Here Comes Trouble (26 page)

What she’d failed to see was that she and Patrick really had a partnership only. Yes, it had been both personal and professional, even intimate, but it was a partnership only. With Brett she not only felt those same connections…but they also had, were developing anyway, a very wonderful friendship. She could, in all honesty, tell him anything. In fact, for the most part, she had. Certainly more than she’d revealed to anyone else. It could have been because she thought he was transient, so what she divulged wouldn’t matter in the long run, but that hadn’t been it at all.

Their connection was true and unavoidable, really. She supposed it was possible after all to click with a person. Or not. And they definitely clicked. On levels that far surpassed the lust and even intellectual chemistry. It was easy because it was right. And maybe that was why she’d been so scared. It was hard to accept that it could be this right, this simple, so quickly.

And now he was telling her things that made her believe he wanted more, too.

How could she not take that chance?

Because if you think Patrick shattered your heart, you’re going to be in for the mother of all apocalyptic destruction if you let yourself fall the rest of the way…and he turns and walks away,
her little voice prodded.

They took another turn, and she didn’t even have to think, or tighten her hold on him. They just relaxed into the turn, perfectly in sync. Which is exactly what they were. With each other. She supposed the remaining question she had was how did he think he’d be in sync with all the rest? Was he willing to walk away completely from all aspects of the only life he’d ever known? Not just the poker, he’d already walked from that. But the rest, too. Vegas was home to him. He had people he cared about there. Could his sudden interest in the wilds of Vermont…and a certain innkeeper…keep his attention long haul?

She had no doubt that he thought he was in it to win it, but could she trust that instinct? Trust him?

And then they were slowing down before reaching the next peak and turning up a dirt road.

“Hold on,” he shouted back. “It’s a bit rutted.”

Like she was going to go “look ma, no hands.” But hey, any excuse to snuggle up a little closer…she wasn’t on the fence about that part.

She winced a few times as they bounced in and out of ruts and went around and alongside a few more. She might have had her face buried behind his back for most of the last run up the hill, because she had to lift her head to peek when they finally rolled to a stop. She breathed a sigh of relief when they weren’t inches from a death drop or anything. In fact, they were still deeply in the trees. Then she looked past his shoulder in front of the bike and saw the clearing. And the house.

He turned off the bike and they both climbed off and removed their helmets. He saw she was looking at the house, not at him, and let her look before he said anything.

It was an old log cabin, and not the prepackaged type. This one looked like the logs had been hewn and set by hand. It was still in decent shape, and a decent size as well. Unique, too. There were two plank wood dormers, painted green it looked like—at one point anyway—set equal distance apart in the roof, and there were chimneys rising at both ends. She’d guess it was at least thirty or forty years old, possibly more. A beautifully crafted front porch had been added at some point. Kirby walked a few feet across the front of the lot and saw that there had been an addition put on the back, as well. Also hand-hewn logs, but the color and age were different. It looked either like a small lodge or a big home. Nature had taken the yard over some time ago as there were pines growing almost right up to the porch and no drive or walkway that was clearly determinable anymore.

Brett walked over and stood next to her. “Well, what do you think?”

“Old, still has good bones. If they’re not chewed up by termites anyway. Unique structure for a cabin. I like the porch. I’d say it hasn’t been lived in for a very long time, so who knows what’s on the inside.” She shifted her gaze up to him. “So…what’s the deal?”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “I bought it. This morning, actually.”

Which explained where he’d been all day, but…wow. “Um. Bought it?” She looked at the house again. “Just like that? Have you been inside?”

“I’ve tromped around it enough. And if it’s not salvageable, then I’ll put something else on the lot.”

“Okay,” Kirby said, because she wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I like the view, the location. Entrance road needs work, but the whole thing will be a huge project, so that’s not a huge obstacle. Mostly I got it for the house, though. I hope it’s sound.”

She half laughed, half snorted. “Me, too. Are you in the habit of just buying things on impulse without doing any research?” All her previous concerns about him rushed right back in. Maybe he was just a compulsive doer. She had no idea if he was as good at finishing what he started, however.

“No, actually. I just knew this was the right first step. I saw the dormer windows glinting in the sun, way down below, when I was out riding.”

“Yesterday, right? In one day, you just—”

He turned then and swung her into his arms; then he made her squeal when he spun them both around. “Sometimes a day is all it takes.” He plunked her feet down but kept her caught up in his arms. “You know what I mean?”

His eyes were so full of joy, she couldn’t help but get pulled in. “Yeah,” she said. “I think I know exactly what you mean.”

He kissed her, and there was something else there this time, along with the passion and instant ignition of need and want. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pouring himself into it, he was…steadied, grounded, like he had the rest of his life to keep doing exactly what he was doing.

And damn if she didn’t want a float in that parade. A real big one.

When he finally broke the kiss, he was still grinning, like a kid with a new toy, which, in a sense, he was.

“So, what are you going to do with it once it’s rehabbed?” She tried not to hold her breath, waiting for the real answer she wanted to hear. He’d said she wouldn’t doubt his intentions after coming up here. Did he really plan to move here? Permanently? She tried in vain to keep from leaping to any assumptions. Maybe it was just a part-time property, that he planned to visit. Occasionally. Maybe he thought that would be enough.

Kirby asked herself, in those very few seconds before Brett responded, whether occasionally was going to be enough for her. And her gut response, before she had time to manage her feelings—or shield her heart—was no. She wanted it all, dammit. All in. Wasn’t that what poker players said when they shoved all their chips to the middle of the table? Well, she wanted to shove chips. Mountains of them.

What worried her was that she’d accept occasionally. Like she’d accepted the half-life she lived with Patrick. And they’d been under the same roof. Hadn’t she said she’d never do that again? Settle for less? Compromise herself right out of what mattered most?

She hadn’t thought she could ever feel…what she was feeling now? It made anything she’d had before pale in comparison.

“Kirby,” he said, more soberly, making her realize that she’d completely gotten lost in her thoughts.

She looked up again, into his eyes. Eyes that saw so much. And wondered what he saw in hers now.

“I jumped in, both feet, with this house. I know it seems reckless to you, but it was the right thing for me. I know what I want now. I know what I want to do next, with my life. I’m excited about it. And I want to share it with you. I want you to be part of this. It’s all wrapped up together for me. The only regret I have is that I should have maybe brought you up here before I got the keys, made you part of that, too. But—”

“But you can afford to jump impulsively; I can’t. If you’re that excited by this, then maybe it was better that you just went for it. I don’t know what I’d have advised you to do if you’d asked. It wouldn’t have been my place to make that decision for you.”

“I want it to be your place. I mean that literally, too.”

She looked at the house again. “Wh—what?”

“I’m going to renovate the house, Kirby. Then I want to decorate it, furnish it, and turn it over to a management company to run.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait.” She stepped back, out of his arms, as that loaded piece of information dropped like a bomb into her brain. “So…you’re not going to live here.”

He laughed. “Well, it will feel like it while I’m working on the place. I plan to be involved in every step, hiring out what I can’t do. But, if you mean afterward, no.”

Her heart squeezed into a tiny little ball. “Then you want to rent it out…I’m guessing to skiers, or vacationers.”

He grinned like it was the best idea anyone had ever had. “It’s going to happen here, Kirby. The snow will come, this season, next season, whatever. And Pennydash will grow. Cabins, chalets, time-shares, will be in increasing demand. I want to be in on the ground floor of that, but I want to design and offer one-of-a-kind, unique locations. Like your inn does.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly cold. To the bone. “So…you’re going into business to compete against me. More or less. You’ll have to pardon me if I’m not exactly thrilled with that idea. I mean, you’re right, it’s going to happen, but—”

He reached for her, but she took another step back, purely instinctive, and tried not to feel bad when hurt flashed across his handsome face.

“Kirby,” he said, “I don’t want to compete against you. I want to do this with you.”

She let that sink in for a second and then spoke from her heart. “I just want to run my own inn. I don’t want to run multiple properties or get back into any kind of—”

“Management companies will run the places. I don’t want to run them and you have a place to run. Your place. I just want the challenge of finding and reworking interesting old places, possibly designing my own as well. But I need your help with that. Or, I want your help with that.” He lifted his hand. “Yes, it means more places that offer guests a night’s stay, but trust me, you have the foot in the door there. You can only take so many guests and I’m offering houses, not rooms.”

“So you want me to run my inn and help you run…whatever it is you’re going to be doing? Brett—”

He stepped forward and tugged her arms from their crossed position. “Come here. Please,” he added when she dragged her feet a little.

“I don’t think as clearly when you have your hands on me.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re on to my evil plan then.”

She couldn’t help it, her mouth twitched a little.

“Kirby, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, you know that.” He leaned down to make direct eye contact with her. “You do know that.”

“I want to know it,” she said.

“This is what I was thinking. The bulk of your business is fall and winter. I can only do what I do during spring and summer. I help you during your high season, and you help me during mine. I’ll use my off season to research, look at property, work on design ideas, and you can use your more relaxed guest booking times to help me finish the places off when I’m done. If you want to. No pressure.”

She laughed. “Right.”

He did smile. “Okay, maybe a little. It’s not something you have to decide in this exact instant. It’s a long ways off before I’m at that stage. I just…I want to share this with you. It’s partly because of you, because of this place, the mountains…I don’t know. It’s like a whole new beginning, what I’ve found here. I couldn’t imagine you not being part of it. You’re such a huge part of it already.”

So he was making a commitment. To Pennydash, anyway. Which put him in her world…permanently. Or at least for the immediate future. Far more of one than she thought she’d have with him. It was hard to let herself go and embrace that…she felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was almost too good to be true. And those things usually were.

“You’re still not sure of me, are you?” he asked.

“Are you of me?”

“I’m sure that when you commit to something, you do what you set out to do. I trust your word. I trust—yes, I trust you, Kirby. I know people.” Something flickered in his eyes then, and she wondered if he was thinking of his friend Dan. “I know enough to be comfortable with my decisions, anyway. Just think about it.”

“Okay, I will,” she said, knowing she had a hell of a lot more to think about than just whether or not she wanted in on his business venture.

“When do you plan to start?” she asked.

“It will depend on what the weather decides to do over the next few months. There’s a ton of preliminary work to be done before any actual work takes place. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy until spring.”

She debated for about five seconds before just blurting out the crux of what was holding her back. “Will you be doing this preliminary work here? Or are you going back to Vegas?”

“Here,” he said, clearly surprised at the question. “I meant what I said when I asked about me staying. I am staying, Kirby.”

She took a steadying breath. But her heart was already off to the races again. “What about home? Your friend Dan? Vanetta?”

“I tried to talk to Dan about it last night, see if he wanted in on the building phase, but…things there…” He trailed off, and the sadness and confusion was clear on his face. “I don’t know what the hell is going on there, to be honest. But I’m working on that, too.”

“So…you really are staying.”

He reached out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “That was my plan.” He took her hand, tugged her closer. “Good plan or bad plan?”

“Good plan,” she said somewhat distractedly, still trying to sort through the onslaught of questions and emotions this sudden turn of events had set to swirling around inside her head. Along with all the ones she already had. But one thing she knew. “You staying is very good.”

“I can move out of the inn, if that makes it better.”

“Makes what better?”

“Whatever it is about this that has you feeling…I don’t know. Trapped? I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I know I’m excited about this, and there’s no way I can hide that; I don’t want to, even if I could. But don’t let my enthusiasm for this make you feel crowded and pushed into a corner. I don’t—”