by Nan Dixon
Problem on Carleton House. Need to talk tonight. Let me know when you can get to my apartment.
What did Bess want now? His teeth ached along with his head. They hadn’t seen each other since she’d left him at his house.
He’d asked her to move in. They’d practically been living together. Then when he wanted to make it formal and told her he was falling in love—she disappeared. He slammed the nail into the joist.
Now she wanted to talk? He pounded in another nail. Bess could friggin’ wait. He had other fires to put out.
The work took another half hour. After the crew left, Nathan and Daniel stood in the living room.
“Did you check the entire list?” Daniel asked.
“Done.” Nathan handed it to him.
Daniel refused to take the paper. “This is your problem. I’m done cleaning up your messes. The inspector will be here at four. Can you at least get that right?”
Nathan tucked the paper in his pocket, shot him the finger and walked out the door.
Brotherly love.
He sent Bess a text.
Be there in 15.
He wanted to head home and down a bottle of aspirin to still the pounding in his head. Plus, Carly had been in the house since this afternoon. Who knew what kind of chaos she’d already caused.
Instead, he turned the truck up Talmadge Bridge. Oncoming headlights shot lances of pain through his eyes.
At Fitzgerald House the parking lot was full. He circled and ended up parking at Carleton House and cutting through the courtyard.
Each footstep up the stairs to her apartment was like a jackhammer drilling a trench behind his eyes. He leaned his hands against Bess’s door, inhaling and exhaling. His head throbbed. Music played, that awful new-age crap. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Bess or Carleton House right now.
He knocked.
The locks clicked and Bess opened the door. “Come on in.”
His feet dragged. Candles burned in her living room. The scent had his sinuses exploding and piling on to his headache.
“What happened?” he asked, not willing to walk any farther.
She pointed to the coffee table. It was set for dinner. Meat loaf? His mouth watered, but not in a good way.
“What is this?”
“I know how stressed you are because of your phone problems. I wanted to do something nice for you and apologize again if it was my fault. I missed you.”
He held his head. “There’s no problem at Carleton House?”
“No.” She stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss on his cheek. “I figured if I didn’t say it was work, you wouldn’t come.” She tugged on his hand. “Come eat.”
His head was going to explode. He shook her off. “I’m not hungry.”
She bit on her lip. “How about a glass of wine or a beer?”
“No. I don’t have time to play games with you.” The music and her voice ripped into his head. “I want to go home and you dragged me here by lying.”
“Play games? Lying?” Her green eyes flashed with shock. “I tried to do something nice.”
“By lying.” He couldn’t keep his voice low. He kicked the coffee table, rattling the china and silverware. “Blow out those damn candles. They’re making me sick.”
Her body jerked. “I...I...”
“Forget it.” He turned, but snapped back and faced her. “This isn’t the first time you used work to drag me someplace.”
“When did I do that?” she asked.
“When you conned me into meeting with my brother.” He threw up his hands. “Stop butting into my life.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I was trying to help you and Nathan, but you’re too stubborn to see your brother might have grown up.”
“I spent the last six hours cleaning up his mess.”
“Then stop cleaning up after him. How is he going to learn?”
“You always take his side.”
She pointed at him. “You don’t give him any respect.”
“Respect?” He paced to the kitchen, but the smells drilling holes in his head chased him back to the living room. To Bess. “You don’t respect me enough to say whether you’ll move into my house. I told you I might be in love with you and you disappeared.”
“Because you blamed me for the problems with your phone.” She moved toward him. “If it was my fault, all I can do is apologize. I’m sorry.”
He stepped back, not wanting her to touch him. “You should be. If you hadn’t touched my phone, I might have caught the fact that Nathan called for an inspection on the wrong job site. Do you know how much time I’ve lost because of you?”
Her head snapped back. “You do blame me.”
“Who else?” He tapped his fist on his forehead, adding to the already explosive pain. “Everything was under control, my life was in order. Then you danced in, broke my phone and...chaos.”
“You can’t mean that.” Bess’s face went white.
“You interfered and now I can’t get my work done.” He threw up his hands.
“I didn’t do it on purpose. You have to believe me.” She reached for him. “I love you.”
He backed away from her touch.
Three days ago he’d wanted to hear Bess tell him she loved him. Not now. He couldn’t live with the chaos her love created. “Your words are just like all of Nathan’s excuses, all his poor me justifications. They’re a ruse so you’re not responsible for your own mistakes.”
“No. I fell in love with you.” She reached for his hand. “You don’t understand—I’m trying to help.”
“You don’t understand.” He shoved her hand away. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want to be here.”
She froze. Her skin went pale. “You said you were in love with me. Now you don’t want to be around me?”
“No.” The frigging music bored so deep into his head, his hair hurt. He might throw up from the combination of meat loaf and candles.
Bess looked as if he’d kicked her. She took a deep breath. “You don’t want to be here. With me. I’m taking up too much of your precious time.”
“Bess.” He closed his eyes. Shit.
“You got your wish. You don’t have to waste time with me.” She moved to the door and threw it open. “If you have issues or questions about Carleton House, send me a text. I don’t want to see you or talk to you.”
He nodded, pain shooting through his head.
“We’re through.” Bess’s voice held a finality he’d never heard before.
* * *
BESS FUMBLED THE locks shut and slid to the floor. Her body wouldn’t stop shaking. It was over.
She’d tried to do something nice. She hadn’t lied to get him to her apartment—well, maybe it was a white lie. But she’d wanted to give him respite from his worries.
And he’d come in spitting and yelling. Accusing her of butting into his life. Blaming her for ruining everything.
He didn’t want to be with her.
She’d admitted she loved him. She should have known better.
He’d rejected her meal. Rejected her touch. Rejected her.
All the chemistry in the world couldn’t make up for the way he’d treated her. She picked up the plate of meat loaf and tossed it into the sink. The plate shattered with a crash. They were through...forever.
* * *
BESS WATERED THE last basket inside Gray’s warehouse condos. This morning she couldn’t face any tough tasks. Just getting out of bed had been hard. Her eyes were scratchy, her throat raw.
Her fingers tightened around the handle of the portable watering container. How could he break her heart and throw her love back in her face?
Her phone buzzed. Was it Daniel calling to apologize? Had he figured o
ut how much he needed her? Her heart pounded in her ears.
Jamie Gessler. Her shoulders sank. “Hi, Jamie.”
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Fine.” She couldn’t fake small talk right now.
“Good,” Jamie said. “You got the bid.”
“I did?” She’d forgotten about it. “Hilton Head?”
He laughed. “That’s the only project you bid on.”
This was what she needed. Getting this job was important. “I appreciate you hiring me.”
“Your bid was fair,” Jamie said. “And I love your work.”
“Thank you.” She should be jumping for joy, but everything inside her was dead. “When can I start?”
“In a couple of weeks.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said.
“Expect a contract this week. I see you took my advice and went out on your own.”
“I did. Fitzgerald Landscape and Design. Thanks for suggesting it. And thank you again.” Tucking her phone in her pocket, she forced a smile on her face and did a halfhearted booty dance.
Daniel would be as excited as she was. She scrolled through her contacts. His name appeared. Smiling, she started to hit Dial. And remembered.
The pain swamped her like a storm tide battering the shore. She sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. She couldn’t call Daniel.
Why was he the first person she thought to call whenever there was news? That had to end. She would get through this. Get over Daniel. She had sisters who would celebrate this success. She had work she loved.
Her heart ached, but she’d get along without Daniel. She had no choice.
* * *
DANIEL TOOK ANOTHER gulp of coffee, letting the strong, hot liquid burn a path to his belly. His fingers drummed on his mother’s desk. The headache that had plagued him for two days was finally gone. Even his anger at Bess had eased.
Last Thursday had been terrible, and then she’d pulled that crap—lying to get him over to her apartment. A chill ran down his back. They’d thrown words at each other as if they were punches. He’d blamed her for all his problems.
Bess had said they were through.
On Friday, he’d stayed away from Carleton House, needing to cool off before talking to her.
He took another hit of coffee. He might have been hard on her, but she was the one at fault. And her throwing I love you at him, as though it was the cure for all their problems, was wrong. He rubbed his chest. He was still mad, but he missed her voice, missed the way she could soothe him.
He couldn’t dwell on his problems, he had invoices to get out.
Nathan rapped a hand on the doorjamb. He had on his jacket and Daniel could smell his aftershave from across the room.
“I had a couple of texts from the crew wondering where their checks are,” Nathan said.
“Checks?” The chair creaked as Daniel leaned back. Checks?
He consulted his to-do lists. He definitely remembered resetting the payroll reminders after Bess fouled up his phone.
Nothing. No reminders. And no task lists. His curses filled the room. “I didn’t run payroll because I didn’t get my reminder.”
“You forgot?” Nathan’s eyes went wide. “You never forget.”
Daniel slapped his hand on Mom’s desk. “All my reminders and lists are hosed. Again.”
He checked his phone. It had been on Silent. There were five messages from crew members.
“What are you going to do?”
Daniel grabbed the time-sheet folder. “I’ll...I’ll run a special payroll. They’ll get the transfers Monday.”
“I put my sheets in the folder on Friday.” Nathan pointed to the folder. “So if there’s anything else—text me.”
“Where are you going?” Panic boiled inside him. He never forgot things this important. Not ever. Maybe his phone issues hadn’t been because of Bess. The coffee he’d just sipped threatened to come back up.
Nathan turned around. “I’m meeting someone for brunch.”
“Cancel. Please.” Daniel ripped his hands through his hair. “I need help. Call the payroll provider. Tell them I’m running a special payroll today. And help me get these numbers entered.”
“Jesus. When have you ever helped me out of a jam?” Nathan glared.
Daniel stared at him. “The inspection screwup?”
“Oh.” Nathan shrugged off his jacket. He checked the clock. “I can give you a half hour, but I really want to make this date.”
“We may need more than thirty minutes.” Daniel handed him the folder. “Call the payroll processor. Then read off hours.”
Now he was the one screwing up. He clenched his fists, but control just slipped through his fingers. And this time it wasn’t Bess’s fault.
* * *
WHEN BESS HEARD a truck outside, she grabbed her purse. She needed to select plumbing fixtures, and Quint was helping her. She ran down the steps, holding her list.
Instead of Quint’s truck, Daniel pulled into the Fitzgerald House parking lot.
“No way.” She refused to spend the morning with the man who blamed her for all of his problems. Turning, she headed right back up the stairs.
The truck door slammed. “Bess, wait!”
“No.”
His boots thundered up the steps behind her. “Please.”
She dug in her purse for her keys. Oh, why didn’t she keep them in the same spot like Abby always suggested?
Daniel joined her on the small landing. “I’m sorry.”
He was sorry. Friday she might have accepted his apology, or even Saturday, but not now. Not on Monday, four days later. “Why are you here?”
He set his hand on her door. “I told Quint I would take you to the plumbing supplier.”
“I won’t go with you.” She spit the words at him.
“Bess, come on. We need to talk.”
“I’ve had enough talking to last a lifetime. Give me the address, I’ll go by myself.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t cause my phone problems.” His words came out in a rush. “I talked to the help desk this morning. It was an update glitch.”
“Wonderful.” She jammed her key into the lock. “I hope you and your files and lists will be very happy together.”
He closed his hand on hers before she could turn the key. She jolted at their skin-to-skin connection. No. She shook his hand off.
“I was having a terrible day. Give me a break.”
“I gave you a break once before.” How could he keep doing this to her? Her chest ached. “You throw me away and then expect me to come back. I’m not a boomerang.”
“But I miss you. And...and we need to work together.”
“No.” She looked him in the eye for the first time since he’d run up the steps. Pain filled brown eyes. “You will not hurt me again. I won’t let you.”
“If I could take the words back, I would.” He reached for her. Panic filled his voice. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
Every word from Daniel, every touch, was another stone thrown at her. He was burying her alive. “I don’t want to see you. Give me the damn address so I don’t mess up your beloved schedules.”
“I’m trying to explain.”
She cut him off. “I don’t want explanations.”
“Please, Bess.” He wiped her cheek.
She shook away his hand, ashamed that tears streaked her face. “Leave me alone.”
“Talk to me.”
“Go away.” Her voice broke.
Daniel held up his hands and backed away. He gave her the address.
She would do what she had to—alone. Because being around Daniel was breaking her heart.
CHA
PTER TWENTY
If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?
Khalil Gibran
DANIEL SETTLED POP in his recliner and slid the walker to the corner of the room. His dad was using a walker. Pop’s cheekbones cast shadows on his face. A vise tightened around Daniel’s chest.
Mom came in. “Do you need anything, Samuel?”
“A glass of water would be nice.” Pop’s eyes closed.
She brought him water and a high-protein shake.
The vise tightened another notch. He wanted to tell Bess how Pop looked, needed her comfort and optimism, but for the past week, he’d only seen her from a distance. Quint had stepped in to do all the things he would have done with her. The vise was almost strangling him now.
Mom brushed back Pop’s hair, kissing his forehead. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Daniel followed her and leaned against the kitchen counter. Keeping his voice low, he asked, “I thought you were staying in Houston another week?”
It was only the fifteenth of December, which was why Nathan hadn’t helped pick them up at the airport. He’d had an inspection on one of his projects. Daniel hoped it went better than the last.
Mom put the kettle on and pulled out a mug and tea bag. “They decided to give him a longer break between courses. Let his body recover.”
“How much more can Pop take? Is this worth it?”
Mom straightened, but her lips trembled. “Your father thinks so.”
There was a quiet knock at the kitchen door. Daniel pulled it open.
Abby stood holding a big pot.
Guilt rushed through him. He and Abby had always been friends. Would that change now? “Let me take that.”
“Thanks. I have another bag in the car.”
Abby came back in, set the bag down and hugged his mom. “Welcome home. Where’s Samuel?”
Daniel stayed in the kitchen while Abby and his mother went into the family room. When the kettle whistled, he poured water over Mom’s tea bag.
“Since Samuel’s having trouble keeping things down, I made chicken-noodle soup.” Abby followed Mom back into the kitchen. “There’s fresh bread and salad if you think he can handle it. I also brought a peach pie.”
