Build Me Up (11 page)

Ford let her explore him, allowed her to push him back onto the bed and kiss her way across the vast expanse of muscle and bone. When her hands started to wander below the point of his hip bones, though, he caught them. She looked at him with confusion and lust clouding her eyes, but he gently eased her onto her back. She turned towards him so they were facing each other.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, his hand rubbing her hip gently.

“What? I just wanted to get a look at those scars you were teasing me about,” Kristen quipped. “Purely research going on here.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm-hm. Isn’t there some part of me you’d like to get a closer look at? For research purposes, of course.”

“Well…” Ford said and slipped a thumb under her sweatshirt, finding bare skin, “there
is
the issue of your bra size… that bears further investigation.”

“I agree,” Kristen nodded. “Here, let me help you with that.” She sat up, grabbed onto the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. At least she’d had the good sense to wear her black silk and lace-trimmed bra today.

“If you don’t mind me stealing the words out of your mouth, Miss Barnes… Wow. Just wow.”

Kristen grinned and pulled him in for a kiss. “I approve of your initial assessment, Mr. Hamm.”

They kneeled facing each other on the bed, their thighs connected as they explored one another. Kristen ran her fingers over Ford’s scalp as he kissed her breasts through the silk, and dug her nails into his shoulders as he nipped at her straining peaks. When he snapped the bra open and tasted the exposed flesh, she’d had enough teasing and tipped them both down onto the bed.

The structure clearly wasn’t supported enough for that kind of impact and there was a distinct crack in the bed frame. That, and a sputtering hiss that Kristen couldn’t place until a feral animal flung itself at them.

“Ah!” she shrieked and flew off the bed as Ford warded off the furry creature as best as he could. Kristen ran over to the French doors and ripped them open. “Out!”

The cat seemed to weigh clawing Ford to death against finding fresh kills outside, and with a sound she’d never before heard a cat make, darted outside. Kristen locked the door behind the beast.

“What the hell was that?!” Ford roared, brushing hair and blood off his chest and face.

“I’m guessing Humphrey Bogart,” Kristen said and shuddered. Had the cat been hiding under her bed all this time – or had he snuck in when she opened the door for Ford. Either way, the romantic spell was broken and Kristen just felt naked and embarrassed.

Keeping her arms wrapped around herself for modesty, Kristen headed for the closet and found a sweater to pull on before turning back to Ford.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’ve been through worse,” he muttered and got off the bed, pulling his T-shirt and sweater back on.

“Did it scratch you?” Kristen went to examine his face, but he backed away.

“It’ll heal. I should get going.”

“Ford…”

“If that wasn’t the universe sending us the biggest, most vicious, sign ever that this was a bad idea from the start, I don’t know what it was.”

“Are you serious?” Kristen scowled.

“Listen… this… us… it can’t happen again. I’m not saying I don’t want to, or that it’s not going to drive me insane working with you until next summer and
not
doing this, but…”

“Save it, Ford,” Kristen cut him off, turning away sharply. She wasn’t going to cry, and on the off chance that she did, he sure as hell wasn’t going to see it. “Just go.”

“Kristen… I’m sorry. I never should have…”

“What part of ‘get out’ don’t you understand?” she spun around on him, the harshest glare she could muster cloaking her eyes. “Leave.”

“Okay.” He backed away, holding his hands up as though she was another feline about to pounce on him. “I’m sorry. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Kristen didn’t say anything, because there wasn’t anything
to
say. She simply waited for the front door to close before she went downstairs and locked it. Then she returned to her room, slammed the door and checked for cats before throwing herself into bed and crying her eyes out.

Kristen didn’t leave the house over the next couple of days. She had leftovers to spare and no appetite, so that equation worked out well. She didn’t see Humphrey Bogart anywhere, either, which she only felt relief about. Frank Sinatra and Charlie Chaplin were growing on her though. At least
they
had the good sense to keep their paws and claws to themselves – or at least away from people.

Kristen was starting to think she might make a good cat lady one day – with sane, housebroken cats, of course – when Mrs. Breezer returned and she realized that status was not something to strive for. After an attempt at polite conversation with the old woman, Kristen retreated to her room and stayed there until it was time to go to work.

She ended up spending the day in paint shops and hardware stores, placing orders for the interior design part of her job, which was expected to kick in around… oh, say, five months from now. Still, it never hurts to be prepared, and the shops had the added bonus of being in a Ford-free zone. Win-win.

When she returned to the
Breeze Inn
, however, her winning streak was definitely up.

“Miss Barnes, may I have a moment,” Mrs. Breezer said as Kristen walked through the door. It should have been a question, but it didn’t sound like one. Obediently, Kristen walked over to the little sitting room where Mrs. Breezer was seated, Humphrey Bogart in her lap. The one-eyed cat looked up as she entered and she could have sworn he hissed ‘slut’ at her. Or maybe that was Mrs. Breezer…

“Have a seat.” The words were polite, the delivery was not. She was so screwed.

“How are you today, Mrs. Breezer?” Kristen asked politely, pretending she wasn’t facing judgment.

“Today is Monday. I clean the house on Mondays. I thought I was very clear about my rules, Miss Barnes.”

“Which rules were those again?” Kristen feigned ignorance. What you don’t know can’t kill you. Or, as it were, get you evicted.

“There were three of them. Not too many, is it? Even blondes should be able to remember them.”

Kristen felt her jaw go slack. The old bitty didn’t just insult her based on her hair color, did she? She wasn’t even that blonde right now!

“No canoodling, Miss Barnes. Yet when I tidied up your room this morning, I found the bed frame had a crack in it. No wonder poor Humphrey Bogart has been hiding until now – you must have scarred him for life with your shenanigans.”

“Really, Mrs. Breezer, I…”

“I also found prophylactics in the bathroom cabinet, Miss Barnes,” she cut her off. “If you wish to entertain men, you may do so on alternate premises.”

“Mrs. Breezer. Aside from the gross invasion of privacy you just admitted to, I understand your concern for your… animals. Now, if the bed is indeed broken, I work with a number of contractors that I’m sure would be happy to…”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you do, Miss Barnes. I wouldn’t be surprised if a hussy like you didn’t take the chance to entertain
ten
handymen while I was away. But this nonsense stops now. I want you gone by morning.”

“Mrs. Breezer! We have a rental agreement-”

“I’m revoking it. You violated my rules, Miss Barnes. The agreement is null and void. I suggest you find alternate accommodations. It shouldn’t be too hard for a woman like yourself,” she finished with a disparaging once-over.

Kristen was furious, and she stomped up the stairs, threw her belongings into her suitcases and slammed the door on her way out. Like she wanted to stay in this hellhole a second longer!

Only, when she hit the road, Kristen realized she had nowhere to go. The reason she’d stayed at
Breeze Inn
this long was because there weren’t any other options available. She would have to find a hotel in a neighboring town, but first she needed a cab…

TEN

Ford was in a mood. He had been since he left Kristen alone with the crazy cats. He’d considered calling her over the weekend, but decided ‘leave me alone’ meant no contact whatsoever. When she didn’t show up at the building site Monday morning, however, he had started to worry about her.

It wasn’t strictly necessary for her to be around every single day, but she always showed up anyway. But not today. It wasn’t far off to think that she was upset about what had almost happened between them – or what
hadn’t
happened. He felt like a tool for treating her the way he had – initiating the kiss and then telling her nothing was going to happen between them.

He hadn’t meant to kiss her. It wasn’t his intention going over there in the first place. But then she’d gotten all cute and sexy and he couldn’t stop himself from trying out the limits to their chemistry. As it turned out, there were none. Unless you counted the physical obstacles of the feline persuasion, of course. Damn, those scratches hurt.

By the time the sun was setting and he still hadn’t heard from her, Ford decided to swallow the bitter pill and call her. The call went straight to voicemail. He tried again a few minutes later and got the same result. Then he tried Mrs. Breezer’s phone.

After being promptly informed by the old hag that Kristen no longer lived on her premises, he decided to drive over to the
Breeze Inn
and find out what had happened. Halfway there, he spotted a figure walking down the road, trailing two suitcases behind her. He flashed his lights and slowed down.

“Kristen! Get in the car!” he called through the window.

“I’m fine with walking, thank you,” she said, looking straight ahead with a stubborn set to her jaw, and he rolled his eyes. He rolled up the window and made a U-turn, driving past her and pulling over. Leaving the keys in the ignition, he jumped out and walked over to her.

“Hand ‘em over,” he said and reached for her suitcases.

“No. I told you, I’m fine.”

“I called Mrs. Breezer. She said you moved out.”

“Hah! More like she
kicked
me out,” Kristen scoffed.

“What? Why?”

“We broke the bed, apparently.”

“I could have fixed that.”

“Yeah, but see, I broke the cardinal rule – no canoodling, remember? So I’m out of a place to live. Any chance you can call me a cab? My battery’s dead.”

“Get in the truck. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“Yes, I do. You’re staying at my place until you find something else.”

“I most certainly am not!” Kristen objected vehemently.

“I have a spare room. You can block the door with those suitcases – they look like they weigh a ton.”

“I don’t need your charity.”

“Fine. You can pay me rent,” Ford shrugged and grabbed one of the suitcases, heaving it into the back of his truck. “And you need to be out before the holidays – my daughter’s coming home sometime around December 25
th
.”

“Okay. I’ll start looking for another place tomorrow,” she finally conceded and let him heave the other suitcase onto the truck’s bed as well.

When Ford got into the truck, Kristen was buckled up with her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t exactly happy to see him, which was to be expected. She didn’t say a word as he drove over to his house, and he didn’t attempt to initiate any type of conversation, either.

“Have a seat while I go get the room set up,” he said as they stepped inside his house. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” Kristen said, but hovered in the doorway.

Ford decided pushing her would only backfire and grabbed her suitcases, dragging them up the stairs. Annabelle’s room was across the hall from the master bedroom, which was now only occupied by him, and he shouldered the door open.

He put Kristen’s bags down right inside the door – those things
were
heavy – and surveyed the room. Posters from the mid-2000s, heavy on the pink, little knickknacks that were presents from friends and family, old books featuring horses or pop princesses. Nothing Annabelle needed or wanted in her life these days.

But as long as she didn’t rip the posters down or pack up the stuff littering the girly room, he wasn’t going to, either. For now, he just grabbed some fresh sheets and pillow cases for the cot – the old bed had been thrown out when Annabelle outgrew it and Suzy got her a new fancy bed in California. He’d offered to buy her a real one – or even build her one like he did with the first – but she’d shot him down.

When he’d made the bed as best as he could – he never had much skill for the domestic – Ford headed back downstairs. He found Kristen on the couch, a throw blanket wrapped around her.

“This is new,” she commented, indicating the blanket.

“I brought it out of storage. Winter is coming.”

“It’s already here.”

Ford chuckled. “Believe it or not, it gets worse.”

“You’re kidding?”

“You don’t like the snow and the cold much, do you?” he said, walking over to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

“I ski,” she objected, following him with the blanket still wrapped around her. “I can spend a whole day out in the snow when I’m dressed for it. And at the end of the day, I get to cuddle up in front of a fire with a cup of hot cocoa in my hands.”

“Well, I’m fresh out of cocoa, but I can probably do something about that fire…” Ford said and walked back into the living room. He grabbed a matchbook off the mantelpiece and arranged the firewood in the fireplace. When Kristen walked in with two cups of coffee, the fire was picking up.

“Nice,” she commented and set down the cups on the living room table.

“TV? Movie? Masterpiece theatre?” he said and sat down on the couch, picking up the remote.

“Is it just me or does this feel awfully familiar?” Kristen said and picked up her coffee cup, cradling it in her hands.

“This is the part where you offer me a foot rub, isn’t it?” Ford said, a crooked smile sneaking its way onto his face.

“Fat chance, buddy.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Ford chuckled and turned his attention to the TV screen. “So… sports?”

Kristen watched Ford surreptitiously throughout the night. He’d come through for her when he didn’t have to. Even though she’d been surly and ungrateful, he still made up a bed for her and started a fire to keep her warm. Why did he bother? Why help her out when he didn’t want anything to do with her?

“Ford?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you come looking for me tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“The last time I saw you, I told you to get out and leave me alone, and you made it pretty clear you didn’t want there to be anything between us, so I guess I’m just wondering… why’d you drive over to the
Breeze Inn
?”

“Kristen…”

“I just want to know.”

“I was worried about you.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t show up at the site, and then I tried calling and it went straight to voicemail. When I called Mrs. Breezer and heard you’d packed up and left, I thought you’d left for good, and I hoped to catch you before you disappeared out of my life forever.”

Kristen swallowed hard. “Why…” her voice broke and she had to start again. “Why would you care about that?”

“I care about you. I like having you around. Even when you’re being bossy and argumentative. Maybe even more so when you are.”

“Then why…?” Kristen turned towards him, trying to make sense of why he’d rejected her. If his next sentence was anything to go by, he could read her mind.

“You and I… it would never work out. You’re leaving in less than a year, and I… I’ll probably always be here.”

“So? Do you need a promise of forever to enjoy someone’s company?”

“Kristen…”

“Listen… I’m acting a little crazy here, I know. I blame the cats. They probably snuck catnip into my cereal this morning or something, because I’m not the kind of woman who begs for anything. And, for the record, I’m
so
not begging here, just laying out the facts.”

“Okay…” Ford said cautiously, watching her intently. She’d said too much to take it back now, and Kristen Barnes was no coward, so she straightened her shoulders and blurted it right out.

“You like me. I tolerate you. You have a pretty hot body and you’re a good kisser. I’m not looking for anything to last longer than my time here. You don’t want to complicate your life with a girlfriend who has to have your daughter’s approval. Am I right so far?”

Ford nodded.

“So let’s just forget that we’re working together on this project, forget that we have lives that don’t involve each other, and just seize the moment. You’re here, I’m here, and… I’d really like to kiss you again.”

Ford didn’t say anything for the longest time, and Kristen started to feel like she’d made a fool of herself yet again. She never had this problem back home.

“Okay, fine, if you don’t want to…” she said, putting her hands up and getting off the couch. She would take what was left of her pride and crawl into bed and hope that with morning would come sweet amnesia. She took her coffee cup into the kitchen, but before she could rinse it out, Ford came up behind her and stilled her movements.

“I reject your proposal,” he said simply and Kristen felt tears burning in the back of her head. Before she could come up with a cool retort, though, he’d turned her around. “But I have a counter offer.”

“What’s that?” she blinked, looking up at him.

“I’m a visual guy,” he said. “I think it’s better if I just show you.”

Kristen didn’t have the chance to respond before his lips were crashed against her own and his hands were cupping her buttocks, pressing her tightly against him. She let out a surprised gasp when he picked her up and set her down on the kitchen counter, fitting himself in between her legs.

“What are your terms, Mr. Hamm?” she managed to get out when they had to come up for air.

“No canoodling when my daughter’s in town,” he said, kissing her jaw line. “And if we break the bed, you’ll have to help me put it back together again.”

“Anything else?” she whimpered as his hands found her breasts and his thumbs swept across the tightened buds.

“No cats.”

“Well, Mr. Hamm. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Your wallpaper sucks,” Kristen commented as she lay spooned in Ford’s arms.

“Is that the official interior designer’s opinion?” he teased and bit her shoulder gently.

“Actually, an interior
designer
deals with the structure itself, the interior
decorator
deals with ugly ass wallpaper.”

“So you’re both?”

“I’m a woman of many talents,” Kristen said smugly and turned around to face him.

“Yes, you are,” he agreed with a matching grin.

“How could you have possibly thought you could walk away from all this?” Kristen teased, making a gesture that covered her entire body.

“I must have had a bad case of heat stroke,” he said solemnly.

“It’s winter.”

“From sticking my head in the furnace, then.”

“Hey, what did I miss yesterday, by the way? On the site, I mean.”

“A whole lot of moping going on.”

“Aww… Ray and Johnny missed me
that
much?” she mocked, referencing two of Ford’s employees.

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t really talk to anyone.”

“What? You didn’t even bark orders at them?”

“Well… maybe once or twice.”

“Thought so.”

“Are you coming out to the site today?”

“I have some follow-up meetings with the paint supplier and the hardware store owner.”

“You’re buying locally?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Why not? I’m supporting the local economy. Besides, I trust them to know what works best in trying to preserve most of the old charm.”

“You’re not tearing down the old cottage?”

“Unless we get approval from the board, I can’t.”

“But if you get the approval you need, you’ll bulldoze it down?”

“No, of course not. I’ll hire a wrecking ball crew.”

“That cottage is a part of this town’s history, Kristen. Tearing it down would be… wrong.”

“You never told me why you care so much about that place,” Kristen said pensively, ghosting her fingertips across his chest. “Does it have some special meaning to you?”

Ford sighed and rolled over so that he was on his back, staring up at the ceiling instead of meeting her eyes. Kristen propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. “Tell me,” she urged him on in a soft plea.