Annie blinked when Mr. Smiley’s lips actually moved. Before he lost his sudden sense of humor, she jumped on her bike and pedaled across the asphalt parking lot. She guessed there probably weren’t too many times when he had to guard a ten-year-old bicycle.
She leaned her bike against the red brick exterior and turned back to the guard. He lifted his hand and waved, so she waved back and went inside. The huge glass doors slid open silently, then closed behind her.
Dylan’s boss didn’t believe in budget renovations. A beautiful walnut staircase had been polished to a fine sheen. The reception desk, made from some kind of marble, dominated one wall. She could have been looking at an expensive hotel lobby, or an exclusive resort. Definitely not the reception area of a security company.
Annie glanced at the sparkling chandelier above the staircase. It was opulent, exquisite and a glamorous addition to the building. She’d thought all of the talk about what was going on inside the old flour mill was pure make-believe. John Fletcher had been turned into a modern day Howard Hughes by half the town, a mystery man hidden behind the walls of his empire. She was beginning to think that what she’d heard wasn’t far from the truth.
“Annie?” Dylan walked toward her with a frown on his face. “Is everything okay?”
She looked at the suit he was wearing. The deep blue fabric clung to his wide shoulders and narrow hips like a second skin. A very expensive second skin. “You changed clothes?”
Dylan looked down at his suit. “I had a business meeting. Jeans and a t-shirt wouldn’t have worked. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just…” She looked at the chandelier, tried to find something that would focus her brain on why she was here. “I was thinking about what you said earlier, about choosing paint for your living room. I’ll help you.”
“But I don’t know if I’m going to stay there.”
She took a deep breath. “I could go with you when you look at houses? We could figure out what you want, narrow your search.” Dylan was making her nervous. He stood perfectly still, watching her face with an intensity she found unsettling. “If you don’t want my help, just tell me. I’ve got a habit of getting involved in things that aren’t my business. I like helping people. I could help you.”
Annie’s clasped her hands in front of her. When she got nervous, she tended to flick her hands around like a demented bird. Her ex-husband had called it a nervous twitch, she preferred to say she had expressive body language.
Dylan crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Okay.”
Annie waited for him to say something else. Nothing happened. “Well, then. Okay, it is. When do you want me to come to your house?”
“My house?”
“I can bring some color samples around. We could look at some options in case you decide to stay. After we’ve done that we could look online and find out what houses are for sale.”
“You’re organized.” Dylan said those two words like she had a disease.
Annie felt the heat of a blush warm her face. “Am I going too fast? I have a habit of that, too.”
“I don’t mind. I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“I thought about it. I figured you wouldn’t have asked unless you were desperate…”
Dylan’s eyebrows rose about a foot off his face.
“…not that I think you’re desperate or anything. Because I don’t. I think you’re very capable and intelligent and…” Annie shut her mouth before she got herself into more trouble.
“Do you want to come around tomorrow night?”
“Umm, okay. I’ve got bowling practice at five-thirty. I could be at your place by seven?”
“Seven works. Do you need dinner or anything?”
Annie shook her head. “I’ll grab something before I go to the bowling alley.” She held her hand out, then dropped it when she realized what she’d done. “I guess I’ll just…I’ll go.”
Dylan uncrossed his arms and stuck a hand out toward her.
She got such a shock that she stared at his hand for a split second before her own fingers clasped his. “It’s a deal, then. Tomorrow night at seven.”
Their handshake was over before it began, but the feel of Dylan’s fingers on her skin stayed with her all the way to her bike. And when he watched her pedal out of the parking lot, she felt the same zing of chemistry between her shoulder blades.
Dylan Bayliss was a mystery, and her reaction to him was an even greater mystery. After five years of not wanting to date anyone, she was ready to find someone special. But it wouldn’t be Dylan. He might have sent her zing rating off the meter, but he scared her senseless. When she was ready, the man in question would be undemanding, safe and happy.
Everything Dylan Bayliss wasn’t.
Chapter Three
Dylan glanced at the clock on the wall in his living room. It was seven o’clock. Annie would be here soon. He’d made sure the dishes were done, the floors were vacuumed and everything looked as good as it was going to get. He’d even unpacked another box and found some books he’d thought he’d lost.
The evening sun filled the room with a soft pink glow. It could have been color coordinated to match his orange walls and pink curtains. Maybe that’s where the owners had found their inspiration for their odd color choice. Or maybe the curtains and paint had been on sale.
He took a deep breath. His mind was rambling, filling in the waiting with fluffy nonsense that didn’t make any difference. Annie would help him choose a paint color, look at a couple of websites and then leave. He knew she was uncomfortable around him. She’d practically run out the door of Fletcher Security after they’d shaken hands.
If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her small hand inside his. She wasn’t the tallest woman he’d ever met, but she was perfectly formed. From the dusting of freckles across her nose, to the tips of the purple sneakers she liked wearing, Annie O’Leary was your typical girl next door. She was wholesome, uncomplicated and far too trusting to spend time with him.
She was the last person he should ask to help him with his touching issue, but the first person he’d thought of. The only person he’d thought of.
The doorbell rang and he jumped out of the sofa. He wiped his hands down the sides of his jeans and took another deep breath before opening the door. Annie stared at him. Her blue eyes looked as wary as he felt.
“I was worried you might have gotten lost.” He cringed at his lame greeting. He could have simply said, ‘hello’. Normal people who had normal relationships said hello.
“Logan came to see Tess this afternoon. I asked him for directions.”
It was worse than Dylan thought. Logan would put two and two together and come up with ten. “Did he tell you to stay away from me?”
“He said you’re perfectly safe.” Her lips tilted into a grin. “I’m supposed to cook you apple and cinnamon pancakes if you start getting grumpy.”
Jeez. Logan made him sound like a pushover for food. “I’m a grump free zone tonight.”
“Good. Do you want me to come inside?”
Dylan stepped out of the doorway and collided with a small table. The framed photo of his sisters wobbled on the wooden surface. He grabbed the picture before it hit the floor and made him feel like a complete idiot.
Annie ignored the klutz in front of her. She stepped into the hallway and looked around. “I like your home.”
“It’s mostly an American bungalow design with a nineteen eighties extension out the back.” He looked at her green jacket and didn’t know whether to ask her if she wanted him to hang it up. This woman-in-his-house thing was really stressing him out.
“Is it okay if I go through to the living room?”
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Annie O’Leary knew exactly how he felt. She was leading him in baby steps through what needed to be done. And looking at the living room walls seemed like an obvious place to start. After coming inside.
He pointed toward a door o
n the right-hand side of the hallway. “Sure. Go through there.”
He followed Annie, grabbing hold of her jacket when she passed it to him. She left her bag beside the coffee table and walked across to the French doors. “What an amazing view.”
He hung her jacket over the back of a chair and followed her gaze. “It’s even better in daylight. The mountains roll into forever out here.”
Annie smiled. “I didn’t know there was a poet buried inside you.”
Dylan looked at the mountains, embarrassed for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand.
Annie walked over to one of his pink curtains and tilted her head to the side. “These aren’t so bad. I can see why you want to keep them.” She looked around the room, weighing up what she saw, with what could be.
“Let’s get started.” Annie’s gaze did a final sweep of the room. “I brought some paint charts with me. Tell me what you do in this room.”
“Is that a trick question?”
Annie unzipped her bag and pulled out a handful of brochures, something that looked like a color wheel and a bag of fudge. “No trick involved. What do you do in here?”
“The same as everyone else. I watch TV, listen to music, read books.” He glanced down at the bag of fudge. It was from a local company.
Annie caught him peering at the bag. “It’s wild huckleberry fudge. Try it.”
She pushed the bag closer. Sugary fudge was the last thing he needed at seven o’clock at night. He’d be awake half the night, sleeping even less than he normally did. He looked at the bag again. They were only small pieces, and they had fruit in them. The huckleberries had to offset some of the sugar.
“It’s the best fudge I’ve ever tasted. The store has the yummiest chocolate treats, too. Have you ever been to the Sweet and Salty Candy Store?”
Dylan shook his head. “I try and keep away from sugar.”
Annie opened the bag and held the fudge toward him. “I guarantee that once you taste this, you’ll be visiting the store next time you’re in town.”
That’s what Dylan was worried about. He could stay away from coffee, keep his red meat to a minimum and exercise like crazy. But wave something sweet under his nose and he was a goner.
Annie took a piece of fudge out of the bag and bit into it. “Yum. Are you sure you don’t want a piece?”
“Why didn’t you bring fruit or something?”
Annie laughed. “I only take fruit to people who are sick. Go on, one small square won’t hurt you.”
She passed him the bag. He chose the smallest piece of fudge he could find and bit into it. The soft, fruity confectionery melted in his mouth. Annie was right. It was the best fudge he’d ever tasted.
“I’m leading you astray, aren’t I?”
Dylan looked down at the bag. “Only if you keep offering me more fudge.” He sighed as he handed her back the bag. “I’m now officially a sugar-free zone for the rest of the night.”
Annie dropped the fudge into her bag and opened the paint samples. “It’s not the best time to look at colors, but it will give me an idea of what you like. If you end up buying another home, you can use what you’ve learned to choose your own colors.”
Her logic made sense to him, so he sat beside her and waited to be dazzled by her brilliance.
Annie pointed to the colors along the top of the chart. “Do you want the living room to be bold and sassy, or calm and serene?”
Dylan looked at his orange walls and frowned. “I’d say I’ve got bold and sassy now. How about we go for something calmer?”
“Okay.” She picked up her color wheel and pointed to a red square. “A color wheel is based on the primary colors of red, blue and yellow. The other colors are all secondary colors. Colors on opposite sides of the wheel complement each other.” She stood up and walked across to his curtains. After a couple of seconds, she walked back to the sofa. “Your curtains are close to this shade of pink.”
Dylan looked at the color on the opposite side of the wheel. “Green?”
“Don’t sound so worried. We’re not painting your walls bright green, but it would be a really good color for accessories. It would lessen the impact of the pink and make it blend into the room more.”
“I don’t have a lot of accessories.”
Annie looked around the room. “But you could have. All you’d need to buy is a few cushions with a touch of bright green and pink in them. You could have a green bowl on the coffee table, a vase of flowers on the cabinet in the corner.”
Dylan looked back down at the color chart. “So what color do I paint my walls?”
“I think we should stick with a neutral color, maybe something with a very slight tint of green. It would work with your brown leather sofa and chairs.” She hunted through her paint samples and passed him one. “Look at these.”
Dylan opened the chart and glanced at the colors. “They’re all the same.”
Annie moved closer. Her arm brushed against his and he nearly dropped the brochure. “The colors in this column have green bases, the ones beside them have brown and the ones beside your hand have black bases.”
She leaned into his arm, pointing at some colors. She was totally oblivious to the panic racing through him.
“The further down the column you go, the less color you can see, but it’s there all the same.” She looked into his eyes and frowned. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t want to move away, but if he didn’t do something soon, he’d pass out from oxygen deprivation.
Annie looked at where her arm was resting and moved away from him. He took a deep breath, and then another to clear the fuzzy dots from in front of his eyes.
“Does this happen often?” she asked.
Dylan dropped the color chart on the table. Annie was waiting for him to say something, only he didn’t know where to begin.
“I’ve noticed that you don’t like being touched. I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I need to get used to it.”
Annie frowned. “What happened?”
Dylan walked across the room to his laptop. “I was in the Army. I was captured by the Taliban and it screwed me up.” He held the laptop so tight that his knuckles turned white. “I looked on the Internet and saved some pictures of interiors I like. Do you want to see them?”
“Sure.” Annie looked uncertainly at him.
He sat on the edge of the chair opposite her and opened his laptop. “These homes are all the same vintage as this one.” He clicked on a folder and set the images up as a slide show. “What do you think?”
He turned the laptop around and Annie focused on the screen.
“What do you like about them?” she asked.
“They’re functional without being over the top frilly. I even like the cushions and rugs.” He took a deep breath and tried to relax. He knew the photos would probably surprise her. She thought he was a security guard who didn’t have a clue about interior design. She was right about the security guard part, but he did know what he liked. And even with all of his hang-ups and issues, he liked Annie.
“These are lovely.” The frown on her face softened to an appreciative smile. “Most of the colors and furniture would look great in here. Is there one design that you like the best?”
Dylan stopped focusing on the freckles across Annie’s nose and looked at the laptop. He spun it around and found the two images he liked the most. “It’s a tie between these two.”
The adrenaline that had surged through his body when they’d touched had dropped to a slow trickle, so he moved back to the sofa. That didn’t mean he was ready to sit too close, but it was a start.
“Nice. Both rooms have lots of natural light coming through the windows and chunky furniture.” Annie studied the images more closely. “Can you see how they’ve made everything work by using complementary colors?”
Dylan took the color wheel off the table. One of the interiors had pumpkin colored curtains. They’d chosen chocolate brown furniture
in their living room, too. But they’d added different shades of blue as their accessory color. Their curtains, lamps, and even their rug had hints of blue swirling between other cream and beige colors.
“You could easily create a similar look in this room.” Annie picked up the color chart and pointed to the bottom of one column. “Either of these two neutral colors with a green base would look great. Then what you do is move further up the color chart and find accessories that have hints of the same deeper shades of green in them. Does that make sense?”
Dylan nodded. “You’re telling me to layer the colors.”
“I am. If you want to add a splash of a different color, look for accessories that are either side of pink on the color wheel.” Annie picked up the color wheel. This time she didn’t touch him. “If you want to add a pop of color, you’d look for accessories in red or this pinky-purply shade.”
Dylan looked at the color wheel, then sat back and tried to visualize what his living room could look like. The orange walls made it hard to imagine it any other way. He could see how the lighter paint would open up the room and let the view of the Bridger Range become the focus. And having pale walls would make it easier to add other colors. If he decided to stay he might even go shopping, buy a few cushions and things to brighten the room up.
Annie looked at the boxes stacked in the corner of the room. “What’s stopping you from unpacking?”
Dylan sighed. “The same thing that’s messing with my brain when I look at houses with a realtor. I moved around a lot with the Army. I’m not used to saying in one place.”
“Do you like living in Bozeman?”
Dylan nodded. “In a strange way, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I wouldn’t have chosen to move here, but I like it. What about you?”
“This is my home now. I suppose I’m a bit like you. Montana’s good for me. I have great friends, two part-time jobs I enjoy and enough drama to keep things interesting.”
“Drama?”
“Milly Anderson’s running at a 250 point score average for bowls at the moment. I’m playing against her this week. It’s going to be a showdown.” The grin on her face was contagious. He smiled back and Annie’s mouth dropped open.
Loving You (The Bridesmaids Club Book 2) Page 4
