Broken Ground: (Broken Series Book 1)

by Anna Paige

  "Sounds like heaven. Bring it on," she chuckled.

  "You may regret saying that," I warned. "I'd invest in a good set of ear plugs if I were you."

  She chuckled and handed me a stack of papers from her purse, along with a set of keys. "Your accommodations are ready. I know you don't check in until the weekend, but the place wasn't rented to anyone and is open this week so I went ahead and snagged the key for you." Her expression went from informal and easy to business in an instant. It was kind of hot. She cleared her throat and nodded to the papers in my hand. "The lease is up the first week of September but can be extended, if necessary. And all the amenities Spencer suggested are included; both indoor and outdoor pools, two floors in addition to the basement where the pool is located, etcetera. The only thing it doesn't have is separate living rooms and kitchens for each floor, but Spencer indicated those requests weren't deal breakers. All the other info is in the paperwork. If there's any problem, give me a call. My cell number is on the front of the first page."

  I thanked her and half-heartedly skimmed the pages before folding them and placing them in my back pocket, slipping the keys in the front.

  Satisfied that I had no questions, she gestured to the willow, slipping back into the easy, relaxed version of herself in the span of a heartbeat. "I don't think I've ever seen a weeping willow of that size before. The way the limbs almost touch the ground is spectacular. I wonder how old it is."

  "Twenty years." I answered automatically, realizing too late that I was opening a conversation I didn't want to have. I still hadn't fully recovered from the shock of discovering it, though, and the idea of sharing the tree's origins was appealing. "I'm actually surprised to find it here. When it was a sapling, it was severely damaged and no one thought it would survive. It was kicked and stomped repeatedly by a hateful little jackass who then decided to use it as a wishbone and basically ripped it in half before leaving it on the ground to rot." It was surprisingly freeing to talk about it, even if Ali had no idea I was talking about myself.

  She cocked her head at me quizzically as if to ask how I knew.

  I dismissed the look with a simple, "I know the owner. Some asshole kid — excuse my language — stomped it and kicked it, then split it in two when it was just a sapling. The owner thought it died."

  "I can see the resilience in its stance, it's proud, regal; a survivor." She nodded to herself and studied the tree for a moment before sweeping her gaze across the lake, a soft smile on her face. "I can't wait to set up my easel. This place is gorgeous and that tree is going to be a great focal point."

  "Easel?"

  "Didn't Spencer mention anything to you about me doing some painting on weekends or non-work days?"

  After a moment of confusion, I laughed when I realized what happened. "He did mention something but wasn't clear enough, apparently. I thought you were going to be donning a roller on occasion to help out with the interior."

  She giggled softly, the sound of it was far too pleasing to my ear. "I'm not that kind of painter, usually, but I'm not opposed to helping out."

  "I'm sure that won't be necessary but thank you for the offer." I considered a moment and told her, "Most weekends will be quiet around here, you can paint then. I'll be here a lot myself working on various projects, so you won't be out here totally alone. That's probably best given the possibility of bear activity."

  "You really think bears are going to be coming around with all the construction noise?" She sounded doubtful. I couldn't read her expression because of the sunglasses.

  I nodded emphatically. "Oh yeah. Remember, there won't be much noise on days the crews aren't here, so that's when it's most likely they would come around. They're curious by nature and for the last twenty years, they've had the run of the property. It's a very real concern. So much so that we are using reinforced shatterproof glass in all the first floor windows and doors. No one wants Yogi bear busting in on dinner, you know what I mean?"

  Her smile was beautiful, full soft lips that had curved upward as I spoke. "I can see why that would be a problem. I hear they have really shitty table manners."

  I laughed involuntarily at her joke and the language. She was going to fit right in, I could tell.

  I gave her a quick walking tour of the property, or at least the few acres that were cleared and of interest to us. There were over two hundred acres total, with all but ten being wooded. There were several small creeks and ponds way in back and an underground spring that fed the lake.

  Ali continued to marvel at the beauty of the place and I found myself envying her lack of familiarity with the property. She could look at it and see it for what it was, not what it represented.

  I saw half a house standing tribute to half a life.

  She saw possibility for rebirth.

  I saw pain and loss.

  She saw hope and beauty.

  Maybe, with a lot of time and a little luck, I could find a way to see things through her eyes.

  WE WERE WALKING back to where we'd parked when she asked a question that gave me pause.

  "So, this place belongs to Spencer's family?"

  I stopped walking and furrowed my brow, causing my sunglasses to shift higher on my nose. "No. Why would you think that?"

  "When he and I talked, he kept referring to the property owner as Gran, I just assumed it was his grandmother." She mirrored my expression, her brows scrunching up behind the rims of her dark glasses.

  Ah, now I get it.

  I chuckled and resumed walking, giving her as much of the truth as I was comfortable sharing. "Everyone calls her that. Well, everyone below retirement age anyway. She used to be our hometown's favorite source for childcare. Most of the kids spent time in her care, at one time or another. She called all of us her 'babies' and we all called her Gran, at her request. Over the years, as we all grew up, we still called her that and eventually, so did everyone else. Even Vanessa, her daughter, usually refers to her as Gran. Trust me, you'll see her around here this summer and she'll expect you to call her that, too. Might as well resign yourself to it now."

  Ali laughed softly and matched my unhurried pace. "So you and Spencer grew up together?"

  "I'm not sure we're all that grown up but we've known each other since we were ten. Actually, we met at Gran's when he moved to our neighborhood and became one of her babies, too."

  "That sounds like me and Talia. She's my best friend since we were eight. We're basically inseparable. She even came with me to help out for the summer, dividing her time between D.C. and Denson. She owns a restaurant in the city so she stays in our apartment in D.C. half the week. She's there from Thursday afternoon until Sunday afternoon to handle the weekend rush, then comes back here to help out at the diner the rest of the week. We have a small apartment here in Denson to eliminate the need for constant commuting."

  "Diner?''

  We drew closer to our vehicles but I stopped in the shade given off by the sagging porch, hesitant to end our time together.

  She stepped into the shade beside me and nodded. "Yeah. My friend and his wife own two small businesses in the area. The realty office, which is where I met Spencer, and the cutest little retro diner two blocks over. My ailing friend, Teach, runs the diner, and his wife, Marilee, runs the office."

  She reached down to pluck up a buttercup, a wistful expression on her face. "Teach was my favorite college professor. English Lit. Technically, the course wasn't necessary for my degree but I took it anyway because my inner book nerd wouldn't allow anything else." She absently fidgeted with her necklace, a book-shaped locket that caught the light and set her cheeks aglow from the reflection. The letter A was engraved in the golden cover. "Anyway, we bonded over our mutual love of all things book related and kept in close contact over the years. He's sort of like an adopted grandfather, much like Gran probably is to you."

  I nodded in agreement but said nothing, content to enjoy the melodic sound of her voice.

  "When Marilee called to tell me abo
ut Teach's stroke, she was a wreck. On top of her worry for Teach, she had to find a way to keep both businesses going in their absence. I told her I had it covered and to focus on Teach, not the diner or the office."

  I couldn't help but be impressed with her. "So, you took a leave of absence from a lucrative position in the city to come here to the middle of nowhere and help out a friend? Damn, we should all have friends like that."

  "No. We should all be friends like that." She corrected absently. "And don't nominate me for sainthood just yet. My motives aren't entirely altruistic. I needed the break."

  She reached up and removed her sunglasses, using the corner of her top to polish away a smudge. When she lifted her eyes to mine, I was stunned silent.

  Her eyes were a brilliant, fluid green that seemed unnaturally clear, startlingly so.

  And familiar.

  A wave of dejá vu rolled over me, washing away the question that had been poised on my tongue. All I saw was that familiar green. I frantically searched my memory for the source of the feeling but came up empty. After a moment, I removed my sunglasses, as if it would somehow help me make the connection. It didn't.

  I knew this woman from somewhere.

  But for the life of me I could not recall where.

  And why was she looking at me like she recognized me, too?

  Ali's gaze locked on mine for a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in a slow uneven breath, my sudden hyper-awareness of her was almost enough to allow me to count every molecule of air she drew in.

  It was an odd sensation to stand there that way, speechless and unbalanced, unable to recall those eyes, that face, but knowing she'd crossed my path before.

  For the first time since my arrival at the property, my surroundings had no impact whatsoever on me.

  I was too busy reeling from the impact of her eyes on mine.

  She managed to recover first, slipping her glasses back on and saying exactly what I was thinking, "Why do I feel like I know you from somewhere?"

  Finding my voice took a couple of tries, the barren desert that was once my mouth thwarting my attempts. When I finally pushed past it, I shrugged. "I thought the same thing but I have no idea where we would have met. Maybe I just have one of those faces."

  "No. That's the problem. Your face isn't one I'd be likely to forget." Her cheeks flamed red, and she stammered a bit, obviously wishing she hadn't said that. It was rather adorable. "What I meant was that I didn't recognize your face, per se. There was just something about you that gave me the feeling of déjà vu. I felt it even before you took off the glasses." She leaned forward slightly, studying me. "Is your hair naturally blond or is it lighter right now because you spend so much time outside?" I could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind, imagining it darker or shorter or longer... anything to help jog her memory.

  I absently ran a hand over my hair, its length perfect for looking messy and not much else. "Nope, natural blond here, although it does get lighter in the summer months. It's usually what most people refer to as dirty blond, which sounds kind of unhygienic."

  She laughed softly.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if she'd spent much time in the bars around Richmond, but I bit it back. She wasn't one of my conquests. Of that, I was sure. "Maybe it will come to us after we've spent some time together. We have the whole summer to figure it out." She nodded in agreement, and I gave her my most charming smile, thinking that there was an awful lot we could discover about each other over the next couple of months. For instance, was she a screamer? A moaner? Hmm...

  Stop screwing around, stupid, before you end up losing your company.

  No. Fucking. The. Employees.

  I needed to get out of there before I fantasized myself into a hard-on.

  "Well," I told her, "I need to get going. I have a few things to take care of back in Richmond before this weekend but I should be back Saturday night, if you want to get a little painting done on Sunday before the work starts next week." Much as I wanted to get away right that moment, I also wanted to see her again as soon as possible.

  Not a good sign.

  Her natural expression seemed to be a soft smile. At the mention of getting to paint, it widened into an excited grin. "I'd love that. I have to go berry picking for the restaurant that morning but I can be here after lunch. Talia and I have had to add a second trip to pick strawberries each week because her desserts sell out so fast."

  "I thought you said she wouldn't be back until that afternoon, are you going alone?"

  "Yeah but I don't mind. The owners encourage a bit of sampling and I get to soak up some sun before the heat gets too unbearable. Plus, my Jeep barely has enough room for the flats of berries, so no one else would fit."

  I pointed toward our vehicles. "My truck is a crew cab. Between the floorboard, back seats, and bed, you could haul enough berries to feed an army." Shit. Why did I say that?

  She tilted her head, her perpetual smile joined by a quizzical look half-hidden by her shades. "So, is that an invitation to borrow your truck or an offer to help pick?"

  I chuckled lightly. "Well, I suppose it's an offer to help since I'm the only one who drives my truck. Don't feel like you have to accept, though, if you'd rather go alone."

  Her smile slipped a little but her voice was laced with excitement. "No, I appreciate the offer. I spend plenty of time alone as it is. If you really don't mind, I'd be happy to have the help. The strawberry patch isn't too far and it won't take very long with the both of us picking."

  "I don't mind at all. Actually, I'm looking forward to it." I didn't really care about the activity — I was looking forward to spending time with her.

  Yeah, this was bad.

  Richmond

  Friday Night

  I MADE MY WAY past the substantial line outside the club on my way to the VIP entrance, taking in a deep lungful of the warm night air. I needed this, needed a few hours to unwind and shake off some of the stifling tension that had been dragging me under these last few weeks. There was a potent mixture of expensive bottled fragrance mixing with just the slightest hint of desperation wafting off of the crowd impatiently waiting to gain entry.

  I strode through the doorway, nodding to the bouncer who gave a curt tip of his head and returned to glaring at the throng.

  If any of them knew him, really knew him as I did, they'd stop their bitching before things got ugly. He'd only remain stoic for so long.

  Trying not to get jostled by all the people on the dance floor, I slid through gaps in the thrashing bodies and gave apologetic smiles as I accidentally bumped a few people. Eventually, the VIP section came into sight. We always met here at Haven — the hottest club in town and a favorite of ours because we helped design it — to celebrate the completion of a job. We'd tied up all the loose ends on the Windemere job that week and would kick off the next week with new projects.

  I was an hour late for our celebratory meeting, but it couldn't be helped. Well, I probably could have rushed through my afternoon with Nicole but I was having a little pre–celebration, celebration, and she was down for anything.

  Nicole had been my friend with benefits for the last several months; a willing outlet for my sexual energies with no romantic entanglements to worry about. It was a perfect arrangement. No man in his right fucking mind would have walked away from her before he'd had his fill. That day or any day. The guys would understand.

  Unless I told them the truth. Which would never happen.

  The truth was while I was balls-deep in Nicole, all I was thinking of was Ali.

  Ali. A woman I'd only met a couple of days before. The stranger with familiar green eyes. Yeah, they probably wouldn't understand my fascination. Shit, I didn't understand it myself, but I couldn't get her out of my mind.

  I'd given it a shot, several shots, with Nicole that afternoon to try to get Ali out of my head. I'd discovered that a body under me wouldn't do a damn bit of good unless i
t was Ali's.

  I was fairly sure Nicole and I had just had our last hook-up. It just wasn't working now that my mind was on another woman. I'd actually left more frustrated than when I started. She'd felt it, too. The time had come to call it a loss and go our separate ways. No harm. No foul.

  Spotting my partners in the far corner service area, I started in that direction as a hand snaked around from behind me and landed on my ribcage. A pair of unnaturally firm breasts pressed into my back. "Babe, I haven't seen those amber eyes in forever. It's been way too long." The familiar voice was enough to make my balls shrivel.

  Fuck. Just what I need.

  I took a steadying breath and turned, a fake smile plastered on my face. "Jessica, how are you?" I politely asked as I took a step back to separate myself. I wasn't at all interested in how she was doing as I looked toward Spencer and Brant in desperation, hoping that one of them would bail me out. Dammit, they were too busy talking to even realize I was there. I was on my own.

  So much for wingmen.

  She leaned into me and began running her hand up and down my chest, her long acrylic nails leaving little marks on the fabric of my shirt, working their way lower with each pass. She was talking, but all I could focus on was getting the hell away from her. Our casual hook-ups had ended over a year ago, but she always forgot that after a few drinks.

  We'd had fun for a while, but it fizzled out quickly, at least on my end. Her propensity for calling me 'amber eyes' was just one of the things that had eventually turned me off. Having my eyes described as 'amber' or 'amber and jade' drove me crazy. It was bad enough having to call them hazel. Always reminded me of the damn wiry-haired witch in the old Bugs Bunny cartoons.

  There was nothing more effective at deflating an erection than naming a part, any part, of a man's anatomy after a woman. It was just one of those things.

  I interrupted her whiny reply, which included something about being terribly bored and wishing I'd call her sometime, when I apologetically said, "Work is keeping me super busy. I'm actually here for a business meeting, and I'm already late. Have a good night. Hope you find what you're looking for." I flashed a smile and backed away before she had a chance to latch on again. Feeling like someone was staring daggers into my back, which I knew damn well she was, I hurried over to the booth that was already stocked with my favorite Kentucky Bourbon.