whatever she instructed. Move this. Open that. Tote that barge, lift that bale. He smiled to himself as yet another nautical reference clanged through his brain. Back when he’d first learned to sail, he had the most fun going out with his uncle Jackson.

  His mother’s brother was a lot of laughs, and one of the reasons Derek liked him so much was that the man was nothing like his father. He came from as much privilege and money as Eddie but he wore it like a comfortable sweater instead of a straightjacket. It was only after Eddie had heard Derek praising him one too many times that he’d taken over Derek’s tutelage. That was a dark day, as far as he was concerned. Derek had been about eight years old.

  Eddie was no teacher. He was a taskmaster. A tyrant. He would make Derek do a task over and over until he got it right, using verbal and sometimes physical abuse to get his particular points across.

  Derek brushed the dust off of his palms and glanced down at his hands. His skin still bore the scars of Eddie’s lessons. He’d lost count of how many times he’d coiled and uncoiled the ropes on that day. The cold, rain-slick hemp had sliced at his small hands but Eddie hadn’t cared. His tender palms had blistered, scabbed, and split again and again.