“You’re married!” she yelled.
A dark chuckle followed Bron down the hallway. Frantic, she lunged for the door and closed it, then leaned her back against it for good measure. He’d ruined everything. Her walls were crashing down and she couldn’t deny her attraction to him after what he had drawn from her. He’d known what he was doing, and didn’t care that his actions would torture her.
She leaned her head back against the cold wood as a tear slipped down her cheek.
He’d been right. The caring Bron from her childhood was gone.
Bron-the-Man had killed the sweet boy she knew.
****
Fuck, what had he done? Bron ran a hand through his hair as the sound of Sam’s crying drifted through the closed door between them. She was shredding him from the inside out, and his bear was roaring for him to go back in there and finish what he’d started. His inner monster was bellowing for him to make her his, more proof that he was losing control over that part of him. He reared back to hit the wall and stopped himself short.
She was human, dammit.
Squatting down, he listened to her sniffles slow and hated himself even more. He’d hurt her. Again.
God, she was so beautiful when she’d given in to him touching her. Head tipped back, wet for him in an instant. She even smelled the same as he remembered. His Sam. Fuck.
He wanted to lick her off of his finger, and what kind of man did that make him? She was in there crying because of him, and he wanted to taste her still.
Trent would be laughing his ass off right now if he saw what Sam was doing to him. He’d never seen the danger in claiming a human and had been loud about his preference for Sam over Muriel. His brother was probably ghost-laughing at him right now.
Heaviness settled across his shoulders and he pressed his forehead against the wall. He wished Trent were here right now. He’d say something clever to Sam and ease her pain. He’d fix everything Bron messed up with a joke and a smile, just like he always had.
He closed his eyes and tried to tamper his emotions. He’d taken Trent’s lighthearted outlook on life for granted, and now it was too late to tell him what it had meant to Bron that he was there through everything that had happened.
He was breaking apart.
“Hello?” Reese called from the entryway.
Clearing his throat, Bron straightened. “In here.”
Reese appeared in the hallway with her hands full of plastic bags of what smelled like pungent cleaning chemicals. “Where’s Sam?” The frown on her delicate face said she knew something was wrong. No doubt her shifter hearing had picked up on the sniffling and hiccupping that was coming from Sam’s old room.
“I think she needs you,” he said thickly.
“What did you do?”
He leveled her a glare and strode past her toward the kitchen. He’d start the evaluation there, as far away from Sam’s room as possible.
Sam had been exactly right about him. He was an asshole.
****
“Fifteen thousand dollars?” Samantha was trying not to yell, but holy moly, fixing up the house was going to drain her entire savings account.
She couldn’t even look Bron in the eye after what they’d done earlier and she had busied herself with scrubbing the kitchen counters until the dark Corian shone, but at the actual estimate, she’d stopped what she was doing to gape at him.
“You want me to do a rundown of what needs fixing?”
“Yes. I definitely want to know what that giant sum of money is going to cover.”
“Roof needs work, hot water heater needs to be replaced, most of the boards on the outside of the house need to be replaced and the inside and outside will have to be scrubbed and painted.” He plopped a page of notes onto the counter and braced his arms against it until his triceps flexed, reading off of it so fast it was hard for her to keep up.” New sheetrock where the old has cracked, at least a dozen leaks patched, a pier or two to keep that foundation steady, gutter work, the carpets have to be replaced, an exterminator needs to come out and take care of your rodent problem, and you have a hive of bees in your west wall that will need to be removed. The chimney is unusable until someone can fix the crack running the length of it, and this linoleum floor you have in the kitchen has to go. It’s faded and peeling, and kitchens and bathrooms are what will sell this house. I quoted you low in case you’d like to do some of the work—demolition, painting, spackling and the like—on your own. If you want my crew to do it all, it’ll add another three grand on top of that.”
“No. I’ll do it. No more adding money.” And thanks a lot, Momma, for gifting her a lemon house. “How long until everything would be finished?”
“If my boys start tomorrow, I think we can get it all done in a week. I’ll have to order the water heater, but I can do that today and it’ll be here in time if you give us the go ahead.”
He seemed so aloof and professional considering the very unprofessional time they’d spent together earlier. She could imagine him speaking so clearly and confidently to anyone he did an estimate for. Bron-the-Man knew business.
“How do I know if this is a good deal if I don’t have any way to get a second opinion?” she asked. But when she looked at Reese, who was cleaning the dusty dining room table, her friend’s eyes were wide and she was nodding her head.
“I gave you a fair price. And I’m throwing in the plumbing because I think I know what the problem is and I can fix it myself.” Bron straightened his spine and attached the sheet of scribbled notes to his clipboard, then turned to leave. “You let me know when you’ve made a decision either way. Reese can get you my number.”
“Wait,” she called. “Yes. My decision is yes I want you to fix this house.” She dropped her gaze to the curled corner of the cracked linoleum floor. “This is the last thing holding me here, and I’m ready to let it go.”
He sighed, and from his shadow that stretched across the floor toward her, she could see him hook his hands on his hips. He looked more defeated than defensive. “I’ll have the boys out here first thing in the morning. For now, this place needs to be a safe working environment for them though, so we need to get it cleaned up and I need to strip this carpet out of here. The animal smell is too strong for my crew.”
Granted, there was a hint of cat urine, but it wasn’t that bad. And she’d slept in here all night and hadn’t keeled over from the fumes, but so be it. She would spend even more time in the presence of the man who had destroyed her so his pussy crew didn’t get their senses of smell offended.
“Fine.” She sounded less grateful than she’d intended, but he was already headed back to his truck to pull God knew what from the bed full of tools in back.
“Sam,” Reese whispered. “You got a good deal, trust me. He way underquoted you. He won’t make any money off this job.”
Huh. Samantha frowned out the open door to where Bron’s silhouette was rifling through a plastic bin in the back of his truck in the saturated early morning light. He must’ve wanted her out of Joseph extra fast if he wasn’t even going to haggle with her. The thought of his motivations made her insides turn cold. How could he touch her so intimately, and want her gone so badly all at once?
He has a wife, she reminded herself, and another wave of guilt washed over her as she thought about his hand down the front of her pants in the bedroom earlier. She wasn’t a home wrecker. The sooner she left him behind, the better.
For the next three hours, she and Reese cleaned the house from top to bottom. Bathroom, kitchen, windows, air filters, ceiling fans, everything. Around hour two, she’d found the old radio she used to listen to when she was doing her homework, and tuned into a local station.
It was hard not to pay attention to Bron as he moved around the house. He never stopped working, only moved from one project to the next. The water ran clear now and the newly cleaned toilet in the single bathroom flushed. The shower even ran, convincing Samantha that Bron had been a plumber in another
life. The man had an instinct for it, and he’d even replaced some of the pipes under the sink without even Googling how to do it. He was a little intimidating now as she realized he’d lived a different life than she’d imagined for the past six years.
“Samantha,” he called from the living room.
She pulled the oversized yellow cleaning gloves from her arms and blew a strand of damp hair from her forehead. She wasn’t even tempted to see what she looked like in the mirror, and Bron didn’t deserve her vanity.
“You want the good news or bad first?” he asked as he knelt in the back corner of the main room.
“Lay the bad news on me.”
“I was hoping the pad under the carpet was salvageable to give us a little more room with the budget, but it isn’t.”
“Great.” The work hadn’t even officially began and they were adding money to the budget. “What’s the good news?”
“Look.” He lifted the corner of the carpet and pulled the blue speckled pad up along with it. Underneath were dirty wooden planks. “You have wood floors under these carpets. I bet I can sand and re-stain them, and it’ll be another good selling point for the house. We won’t have to pay for new carpet in here either.”
“Really?” She loved wood floors. Grabbing the corner, she pulled backward with all of her mite, and it budged an estimated three inches. Stupid scrawny arms.
The corner of Bron’s sexy lip turned up and he nodded his head for her to back up. Then with one stout yank, he pulled it to the middle of the room and went to work on another corner.
“I loosened it,” she muttered.
He barked a laugh but it couldn’t be at her. He was too far away to hear over the blaring radio crooning about a couple finding their luck someday. Still, she was thankful for whatever had amused him, because it had been so long since she’d heard that booming laugh of his. She would never admit it, but it was the sound she’d missed the most, and it warmed the places in her that had gone cold with his distance. Even if the laugh wasn’t for her, she was going to cherish it.
With the old musty carpet removed and tossed onto the overgrown front lawn, the house seemed bigger and already smelled much better.
“I’m hungry,” she said as Reese came out of Momma’s old bedroom with an armful of linens they’d left behind. “You want to go to the cafe in town? My treat for helping me with all of this. Really, I owe you about thirty lunches.”
“You don’t owe me anything. Today has been a beautiful distraction from the crap that’s been going on,” Reese said with a sad smile. “I didn’t have any plans this morning and sitting around won’t do me any favors. Besides, I missed you. It’s been nice spending time with you, even if it’s just cleaning. We spent a lot of hours in this house together.”
“Momma always joked she might as well adopt you, you slept over so much.” Memories of inseparable summers brought a smile to her face. “I’m still hungry.”
Reese dropped the linens onto the wooden floorboards and wiped her hands. “Come on, Young. It’s probably been way too long since you had a good chicken fried steak.”
Locking up wouldn’t matter. If no one had robbed the place or squatted here before now, it was a pretty safe bet they wouldn’t pick tonight to do so. Plus it was a small town. That’s just what people did—left their doors unlocked.
She turned, determined to invite Bron to lunch in a very civilized manner, but he was pulling at the back of his shirt and it was over his head before she could say a word. His skin had always been the color of cream, so fair he practically glowed, but across his upper arm was a tribal tattoo of some kind. And Bron’s lanky days long behind him, now he was all man with muscles that rippled across his arms and stomach as he reached for a clean shirt. From his profile, the sun hit every abdominal muscle, and his jeans hung so low, she followed the flexed crease that bracketed his hip and delved into the waist of his pants.
“Holy. Shit,” she muttered.
Bron’s gaze jerked to her and he froze.
“Nice and subtle,” Reese drawled, shaking her head beside Samantha.
Heat seared up her neck and landed in her cheeks as he gave her a calculating look and pulled the other shirt over his head. She’d known he was well built from the way he filled out the suit yesterday, and from the way his arms pressed against the threadbare fabric of his work shirt today. But this was ridiculous. He was perfectly chiseled like some MMA fighter or something. She didn’t remember Bron being a gym rat, but maybe it was yet another thing she just didn’t know about him anymore.
“You should see your face right now,” Reese said with a knowing smile. “You look like you just ovulated.”
Ignoring Reese, Samantha called, “You want to go to lunch with us?” Her voice sounded airy and desperate. “I mean, we’re going anyway, and I feel like the least I can do for you fixing the plumbing is buy you a meal.”
“No,” he clipped out.
She narrowed her eyes at his stern tone.
“No, thank you,” he corrected himself with a grim set to his mouth. “I’m going to go make some calls. The boys will be out here in the morning. You ladies have a nice day.” With that, he walked around his truck and hopped into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life and he sped off like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
She watched his pickup disappear around the corner. It had been stupid to invite him. She glared at the stained carpet draped across the weedy front yard and blamed her psychotic break on the cat piss fumes.
Chapter Five
“Give me your phone,” Reese said.
“Hmm?” Samantha asked, dragging her gaze from the large picture window in the front of the cafe. She could’ve sworn the couple making out on the park bench outside used to sit near in her science class. She just couldn’t remember their names.
“Phone.” Reese waved her hand impatiently. “You’ll need Bron’s number in case anything comes up at the house.”
Suspiciously, Samantha narrowed her eyes as she handed it over. “Why do I get the feeling you are pushing us together? Why didn’t you tell me the guy you knew for construction work was Bron and his crew? You could’ve just said that yesterday.”
“Would you have okayed him to come over and look at the house?”
“No.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. You would’ve been on East First Street headed out of town by dawn this morning if you knew he was your only option at rehabbing your house. I want you to stay.”
“Reese, I’m not staying. You heard Bron when he said the job will only take a week. Already the place is looking better. This is just temporary. I have a life back in Portland.”
“Even if you’re here for a week, it’s better than a day,” Reese said softly as she hit save on the number she’d entered and handed the phone back.
“Why did we stop talking?” Samantha asked suddenly. There hadn’t ever been a big blow-out fight or anything. The phone calls had just gone longer and longer in between.
“Life happened,” Reese said with a shrug. “You were busy, I was busy, we didn’t ever see each other and neither one of us was ever big on phone talk when we were kids. We’d always just ride our bikes over to each other’s house and hang out.”
“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t make more of an effort. I should’ve kept in touch with Trent too, but with him, I was scared he still hated me after what my dad did.”
“Sam, I can’t tell you why right now, but I will say that Trent wasn’t mad at what your father did. Neither was Bron.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “He had his reasons for doing what he did, and the Cress boys understood that.”
Frowning so hard it hurt her face, she asked, “What do you mean?” She sure didn’t understand Dad’s reasons for stalking Mr. Cress in the middle of the night and knifing him to death in the woods behind his house, so how had his sons forgiven so easily?
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Reese smiled at the waitress and rattled
off her order like a pro.
Samantha’s mental facilities had shut down completely, so she murmured, “I’ll have the same,” and hoped Reese hadn’t ordered anything with jalapenos.
“Reese, what’s going on?” she asked as the waitress bustled away. “Do you know something about what happened with my dad that I don’t?”
“No. Forget it. I’m serious. Look, if you stick around long enough, you’ll figure it all out. A week isn’t going to be enough time though, I’m telling you that right now. Stay in Joseph and give this place another chance.”
“Reese,” she groaned, lobbing her head back and staring at the ceiling tiles. Lowering her chin again, she said, “I can’t stay here for the same reasons I left. Bron…shit.” She clenched and unclenched her hands to steady their traitorous shaking. “I can’t watch him and his wife flitting around town holding hands and making googly eyes at each other. I’m not that strong.” Yet. She wasn’t that strong yet.
Reese nearly choked on the cola she was slurping. “Who, Muriel?”
“Yes, Muriel. Or is there another wife I should be concerned with?”
“Have you asked Bron about his wife?” Reese said the last word like it was a curse.
“It’s not exactly appropriate conversation to have with him considering our past history. No, I’m not asking him about the woman he left me for.”
“Well,” Reese muttered, stirring her straw around the dark, bubbly fountain drink. “I think you should.” Silence stretched between them, and finally she said, “You should come out to Bron’s house tonight at seven. Maybe it’ll answer some of the questions you have.”
“Why would I go anywhere near his house? He borderline hates me, and I don’t feel like getting shot for trespassing. Plus I was just lost in the woods there yesterday. I’m still traumatized from my last near death experience.”