One Hundred Promises

by Kelly Collins

  “Come on in.”

  Sarge walked around the men as if sniffing for contraband or maybe looking for milk bones.

  “That’s Sarge, he’s harmless unless you pack heat or drugs. If that’s the case, you’ll most likely lose a limb.”

  Ethan looked down at Wes’s hand. “Learn that firsthand?”

  “Nah, I had a fight with a window sash. The sash won.”

  The men looked at his home. He saw the appreciation in their eyes when they took in the restoration work that had been completed.

  “Are you refurbishing this house on your own?” Noah asked.

  Wes led them to the dining room, where Dalton had left the rolled-up plans to the Guild Center. “I had help, but with the growth here in Aspen Cove, I’ve had to move my crews around. I’m short on qualified builders. That’s where I hope you’ll come in. Can I get you a drink? I’ve got water or beer.”

  Noah, who seemed to be the one in charge, said they’d take water. Wes didn’t mind if his crew had a beer at the end of the day. He often supplied a cooler full or bought the first round at Bishop’s Brewhouse, but it was good to see the Lockharts were on the same page and asked for water while working. That showed a sense of professionalism he appreciated.

  He grabbed five ice-cold bottles and returned to the dining room table, where he found the men sitting and staring at the rolled-up architectural drawings.

  “Go ahead, have a look.”

  Quinn was the first to reach for the plans. His smile grew when he flattened them on the table. The brothers set their water bottles on the four corners and stood above the pages.

  “Who’s the designer?” Bayden asked.

  “I am. The building belonged to my ancestors. It was important to respect the history while bringing the building into this century.” Wes skimmed the plans and smiled. He took great pride in the work he did. He’d designed a building that would pay homage to his ancestors and still provide modern amenities to its new occupants. There had to be a balance between old and new.

  “You’re going green with solar power and recycled materials,” Noah remarked. “I like that. We recently completed a large project in Fury for a development called Abundance. They went green too. Reviving small towns is where it’s at.”

  “I’m on the fence as to how revived I’d like to see Aspen Cove. I like it small, but I see the need for infrastructure and upgrades.”

  Wes spent the next two hours going over the plans. He was impressed with the Lockharts. They knew what they were doing. Each of the brothers had a specialty from electrical to plumbing. As they wrapped up their meeting, Sarge barked and took off down the hallway. Seconds later there was a screech and a crash.

  All five men rushed toward the sound of chaos. Lying in the entry surrounded by spilled produce was Lydia. No matter how much she struggled she couldn’t stop Sarge from licking her face. Finally, she screamed “Sitz!” The dog obeyed.

  Noah reached out a hand before Wes could offer his, and helped Lydia to her feet. He didn’t like the way Noah looked at her. Wasn’t happy with how she smiled at him and said thanks in her sweetest voice.

  She rubbed her bottom. “That dog is a nuisance.” Though she pointed at Sarge, her eyes were on Wes. “Seriously, he’s going to kill me before the day is over.” She looked from man to man until she’d made the rounds and her eyes came back to Wes. “Look at the mess he made.” She bent over and picked up the apples and oranges that rolled from her bag.

  “Are you all going to stand there while that beast eats everything?” By the door Sarge gobbled up an apple. “I’ll never understand men.” She gathered the spilled produce, picked up the bag, and walked past them into the kitchen. Like moths to a flame they followed her. She pulled a big bowl from the cupboard and filled it with the fruit.

  “Do you have more bags that need to come inside?” Bayden asked.

  “No, this was it but thank you for asking. At least one of you has some manners.”

  Wes stepped in front of the brothers. “Lydia, these are the Lockharts.” He pointed to each one and said their name.

  All four brothers stepped forward to shake her hand. Noah turned to Wes. “Your taste in women and projects are both excellent.”

  Lydia’s pffft sound turned their heads. “I’m not his woman. Can’t you see? The dog has claimed me.” Sitting by her side was Sarge. “I’m Lydia Nichols, and I’m temporarily filling in for Doc Parker while he recovers.”

  The brothers nodded. News of the fire had spread quickly. There wasn’t a person within a hundred-mile radius who hadn’t heard about Samantha and her arsonist manager. Now there wouldn’t be a person within that same radius who wouldn’t know about the hot little doctor in Aspen Cove. Wes wasn’t sure how he felt about that. All he knew was there was something raw and vulnerable about her. It showed in the way she strapped on her armor.

  “Awful thing,” they all mumbled.

  Lydia turned and continued to put her groceries away while the five men stared at her. Six if Wes counted the dog. She looked at them and said, “Are you waiting for your smiley face sticker or what?” She reached into her bag and took several packages of stickers out. She tore the plastic off one pack and put a sticker on each man’s shirt. When she got to Wes, he held up the hand that still had the inked face she drew earlier.

  “I’m good. I’ve got an original.” He turned toward the Lockharts. “Looks like we’ve been dismissed. I’ll see you guys tomorrow at the site. We’ll start with demolition and go from there.” Wes walked them to the door and came back to the kitchen to find Lydia frowning in front of her computer.

  He pulled two beers from the refrigerator and popped the caps before he handed her one. “You turned four bad-ass construction workers into six-year-old boys wondering how they could earn their next sticker.”

  She brought the beer to her lips and took a long drink. The furrow between her brows relaxed. Her frown flipped into a smile. “Only four of them?”

  “Sarge doesn’t care about stickers.”

  “What about you? I don’t imagine you’re a sticker kind of guy either.” Her eyes lifted from her screen to him.

  Those damn steely blue/gray eyes that took his breath away. Plump pink lips that guaranteed hours of memorable kisses. A body that could rock his world. Why did he always want what was bad for him?

  “Stickers don’t really do it for me.” He pulled out a chair and sat across from her.

  “Me either, but you should have seen Bailey Brown’s mom when I drew on her hand.”

  Wes was familiar with the Browns. He’d helped Hank build a smokehouse a few months ago and caught Bailey when she fell from the rafters. That little girl was a precocious little daredevil. “I imagine her mom’s head spun and she spit green soup. Cassidy Brown is a perfect example of a tiger mom, or maybe a helicopter parent.”

  “Most likely tiger mom. No way is she a helicopter parent unless her flight path was off that day because that kid managed to shove a perfectly good Skittle up her nose.”

  “Bailey takes after her father. Big balls, little brains. He once poked a grizzly to see if he could outrun it.” Wes would never forget that day.

  “Oh my God, what happened?”

  “I was fishing in the cove when Hank Bailey ran past me butt naked. Not a sight I’d wish on my worst enemy.” He leaned forward like he was telling a secret. “He dropped his clothes as he ran into the water hoping the bear would lose his scent. Turns out the bear kept his scent all right, but wasn’t interested in a man who showered only on Sundays.”

  Her face twisted. “Yuck. Seriously? No wonder Bailey popped that Skittle into her mouth without thought. No sense of hygiene.” Lydia tipped back her beer and gulped like she was trying to wash the taste of something bad away. “Cassidy looked like she bathed.”

  “They’re good people. They’re off-the-gridders who live up in the mountains in a rustic cabin. Hard to shower daily when you don’t have running water.”

  “Why
would someone want to live like that?”

  “Different people want different things. What do you want, Dr. Nichols? Seems to me that you’re not quite satisfied with your life.”

  She closed her eyes and scrubbed her face with her palms. “I’ve hit a few stumbling blocks recently.”

  Wes pressed his finger against her laptop, closing it with one push so he could get a better look at her. She appeared tired, or was that a look of resignation in her eyes?

  “Want to talk about it?” He was a good sounding board, a skill he’d learned from hard lessons. His whole life his father told him to listen, but he never seemed to heed his own advice. Talking to Nick Covington was like talking to a wall. Wes had made a promise to himself that if someone ever needed an ear, he’d give them both of his.

  Her neck popped as she rotated it. Long blond hair floated over her shoulders and curled at the top of her breasts. Breasts Wes knew without a doubt would be the perfect mouthful. Her pink T-shirt dipped just enough to show the milky white perfection of her skin.

  She rolled the cold glass bottle over the exposed part of her chest. He wondered if she realized how hot that was, or if she felt her nipples tighten under his gaze.

  Focus, man. You’re here to listen.

  “You ever feel like you’re swimming upstream?” She finished the beer and slid the empty across the table.

  He got her a fresh one and moved his seat closer to hers.

  “I used to but not anymore.”

  “What changed?”

  “My priorities.” Wes peeled the label from the bottle. When he was a kid, he and his friends believed if they could get the label off without tearing it, they’d get lucky. It never actually happened, but a guy could dream. He inched it free without a single tear and lifted it in the air like a trophy.

  She swiped it from his fingers and shredded it to pieces. “You still believe that works?”

  Wes chuckled. “Never has before. Are you offering to up my success ratio?”

  She tossed the paper into the air. Gold confetti floated down around them.

  “Sounds like you have my kind of luck.”

  He sipped his beer and took a long hard look at her.

  “I believe we make our own luck.” His stomach growled. “You hungry? I’m going to throw a pizza in the oven. You’re welcome to share it with me.”

  “Frozen pizza?” Lydia groaned. “Sounds like you got the same culinary training as my sister.” She stood, walked to the refrigerator, and pulled out a few items she’d brought home from the store. “I’ll make dinner while you tell me how I go about changing my luck.”

  She threw ingredients together into a frying pan. He had no idea what she was making, but it smelled good.

  “There is no such thing as luck in my mind. There are only choices. If the choices you make aren’t right for you, then your life might seem unlucky.”

  “So you’re saying because I’m unhappy my choices were bad. My choice to be a doctor wasn’t a good choice?” She turned down the heat and covered the pan before she came back to her beer and her chair.

  “No, that’s not what I said. When you’re at work, are you happy?”

  She pulled her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. Lydia Nichols didn’t look like the formidable physician who’d intimidated him into an unmanly swoon. She appeared childlike and uncertain.

  “Not everyone is happy every minute of the day, but yes, when I’m helping people get healthy, I feel happy.”

  “Were you happy when you helped me?”

  She looked at his still clean bandage. “Yes, helping you made me happy.”

  He smiled. “Glad I could be of service.” He liked her being happy around him.

  “It’s more than the work. I invested years to become a doctor. You’re right, I made a bad choice.” She cocked her head. “A few of them actually, and now I’m paying the price.”

  “Okay, so poor choices lead to unhappiness.”

  “Right.” With the neck of the beer bottle pinched between her fingers while she swung it back and forth, she opened and closed her mouth several times as if debating her words. “Sleeping with my boss was a bad choice.”

  Wes didn’t expect that. This wasn’t Taxicab Confessions, but the subject intrigued him. What kind of woman was Lydia? “Your boss?”

  “It’s a long story, but in college he saved my life. You know, the bee sting issue. When I showed up for residency, it seemed like providence. He was my mentor, and well...things happened. Then it went to hell.”

  He sat back and digested that information. “Older man?”

  “Yes, by ten years.” She brought her beer to her lips. “That’s not my thing. It just happened to be that Adam was older. I was so enamored with him and the initial attention he gave me.”

  “What happened?” He already knew the story or at least guessed it. There was no doubt Lydia was not Adam’s first or his last workplace fling.

  “He wasn’t forthcoming with me. He held back and didn’t communicate. He walked in and out of my heart like it had a revolving door. He took advantage of what I offered. He freeloaded until he had enough money to buy a house and get a new girlfriend. The worst part was I thought I’d get a position in the ER at Denver General based on my skills, but I was overlooked based on our breakup. Turns out I didn’t really know him at all.”

  “All right, so you didn’t get the job. Could you imagine working in the same department with him for years after a breakup? If you’re a believer in luck, not getting hired seems lucky.”

  “He wouldn’t even give me a reference, which is killing my chance at securing a job elsewhere.”

  “Why? I’d think he’d be happy to give you a reference to get you out of his hair.”

  She rose from the chair to stir the meal that smelled way better than the collective ingredients of chicken and vegetables should.

  When she turned around her face was red. Wes wasn’t sure if it was from the beer, the heat of the stove, or what she would tell him next.

  She fisted her hands on her hips and jutted one side out. “I’ve had a moment or two when things aren’t clear in my head, and I say or do things inappropriate for my age.”

  He remembered her comment about him not being cute. That was adorable because Wes knew every human had an inside child in need of nurturing. He’d run into his inner six-year-old many times without warning.

  “What did you do? Tell him he wasn’t as cute as you used to think?”

  She took a deep breath. “Never living that down, am I? You know, the more you remind me of my missteps, the less cute you become.”

  “At least I’m still cute.”

  She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Yes, you are, but it was worse than that.” She reached for her beer. This was a deep drink confession. “I had a picture of his junk and posted it in the lounge with the title I’m a dick.”

  “Did it make you feel better?”

  She gave me an are-you-crazy look. “It was awesome until people facebooked, instagrammed, and tweeted it. Adam McKay’s franks and beans went viral.”

  “I can’t imagine having your junk go viral is a bad thing unless…”

  She nodded. She held her fingers six inches apart and closed the gap to three. “Fully erect.”

  “Ouch. So what’s your priority right now?”

  Again she gave him a duh look. “Right now I need plates.” She went back to the pan and pulled it from the burner. “Long-term, I need a job.”

  “You have a job. I’ll get you plates.”

  He reached over her head for two dinner plates. The smell of her shampoo filled his nose. God, he liked peaches.

  “Working as a country doctor is not my dream job.” She dished up a chicken breast and a healthy serving of vegetables in some kind of creamy sauce. “If you could do anything, would you be here refurbishing houses?”

  Without reservation, he said, “Yes. This is exactly what I want to do.”

&nbs
p; “You’re lucky then.”

  He took both plates back to the table. “I told you it’s not luck. It’s choices.”

  She plopped onto her chair and forked a carrot. “You’re impossible.”

  Before he took a bite of what he knew would be the best meal he’d eaten in a long time, he said, “Yep, but don’t forget I’m cute.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sweat drenched her T-shirt. Hair tickled her nose. Lydia’s eyes popped open when a body moved beside her. Staring her in the face was Sarge, who’d snuck into her room last night.

  “Get off me, you beast.” She pushed at him, but the more she tried to move him, the more determined he was to stay. “Fine, you can stay for a few more minutes and then we have to get up.” One glance at her phone showed it was after ten. Never had she slept so late without coming off a double shift. Maybe it was the fresh Colorado air or the three beers she had while exposing her soul to Wes.

  The man had sat and listened to her for an hour. While he offered his opinion about her lot in life, it never came out as judgmental. He delivered his insights through thought-provoking questions—questions she’d asked herself like what made her happy. If the world ceased to exist tomorrow, what would be her biggest regret?

  “What about you, Sarge? If today was your last day, what would you do with it?” The dog stretched and moved in closer to coat her face with kisses.

  She laughed and buried her head under the blanket. “Just like a man.”

  In the distance, Wes called out Sarge’s name. The dog waited until he heard his owner say, “Come and eat,” before he bolted from her bed.

  Lydia threw off the covers and climbed out of bed. “Yep, just like a man all right. Food first, women second.”

  She walked into the bathroom, which smelled like citrus and pine. The adjoining door was cracked open. She shouldn’t snoop but couldn’t help herself. Wes confused her. He was everything she never wanted and yet he’d filled her thoughts since the moment she’d met him.

  When she opened the door fully, she wasn’t surprised to find an unmade bed and a pile of dirty clothes in the corner. A family picture sat on his dresser surrounded by change and gum wrappers. Wes wasn’t conventional in his choices. Where most people would have some kind of mint, Wes’s flavor choice was Juicy Fruit.