by Ines Saint
Cassie turned on her heel to look for Johnny and Dan, to give them a long and loud piece of her mind and to demand they tell her where her car was, but Heather and Holly blocked her way. “If you ever want to see your car again, you need to follow the instructions in this note,” Heather said, trying not to giggle.
Cassie closed her eyes and breathed in and out five times. “You’re holding my car hostage?”
“Just read the note.” With effort, Holly slipped the note and the emerald-green, tree-shaped wood-sprite key into Cassie’s fisted hand. “You may think you’re protecting yourself, but you’re not. You’re hurting your happiness. Trust me.”
Meddling, nosy people were the worst. Jaw clenched, Cassie opened the note. The key is in your key. Use it and remember what I told you. Love, Sherry.
Cassie shook her head. Even Sherry was in on it.
Johnny drove up in Sam’s pickup, hopped down, and handed her the keys. Cassie gave him the evil eye and got into the truck. Their childish pranks were making her miss the party.
She gathered Sherry was talking about the wood sprite key and that her car was at Grandma Maddie’s, where Sam was waiting, going all out to try and get them to talk.
Well, she’d talk, all right. She put the car into gear and peeled out, going over everything she wanted to say.
“Go find the ending to your day,” Holly yelled after her.
Cassie pulled into her grandmother’s driveway a minute later, climbed down, slammed the door, and walked up the path yelling, “Sam Amador, you get out here and give me the keys to my car this minute. Grand theft auto is a serious federal offense, and no judge is going to want to hear how you’re only trying to get your ex-girlfriend to listen to you explain how you didn’t enjoy tongue-wrestling with another woman when you ended up marrying the other woman!”
Sam opened the door in his ridiculously hot suit. “If you’d put a lid on your temper long enough to listen—”
“I don’t care. I’m over it. I just want my keys.”
“Then come and get them.” He slammed the door and Cassie heard it lock.
“Ugh!” She dug out the green and gold wood sprite key Holly had forced on her. When she took another angry step, the condition of the house hit her for the first time. She stopped short.
The outside of the cottage was completely repaired. The limestone, stucco, and vertical trim looked like new. Cassie stepped back. It was back to its enchanting self.
She walked up the newly paved steps, slid the key into the lock, stepped in, covered her mouth, and gasped.
It was beautiful.
It was everything she could’ve wanted, but wouldn’t have known how to bring to life. The quarter-sawn hardwood floors and trim had been refinished and stained a medium java tone. The interior walls were painted a light taupe, and there was a brand-new closet. Cassie continued to walk in, her mouth still covered, taking in the colorful Craftsman light features that made the foyer pop.
When she stepped into the main living and kitchen area, she dropped her hand from her mouth. The kitchen cabinets were blue. A calming, peaceful, charming cottage blue. Never had she seen a lovelier kitchen. The long breakfast counter looked out onto the yard and trees. The backsplash he’d shown her tied the quartz countertops, stone fireplace, and blue cabinets together. Cassie sat at the breakfast counter and looked down at the stream, remembering Sherry’s words. He has a lot to say, but he says it in his own way.
“A space that hides your clutter, forgives your clumsiness, and welcomes you home in peaceful shades of blue,” Sam said, coming up behind her. He swiveled her around in her stool to face him. “Ralph is listing it. If you buy it, it’ll take you right to the top. It’ll be the house that makes you number one.”
Cassie was speechless as she looked around, remembering how she’d thought she had it all figured out that first day and how sorry she’d been for the broken down house. It had taken time and the care of those who loved her to see she’d been just as broken in places.
And now here was the old house, the same but renewed, with bones strong as ever but needing someone to appreciate it so it didn’t fall into neglect again.
The sale of the cottage would also help steady Sam’s business, even though she knew that wasn’t why he’d done it. If he’d been thinking about it, he wouldn’t have risked painting the cabinets blue.
What he’d done with the small yard outside was also a risky move. It was now an informal garden with stone paths winding through tons of wild flowers leading to the park. She loved it.
A dug up area caught her eye and a long ago memory snapped to the forefront of her mind. “That’s where those time capsules were buried!” she exclaimed, and rushed out.
“I’d forgotten all about them until we dug them up,” he said, walking out the door after her.
“How old were we when we found them; five, six?” she asked, as she kneeled down and pulled out a rotting wooden box. “I don’t even remember what we found.” She opened the lid of the first box and found a few wooden airplane toys. A note included in the box read “When I grow up I will be a daring pilot,” and was signed in clumsy block letters by a Milton Clarke.
“We had Holly look him up. Turns out his dad was part of the exhibition team The Wright Flyers. Milton ended up becoming a stunt flyer, too. There were lots of articles on him.”
Cassie pulled out the box that looked like a treasure chest next. “If I remember correctly, this one belonged to my dad. I think I remember Grandma telling me he put it in with Milton’s after their dog dug it up.” She lifted the latch and closed her eyes when she saw what was inside it. Unable to help herself, she began to laugh. The chest held a few pictures of great men who hailed from Dayton, like Wilbur and Orville Wright and industrialist John Patterson, and tons of pictures of her dad, who looked to be about ten years old. No notes, no toys, just pictures of him in different poses. She opened her eyes and looked up to see Sam’s eyes twinkling down at her. Shaking her head, she studied each picture, feeling a strange peace wash over her. Max McGillicuddy was who he was.
Cassie thought about her mom and wondered what little Sandy Morgan might’ve put into a time capsule. It occurred to her that her mother had probably never figured out who she really was. Maybe much of the bitterness Sandy felt toward her husband and the disappointment she directed at Cassie were ways of deflecting how she really felt about herself. It was something to think about. Maybe Sandy would figure out who she was in the next couple of years, despite her crazy plans to get back on the national stage.
The last time capsule was simply a plastic container with a blue lid. Cassie remembered it because they’d had a hard time sneaking it out of the kitchen without her grandmother noticing. She popped the lid, having no memory of what they’d placed in it.
Inside were two toys, two notes, and one picture. The moment came back to her in a flash. They’d decided to copy the other two capsules because they couldn’t agree on what they should put inside their own.
The picture was a faded snap of her and the Amador boys, playing on the infamous oak tree in the park. Johnny was hanging upside down, even though he must’ve only been about three or four when the picture was taken. Dan was doing a chin-up on the branch next to Johnny. Looking back, she guessed he’d really been watching over Johnny. Sam was in a midair jump and Cassie was pretending she was going to catch him.
She looked over at him. “You were doing the jumping and I was doing the catching?”
Sam smiled into her eyes. “We used to take turns, remember?”
Cassie looked down, unable to hold his gaze. He was right. They used to take turns. Next she took out the toys. Sam had put in Legos and Cassie had put in a rope. “The Legos make sense, but a rope?” She laughed.
He laughed too. “I have no idea.”
She looked back down and took Sam’s note out first. In writing even clumsier than Milton’s, it said, “When I grow up I’ll be a hero. Dan and Johnny will be my sidekicks.”<
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Her eyes met Sam’s, surprised. “Small-town hero. See?”
“Just don’t tell Dan and Johnny they’re my sidekicks,” he said, amused.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Sam nudged the second note toward her. Cassie opened it and read aloud. “When I grow up I will play with fire because no one lets me now.” They laughed long and hard.
In silent agreement, they began putting everything back and burying it all up again for the next little boy or girl to find.
When they were done, Cassie looked back at the house and exclaimed, “You put windows that look out onto the park in the upstairs bedrooms!”
Sam gave her a half grin, as if to say, I always deliver. “Of course.”
“I think Jake will like that,” she said, unable to look at him. “And I think we should draw him a fun map so he can find the time capsules and add his own.”
Sam leaned in and kissed her, thoroughly, until she melted against him. “I love you, Cass,” he said, hugging her to him tightly. “All of you. Your good intentions, your sweet heart, your harebrained ideas, and the fact that you drive me nuts. I need to be driven nuts sometimes. You make me feel alive.”
“Nobody likes to be driven nuts. That must be passion talking.”
He lifted her chin to look into her eyes before brushing his lips against hers. Her knees instantly felt weak and her insides aflame. “It’s definitely that, but it’s friendship and respect, too. What can I do to make you see?” he asked, running his fingers along the goose bumps on her arms.
Trembling, she looked down at the key she’d put on the grass. “I don’t think anybody has ever loved me like you, Sam. I can’t shut it out or refuse to listen anymore. You’re too loud.” She smiled up at him. “The scary part is I love you, too.”
“I know. Unlike you, I’ve been listening all along.” He winked.
Cassie groaned. “I have a confession to make. The wink really turns me on. It’s why it made me so angry.”
“And the suit?” he asked.
“So hot.” She tugged on his lapels. “It’s a good thing I’m all grown up and allowed to play with fire,” she said before brushing her lips across his. He picked her up and nearly tripped as she sprinkled kisses on his neck on the way back inside.
“Careful. I’m buying this house, and I don’t want you breaking your neck here and jinxing it forever.”
“You can’t buy it. I’m keeping it.”
“Sam!” She wiggled out of his arms, then stood facing him, outraged, but he lifted her arms and pinned her body and hands to the wall behind her, teasing her with slow, strategic, agonizing kisses while she tried to pant an argument to that.
“Shush. There’s only. One way. It can be yours. Too,” Sam mumbled between long, drawn-out kisses. “In time.”
“Sam!” She tried again, but what started as a yell turned into a moan.
“That’s more like it . . .” he said, as she dragged him down onto the floor.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Fixer-Upper
Available Winter 2016
Prologue
One year ago . . .
Johnny stepped into the small elevator, hit the ground floor button, leaned against the back wall, and sighed. His mask was itchy, but he kept it on. He didn’t feel like being himself at the moment. The unmasking was supposed to occur at midnight but he’d left just before. Hadn’t even said good-bye to his friends.
Snow White had been pissed. Apparently, he should not have attended the Department of Theatre’s Storybook Masquerade dressed as Prince Charming. She’d said it had sent a strong signal.
Had it? They’d only gone out a few times in the last couple of months and she’d made it clear they were on the same page. Not ready for a commitment. Dating for the heck of it. Enjoying life as a single person.
They didn’t even live close to each other. They were both graduate students at The Ohio State University and both were commuting from over an hour away in opposite directions.
But tonight she’d said her mother wanted to meet him next Sunday. . . at her entire family’s annual Mother’s Day picnic.
He’d wanted to be kind, but he’d also wanted to be a man about it. He wasn’t about to beat around the bush in a way that left questions unanswered.
The only kind but firm way he could think of letting her know he wasn’t about to meet her mother and entire family at an important event was to politely ask why her mom wanted to meet him in the first place and let the conversation take its due course.
The course had been a very public slap across the face. Next thing he knew she’d left with a vampire. Oh well.
He’d always considered himself good at reading people and their intentions, but dating was getting way too complicated. His words were always loud and clear, but something in him was sending the wrong signals. It was time to stop dating. Hanging out with friends was entertaining enough and it wasn’t like he had much free time anyway. Between classes for his doctorate in psychology and renovating houses for his older brother’s business, he barely had time to play.
The doors were about to slide shut when a woman wearing an off-shoulder peasant shirt, a colorful swishy skirt, and a plain cardboard mask stepped in. He smiled and was about to ask her about her mask and costume, but stopped himself.
It had also been brought to his attention that he didn’t know how to speak without flirting.
To him, it wasn’t flirting. It was his way of trying to be amusing and it had served to defuse the tension in his home growing up. But he was an adult on the brink of starting his professional life, and if women, and some men, kept taking his friendliness the wrong way, then he had to change.
The woman in the peasant costume hit a button on the panel, he sighed again, and she looked back and smiled.
The smile and the way her eyes twinkled hit him right in the solar plexus. He stood up straight and went on full alert. Like a soldier threatened by an enemy. He rubbed his chest and eyed her warily. What the hell?
The girl was watching him with dark, happy eyes and the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. There was no guile, no flirting, nothing hidden in her look. Something about him had amused her, and she was letting it show. Their eyes met and a pure feeling spread from his chest to every nerve ending in his body.
Alarmed, he looked away while his brain scrambled to make sense of it. Instant lust? No. That had happened plenty of times before and it didn’t involve purity. All of a sudden, he wanted out of the elevator, but the doors shut the moment he stepped forward. The elevator began its descent with an unsteady lurch.
They rode down in silence, each trying not to touch the other in the cramped space that suddenly felt alive with its own energy. Every inch of him was aware of every inch of her. Johnny swallowed hard. He couldn’t wait to get away from her.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. The woman took two steps and Johnny looked up, relieved she was leaving. The moment he looked out, though, he saw they were between floors. His hand jutted out, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back so fast and so hard that she stumbled into him, her head hitting his chin with a loud pop.
She whirled around and a jumble of words spilled from her mouth, from thanks to sorry to asking if he was okay. And that was when confusion set in. Her scent and voice were eerily familiar, but a lightning-quick mental tour of everyone he knew didn’t yield an answer. Her scent was especially appealing, and it intrigued him because it wasn’t a perfume or soap or any artificial fragrance. He’d gotten close enough to smell her.
He cleared his throat and practically shoved her away, which made her stumble forward. Feeling like an idiot, he reached for her yet again and caught her by the waist.
“Um. Wow. Thanks. For grabbing me just in time. The first time.” She shook her head, probably wondering why he was treating her like a rag doll. He felt like a fool. The woman moved away from him and hit the ground floor button again. The doors closed and the elevator made a loud, screech
ing sound. The lights flickered off.
One moment they were glancing at each other, alarmed, and the next they were in each other’s arms in the now pitch-dark elevator. Instinct made him duck into a corner, plant his feet wide, and tuck her head into his chest with one hand while wrapping his other arm around her waist. One of her hands pulled his head into the crook of her neck and shoulder, as if she were trying to protect him too, while the other grabbed hold of the railing behind him.
Less than a second later, the elevator lurched and dropped down the last six or so feet. They were lifted off their feet and slammed against the wall, but they held on tight and their combined strength softened the blow.
For a moment, neither moved. Their hearts were thundering against each other so hard he didn’t know whose was whose. “Wow. Are you okay?” he asked, looking down. He now had both arms wrapped around her waist while her arms were around his neck.
He felt her nod. “Are you?” she asked.
“Yeah. We’re lucky we weren’t up higher. Jeez.”
Slowly, they unwrapped their arms and stepped away. Johnny checked to make sure his limbs and neck were in working order. “Are you sure you’re okay? No whiplash or anything?”
“I’m sure. Everything works and nothing hurts,” she assured him.
He fished around for his cell phone and turned on its light. “I guess we should try the red button.” He shrugged and pressed it. They waited. A few minutes passed and nothing happened.
“Let’s try prying the door open,” she suggested. He shone his little light on the doors. They were shut tight, but he thought they might be able to stick something thin between them.
“Do you have anything on you that we could use to pry them apart?” he asked as he flashed the light around the tiny elevator.
“No,” she said on a sigh. “Just a few bobby pins holding my wig in place.”
Johnny shone the light along the panels next to the door and found a certificate. He tried the only phone number listed, but got a message explaining the office was closed and to dial 911 in case of an emergency.
