by Diane Darcy
Better, but the big cushion was a little soft and she sank down into the seat.
“Third time’s a charm.” She moved to the last and smallest chair and settled in.
It was just right.
She pulled the comforter off the back of the chair, it stuck a little, so she gave a tug to free it, then spread it over her knees, and settled back to relax.
A creaking sound accompanied a wrenching, jarring movement, and the chair broke apart, throwing Honey to the floor where she banged her hip. Horror and disbelief rushed through her as, flat on her back, she stared up at the log beam running across the ceiling.
Panting a little, she struggled out of the mess and stood. Both hands flew to her mouth and her face burned as she frantically eyed the mess. “This is unbelievable. How could this happen?”
The log and cushion chair lay broken in pieces, a couple of clamps gripping the wood in strategic places, and a few more clamps scattered on the floor amid the mess.
Someone had been fixing the chair.
The throw-quilt over the back had hidden the clamps and she must have pulled one loose when she’d tugged on the blanket and her weight had done the rest.
“This is so awful,” she whispered.
Reaching down, she pulled at one piece of wood and it came completely free of the others. She closed her eyes for a moment, then glanced around. “What do I do?”
She felt like grabbing her stuff, running out, and leaving forever. She actually stared at the door for a long moment before remembering the glue on the mantle.
Maybe she could fix the chair? Re-glue and re-clamp it? Maybe the Baron family wouldn’t be home for a while longer?
She thought about calling Nick for advice, but quickly threw out the notion. Her boss had sent her to charm them, not to destroy their property.
Her dad? He didn’t know a lot about fix-it stuff, but probably more than she did. Or Christian might be able to help, but again, she knew he wouldn’t answer the phone. She blew out a breath and looked at the mess. This didn’t look like something that could be explained over the phone, anyway.
So what should she do? Leave it and try and explain the cringe-worthy mess to her hosts?
She shook her head once more. She had glue, she had clamps, she had to at least try.
***
Forty minutes later, she was done. The chair was upside down, but back together, and she didn’t dare try to turn it over again. She wasn’t out to hide what she’d done, anyway. She’d glued and clamped the three pieces, and it looked okay. She was going to bed. Explanations could wait until morning.
She stood, and from the higher perspective, the chair looked kind of...off.
Tears filled her eyes. She’d just pay for the darn thing. She’d buy them a new one. Even if it was custom-made and ended up costing her a months wages.
Feeling tired, cranky, and frustrated, Honey grabbed her suitcase and went upstairs to look for a bed. There were four doors, and the first opened into a bedroom overlooking the front yard. She flipped on the light and peeked inside.
A queen-sized bed, a nightstand with a picture of a group of kids, an alarm clock, and a book. A rocking chair sat in the corner. There were no personal effects, but the gorgeous cream-colored quilt on the bed was obviously handmade and sported ducks, coyotes and pine trees. It definitely looked like a guest room.
She walked in, dropped her purse and suitcase, sat on the bed and bounced on the mattress. There wasn’t much give. In fact, it was hard.
She sighed. This night just kept getting better and better. She turned her head to the open closet door, and shot back off the bed. Clothes hung in the closet, and boots and shoes neatly lined the floor. She quickly gathered her things and left the room.
The second door led to a big bathroom with a tile floor, a vanity with matching basins and silver-framed mirrors, and both a shower and a jetted tub. Nice. Very nice. She could picture herself taking a bubble bath, but not tonight. Not when her hosts could arrive home at any moment.
Going to the third door, she went inside, flipped on the light and looked around. A huge, foam cushion chair dominated the floor. A big screen television was situated against one wall, an X-Box and DVD player on the beside it. Games and DVDs were on a nearby shelves. It was conceivable that it could be a guest room. Children would certainly enjoy sleeping on the giant, oversized cushion.
Going inside the room, she set her things down and gingerly sank down on the foam-filled suede. It was very soft. She lay back and wiggled. Probably too soft. She really couldn’t see herself sleeping there the entire night. She felt like she might sink right inside and suffocate. Getting up, she hoped for better luck with the last door.
Pushing it open, she went inside and breathed a sigh of relief. A king-sized bed dominated the room and a few hunting trophies graced the top of the dresser, but no family pictures or anything like that. A gray quilt spread over the bed. Nice, but spartan. Out of the three, this had to be the guest room.
Dropping her purse and bag, she sat on the bed. The mattress was much nicer. Kicking off her shoes, she sank full length on the bed, pressed her face into one of the pillows and sighed. It was better than nice. Not too hard, not too soft, it was just right.
Rolling off the bed, she retrieved pajamas and toiletries and headed for the bathroom. At this point, she didn’t even have a desire to meet up with the owners until morning. If she’d blown the deal when she’d broken the furniture, tomorrow would be soon enough to find out about it.
She brushed her teeth, pulled her thick hair back into a ponytail, washed off her makeup, and accidentally drenched the front of her hair in the process. She dried her face with a towel, and quickly patted her hair but it was too late. It started to curl. The tiniest hint of moisture and she frizzed out. It had taken her forever to straighten it that morning. Tears pricked her eyes again. Frizzy hair was the final straw.
Wasn’t it enough that she’d worked a full day, had a fight with Christian, driven three hours, and then all the problems she’d encountered here at the client’s house? Not to mention she was starting her brokerage class in the morning, and was completely stressed out about that? And now curls?
She needed to get hold of herself. She knew that. She dried her eyes, blew her nose, gathered up her things, went back to the guest room and shut the door. She put her stuff down and climbed into bed.
She’d unpack in the morning after she had an inkling about how long she’d be staying before moving to a hotel. Right now all she wanted to do was to escape into dreamland.
***
Trevor Baron turned onto his driveway. It was almost midnight and all he wanted to do was eat the turkey dinner his mom had promised to leave, and then fall into bed.
Another day or two and he’d be finished with the backbreaking schedule he was on.
There was a car parked on one side of the driveway in his spot. It took him a moment to realize the vehicle must be his sister’s new car. He’d heard her jerk-off husband had bought one as a bribery gift. Since Elizabeth was at Trevor’s house, he’d guess it hadn’t worked. No surprise there. His sister wasn’t the kind of woman to forgive infidelity, or to forget.
He went for the mail and on the way back to the house, reached into the bed of his truck, grabbed three fishing poles-–minus hooks--and propped them by the side of the cabin.
He knew the three boys he’d taken them from would eventually work up the courage to steal them back, and knew the lack of hooks, and the fact that the boys had been caught fishing illegally, wouldn’t stop them from doing it again. It hadn’t stopped him at that age, either.
Smiling, he continued to the back gate, opened it, and let himself in. “Hey, Charlie boy. Come here.”
A dark form moved toward Trevor and a big head bumped against his hand.
“You eat all that food I left out?”
Trevor checked the dog dishes, one empty and one still half-full of water. “Good boy.”
Trevor went
down on one knee and rubbed the dog’s thick fur coat while Charlie, ecstatic, wiggled like a puppy. With one last pat, Trevor opened the back door–-no need to lock it with Charlie in the back yard-–and they both went inside.
Charlie immediately bounded up the stairs, probably looking for Elizabeth, and Trevor headed for his office.
He was tired. He’d worked the entire day, putting in a full eight hours, most of it rounding up a deer wandering the city and returning it to the forest. He’d then talked to reporters about the incident.
After some routine paperwork, he’d taken time to catch the kids doing their spot of illegal fishing, then back to work for the rest of the evening repairing some commercial property for the family company.
All the painting he’d done had made his back sore. But only a few more nights and the building would be ready to lease again and he could relax.
Opening his safe, he locked his gun away, set his belt on the desk and went back to the kitchen to get his dinner.
He opened the fridge.
No dinner.
Had his mom forgotten him? A note on the countertop caught his eye and he kicked the fridge shut and snagged it. I’ve left a plate of food for you in the fridge. Love, M.
He checked again. The milk, ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise weren’t hiding a plate of food. He checked the freezer. Nothing.
Thinking about Elizabeth’s car in the driveway, he opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the garbage. Sure enough. A used sheath of tin foil lay on top and had very likely covered his plate of food.
Well, that was nice.
He rubbed a hand over his full beard, blew out a breath, then got out fixings for peanut butter and honey sandwiches. He slathered four slices of bread, and poured himself a large glass of milk.
He took his plate and glass out to the living room, set them on an end table, grabbed the remote control, sat and turned on ESPN.
It was on the wrong channel and--
His chair! Jumping up, he quickly scanned the poorly repaired chair, then glared at the stairs and considered waking Elizabeth to have a talk. But she had at least tried to fix it and that surprised him, so, disgusted, he changed the channel to ESPN, quickly ate and, with Charlie now back and watching his every move, spent the next thirty minutes re-glueing the chair correctly, and placing the clamps where they’d actually do their job.
He finally turned the chair around carefully set it in the corner so Elizabeth wouldn’t forget and sit in it again.
It was time for bed. In the morning, he was going to have a talk with his sister because this was getting out of hand. She needed to work out her marriage problems on her own time. Or at least in her own house. Or at their parents’ place if she had to go somewhere.
With Charlie following, Trevor climbed the stairs, walked down the hall, opened the door, and absolutely couldn’t believe it.
She was in his bed!
Talk about selfish!
He wouldn’t lose his temper. They could discuss this like the two grown adults they were. How much could a man be expected to take from his big sister? She could stay in his house, she could even eat his food and break his furniture. But danged if she was sleeping in his bed! She could take the spare room. There was a reason that mattress was uncomfortable. He didn’t like guests!
He flipped on the light and his sister sat up, looked to where he stood in the doorway, and sucked in a loud breath.
The only problem was, it wasn’t his sister.
Chapter Two
Trevor took a deep breath as he took in the fantasy girl occupying his bed. She had wide blue eyes, a mass of blonde curls springing around her face in a cloud, and a nightgown clinging to a well-endowed chest. Wowsa.
He finally exhaled. “Oh, sorry. I’m sorry.” He stepped out into the hall, shut the door, and stood looking at the wood as his heart pounded and he wondered what to do.
A moment later, he pushed the door open again, stuck his head inside, and tried not to stare. “Um, now who are you, exactly?”
The girl cringed away from Charlie, who sniffed at her legs.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Baron. You startled me. I’m Honey Stevens, the realtor.”
Honey. Like her voice. Her hair. And the smooth silky skin of her arms. Okay, now he was staring. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Okay. Sorry to disturb you. I’ll just turn off the light. Come on, Charlie.”
The dog reluctantly followed and they both slowly walked downstairs. Trevor went into his office, shut the door, and dialed his parents’ place.
“Hello?” His mother’s voice was questioning, anxious.
“Hi, Mom. It’s Trevor.”
“It’s after midnight. Is something wrong?”
Trevor took a breath. “Look. Um.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing’s wrong...exactly...but there’s a gorgeous girl in my bed and I’m not sure what to do about it.”
There was a short silence on the other end of the line and then his mother laughed for a long moment before she finally said, “Sweetie, you’re thirty-two. If you haven’t figured that out yet, you’d better talk to your father.”
Trevor groaned. “Very funny, Mom.”
His mom laughed again. “I thought so. So who is she?”
Trevor sank down onto his leather office chair. “A realtor named Honey Stevens.”
“Oh. Right. So that’s where she’s got to. We’ve been expecting her,” she said. “Your dad’s doing some business with her. So you think she’s gorgeous? How old is she? Is she nice? Is she married?”
“Strangely enough, I didn’t ask,” he said sarcastically.
“You know, I don’t think she is married. If I remember right, her boss mentioned her being single.” She paused. “You know, maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. I’ve been worried about how lonely you are rattling around in that big house by yourself, missing your wife.”
“I’m not lonely. And I don’t miss my ex-wife.” The idea was ludicrous.
“You know, I have an idea. Maybe--”
“Hold it. I don’t think I like where you’re going with this.”
She chuckled. “No, wait, hear me out. This actually could work out for the best. If Miss Stevens stays at your place, we’ll have room for the unexpected company arriving in the morning.”
“What unexpected company?”
“My sisters.”
Trevor narrowed his eyes. “When was this planned?”
“Oh, ages ago.”
Trevor didn’t believe her. “You have three guest rooms.”
“Elizabeth is staying and her kids are here, as well.”
“Uh, huh. Well, we can send the girl to a hotel.”
“No, we can’t do that.” His mom sounded shocked. “We invited her to stay.”
Trevor threw his free hand up in the air. “Look, I’ll pay for the hotel.”
“No, it’s not that. What will she think of us if we go back on our word like that?”
“Mom, she doesn’t even know any of us. What do we care what she thinks?”
His mother’s sigh was pure martyr. “I’ll know. If we go back on our word to her, I’ll think about it for the rest of my life.”
Trevor ground his teeth. “Make whatever plans you need to make, but I don’t want to be involved in this.” He was getting loud. He glanced up at the ceiling, then took a breath. “Bottom line is she is absolutely not staying here,” he said, quieter this time.
“Don’t worry about groceries, I’ll have Elizabeth pick some up. Maybe we could plan a couple of get-togethers, too. I’m sure your aunts would love to meet her and--”
She wasn’t listening to him. He rubbed his forehead. He scared grown men armed with rifles on a regular basis. Hunters and fishers regularly flinched in fear at his approach. His mother? Not even a tremor. He decided to try a different tact.
“Mom.”
She stopped mid-sentence.
“What about appearances?” he said. “Do you want your friends and family talking about th
e fact that I have a girl living here with me?”
“Oh. You are absolutely right.”
Trevor let out a sigh. Finally he was getting somewhere.
“I’ll send Elizabeth to stay with you, too.”
He sat up straight. “I don’t want Elizabeth here! Do not send Elizabeth. The last thing I need is to get sucked into her problems.”
“I insist. You can’t stay there alone with the girl. We’ll keep the grandkids here. Anyway, It’ll be good for both of you. You haven’t spent much time together lately. And Elizabeth won’t talk to us about her problems. Maybe she’ll open up to you.”
How could a madwoman sound so reasonable? “Mom. Stop.”
He rubbed his neck. “Why are you doing this to me? Just come get the girl in the morning. I don’t even want her here for a couple of nights. I don’t care how you do it, or where you put her. I want her gone.”
“Oh, it’s not just a couple of nights. Didn’t I tell you? I understand she’ll be in town for two or three weeks.”
Trevor’s mouth gaped open. He clamped it shut again and slammed his palm down on the desk. “Absolutely not. You’ve got to listen to me. I just want to be left alone! Get her out. I mean it.”
“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll arrange it all. Have a good night, dear. Love you.” A click sounded on the other end of the
line.
Trevor looked at the phone. Charlie whimpered and Trevor glanced at him, set the phone back in its cradle, and leaned forward to pet the dog’s head. At least Charlie was sympathetic.
Trevor blew out a breath. He wasn’t putting up with this. He’d get up early and be gone before Ms. Stevens woke in the morning. He’d call his mom from work, hope she was sane in the daylight hours, and talk her into removing the girl. He wouldn’t even have to see her again.
Now if he could only erase her image from his memory.
Those eyes. That hair. That body.
