Red lips rosebudded before Gran sighed. Laurel glanced over, feeling bad. Sort of.
“Sorry,” she said gently. “But you really do need to back off.”
Gran nodded, then said, “You mind if I ogle, then? Because cute butts are in very short supply where I am.”
“Knock yourself out. Just don’t be obvious, ’kay?”
“’Kay.”
The parking area—calling it a lot would be pushing it—was virtually deserted when they pulled in, save for a banged-up white Subaru that looked vaguely familiar. A big sign steered them around to the loading dock in back, where an open garage door served as an entrance...and Boomer as the receptionist. Although he’d been snoozing in a patch of sunshine, at Laurel’s and her grandmother’s approach he jumped to his feet and trotted over, a quivering, whining bundle of joy.
“Where’s your human, boy?” Laurel asked, bending over for some of that slobbery loving. “Where’s Tyler?”
“Not here,” said the fresh-faced little blonde in overalls and work boots standing in the open entry. A little blonde Laurel remembered seeing before, leaving Tyler’s house early one morning. Ah. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Laurel. Ty’s neighbor—?”
“Oh, yeah, he said you might be over. To look at the fountain, right? Come on around, it’s out back with the other yard stuff. No, Boomer, you stay here. I’m Abby, by the way. Ty’s sister.”
Sister. Got it. “And this is my grandmother, Marian McKinney—”
“And aren’t you the cutest thing going?” Gran said with something like a cackle. “You know, I think Edith Avery’s got a grandson about your age—”
“Gran! For heaven’s sake! Oh, my goodness...” Laurel stopped dead at the sight of all the fountains and statues and suchlike positioned helter-skelter around what had been the parking lot, once upon a time. “Where on earth do you guys get all this?”
“Demos, estate sales, landscape outfits going out of business...” The blonde shrugged. “People bring stuff to us, too. So here’s the fountain,” she said, leading them over to where the piece was propped up against a chain-link fence. A fence topped with barbed wire. And a surveillance camera—one of several, Laurel could now see as she glanced around.
“Is that it?” Gran said, coming closer.
Laurel returned her attention to the fountain, the lion with his chipped nose staring blindly out from the center of the ornately detailed back, the intricate pattern occasionally interrupted by more missing chunks. “Yes,” she said, falling immediately and completely in love. “What do you think?”
“We had one a lot like this,” Gran said, fingering the rim of the equally embellished bowl. “When I was a girl, in my parents’ yard in Princeton. Not the same color, a little smaller, but...oh, my. Does this take me back.”
Laurel wrapped her arm around Gran’s shoulders, giving her a hug before reaching out to caress the lion’s head. Then she softly gasped.
“Wait...it’s marble?”
“Rosetta, yeah,” Abby said. “Can you imagine what it must’ve looked like back in the day? You don’t find carving like that much anymore. Of course, it’s kind of banged up, which is probably why nobody wants it—”
“Because people are idiots,” Gran said, and both Laurel and Abby laughed.
“And your brother is nuts,” Laurel said, adding, at the girl’s snort, “Even in this condition, it has to be worth a fortune—”
“And I told you,” she heard behind her, “it’s not worth anything if I can’t sell the damn thing.”
She turned to see Tyler, fingers tucked into his jeans pockets, his goofy-looking dog sitting all kittywampus beside him, tags jangling and dust poofing around him as the mutt scratched his floppy ear.
“From the picture, I assumed it was cast concrete. Not...” She turned back, her heart beating a little faster. “This.”
“Well, it isn’t. Of course, if you don’t like it—”
“No, it’s beautiful! In fact...” Shaded by a lone, straggly elm on the other side of the fence, the smooth stone was cool under her fingertips. “It’s exquisite. Exactly as it is.”
“Then what’s the problem—?”
“Hey,” Abby said to Gran, “how’s about I show you around inside—?”
“You’re on,” Gran said, and the two of them hustled away, gabbing like old friends, Abby slapping her thigh to get the dog to follow them...leaving Laurel alone with a man who, standing there with a frown gouging his forehead, was sending her poor, neglected hormones into a veritable tizzy. And that, boys and girls, was the problem.
Big-time.
* * *
Tyler crossed his arms, trying not to react to how pretty Laurel looked in her floaty red dress, her hair all shiny in the sunlight. He’d been watching for a while, taking in the scene—the little ooh sound she made when she first saw the piece, the way she hugged her grandmother—and for a second he’d been unable to breathe, let alone speak.
Then a breeze plastered the dress to the baby mound under it and he thought, Yeah. Right.
No.
“The problem is,” she said, coming close enough for him to get a noseful of her perfume, “that I wouldn’t feel right about accepting something this valuable. I’m sure the right person will come along who can pay you what it’s worth—”
“You like it or not?”
“That’s not the point—”
“Yes, it is. Well?”
“I already told you I do.”
“Then it’s yours. Hey,” Tyler said when she started to protest again, “it’s mine to do with what I like.” He paused. “And if you take it, then maybe I can see it sometimes.”
“So if you love it so much, why don’t you put it on your side of the wall?”
“Have you seen my yard? It’d be like sending Queen Elizabeth to Walmart.” When she chuckled, he said, “And don’t give me any of that ‘it’s not practical’ crap. Because life isn’t only about being practical...sometimes it’s about doing what makes you happy.”
“And you think this fountain will make me happy?”
“Judging from the look on your face when you saw it? I’m guessing, yeah. But giving it to you makes me happy, too.”
“Because...?”
“It just does, don’t think about it too hard. So you wanna see inside, long as you’re here?”
After a moment, she nodded. “But I’m not saying yes to the fountain. Not yet, anyway.”
Tyler bit back his smile. “No hurry.”
Like he did every time he entered the warehouse, Tyler felt a warm little tingle—that, after a few pretty rocky years, he’d found something that worked, and worked for him, something he could be proud of. Something that was his. Well, his and the bank’s. Except then he got another tingle, that hot damn if he hadn’t renegotiated that loan to his and Abs’s advantage, saving them a nice little chunk of change over the coming years—
“This is hugely impressive,” Laurel said, glancing around, grit crunching underfoot on the cement floors as they passed a rack of dozens of old wood doors, ranging from basic to majestic, then mantels and fireplaces, window frames and even entire staircase railings in cherrywood, mahogany, maple. At the far end of the floor, they heard Abby’s and her grandmother’s muffled conversation, punctuated by occasional laughter. Laurel smiled.
“Gran’s in heaven, in a place like this. And something tells me she and your sister are two peas in a pod. Did you and Abby collect all this stuff yourself?”
“Not all, no. We bought the business from somebody I’d known for a long time, so we started out with a good inventory. Guy needed to sell fast because he and his wife were moving out West to be with their kids, and they’d already bought a house, so Abs and I, we pounced on it. We have a crew that helps us st
rip properties, when we win a bid. And a bunch of part-timers who help man the shop.” They heard Laurel’s grandmother exclaim about something. “Maybe your grandmother would like a job?”
Laurel blew a laugh through her nose. “And if you offered, she’d probably take you up on it. This is such a cool place,” she said, stopping in front of shelves of bins holding all kinds of hardware, from drawer pulls to finials. She lifted her head and inhaled deeply. “I love the way it smells. Like history.”
“That’s dust,” he said, and she laughed. But it was nice, that she’d said that, because he felt the same way. “Simply because something’s a little banged up doesn’t mean it’s not worth anything. That it shouldn’t get a second chance. You know?”
“I do,” she said softly, then hissed in a breath as her hand went to her belly.
“You okay?”
“Just a foot. Or maybe an elbow. Hard to tell.” Her eyes cut to his. “Want to feel?”
“No! I mean...thanks, but—”
“It’s okay. Moms sometimes forget not everyone’s as into their baby as they are. If at all.”
It was probably the high ceilings making her voice sound so hollow—
“Ooh, I really like this light fixture,” she said, skimming her fingers over a twenties-era brass coach lamp. “It would look so neat by my front door, don’t you think? And no, I’m not fishing for you to give it to me, so don’t even go there. How much?”
“Fifty. But it’s no fun unless we haggle.”
“You’re on. Ten.”
“Sold,” he said, and she smacked his arm. Then she dragged out her wallet and dug a pair of twenties from it. Then, laughing, she stuffed the money into his shirt pocket, palming it so he couldn’t remove it. Okay, he could have, but he didn’t. In no small part because all these little electric jolts were zigzagging over his skin where her hand made contact. The hell?
Laurel blinked, her cheeks going all rosy before she jerked her hand away, returned her wallet to her purse.
Feeling a little warm himself, Tyler picked up the fixture. “You wanna take this back with you, or let me bring it?”
“Oh. Bring it, I guess. You know somebody who could install it for me?”
“Yeah. Me.” At her raised brows, he grinned. “You’d be surprised what I know how to do.”
And, yep, she blushed again. And Tyler didn’t even feel bad about that. She went back to digging in her bag—God alone knew for what—and he said—God alone knew why— “Would you like to come to my brother’s wedding with me?”
She stopped, midrummage, her gaze zinging to his. “As in, your...date?”
“No! Well, yeah, sorta. I guess,” he said, wondering when his mouth and his brain were gonna work out their differences and start communicating with each other. “Hell, I don’t know. As a friend, how’s that? It’s gonna be this little backyard thing, really small, nothing fancy—”
“You don’t have someone else you’d rather take?”
“No, actually.”
“Why?”
“Why don’t I have someone else—?”
“No. Well, that, too. But why do you want to take me?”
“I’m...kind of taking a break from dating, I guess. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that. And I asked you because...” The lamp was heavier than he’d realized. Tyler started toward the back counter, where the cash register was. “Because you said you don’t have much family, and I’ve got family coming outta my ears. So I figured I’d share.”
Behind him, Laurel sputtered a laugh. “You’re crazy.”
“This is not news,” he said, hefting the fixture up onto the counter, then facing her. “But I think you’d really like Kelly. My sister-in-law to-be. And my sister Sabrina. They’re about your age, come to think of it. And Kell’s got two kids, so she’s been...well. Where you are. Twice. And...and I think it wouldn’t hurt, you knowing more people than the ones inside your books.”
“What makes you think I don’t?”
“Do you?”
Their gazes tangled for a long moment before she sighed. “Not really, no.” The breeze from a big floor fan a few feet away snatched at her scent, bathing him in it as she hiked her purse strap up on her shoulder. “And your folks won’t think it strange, you showing up with this pregnant, thirtysomething woman they’ve never met to this really small, family wedding?”
Tyler went behind the counter to grab a manila tag and pen. “As if,” he said, scribbling her name on the tag, then threading the string around a bend in the fixture. “Growing up, I never knew from one night to the next who’d be at the dinner table. There were always extra kids, my brothers’ and sisters’ friends, sometimes fosters. So trust me, nobody’s gonna think anything one way or the other. Although I have to warn you—we’re really loud when we’re all together.”
Laurel laughed then said, “When did you say this was again?”
“Saturday, three weeks. So you’ll go with?”
“Hmm...I’ll have to change my lunch date with Gran—”
“Bring her, too. No, really—”
“Bring me to what?” her grandmother said, appearing from behind a display of wrought-iron gates. Abby followed, lugging a pair of andirons that probably weighed as much as she did.
“My brother’s wedding,” Tyler said, and a bright smile lit up the old lady’s face.
“Oooh, I haven’t been to a wedding in years!” This, with a look in her granddaughter’s direction. A look which Laurel apparently ignored. Until her grandmother poked her and said, “And maybe there’s a bouquet to catch, sweetie. What?” she said to Abby’s choking sound as she wrapped up the andirons. “I’m just saying...”
“Honestly, Gran,” Laurel said on a soft laugh, and Tyler grinned. A grin that died a quick death when he met that blue gaze and realized, in the brief moment before she turned away, her eyes were wet.
Chapter Five
It wasn’t every day the groom manned the grill at his own wedding, or the bride catered the rest of the luncheon. But, on her way back from yet another potty break, Laurel found the brand-new Mrs. Kelly Noble in her father-in-law’s spacious, granite-and-cherrywood kitchen, barefoot in her simple white silk sheath dress, her thick, red curls skewered with what looked like chopsticks as she arranged shrimp and veggie kabobs on a platter. On the other side of the island, her tiny, brunette, also shoeless maid-of-honor—Matt’s twin sister, Sabrina, Tyler had told her—hauled another tray out of the oven.
“These go in the chafing dish?”
“Yep,” Kelly said, shoving her tortoiseshell-framed glasses back in place. “Ready in fifteen!”
Sabrina whisked the tray through the dining room, then the open French doors letting in the scents of honeysuckle and roses, of barbecuing steaks and chicken; the carefree shrieks of kids being chased by barking dogs; the muffled chatter of a dozen adults, pierced by an occasional burst of laughter. As a child, Laurel had always dreamed of the big church wedding and the gleaming white dress, a glittering reception with dancing and music into the wee hours. But what could be better, or more real, than this simple, lovely, joyful celebration of family...and love?
And if it hadn’t been for the knot of stupid, pointless envy lodged in her throat—and her baby’s head lodged at the base of her spine—it would’ve been perfect.
Kelly flashed her a smile that immediately softened the knot. “Come on in, pull up a seat!”
“I should probably get back out there—”
“Really? Where it’s hot and noisy and crazy?”
There was that. Especially since out there was where Tyler was, watching her every move. Frowning. As though perhaps regretting his rash invitation three weeks ago, because now he was stuck with this pregnant woman and her octogenarian grandmother? The wall was done, the coach lamp in
stalled—he’d even put up a side gate for her. What further reason did they have to hang out?
None that she could see.
All she really wanted to do was go home, where she could curl up around her growing baby and fantasize about a pair of strong hands—say, ones that built walls and installed light fixtures and roughhoused with his dog— massaging the kinks out of her back. But since Tyler had driven them over in Gran’s car—and, since between the heat, her shoes and her aching back, she didn’t see herself trekking five miles back to her house—she was stuck.
So she smiled at Kelly and said, “Need help?”
Swiping a stray curl off her forehead, the redhead snorted a laugh. “What I need is to have my head examined, agreeing to my husband’s insanity. ‘So what’s the big deal?’” she said, lowering her voice to imitate Matt’s deep, Jersey accent. “‘It’s just a party, right? Except one where we get hitched.’”
“He really said that?”
“He really did. And at the time it made perfect sense. But I mean it, please, come on in.” She chuckled. “Keep me from feeling sorry for myself.”
An option that worked both ways. Because all those happy people...blech. Not that Kelly wasn’t the happiest of the lot—as in, disgustingly blissful—but at least there was only one of her.
“Love your dress, by the way,” Kelly said, with an approving nod.
“Thanks,” Laurel said, skimming a hand over the floaty, blue-and-purple watercolor print she’d probably never wear again. She heaved herself onto a bar stool, reveling in both the cool air blowing through the vents and her back muscles relaxing as she watched Kelly pull bags of salad veggies from the fridge. “I can’t cook worth squat, but I can slice, if you like.”
“You’re on.” She handed her a paring knife, cutting board and bags of red pepper, cucumbers, fresh tomatoes. “And no, I do not care how you cut ’em up. I’m easy.”
“You must be if you let your brother-in-law bring a perfect stranger to your wedding.” The baby moved, making her tummy muscles tighten for a second. “Two perfect strangers.”
More Than She Expected Page 7
