Everything You Need (11 page)

“You have every right to despise me. I’ll teach you
Italian curse words just so you can—”

“Brice.” Hazel tried to stifle the laugh, but knew if
he kept going she wasn’t going to succeed. He looked ridiculous, to
say the least. “You’re laying it on too thick now.”

He stood. The lines around his mouth deepened. “I’m
sorry.”

He said it like he meant it. She looked into his
eyes. That emerald gaze had yet to lie or omit his true feelings to
her yet. He did mean it. “Apology accepted.”

“I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Her breath caught, but she lied again as she had
before. “You didn’t.”

She took the flowers he offered. He turned to leave
and she sighed. He hadn’t been caught in a lie. He confessed. He
didn’t have to. She would have cursed again, but he was almost of
sight.

She called out, “Brice, I want you to look at
something before you go.”

He hesitated. “You want me to come in?”

Hazel shook her head. “Not for sex. That’s…” she
hesitated. “Done.”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and came
inside. He frowned down at the floor and then his gaze flicked up.
“What is this?”

“Your house.” She strode to the kitchen with the
roses, but Brice grabbed her elbow.

He shook his head as he spoke, “You don’t have to do
it.”

“I have to.”

She pulled from his grasp, not ready for his touch
yet. Despite what had happened, she still felt in tune with his
moods and emotions. Confusion and want both plainly crossed his
face now. Since she couldn’t be sure if the want was for her or her
designing skills, Hazel turned away.

She sat the bouquet in the middle of the island.
Brice had leaned down to the sketches. With squared shoulders, she
moved over to him.

“I don’t want you to pay me,” she said.

He picked up a sketch of the master bedroom. “I’d be
dumb to turn you down.” He let out a breath and looked at her.
Disbelief she was for real and eagerness that she was for real,
fought for a place on his face. “I give you free reign to do what
you need to do. The only thing that will have a limit is the
budget.”

She had figured as much. Brice had never said it, but
Hazel guessed his funds weren’t unlimited. He wouldn’t be the type
to take out a loan. It was too much like asking for help. It also
made sense with the reason he had chosen this road to convince her.
Sure as hell didn’t make it right, but it made sense.

“If you approve the plans I can start tomorrow. I can
draw them out in full detail if you need—”

“I trust you.”

Those three words, said softly in the midst of all
the unspoken words between them, meant more to her than his
apology. Hazel nodded, not able to speak past the emotions
surfacing inside her. He rose, not speaking, almost as if he
understood the inner turmoil.

At the door he turned. “For what it’s worth, I still
want you.” He closed the door behind him.

She was definitely going to have to burn her feminist
card, because she still wanted him, too.

*****

The woman didn’t sleep. She couldn’t, not with the
amount of work done in the past three days. After they’d painted
the living room together, Hazel set him up to build the shelves and
then the entertainment center once those were done; when that task
was finished she wanted the headboard completed.

She hadn’t stopped there. Tony didn’t have the sense
to stay away, and she had him pulling up the linoleum in the
bathroom, to replace it with ceramic tile. If Pops stopped by,
Brice was sure she’d set him to work, too.

He wanted to complain, but already the house had been
transformed. He’d thought a designer was a glorified decorator, but
it was much more. Hazel was much more. Her only problem was taking
a break when she needed one.

He pounded the final nail into the shelf and stood
back. The clack of heels sounded behind him. Exhaustion darkened
the skin beneath Hazel’s eyes. He fought the knee-jerk reaction to
reach out to her. Instead, he kept his tone professional to match
the one she’d been using with him. “Is it okay?”

She frowned. “Yes.”

“Then why the frown?”

She waved her hand at him. “Just a headache.”

He had no right to care about her anymore, but it
didn’t stop him from taking her hand. “Have lunch with me.”

She didn’t pull her hand back. It told him what he
needed to know. She said, “We still have to—”

“Have you eaten lunch today?”

She winced. “I missed breakfast, but—”

“I have some shrimp fettuccini in the
refrigerator.”

“You must have gone home recently. Is that where Tony
went?”

“He went home to drag Pops out here.” She kept her
hand in his. He’d think about how he’d missed her touch later;
first he had to feed Hazel and get her off her feet.

She sighed. “We really don’t have the time—”

“I’ll heat it up, and it’ll take us only a little
while to eat it. I also have makings of a salad. Some wine.” She
started to protest again, but he talked over her. “We are ahead of
schedule, and too much work makes for a grumpy Hazel.”

She winced again. “Charlotte used to tell me
that.”

She glanced down at their intermingled fingers. She
sighed but didn’t pull away. The tension in his shoulders loosened.
He hated to let her go, but he did to go into the kitchen. A high,
wooden counter separated the living room from the kitchen. Hazel
leaned on it, and a sense of relief surrounded her.

He broke the silence with, “How many design jobs have
you done?”

“Let’s only count the good ones.” She smiled. “I’ve
got to say I’ve lost count. My boss made me intern for a year. She
supervised everything I did and then gave me the reins afterward. I
had a good three-year stretch before my work started to stink.”

Brice placed a large bowl of salad in front of her.
“Toss that while I heat up the rest.”

He smiled to himself when she sat down on the wicker
barstool. Another new addition to the house she’d made.

“I’m curious,” Brice mused out loud. “You don’t have
to answer. Why do you think you burned out?”

“I—” She stopped and then tilted her head. “I didn’t
love it anymore. I didn’t see the point. My last client was the
worst kind.”

Brice turned with a smile. “I’m your last
client.”

She laughed. “Not you, but Maureen. God, she was
changing things every five minutes. Before that I had about twenty
Maureens and it just started to…”

“Suck the life out of you.” He frowned down at the
pot on the stove. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to go back.”

He placed the food on a plate, slid it to her, and
then fixed one for himself. “Well, it seems pretty simple to me.
You become selective in the jobs you take. Sounds to me like your
boss has been using you as a one-woman work horse to make a profit.
I know that’s what business is about, but even then you should only
have to take the jobs you feel passionate about. You have the
clout.”

He forked up some noodles and met her gaze. “The
crazy up side is that you’ll be in higher demand because you won’t
take any job.”

She stabbed a shrimp and stuffed it in her mouth.
“Sounds like a cure-all.” She shook her head. “My boss wouldn’t go
for that.”

“Who’s to say you have to work for her? I’m sure you
can put out your own shingle and do just fine. You can remind your
boss of that.” He placed the fork down. “I meant it when I said
this house is a huge opportunity for you. It wasn’t just a sales
pitch.”

A corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “My own
business.” She chuckled, but the sound held no mirth. “My parents
would have loved that.”

“Where are they?” It was a moment too late to take
the comment back.

The whole time they’d been with each other she’d
never talked about them. Not even Brice was so dense as to not
realize there was a reason.

Hazel bit her lip, but he caught the tremble. “They
died right before I graduated.”

“You don’t have to talk about it.” His chest
tightened at the raw emotion in her voice.

“No,” she shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I should. I
never do.” She twirled a long noodle onto her fork before speaking
again. “My father had been drinking and still tried to get behind
the wheel. Bad rainy night, crappy tires—all the makings of
tragedy. They were hit by a car while arguing. Crossing the
street.”

He curbed the need to touch her, knowing she’d break
if he did. Brice gripped the fork in his hand. He stayed quiet to
let her finish talking.

She only stuffed her mouth full of food, probably to
keep from saying anything else. The air started to thicken from the
unspoken words. He considered taking them for another dip in the
ocean, but judging from the tension holding her stiff, that
wouldn’t work this time.

“Hazel, I’ve wondered,” he paused. She blinked,
clearing the shine of potential tears in her eyes. “How do
porcupines have sex?”

“What?” she said with a laugh.

“I would think it would be painful, but still they
aren’t extinct.”

“Do you think of anything else besides sex?”

He tilted his head as if to consider her question. A
smile pulled at his own lips. “On my birthday I think about getting
old, and that’s about it. I can’t even say I don’t think about sex
while I’m working.”

She smiled and picked up her fork again. The constant
knot in his stomach loosened at her silent thanks.

“How’s your fettuccini?” he asked.

“It’s delicious, Brice.”

*****

The two weeks had flown for Hazel. She’d emailed the
preliminary pictures of the house to Laura and had been given back
her job. She’d been walking on cloud nine since the phone call. Now
all she had to do was the final walk-through for her portfolio.

She cupped the camera in her hand and stepped into
the master bedroom after Brice. He had finally replaced the old
claw-foot tub with the one that could seat at least three
people.

Hazel smiled because the view had become the focal
point of the room exactly as she’d planned. Besides having her
signature touch of sophistication, with a rustic vibe, the house
didn’t look like any other of her designs.

She lifted the digital camera, turning her back on
the view to take the “after” photo for her presentation to
Laura.

She took another photo. “I need to see the bathroom.
You did say it had water jets?”

“It has a place to dole out bath oils and
bubbles.”

That made her put down the camera to reach his side.
A noise strangled in the back of her throat.

“It
can
fit three people,” she damn near
moaned.

Without thinking, Hazel kicked off her shoes and
jumped into the empty tub. Her arms were raised high, but not an
uncomfortable height. She closed her eyes, seeing herself after a
long day in this tub. The bubbles would tickle her chin; water
would surround her in its warm embrace, candles, exotic scents—a
home.

Her eyes shot open on a thought. Brice leaned against
the jamb between the bathroom and master bedroom. Dread, like a bad
egg salad, languished at the bottom of her gut. She hoped that,
just like food poisoning, it would pass quickly, because Hazel was
about to rip the foundation from their budding relationship.

The last time she’d felt this at ease her parents had
been alive. She glanced at the deep cream walls. Hazel had wanted
to hand paint golden wisps along the trim, but time hadn’t allowed
for such a personal touch. The house could sell as is, but it’d
take just a few more months to make it a home. A home quite unlike
the house she lived in back on the mainland.

“What are you thinking?” He smiled down at her.

She looked back at him, knowing the words she was
about to speak would change what was between them once again. She
let out a breath. “How much are you selling the house for?”

He straightened, almost like he knew what she was
about to say. “Why?”

“I want to buy it.”

“No.” Steel strengthened his reply.

“Look, I want the house—”

He crossed his arms, his jaw line hardening. “No, I
don’t want your money. I don’t need you to help me start my
business. I can do it on my own.”

Her own temper flared. “And you wanting me to
decorate the house didn’t already defeat your stand on that
ideal?”

His eyes darkened, this time with anger rather than
passion. “You wouldn’t have a job to go back to if I hadn’t offered
you the design of this house.”

Every nerve in her body stiffened at his retort, but
she rose from the bathtub ready to strangle him. “Oh, is that what
you really think?”

He blew out a breath. “I didn’t mean it like
that.”

“Yes, you did. Don’t take it back now. You can’t see
past your own pride to know what’s right here in your face.”

“And what’s that?”

“An opportunity.” Hazel knew she should stop. She
knew what it was like to say words that you could never take back.
She’d done it with her parents before they died, but she couldn’t
see past the temper, blinding her vision. “How many times has it
knocked on your door? Your father is laying a silver platter at
your feet and you don’t want to take it.”

“Don’t make this personal, because you want something
I can’t give you. I told you from the beginning that I wasn’t good
for you. You didn’t want to listen. You damn near dragged me into
this—this—”

“Relationship.” Hazel finished for him. “Getting me
naked really showed how much you were putting up a fight.”

Brice put up his hands. “I’m not selling the house to
you. Since I can see there is going to be hard feelings between us
once I sell it, I can send you the money I owe you for decorating
the house.”

God, she wanted to hit him upside that hard head of
his. She started to push past him and then stopped. “You can’t
afford what I gave you, you idiot.”