Chapter Two
B ear didn’t know what to do with himself as Josie drove away.
He felt—things—and he didn’t like it. She’d stirred him up, unsettling his resolve to never feel anything again. He hated feelings. He hated emotional turmoil. Emotions were the one thing he couldn’t handle. Emotions were within, and that was where he was weak.
In the hall, Bear pushed himself in a circle to the right, and then to the left, angry and restless and trapped. Trapped.
It was bad enough being stuck in this chair, but stuck in this house, the house he’d built for Savannah? It was torture, and because this land was family land, passed to him from his maternal grandfather, Bear was loathe to just sell the place. The house was a prison, but the land meant something to him.
Why hadn’t he realized he’d be unhappy here? This enormous house reminded him of a stage set—cold and artificial, and empty. All it did was remind him of how empty his life was and how hollow everything had been for years, and he hadn’t even known it. He hadn’t realized that nothing in his life had truly been real. Not his strength. Not his career. Not his relationship.
Certainly not his faith.
Bear stopped circling the hall and rolled into the living room with the soaring ceiling and majestic stone fireplace. He went to the wall of windows and stared out across the land that was his, land that he hadn’t ever worked, land that was leased to neighbors for their cattle and crops.
His plan had always been to retire and come here to become a rancher just like his grandfather, but it hadn’t turned out like that.
He was doing his best to pivot, to focus on his new goals, but living here didn’t help. He was far from everything, and nowhere close to the business districts he needed. And if he poured money into renovating this house, it would mean less cash for his new venture, and his venture was his only blue sky. His new venture gave him hope. Purpose. That was what he needed, not a fancy toilet.
Maybe the mistake was to focus on the house. Maybe he just needed to double down on establishing the rehab centers and put on blinders to everything else. The bathroom was difficult, but he managed. The kitchen was a challenge, but he was good with challenges. He just needed to get the right attitude. He needed to prioritize what was important and his comfort wasn’t important. Getting the first center opened was the important thing.
Bear rolled back to the entry where Josie had left her business card. In the foyer he drew his phone out of the small pack attached to the chair behind his knees and drew out his phone. He flipped the business card in his fingers, his thumb stroking the matte finish of the thick cream cardstock with the gray-blue ink. Josie Calhoun, Design Intern .
Intern.
He shook his head and he exhaled, releasing the bottled air, glad to have come to a decision he could live with.
Quickly he texted her. Josie, this is Bear Anderson. Thanks for coming out to my place, and I appreciate your input but I’m going a different direction. Sorry to have wasted your time today.
*
“Well?” Neil asked, gesturing Josie into his office as she returned to the company’s headquarters in downtown Bozeman. The design practice took up the top two floors of one of the oldest buildings in historic Bozeman. Bookkeeping and support were on the lower floor while the design team had the airy and architectural loft. “How did it go?”
Josie nodded and smiled at Melissa, the other cofounder of the firm who currently sat perched on the edge of a sixties inspired chair, a handful of brochures in her hand.
“I did a brief walk through with him and took notes on what needed to be done.”
“What’s his budget?” Melissa asked.
Josie lifted a shoulder. “We didn’t get that far.”
Melissa frowned. “What does he want done?”
“He needs a bathroom and a kitchen that works for him. I think the kitchen can be modified fairly easily. The bathroom might require tearing down a wall and shifting plumbing.”
“How is he getting upstairs to his bedroom?” Neil leaned forward and drew a printed layout of the Anderson house toward him. “All bedrooms are upstairs.”
“He’s using the downstairs bedroom.”
“There is no downstairs bedroom. Just his office which was really a trophy room.”
“I didn’t see any trophies.” Josie approached the desk and leaned over the condensed blueprint of the house. She studied it a moment and then tapped the bedroom with the adjoining bath. “He’s sleeping here.”
“That was originally his office,” Melissa said, leaning over to get a better look at the blueprint, too.
“There wasn’t a desk or shelves or trophies,” Josie answered. “Just a bed and a nightstand.”
“No shelves or cabinets?” Neil persisted.
She shook her head, remembering the plain stark walls. “Nothing.”
Neil opened his laptop and typed away and then turned his computer around so Melissa and Josie could see the screen. “This is how that room used to look. It was his favorite room.”
Melissa’s lips pursed. “I don’t think it was his favorite room, but it was his mom’s favorite. Or he’d dedicated his wins and success to his mom. Something like that. She’d always been so proud of him, and so he put together the trophy case in her memory and framed some of the articles written about him. I was there one day when the Rocky Mountain Design Magazine was doing the feature on his property and the writer was asking Braden about the trophies. I distinctly recall Braden being embarrassed, saying he didn’t want to be photographed in that room. In fact, he preferred the room not being included in the magazine feature.”
“So, they didn’t include it?” Josie asked.
Neil grimaced. “Oh, they did, when the photographer returned to the house for a few shots that the editors still wanted.”
“The trophy room photo went into the magazine?” Josie guessed.
“Yes,” Neil and Melissa said simultaneously.
“Braden was livid.” Melissa glanced at Neil. “I think he’s been angry with us ever since then.”
“But you couldn’t control what the magazine did,” Josie protested.
“No. Well, maybe.” Neil hesitated. “The fact is, we didn’t ask the magazine not to include the trophy room. In hindsight, we probably could have ensured that they didn’t. But we didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”
“No one thought Braden would be hurt,” Melissa added quickly, almost defensively. “And it was gorgeous. The most beautiful cabinetry you’ve ever seen.”
Josie just remembered the room as it looked now. Empty, terribly empty, no beautiful cabinetry, no art, nothing decorative anywhere. “I wonder what he did with his trophies and awards.”
Neil shrugged. “Maybe he had them moved to a room upstairs.”
“Or put in storage,” Melissa added. “I can’t imagine he would want to sleep in a room filled with reminders of the past.”
“True,” Josie agreed, before saying goodbye and leaving the office to walk the three short blocks to her studio apartment on the second floor of another old building downtown. Downstairs was a popular restaurant, which meant that it was often noisy, but the staff was friendly and the bartenders protective and kept an eye out for her, especially in the evenings and weekends. She waved at Josh, one of the afternoon waiters who was working the sidewalk tables.
He nodded and then one of the other waiters, Aiden, whistled to get her attention. “Come in, Josie. Have a drink.”
She shook her head and smiled. “I’ve got so much work to do. Maybe this weekend.”
“Or a date this weekend?” Aiden answered, lifting a brow, flashing white teeth and a deep dimple in his cheek.
He was good-looking and close to her age, a student at the university, and full of charm. The girls loved him. He knew it, too.
Josie laughed and shook her head. “Not looking to get my heart broken, Aiden, but thank you.”
“I’d never break your heart,” Aiden vowed, a hand to his chest.
Josie laughed again and, still shaking her head, disappeared through the door to the upstairs apartments. Aiden was gorgeous but young, way too young, and she wasn’t looking for a relationship anyway. She was enrolled full-time at the college and working full-time, which meant there was no time for a social life. Besides, she was too serious for most guys she’d met in Bozeman. They wanted to hang out and have fun and she was trying to change the world, make it a better place for everyone. Which was why Josie had always been that odd Calhoun girl with the weird purple eyes and even weirder family.
The labels didn’t bother her anymore. She was who she was, and it didn’t matter if she didn’t fit in. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to fit in but do something important, and if that was the case, then she was doing just fine.
Josie sat down on her thrift store loveseat which she’d recovered herself and pulled her laptop from her bag, preparing to jump on her homework when she spotted a text in Messages on her computer.
Josie, this is Bear Anderson. Thanks for coming out to my place, and I appreciate your input but I’m going a different direction. Sorry to have wasted your time today.
Josie sighed, not entirely surprised by his decision, but disappointed nonetheless. She’d wanted to work with him—not just because Bear needed help—but she’d been excited by the project, one which would have fulfilled the requirements for her program.
She was getting so close to being out of school and finally being able to pursue the jobs that interested her, rather than the ones Neil and Melissa assigned her.
But she’d made it this far. She’d find a way to fulfill her program requirements without Bear. She just needed to focus and spread the word. Perhaps it was time to reach out to some of the senior homes in Park County and see if any of them were open to her donating her services… if they could pay for the materials.
Josie put away her phone without rereading Bear’s message, but it stayed with her, and it gave her a prickly feeling in her middle. Excitement and nerves and a tingly awareness that couldn’t possibly be attraction.
She’d only just met him, too. Worse, she hadn’t been attracted to anyone in years. What was it about him?
It couldn’t be his beautiful face. Or those massive shoulders. Or the tan muscular forearms.
No, she wasn’t that shallow.
Her attraction went deeper. She was drawn to something internal, a toughness that came with battle scars. She shouldn’t be drawn to scars—real or imaginary—but Josie didn’t always do the expected thing. She had a long history of doing what everyone thought she shouldn’t do.
Maybe Bear going a different direction with his house was a blessing in disguise. But first—before she moved on—there was something she had to do. Whether he liked it or not.
She called her brother Rye, hoping he’d be free to pick up, and he did.
“What’s up, Jo?” he asked, answering.
“Rye, I need a favor, and it’s a big one.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“No. No, it’s a work thing, and I’m trying to pull off a miracle, and you’re the only one who can make it happen.”
“I’m not particularly good with miracles, Josie, especially this time of year. I’m slammed.”
“I know. And I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need you.”
“Can it wait a couple weeks?”
“No.”
“Josie, this is when I make my money.”
“I know, but it’s important, Rye. Trust me.”
“I do trust you, but I’ve promised the Gradys we’d be finished with their kitchen by the weekend.”
“Haven’t they changed their mind on the layout three times? Different stone, different stove, different windows? And didn’t they expect you to absorb the cost for the mistake she made with the stone?”
Rye exhaled on a growl. “So, what’s the emergency? Did you break something?”
“No, but you will be. I need you to widen a door. Fortunately, it’s an interior door and I was hoping you could swap the interior door for one that’s wider.”
Rye sighed. “So where am I going?”
“Clyde Park. A property off Brackett Creek Road.”
“Are you being deliberately vague?”
“You’re going to Braden Anderson’s home. I need you to widen his bathroom door. And replace his ramp with something more custom. If you can.”
“I thought your firm was fired.”
“They were, yes, but if you saw his ramp—its shiny metal, and it’s an eyesore, and it looks institutional.”
Rye remained silent and Josie’s pulse quickened, fueled by determination. “Nothing works for him, Rye. He can’t use his kitchen. He struggles to use his bathroom. He’s all boxed in. And I’m not asking you to fix all of that. Just give him a bigger bathroom door and I’ll feel better. He will, too.”
“You’ve met him?”
“I have. Today. And he’s… struggling. I wouldn’t call him angry, but he’s frustrated and when you see what he’s dealing with, you’ll understand why. I think having a slightly more functional bathroom would make him feel better. And replacing the metal ramp with something else—”
“The ramp is going to have to wait, sis. I can go and measure the bathroom and make some calls and see if Paradise Lumber has something in stock, and if they do, I can get this done tomorrow. But the ramp will be later, once we’ve caught up on my contracted jobs.”
“That’s great. I’ll call Paradise Lumber and see if they have anything that would work.”
“Let me know what you find out.”
“I will.”