On the far side of the room next to the fireplace, a separate, more intimate seating area would be perfect for reading or conversation.
“You’ve made progress.” The deep voice behind her startled Sunny and she gasped.
“Uh…yes. There is still much to do, but it feels good to see one room set.”
He walked around her and studied the space. A computer bag hung from one shoulder, he held a gym bag in one hand and what looked to be takeout in the other. “Looks fine.”
The two words were probably as close as she’d get to praise, so she took it as such. “Great, I’m glad you approve. I better get out of your way.”
“Would you like to share my dinner?”
The request caught her by surprise and she stared first at him then at the bag in his hand. “Sure.”
She followed Bryce to the kitchen where he expertly tore the take out container in half and split the noodle dish between the cover and the deeper part. He then tore open a smaller bag with two eggrolls and did the same. “There’s water in the fridge,” he instructed, pushing the deeper one toward her. “I have a fork around here somewhere.” He pulled open a drawer, inside of which were several plastic wrapped fork and napkin sets.
Sunny took the fork after getting a bottle of water from the almost empty fridge.
He’d begun eating, his gym bag at his feet, the computer bag next to the food on the kitchen counter.
Not liking the quiet, Sunny had to talk. “I found a young dog on the property. It’s black. Is he yours? He’s injured and is at the vet right now.”
He frowned. “Someone must have dumped him. I don’t own a dog.”
“I called this afternoon. He’s going to be fine. But they’re going to have to do a bit of surgery on his hind left leg. Poor thing.”
“Why don’t they put him down?”
Her eyes widened at him. “What? No, I couldn’t possibly do that.”
He shrugged and continued eating. Why had he asked her to share his meal if he obviously had no intention of having a conversation?
“So tomorrow the dining room will be painted. As you didn’t want the other bedrooms painted, the only space left is your bedroom and the kitchen. Did you see the gray swatches I left for your bedroom?”
“Yes, they’re fine.”
“You didn’t choose a specific one.” Sunny held back the urge to smack the man upside his head. Dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, he looked more approachable, but once you looked into the flat eyes, the thick walls were very obvious.
He looked to the ceiling for a moment and Sunny waited for him to say something obnoxious. Instead he let out a sigh and his shoulders dropped. “I’m color-blind.”
Chapter Five
The sooner the woman left, the better. From the sounds of it, her boss was not getting better soon enough and Bryce was at the point where he wanted to tell her the job was over.
She continued to watch him with interest, obviously expecting an explanation of his colorblindness. But he’d already blurted too much. No way was he going to let her know more about any of his weaknesses. Much to his annoyance, he’d invited her to share dinner. Mostly because the evening alone did not sit well and, besides riding the horses, which he’d done that morning, there was little to do.
“You can’t see any colors?”
“Not like you do.” He straightened and went to the refrigerator for a beer. “Would you like one?”
She shook her head. Her plate was still full as she’d taken his invitation to eat as one to hold a conversation. Sunny Stilton was quite attractive, appealing to his basic nature. The one that said settle down and start a family. The one he’d not let loose ever.
“Which spectrum can you see? Perhaps I should use a brighter color in your room. It would be too bright for most, but to you it will look different, more interesting. Calming.”
The muscles in his jaw automatically clenched. “The gray is fine. Pick one of those shades.” He pushed his empty plate aside and eyed her eggroll. She’d not touched it.
“You can have it, I’m getting full.” She speared it with her fork and held it up to him. How did she do that? The woman was not at all put off by him.
Sunny finished her meal and took both his and her empty containers and shoved them back into the bag, then placed them in the trash. “There, that was an easy clean up. Which reminds me. I didn’t see dishes and such on your list. Other than two coffee cups, there isn’t anything in the kitchen. You need glassware, plates, silverware and such.”
“I will consider what to do about that. I expect the caterer will bring those things.”
“What about a toaster?” She smiled at him and waved to the counter. “You could toast those bagels in the fridge that look about two years old.”
“They are only a couple weeks old,” he replied, relaxing. “Fine. Make a list of what is needed. I’ll have my administrative assistant order them.”
“I have plenty of room in the budget you gave me. I don’t mind doing it,” she responded, already walking in a circle, her gaze scanning the counters and cabinets.
He waited for the look. The flirty glance to convey propriety. The way most women tried to ingratiate themselves with a rich bachelor. “I’ll help you shop for stuff, we can do it together.” He’d heard it plenty of times from every woman he dated.
The designer ignored him and, instead, looked at a small plastic watch on her wrist. “Oh, goodness. I better hurry, I want to visit the puppy before they close up for the night.” She grabbed her bag and, without more than a distracted wave, was gone.
“No, no, no, not today,” Sunny exclaimed and slumped over her steering wheel. Once again she turned the key in the ignition to a light clicking noise. “Come on!” She slapped the dash, turned the key and the engine hummed to life.
“Yes!” She did a little dance in the seat and shifted to drive. The entire morning had been a fiasco, between the clinic calling to inform her that her stepfather had a rough night, to one of the painters calling in sick and now the stupid car delayed her another half hour. She pulled out of the clinic parking lot, drove through the corner coffee shop drive-thru and headed out to Forrester’s house.
The dog’s surgery was done early that morning. The vet had called to tell her the dog was resting comfortably. After everything settled, she’d head over to see the pup.
Just as she pulled into Bryce Forrester’s property, the sight of him on horseback took her by surprise. He galloped along the road toward the stables, a natural in the saddle. She wasn’t sure he’d seen her, hadn’t acknowledged her in any way, but given the moodiness of the man, it didn’t surprise her.
She didn’t want him there today. The man’s good looks were distracting enough, his austere nature even more so. The night before, sharing dinner, she’d wanted to get to know him better, and she had. He bristled at the idea of a woman wanting to take over any part of his life, he didn’t like to show any weakness, but at the same time, he was generous and quick to share. Oh, and she’d learned he was not soft-hearted when it came to dogs.
That was all she needed to know about the man she’d never see again after another week.
A couple of men waited for her by the back entrance. Sunny walked in with them just as the front doorbell rang. A delivery truck pulled up with more furniture.
They began to unload when Sunny noticed a picture on one of the boxes. “Oh no, that’s the wrong one.” She motioned for the men to put the box down. “I didn’t order any cherry wood.”
With uncaring expressions the men waited for further instructions. “Let me check the order. Please, wait a minute.” Sunny rushed inside and opened her laptop. As she scanned the order, a text came through from the vet. They wanted her to come pick up the dog that afternoon as they were closing early. If she left him over the weekend, it would cost six hundred dollars more.
She’d ordered the pecan wood. Just as she reached for her phone, it rang. The display made her blood run cold.
It was the hospital.
“Mr. Stilton just suffered a stroke.” The nurse’s voice sounded as if it came from a narrow tunnel. “You should come right away.”
“Take the furniture back, it’s the wrong color,” Sunny called to the deliverymen from the front door. They gave her a quizzical look, probably since she was crying and her nose always turned bright red when she cried.
“We’re here to deliver. You have to make arrangements for it to be picked up and returned,” one of the men, a burly, bearded man who was obviously less intimidated by a crying woman spoke up, his gaze anywhere but her face.
Sunny sniffed and wiped at her tears. “Fine, whatever, then put it in the empty room where all the boxes are stacked. Find a way to squeeze it in.”
One of the painters came and watched and she pushed a clipboard and pen to him. “Sign for it, please. I have to go. I have a family emergency.”
“No way,” he backed away. “I am not signing for nothin’.”
“Oh my God,” Sunny covered her face with both hands. “Here,” she signed for the furniture and rushed to her car, which, of course, was blocked in by the truck. Suppressing the urge to scream, she turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened.
This time not even a click sounded.
Chaos greeted Bryce when he walked into the house. A painter argued with a man about signing something. Furniture was piled haphazardly in the front room, blocking the hallway to his bedroom.
On the kitchen island, there as an open laptop, coffee cup and remains of a bagel. Next to it, on the floor, were some shopping bags and what looked to be makeup had spilled from it.
He approached the men. “What do you need signed for?”
“The furniture,” the man replied. “The woman signed the wrong paper.”
The painter nodded. “She’s having some kind of mental crisis or something, ran out crying.”
Shit.
Bryce eyeballed the furniture. Looked to be bedroom furnishings. “Put the furniture in the first bedroom down the hallway to the left. Once that is done, I’ll sign.” He stalked off to the front door not waiting to hear any excuses.
At first he didn’t see her. When he rounded the delivery truck, her car came into view. It was an older, silver, Kia SUV. Sunny sat in the driver’s seat staring straight ahead not moving.
He knocked on the window and she jumped. Instead of lowering the window, she opened the door, but didn’t move to get out of the car. “My car won’t start.”
“You are needed inside. After your work is complete for the day, you can call a tow company or whatever.”
She bit her bottom lip, but not before he caught the quiver. He prepared for her excuse after the attempt to get sympathy. “My stepfather just had a stroke. I have to go see about him. I will come back as soon as possible. Please…”
“Miss Stilton, that is not my problem, but something you should consult with your company about.” He turned away and walked back to the house hearing the slam of her car door.
He went to his bedroom to get dressed for work, not wanting to spend any more time dealing with whatever happened with the woman. Yet he kept going back to what she’d said. Why would anyone care what happened to a stepparent? It wasn’t as if the man was blood. She’d seemed genuinely upset. Either that or she was a good actress and experienced in getting men to fall for her tricks.
“Mr. Forrester?” Half an hour later, when Bryce walked back into the front rooms, the painter who he’d spoken to earlier came toward him. “The men want your signature. They’re outside.”
“Where’s Miss Stilton?”
“A taxi came and took her somewhere.”
Bryce forced a neutral expression. “Fine. Call it a day. Everyone go home.”
He and the woman would have a serious conversation in person. Either she’d take the job seriously or she’d be fired that evening.
Chapter Six
The first thing he noticed upon arriving at home that evening was a bouquet of flowers on the kitchen counter. Next to the vase was a small florist envelope. Bryce read it.
I want to try again.
I love you,
Carla.
He dropped the note and put his bags down. Music came from the direction of his bedroom. He’d noted the designer’s car in the driveway. He’d thought she’d left it because it didn’t start, but now he wondered.
If it was Carla in the bedroom, then perhaps he’d allow her to spend the night. It would be a mistake since the woman wanted a commitment, but having sex would be a good way to spend the night. Only if she agreed to keep it casual.
With purpose, he walked to his bedroom only to stop at the doorway at what greeted him.
The room was empty. In the center was a dog bed upon which a small, black dog was curled up. It lifted its head at seeing Bryce and wagged its tail.
On one side wall atop a ladder was the designer. She was edging while singing off key to the song playing from a tiny speaker on the floor next to a can of paint. He couldn’t help but notice her long, shapely legs as she wore sweats that only came to her knee.
Her stepfather must have made a miraculous recovery by the looks of it.
“Miss Stilton.” Bryce was angry. Not only had she ruined his plans for the evening by not being Carla, but now he didn’t have a place to sleep. The fact that the dog seemed comfortable, for some reason, annoyed him even more. “Come down, please.”
Her rounded eyes met his and he noticed a splash of color on her nose. “Hello.”
Hello? That’s what she had to say? He swallowed and took a breath. “Where’s my bedroom furniture?”
“In the bedroom on the other side of the house.” She bit her lip. Now he saw it was a nervous gesture. Which, of course, was also very sexy. “Your clothes, however, are still in here.” She pointed to his closet.
“I see.” He took a step closer to her; the reason he wasn’t sure.
“I didn’t move it because all of it will be back in here tomorrow morning.” She couldn’t move back or she’d back into the wet wall.
“I am not pleased you left today.” He wanted to upset her, to not feel the damn urge to reach out and touch her.
Sunny let out a shaky breath. “I understand.” When she swallowed, he noticed the slender neck, her fast breaths. “My stepfather is better, so I came back to get some work done. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t mix business with pleasure. However, I feel compelled to break my own rules.”
When her gaze went to his lips, he took it as an invitation. He cupped the base of her head and held her steady as he leaned toward her. The touch of their lips immediately sent his body to full alert.
Although she placed her palms flat on his chest, she did not push him away. He deepened the kiss, leisurely pulling her against him until their bodies were flush.
The moment felt too perfect, her body fit too well against his but instead of stopping, he wrapped his arms around her and dove in to her.
She opened her mouth allowing him in and shuddered. Their tongues tangled in the lover’s dance until he could barely stand to keep from pushing her to the floor and laying over her.
The dog whimpered, breaking the spell. “Oh.” Sunny pushed away and gulped. “Oh, goodness. What happened? Sorry…umm, yeah. I better go.”
She rushed to the center of the room, yanked up the startled pup, bed and all, and hurried away, leaving Bryce alone with what he now realized was some sort of country music.
Great. He stalked from the room just as his phone rang. He lifted the cell phone to his ear. “Carla? Thanks for the flowers.”
“Shit, shit, shit.” Sunny drove home ensuring to not swerve too much in case the little dog was prone to car sickness. Instead, it seemed content to rest in its bed and watch her with interest. “What did I just do?” she asked the dog who seemed to listen. “I let him kiss me. I don’t even like the man. He’s an ass. Am I that lonely? Wait, don’t answer that. Of course I am. I haven’t be
en on a date in months. I haven’t had sex in almost a year.” She petted the dog’s soft fur. “Don’t listen to me. You’re too young to know what I’m talking about.”
She pulled into the hospital parking lot and looked to the slumbering dog before cracking the windows. It was chilly, but the dog had blankets over it, so she didn’t worry about it getting cold as she headed to check on her stepfather. Her mind was awhirl with how she’d handle the situation with Bryce Forrester the next day.
The best course of action, of course, would be to pretend it never happened. It was more than likely just a moment, didn’t mean anything. Two single people, music and all that. However she couldn’t stop thinking of how good his body felt. He was oh-so-perfect. The muscles under her palms were hard, his heartbeat so strong when she’d been against him. Oh, and that expensive soap he wore, intoxicating to every single sense.
It killed common sense apparently.
The swoosh of the automatic doors gave way to the disinfectant smell of the hospital as she walked to the nurse’s station. “Good evening, Laura and Peggy,” she greeted the women who smiled in return. “I brought you these.”
She placed a small tray of cookies she’d picked up on the way in front of them. “How’s Dad?”
Peggy, the older one frowned. “He’s resting. It seems he’s a pretty resilient man. The stroke was mild and he’s expected to be fine in a couple of days. You can stop by for a moment, but don’t wake him if he’s asleep.”
Blinking back tears of relief, Sunny entered the dim room and moved to the bed. She peered down at the sleeping man and gulped back the urge to cry. He was all she had left. Had taken the place of a full-time parent after her mother died. They’d only been married two years; Sunny was six when her mother was killed in an automobile collision with a drunk driver.
Douglas Stilton had fought her mother’s family to adopt Sunny. Once getting custody, he’d then taken the task of single parenting, never failing her. Present at every event at school, he’d even taken vacation days from his job at the local appliance plant to chaperone field trips and volunteer for school fairs. Although they’d never had a lot of money, she’d never wanted for anything. Her stepfather always put Sunny first.
Champagne and Cowboys Page 12
