Scrape. Whoosh. He lifted the light snow easily, and she saw him stop to wave at a neighbor across the street. The forty-something neighbor shook her head. Mouthed back she was fine. Brad returned to the walk, sending another shovelful flying. Although Scarlett couldn’t see any arm muscles bulging under the bulky black parka he wore, he made the work appear effortless. The parka dropped over his hips, and she followed the line down a pair of faded blue jeans that tucked into heavy, mid-calf snow boots. The bad boy that sometimes haunted her dreams had turned domestic. Who would have thought? He attacked the walk with a concentrated gusto that hinted at a leashed power, one that if let loose … She trembled slightly. He’d never scared her, but he was dark and brooding in that Heathcliff sort of way, although even that description didn’t quite fit.
One brief, stupid kiss and he’d been a watchful presence, a forbidden fantasy pushed to the recesses of her mind.
Sensing her, he glanced up and caught her staring; she gave him a brief, guilty wave and then let the curtain drop into place. Colleen was now awake and sitting up in bed. “Get into the bathroom,” Scarlett said. “And I bet your tummy is rumbly.”
“I am hungry,” Colleen agreed. Ten minutes later, with their teeth brushed and both of them dressed, they made their way down to the kitchen. She had no idea how to work the brand-new Keurig single-serve machine, which was sitting on the counter, so instead she found the hot chocolate packets and a large measuring cup, which she filled with water and put in the microwave.
She retrieved a bowl from the third cabinet she opened. Finding the puffed rice cereal only took one try. Milk, well, that was easy. Spoons were found in the fourth drawer she pulled. Colleen had climbed up onto one of the eight bar stools surrounding the island and pretty soon Scarlett had her daughter eating cereal and sipping hot chocolate. Scarlett used the remains of the hot water to make her own cup of hot chocolate. She heard the stomps on the back porch before she saw the shadow in the doorway. The bell buzzed and she unlocked the door to allow Brad to step inside.
“Hey,” he said. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you, too,” she said, taking a step back as he moved forward. At six feet, he towered over her smaller, five-five frame. This was the first time she had seen him since the service and if possible he’d gotten even better looking. The sharp angles and brooding stare that once gave him a bad boy vibe now made the man standing before her stunning. No gray marred his temples, his hair still a wild mess as dark hair swooped toward his left eye, fell in a wave and curled around the bottom edge of his ear. Sexy, night-before stubble graced his jawline, made a circle around full lips that drew a woman’s attention immediately. Even her daughter stared at him, transfixed, as if a real life Disney prince had walked in their back door. Brad was Prince Eric, Prince Charming and Snow White’s prince all rolled into one.
He closed the door, shutting out the arctic blast and shoved GORE-TEX gloves into a parka pocket. His lips formed a tight kiss as he blew on his hands. “It’s chilly out there.”
“Mommy?” Colleen asked, green eyes still wide. “Who is this?”
Scarlett snapped to attention. Where were her manners? She waved Brad onward. “Come in, come in. Colleen, remember those pictures I showed you? This is Brad. Brad, Colleen.”
“He’s not in uniform.” Her nose wrinkled as she studied him.
“Nope, I’m off today,” Brad told her, leveling her with a high-wattage grin that had the power to thaw even the toughest of little girls and even smarter women.
Colleen melted immediately. “Is this your castle? I like it.”
“Castle? What?” He turned confused brown eyes Scarlett’s way. While he knew how to melt hearts of all ages, he clearly didn’t know how to talk to little girls. Still, that gaze knew how to hook a woman.
“Colleen believes we live in a castle now. She’s very into Disney princesses,” Scarlett clarified. “Our old house was as big as this whole floor.”
“It’s a very big house,” Colleen told Brad with an all-knowing nod. “So it must be a castle.”
“Sure it is,” Brad agreed, clever enough to play along. “All you need is a prince.”
“I’m still too young to marry a prince. Mommy says I need to be at least twenty and besides, they’ve all been taken. Mommy also said that no prince is going to find her because she was married to my daddy. Princesses are single until they find their one true love.”
“I did not know that,” Brad said, holding back a chuckle.
As Colleen went back to eating her cereal, Scarlett’s face reddened and she made a beeline for the center island, putting Brad squarely on the opposite side. Out of the mouths of babes …
She gestured to her cup. “Would you like some hot cocoa?”
“It’s good,” Colleen added to her mom’s offer. “But the marshmallows don’t last long. We usually use whipped cream, but Granny forgot to bring that.”
“You’re right. I can see that the marshmallows are gone. We’ll have to buy whipped cream. I’ll remember that next time.” He smiled at her, directed his question to Scarlett. “Did you by any chance make coffee?”
She shook her head. Pointed to the Keurig. “I have no idea how to use that thing.”
“Here. I’ll show you.” He slid out of his parka, tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair. Underneath he wore a fisherman’s knit sweater and tight jeans that did little to conceal. Were women crazy? Why hadn’t someone put a ring on his finger? Todd had always told her Brad had had no issue meeting women. He opened a cabinet, took out two of the K-cups. “Want one?”
She held up her mug. “I’m good.”
“Sure? It’s French roast.” He showed her the package top. Gave her a megawatt grin that melted her insides. Made her suddenly want to find out what all those other women he’d dated had experienced. Seriously, she had to get a grip. It had been a long time since she’d felt the full effects of a man’s smile. That was all.
“Already have cocoa.” She sipped quickly, pushing aside the silly glow his attention had created.
The smile didn’t diminish. “We can buy some of that. The machine makes it too.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the old-fashioned way and those cup things aren’t recyclable.” She winced. She sounded testy. No need for him to suspect the physical effect he was having on her. Had to simply be the stress from the move. Right?
He didn’t appear to notice or take offense. “Hmm. Never thought of that. Good point. We want to help Mother Nature. So, you going to make me old-fashioned coffee then?”
Something wicked and mischievous slipped into his eye, as if he were daring her. “I can.” But the words didn’t come out as strong and unaffected as she’d hoped.
“Might take you up on that coffee then.” The machine began to hiss. Colleen set her spoon next to her bowl. Wiped her lips with a paper towel. Surely napkins were somewhere, but Scarlett hadn’t yet found them.
“Mommy, may I be excused?”
“Yes, but…” She had no idea what to do. The books were still packed. While Colleen’s bed was assembled, most of her toys were still in boxes.
Brad sensed Scarlett’s concern. “I hooked the TV up yesterday. Cable’s already on. My mom also sent over some animated movies that Lisa’s outgrown.”
Lisa was Brad’s niece. She was ten, and his sister Cynthia’s child. Unlike Todd, who’d been an only child, Brad had three other siblings.
“Thank you,” Scarlett said gratefully. “We’re going to unpack her room first thing. Shall we see what’s on TV? Or if maybe there’s a princess movie in the bunch?”
“Okay.” Colleen scrambled down from the bar stool. “I liked the Lego movie too. Maybe that’s there.”
“Probably not, but we can look,” Scarlett said, following Colleen up the back stairs. “Feel free to help yourself to anything. After all, you bought it all,” she called over her shoulder.
Brad digested her parting words, wondering if there was hidden
meaning. Her bare feet climbed up the hardwood stairs he’d polished to a sheen himself and then she disappeared out of sight.
He ran a finger over the granite countertop, whose installation had needed the help of three of his firefighter buddies. Renovating this house had been an all-consuming project, something to fill every spare moment not on the job.
Perhaps working on the house had helped him deal with any PTSD, if he’d ever had any. Unlike Todd, he’d never been in the line of fire on a daily basis. He hadn’t killed anyone. Didn’t have blood on his hands, unless you counted Todd’s. Oh, he’d seen people die. There had been that while he’d been a SEAL. And as a firefighter, he still dealt with death, whether it had been from car accidents, drug overdoses, heart attacks or smoke inhalation. Where you had life, you had death. That was an inevitable fact. Still, perhaps this house had saved Brad, for it had given him purpose.
He’d let his house become his mistress, filling a void. Giving him purpose. A man had to have purpose. Once after two pitchers of beer, Todd had admitted he didn’t think he’d be able to adjust to civilian life—but somehow Brad had done that. Maybe it had helped going directly into another adrenaline-junkie job, one that involved hard danger and risking your life saving people. Last night he’d pulled the young boy out from the building. While the house had been a total loss, all inside had survived last night, including the family cat Brad had saved as well. He liked saving things. Better than the alternative.
Noticing a plantation blind was crooked in the breakfast nook, he went to adjust it. Moved some small packing boxes on the table so he could set down the slightly chipped, blue ceramic coffee mug. Then he saw the flag. It was folded thirteen times so only white stars and blue fabric showed, the same as when the honor guard had handed it to Scarlett following the memorial service. She’d put it in a black display box made for such items. On the table it rested by her car keys and purse, as if she’d carried the items inside last night and set them down, perhaps intending to return to rehome them later.
Fingers trembling, he set his cup down, careful not to spill any of the coffee that threatened to slosh out. He lifted the brass latch, opened the glass. Touched the fabric that had covered his best friend’s casket. Fought back the tears and anger that threatened. Todd shouldn’t have died. Why hadn’t Brad convinced Todd?
And hell, could Brad really have changed things had he reenlisted and accepted the promotion into Todd’s unit? He’d never know that answer, and Brad shoved guilty thoughts away as he heard Scarlett reach the bottom stairs, for despite applying extra nails to the subfloor before the wood, the last step still gave a small squeak. “You okay?”
He closed the glass lid. Fingers fumbled securing the latch. “Fine.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded clipped, far away. He masked his expression and turned her way.
She pointed at the flag. “I have no idea where I’m going to put that. But I guess there’s plenty of room.” Her forced laugh sounded hollow. False. “This place is huge. I haven’t even been on the third floor yet.”
“I’m sorry.” The words burst forth. Hung on the air like an oppressive summer day.
She planted hands on hips. Took a moment. Made light. “It’s not your fault you rehabbed a three-story historic house. It’s a beautiful place. A castle, according to Colleen.”
Her silent plea of “don’t go there” was written from the top of her brow to the tip of her chin. So he got a grip on his emotions. Went along with the change in the conversation. “Thanks. Only a few more construction things left to do. You sure you won’t mind if I’m in here finishing up? It’s mostly on that third floor you still haven’t seen.” To his ears, his chuckle sounded fake as his own joke attempt also fell flat.
Thankful he’d played along, she smiled, and it lit up her whole face. She’d always had the power to make him go weak at the knees. When he’d first met her, back in freshman English class, he’d noticed her smile. Sure, back then it had been covered with braces, but he’d liked how whenever she looked at him, that one simple action had tugged at something deep inside. Now years later, her smile still had that power to make his heart leap.
“It’s not a problem if you’re here,” Scarlett said. “After all, I’m your guest and while we need to address that down the road, we don’t need to do so today. Just give me a bit of advance warning so Colleen and I are dressed. I guess that’s the only ground rule. Like today, just knock.”
“I will.” He hesitated. “I won’t be disturbing anything. As in…” He paused. How did he ask this?
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He pointed to the flag. “Todd. His … his remains.” He had no idea what she’d done with them. “Are they here? I don’t want to knock them over.”
Pale green eyes widened, as she understood. “You mean his ashes.”
“Yes. I don’t want to accidently knock over the urn.” Brad wasn’t sure if he could handle even seeing what he never had. Once the service had been over, he’d left immediately for St. Louis. Had made his excuses that he didn’t have any more leave from his training with the St. Louis Fire Department. He’d known she was in good hands—her parents and Todd’s were there. And there was nothing Brad could do. Not then.
Scarlett’s lips quivered. She straightened. Found her fortitude. “No worries. I spread his ashes in the Pacific right before we left. Seemed fitting to finally let him go if we were coming here.”
She paused as her voice cracked. Touched the base of her throat. Coughed. Spoke again. “He loved the water, and you know as well as I did that he never wanted to come back here. That’s why I didn’t bury him in Jefferson Barracks. I know Larry and Louise were upset, for they thought he should be here. But I wanted him to rest in peace on the waves like he wanted.” She reached for her hot chocolate. Poured the tepid remains in the sink. Worked the fancy sprayer faucet that was the latest designer rage. “Does that sound silly? Was I wrong?”
“No. Not if he wanted that. His wishes should be respected.” Brad reached for his mug. To control his nerves he’d taken a long sip of French roast that he’d sweetened. The coffee had cooled slightly, but was still hot enough that it scalded the back of his throat. He coughed. “I wondered why you didn’t have a graveside service.”
“He never wanted one. Todd and I talked about it once. After he reenlisted. I remember laughing, trying to ease some of the heaviness of the moment. It was so serious, you know?” Her words caught. “I mean, we were planning what happens if he died. Who laughs about something like that?”
“A normal person,” Brad consoled. “You plan for it and then it doesn’t happen. If you don’t, it does.”
“Or it becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy. It was one of the most awkward conversations of my life. Maybe it was his way of letting me know that he’d never leave the SEALs. That he was in the Navy for life, however short or long that life would be. He said whatever happened that he never wanted a tombstone, even if the Navy was buying. Told me I was to move on, not come back to see him yearly and bring him flowers. Who says that?” Her voice cracked. Filled with anguish. “Why didn’t he respect what I wanted? All Colleen has are pictures and mementoes. How do you talk to someone without a grave?”
“He must have had his reasons,” Brad defended.
Scarlett gathered her composure. “I’m sure you’re right. I shouldn’t have dumped on you. Despite all of our phone conversations, we’ve only recently started opening up and here I am, partial to your hospitality. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. No apology necessary.”
She sighed. “Two years later you wouldn’t think I’d be so frustrated.”
Brad lifted his coffee mug to his lips, a deliberate evasion. How did he respond to that truth? He wanted to drag her into his arms, give her a huge hug. Tell her that there was a letter. That Todd had thought of her, had things he wanted her to know. But Brad kept silent. He had to follow Todd’s last wishes. The room became muted as conversation ceased.
The new windows he’d installed for the most part muffled the outside world. He’d added extra insulation between floors, which meant that neither Scarlett nor he could really hear the television Colleen was watching.
She walked over to the seamless sink, made of high-end white granite composite, a look he’d liked better than stainless steel. She emptied Colleen’s bowl. Ran the nearly silent disposal. Filled the void by saying, “Are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat? I’m pretty good at cooking scrambled eggs.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ve got more shoveling to do. I didn’t mean to intrude, just wanted to check in on you. Make sure you got settled okay.”
“Yes. We made it without problems. It’s a lovely house.” Her left hip rested against the beveled edge.
“Glad you like it. It’s been a labor of love.” He’d bought it soon after moving home. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s too big for me and the market hasn’t yet recovered. And you won’t mind me finishing, which is more than another tenant might say.”
“I don’t want to accept charity.” Hands went to her hips. She’d always had a small waist, one his hands itched to encircle.
“How is it charity? You’re doing me a favor. By you living here, you’ll find any issues that the house might have. You know, cold water after five minutes, or if the toilet flushes during a shower. That type of thing.”
She appeared skeptical. Reddish brown eyebrows wrinkled, as did her nose. “If you say so.”
He folded his arms. Dug in. “I do.”
She didn’t appear convinced. Shifted so her backside was against the edge of the sink. Waved a hand in a general indicator of the room. “You have to admit this is … strange.”
“What?”
Her chin jutted forward. “Me being here. Living in your house.”
He wasn’t going down this path, especially when she was right. “You’re making a bigger deal out of my generosity than it is. You’re actually doing me a favor. That’s all. So no worries. Let it go.”
Fan The Flames (Man Of The Month Book 3) Page 3
