“You can’t tell me what to do anymore,” she protested.
“I think I just did,” he responded. “When it comes to our son, I do have some say. If you don’t believe it, try me.”
“This is because you hate that I have someone new in my life and you don’t,” she said.
Pete clung to his patience by a thread. “I don’t care who you date or what you do, unless and until it affects our son. Go home, Kelsey. You’re down to twelve minutes to get there.”
He slammed the phone down, waited the promised number of minutes with his eyes on the clock the whole time, then dialed the house. Kelsey picked up at once.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she said tightly. “You embarrassed me with a friend.”
“That’s nothing to what I’m likely to do if I find out you’ve ever left that boy in the house alone again. I don’t care if it’s day or night—he’s too young to be there by himself. I’ve warned you before, and I’m beginning to think it fell on deaf ears.”
“Okay, okay, I hear you, but I think you’re getting worked up over nothing. Davey’s a very responsible kid.”
“He’s six, dammit. What’s he going to do if there’s an emergency?”
“He knows how to call 911.”
“Fat lot of good that will do him if the house is on fire and he can’t get to a phone.”
“Dammit, Pete, you’re acting crazy,” she said in a tone that was all bluster. “Davey is perfectly fine. How’d you find out he was here alone anyway?”
“He called me,” he said. “And don’t even think about taking this out on him. He called because he was scared. He did exactly the right thing.”
“He’s sound asleep,” she protested, sounding a bit more uncertain. “How scared could he have been?”
“Scared enough to call me and spend an hour on the phone just to have a little company.”
She didn’t seem to have an answer to that.
“Okay, here’s the deal. I’m coming down on Saturday,” Pete informed her without leaving any room for argument. “I promised him we’d go out for the day.”
“But—”
“Don’t even think about trying to stop me, Kelsey.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Think of it this way. You can finish up your hot date, while I’ve got our son covered.”
He slammed the phone down, satisfied that Davey was safe enough at least for tonight.
Then he grabbed a beer from the fridge, but before he’d taken the first sip, he dumped it down the drain. Getting stinking drunk wasn’t the solution. It hadn’t worked when his marriage was crumbling. It wouldn’t work now.
The only thing that might marginally improve his mood would be seeing Jo, but he couldn’t go barging in over there again tonight. And this definitely wasn’t a problem he could dump on her shoulders. She didn’t de serve getting dragged into this quagmire. It would just be rubbing salt in an old wound.
It was only a few hours till morning, though. He could make it till then. He’d pick up some of those blueberry doughnuts she used to love and be on her door step right after dawn. Maybe then this ache in the region of his heart would go away. And those doughnuts might earn him enough goodwill that he could sneak in another of those mind-blowing kisses.
He grinned for the first time since he’d called Davey. Now that, he thought, was something to look forward to.
Jo was still half-asleep when she heard Pete outside. She squinted at the clock and saw that it was barely six-thirty. She fell back against the pillows with a moan. It wasn’t even daylight yet, but he was already hammering the heck out of something. She was surprised he could even see.
That didn’t seem to be stopping him, though. Since the racket showed no sign of lessening, she dragged herself up and into the bathroom. She took a quick shower, pulled on jeans and a heavy knit sweater, ran a comb through her damp hair and walked downstairs in search of her shoes and socks. The minute she switched on the downstairs lights, Pete knocked on the door, then stuck his head in.
“You awake?”
Jo laughed at the ridiculous question. “As if anyone could sleep with all that racket you were making. What on earth were you doing?”
“Starting on the porch.”
“In the dark?”
“I could see well enough.” He surveyed her, then grinned. “You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”
“I am when I have to be.”
He dangled a bag in front of her. “Will this help?”
She sniffed and immediately smelled the heavenly aroma of sugar and blueberries. “Oh, my God,” she said, snatching the bag away from him and burying her face inside. “I can’t believe the bakery is still making these.”
“Yes, and they’re fresh from the oven. I stopped by on my way over here and wheedled a few out of Helen. She remembered how you loved them.”
“You’re a saint.”
“Hardly, but am I at least forgiven for dragging you out of bed?”
“That depends.” She peered inside the bag again and counted. “A half dozen,” she said with a blissful sigh. “You’re definitely forgiven.” She grinned at him. “For waking me, anyway.”
“You gonna share?”
“Do I have to?”
Pete chuckled. “No, but it’s a darn good thing I bought a couple for myself.”
She took out the first one, slowly savored the aroma of sugar and blueberries, then bit into it. The sugar rush went straight to her brain. She’d never tasted anything quite like these and she’d been looking for years.
“Oh, my,” she murmured after the first bite. “These are heaven.”
“Does your sister the gourmet chef know that the only food you really crave in life is a blueberry dough nut?”
Jo nodded. “It pains her greatly. She even tried to learn to make them, but good as she is, hers never measured up. How did Helen remember that I love these? It’s been years since I’ve been in there.”
“Hey,” he protested. “Don’t I get some of the credit?”
She chuckled. “Yes. I thought I’d already praised you. How did you remember that this was my favorite breakfast in the whole world?”
“You’d be surprised at the things I remember,” he said in a way that made her heart skitter crazily.
It was way too early in the morning to go there. “Pete, don’t say things like that,” she pleaded, as if that would stop the sizzle in the air between them.
“Why not? It’s true. I remember everything about that summer.” He stepped closer and gazed into her eyes. “I remember the way you looked first thing in the morning, all dewy-eyed and fresh. You were no better at crawling out of bed early back then, either.” He touched a finger to her lips. “And I remember how your lips tasted of blueberries and sugar. I was addicted to that taste for years. Couldn’t get it out of my head, but just eating doughnuts wasn’t enough. I kept telling Helen she was leaving something out, till I realized that what I needed was you. You were the missing ingredient.”
He touched his mouth to hers and skimmed his tongue along the seam. Jo felt the earth shift beneath her feet.
“Pete,” she protested, but without much energy.
“What, Jo?”
“We can’t go back,” she whispered, even though she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away. “Too much has happened. And if we dredge it all up, it’ll make it impossible for me to work with you.”
“So we should pretend it never happened?” he asked incredulously.
She drew in a deep breath and said firmly, “I think that’s best.”
“I think it’s impossible.”
So did she, if she were being honest. She’d just planned to push down the old feelings in the vague hope that all the new ones would vanish, as well. Her reaction to this morning’s treat proved that old and new were bound to be all tangled together.
“How about a compromise? I won’t talk about the past if you won’t,” she said. “We don’t
have to pretend it didn’t happen. We just won’t talk it to death. We pretty well covered it last night anyway.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Then there’s nothing more you think we need to say?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said staunchly.
He looked as if he wanted to debate the point, but he finally nodded. “Okay, I can ignore it, if you can.” He turned away from her, hands shoved in his pockets. “I’m going to spend another hour working on the porch and then we can go over to the house I was telling you about. Will you be ready?”
She hated the sudden distance in his voice, as if they were little more than colleagues…or strangers. But she was the one who’d insisted it be this way, so how could she complain?
“I’ll be ready,” she told him. “I just need to hunt down my shoes and socks.”
He left the kitchen, taking the life from the room when he went. She sagged into a chair and absentmindedly picked up another doughnut. After one bite, though, she realized that she wasn’t really tasting it and put it aside. Why waste something so delicious?
She sipped her coffee, but it left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Acknowledging that her conversation with Pete had pretty much ruined a morning that had started out brightly, she scowled in the direction of the porch where he was hammering away again.
She didn’t want it to be like this. Last night, things had felt natural, comfortable. Today, the air was filled with tension, and it was all her fault. What had she been thinking with her stupid ground rules? She was smart enough to know that as soon as a topic or a person was declared off-limits, it became huge, far more important than it otherwise might have been. Now the past and their old feelings for each other loomed between them.
She noticed that Pete had left his cup of coffee on the table and made a decision. She freshened it up, then carried it outside and handed it to him silently.
He watched her warily. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“Being a first-class idiot.”
He grinned and the tension vanished. “You? Never. You were always the smartest girl I knew.”
“Maybe I grew into being dumb,” she said, not entirely in jest. “I know we can’t pretend that the past never happened. Last night we promised to concentrate on laughing again. Can we still do that?”
“Fine with me.” He studied her over the rim of the cup, waiting. Finally, he said, “So, know any good jokes?”
She grinned. “Not a one.”
“Me, either—at least none I can tell to a lady.”
She shrugged. “Just as well. I’m freezing. I’ll go back inside. I just wanted to, you know, settle things, make them okay again.”
He tucked a finger under her chin. “Things are fine.”
She felt the smile build from somewhere deep inside. “Good to know.”
“Skedaddle, woman. You’re distracting me.”
She gave him one last look before she went back inside. He winked at her, and her heart did a predictable somersault.
Inside, she asked herself why it was so important to her that she and Pete be friends again. It was only opening the door to more potential heartache. She knew it wasn’t because he’d offered her work. She could have managed for a bit without those two jobs he’d discussed with her. Nor was it because she didn’t like being on the outs with anyone.
No, this was very personal. It was about her relationship with Pete—the one they’d had and the one she had a terrifying hunch that she wanted again.
7
Pete was still feeling completely off-kilter when he stopped work on the porch and told Jo it was time to drive over to the job site. He’d come damn close to dragging her into his arms after that kiss earlier, but he’d known he wouldn’t be content with a few more kisses. Better to keep some distance between them. Jo needed to get used to the idea of being around him again, and rattling her was no way to accomplish that.
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 rosebushes 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 leapt 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?”
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