“Really? That’s awesome.” Brody folded his arms on the handle of his cart and leaned on them. “So, you heard the news about Jett?”
“Jett?” Bryce hadn’t allowed himself to think the name for so long, it caught him off guard. “No. What’s up?”
“He’s back in jail.” Brody glanced around and lowered his voice. “Same thing, several counts. He won’t be coming out again any time soon.”
Bryce fought back a snarl. How many women had been hurt by that jerk . . . and why hadn’t he learned anything in jail the first time? At least he wasn’t getting out for a while, but he’d seen the look in Phoebe’s eyes when she talked about it. He hated the thought of other women walking around feeling that exact same way, not trusting anyone, wondering if they’d ever feel whole again. “When did he go back in?”
“About six months ago.”
Bryce nodded. “At least he’s out of circulation.”
“Yeah, exactly.” Brody’s phone chimed, and he checked his texts. “Oh, sorry. I’ve gotta go. Listen, give me a call, okay? I want to get together—and I’m not just saying that because it’s what we’re supposed to say.” He pulled an old receipt out of his pocket and scribbled on it. “Here’s my number. Call me.”
“Okay,” Bryce said, putting the note in his own pocket. It would be fun to hang out with Brody again, although it wouldn’t be the same. Of course, he shouldn’t expect it to be. They were adults now, not teenagers. And that was a good thing. He was more than eager to put his teenage self in the past and keep him there.
He lifted a hand in farewell, then continued to peruse the soup. Clam chowder . . . okay, that didn’t look too dangerous. He put one in his cart. He definitely wasn’t getting chili, not when he wanted homemade—anything else would be disappointing. He settled for some hearty chicken noodle and some beef barley, then moved on.
Once back at the hotel, he put his quart of milk, two yogurts, and string cheese in the fridge, glad to see that he’d eyeballed it correctly and everything fit. He hadn’t done so well with his frozen dinners and didn’t have room for one—well, that solved the mystery of what he should have for lunch. He pulled back the corner, put the box in the microwave, and organized his soups while the food cooked.
While he ate, he pulled up the website for Phoebe’s real estate agency and took another look at the house he was thinking about. At least, that was his intention, but his finger accidently clicked on the Weikers’ house instead.
He hadn’t looked at the online listing for it yet—he’d only spoken to Phoebe about it. Now as he looked through the pictures, the yearning in his heart grew. It was a kind of lonesomeness for something that wasn’t even his. The cutout window between the kitchen and dining room—he’d once heard his mother call that sort of thing a “pass through.” Built-in bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. The hand-carved railing on the staircase. The entrance to the mother-in-law apartment . . .
Wait. He sat up straighter. There was a mother-in-law apartment? Why didn’t he know that before?
He scrolled down to the section that listed all the features of the house. It had a legal separate entrance, a bedroom, a kitchenette, a sitting area . . . His mind began to spin. What if . . . just what if . . .
A look at the clock told him he still had two hours before he was supposed to meet up with Phoebe. He didn’t know if he could wait that long. To kill time, he hopped into the shower and directed the spray right in the center of his back, working to loosen up the knot that had been trying to form all day. He hoped Monday’s appointment would be successful and he might get some relief from this pain, but in the meantime, he had something to look forward to, a spark of hope, and that was exciting.
Now to see if Phoebe would go along with it.
***
Bryce started talking almost as soon as Phoebe opened the door. At first, she was amused that he hadn’t even said hello, but then she focused in on what he was saying.
“Have you ever had an idea that just hit you like a truck and then you couldn’t let it go?” He walked in at her invitation, but he didn’t sit down. “Well, that’s what happened to me today. I was all prepared to make an offer on that other house, but then I looked at the Weikers’s house online, and I saw that it has a basement apartment. And then I got curious, so I hopped onto Google Earth and checked out how the house is situated on the property, and I pulled up a sample set of blueprints for that make of house, and I realized that the house can be added onto there on the south side.”
Phoebe was getting confused. She sat down on the couch and watched him as he paced back and forth in his excitement over . . . whatever this was.
“The addition would be attached to the basement too, you see, with some digging on that side and drilling through the foundation. I hit another website that talked about costs, and they’re really not too prohibitive, especially since we’re talking years down the road. I’ve got all the websites bookmarked, if you want to take a look.” He paused and looked at her expectantly, obviously waiting for her response.
“I don’t know what we’re talking about,” she said slowly.
He took a deep breath, which was probably needed because he’d been talking so fast, he’d probably forgotten until then. “I’m sorry. I got way ahead of myself.” He sat down on the chair next to the couch. “I have a business proposition for you.”
“That involves drilling through foundations?”
“Yes, but not for a while.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Don’t answer me just yet—hear me out, all right? I want to buy the Weiker house. I have a large down payment, but I don’t have a steady income right now. That’ll start next month. In the meantime, you want to buy the house too, and you have a job, but you don’t have the down payment. What if we went into business together? We’ll co-sign on the house. We’ll use your job history, we’ll use my down payment, I’ll live in the basement apartment because it’s plenty enough for me, you get the upstairs, and Rocky gets his little pasture.”
Phoebe was so stunned, she just blinked at him for several seconds. “You want us to buy a house together?”
“Yes, as a business investment. Like a twin home, see? We each have our own sections that aren’t connected—plenty of privacy all around. We both get exactly what we want.”
“But . . . I thought you loved the upstairs of the house. I thought that’s what kept drawing you in.”
He shrugged. “It’s the way the house feels that draws me in, not what it looks like.”
“I’m just . . . dumbfounded.” What was he even saying? They’d start a corporation or something? She rubbed her forehead. “The basement won’t be big enough forever—don’t you want to get married someday?”
“Yes, and that’s what I’ve been talking about. We can add onto the house.”
“And drill through the foundation to connect it to the basement apartment.” Now she was starting to see. “I don’t know, Bryce. This all sounds so . . . complicated. So many hoops to jump through and paperwork and we’d have to work out a contract in case things get sticky . . . and you and I only started liking each other last night.”
“I’ve always liked you,” Bryce said, meeting her gaze squarely. “I’ve liked you from the moment we met.”
She felt her face growing warm again. “You know what I mean. We can’t have just one good date and then decide to tie our lives together by making this kind of investment. That’s a ton of money, and if you take care of the down payment, that makes me beholden until I’m about three thousand years old, and . . .”
He lifted a finger. “If I put down that money, it would make the payment much lower, wouldn’t it? Probably less than the apartment where you’re living now? We could work it out that I live there rent free because I handled the down payment, and you could handle the monthly bill. I’d take care of my part of the utilities and all that, of course. Will you at least consider it?”
She opened and closed her mouth a
few times. If this was a business deal and not some kind of romantic entanglement, she could probably handle that. But what if one or the other of them wanted out? That would all have to be written up in the contract, of course . . . a loophole, a way for one to buy the other out, a way for them to sell and split the proceeds, maybe . . . except that he would get most of the proceeds because of his down payment. She was getting a headache.
“I’ll consider it, but I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to start,” she said at last. “We need to talk to a lawyer and see what it would take to draw up a contract of this kind. We’d probably need to set up a business entity before we applied for the loan so we’re on there equally as a unit. I’d need to look into permits to add on to the house. And . . .”
She trailed off when Bryce reached out and took her hand. “We don’t need to decide tonight,” he said. “Let’s go have dinner, and we can talk about it a little bit at a time.”
She nodded. “You’re right. I’m just startled and mind-blown—that’s the second time you’ve done that to me this week. It’s kind of exhausting.”
He laughed. “I’m just keeping you on your toes.”
“And my toes are exhausted.” She gave his hand a squeeze and then let it go. She wasn’t ready for handholding stuff yet. If she ever would be. She didn’t know yet. She did know that his touch made her arm tingle up into her shoulder, but maybe that’s because her fingers were going to sleep. “I need to give you an update—Eileen’s considering the offer I took over this morning.”
“She is? Is it a good offer?”
“It’s a good offer except for one thing. They want to put apartments up on that lot.”
“Not in Rocky’s pasture. No way.” Bryce shook his head. “Is she taking it seriously?”
“I think she’ll turn it down, but she did ask for time to think about it.”
“Which gives you a little time to think about what I just said.” He glanced down at what she was wearing. “Do me a favor. Go put on some jeans and boots.”
“You don’t like my dress?”
“I love your dress. You look fantastic. I just think you’d be more comfortable if you changed.”
“Okay.” She stood up to go into the bedroom, but found that her knees were a little shaky. That’s what happened when she felt overwhelmed, and this whole “buy a house with me” thing had definitely overwhelmed her.
She closed her door, then slipped out of her dress and put on jeans and boots, as requested. Then she layered a white blouse over a red tank, pulled her hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck, and rejoined Bryce in the living room.
“You still look fantastic, and now I think we’re ready,” he said, motioning toward the door. “My truck awaits.”
Chapter Twelve
Bryce had never taken a girl home to meet his parents. He could imagine, though, that it was very much like what he was doing now—taking a girl to meet his horse. He pulled his truck up as close to the barn as he could, helped Phoebe down, and escorted her inside.
“Are we going riding?” she asked.
“We can, but not tonight—we’re here for another reason,” he said, leading her up to the correct stall. “Phoebe, meet Rocky. Rocky, this is Phoebe.”
She let out a little gasp, and her hands reached out and stroked his chestnut coat. “Oh, Bryce, he’s beautiful.”
“This horse gets nothing but the best feed and the best care there is,” Bryce replied. “He’s brushed until he shines every single day, and he’s even taking coconut oil now.”
Phoebe laughed. “We can’t let him miss out on the latest health trends, huh?”
“Of course not. That would be a shame.” Bryce loved watching her stroke Rocky’s neck. He could see that she genuinely appreciated the animal and that she wasn’t just putting on a show for his benefit.
Rocky turned and whiffled her shoulder, and Phoebe giggled. “Oh, that tickles,” she said, cringing a little. “What’s he doing?”
“I think he noticed that your hair smells like apples, and he wants one,” Bryce said, smiling.
“My hair smells like apples?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you know that?”
“It’s just my shampoo. I guess I never noticed.” She glanced around. “Do we have any apples to bring him?”
“Right here.” Bryce reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple. “Do you want to feed him?”
She took it, but held it for a second without moving. “You always walk around with produce hidden in your clothes?”
He laughed. “I keep some apples under the seat of my truck, and I grabbed one when I climbed out just now.”
“Okay, because I was going to say, I usually only carry gum around with me.” She grinned and turned back to the horse. “Is this what you were looking for, Rocky?” She held the fruit flat on her palm, and he gathered it up with his lips.
“You’ve fed horses before,” Bryce commented.
“I grew up in Montana. Of course I’ve fed horses before.” She stroked his muzzle. “None of them were as nice as he is, though. How can he be a rodeo horse and yet also be such a snuggle muffin?”
Bryce almost choked. “Did you just call him a snuggle muffin?”
“Well, isn’t he?” She patted Rocky’s neck, and he did seem to be enjoying it. “Aren’t you the nicest cuddliest snuggle muffin ever?”
Bryce held up both hands. “I just can’t . . . I can’t even. Rocky, how can you stand there and let her demean your masculinity like that?”
Rocky looked at him with patient brown eyes.
“He knows I’m not demeaning him. I’m appreciating the softer side of this courageous giant.” Phoebe gave him another pat. “Aren’t I, boy?”
Bryce shook his head. “All right, I suppose I can give you that. There’s something I don’t understand, though—the first time I suggested that you come out here to meet him, you acted like I’d suggested you eat bugs or something. But you like him—you like horses. What changed?”
“I was worried that meeting Rocky was too personal,” she said, studying the horse instead of him. “I didn’t want . . . I didn’t want to get involved.”
Bryce could tell that she was trying to keep her tone light, but there was a tremble in her voice, and it cut straight to his gut. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to step back or come closer, so he did what his heart was telling him to do. He walked up behind her and set one hand on her waist. “And now?” he said softly in her ear.
“And now I don’t know.” She turned around to face him, his hand still on her waist, and looked up into his eyes. She was definitely conflicted, but it looked beautiful on her. Every emotion, happy or sad, looked beautiful on her. “I honestly don’t know, Bryce.”
He lifted his other hand and let it trail gently down the side of her face. Slow . . . like training a skittish horse to take a lead rope, but so much more valuable, so much more important. Teaching a skittish woman to trust again. She closed her eyes, and he wanted to kiss her so badly, his lips almost ached. But he wouldn’t rush it, not for the world. Instead, they stood there, frozen in time, so close to an embrace and yet not.
Rocky whickered, and they jumped apart.
“Sorry,” Bryce said to the horse, chuckling. Phoebe’s face was bright red.
“You said something about dinner?” she asked.
“Yes, I did. How about barbecue ribs?”
“Sounds great.”
He reached out and took her hand as they walked back to the truck. He didn’t want to rush anything, but after holding her, he didn’t want to break that connection. He felt like he could hold her every minute of every day forever and never get tired of it. He brought himself up short at the thought—forever? Was he really thinking in terms of forever? It was too soon for that, wasn’t it? Weren’t they supposed to date for about a million years first?
He didn’t need a million years to know how he felt.
He just needed to know if she felt t
he same way. She was probably the one who needed a million years.
And if that’s what she needed, that’s what he’d give her.
***
Phoebe didn’t want to hold hands, and yet she clung to Bryce’s fingers like a lifeline as they walked out to his truck. What had just happened between them? It was like they were sharing the same breath, the same sliver of the atmosphere, and it was heady and exhilarating and so, so terrifying. But she wasn’t scared of Bryce—not at all. She was scared of what this could mean, that it was time to let down her barriers and let someone into her heart really and truly.
She climbed into the truck and watched him as he walked around to get in on his side. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. He was strong and handsome, a gentleman to the core, he cared about her feelings and her safety . . . She stopped her thoughts right there. She knew what this was—she was falling for him because he’d saved her. These weren’t real emotions—they were a carryover from the trauma years ago. She needed to push them aside—she didn’t have time in her life for fairytale romances and moments of breathing together so intense, they felt like the same person even though they were barely touching.
When he climbed into the truck, she almost told him to take her home instead, but she really was hungry, and she didn’t want to be rude. So she smiled and he smiled and they drove to Bobby’s Barbecue Pit and laughed and ate, all the while with her knowing that this couldn’t possibly last.
Which was better, really, because if she was going to go into business with him and buy the house, they shouldn’t be any more entangled than they already were. It was better that way.
“So,” she said over the loud music playing in the corner, “tomorrow’s Saturday. What are your plans for this weekend?”
“I’m going to take Rocky out, if you’d like to come along,” he replied. “I’m trying to keep myself distracted—a little worried about my appointment on Monday.”
“But aren’t you making improvements?” she asked. “What are you worried will happen?”
Phoebe's Fate (Burnt River Contemporary Western Romance Book 9) Page 6
