Wyatt's Stand (Colebrook Siblings Trilogy Book 2) (8 page)

Wyatt’s phone rang and she noticed the tight look on his face when he spoke to whoever it was. He even stepped out onto the porch to talk to the person, and his expression made it clear he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“Everything okay?” she asked when he came back inside a minute later.

He nodded and got to work setting up the other fan without looking at her. “Just some news I was waiting on.”

Not happy news, that much was obvious.

He didn’t elaborate and she didn’t press, although she wanted to. Wyatt was tough to read. He’d softened toward her somewhat since starting the job, at least compared to the first time they’d met, and she didn’t want to lose any of the ground she’d gained with him by sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

“How are the guys doing? You feeling good about their work so far?” he asked as he connected some extension cords.

She reached down to pat Grits, who had run over to insert himself between her open knees as she set up one of the fans. “So far, so good,” she answered, declining to mention that Eddie made her uncomfortable sometimes. If it got too bad she’d tell him. “Everything lining up okay with the tradespeople?”

“Mostly. Still a few gaps here and there. Did you go over that list I gave you?”

The list containing options for various materials he’d given her yesterday. Mostly she was concerned with cost and wanted to opt for the least expensive materials, but in some cases that could turn around and bite her in the ass later. Cheaper wasn’t always better in the long run. “Almost done. Just a couple more things for me to look into.”

“I’d like to talk about them as soon as possible, so I can order everything and have it here in plenty of time.”

She nodded. “This afternoon?”

He shook his head. “I’ve gotta take my dad to an appointment.”

“Oh. Maybe over dinner?”

At that he stiffened and his face went rigid, almost as if she’d hit a sore spot. “I don’t really like eating out.”

“Oh,” she said again.
Why not?
“I’d offer to cook but my kitchen’s not all that functional right now.” As she said it, Eddie and Scott started back up with their sledgehammers.

One side of Wyatt’s mouth pulled up in a sexy grin and his eyes met hers, sending a shock of awareness through her. “Yeah, I guess not. I could… You could come over to my place if you want. I’m not a good cook, but I can pick us up something.”

“No need, I’ll grab us dinner and bring it over.”

Wyatt stood, shaking his head. “No, I’ll do it. What do you like?”

She shrugged. “I’m easy. Whatever you like is fine by me. What time?” She pushed a sweaty strand of hair out of her face, could just imagine how she must look—the texture of her hair gave it a mind of its own and right now it had to be all frizzy, like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket.

“Seven.”

“Okay. Where do you live?”

“I’ll text you the address.” He flipped the switch on the fan she’d just put up. Immediately a rush of cool air washed over her.

She closed her eyes and let out a heartfelt sigh of appreciation. “God, that feels good.” When she opened her eyes her pulse tripped when she saw him watching her, an expression of pure masculine hunger on his face that disappeared so fast she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it.

He cleared his throat, looked away. “I’ll go set this one up in the attic for Barry,” he said, grabbing the other fan. “Come on, Grits.”

Kneeling there on the floor she watched him go, and told herself it was the cool rush of the fan that made her break out in goose bumps and pebbled her nipples against the cups of her bra, not that look she’d just seen from the hard, sexy man walking away from her.

****

At six she called it a day and packed up her tools. Her back ached and she no doubt stank of sweat but it had been a good day.

The crew had left thirty minutes ago and between all of them they’d managed to do most of the demo on the main floor in just three days. The electrician Wyatt had hired was due in tomorrow to get things started, and the plumber a few days from now, along with the HVAC people.

Back at her motel room she stepped under the spray of a lukewarm shower that felt like heaven against her sweaty skin and scrubbed herself clean. Shaved, shampooed and moisturized, she put on a sleeveless, pale yellow sundress and open-toed sandals that showed off her pedicured toes.

It’s not a date
, she told herself as she applied light eye makeup in the bathroom mirror. Still, she wanted to look her best. And if tingles raced through her belly every time she thought about that hungry look on Wyatt’s face, she couldn’t help it. The man was sexy despite his gruff exterior and she was insanely curious about him.

To the west, the setting sun painted the sky in bold strokes of ruby and pink as she drove down the country road to the address Wyatt had texted her. The countryside out here was nothing short of spectacular, all rolling green fields nestled against the mountains.

Turning right at the driveway marked by the mailbox reading
The Colebrooks
, she caught her breath when the main house came into view. The rosy light from the sunset made the yellow two-story farmhouse glow. Its grounds were immaculate, the garden beds out front tidy and the grass cut.

Beyond the house, pastures bordered either side of the property, and a paddock sat out front of a wide red barn. To the right of it sat the cabin Wyatt lived in, a miniature version of the main house, complete with a wraparound porch enclosed by a white-painted railing.

Snagging the bottle of white wine from the passenger seat, she smoothed down the skirt of her dress and tried to ignore the nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach. The moment she stepped onto the front porch she heard Grits barking, then his little face appeared on the other side of the screen door. His ears lowered in recognition, his body swaying with the force of his wagging tail.

“Hey, little man. Is your human home?”

“Right here.” Wyatt appeared in the opening, dressed in a dark-button down shirt and a pair of dark jeans. A surge of arousal hit her as she took in the sight of him, those big shoulders practically filling the doorframe. “Come on in.”

She swept past him, getting a whiff of his clean, masculine scent that made her pulse beat faster. The entryway led directly into a kitchen that was small but clean, and being alone with him here felt intimate.

She held out the bottle, put on a smile. “I’m not sure if you drink it, but I brought us some wine.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He took it from her and went to a cabinet next to the fridge. “You want some?”

“Love a glass, thanks.” She glanced around the space, taking in the layout. “It’s so cozy and bright in here.” Off the kitchen sat a living room with a rock fireplace, and beyond that, a porch that overlooked the fields beyond.

“Best part is the view off the back porch. We can sit out there after we eat.”

“Sounds good. What are we having?”

His lips twitched again. “Italian takeout.”

“Yum. My favorite.” She accepted the wineglass with a murmur of thanks. “Can I help with anything?” She got the feeling he didn’t often invite people over for dinner.

“No, just make yourself at home while I get everything set out.”

Austen sipped at the crisp, cold wine as she wandered through into the living room. She loved the feel of the cabin, masculine without being unwelcoming, and snug. Her gaze caught on some pictures set on the mantel above the fireplace. An urn sat in the center of it, a dog collar wrapped around it.

Stepping closer, her heart lurched when she saw the framed photo of Wyatt before he’d been wounded. He was dressed in his combat utilities, on one knee beside a shepherd-breed military dog. God, just look at him. A true all-American hero. He was wearing sunglasses, a wide, proud smile stretching across his smooth, clean-shaven face.

Seeing him like that, prior to the hell he must have endured after being wounded, sent a sharp pain through her chest. Realizing what the urn held put an unexpected lump in her throat.

His quiet footfalls sounded behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see him paused in the doorway, his expression unreadable. “Was this Raider?” she asked of the picture, using the name etched into the urn.

Wyatt nodded. “Lost her in Afghanistan. The day this happened.” He gestured to the scarred side of his face.

“I’m sorry. What kind of dog was she, a shepherd?”

“No. Belgian Malinois.”

She didn’t know much about the breed, except that they were used a lot by military and law enforcement. “I’m sorry,” she repeated softly, wishing she knew what else to say. “That must have been hard.” As soon as she said it she mentally cringed. Seriously? That sounded so stupid, even though it had been sincere.

A muscle flexed in his jaw, then he nodded. “Yeah.” He straightened, his posture and expression making it clear the topic was closed. “You hungry?”

Wishing she could somehow undo the last two minutes, she nodded and followed him into the kitchen, determined to try and salvage the rest of the evening.

Throughout dinner Wyatt tried not to stare at Austen but he couldn’t help being distracted every time her lush lips closed around a forkful of food. Damn she was sexy, even more so because she seemed unaware of it.

Seeing her on his front porch earlier in that pretty yellow dress that showed off her toned arms and legs had kindled the hunger inside him. She’d left her hair down, all those springy dark curls bouncing around her shoulders and making him wonder if they’d wrap around his fingers if he ran his hand through them. In the overhead light above the kitchen table her creamy brown skin seemed to glow, her dark lashes making the silver-gray color of her eyes even more vivid.

She twirled pasta around her fork and slid it between her lips, her eyes meeting his. They crinkled slightly at the corners as she smiled and he was glad there was no lingering awkwardness after the abrupt end to their brief conversation about Raider. He didn’t like talking to people about his military working dog, or that day, because experience had shown that civilians didn’t understand, and they said stupid things in an attempt to make him feel better, when in reality it just pissed him off.

“This is really good, thanks,” Austen murmured when she’d swallowed the mouthful. Her tongue darted out to lick some sauce from her lower lip and all he could think about was reaching across the table to slide his fingers into her hair and do the licking for her.

That was never going to happen, since she was technically his boss and that would spell disaster. Besides, he wasn’t relationship material. He’d closed himself off from everyone but family, and didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to open himself up again.

“You’re welcome. It’s a lot better than what I’m capable of in this kitchen, that’s for sure.” He could boil pasta and heat up jarred sauce, but he’d wanted to feed her better food than that.

She raised her wineglass to her mouth with her right hand and again his gaze caught on the ring on her third finger. It looked like an engagement ring but he wasn’t sure what it signified that she didn’t wear it on her left hand.

“What brought you to Sugar Hollow, anyway?” he asked.

She shrugged, drawing his attention to the way the top of her dress pulled taut over her breasts. “I was looking for some place small and quaint to settle down in.” Twirling up more pasta, she added, “I’m here to start over.”

Running from a bad relationship? The thought ignited a spark of anger in his gut. If some asshole had hurt her or scared her so much that she’d left Philadelphia and come here to start over, then—

“I lost my fiancé a couple years ago. I’d planned to stay in Philly, but as the months went by I felt the need to go someplace new, away from everything.”

Oh. Hell. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, forced a smile. “Thanks.” She glanced at the ring on her finger, frowned a little as her thumb toyed with it. “He was a firefighter too, but we were on different crews. I got a call on my first night off after finishing a rotation, saying that his crew had been responding to a fire when part of the ceiling had collapsed on them.” She drew a breath, let it out slowly. “He held on for a couple of days, then…”

Unable to keep from touching her, he reached across the table to grip her hand, gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay.” She met his eyes, her fingers curling around his in a warm grip. “Losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, but thankfully it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. I’ve mostly learned to live with his memory, instead of letting it tear me apart. And it’s easier for me to talk to you about it because you didn’t know him.”

Yeah, and he also knew what loss felt like. First his mom, then his Marine brothers and Raider. It sucked each and every time, plain and simple.

Nodding, he squeezed her hand gently before releasing it, a part of him wishing he had a reason to hold on instead. “It fades, but it never goes away.”

She blew out a breath. “Exactly.” She took another sip of wine. “Anyway, that’s how I ended up here. John and I used to flip houses on the side. Smaller projects, nothing like the one you and I are working on now. We’d always dreamed of renovating a Victorian. So when I saw the Miller place and found out the owners were willing to sell, I used the money from John’s life insurance policy and most of our savings to buy it.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Yep, I’m all in, for better or worse. But I never meant to buy it out from under you.”

He’d never expected this, hadn’t even considered she’d been through something like that. God, now he felt like a total jerkwad for the way he’d acted the first time he’d met her. “Honestly? If anyone besides me was going to end up with it, I’m glad it’s you. You deserve it and it suits you. We’re gonna restore it exactly the way you want.” He wouldn’t settle for anything less, out of professional pride, but especially now that he knew her story.

The corners of her mouth lifted in the hint of a smile. “That’s really big of you, Wyatt. I appreciate that.”