There was no stopping her smile.
He groaned and curved his hand around the nape of her neck, his thumb brushing just below her ear. “Unfair. I’m trying to be a gentleman and return you home on time, as promised.”
“You’re a good guy.”
He kissed her again, then set her at arm’s length. “Home,” he said in a husky voice.
She laughed low and happy, and received a look of searing intensity. A glorious shiver slid down her spine.
He might be playing this light, but he wasn’t playing.
The future dazzled with possibilities.
Chapter 3
The drive home was silent, but never had Bree known a silence so alive with happiness. The rain had passed and they had the windows down, letting the freshness of the day blow in. Every so often, Josh would take his attention off the road, just fleetingly, to look at her, and although she knew it was a medical impossibility, it felt as if her heart swelled.
So when they reached the edge of town and saw the rainbow arching over it, she reached out and touched his arm, needing to share the good omen. It was like a blessing on the day. “Mom used to say that the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is all our dreams come true. She believed that if we wished hard and worked towards our goals…anything was possible.”
“She’d be proud of you.”
Bree smiled. She wouldn’t cry, today; not even for happiness. “She was proud of me.” She’d always known she had her mom’s love. “Mom would have liked you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
As they drove through town, it became obvious that the rain that had only lightly touched them at the lake, had been heavy here. The roads were slick, puddles remained, and leaves and small branches were strewn around. Josh had been right. They’d only caught the edge of the sudden summer storm. The town had endured the worst of it.
But now the sun was out, again, and sparkled off the wet trees and road.
Bree smiled as Josh turned the corner into their street. “The rain will probably bring out another crop of weeds. I need to do something about the garden. I’ve been neglecting it in favor of the house—”
“Holy heck.” Josh stopped the pickup joltingly at the edge of her driveway.
“No.” She struggled with her seatbelt, heartsick at what she saw through the windscreen.
“Bree, wait.”
But she was out of the car and gone. Ten steps. Ten steps to devastation.
The tall pine tree out front, between the house and garage, had fallen in the storm. Giant roots were exposed to the air. The tree, itself, had taken out the garage. The old structure had collapsed, standing no chance against the pine tree. And buried somewhere beneath the carnage, was her car.
She didn’t care about her car or garage. She stared at the house. The tree had scraped the edge of it, cracking roof tiles, dragging down the guttering, and breaking the corner window of the living room.
Josh put an arm around her. “You have insurance?” Half question, half reassurance.
“Yes.” But she wasn’t reassured. She didn’t lean into his embrace. She stood frozen with her hands over her mouth, holding in her dismay. “This is my fault.”
“What?” He pulled her around to face him.
Her body swiveled, but her attention remained on the house. She stared at the damage. It ate into her soul, stabbing with cold, ruthless pain. She was so stupid. Stupid. She knew life wasn’t fairytales and happy ever after. Not for her. She should have stayed here this morning. She should have been here.
“Bree.” He gripped her shoulders.
She shook her head and pulled away. “I have to fix this.” She didn’t know where to start.
“We will.”
“No!” She saw his eyes narrow, and ignored his reaction. “I shouldn’t have gone riding with you this morning. I should have been here.”
“To do what? If you’d been here, you could have been hurt.”
“I have to phone the insurance company. And a windows person, a glass person, someone to fix the window.”
“I’ll nail a board over it. If there’s been storm damage throughout town, it might take a few days till someone can get here.”
She stared at him, shocked all over again. This had to be fixed. Aunt Joy’s house had to be safe and whole. It was a dream house. “I wanted to be open for Thanksgiving. No more lonely holidays for me.”
“Sweetheart.” Aching sympathy laced his voice. “Come here.”
“It’s my fault. I wasted my morning. I went riding with you.” The tree has squashed the garden, too. The snapdragons she’d delighted in yesterday were flattened.
“Our morning was not wasted.”
“I should have been here.”
He clasped her hand and pulled her to him. “All right, that’s enough.”
She blinked. “Is that your army voice?”
It had the snap of command.
“It’s the voice of common sense. Come across the road with me. I’ll make you coffee with half the sugar bowl in it, and you can phone the insurance company from there.”
He succeeded in one thing, at least. Bree snapped out of her dazed shock, and started to function. She glanced at her watch. “I can’t. I have to go to work. I need to shower and dress. Secure the window. Did you say I’ll need to board it up?”
“I’ll do that.”
She wanted to refuse, out of instinct to lick her wounds alone, but he knew how to do the job and she didn’t. “Thanks.”
“You could phone in to the hospital and explain your situation.”
“The storm may have caused accidents. They’ll need me.”
He sighed. “All right. Off you go, shower. I’m going to walk around the house and check for any other damage.”
She flinched. “Do you think there’s more?”
“No.” And, as she stared at him. “It’s better to check.”
“I’ll go with you. I have to see.”
They walked the circuit of the house: down along the side fence where the wind had torn the petals off the roses and scattered them over the ground; around to the back, which appeared unscathed; and on around to the other side, to the ruin of the garage.
Bree’s breath shuddered. She fumbled in her pocket for her house keys. The scent of pine would always remind her of this terrible day.
“I’ll drive you to work,” Josh said.
“I hadn’t thought…” She’d been so focused on the house, that she hadn’t considered what the loss of her car meant. “I’ll call Maria. She’s working the same shift.”
“Then she can drop you off on the way home. I’ll drive you in.” He was implacable.
She wanted to refuse. She got her mouth open to do so, and he glared at her. The words choked. She swallowed, angry that he was angry. He shouldn’t be in her life. Look what had happened. She’d opened the door to a personal relationship, and immediately, her dream had been broken. How many times did she have to learn the same lesson? She was safer alone.
“I can’t afford to be distracted,” she said. “I shouldn’t…we shouldn’t…” She concentrated on unlocking the back door, avoiding his accusing gaze.
“Shouldn’t what? Get involved? It’s too late for that, Bree.” He stood by the clothesline, staring at her; not attempting to close the distance between them. His energy did that for him.
She felt his impatience and determination lap against her.
“Here’s a thought,” he added. “Maybe if you let people help you, you could ‘afford’ to be distracted.”
“I’ll be out in twenty minutes,” she said, and closed the door behind her. For an instant, she leaned against it, feeling the cool wood through her damp shirt. Then she straightened. Shower. Dress. Get to work. She’d coped with worse, and she’d survived. She’d do so, again.
Out in the yard, Josh kicked the post of the old clothesline. It immediately collapsed. He swore. One more thing to fix.
A new
clothesline was easy. The real question was how he’d repair the relationship between Bree and him.
He got that she was in shock. He got that she was accustomed to coping alone. But in his gut, he resented the heck out of her attempting to back away. She had to shake free of her past and see what was right in front of her.
Him—and he wasn’t going anywhere.
He walked back around the house, checking the damage to the front corner of the roof over the living room. Bree mightn’t think it, but she’d been lucky. A few more inches and the falling pine tree would have meant more than minor repairs. Structural damage would have really set back her plans to open the B&B. But a few cracked roof tiles and torn guttering were relatively easily fixed. The window and the rain-soaked carpet inside the living room would be covered by insurance.
As for the garage and her car inside it…he rocked back on his heels. No, there was no way to minimize the destruction there. The garage and the car were history.
“I’m ready.” Bree slammed the front door behind her, locking it although she cast a depressed look at the broken window.
“I’ll pick up a board at the hardware store after I’ve dropped you at the hospital,” he said. “Thirty minutes and I’ll be back and the house secure.”
“Thanks.” She was totally shut down. Somehow she wore her nurse’s uniform like armor. Her curly hair was wound tightly into a knot.
He didn’t push it. Not yet.
They drove to the hospital in silence. There were a couple of other trees down and a trampoline overturned in a yard.
“I’ll get a lift home from Maria.” Bree jumped down from the pickup, hesitated, and finally, looked at him. “Thanks.”
The repetition of her gratitude didn’t make it any less grudging.
“You’re welcome.”
They stared at one another, then she shut the door and walked away.
He watched her independent stride, the resolutely square set to her shoulders, and recalled the laughing, loving woman of the morning. The woman he wanted. He put his foot down hard on the accelerator. There was more to be found at the hardware store than boards, and sometimes, a man needed a little help.
Bree heard the annoyed roar of Josh’s pickup as he left. For a minute, regret punched her. Their morning had been magical, like something out of an old movie. Her steady walk faltered just inside the hospital and she actually put a hand to her chest as a pang shot through her. It was wistfulness, sorrow for what might have been.
But she had to be strong. The lesson was clear. If she was to achieve her dream of running the B&B, of being independent and secure, then she had to focus all her energy on it. Pretty fantasies of summer romance were for those who could afford them.
Her mind ticked over with all that she’d have to do to recover from this latest setback.
The hospital was busy, but not unnaturally so. Despite the damage to her house, the storm had mostly spared the town. There were few additional accidents, although one woman had fallen after she’d tried to rescue her new kitten, scared by the storm, from a branch high in an oak tree. Fortunately, by some miracle, her injuries were limited to bruises and scrapes.
Bree grabbed a quiet moment when she and Maria had both snatched mugs of coffee to ask her favor. “Could you give me a lift home at the end of shift?”
“Of course. Is there something wrong with your car? I know a good mechanic.”
“I don’t think a mechanic can help.”
Maria put down her coffee mug. “Were you in an accident? Have you been checked—”
“No, it’s okay. The storm blew over the pine tree in my front yard. It squashed the garage and my car inside it. Splat.” Bree pulled a face.
“Oh, sweetie. What bad luck.”
“Yeah, and the house…” Bree usually kept her own counsel, but faced with Maria’s obvious sympathy, the words spilled out. “The living room window shattered and the guttering over it is wrecked. A few tiles came off the roof.”
“Oh no. That’s awful. And after all the work you’ve put into the house. It’ll set you back weeks in selling it.”
Bree blinked. “Selling it?”
“After you’ve finished the renovations.” Maria picked up her coffee mug and sipped. “I hope you get a good price for it after the time and effort you’ve put in.”
“I’m not selling.”
It was Maria’s turn to blink.
“I’m going to open a B&B, one that caters to disabled guests.” Sharing her plans, Bree wondered why she hadn’t before. Engrained habit? An inferiority complex, thinking that no one would care? Superstitious fear of jinxing herself?
“Bree, that’s a wonderful idea. You’ll be staying!”
For the second time that day, regret punched Bree. It wasn’t as strong as when Josh drove away, but it was there now. Maria had been waiting to be a friend. It was her, Bree, who hadn’t opened the door to friendship.
She smiled. “Yeah. I’ll be staying.”
Chapter 4
“Don’t argue with me,” Maria said at the end of their afternoon shift. The remaining clouds in the sky were streaked with evening gold. “I swapped shifts with you so that you can stay home, tomorrow, and deal with whatever you have do to fix the storm damage. You’ve done as much for me when my kids were sick. Just say ‘thank you’.”
So Bree said “thank you”, and the next morning woke to knowing that she had the whole day to focus on getting her life—the B&B–back on track. Part of her clung to a gray sense of disappointment that Josh hadn’t dropped in from across the road when she got home last night. But he had done what he’d promised: boarded up the broken living room window. It was her own fault that he’d also done what she’d asked and left her alone.
She found that she didn’t like being alone in the early light of dawn. She wanted to sit at the kitchen table with someone else and talk about plans for the day.
Pathetic. She stood and switched on the small television that stood on a corner of the counter. Its noise filled the silence. She topped up her mug of coffee and contemplated the to-do list that she’d scrawled last night.
The doorbell was a welcome, if surprising, intrusion. It was really early. Even earlier than she’d gone riding with Josh, yesterday.
The bell pealed, again.
A guy she’d never seen before stood on the step. He was dressed for a day’s hard work in cotton shirt and old jeans, with dusty boots.
“Good morning?” She couldn’t help that her greeting turned into a question.
“Morning, Bree. I’m Scott, Maria’s husband. I work construction. She sent me over to have a look at your roof before I start work.”
“Oh.” She was stunned at such kindness.
“It looks like it’s more mess than real trouble.”
“That’s what I thought.” Josh ambled up. A nod of his head acknowledged Bree, and then, the two men went into a huddle, staring up at the roof, then at the tree. “It’ll have to go first.”
Bree returned to the kitchen, got down two mugs, filled them with coffee and carried them back out.
“Thanks,” Scott said.
“You might want to make some more.” Josh’s fingers brushed hers as he took his mug.
“Why?”
Scott wandered away, clambering around the pine tree to squint at the roof.
Josh watched her over his mug. He swallowed. “I was coming over to tell you. I mentioned your plans for a B&B and the storm damage at the hardware store.” He paused. “And I might have told Gramps.”
“That’s okay. I told Maria, Scott’s her husband, about the B&B at work yesterday. It’s not a secret.”
He grimaced and looked away. “Yeah, that’s not quite what I meant.”
“I reckon the salvage yard has some roof tiles that’ll match yours.” Scott handed her his empty coffee mug. “I’ll pick some up on the way home, unless…?” He jerked his chin at Josh in a non-verbal question.
“I’ll get them,” Jos
h said.
“Let me know if you need a hand.” Scott nodded to Bree. “Nice meeting you.”
Bree waited till the man climbed into his pickup. She smiled and waved. From the side of her mouth she said to Josh. “I don’t need your help. This is my house. My problems.”
“About that…”
A car beeped from the road and shot into the driveway as Scott departed.
Bree didn’t recognize the bright yellow compact.
Then Josh’s grandfather climbed out of it.
She stared from him to Josh.
Josh held up a placatory hand. “People want to help. Gramps had the car sitting in a shed at the ranch. He bought it for Ella, one of my cousins, who preferred a pickup. If you turn down the use of it till you’ve replaced your car, he’ll be offended. You’re his favorite nurse.” He grinned. “Mine, too.”
How was it that his smile had the ability to wipe out her anger and her ability to think?
“Good morning, Bree.” Hank strode up to them. He wore a flannel shirt over work trousers. “Never thought that big pine would fall. Huh.” He tossed car keys to Josh. “The chainsaw’s in the trunk.”
Chainsaw?
“Thanks, Gramps.” Josh passed his empty mug to Bree.
She’d lost her grip on the situation, that much was obvious. She hesitated. She couldn’t borrow Hank’s car, but he hadn’t offered it to her yet, so she couldn’t refuse it. Nor could she allow Josh to tackle the huge fallen pine. But he hadn’t actually said that he was going to. She didn’t know which issue to deal with first.
“Coffee.” Hank gave her a gentle push between the shoulder blades. “If you’ve found Joy’s giant pot, you’d better put it on. The boys will be here, soon.”
“The boys?”
“Josh’s cousins. Friends. And their wives. My daughter-in-law. Josh’s mom is just itching to tackle the garden. Her and I were talking about the roses along the fence…”
Bree lost the rest of the sentence. She stared at Josh who was returning with the chainsaw. “You can’t do all this. You can’t help me.”
The Texas Kisses Collection Page 11
