Build Me Up (12 page)

“My great-grandfather was a lighthouse keeper. He raised his family in that cottage. He never owned the land or the house, but it felt like he belonged there. Like he was as much a part of that lighthouse and the lighthouse was a part of this town. When he died, he passed the torch to my grandfather. My own father would have carried on the legacy if the lighthouse hadn’t been decommissioned before he was old enough. Without a lighthouse keeper, the cottage was vacated. When I was a kid, my grandfather would walk with me up to the lighthouse, telling me stories about ships and storms that had reached our shores. The cottage was locked up, but we would peer through the windows and he’d show me where he’d sat by the fireplace and listened to his father tell stories. I promised that one day I’d buy the cottage from the municipality, and my parents and grandparents would move back in. Needless to say, things didn’t turn out quite the way I’d expected.”

“When did you give up on your dream?” Kristen said quietly, watching his profile as he fixated on some invisible spot on the ceiling.

“I think it was when my grandfather passed away. Around that time, I met Suzy. My ex-wife.”

“What was she like?”

“She was popular, I guess. She studied at MassArt. Filmmaking, if you can believe it. She did all these obscure documentaries about myths surrounding old buildings in Massachusetts.”

“She didn’t direct the
Blair Witch Project
, did she?” Kristen frowned, wondering if he was making this story up.

“The what?” Ford said, turning his head towards her.

“Never mind. Go on.”

“There’s not much else to tell, really. She got pregnant. We got married. We both dropped out of college. Now she’s in California with a so-called film director for a husband, and I’m remodeling the old lighthouse.”

“But you’re a licensed contractor these days…”

“I went back and got my degree after Suzy left.”

“How long has it been?”

“Six years now.”

“Wow.”

“Wow, what?”

“Just… wow. You’ve been single since 2007?”

“I’ve… dated.”

“Uh-huh…”

“What? You thought I was rusty or something?” he grinned at her, propping himself up on his elbow.

“A little oil never hurt anyone,” Kristen shrugged.

“Hm. What about you? How long has it been since you were in a serious relationship?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one. I’ve never had a serious relationship.”

“How come?”

“Well, what’s the point? You invest all this time and energy into a person, only to end up with a crappy divorce settlement and a broken heart. No thank you.”

“You’re not destined to end up like your parents, you know.”

“Well, in L.A., I’d say the chances are pretty good.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“My life is there – my family, my friends, my apartment.”

“You could have all those things wherever you choose.”

“Maybe. But California is my home. I belong there.”

“Just as I belong in Greenport.”

“Mm-hm.” Kristen dropped her gaze to study the parts of him that couldn’t look back at her. “That’s why this little arrangement is so great – no false expectations of either of us giving up our respective lives and living happily ever after on the other person’s conditions.”

“Right.” Ford didn’t sound altogether persuaded, so Kristen set out to do just that. After all, she knew she could be very persuasive when she put her mind to it.

“Can I give you a ride?” Ford offered as he zipped up his jacket.

“I think you already did,” Kristen said cheekily and zipped up her own jacket.

“Cute.”

“I know. And it gets cuter,” she grinned and pulled on a bright pink woolen hat. It had a little tassel attached, which she flicked. “See?”

“Impressive.”

“Thanks.”

“So… ride?”

“I’m gonna walk. Too little exercise and all…”

“I’m not touching that,” Ford rolled his eyes and opened the door. “See you later.”

“Oh, wait!” Kristen said, catching the door before it closed. “I don’t have a key.”

“Right. Uh… hang on,” he patted his pockets and came up empty. He walked back into the house and checked a wall cabinet.

Kristen leaned against the doorway and watched as he looked for another set of keys for his house. They’d spent the night together, in his bed, but she hadn’t lost track of reality. She was a boarder, someone who would pay rent and have her own key until she found another place to stay. They weren’t moving in together. She’d have to remember to go to sleep in her rented bed each night and not be tempted to stay in the master bedroom. That would be the fast track to getting one’s priorities messed up.

“Here,” he said, wiping the key on his jeans before presenting it to her. “Sorry about the grease. I think I let my buddy use it when he was going to work on his bike in my garage.”

“Thanks,” Kristen said and tucked the key into the front pocket of her jeans. “See you around.”

“Hey,” Ford said, catching her by the arm.

“What?”

“Thanks for last night… and this morning,” he grinned and tugged her close, his hands finding the back pockets of her jeans.

“Right back atcha,” Kristen smiled. “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you smile this much in the months we’ve known each other. Should I be worried? Are you going through some kind of mid-life crisis?” she teased.

He answered her with a hard kiss, to which she yielded without protest. Just as she grabbed onto his jacket and tried pulling him closer, he pulled away. “I’m late. My crew is expecting me to bark orders. I’d hate to disappoint.”

“Go, bark!” Kristen exclaimed dramatically, punctuating her order with a laugh.

He pulled his collar up and headed over to his truck. Kristen got the sudden feeling that if he were a cowboy, he’d be tipping his hat to her before hoisting himself onto his trusty steed. Instead, he climbed into his truck without even so much as a second glance at her. Surly Ford was back in business.

Ford smiled to himself as he drove off, then wiped his face clean of any sign of amusement. Kristen was right – it wasn’t like him to be smiling all the time. Definitely a warning sign. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep with her in his arms, or for them to talk intimately and share stories of their lives. How often did he talk about his ex-wife? Never, that’s how often.

At least they’d put a time limit on their living arrangement. Annabelle was coming home and Kristen would have to move to another place. Once she found another place to stay that wasn’t covered in cat hairs, she wouldn’t be moving back in and they wouldn’t have the chance to get into some kind of homey routine.

Kissing her goodbye had been a definite
faux pas
– he knew that even without speaking a word of French. Way too familiar. He couldn’t let it happen again.

Kristen caught herself humming as she walked over to the hardware store and stopped dead in her tracks. What was she doing? She had absolutely no reason to be in a cheerful mood. She needed to find a new place to stay and she had about three weeks to do it in. If push came to shove, she could always check into a hotel, but she’d rather find a more permanent – or semi-permanent – place to stay until her work in Greenport was done. It definitely wouldn’t be Ford’s house. Way too risky.

After giving herself a stern talking-to, Kristen carried on. By the time she reached Harvey’s Hardware, she’d almost managed to push all thoughts of Ford out of her head. Then she almost walked into a display of hard hats and she was a goner.

“Miss Barnes, welcome back,” Harvey himself greeted her. “The new catalogues came with today’s mail. Did you want to take a look?”

“Thank you, yes,” Kristen smiled and went into work mode.

She finished up way too early to go straight home. Home. Funny how Ford’s place had become ‘home’ overnight. Well, home is where the suitcases sleep, after all. Kristen decided that was the best explanation and moved on to ponder her options.

She could walk out to the building site, but then she’d be hanging around the trailer and thinking about how sturdy that table in there was… no, she definitely needed to clear her head some before going out there.

As if her body was offering up one good idea after another, it finally landed on something physically possible. Eating. She could definitely go for some food.

Some minutes later, Kristen walked into the Sea Shack. It took less than a minute for Hallie to spot her and rush her over to her old table.

“Great to see you again, Kristen,” Hallie beamed at her. “How’ve you been? I thought you’d left town, I didn’t see you in so long.”

“Nope, still hanging around… Actually, you might be able to help me…”

“Sure, name it.”

“I’m looking for a place to stay. Preferably somewhere I can stay until August of next year.”

“Old lady Breezer driving you insane, huh? Is that why you haven’t been around much? Has she been force-feeding you chopped liver?”

Kristen repressed a shudder. “Something like that.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame you. Let me think…” Hallie muttered names to herself, discarding each option for whatever reason. Then, suddenly, Hallie’s gaze snagged on something behind Kristen and she broke into a smile. “Ford!”

Oh, crap.

“Hey, Hallie,” his gravelly voice sounded behind her. He must have been barking a lot of orders today to make it that hoarse, Kristen thought to herself.

“Kristen.”

“Hey, Ford,” Kristen looked up at him, careful to keep her voice neutral and her smile polite.

“We were just trying to think of places for Kristen to stay,” Hallie said. “You have a spare room, don’t you, Ford?”

“Uh… well… yeah, but…”

“See? That’s perfect. Kristen, you can stay with Ford. Don’t worry, he’s a great guy,” she added in a stage whisper. “Go on, have a seat. You two, get to know each other better and work something out. Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

“So… you wanna move in?” Ford said casually, picking up a menu to peruse.

“That’s a generous offer, Mr. Hamm. I can’t stay too long, though.”

“We’ll figure something out. Annabelle’s only staying for two weeks. You could move back in after that.”

“I need something more permanent, though. A place where there’s no confusion about the sleeping arrangements.”

“You’re right. Last night was a mistake,” he said quietly, checking to make sure there were no eavesdroppers in sight – or within earshot.

Kristen tried not to feel hurt, but the words still stabbed at her. “Right.”

“No, I don’t mean the…” he looked around again. “
That
part was great. But you’re right. We probably need to set up some sort of ground rules. Like… practical stuff.”

“I’m paying rent. That’s a given.”

“Okay. We can share meals, but no candles within ten feet of them.”

“Oh, please. Candles are a fire hazard. Definitely not allowed. Okay, what else? Oh, right. My feet are going to hate me for this, but… no foot rubs.”

“Whoever grabs the remote first chooses the channel. If the other person doesn’t like whatever’s on, they can leave the room or cover their eyes and ears.”

“I’m sleeping in my own room.”

“I won’t go in there. You’ll have to come to me.”

“Agreed. No sharing the bathroom unless we’re doing it in the shower. I don’t want to hear you take a dump while I brush my teeth.”

“Ditto.”

“Occasionally shared rides are okay, but I don’t want the crew to start talking. No lovey-dovey stuff on the site. Or anywhere else in town, for that matter. We’re landlord and tenant, not a couple.”

“Deal.” Ford extended his hand and Kristen shook it with more force that may have been strictly necessary. “Now that that’s settled… let’s order,” Ford said and waved Hallie over.

ELEVEN

“You need a new rug,” Kristen scrunched up her nose, surveying the living room floor.

“What’s wrong with this one?” Ford frowned, patting the flat woven sisal rug.

“You mean aside from the fact that I now have rug burns all over my back?” Kristen huffed. “Look at it. It’s brown. Not designer-brown, either. It’s just ugly brown. Where did it come from? I swear I didn’t see this yesterday.”

“I had it in the garage. Now that winter is setting in, it’s good for warming the floors.”

“You could have such a great living room if you put a little effort into it,” Kristen sighed. “There has to be a home decorating store
somewhere
around here.”

“I doubt it.”

“Hang on,” Kristen said and got off the floor, wrapping the throw blanket around her before heading up the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Ford called after her. “Kristen?”

“Aha!” Kristen proclaimed proudly as she returned, holding the blanket in place with one hand and wielding her laptop in the other. “I know just what to do.”

Ford expected her to join him on the floor, but she plopped down on the couch instead and powered up her computer. With a sigh, he got up and walked over to her.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m going to fix your living room.”

“Kristen…”

“There must be an IKEA nearby, and if not, they deliver. I know just the rugs to get.”

“Kristen, stop.”

“Why?” she turned toward him.

“I don’t need an interior decorator, designer, whatever. It’s a man cave. I’m allowed to be un-stylish.”

“Do you want to stay single forever?”

“Sorry?”

“Listen. I’m a woman, right?”

“I believe so.”

“Don’t make me hit you, Ford Hamm,” she warned before continuing. “As a woman, I’m telling you that a man’s home is important. It tells you who he is, and if he’s worth the effort. Unless you want to stay single forever, you need to make a statement with your interior decorating.”

“And what does my brown rug tell you?” Ford asked, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“That you have zero sense of style – which can be fixed, and that works in your favor – and that you’re more interested in the practical than in the pleasurable.
That
is not a statement you want to make.”

Ford shook his head and took the laptop from her, putting it down on the coffee table. “What about my couch? What does that say?”

“Your couch is okay. It could do with a wash. Actually, I think I’ve seen this great cover-” she reached for the computer again but Ford intercepted and snapped the lid closed.

“Later.”

“You’ll let me order some things for the living room?” Kristen eyed him, keeping him at arm’s length while she waited for his answer.

“Go nuts. I’ll even let you find me a new couch if you help me break this one.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Hamm,” Kristen chided him playfully before seeking out his lips. “But you’re on.”

One month later, Ford’s living room and kitchen had been properly styled and furnished. He’d worried that letting Kristen go to town with the decorating would mean he’d end up living in a Barbie dream house, but he had to admit that she knew what she was doing. Bankhead should count himself lucky to have hired her.

Bankhead. He’d spoken with the man only once over the past month, but he’d heard Kristen speak with him at least ten times. Every time Bankhead called, Ford could see her tense up, and it took her almost an hour to loosen up again. Now she was on the phone with him again, and Ford could tell she was close to hanging up. She was drawing deeper and deeper circles on a notepad and he thought she might stab the kitchen table with her pen any second now.

“Yes, Mr. Bankhead. You’ll have the photos first thing in the morning. No, I didn’t… The pictures won’t be clear enough if we… yes, of course I could use the portable light, but… yes, Mr. Bankhead. All right. I will. Yes, you’ll have them within the hour.”

“What’s going on?” Ford asked and put his hands on her shoulders, massaging her gently with the pads of his thumbs. Foot rubs may have been banned, but other types of massage were very much allowed.

“Bankhead wants me to go out to the site and photograph the new staircase in the lighthouse. In detail.”

“But it’s nighttime.”

“Yeah. Apparently that doesn’t matter. We have those big industrial flashlights, you know.”

“You’re not seriously thinking of going out there?” Ford frowned and walked around to sit at the table so that he could look her in the eyes. “Kristen, it’s freezing. It started snowing like five minutes ago.”

“Can I borrow your truck?”

“You’ve never seen Greenport in December. Right now it’s snowing. In another fifteen minutes or so, it could start raining. The roads are going to be dangerous – especially out there where the ocean is spraying icy cold water onto the rocks.”

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Kristen snapped.

“You can tell him no. Tell him to shove it.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Kristen said and pushed back her chair, standing up. “I’m afraid I don’t have that luxury.”

“Of course you do,” Ford said, exasperated. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Screw Bankhead. You’re great at what you do. Losing one stinking client isn’t going to change that.”

“I need to go.”

“Kris, come on…” Ford said and reached for her.

“I hate that name,” she said and stepped out of his reach. “If I can’t borrow your truck, I guess I’ll pull on some sneakers and go for a run.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Hey. Newsflash. Us sleeping together doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do. Got it?”

“Got it,” Ford said and put his hands up. “I’m driving.”

“Like I said…”

“I know these roads better than you do. That’s not me being patronizing, that’s stating facts. If you want to make it there and back in under an hour, you need to go by car, and I’m not letting you risk my truck.”

“Fine.”

Kristen tugged her jacket just a little bit tighter around her as she stepped into the lighthouse. It was snowing, and the winds were strong out here by the water, but it was the chill in the lighthouse that really did her in. How were they going to make it warm enough for all-year occupation?

Quinlan Bankhead hadn’t been too clear on what exactly he wanted the lighthouse living space for, but that would have to be sorted out as soon as the new staircase had been approved and they’d figured out how to construct the heating. She could only guess that he wanted it as a studio or office, somewhere to bring clients and impress them with how big his lighthouse was. Or something to that effect...

“Here. Let’s get this over with,” Ford’s voice bounced off the walls – she’d also have to work on noise reduction – and flipped on the light switch to his portable flashlight. The light was harsh and unforgiving, and Kristen felt like it was an accurate representation of their moods this evening.

“Not exactly photo shoot lighting,” Kristen muttered to herself as she took out her digital camera to document the structure. Her hands trembled slightly when she pulled off her gloves, and she pinched her lips closed over her clattering teeth. She just had to get a couple of shots in and they could get out of here.

“This is insanity,” Ford commented as Kristen moved around, taking pictures at every angle. “Why can’t the jackass just come out here and see for himself?”

“He’s busy. Important meetings and such. That’s why you hire professionals, you know – to get a job done when you can’t do it yourself or even be there to oversee it.”

“It’s still his house, isn’t it? If he doesn’t have time to inspect it on his own time, why even buy it?”

“You’re just angry that he bought it in the first place.”

“No, I’m angry that the town didn’t stop to think what selling one of our few monuments to a money-grubbing social climber would do to this place – to this town.”

“What part bugs you the most about him – that he’s got money or that he’s got social standing?”

“Oh, no, we are
not
getting into this. You’re going to transfer everything I say about the douche onto yourself, and that is a gross misrepresentation of the facts.”

“Gross misrepresentation?” Kristen parroted, climbing the staircase a couple of steps to get a fresh angle. “Have you been watching
Suits
?”

“I’m done here,” Ford said and shut off the light, throwing the inside of the lighthouse into complete darkness. The sky above was too darkened to lend a helping hand, so with the shock of sudden darkness, Kristen lost her balance and tripped.

“Ow!” she cried out when she fell and hit the steps hard.

“Kristen?” Ford turned the lamp back on and she was bathed in light. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“You turned out the light without warning and I tripped, you jerk,” Kristen glared at him as she dusted herself off and gingerly rubbed her buttocks. “My ass is going to be bruised tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“I know,” Kristen muttered, rubbing away. “But I’m in a mood and I need to yell at someone. You’re both stubborn and strong, so you’re it.”

“I’m your scratching post, is that it?”

“Are you comparing me to a cat?” Kristen frowned, but she was more amused than annoyed.

“I’m just saying… you may have spent one too many months at Casa Breezer,” he shrugged and opened the door. “Come on, you’ve got enough pictures for one night, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Kristen sighed and put away her camera. He held the door open as she passed, and she made a point of rubbing her buttocks and limping all the way back to the truck.

“I could probably help out with your little problem,” Ford said as they were driving back.

“What problem?”

“Your… um… posterior ache. A gentle massage might help with that.”

“You want to rub my butt for me?” Kristen said, her laugh bordering on incredulous. “That has got to be the worst come-on I’ve heard yet. And believe me, I’ve heard some pretty bad ones.”

“I meant it in the best possible way.”

“I’m sure you did, Buster.”

“Listen… about tonight… I want to apologize. I overreacted. I have no business telling you how to do your job, and I’m sorry. My only excuse is that I’ve heard you talking to him on the phone, and it always makes you tense and agitated. I guess I got a little overprotective…” Ford cringed.

“Oh. I’m sorry, too. I’ve just been stressed out lately with work and… our living situation. But we’re still on the same page, right? I mean, we’re not in a relationship or anything…”

“So I should probably dial back on the protectiveness? Yeah, I figured. If it helps, it surprised me too.”

“I’m not sure that helps…”

“Right. Well. New and improved ground rules – no meddling in each other’s business.”

“Deal. Also, I think… I think we need to cut back on the cuddling and the massages, too. I appreciate a good massage and all, but when you do that for me all the time, it’s a bit… it’s just too intimate, you know? And not in a sweaty kind of way.”

“So no massages unless there’s sweat involved?”

“Uh… let’s just say no massaging of any kind. Unless it’s during… well, you know.” As she said it, her gaze involuntarily dropped to Ford’s lap, and when it stayed there a bit too long, he protested with a groan coming from somewhere deep inside.

“Kristen… please keep your eyes on the road.”

“But I’m not driving,” Kristen frowned, looking up at him.

“These roads are just a little too slippery to handle with you looking at me like that,” he said, his jaw tense and his muscles taut.

“Tell me about it,” Kristen muttered, feeling slightly out of breath and a lot warmer than she had earlier just from catching his eye in the mirror. “Just… drive safe, okay? And make it fast.”

“Will do, Miss Barnes.”

By the time they got back to the house – and Ford hadn’t spared the accelerator pedal – they were both about ready to combust. Or erupt. Either way, Kristen was the first one out of the car and she yanked the door open, not registering that Ford would have locked it when they left until she heard unfamiliar music blaring from speakers she couldn’t see.

“Ford?” she frowned, turning around as he approached. “You locked the door, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… wait here,” he said and pulled Kristen behind him.

She watched as he took a couple of tentative steps into the house and the living room where the music was playing at full blast. Angry girl rocker music. Not a traditional choice for a home invader, but this was Greenport, after all. Did such a thing as home invasion even exist here?