The Sweetheart Bargain (A Sweetheart Sisters Novel) (28 page)

“I’d love to know more about what you do,” Diana said. “Maybe someday you could come in and talk to me and my staff, and let us get to know Miss Sadie. See her in action.”

Olivia met her sister’s gaze and nodded. “I’d like that. A lot.”

Diana ran a hand over the edge of the counter and let out a long breath. “I’m sorry that I’ve been so . . . standoffish and cold. This whole thing is really difficult for me. It’s a lot to absorb all at once.”

“I feel the same way.” Olivia folded the dish towel, then folded it again. “I’ve never had a sister, so I don’t even know where to go, how to build this . . . relationship.”

“Me neither.” Diana bit her lip. “Please understand that I’m still grieving the loss of my mother, and you being here is a reminder of how much she kept from me and how little I knew her. I’m not blaming you, Olivia, but I’m saying I need time. A lot of it.” Diana gathered her purse off the counter and fished out her keys. “I better get Jackson home. Thanks for the invite.”

After Diana was gone, Olivia wiped down the counters, then pulled the drain plug. She watched the soapy water drain and wondered for the hundredth time why she had thought this process would be so easy.
Just pack up and go, and it’ll all work out.
Yeah, so much for
that
plan.

“Looks like I came in at the right time because all the hard work is done,” Mike said as he entered the kitchen. “Hey, where’s Diana?”

“She had to get Jackson home. Speaking of hard work, do you mind taking out the trash for me?”

“Is that all? What, no shelves to hang or floors to sand?” He tugged the white plastic bag out of the trash can and tied the top. “Give me a real challenge.”

“If you want a challenge, I’ve got one next door,” Olivia said. “One that would make Bob Vila drool. It’s not just the shelter that’s about ready to fall down, it’s the house too.”

“Let me take this out, then we can head over there and I’ll give you my two cents.”

“I’d appreciate that. I’m pretty much flying blind over there. All I’ve got is a
Renovations for Dummies
book and a big balance on my Home Depot card.” Olivia laughed. “I’m definitely in way over my head.”

“Most folks are when they take on a project house. Give me a minute and I’ll head over there with you.”

“Sure. I was going to talk to Luke before I left.” She thumbed toward the back of the house. “Unless you don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Mike’s face softened. “I know Luke can come off as a total jerk sometimes, but trust me, there’s one hell of a guy under that gruff exterior.” He hefted the trash, then headed out the back door.

Olivia dried her hands on a towel, folded it and hung it on the hook, then paused by the hall mirror to fix her hair, even as she told herself she didn’t care what she looked like, that she wasn’t interested in Luke. Except she was, in complicated ways that scared the hell out of her. She’d wanted him for just a one-night stand, a quick, hot tryst with the hot neighbor, but the more she got to know him, the more she cared—

And that created the tangled web she’d intended to avoid. Hadn’t she learned her lesson with her divorce? Closed-off men offered nothing but hurt in the end, and she’d had enough of that for a lifetime. For two lifetimes.

Yet she was drawn to him all the same, to the man who appeared in flashes, like peeking behind the wizard’s curtain and finding the real man hidden behind all the flash and roar. The problem? Luke had made it clear he had no intentions of letting that protective curtain fall.

She found Luke in the living room. The shades were drawn, the TV on low, the image flickering in the shadowed space. Luke sat on the sofa, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled over his face.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He straightened up, but his shoulders remained hunched.

She sat on the edge of the coffee table and faced him. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” His sharp retort sliced the air like a razor.

She bit her lip. “Okay. Well, I’m going to go home. The food’s put away and the kitchen is cleaned up. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything before I left.” She got to her feet. Luke reached out a hand and caught hers.

“Thank you.”

She shrugged. “It was nothing. Just a few dishes and—”

“I didn’t mean for cleaning up the kitchen. I meant for . . .” He shook his head and let out a breath. “Listen, I know I’ve been a jerk lately. I’m trying to act like a human, and it’s like I forgot how to do that.”

“I think we all do, once in a while.” She told herself not to care, not to get wrapped up in this man, but she could see the pain etched in every inch of him. She’d seen it enough in patients who had lost their ability to do the simplest of tasks, who were angry that fate had stolen their freedom.

The two dogs had followed her into the room. Chance had lain by Luke’s feet, while Miss Sadie stayed close to Olivia. Chance raised his head and pressed his cheek against Luke’s calf. Luke reached down and rubbed the dog’s ears. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

She thought of all those angry patients whose mood lifted when Miss Sadie walked into the room. Who found something as simple as giving a dog a biscuit a rewarding experience. The dog loved them, just because, and they returned the emotion. Even in the few weeks she had been working at Golden Years, she had seen so many patients make remarkable progress, simply because they wanted to connect with the dog. Miss Sadie’s presence, her willing and eager face, and her friendly acceptance of all, regardless of their abilities or age, encouraged people to walk a few steps farther, to toss the ball a few more times, just to receive a furry hug or damp kiss in return. The dog worked miracles.

Maybe another dog, one who had a little experience with hurt and pain, could do the same for Luke.

“You know, I don’t have time to take care of Chance properly,” she said, keeping her tone casual. “Maybe I should bring him to Diana’s practice. See if someone wants to adopt him.”

Luke didn’t say anything for a long moment. He scratched the dog’s ear and Chance returned the favor by slapping the couch with his tail and pressing harder against Luke’s leg. “I could watch him for a few days. Give you some time to find him a home or something.”

“That would be great,” Olivia said. “I can send some food and bowls back with Mike tonight.”

On the television, some inane commercial with dancing French fries filled the screen. Tinny music blurted from the speakers. Luke hit mute, then turned to Olivia. “Send it back with Mike?”

“Yeah, he’s coming over to my house for a little bit. Give me an opinion on the remodel. He really knows his stuff.”

Luke scoffed. “He also knows a pretty woman when he sees one.”

She cocked her head and studied him, but his expression betrayed nothing. Maybe Luke should have been a professional poker player. “Are you jealous? Because I assure you, there is nothing going on between Mike and me. And even if there were, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”

“Why wouldn’t it be any of my business?”

“Because you have made it abundantly clear that there is nothing between you and me.” And that, she realized, stung. She, the one who’d said she wanted a one-night stand, was, at her heart, exactly what he accused her of being—a picket-fence kind of gal. The only problem—building a picket fence and settling in the ’burbs had been her biggest failure. Her marriage had been over almost before it began.

“You don’t want to get involved with me,” Luke said, and his gaze shifted to somewhere far off, somewhere she couldn’t see. “So do yourself a favor. And don’t.”

Seventeen

Mike walked every square inch of Olivia’s property. Peeked in the attic, looked at the foundation, peeled back a loose section of wall. He borrowed some weird gadget with red and black wires from Luke, then tested the electrical panel. With a flashlight, he ducked under the sinks to inspect the plumbing. All the while, Olivia held her breath.

After an hour, Mike dusted off his shorts and handed back her flashlight. “Well, I have good news and bad news.”

Surely the news couldn’t be that bad, Olivia reasoned. She had hope that the house could be something wonderful. After all, she’d left behind everything and everyone she knew for this move. She’d taken a huge chance, changed her whole life, to take on this house. She drew in a deep breath. “Okay. What’s the bad news?”

“The place is a total gut job. You might as well chalk it up to a lost cause. Sell it for the land and move.”

She stared at him for a long while, digesting his words. Lost cause? Gut job? Nausea pitched and rolled in her stomach. “And what’s the good news?”

He gave her a weak, sympathetic grin. “You did one hell of a good demo job.”

The last little bit of hope Olivia had been holding on to fluttered to the floor. “Are you sure?”

Mike sighed. “Listen, the last thing I want to give you is false hope. Or put a bow on a mule. This place is in rough shape. A lot of years went by without doing basic maintenance, and that means things are in pretty bad condition. It’s going to take a hell of a lot of work, not to mention a sizable investment, to get this place where you want it to be. The shelter, on the other hand, is in a better state. It’s got some storm damage, but that can be fixed. I can shore up the weak areas, fix a few things for you, if you want. That’ll buy you some time until you decide what you’re doing with this . . .”

“Monstrosity.”

“I was going to say
project
, but you put it much more eloquently.” He grinned, then sobered. “Listen, why don’t I call around, get you some quotes from some contractors. This is too big a job for one person. Heck, for two people.”

“My budget is only big enough for one person.” She dropped onto an overturned bucket and put her head in her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“My advice? Take your time. The work will be there tomorrow. If there’s one thing you learn in construction, it’s to take your time and measure twice. That goes for everything.”

She sighed, then got to her feet. “Well, thanks anyway. I appreciate the advice.”

“Anytime. I’m sorry, Olivia. I wish I could tell you it was all cosmetic, but it’s not. You need new electrical, new plumbing, a new roof . . .” He threw up his hands.

“It’s okay.” Olivia retrieved Chance’s bowls and the container of food she’d bought for him, then coiled a leash on top of the plastic tub of dog chow. “Can you bring this back to Luke? He’s going to keep Chance for a while for me.”

“Was that Luke’s idea?”

“I let him think it was mine.”

Mike raised a hand, and she high-fived him. “Good for you, getting him to rejoin the land of the living without even realizing he’s doing it.”

“It was an easy sell, really. He and the dog seem to have a bond and I thought”—she shrugged, and try as she might to keep the caring from her voice, it came through all the same—“it would be good for him.”

Mike’s blue eyes softened. “You’re good for him, too.”

She scoffed. “I doubt that. He just kicked me out and told me to forget him.”

“I never said he was smart.” Mike grinned. “Just that you’re good for him. Trust me, Luke is a great guy. I’d lay down my life for him, without hesitation. And so would any of the guys he served with.” Mike’s gaze went to the small dark house next door. “He’s gone through a lot, more than one man should have to handle.”

“I wish he’d talk to me about it. Every time we get close, he shoves me away.”

Mike’s nod was filled with sympathy. “Don’t give up on him. Okay?”

She glanced at the property next door. Luke’s house had gone back to the way it was before—shuttered and dark, the blinds drawn. Then she looked back at her house—the monstrosity. She worked a smile to her face. “How could I do that? Apparently, I’m the champion of lost causes.”

* * *

Greta brought the extra-large coffee cup to Thursday’s Quilting Club, the one printed with
MY DAILY SHOT KEEPS ME FROM KILLING PEOPLE
on the front. Given the way things had been going, she was going to need the oversized cup of morning strength. She’d called Luke this morning and when she’d asked about Olivia, he’d told his grandmother to ask Olivia for answers. Then he changed the subject. “Ladies, no quilting today. We have to strategize.”