Читать книгу Home Sweet Home - Kim Watters - Страница 10

The knock on her front door just before seven o’clock still took Abby by surprise even though she expected it. Agreeing to Helen Wendt’s scheme of sharing a pizza at home with Cole so they could continue to go through plans probably wasn’t one of her smartest moves. Not like she had much choice in the matter. Her fingers smoothed out a tiny crease in the blue and white floral printed tablecloth she’d found in the linen closet. The automatic gesture reassured her, reminding her of how she used to rub her blankie between her fingers to calm down when she was a child. She glanced around the dining room before she stepped into the reception area.

Her low heels clicked against the wood flooring and now she questioned her sanity as to why she’d changed into a skirt. Or let her hair down. Or applied just a hint of makeup. Would Cole think that she was going to be a willing participant in Mrs. Wendt’s matchmaking scheme?

Her nervous sigh rattled all the way to her toes. Too late to change now.

Light spilled in through the stained-glass window and beyond the pane Abby could see Cole’s silhouette against the dark backdrop. Distorted and colorful, yet tied together into a recognizable shape, his image reminded her of a Picasso she’d studied in art class.

She took a deep breath, flipped her hair behind her shoulders, and then rubbed her damp hands over the black skirt. The lock didn’t want to slide back again, which didn’t help her nerves. Finally, using her shoulder, she pushed against the door to relieve some of the pressure on the lock and tried again. This time it worked.

Pulling back the oak door, she saw Cole balancing a large square box with a white plastic bag set on top. His hesitant smile signaled that, like herself, maybe he wasn’t as comfortable with the dinner idea, either. “Hi, again.”

“Hi, yourself.” Abby took the box and watched as Cole carefully wiped his feet on the mat before he shrugged out of his black jacket and hung it on a hook on the hall tree.

He retrieved the pizza. “Thanks.”

“We’re in the dining room tonight. I thought it would give us more room.”

“Good idea.” When he moved passed her, the hint of freshly applied aftershave drifted by her nose. His still slightly damp hair curled away from his forehead. Abby forced her hand to remain at her side instead of reaching out to touch it. This reaction to Cole was crazy. He was her contractor. Nothing more.

“Smells delicious.” Abby took her own seat kitty-corner from where Cole stood and settled the blue linen napkin onto her lap.

“It is.” Cole opened the plastic bag and pulled out a baggie full of celery, some Ranch dressing and a Styrofoam container and placed them on the table. “I also took the liberty of getting some barbecue chicken wings. Mama Zita’s place is the best in town. Or it used to be anyway.”

Then he flipped up the lid to the cardboard box, revealing the thin crust pie covered in pepperoni, sausage, onions, green peppers and olives. The tangy aroma teased her taste buds and made her mouth water. Her stomach growled in anticipation because she hadn’t eaten anything since a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at noon.

“Wow. It looks wonderful, Cole.” Abby held up her delicate china plate so Cole could set the slice of pizza on it.

His eyebrows lifted. “Plates? I’m sure I could have gotten some paper ones at Mama Zita’s.”

Abby set it in front of her. “I found paper plates in the pantry. I didn’t want to use them.”

“Why not? They’re so much easier to clean up.” A frown emerged as his gaze roved over her face as if he were trying to make up his mind about her.

She could almost hear the imaginary taunts she’d thought she’d left behind in her awkward teenage years. She knew it had been silly of her to use the plates in the large, built-in cabinet behind her but Abby dared to hope Cole would understand her odd behavior. Her pointer finger traced the gold edge of the antique ivory plate with the multicolored floral print painted on the surface.

“Paper means temporary and on the move and seems a bit impersonal. I want permanence. They’re not exactly my type but they fit with the theme I envision for the house.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. It just surprised me. Outside of a restaurant, I haven’t eaten off a real plate in years.” Cole tucked his napkin on his lap, a hesitant smile creeping across his lips. His confession only solidified his lack of willingness to stay in one place. “You and my sister would get along. She refuses to use paper or plastic because it brings up painful memories.”

“Oh. I’d like to meet her sometime.”

“I’m sure you will. Christine lives on the other side of town but she owns a cute boutique on Main Street. She makes candles for a living.”

Pleasure filled her, yet panic tried to take hold. Cole noticed. Abby bit her lip and glanced away from the twinkle in his eyes. She may have gone overboard though with the candle in the slightly tarnished pewter candelabra gracing the center of the table. The dancing flame created an almost intimate and romantic atmosphere, virtually blocking out everything but the two of them. She grabbed her crystal goblet and drank most of the water inside. While it quenched her parched throat, it didn’t come near to satisfying her need to fit in.

But her lopsided attraction wasn’t the only thing that made her squirm when she picked up her slice. After Cole helped himself to his own pizza and wings, he folded his hands together and bowed his head. Heat creeping to her cheeks, she quickly set down her food and mimicked Cole’s movements. At least he hadn’t asked her to say the prayer.

“Dear Lord, bless this food and this house. May the restoration go quickly and easily. Amen.”

“Amen.” Abby found herself saying the word. She didn’t choke, nor did any lightning bolts appear from the sky. Having heard it many times, she discovered it wasn’t as foreign to her as she’d thought. Abby had just never felt the urge to say it before tonight. Maybe she should go through more carefully the packet Delia gave her and explore the possibilities of religion when they finished the house. If she could open her practical mind and believe… Right.

If God truly existed, why did He let such bad things happen around the world? Why did He take her mom?

Abby picked up her slice again and bit into the pizza. As anticipated, the varied toppings exploded across her taste buds. “This is wonderful. I’ve never had such a combination before.”

“Really?” Cole rested his arms against the side of the table and searched her face. “I thought it was pretty standard. I would have gotten mushrooms, too, but I wasn’t sure if you’d like them.”

“I do, actually.” Abby fell into his warm and inviting gaze. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips and the flame’s reflection danced in his brown eyes. The combination of the candlelight, the inviting scent of pizza and the light sound of classic rock music from the old radio she’d found in the kitchen loosened her tongue. “But a lot of toppings are expensive. When my mom could afford to buy a pizza, we only got cheese. And that wasn’t often.”

Cole’s expression shifted in the flickering light. “I’ll remember that next time. Things changed in my family, too, when my parents split up. Going out to eat, taking in a movie, or even getting the bare necessities like winter gloves and a scarf was a challenge.”

“So that’s why you shoveled my grandparent’s walkway.” Abby gladly shifted the conversation back to Cole. She didn’t want to dwell on the next time or the idea that they had anything similar in their backgrounds because that would probably make her like him more than she already unwillingly did. “And probably why you moved to Phoenix.”

“Among other reasons. I couldn’t wait to get out of this place.”

Abby’s heart stalled at his words. All her life she’d wanted to stay in one place for more than six months. To have what her temporary classmates had. To belong and have a place to call home. She couldn’t imagine wanting to leave Dynamite Creek, and now that she’d found it, she would do everything in her power to be able to stay.

She chewed another mouthful of pizza, realizing she knew nothing about the man next to her except he was about her age and a contractor. If they were to work together, having more background information could only be helpful. Right. She forced herself to swallow, knowing her interest was more personal than professional. “How old were you when you left?”

“Nineteen.” A frown twisted his features as he placed another slice on her plate.

Unused to being served, his action addled her brain. The gentle way he scooped up the wayward bit of sausage and set it back in its place sent her pulse fluttering. If he treated her house that way, or even herself, Abby would have a hard time not falling for him and the way he seemed to care for everything around him. “Thanks.”

His gaze captured hers and Abby couldn’t pull herself from the depths of uncertainty or the hint of despair. Instinctively she leaned closer, wishing she could erase the haggard lines creasing his face, but to do so would be crossing the barrier she’d erected to keep people at a distance.

“I may as well tell you the truth before someone else does. I made some bad choices and got into some trouble here. Vandalism. A prank gone bad. One of my old neighbors intervened with the judge and hooked me up with his brother who owned a construction firm in Phoenix. I liked what I was doing and enrolled in trade school. A few years after I graduated, I struck out on my own.”

“Interesting.” Abby leaned back, any lingering intimacy shattered by Cole’s revelation. Not good. It reminded her of her mother and why they’d had to keep moving. Her head buzzed and her appetite disappeared. Trouble seemed to follow him. Or maybe he actively sought it out?

She should release him from his obligation, but then she’d never get the house done on time or anywhere close to the beginning of May. Would her association with him help or hurt her chances of fitting in? Judging from the few people she’d met, it could go either way, yet she didn’t have the heart to turn him away because she couldn’t reconcile the man sitting next to her with what his partner had done or the poor decisions he’d made in his youth. His actions spoke differently, which was why she needed to give him a chance.

Their conversation turned back to the house as she forced herself to eat the last slice of pizza. At the end though, she still struggled with her curiosity. “What made you decide to do restoration work instead of new construction?”

The clink of ice shared the space between them as Cole lifted his goblet to his lips and drank. Abby couldn’t stop staring at the strong column of his neck or the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he emptied the glass. Finally her glance shifted to the cleanly shaven skin covering his angular jawline and then upward to his firm lips. She wondered how they would feel against hers.

Her breath hitched. The atmosphere in the house only added to her confusion. Going along with Helen’s scheme and eating dinner with Cole had been a bad idea, especially since she couldn’t think of the last time she’d shared a meal with anyone other than lunch with one of her ex coworkers. Yet he sat at the head of the table like he belonged there. As if this space which had been built over 135 years earlier had been constructed with him in mind. He fit into her house, but from what she’d discovered, would never fit into her life. She had to remember that so she wouldn’t get hurt again.

Cole placed his goblet on the table and stared at it intently. His finger traced the intricate pattern cut into the crystal. “Look around you, Abby. This place is a work of art. Unlike the boxes being built today, it has character and life. I’m the artist, dedicated to bringing back the vision that the original builders had in mind. Nothing more. Nothing less. I built my reputation on that and I think that’s why your grandparents hired my company. They wanted to leave you a legacy.”

Her fingers mangled the pizza crust. “I doubt it. As far as I know, they didn’t even try to look for my mom or me. It would have been nice to know I had more family somewhere.”

Cole removed the remains from her hands and wiped her fingertips gently with his napkin. His actions made her dizzy and breathing a chore, yet she didn’t want the moment to end. “There’s always two sides to every story. Maybe someday you’ll discover them. Until then, let’s keep moving forward on the house.”

The house. Good idea. Focus on what’s important. Not the niggling notion that maybe things weren’t quite what they seemed.

Releasing her hand, he pushed the plates to the side. Abby knew it was for the best and willed her heart to quit its frantic beating. She inhaled sharply, forcing her attention from the man to the candle gracing the center of the table and blew out the candle. A puff of smoke wafted between them, temporarily breaking the spell.

“Good idea.” Her voice shook despite her attempt to act normal.

She grabbed for the pizza box the same time Cole scooped up the Styrofoam container. Stunned, Abby watched him wedge the container of Ranch dressing inside with the remaining chicken wings, dump the bones from one china plate to the other, and then stack the plates on top of each other. Cole must have seen her mouth drop open even though she tried to cover it with a yawn.

Shrugging, his lips twisted into a half grin. “What? I was raised to do my share.”

Her mother had obviously been hanging out with the wrong men during Abby’s childhood. Abby followed Cole into the kitchen, taking in the breadth of his shoulders underneath his pale blue collared shirt. She hadn’t paid attention earlier. She sure did now. Her mouth went dry. Somehow she managed to place the leftover pizza in the box on the counter but not before their shoulders grazed. The instant surge of awareness kicked her heartbeat into another rhythm. Heat colored Abby’s cheeks.

“Where did you put the garbage can?” Cole stepped to the side and held up the plate with the chicken bones.

The not-so-spacious area seemed to grow smaller the longer he remained. “Under the sink.”

Instead of looking at Cole, or more specifically the light sprinkling of hair on his long, lean fingers, as they held the plates, Abby stared at the kitchen with new eyes. The room would be the last place she fixed up because guests wouldn’t be allowed inside, but it would be nice to have new amenities like a dishwasher and a refrigerator with an ice and water dispenser. All luxuries she’d grown up without and cost money she didn’t have. A new stove would be a good idea, too, if she could figure out how to use one to do more than the basic stuff.

Abby shook her head to dispel the images of fires and other cooking disasters. She had to learn how to make blueberry scones and other tasty treats to tempt her guests and make them happy. She’d promised her first customers. Of course, to begin with, she had to find the recipe.

“This will just take a moment. I’ll meet you back in the dining room when I’m done.”

Cole searched her expression as he put the two dishes in the sink and finally left the room, giving Abby a moment to breathe before putting the leftovers away. Turning on the hot water faucet, she washed the plates and wished she could wash away his imprint as easily as she did the crumbs.

Disappointment and exhaustion filled her. Turning on the tap again to rinse off the dishes, Abby watched the water spill over her hands and shoot out in different directions. Unlike her emotions, the water represented a release she dared not show. He was just like everyone else in her clichéd life. Here today, gone tomorrow. Cole was simply her contractor, not a prince in one of the fairy tales her mother used to read her. She’d best remember that before she made a fool of herself.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Her spine stiffened, and she shut off the tap before reaching for the dish towel on the counter. She spied Cole’s reflection in the window above the sink as he stood in the doorway and strangled the towel she’d picked up to dry her hands.

“Abby, I want to show you something.”

“No problem. I’ll be right there.”

When Abby finally returned to the dining room a minute later, Cole stood on one of the wooden chairs. Balancing his weight on the edges, he lifted his hands to the ceiling and knocked on the drywall. Hollow, just as he thought it would be.