A Rare Gift
Page 5
He’d like to get dirty with Calliope. The thought of it had him hard and sweating, despite the dropping temperatures.
He’d let fear and failure rule him for so long he’d forgotten all the fundamentals. Like how to treat a woman. How to ask someone out on a date. How to let attraction take over and just go with it.
Why couldn’t Calliope be a woman he’d met at random? That would make this a lot easier, because every time he looked at her, he made the connection to Cassandra, and then the big bad of his past kept rushing back to him.
Which was all in his head and not in reality. Calliope had nothing to do with the failure of his marriage. Maybe it was time to separate the sisters, think of Calliope as an individual and give himself a freakin’ break.
But first he had to work. He focused his attention on the sheetrock and let Calliope slide to the background for a while.
Hours later, his crew had gone home and he was still in the center when he decided to call it quits for the night. The sheetrock had been finished. His crew had put up tarp on the outside to make sure any bad weather wouldn’t ruin the work they’d done.
Wyatt walked into the adjoining room on his way out the door, stopping dead at the window.
It was dark outside—and snowing like crazy. From his guess, there was a foot on the ground already. He grabbed his phone. 8:00 p.m. No wonder his stomach had been growling.
Damn, where had his head been, and why hadn’t Calliope come to tell him she needed to close up the center?
He saw a light on in her office so headed there.
Her back was turned as she studied her computer, furiously clacking the keys.
“You’re still here.”
She jumped, then swiveled in her chair. “Wyatt, you scared me to death. It was so quiet in here, and I saw you were still working after everyone left, so I decided to leave you alone.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “You could have said something to me.”
She shrugged and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I had reports to do anyway. I didn’t mind working late.”
“There’s a foot of snow on the ground.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?” She got up and swiveled open the blinds in her office. “Wow. I knew it looked like it might snow earlier. Had no idea it was going to come down so hard so fast.”
Now was his chance to not be an as**ole for once. “Have you eaten?”
She lifted up a package of half-eaten peanut butter crackers. “A snack. How about you?”
“No.”
“You’re probably ready to get out of here then. I’ve locked the front door with the keys. I’ll let you out.” She grabbed the keys.
“You aren’t leaving?”
She stopped in front of him at the doorway. “Yes, but I need to shut the computer down and grab my stuff.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll wait. Go shut down and grab your coat.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She went back to her desk, bent over her computer. He enjoyed the view of her butt as she did. She folded her crackers, slid them into the drawer and grabbed her coat, bag and keys.
“I need to turn off some lights around here, then I’ll be ready.”
He followed her around as she turned off the lights, checked doors to be sure they were locked and went to the front door. He grabbed her coat and held it out for her this time. She gave him a look as she slid her arms into it.
“Better zip it up. Winds are howling.”
She did, offering him up a smile. “Thanks.”
“Don’t you have a hat and gloves?”
“Yes. In my car.”
He shook his head, threw on his coat, then slipped his knit cap over her head and handed her his gloves. “Put those on.”
She looked down at the gloves, then at him. “But what about you?”
He cracked a smile. “I’m a pretty tough guy. I think I can handle it.”
Wyatt was being nice to her? That was a change. Calliope didn’t know what had come over him, but she wasn’t going to question this rare gift of him in a good mood.
She slipped the gloves on, giggling as they flopped in her hands since they were three sizes too big for her. She squeezed her fingers in them to keep them on while Wyatt pulled the door open.
The wind slammed them hard, tossing snow inside and knocking Calliope against him. He put his hand against her back to steady her.
“Wow, that’s some storm,” she said.
Wyatt took her keys, pulled the door shut and locked it, then put his arm around her and helped her down the stairs. She really wished she’d brought her boots in from the car, but she hadn’t expected an epic snowstorm. Now, snow slid into her socks and tennis shoes and she shivered.
It was hard to walk—at least for her. Wyatt had work boots on and had no problem. He grabbed her arm and led her to the street where her small car was buried.
She looked at the car. “Well, this will take some work. I have a shovel in the trunk.”
“You aren’t driving. We’ll take my truck.”
Snow had already covered his hair. It was coming down so fast she couldn’t even see, and she wasn’t about to argue with him. He led her over to the side street where his truck was parked. The effort to get there exhausted her. By the time he opened up the side door and helped her get in, her jeans and feet were soaked and freezing and she was shivering so hard her teeth chattered.
He turned on the truck’s engine and hit the heaters full blast, then went back outside with a scraper to clean off the windows while she stayed inside. Her feet and ankles stung from the cold.
She should have handed him his hat and gloves back. The temperatures had dropped outside and he was doing the work bare-handed and without a hat. He must be freezing.
He climbed back in and looked at her. “Put your seatbelt on.”
She did, noting his red hands. “You should have taken my gloves.”
“I’m fine. I’m used to working outside in all kinds of weather.”
He put the car in gear and pulled carefully away from the curb. The truck tried to fishtail, but Wyatt controlled it. The roads were hazardous, the snow thick and coming down so hard that even the windshield wipers on full blast couldn’t clear the whiteout conditions enough to see clearly.
Calliope sat quietly and let Wyatt concentrate on the road. He made the right turn and headed down the narrow street. She was glad her house was only a couple blocks from the center, and even making it that far was treacherous driving. There were no other cars on the road. This was a bad storm. He pulled into her driveway and she was glad it wasn’t uphill.
“Got your keys ready?” he asked when he turned the engine off.
She’d already tugged the gloves off and handed them back to Wyatt. “In my hand.”
Wyatt snagged the keys from her. “I’ll open the door. You put the gloves back on. And don’t get out of the car until I come over to your side to get you. You don’t have boots on.”
“You’re coming in with me, aren’t you? The roads are really bad out there.”
He gave her one of those “You’re kidding me, right?” looks that guys gave women sometimes when women thought men couldn’t do something—like climb a mountain. “My truck is four-wheel drive. I can make it.”
But she’d still worry like crazy about him being on the road. “I’ll make soup.”
“You’re on.”
She grinned and waited for him to come around and open the door for her, instantly shivering again as the cold blast of air, sleet and snow smacked her body. They made a mad dash for her front door—as much of a dash as two people could make in snow that deep. Wyatt unlocked the door and they rushed inside. He pushed the door shut and locked it.
She shuddered against the cold and stripped off the hat and her coat, then toed out of her soaked tennis shoes. “I need to change clothes.”
Wyatt stood on her front hall rug and did his best impression of a snowman. “I’m just going to stand here and defrost.”
She laughed. “You are not. Take your coat off and come into the kitchen. After I change clothes I’ll make us some coffee and get started on that soup.”
She ran into her bedroom and pulled off her wet clothes, grabbed some sweats and dry socks, then made a quick stop in the bathroom to check herself in the mirror.
Oh, ugh. She cleaned the wet spots off her glasses, but otherwise there wasn’t much hope for her wet hair, and she didn’t think Wyatt would appreciate her taking the time to shower and put on some makeup. He likely wanted some coffee and homemade soup, not a glamour girl.
She fluffed her wet curls as best as she could, stuck her feet into slippers and went into the kitchen.
She inhaled when she walked in. “I smell coffee.”
“I raided your cabinets and made myself at home.”
Her stomach flipped in a decidedly warm way. “I’m glad. Sorry it took me so long.”
“It didn’t. I don’t think you need to wait on me when I’m perfectly capable of making a pot of coffee.”
He poured her a cup. She reached into the fridge. “Cream?”
“Yeah.”
“How about sugar?”
“No, thanks.”
She grabbed the sugar bowl on the kitchen table and scooped a spoonful into her cup, stirred and watched him.
There were never men in her kitchen. She dated on occasion, but never invited them home and sure as hell didn’t have them in her kitchen making coffee for her.
Seeing Wyatt, his tall, lean body relaxing against her counters, was a little disconcerting. He was so big and her kitchen was small.
And speaking of the kitchen…
She took a swallow of coffee, then set it aside. “Let me get started on that soup I promised.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
She bent down to grab her soup pot and grinned up at him. “Sure I do. I’m starving.” She put the pot on her stove, then went to the freezer to dig out the chicken stock she was so glad she had on hand.
She put the container in the microwave to defrost, then opened the refrigerator, also happy she’d gone to the grocery store yesterday.
“What can I do to help?”
“How are you with a knife?”
He went to the sink and rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands. “Expert.”
“Good.” She laid celery and carrots on the cutting board. “Start slicing.”
While he got busy with that, she tossed the chicken in the stock, added a little garlic and ginger and a few more spices. Soon the soup was bubbly and thick and she put a loaf of bread in the oven to heat up, then added the carrots and celery Wyatt had sliced.
She had a few minutes to rest while the soup simmered and the bread cooked, so she refilled her coffee. Wyatt was sitting at her table, one she’d found at a garage sale.
“You rent this house?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I’m a homeowner.”
He arched a brow. “Really. This and the day care center.”
“Well, this place is tiny. Only a one-bedroom. But it’s a house and it’s what I wanted when I moved here.”
“Why not an apartment? I mean, you’re young and single. I would think a condo or apartment would suit you better.”
“That’s just pissing money away every month.”
He laughed. “A lot of young people do that.”
She took a sip of coffee. “You make it sound like I’m sixteen and you’re my dad. I’m twenty-six and I wanted the investment. I bought this little cracker box of a house because it was all I could afford. When my grandmother died and left half her money to me, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it—invest it in the day care center.
“But I also wanted a house. I didn’t want to throw money away every month on an apartment. I found this place. It was so small, but what else did I need? I’m single, have no kids, no husband, no boyfriend. So as an initial investment it was perfect.”
He was staring at her with that unfathomable expression on his face that told her nothing of what he was thinking.
“What?”
“You surprise me.”
She turned to stir the soup. “Yeah? In what way?”
“I always think of you as being a kid. But you’re not. You’re all grown-up.”
“I’ve been a grown-up for a long time now, Wyatt. Maybe it’s past time you realized that.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
She felt his gaze on her, but didn’t turn around. He could just simmer on what she’d said.
The soup and bread were ready, so she served it up and they ate, drank, and what was most surprising of all—they actually talked.
Wyatt told her about the progress on the room addition at the center, as well as other ongoing projects their construction company had going. She could tell he really loved his family business, even though his brothers seemed to irritate him.
“I understand familial relationships,” she said as they moved from the kitchen to her living room after they finished eating. She had poured them a snifter of her favorite winter naughty indulgence—brandy. Maybe she could get him drunk and take advantage of him. “Families can test you under the best circumstances, but underneath I know you love your brothers.”
He nodded and swirled the brandy around the glass. “They try my patience—I’m sure on purpose at least half the time. Brody likes to tease and Ethan eggs him on. The two of them gang up on me.”
“Most likely to irritate you on purpose because you’re so naturally cranky.”
He’d let fear and failure rule him for so long he’d forgotten all the fundamentals. Like how to treat a woman. How to ask someone out on a date. How to let attraction take over and just go with it.
Why couldn’t Calliope be a woman he’d met at random? That would make this a lot easier, because every time he looked at her, he made the connection to Cassandra, and then the big bad of his past kept rushing back to him.
Which was all in his head and not in reality. Calliope had nothing to do with the failure of his marriage. Maybe it was time to separate the sisters, think of Calliope as an individual and give himself a freakin’ break.
But first he had to work. He focused his attention on the sheetrock and let Calliope slide to the background for a while.
Hours later, his crew had gone home and he was still in the center when he decided to call it quits for the night. The sheetrock had been finished. His crew had put up tarp on the outside to make sure any bad weather wouldn’t ruin the work they’d done.
Wyatt walked into the adjoining room on his way out the door, stopping dead at the window.
It was dark outside—and snowing like crazy. From his guess, there was a foot on the ground already. He grabbed his phone. 8:00 p.m. No wonder his stomach had been growling.
Damn, where had his head been, and why hadn’t Calliope come to tell him she needed to close up the center?
He saw a light on in her office so headed there.
Her back was turned as she studied her computer, furiously clacking the keys.
“You’re still here.”
She jumped, then swiveled in her chair. “Wyatt, you scared me to death. It was so quiet in here, and I saw you were still working after everyone left, so I decided to leave you alone.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “You could have said something to me.”
She shrugged and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I had reports to do anyway. I didn’t mind working late.”
“There’s a foot of snow on the ground.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?” She got up and swiveled open the blinds in her office. “Wow. I knew it looked like it might snow earlier. Had no idea it was going to come down so hard so fast.”
Now was his chance to not be an as**ole for once. “Have you eaten?”
She lifted up a package of half-eaten peanut butter crackers. “A snack. How about you?”
“No.”
“You’re probably ready to get out of here then. I’ve locked the front door with the keys. I’ll let you out.” She grabbed the keys.
“You aren’t leaving?”
She stopped in front of him at the doorway. “Yes, but I need to shut the computer down and grab my stuff.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll wait. Go shut down and grab your coat.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She went back to her desk, bent over her computer. He enjoyed the view of her butt as she did. She folded her crackers, slid them into the drawer and grabbed her coat, bag and keys.
“I need to turn off some lights around here, then I’ll be ready.”
He followed her around as she turned off the lights, checked doors to be sure they were locked and went to the front door. He grabbed her coat and held it out for her this time. She gave him a look as she slid her arms into it.
“Better zip it up. Winds are howling.”
She did, offering him up a smile. “Thanks.”
“Don’t you have a hat and gloves?”
“Yes. In my car.”
He shook his head, threw on his coat, then slipped his knit cap over her head and handed her his gloves. “Put those on.”
She looked down at the gloves, then at him. “But what about you?”
He cracked a smile. “I’m a pretty tough guy. I think I can handle it.”
Wyatt was being nice to her? That was a change. Calliope didn’t know what had come over him, but she wasn’t going to question this rare gift of him in a good mood.
She slipped the gloves on, giggling as they flopped in her hands since they were three sizes too big for her. She squeezed her fingers in them to keep them on while Wyatt pulled the door open.
The wind slammed them hard, tossing snow inside and knocking Calliope against him. He put his hand against her back to steady her.
“Wow, that’s some storm,” she said.
Wyatt took her keys, pulled the door shut and locked it, then put his arm around her and helped her down the stairs. She really wished she’d brought her boots in from the car, but she hadn’t expected an epic snowstorm. Now, snow slid into her socks and tennis shoes and she shivered.
It was hard to walk—at least for her. Wyatt had work boots on and had no problem. He grabbed her arm and led her to the street where her small car was buried.
She looked at the car. “Well, this will take some work. I have a shovel in the trunk.”
“You aren’t driving. We’ll take my truck.”
Snow had already covered his hair. It was coming down so fast she couldn’t even see, and she wasn’t about to argue with him. He led her over to the side street where his truck was parked. The effort to get there exhausted her. By the time he opened up the side door and helped her get in, her jeans and feet were soaked and freezing and she was shivering so hard her teeth chattered.
He turned on the truck’s engine and hit the heaters full blast, then went back outside with a scraper to clean off the windows while she stayed inside. Her feet and ankles stung from the cold.
She should have handed him his hat and gloves back. The temperatures had dropped outside and he was doing the work bare-handed and without a hat. He must be freezing.
He climbed back in and looked at her. “Put your seatbelt on.”
She did, noting his red hands. “You should have taken my gloves.”
“I’m fine. I’m used to working outside in all kinds of weather.”
He put the car in gear and pulled carefully away from the curb. The truck tried to fishtail, but Wyatt controlled it. The roads were hazardous, the snow thick and coming down so hard that even the windshield wipers on full blast couldn’t clear the whiteout conditions enough to see clearly.
Calliope sat quietly and let Wyatt concentrate on the road. He made the right turn and headed down the narrow street. She was glad her house was only a couple blocks from the center, and even making it that far was treacherous driving. There were no other cars on the road. This was a bad storm. He pulled into her driveway and she was glad it wasn’t uphill.
“Got your keys ready?” he asked when he turned the engine off.
She’d already tugged the gloves off and handed them back to Wyatt. “In my hand.”
Wyatt snagged the keys from her. “I’ll open the door. You put the gloves back on. And don’t get out of the car until I come over to your side to get you. You don’t have boots on.”
“You’re coming in with me, aren’t you? The roads are really bad out there.”
He gave her one of those “You’re kidding me, right?” looks that guys gave women sometimes when women thought men couldn’t do something—like climb a mountain. “My truck is four-wheel drive. I can make it.”
But she’d still worry like crazy about him being on the road. “I’ll make soup.”
“You’re on.”
She grinned and waited for him to come around and open the door for her, instantly shivering again as the cold blast of air, sleet and snow smacked her body. They made a mad dash for her front door—as much of a dash as two people could make in snow that deep. Wyatt unlocked the door and they rushed inside. He pushed the door shut and locked it.
She shuddered against the cold and stripped off the hat and her coat, then toed out of her soaked tennis shoes. “I need to change clothes.”
Wyatt stood on her front hall rug and did his best impression of a snowman. “I’m just going to stand here and defrost.”
She laughed. “You are not. Take your coat off and come into the kitchen. After I change clothes I’ll make us some coffee and get started on that soup.”
She ran into her bedroom and pulled off her wet clothes, grabbed some sweats and dry socks, then made a quick stop in the bathroom to check herself in the mirror.
Oh, ugh. She cleaned the wet spots off her glasses, but otherwise there wasn’t much hope for her wet hair, and she didn’t think Wyatt would appreciate her taking the time to shower and put on some makeup. He likely wanted some coffee and homemade soup, not a glamour girl.
She fluffed her wet curls as best as she could, stuck her feet into slippers and went into the kitchen.
She inhaled when she walked in. “I smell coffee.”
“I raided your cabinets and made myself at home.”
Her stomach flipped in a decidedly warm way. “I’m glad. Sorry it took me so long.”
“It didn’t. I don’t think you need to wait on me when I’m perfectly capable of making a pot of coffee.”
He poured her a cup. She reached into the fridge. “Cream?”
“Yeah.”
“How about sugar?”
“No, thanks.”
She grabbed the sugar bowl on the kitchen table and scooped a spoonful into her cup, stirred and watched him.
There were never men in her kitchen. She dated on occasion, but never invited them home and sure as hell didn’t have them in her kitchen making coffee for her.
Seeing Wyatt, his tall, lean body relaxing against her counters, was a little disconcerting. He was so big and her kitchen was small.
And speaking of the kitchen…
She took a swallow of coffee, then set it aside. “Let me get started on that soup I promised.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
She bent down to grab her soup pot and grinned up at him. “Sure I do. I’m starving.” She put the pot on her stove, then went to the freezer to dig out the chicken stock she was so glad she had on hand.
She put the container in the microwave to defrost, then opened the refrigerator, also happy she’d gone to the grocery store yesterday.
“What can I do to help?”
“How are you with a knife?”
He went to the sink and rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands. “Expert.”
“Good.” She laid celery and carrots on the cutting board. “Start slicing.”
While he got busy with that, she tossed the chicken in the stock, added a little garlic and ginger and a few more spices. Soon the soup was bubbly and thick and she put a loaf of bread in the oven to heat up, then added the carrots and celery Wyatt had sliced.
She had a few minutes to rest while the soup simmered and the bread cooked, so she refilled her coffee. Wyatt was sitting at her table, one she’d found at a garage sale.
“You rent this house?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I’m a homeowner.”
He arched a brow. “Really. This and the day care center.”
“Well, this place is tiny. Only a one-bedroom. But it’s a house and it’s what I wanted when I moved here.”
“Why not an apartment? I mean, you’re young and single. I would think a condo or apartment would suit you better.”
“That’s just pissing money away every month.”
He laughed. “A lot of young people do that.”
She took a sip of coffee. “You make it sound like I’m sixteen and you’re my dad. I’m twenty-six and I wanted the investment. I bought this little cracker box of a house because it was all I could afford. When my grandmother died and left half her money to me, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it—invest it in the day care center.
“But I also wanted a house. I didn’t want to throw money away every month on an apartment. I found this place. It was so small, but what else did I need? I’m single, have no kids, no husband, no boyfriend. So as an initial investment it was perfect.”
He was staring at her with that unfathomable expression on his face that told her nothing of what he was thinking.
“What?”
“You surprise me.”
She turned to stir the soup. “Yeah? In what way?”
“I always think of you as being a kid. But you’re not. You’re all grown-up.”
“I’ve been a grown-up for a long time now, Wyatt. Maybe it’s past time you realized that.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
She felt his gaze on her, but didn’t turn around. He could just simmer on what she’d said.
The soup and bread were ready, so she served it up and they ate, drank, and what was most surprising of all—they actually talked.
Wyatt told her about the progress on the room addition at the center, as well as other ongoing projects their construction company had going. She could tell he really loved his family business, even though his brothers seemed to irritate him.
“I understand familial relationships,” she said as they moved from the kitchen to her living room after they finished eating. She had poured them a snifter of her favorite winter naughty indulgence—brandy. Maybe she could get him drunk and take advantage of him. “Families can test you under the best circumstances, but underneath I know you love your brothers.”
He nodded and swirled the brandy around the glass. “They try my patience—I’m sure on purpose at least half the time. Brody likes to tease and Ethan eggs him on. The two of them gang up on me.”
“Most likely to irritate you on purpose because you’re so naturally cranky.”
