Of course, it was fairly difficult to get too much distance between them in the cab of a pickup. He could smell that familiar, old-fashioned scent she’d always worn, something light and flowery. It had always reminded him of her grandmother’s garden. For a long time he hadn’t been able to smell a rose without being transported to Rose Cottage. When Kelsey had wanted to put rose bushes all around their house, he’d vehemently protested. To Pete’s relief, she’d grudgingly substituted a hodgepodge of lilacs, hydrangeas and azaleas, which she’d then neglected.
He’d eventually come to hate that little house with its haphazard, struggling garden. No more than an aging beach cottage, it was cramped and filled with reminders of all the mistakes he’d ever made. He’d kept the roof solid and the exterior painted, but he’d been so busy building his business, he hadn’t had the time or money to invest in any of the extras that would have made it more livable. If the people whose homes he’d built in recent years had ever seen where he lived, he wasn’t sure they would be trusting him with their dream homes.
He was about to change that, though. One of the places he wanted Jo to landscape was going to be his. He hadn’t told her that. He wasn’t sure why, except that he hadn’t decided which house to keep just yet. He was half hoping that her reaction would help him decide. Maybe he even feared she’d back out of the job if she thought he was the client she was ultimately going to have to please. After all, he’d pretty much agreed to give her carte blanche to landscape the places for some anonymous buyers who’d hopefully come along in the spring.
They rode the few miles to the first house in silence. That was another thing he’d always loved about Jo. She’d never felt the need to fill every minute with chatter. It was yet another way in which Kelsey had fallen short by comparison. Kelsey couldn’t keep quiet for ten minutes if her life depended on it. It had driven him nuts. A million other traits had driven him just as crazy, but the one positive—his son—had made him struggle to ignore the rest.
When he turned onto the dirt road that led to the first Cape Cod-style house with its soft gray shingles and white trim, he slanted a look at Jo. She was sitting on the edge of the seat, her eyes filled with anticipation. When the house finally came into view, she gasped.
“Oh, Pete, it’s absolutely beautiful.” She turned to him with shining eyes. “Can I see the inside?”
He grinned. “You planning to landscape in there, too?”
“Very funny.” She gave him a pleading look. “Please?”
He laughed, taking pleasure in her delight. “Of course you can see the inside. It’s still a work in progress. A lot of the finishing touches won’t be done until March or so. The real estate market around here kicks into high gear in April, so I’m not rushing to complete it too much ahead of that.”
“That’s okay, I can use my imagination.”
The minute he pulled to a stop, she leaped eagerly from the truck without waiting for his assistance. She was halfway to the front door by the time he caught up with her.
“You’re awfully eager,” he teased. “Or are you just cold?”
“Eager,” she said without hesitation as she crossed the sweeping porch and waited for him. “Come on, slowpoke. Open up.”
Pete unlocked the front door, then stepped aside and waited, his heart admittedly in his throat.
“Oh, my,” Jo murmured as she stepped into the foyer with its shining hardwood floors and a skylight that sent sunlight cascading over everything, turning the oak to a golden hue. “It’s beautiful.”
She walked through the downstairs rooms almost reverently, expressing delight with the windows, the fireplace, the crown molding, the French doors in the dining room that led to a soft pink brick patio, the bright kitchen with its view of the Chesapeake Bay from the window that would eventually be over the sink as well as from the bay windows around the built-in breakfast nook that had been framed in, but not completed.
“It’s charming,” she said over and over. “Absolutely perfect.” She grinned at him. “You have incredible taste. What kind of cabinets will you have in here?”
“White with glass doors. I want to use the old-fashioned glass that has a few bubbles and ripples in it, so the place will look as though it has some age to it. What do you think?”
“I think that’s exactly right,” she said. “Every detail is just what I would have chosen.”
Pete had to bite back the desire to tell her that she was the one who’d inspired him. He couldn’t remind her that they’d built this same dream house on a dozen different occasions over that incredible summer. It hurt in some way he couldn’t name that she didn’t seem to share that memory, that she wasn’t recognizing the details he’d worked to get just right.
“How many bedrooms upstairs?” she asked.
“Five, including the master suite. Most of the work that’s left is up there and here in the kitchen.”
“I still want to go up. May I?”
“Of course.”
This time he let her go alone. He stood at the kitchen window and stared out at the view, remembering how careful he’d been to be sure it was at exactly the right angle to capture the sunlight on the bay in the morning. He heard Jo’s footsteps going from room to room, even heard the occasional exclamation and tried to guess what she was seeing. Her delight filled his heart with satisfaction and, maybe just a little, with regret.
This house could have been theirs. They could have finalized every detail together, but instead it had all been up to him. It wasn’t enough that he knew her so well that he’d pleased her anyway. The real joy would have come in the sharing, in the excursions to look at everything from faucets to ceiling fans and flooring.
Still, he couldn’t deny that it felt good knowing that he’d built something she liked. He could hardly wait to see how she reacted to the second house. It was ironic given how long they’d been apart, but he’d actually felt as if she were with him as he’d designed and built it.
“Hey, it’s cold in here,” he finally hollered. “Are you ever going to get down here and do the job I hired you for?”
She danced down the steps, her cheeks glowing. “That’s some tub you installed in the master suite,” she teased him.
“Big enough for two,” he confirmed.
“Lucky couple.”
He grinned. “Indeed. Ready to look around outside?”
“I’ll need to get my notepad from the truck so I can make a few sketches and jot down my ideas.”
Pete nodded. “I’ll meet you out by the oak tree in back. Wait till you see it in the spring and next fall. It’s spectacular.”
Some of the light in her eyes died. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said. “I’ll probably be back in Boston by then, but I’m glad you saved it. Too many builders just slash down everything in sight these days.”
“There was no way I’d cut this down. I kept imagining a swing hanging from its branches or a tree house built way up high. Besides, it adds to the feeling that this place is substantial. Even makes it feel as if it’s been around for a while.”
To his astonishment, she stood on tiptoe and planted an impulsive kiss on his cheek. “Nice to see you getting all sentimental about a tree.”
She was gone before he could react. He wandered around back and leaned against the massive trunk of the saved oak that had earned him an unexpected kiss. He nudged it with an elbow. “Thanks,” he murmured, then felt like an idiot.
Even with the sun shining brightly, the air off the water was frigid. Pete shivered as he waited for Jo to join him. When she didn’t appear after several minutes, he went looking for her. He found her by his truck, her pad resting on the hood as she made some sketches, her pencil flying over the page. He went up to peer over her shoulder.
There, in front of his eyes, was a climbing rose bush creeping up to the porch railing. A pond was taking shape off to one side, surrounded by some sort of flowering bushes. She blinked and looked up at him.
; “Where’d you come from?”
“Around back, where I was waiting for you.”
“Sorry,” she said, but with little real repentance. “Inspiration struck and I wanted to get it down on paper. I’m thinking a wildflower garden over here with a birdbath. It will draw butterflies and birds, so people sitting on the porch will be able to watch them. What do you think?”
“People actually sit around and watch birds?”
She laughed. “We used to.”
He thought back and recalled how they’d been endlessly entertained by the turf wars over her grandmother’s birdbath and the hummingbird feeder. “I’d forgotten,” he admitted. “Where’s the hummingbird feeder going?”
“With the plants I have in mind, you won’t need one. They’ll be drawn to the flowers.”
“You know, if you’re going to go into this much detail all around the yard, we’d better come back another day. I don’t want you to freeze to death out here. How about grabbing some lunch while we warm up a bit, then taking a quick look at the other place?”
She waved off the question, her attention back on the page. She was sketching something else, some sort of arbor.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Wisteria. This place cries out for a white picket fence and an arbor. It’ll give it a nice, old-fashioned touch.”
“If you say so. Now, how about lunch?” he prodded again.
“Since I think my fingers are turning into blocks of ice, lunch sounds good.”
Pete impulsively clasped her hands in his and rubbed them, then kissed the tips of her fingers. She gave him a startled look, but then a slow smile crept across her face.
“Is this one of those perks that comes with the job?” she asked.
“I’ll even put it in the contract, if you want me to.”
She nodded slowly. “Just be sure you make it an exclusive.”
Pete chuckled. “Believe me, you’re the only person who works for me whose hands aren’t scarred up and calloused. This treatment is definitely reserved for you.”
As if the whole exchange had suddenly made her nervous, she withdrew her hands and tucked them in her pockets. She headed around to the passenger door of the truck, then shot one last grin over her shoulder. “I’ll want that in writing.”
Pete laughed. “Done, darlin’.”
She was playing with fire, Jo warned herself as she sipped the hot seafood chowder she’d ordered for lunch. Something daring had crept over her back at the job site and she hadn’t been able to help herself, but she could not keep tossing out innuendoes and letting Pete steal kisses. Not only was it unprofessional, it was dangerous. For hours now her blood had been humming through her veins the way it had that long-ago summer. She’d felt every bit as giddy and impulsive as the schoolgirl she’d been back then, too.
And look what had happened, she reminded herself sternly.
She glanced across the table and realized Pete’s gaze was resting on her. “What?” she asked.
“You look as if you’re giving yourself a very stern lecture,” he teased.
“I am,” she admitted.
“About?”
“You.”
“Oh?”
“Just reminding myself that you’re a client.”
Something flickered in his eyes, something she couldn’t really interpret. Hurt, maybe.
“I thought we were more than that, Jo,” he said quietly. “I thought we were friends.”
“We were friends,” she agreed. “In fact, we were even more than that. You changed everything. I can’t let myself forget that.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Trust doesn’t come easily once it’s been destroyed. I guess I need to remember that, too.” He glanced at her bowl. “You finished? We should probably get going.”
Sorry that she’d spoiled the easygoing mood between them yet again, Jo merely nodded. It was just as well. They’d been getting too comfortable together…again.
Pete threw a couple of ones on the table, then paid the check. “Are you up for seeing the other house?”
“Of course,” she said, not even trying to hide her eagerness. If it was anything at all like the first one, she was going to love it.
A few minutes later, Pete turned off the main road and cut through a densely wooded lot. When they finally emerged into a clearing, Jo felt her heart begin to pound. She recognized this house as if she’d seen it a thousand times before. In a way she had, because she and Pete had talked about it so often.
She’d had a similar reaction to the first house, but not like this. This morning, certain touches had seemed vaguely familiar, like a distant memory stirring but not quite gelling. Her reaction to this house, though, was intense and instantaneous. There was no mistaking that this was their dream house.
Unlike the first one, this was all on one floor, sprawling over the waterfront land to take advantage of every view, every breeze. Even from where they sat, she could see through one set of French doors straight through the house to another set that faced the Chesapeake. She already knew there would be ceiling fans in every room, that the porch facing the water would have Victorian trim and railings meant to hold flower boxes spilling over with color.
Despite its obvious size, it somehow captured the feeling of a seaside cottage, something cozy and filled with light and the scent of salt air. She was willing to bet that the master suite would be at one end with rooms for kids and guests at the other, giving the owners privacy even when the house was overrun with family or company.
Despite all her earlier admonitions, she turned to Pete with her heart in her throat. “You built our house,” she said softly. “Just the way we talked about.”
Hands stuffed in his pockets, he nodded. “I tried.”
“But why? And how can you turn around and sell it?”
He looked vaguely embarrassed, which in itself was a shock.
Pete never looked anything other than confident.
“In a weird way, it started out as punishment, sort of a torment,” he admitted, “but in the end it made me feel close to you again. I brought in plumbers and electricians, but all the rest I did myself. I started it right after my divorce became final.”
“Then I’ll ask again—how can you sell it?”
“I’m not going to,” he said, as if he’d just reached a decision. “I’m going to live here.”
“But you told me before you intended to sell both of these houses.”
“I think I might have, if you hadn’t reacted the way you did just now. The minute I saw your face, I knew I couldn’t part with this one, after all.” His gaze lingered on hers. “Want to see the inside?”
“Yes,” she said at once, then, “No.”
He regarded her with amusement. “Which is it?”
“I’m not sure. I think I’m afraid to see the inside.”
“Afraid I’ve gotten it wrong?” he asked.
“No. I’m terrified you’ve gotten it exactly right,” she confessed.
“Would that be so awful?”
Yes, Jo thought to herself. Because Pete would live here without her.
Aloud, she forced herself to say, “No, I suppose not.”
He hopped out of the truck and went around to open her door. When he held out his hand, she took it, then reluctantly stepped down.
At the front door, she hesitated again. She lifted her gaze to meet his. “You know if I walk through this door and fall in love, there’s going to be a problem, don’t you?”
He looked perplexed. “What sort of problem?”
“You’re going to have to fight me to keep this place.”
Pete laughed, then sobered when he apparently realized she was at least halfway serious.
He shrugged. “There’s an easy solution to that, you know. You can just move in here with me.”
Even though his tone was light, Jo’s heart tumbled straight to her toes. The suggestion was too damn tempting. “You know that’s not possible,” sh
e said at once, a reminder meant as much for her as for him.
“Of course, it is,” he said just as readily, then winked at her. “But I’ve got another few weeks’ worth of work to do. You have time to decide.”
But when the door swung open and Jo stepped through, she knew it wouldn’t take nearly that long. She felt as if she’d just come home.
“He’s gotten every single detail exactly right,” Jo complained to her sisters when they stopped by later that evening.
“And that’s a bad thing?” Melanie asked cautiously, clearly not quite certain what to make of Jo’s mood.
“Yes, dammit. I am not supposed to fall in love with a house here, but I have to tell you, I want that house.”
Ashley and Maggie exchanged a grin. “Maybe he’ll sell it to you,” Ashley suggested. “Building and selling houses is what he does, after all.”
“And what will I use to buy it? I don’t have any savings, at least not enough to put a down payment on that house.”
“What was he going to ask for it?”
“I have no idea, but with real estate booming here and that incredible water view, it’s got to be at least half a million. Maybe more. That’s way out of my league,” Jo said with regret.
“But you do want it?” Ashley persisted. “It’s more than sentiment talking?”
“Absolutely,” she insisted, knowing it was impulsive and irrational and completely out of character, especially since until a couple of hours ago she’d had every intention of going back to Boston. “The minute I stepped inside, I knew that house was mine.”
“Unfortunately, Pete seems to be thinking of it as his,” Melanie reminded her.
Jo frowned. “Don’t you think I know that? He was grinning like a fool when he saw me drooling over the place. Now he knows he has leverage. He has something I want, and he knows I’ll do just about anything to get it.”
For the Love of Pete Page 9
