Chiseled - A Standalone Romance (A Super Sexy Western Romance)

by Naomi Niles

  “I don’t know, Gwyne. It still bothers me.”

  “Look, Sean. Let’s make a deal. First of all, you earn your own way. I’ll provide the building materials and room and board, and in return, you’ll do the building at a pace that doesn’t interfere with your healing. So, again, it’s like you’re working for me. No funny stuff. Just business. If I don’t hire you, I’ll have to hire someone else. Who would you rather see locked up with me privately in this building? Some sleazebag, or you? You know you can trust yourself.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, but I see your point. Okay, you have yourself a deal. I’ll go back to living downstairs and tend strictly to business this time. I’ll exchange my time and labor for a bed downstairs, two meals a day, and the pleasure of your company to watch TV, or something equally harmless. Will that work?”

  “That will work.”

  “So, who’s the lucky guy who gets to pretend he’s dating you?”

  “Not entirely sure yet. The first guy who comes to mind is Bob. Dad knows who Bob is. He met him when we went to college together and didn’t particularly care for Bob. He’s your more studious, sensible type. Dad is all about men who earn a living with their backs. He has always said that a man who knows how to use his hands will never be without a job. That’s just how Dad grew up and the standards that he’s used to. I don’t agree with Dad entirely, although I will say that a pair of knowledgeable hands do come in handy from time to time,” I smiled and patted the back of his hand.

  He winced and I looked more closely; there were burn scars on the back of each hand. Obviously they were exposed as he carried Juan. “What you did was awfully brave, you know. You don’t deserve to be set aside like this. They should be giving you a pension fit for royalty. Let’s just say that part of our deal is maybe that I’m doing the right thing when someone else isn’t.”

  “You are truly unique, my dear Gwyne.”

  Chapter 16

  I found Bob’s old email from college and hoped that he was still monitoring it.

  Hey, Bob; it’s Gwyne. Remember me? In writing to ask a little favor. If you remember me, but I’m pretty sure you remember my dad. He’s a rather no-nonsense fellow and at the moment I’m sort of interested in someone who works for him. Naturally, he put the kibosh on that and so that brings me to the favor. I need to throw dad off the scent, so I was wondering if you would mind pretending to be my boyfriend? It really doesn’t take very much, just let me use your name and if he should call you, vouch for me. The most you have to do is maybe meet me for lunch somewhere we he could see us together. I’m hoping you’re still single so this wouldn’t cause a problem for you. I remember that you weren’t a big dater, but more career-oriented, so if I’m lucky, you’ll still be single. How about it?

  I was just about to shut the laptop off when reply came from Bob.

  Well, well, well… if it isn’t little Gwyne O’Reilly. Truthfully never thought I’d hear from you again, but really glad that I am. Fairly sure I’d be happy to accommodate you, but it will cost you a lunch up front. I’d like to do some catching up and get a few more details about this masquerade. Do you know Billy Bob’s Barbecue on 23rd St.? How about meeting me there on Friday at 1 o’clock? If I don’t hear back from you, I’ll assume we have a date. Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy. Yours, Bob

  I read Bob’s response to Sean whose eyebrows raised. “This guy doesn’t sound too bookish to me,” he said with suspicion in his tone.

  “Who? Bob? Oh, you just don’t know him. I’m not even sure he’s into girls, if you know what I mean. He’s fine. If you want, you can go as long as you sit at another table and keep an eye on me.”

  Sean shook his head. “No, I trust you. I just don’t want you to get into any trouble on my account.”

  “I won’t. He’s cool. Dad doesn’t like him because he’s a bookworm, but he’s an all right guy. I’ll go have lunch with him, catch up on a few old stories, and we’ll be good to go. I’ll tell Dad about him, like maybe that I ran into him at the library. Dad will get a kick out of that and figure that I’ll lose interest quickly and move on, but at least he’ll know I’m over you.”

  Sean shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “Yes, I say so. Now, let me get you some bedding for the bed downstairs. Tomorrow I’ll fill the fridge and cupboards and I’ll hide a key to my door in the fire alarm box on the wall. That way you can come in anytime and make yourself something to eat, even when I’m not here.”

  “Didn’t your dad ever teach you what the fire alarm box was for?”

  He seemed a bit stupefied at my hiding place. Anything that had to do with keeping people safe was sacred when it came to firemen. They followed the rules; their lives depended upon it.

  “The alarm isn’t connected to anything. It was disabled when they shut down the firehouse. But a burglar won’t know that, so that’s where I keep my extra key.”

  Sean shook his head and then took the bundle of sheets, blankets, and a pillow that I handed him from my hall closet. “Here you go. This should keep you warm enough for the night,” I told him, and when he opened his mouth to make the smart remark that I knew was coming, I cocked my head in disapproval and he never said the words. I knew he was going to suggest that I might keep him warmer, but we had our deal. It seemed that I had made a deal with the devil at last.

  Sean left my apartment and went down into the bay and I could hear him moving around downstairs. Once again it was comforting and I felt very safe knowing he was nearby. I rummaged around in the freezer and pulled out a beef roast for the next day’s dinner, putting it into the refrigerator to thaw. I did a quick inventory of the refrigerator and cupboards and decided that an all-out shopping spree was in store. I felt sort of proprietary and wife-ish at the moment, and it really didn’t feel too bad.

  * * *

  I found the restaurant where I agreed to meet Bob and was happy to see that I was right on time. I stood inside the doorway and looked around for a man who was wearing black, horn-rimmed glasses—those had been Bob’s trademark. I saw an arm waving from a booth at the back and walked toward it, but it wasn’t Bob. It was a man with blond hair who wore no glasses and was extremely stylishly dressed.

  “Gwyne! Gwyne! Back here!” I found the voice and it appeared to be coming from the blond man in the back, corner booth. I was puzzled.

  “Gwyne, it’s me, Bob.” The blond man’s mouth was moving and I searched his face. He smiled and he had Bob’s smile, but nothing else from Bob.

  “Bob?” I questioned him. “Is that you?”

  “Sure is. You didn’t recognize me, did you?”

  “Actually, no, I didn’t. Not at all. You look entirely different. Did I miss something?”

  “No, this all happened after graduation. As a matter of fact, I fell in love with a girl. She was Parisian and had come to New York City to become a dress designer. Let’s just say that she needed a place to stay, and I happened to have plenty of room. We tried to make it work for a while, she really didn’t have the money for an apartment on her own and I did feel sorry for her. She was a nice girl, but we were just too different. The one thing she left behind was the wardrobe she had picked out for me. In fact, she gave me an entire makeover. So, I guess you could say that I’m the new Bob.”

  “Well, you certainly are, Bob. I would never have recognized you. Please don’t be offended, but I will say that she had excellent taste. You look great.”

  “Thank you. You look great, too, Gwyne.”

  The waiter had approached the table and true to the theme of the restaurant, Bob ordered us each a mug of cold beer. My eyebrows went up a bit at the idea of drinking beer at one in the afternoon, but I had to admit even on that cold, winter day, it quenched my thirst and was pretty good, especially after the waiter brought a platter of barbecued ribs. Bob and I chatted at length about people, reviewing common acquaintances and what had come of them. We reminisced about a few parties, a few classes, and the general life of an imp
overished college student. When we had finished eating, Bob brought up the subject we had come to discuss.

  “So, who is this guy you have a thing for?”

  “No one you would know. He’s from out of state. He happens to work for my dad and we happen to have hit it off. You know my dad; this made him nuts. He forbade seeing Sean—oh, that’s right, Sean is his name. Anyway, Dad didn’t have any better reason other than he didn’t think it was a good idea. Of course, Dad is an old fogey and has no idea who I really am. I make my own decisions now.”

  “Is that so? Then why do you need me to throw him off the trail?” Bob was grinning at me from across the table.

  I frowned and said, “Okay, you’ve got a little point there, maybe.”

  “So, go on with your story.”

  “Okay, so Sean got injured on the job. The city doesn’t take very good care of its injured firefighters. They’ve put him on a small disability payment that a squirrel couldn’t live on. I bought a firehouse that had been abandoned by the city about a year ago. I’m living in the upstairs apartment and I want to develop two apartments in the downstairs level. I’m letting Sean live down there if he does the work to build the apartments.”

  Bob’s eyebrows rose as if he were questioning what I was saying. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, he sleeps downstairs and I sleep upstairs. I won’t lie to you, I am attracted to him. A lot, as a matter of fact. But, if my dad finds out that I’m letting him live in my building, his career as a firefighter in New York City will be done. He has special reasons for wanting that not to happen. I have special reasons for not wanting him to move. So, that brings me to you.”

  “Yes, that brings us to me. What is it you need me to do?” Bob sounded cooperative, but still somewhat puzzled.

  “Really, not a lot. If I can, I’d like to use your name and tell Dad that I ran into you at the library and that we had a quick drink and you asked me out. Then I’ll tell him that I accepted and we’ve seen one another for dinner a couple of times, and I’ll leave it go at that. If worst comes to worst, I’ll invite you to dinner and have Dad join us, but I don’t think he’ll need that kind of proof. Of course, he hasn’t seen you with your makeover. I don’t think he thought of you as a threat before, but you’re pretty hot now, if I say so myself.”

  “You may say so, and quite regularly, please,” he grinned. “When does all this start? Immediately?”

  “Immediately. I’ll pick up the check now and if we ever have to have a meal together later, and I don’t think that you’ll have to do anything more than that. Would you do it for me, Bob?”

  “Sure, kid, but with one condition.”

  “What’s that?” I was cringing, waiting to hear what he was going to ask.

  “If, by any chance, you and your firemen boyfriend part ways, you give me a chance and let me invite you to dinner.”

  I grinned broadly. Sticking out my hand, I said, “You got a deal. Thanks so much for this. Waiter?” I called to the one standing nearby. “Check please?”

  Bob and I parted ways, exchanging full contact information before we left. He waved goodbye in the falling snow and I shivered as I waited for a taxi. Things were working out nicely.

  Chapter 17

  Sean was in my apartment, stirring a pot of something that smelled very good.

  “So, did he go for it?”

  “Of course,” I said in a cocky, self-assured voice.

  “And you won’t be interfering with his reading?” he teased me.

  “No, I won’t be interfering with hardly anything. If worst comes to worst, he’ll have to meet me and have dinner somewhere where Dad will see us or maybe even join us. Apart from that, I’m just going to use his name and if Dad should contact him, he’s going to cover for me. See there? Pretty cut and dry.”

  “Hmmm. It sounds like the makings of a disaster to me, but I guess I have to trust you. There aren’t a lot of other options.”

  “What are you making?” I asked him, leaning forward to sniff the pot.

  He lifted his hand and gently pushed me backward. “That’s my surprise.”

  “I didn’t know you knew anything about cooking.”

  “I daresay there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, dear Gwynn.” I had to admit, he had a point there. We had been so consumed with the business of renovation and firefighting, we barely had time to get to know one another.

  “Let’s put a stop to that, shall we? Let me go change clothes and when I come back, perhaps you let me have a small bowl of whatever concoction you’re making and we can begin to get to know one another. After all, I’ve never been to Iowa.”

  He nodded, adding salt to the pot, and I took that opportunity to change my clothes. I put on a pair of silky pajamas and topped these with a bright-blue fleece robe. I had always liked blue; it set off my coloring well and was a peaceful color: the color of the sky.

  Sean met me at the breakfast bar, handing me a bowl and a spoon. He had prepared a stew and it was incredibly tasty. “Where did you learn to cook like this?” I asked him, amazed.

  “When you’re a fireman who has a lot of time to kill, you have to learn to do something well. There are always hungry men in a fire station, so I figured if I kept the guys happy, they’d have my back.”

  “Did you feel like someone didn’t have your back in that apartment fire?” This was a perspective that had never occurred to me until just now.

  “No, not at all. Everyone was doing their job the way they were supposed to. If anything, I was the one who went rogue. I should’ve never gone into the building with only my own gear and without someone to back me up. I broke the rules and I paid the consequences.”

  I frowned a bit. “But you were a hero, Sean. If you hadn’t gone back into that building, Juan would’ve died. He owes his life to you.”

  “No, Gwyne, he owes me nothing. It was my job to make sure that he got out. That’s what they pay me to do.”

  I looked up at him and the irony of what he was saying hit us both at the same time. We shared a wry smile and went back to our bowls of hot stew. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, this stew is superb. I would ask you for the recipe except that would mean that I would have to cook it from now on. I’d rather that when stew night comes around, you are the chef. Does that work for you?”

  “That works for me,” he affirmed, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was pleased. It occurred to me that he had not been in the position to give for a very long time. It was bad for your pride when you never got to give, and always had to ask for help. I vowed never to make him feel as though he wasn’t doing his share; it just wouldn’t be fair to him.

  “So, for the next few days, I’d like you to continue resting. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You can’t afford the medical bills, and besides, I happen to like watching you heal.”

  Puzzlement crossed his face. “Watching me heal? Isn’t that a rather slow, boring past time?”

  “Not at all. Men and women heal differently. Men tend to just crash somewhere and moan about the pain. Women, on the other hand, tend to go through the drugstore shelves looking for a solution and then calling a half-dozen girlfriends to ask their opinion. By the time they have the treatment figured out, whatever was wrong with them in the first place has disappeared. There are very few things that the human body cannot cure itself if given proper nutrition, plenty of rest, and a positive attitude.”

  “I never realized you had gotten a medical degree,” he mocked me. I threw a pillow at him and he dodged it. It sailed on and knocked a vase off a side table, crashing it in smithereens upon the floor.

  “Oh, God.”

  “Here, let me. You keep on eating.”

  “But that’s not fair. I broke the vase; I should clean it up.”

  “You are cleaning up enough things already. It’s my turn.”

  * * *

  That night, New York City was hit by a monster blizzard. I had watched the snow falling outside my
bedroom window and wondered when it would ever end. Just before midnight, the wind joined the maelstrom and as it howled, the power lines dove to escape it. The result was that we were entirely out of power. I grabbed the flashlight next to my bed. Turning in on, I went to check the other rooms, just to make sure it wasn’t a fuse blown. The entire building, as well as all the buildings within sight, were black.

  “Sean?” I called downstairs.

  “Yeah? Is something wrong?”

  “The power is out. I can’t see any lights for blocks. This building doesn’t have great insulation; it’s only a matter of time before we begin freezing to death.”

  “On my way up in a minute. Can you aim that flashlight down here?”

  I did as he asked and saw him move slowly, wrapped in his blankets, toward the staircase. Moments later, he was standing in front of me and I backed up to let him in.

  “Heat rises, so I’d say the warmest place in the building will be up here. We don’t want to light the gas stove; there’s not enough ventilation for that. Do you have any candles?”

  “Just a little one I burn in the bathroom sometimes when I’m in the tub.”

  He rolled his eyes at my unpreparedness. “Sometimes I can’t believe you are your father’s daughter,” he muttered.

  “There’s no telling how long the power is going to be out. It could be five minutes; it could be five hours, or even five days.”

  “Let’s not jump to the worst conclusion so quickly. Come on with me,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me back to my bedroom. He tucked me back into my side of the bed and then crawled beneath the covers on the opposite side, pulling me against him so that we could share body heat. It didn’t take long to recognize that it was having a profound effect on his anatomy.