Billionaire Romance: Out of The Cold (Book One) (2 page)

“Hey, Boss,” he greeted
Henry in his low, growly voice as they stepped out of the Cherokee.
He paused and took a deep breath, his expression going a shade
grimmer. “We got some delays. Oil guy won’t be here until after the
holiday, half his staff is on vacation. Same with the propane guy
for the stove. I went out and got you a twenty-pound tank and
hooked it up to the stove so you can cook your meal. But that’s
gonna be it until after the crew gets back on the 27th.
Sorry.”

“Damn. Well, nothing more
you could do about it anyway.” Henry shook James’ hand, noting
that, although Henry was six inches taller than James, the foreman
seemed to have just as much presence. It was probably the fact that
James was built like he could bench-press a truck.

James glanced past him at
Anna, and gave her a small nod. “Miss McCallister.” His eyes
lingered on hers, and she blushed slightly and lowered
them.

“Mr. Thompson.”

She glanced back up and
saw another faint smile. James had this way of flirting with her
without flirting with her: subtle, as if he almost didn’t know he
was doing it. She had thought more than once of giving up on this
stupid crush on Henry and giving the tough, working-class hunk with
the obvious interest a try, but...her heart just wasn’t on board
with that. It annoyed the hell out of her that James, who was a
genuinely decent guy, hard working and actually interested, was
right there, but she couldn’t get awat from her fantasies of Henry
enough to do something about it. She could only imagine that it
must frustrate James too.

Henry was frowning for
some reason as he went around to the back to pop the hatch and
start pulling out bags of groceries. She went to help him, and
found James beside her piling bags into his tree-trunk arms. “Let
me get that,” he said quietly, and she stepped back with just the
pie plate balanced in her hands.
Well,
okay
.

He led them inside,
elbowing the unlocked door open and pushing through. The foyer was
tiny, as in all these houses: basically just enough room to hang
one’s coat. A narrow hallway led back to the kitchen area, an
archway to the right led to the large wood-floored living room, and
a set of ancient wooden stairs, their treads worn down by the
passage of centuries of feet, led upstairs. Anna looked up at it
quietly, noticing how it had been rebuilt while keeping the tread
wear and the old, carved-wood banister. In the middle of the
shining, modern floor, it looked like a showcased piece of
history.

She went into the white
tile kitchen after them, and found a place for the pie on the
wraparound counter. “Oh wow, good job,” Henry was saying, rubbing
his hands together as he looked around. The whole thing was a mix
of ancient and modern, tiles older than her grandmother on the
walls and floor, and a new copper hood looming over the state of
the art propane stove. The kitchen windows overlooked a large pond
in the backyard that was already covered by a thin layer of ice. In
spring it would be beautiful; amazing. Probably stocked with game
fish as well, if she knew Henry and his eye for detail.

The smile James gave Henry
was a bit less genuine, but obvious anyway, and a little proud.
“Yeah, we worked right up to the wire. If the delivery guys hadn’t
messed things up, you could have had tenants in this
weekend.”

“Oh well. Next time.
Anything I should know about the rest of the place?”

James rubbed his chin.
“Nothing I didn’t put in the report yesterday. Except the one
thing. How late are you two planning to stay on the property?” He
shot another glance at Anna, and this one confused her: he looked a
little...concerned.

“Seven, maybe eight, then
we should head back. Why do you ask?”

James walked to the
window, brushing past Anna lightly, and pointed at the sky. Those
fat, wet-looking storm clouds had trailed them in from the coast,
but Anna had been too wrapped up in Henry to think much of them.
“Those,” he said gravely. “Snow in the Catskills starts early and
we’re used to getting a few feet here and there. But the last few
nights the temperature’s dropped twenty degrees in an hour or two.
And now we have a big storm comin’ in. That’s a bad recipe, Boss.
You two should think about getting out of here before dark, even if
you have to cut dinner short.”

Henry peered out the
window, and then for some reason looked between Anna and the man
standing next to her and frowned again. “I’m sure it will be fine,”
he said dismissively.

James scowled, his eyes
flashing annoyance, and he looked at Anna as if thinking that
Henry’s decision could endanger her. “Boss, all due respect, but
you’ve never wintered in the Catskills. We watch the weather
careful around here. Especially since the hurricane.”

Henry blinked a few times,
then turned and locked eyes with James. “Okay, look, I’ll take that
under advisement. But I want to finish our checklist before we take
off. Do the pipes have that heat tape stuff on them?”

“
Every bit that needs it.”
James sighed, looking down, his eyes still holding a faint, fierce
light. “I need to get down to the new project off of Highway 28 and
make sure that they have their taps open before the temperature
drops, so I’ll be taking off soon unless you need
something.”

“No, that should about do
it.” He held out his hand, and James gave him the keys. “Good job,
James. I’ll push that bonus through for you as soon as we’re back
in cell phone range. Have a merry Christmas.”

James nodded. “You too.”
He gave Anna another look, his brows drawing together in what she
swore was worry, and then headed out through the back door. A
minute later, she heard his Jeep engine start up and drive away.
And something in her head went
Wait, don’t
leave.
A little seed of worry had been
planted inside of her, and she looked up at the sky,
wondering.

“Damn, James makes me feel
like I’m not the one who should be taking credit on this one.”
Henry rubbed his face as he went to unload some of the bags onto
the counter. “He’s the one that directed the build, and his boys
are the ones who did it all. I just paid for it.”

“And if you hadn’t been
there with the money, James and his guys would be unemployed and
this place would still be standing up here a roofless ruin without
an access road.” She gave him a pointed look as she helped him
unpack. Then their hands brushed reaching for the same Tupperware
full of gravy, and she got so flustered that she nearly dropped
it.

“
I guess you’re right.” He
caught the container before it could fall and set it aside. Then he
looked at her curiously. “So, James. Is there something going on
there between you two?”

She stopped dead and
blinked up at him.
Oh damn it, don’t ask
me that. Why would you even care anyway?
“I...have only ever seen him when I’m with you,” she managed
to stammer out, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh. I was curious. He
seems interested.” The hard tone that crept suddenly into his voice
confused her, and she shook her head.

“I barely know
him.”

“Oh. Well, just
wondering.” He sounded slightly relieved.

She blinked at him, and
then let the subject drop, though her head was spinning. Was he
jealous? No, he couldn’t possibly be. Not of her. Billionaires
dated supermodels, not round, quiet, shy girls from middle-class
Delaware families.

T
hey fixed dinner together; she prepped what he hadn’t done
already, chopping vegetables and running things back and forth from
the oven while he stirred pots and added seasonings. It smelled
amazing.

She couldn’t help
noticing, again, how well they worked together, even on such small
domestic tasks. Henry was in a great mood despite the setbacks and
James’s warnings, telling stories about how he’d found the place.
He already had other prospects in mind--including an old barn out
by Woodstock that he planned to turn into a set of artists’ lofts.
“The stables are from the sixteen hundreds. Almost four hundred
years old and still mostly standing except for the roof and some of
the interior woodwork. That’s going to be spring’s project. You
would not believe just how beautiful it is in there, Anna. I’ll
show you the pictures I took on my phone as soon as we’re done
here.”

She smiled at him and was
about to answer when someone knocked on the front door. Her hands
were clean, so she hurried out to answer it. Standing there was a
smallish, round-faced man with John Lennon glasses and long, dark
hair barely covering a scar across his forehead. He was heavily
bundled in a down coat and jeans, and broke into a grin when he saw
her. “Oh hey! I didn’t know you were up here with Henry this time.
I wanted to bring him his Christmas present.”

Toby Castleburg was a
local, one of the woodworkers Henry worked with, and very good at
scouting old properties that could be refurbished. He was only a
few years older than Anna, but had the manner of a big kid,
fidgeting a little bit in the doorway as he smiled. She knew that
under the giant jacket he would invariably have some comic book or
video game related T-shirt on over his thermals. “Where’s Henry?”
He peered past her and she stepped aside to let him in.

“In here, Toby! You
staying for dinner?” Henry’s call was cheerful and welcoming. Toby
was a friend. Henry had this habit of making friends wherever he
went, and he wasn’t classist about it.

“If you’re cookin’ roast
beef, I’ve got to get a piece of that action!” Toby, young, partly
disabled from the accident that had scarred him, and definitely as
working-class as James, had shown up every time they worked in the
Catskills, usually to eat with them or show them around on the back
roads while Henry drove. They met when Monty had gotten out of the
SUV during a visit to Toby's home town of Phoenicia, and Toby had
shown up within five minutes with the dog in hand on a borrowed
leash, asking whose he was. Ever since then, he had had an open
invitation to visit whenever Henry was in town.

“I am. C’mon in.” And Toby
ambled past her, a brown paper package in his arms, face lighting
up as he sniffed the air.

Anna didn’t mind his
presence--well, yes, part of her did, the part that had hoped roast
beef and pie would lead to romantic scenes with Henry in front of
the wood stove. But generally, she was fine with Toby being around.
When he was present, things just couldn’t get too serious. He was a
ray of sunshine in these wintry mountains.

He helped them finish
fixing things as he and Henry chattered. Anna quietly watched the
clouds marching in, stuffing themselves into the sky over the
mountain until the last patch of blue was gone. There they
thickened and darkened, lowering slowly. She remembered James’s
warning and his worried glances at her. She felt the seed of fear
in her stomach grow a little.
I should say
something. Shouldn't I say something? Henry seems determined to
spend a few more hours and he's the boss, but....

They ate well before
sundown, dining at the gorgeous live-edge dining table Toby helped
build. Anna couldn't tell whether it was Henry's concession to
James's warning or whether he was just hungry, but she was secretly
a little glad they were eating early. As much as she loved spending
more time with Henry, her eyes kept going back to the low black
clouds outside the window. James never looked worried about
anything, but he sure had that afternoon.

"Guess it's good you
didn't bring Monty," Toby chattered on between huge bites of roast
beef. "I know how he likes to get out, and the last few nights have
been freezing. And tonight's really gonna be no night for a dog to
be out. Looks like snow. Maybe lots of snow."

Henry frowned but then
forced his face into a more pleasant expression. "Monty's at doggie
daycare, they have already arranged to keep him overnight if we get
back late."

"Guess that's good then."
He perked up. "Hey, did James tell you he got his trailer fixed up?
Just in time, too. I helped him put the new wood stove in. He’s
gonna be a lot warmer this winter, bet you anything. Good thing,
too, because last winter he had a cough for three months! Poor
guy’s had no luck since he got out of prison, not until you came
along.”

Anna paused with her fork
halfway to her mouth. Then she forced herself to take the bite,
chew and swallow. Of course she felt a little worried about James’s
last winter. But mostly what she thought was that Henry was always
doing things like that: offering a second chance to people who
wouldn’t have it otherwise. Like the ex-con who had stolen money to
feed his family. Or the brain-damaged woodworker who sometimes had
convulsions. Or the social-reject secretary who was better with
dogs than she was with humans. Henry had a big heart, and she
wished, with an ache that deepened whenever she looked at him, that
there was room in it for her.

“He didn’t mention it, no.
But I’m glad he did.” Henry sliced off more meat, dipped it in
mashed potatoes and gravy and stuffed it in his mouth.

“Saw the inside the other
day. He scrubbed all the mold out, stuffed it full of insulation.
Got two solar panels of his own. Too bad his neighbors bitched
about the windmill noise or he would have that too.”