Currant Creek Valley (12 page)

He spoke the word softly and it hovered between them like a pesky deerfly.

“Yes. What else would you call this?”

He was silent for a long moment. “You’re definitely distracting. I can’t seem to get you out of my head, try as I might. I thought seeing you again would help in that department but I think we’ve only made things worse.”

He sighed. “As much as I’m tempted to give you all the casual, flirty fun you can handle,” he went on, his voice low, “I think you’re probably right. This isn’t a good idea.”

She was so busy trying to ignore the burst of heat from his words, it took a moment for the second part of what he said to seep through.

“It’s not? I mean, no, it’s not. What a relief that you agree with me.”

“The timing isn’t great for either one of us.”

“Horrible,” she agreed.

“Neither of us is looking for a relationship right now.”

“Absolutely right.”

“So no more midnight walks. Are we agreed on that?”

“Probably smart.”

They both looked at each other for a long moment and then Sam smiled, one edge of his mouth lifting just a little higher than the other. “It’s too bad, really. I like you right back, Alexandra.”

“No reason we can’t still be friendly with each other.”

“Except every time I’m with you, I’ll want to kiss you again.”

“You’ll get over it.”

He laughed and unexpectedly reached out and pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head with an affection that stealthily sneaked into her heart more effectively than a passionate embrace.

“I’ll do my best.” Too soon, he released her and she opened her car door and climbed inside.

“Good night, Sam.”

“Night. Thanks for the hike and the company.”

“You’re welcome.”

She closed the door quickly, firmly, and shoved the transmission into Reverse. She didn’t quite squeal her tires, but it was close as she backed out of the parking space then quickly headed toward her house in Currant Creek Valley before she could surrender to the fierce urge surging through her to turn off the engine, fly out of the SUV and jump back into his arms.

CHAPTER EIGHT

F
OUR
HOURS
AND
SIX
HOUSES
after starting out with the Realtor, Sam picked the house he wanted five minutes after walking through the front door.

“This is the one. It’s perfect.”

His perky real estate agent—the aptly named Jill Sellers—quickly concealed her dubious expression. “Are you sure? It needs
so
much work! I only showed you this one because you insisted.”

He should have trusted Brodie Thorne’s instincts. This was the very house Brodie had suggested he consider, a two-story early-century bungalow in serious need of some love and care.

The rooms were small and dark and the trim looked as if it had been painted over at least a dozen times. The last kitchen makeover was probably circa 1970, at least judging by the green appliances and lovely orange cabinetry, and the main bathroom would have to be completely gutted.

All in all, it was exactly what he wanted. The challenge of the work it needed was a huge part of the appeal.

“What do you think, Ethan?”

His son sat on the bottom step of the porch, chin in hand. Rodin’s
The Thinker
with missing front teeth and dark curls. “I believe it’s my favorite so far. I really like this house. It feels happy in here.”

He grinned. “There you have it. That’s good enough for me, kid.” He turned back to Jill. “Looks like we’re going with the happy house.”

She frowned as much as her Botox would allow. “You really should have a home inspection first. I doubt the electricity is up to code and the plumbing might have to be entirely replaced.”

“The structure is solid and the foundation decent. I had a good look when we came in. I figure I can fix just about anything in between.”

“What about all the other houses we looked at?” she said, a little desperately. “Some of those had real potential.”

“I agree, but they’re not for me. I’m sorry to waste your time and energy. We should have started here.” Which he had suggested, several times, but he figured he should probably refrain from pointing that out.

“We Delgado men know what we want when we see it, don’t we, kid?”

Ethan grinned. “Yep. Can I have the bedroom upstairs with that window seat and the huge closet?”

That was the one with the water damage that would need some serious drywall repair. In the win column, the two downstairs bedrooms were just fine and the upstairs bathroom only needed new paint.

“We might have a bit of work to do first,” he warned his son.

“But after that, can I?”

“Sure thing.”

“Are you sure about this?” The real estate agent looked aghast, probably because the asking price was much lower than any of the other houses they had seen, which meant her commission would take a corresponding hit.

He regretted that but he wasn’t about to buy a house he didn’t want just so she could have a bigger payday.

“Dead sure.”

“It’s barely livable!”

“It’s got a working bathroom and kitchen. What more do a couple guys need? Let’s go down 5 percent on the asking price, see if the seller will bite. With that price, especially for this area, I could raze it to the foundation and start over and still probably come out ahead.”

The neighborhood was perfect, as far as he was concerned, a mix of old and newer houses on lots separated by looming pine trees. A silvery creek threaded through some of the houses in the neighborhood—not his, thank heavens, with an inquisitive son to worry about—and the mountains soared as a backdrop.

He could picture watching sunsets over those mountains from the porch on summer evenings, raking leaves with Ethan on crisp autumn afternoons with the smell of wood smoke in the air, the whole neighborhood lit up with twinkly lights at Christmastime.

Apparently Jill could see his mind was set. She shifted from pointing out the pitfalls to some of the positives.

“Well, it
is
quite historic, built during the mining boom in the latter part of the nineteenth century. It’s one of the original houses in this neighborhood. Really, most of the other houses grew up around it. The yard is nicely landscaped, with all those beautiful mature trees and even some cherry and apple trees in the back. It’s been neglected the last few years because of the owner’s health issues but should only need a little elbow grease to bring it back.”

He didn’t mind hard work, though he knew little about gardening. He would just have Ethan read some books on the subject. The kid could be a walking encyclopedia when you gave him a research topic.

“The seller is actually the grandson of the original owner,” the real estate agent went on. “He was pastor here in Hope’s Crossing for many years. He and his wife raised all their children here. Hank had a heart attack a few years ago and hasn’t been able to keep up the house as he’d like. From what I understand, they’re moving to Arizona to be closer to grandchildren.”

He had sensed the house had known families, children, love.

“Let’s not keep them waiting then. Make the offer, see if they bite.”

Her carefully coiffed hair didn’t move when she shook her head, he noticed. “I hope you’re not rushing into things, but let me go make a call.”

She walked into the kitchen, leaving him and Ethan alone. After she left, he felt a moment’s misgivings. Buying a house was a huge decision. Buying a house in a completely new community felt monumental.

No, he wouldn’t second-guess. Moving to Hope’s Crossing was the right decision, for him and for his son.

“What did you think about that creek we saw on the way in? What are the chances we can hook some trout in it?”

Ethan appeared to give the matter serious thought. “There are too many variables for me to be able to answer that. We don’t even know if there
are
trout in it, for one thing.”

He laughed. “It was a figure of speech, son. That’s all. What do you say we go take a look at it, see if we can find any.”

“Sure.”

They headed into the April sunshine and Ethan slipped a hand in his, his fingers small and vulnerable.

“Does it snow a lot here?” Ethan asked as they headed across the street to an area where the creek ran close to the road before curving through the trees.

“More than in Denver, that’s for sure. You think you’ll be okay with that? You’re going to have to learn to ski or snowboard. I think it’s the law.”

Ethan frowned. “I don’t think that’s possible. It wouldn’t be constitutional, would it?”

He laughed and rubbed Mr. Literal’s head. “Maybe not the law. Maybe it’s just a strongly worded suggestion. Don’t worry, I think you’ll like it.”

Before Ethan could answer, a very familiar dog came bounding across a nearby yard toward them with single-minded intent. Ethan gasped and edged behind him. For all his talk about wanting a pet, he wasn’t a fan of big, strange dogs.

“You don’t have to worry about this dog. He’s friendly.”

“How do you know?”

“We’ve met before.”

“Is he a stray?”

“The answer to that particular question is a little complicated. Leo, what are you doing up here?” he asked. “Did you run away again? Don’t you know you had a good thing going?”

The dog looked at him for a moment out of those beautiful hazel eyes then barked happily and turned back around the way he had come, heading up the street in the slanting afternoon sunlight.

Sam muttered an oath but cut it off when he caught Ethan watching him carefully. He wasn’t at all in the mood to chase down a dog, but he also knew he couldn’t let Leonidas wander aimlessly.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To catch that rascal of a dog,” he answered.

“Really?” Ethan’s eyes were huge. “Are we going to keep it?”

When they were a little more settled, maybe they could consider getting a dog, but that seemed months away.

“Right now the dog belongs to someone else. Come on, let’s see if we can grab him before he gets too far.”

They hurried down the street, Ethan’s hand still in his, past a couple houses that showed clear signs of children living there, with bikes parked beside the garage, and a trampoline in one backyard. Finally the dog paused at a particularly charming small log home, almost hidden from the street by trees.

“Oh, I like this house, too,” Ethan declared. “Maybe we could buy this one instead.”

“Looks like somebody already lives here. See, no for-sale sign.”

The dog slipped around the side of the house as if he belonged there and cut through a gap in the fence. Sam felt a little weird about going into someone’s backyard but he was afraid if he took time to knock on the door to ask permission, the dog would escape through some other gap and Alexandra would never be able to find him.

“Where have you been?” He heard a low, exasperated voice as he turned the corner of the house and suddenly there she was.

Alexandra was on her knees next to a flower garden that bordered a wide flagstone overlooking the river and the mountains. She had one hand firmly around the dog’s collar, the other still holding a gardening spade.

She wore pink flowered gardening gloves and a floppy straw hat and he was seized by a powerful urge to toss it off and throw it into the garden before he pulled her against him and kissed her once more.

Fortunately, he managed to tamp it down.

She hadn’t spied either of them yet as she continued to talk to the dog. “I don’t want to use a chain on you or lock you in the garage when I’m outside but I will if you run off again. How are we ever going to find your owners if you wander off like that when I’m busy? And how on earth did you open the gate?”

The dog grinned at her as if to say,
Look who I found,
and Sam moved closer. “You’ve got a gap in your fence that looks just big enough for a troublesome dog to sneak through. Though I suppose he could also escape across the creek.”

She had whirled at his first words, her eyes stunned. Dismayed, even. “Sam! What are you... How did you find out where I lived?”

“Is it a secret?”

“No, I just...I don’t remember telling you.”

“You didn’t. Leo did.”

At the temporary name, the dog barked happily and plopped on his belly. Still looking stunned, Alex rose and joined him. She didn’t appear to notice Ethan, who had become distracted by a bird feeder next to the house where a couple of colorful little finches darted in and out.

“Seriously, what are you doing here?”

“House hunting. I just made an offer on that bungalow a few doors down and across the street.”

If he thought she looked stunned to see him before, it was nothing to the complete shock in her eyes now. “You...what?”

“If all goes well, it looks like we’re going to be neighbors.”

“Neighbors? Here? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” He hadn’t expected that particular reaction. She was looking at him as if he had just announced he was opening a strip club next door to the elementary school.

“You...you have a business in Denver. You’re only here for a few weeks, to finish Brazen.”

“
Had
a business. I’m moving my whole operation. I’m keeping my crew so I can still do some jobs in the city, but as of now the address on my letterhead will say Hope’s Crossing.”

She continued to gape at him and he couldn’t help wondering why this news seemed almost catastrophic to her.

“We were ready for a change, weren’t we?”

For the first time, she seemed to register Ethan’s presence. He saw her gaze move rapidly from the boy to him and then back to the boy again, lingering on Ethan’s blue eyes and curls and the wide mouth he knew they shared.

“We.”

He hadn’t meant to tell her like this. A completely unaccustomed—and unearned—guilt made him squirm. He had every right to protect his son, he reminded himself. “This is my son. Ethan, this is my friend Alex McKnight.”

“Alex is typically a boy’s name. I have a friend named Alex at school and he’s a boy.”

“Yes, but sometimes it’s short for Alexandra,” Sam answered.

“Oh. Okay. I’m very pleased to meet you, Alexandra. I think I like your dog.”

She hadn’t stopped looking at his son since becoming aware of him.

“Thanks.” Her voice sounded thready and she had to clear it before she spoke again. “I like him, too, except when he wanders off. But he’s not really my dog. I’m just watching him until we can find his owner.”

She smiled at the boy and Sam suddenly remembered she had several nieces and nephews. Of course she would be comfortable with children.

“Would you mind if I played with him? I would very much like to throw a stick and see if he’ll bring it back.”

“He’ll be in heaven. He’s a retriever. That’s kind of what they do. We’ve been playing fetch all afternoon. You should be able to find some tennis balls over by the back door.”

“Even better! A spherical object will be easier to throw.”

“That was my theory, too.”

His son and the woman he was fiercely attracted to smiled at each other in perfect accord and Ethan headed off, the dog at his heels, to find a tennis ball.

Alexandra turned back to him and her smile dropped away like that spherical object falling out of the sky. “A son. You
are
a man of mystery.”

He shrugged. “I like to keep a woman guessing.”

“I can see maybe keeping your favorite color a secret but this seems like pretty important information to withhold. You didn’t say a word.”

“I’m a little cautious about mentioning Ethan to people when I first meet them,” he admitted. “It probably comes from being in the military but I tend to be overprotective about sharing my personal life, especially about my family.”

“An understatement.”

He felt guilty, for reasons he couldn’t have explained. He hadn’t done anything wrong but the way she was looking between him and Ethan made him feel otherwise.

“I guess I should have mentioned him but I didn’t quite know how. I’ll admit I’m a little rusty about this. I haven’t dated since my wife died, in part because Ethan tends to get...attached very easily.”