Black Creek Burning (The Black Creek Series, Book 1)

by R. T. Wolfe

  "Hello?"

  She groaned as she recognized the voice already walking through her foyer. Her boss was clearly lifting her nose to her as she looked her up and down.

  "I'm glad you could make it, Sandy." Not. "Did the windows turn out okay?"

  "I wouldn't miss it. Yes, they're good as new." Sandy handed her coat to Brie dismissively.

  "Cassandra, Susie, Randy, and some others are still here. A few have left already. You're later than usual this year. You'll stay for the countdown, I hope."

  She handed her boss a flute and reached for a bottle of champagne to fill it.

  "Yes, I partook in other engagements earlier this evening. Of course I'll stay."

  When the time arrived, guests slowly meandered to the basement where the TV was tuned to the big, red apple ready to begin its drop a minute before midnight. She spoke with Susie Phillips while checking the clock on the wall often.

  Noting the time, she excused herself and dutifully began topping off champagne glasses. The band stopped playing and everyone shouted a loud countdown as the apple started its sixty-second drop.

  Nathan held out his flute and she obliged. When she lifted the bottle, he took it from her and set it aside. Her insides began to bubble as his eyes locked on hers. He slid his hand around her waist, stopping on the small of her back. She felt the warm, firm skin from his hand between the silver strings of her jumpsuit. His face dropped closer to hers, stopping just before their lips touched.

  She could smell him, a mixture of wood and man. Flustered licks of heat erupted at the unexpected closeness. She wasn't ready for this. The muscles in her stomach lurched, and the air left her lungs as her eyes dropped to his mouth.

  "I'm going to kiss you," he said as a statement and curled his other hand around the nape of her neck. Her skin flamed beneath his fingers as they ran under the pieces of hair that escaped her pins. He drifted his thumb along her jawline, painfully slowly, before resting it under her chin.

  "I can see that."

  "You're trembling," he said as he used the thumb under her chin to lift her face closer to his. Her warm breath flooded his mind.

  "It's th-the champagne."

  "You've hardly drank a glass all night."

  Gently, he closed the distance between them. His lips brushed over her yielding mouth. He stopped and savored the taste of her before diving in. Gliding his hand possessively up her back, he pulled her body into him. There he found flesh. Stunning, sexy, smooth flesh.

  He parted her lips with his tongue and was lost. The taste of her sent him drifting. Her arms wound one around his back and the other over his shoulder. He heard a soft purr from deep in her throat as she fisted the back of his shirt. Their bodies fit together and their mouths moved in slow, cool sync.

  Just as quickly as he took her, he pulled away. The countdown was over. He kissed her quickly once more and placed his hands on her shoulders. As he looked at her, he slid them down her arms to her hands. Twining their fingers, they turned to send out greetings of the New Year to friends and family.

  More than one set of eyes watched the embrace. A fiery sensation burned between temples as one guest lifted a shaking glass of whiskey to dry lips.

  "I'm in no hurry. I will break you.

  "Fucking bitch."

  Chapter 8

  hands around the warmth of her coffee mug, Brie stood at her back door watching the sunrise. Long, wispy clouds swept orange and yellow along the horizon. It felt good to have family in the house again, even if it was just for a few days. She felt strangely refreshed after such a late night and already had much of the mess picked up.

  On the kitchen table, breakfast warmed under serving plate lids. She understood her nieces and nephews weren't tots anymore and would likely sleep late. So would the adults, she conceded.

  She looked at Macey. "Come on, girl. Let's take a walk."

  The geese on the lake were crammed into the area near the spillway that seemed never to freeze. Several flapped their gray wings as they woke like they were checking to make sure everything still worked after the long, cold night. Her dog ran without a leash around the field and near the water, scattering the flocks before they were ready.

  It wasn't long before Nathan's dog discovered them and darted down for a greeting. She thought of the toe-curling kiss with his owner as she used a fallen log to quickly cross the creek. She intended to head off the Lab before he could reach the water. Macey followed easily behind. The greeting between the two dogs seemed like more of a long-waited-for reunion, but she was able to steer Goldie's attention away from her dog with a whiff of the bacon she carried in her pocket.

  "Get a new dog?" Chase called to her as he walked down the frozen slope of the floodplain.

  "No," Brie said loudly while slightly turning her head. "This one belongs to a neighbor. What are you doing up so early?"

  "I could ask you the same. Is this the same neighbor you were lip-locked with last night?" He brought the mug to his mouth in a miserable attempt to hide his smile.

  "I was not locked and yes, this is his dog. Anyone else up yet?"

  "No. My family will sleep until the afternoon if I let them. Something going on between you two?"

  "No, I hardly know him." She sighed, then added, "He moved in not too long ago, and I'm a grown woman, Chase. I can kiss a man."

  "Just asking. What are you doing to him?" Chase tilted his head as she pulled Goldie with one hand over the creek and onto the fallen log. In her other hand, she dangled the bacon in front of his nose.

  "I'm not doing anything to him. I said it was just a kiss."

  "I meant the dog," he said as the two of them landed safely on the ground.

  "Oh." She pulled on her ear. "He gets out and comes to the house. He's already tracked creek mud through the kitchen and family room. I'm going to teach him to stay clean."

  "Probably just jump in after he walks across on the log. Remember catching crawfish in this creek? You had a knack for finding them." He stood with his free hand in the pocket of his coat.

  She moved back over the log nimbly, although the dog looked just as clumsy. "Just have to turn over a few rocks. Look for bubbles."

  Chase followed along without spilling a drop of his coffee. "Since I'm already halfway there, I'm going to go on and give Nathan Reed a house call."

  "What? Why?"

  "He invited me. Well, not necessarily for this morning, but his dog needs to be returned."

  Both dogs ran ahead and she and Chase followed. She softened at the sight of the worn path obviously made from the boys' sleds. There was another that looked like a footpath leading around the side of the house to the front.

  The backyard was a mess. Weeds as tall as her knees poked brown through the snow. The deck looked hazardous. She figured it was why they came from the front.

  She and Chase entered through the tidy garage. The doors were already up.

  "Whoa. Great space in here," Chase ogled. "Son of a bitch, look at his tools."

  "I won't mention to our brother you said that." She grinned at him.

  "Smart ass," Chase muttered as they peeked through the door leading to the mudroom/temporary kitchen that stood wide open—again. Brie gave her dog the command to wait outside, led the reluctant Goldie in and shut the door, still following her brother. Letting out a hello, a response came from the front of the house. They found Nathan sitting on the floor, leaning back against his front door. With legs straight out and crossed at the ankles, he stared up at his stairs. A notebook sat in one hand and a pencil in the other.

  "I noticed your family walks right on in to your house. I didn't realize it was a neighborhood thing," Nathan said while his eyes moved from the stairs to his notebook. He wore blue jeans worn at the knees and brown, lace-up work boots. His untucked Henley draped over the sides of his loose jeans.

  "You left your door open again. We brought your dog back." She hadn't been inside the house since they moved in. The rooms had been completely stripped
except for the floors, which were rows of battered wood.

  They craned their heads to see what Nathan was looking at. At that same time, they heard the mudroom door release and both dogs run through the open space like roller derby competitors.

  "Stupid dog," Nathan said as he tossed his notebook on the floor and stood up to grab hold of his overly excited Lab.

  "Not stupid. Not stupid at all. Very clever." She slowly shook her head in amazement while she watched the two bump shoulders. "He's opening your door to get out, or in this case, to let my dog in."

  Nathan stood very still for a minute. "Even though you seem to have a psychic connection with canines, I have to disagree. The dog has no thumbs and no general intelligence. That dog cannot open a closed door." He smiled at her with one side of his mouth.

  She took Nathan's hand and led him to the back of the house. Standing, she let out two short whistles. Macey trotted over and Goldie followed. "Watch." She pushed her dog back out to the garage and pulled his in the house, shutting the door once again. The three of them watched as Goldie didn't hesitate to use his mouth to turn the knob and open the door to the garage. This time the dogs escaped out to the back.

  "Well, I'll be damned."

  "Save yourself on your heating bill, Reed. Get yourself a child cover for the doorknob," she said.

  He shook his head and headed back to the foyer. Picking up his dropped notebook, he turned to her. "Are you here just to return my dog?"

  "No," Chase interrupted. "I came to take you up on your offer to show me what you've got planned for the place." Chase glanced at her. "I couldn't keep my sister from tagging along."

  Giving her brother a healthy smack on the arm, she motioned to Nathan's notebook. "Do you draw?"

  "No. No, not really, just sketching. Planning mostly." He started to stick the notebook in his back pocket.

  "Can I see?" she asked.

  Nathan shrugged and handed her the notebook while turning to Chase. "I was just figuring what to do with the stairs. I think I'm going to start from scratch."

  "This is what you call not really?" She turned the sketch to face Nathan and Chase.

  "Mmm. Give it back if you're going to embarrass—"

  "Nathan frigging Reed." Chase hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I knew I recognized the name. You're Nathan Reed. You own Woodridge Studio, don't you?"

  "Did. I sold the place."

  Brie looked from Chase to Nathan and back again.

  "What the hell are you doing here? Why did you sell? Sorry, none of my business. Are you still making pieces? I've got two end tables from your place... your old place. They're Greene and Greene. Mahogany with little square, ebony inlays and box joints." Chase wrung his hands and rocked up on his toes.

  "I know what tables you're talking about." Nathan stuck the notebook back in his pocket, slipped his pencil behind his ear and tucked his thumbs in his front pockets. "Made a few sets of them."

  "You still taking orders? I'd really like a coffee table to go with the end tables."

  She was confused as she watched the two of them. She'd never heard of the studio or Chase's obsession with upscale furniture. Her brother looked like when he was a kid working their mother to buy him a new instrument.

  She followed as they talked.

  "No. No orders. I'm on leave."

  "Not even for an across-the-creek neighbor's brother? After all, you did kiss my sister," Chase added with a toothy smile.

  "My priority is this place. I plan to have her done by summer's end. I also plan to kiss your sister again," Nathan said as he led them up the creaky stairs.

  "Standing right here," Brie murmured to herself.

  "I'll tell you what, if you still want it come fall, you'll be my first post-home-remodel order." They walked up the curving, creaky slats, then along the stripped hallway to the bedrooms.

  As Nathan opened the door to the first room, she drew in one deep breath. She stuck her chin out, walked in slowly and looked around. It was simply the most stunning room she'd ever seen. In it was the wood he had been beating on... distressing he'd called it. It was stained with a comfortable light color now, yet maintained the smooth look that made her want to touch it. It was all around the windows and doors and even crowned around the ceiling. The tops of the windows and doors held taller layers of wood.

  Arranged in the room over rows of thin strips of tight hardwood and a large rug was the furniture he'd brought with him from the South. The walls were painted a homey sage green with curtains and a messy bed comforter that matched. On the walls were two framed pictures, one of a house in a compact neighborhood with towering trees in the background, the other of a rocky beach along an ocean. She walked closer to look at the pictures and noticed the frames had pieces of something that looked like they were stuck in the wood. She ran her fingers over the silver pieces, then turned to look at Nathan with an expression he read.

  "Silver inlays."

  "How do you get them in there?"

  He lifted a corner of his mouth. "Carefully."

  Her eyes drew back to the picture. They were both signed Duncan Reed. "Duncan drew these?"

  "Yes. You can see why I don't claim to draw with him in the house."

  "Where are they?"

  "Still asleep in the next room. This is Andy's room. He generally makes his way into Duncan's sometime during the night. You usually do the floors all at once in a whole-house remodel like this one, but I decided to go ahead and get their rooms done."

  She felt a tug on her heart as she watched him speak of his nephews with all the adoration any father would show for his sons.

  Chase made his way to look out the back window. Curious, she followed. They looked toward the house that had been in their family for three generations. The double-leveled deck she had hired out blended well with the Victorian theme from up here. She couldn't see the basket weave pattern of the bricks on the patio she dug and laid herself from so far away, but the shape was nicely symmetrical.

  She noticed Chase staring down toward Nathan's huge backyard filled with weeds.

  "I know a good landscaper," he spoke up.

  Brie gave him a discreet elbow to his kidney.

  "You do? I've got that on my list, but seeing that summer is so far off—"

  "Spring or fall is when you do the work, and it's not far off," she couldn't help but interject.

  "Give me the name. I'll call," Nathan said.

  Chase answered, "It's Brie. I thought I was being sarcastic. She didn't tell you?"

  "Hmm," was all Nathan said in response.

  She enjoyed watching her brother's childlike enthusiasm oddly mixed with Nathan's slow swagger as he animatedly described his plans for moving walls, adding bathrooms, and enlarging the kitchen. He spoke excitedly about the projects that the boys would help with.

  Absentmindedly, Nathan placed his hand on the small of her back as they headed for the front door.

  It wasn't an absentminded gesture for her. The earlier tug on her heart changed to a solid punch. In her head she carried a short debate with herself about the foolishness of her reaction to such a mundane gesture. "I'm impressed. It seems... overwhelming. You can get this done by summer?"

  The dogs were crashed on the holey porch, sitting in the snow the same as they might by a cozy fire.

  "End of summer," Nathan corrected. "And remember, this is my job for now. The furniture's mostly built and waiting in storage."

  Nathan grabbed his dog as she split two, short whistles.

  "Thanks for the tour." Chase shook Nathan's free hand. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help. Or have Brie do to help so you can start on my table sooner." He smiled and headed around toward the back.

  * * *

  Pleasantly worn from taking down lights from fourteen homes in forty-eight hours, Brie lay in bed thinking back on the past few days. She and her siblings had told stories about their childhoods—embarrassing stories, heartwarming stories. Nodding, she though
t of the feeling of contentment from that part of her life.

  Her brothers had joined their sons in tussles over football. Her nieces had debated the true New Year's Eve Twister champion. Enough food had been made to feed a small country. She sent her brothers off with to-go bags of food. Kisses were passed and promises made to spend time with each other the coming summer.

  And the house had become silent again.

  Chase had tried to fill his role of eldest brother after their parents died, but Brie shut that off. His children were just reaching adolescence. It made more sense for Brie to handle the affairs since she lived locally. She had nothing and no one, then or now. It suited her. She preferred it that way, as Brian so aptly pointed out for her.

  She grinned as her mind flipped to the small tantrum her brother had pitched when Chase told him the Nathan Reed that bought the old farmhouse was Nathan Reed, founder of Woodridge Studio, and had agreed to make a coffee table for Chase's front parlor. His reaction confirmed that her new neighbor must have built up quite a business. She wondered what made him leave that kind of success. So his nephews could be closer to their grandparents?

  She thought of the conversations with her brothers and sister, reminiscing about their parents, this house and the neighbors who made this their own little retirement community. Gossip was that Clifford Piper had been spending an awful lot of time over at Lucy Melbourne's. Mr. Piper's house was near the entrance of the short cul-de-sac, just a few houses from hers. Brie could see it from the window as she rode in the back of a yellow car. A cab. This was familiar.

  Fear seeped into her spine. She couldn't quite think of why she would be afraid. Someone was walking. She remembered someone was walking. A couple. Don't take time to stare at them, she told herself. Don't take time to look at the red flowers her mother had planted as she walked in the moonlight. She felt an urgency to get in the house and then realized it was too late. It would always be too late. Failure and guilt took her.

  Everything came back. She knew she had to go in and watch her parents die and that she would be useless in saving them. She recalled that her legs weren't going to run. So, she just walked. She stood this time at the bottom of the stairs and let the tears stream down her face, feeling mortified that she was actually eager for the moment that her mother would turn to look at her one last time. When their eyes met, Brie simply cherished their last connection and brought her arms out to her sides waiting for the explosion. Her eyes opened and she was lying in her bed. She rolled over and buried her trembling body in her pillow until sleep took her.