Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
PIPER
I stood at the kitchen sink in the house that I half owned, staring out at the gigantic backyard that my kids would probably never play in.
The boys were with a friend from Alec’s class, whose mom had been so generous as to offer to watch the two of them when I explained that I wanted to take a closer look at the house.
I thought she might be angling to get the first scoop on the town’s hottest gossip (me, Rhett, and the house), but I appreciated the offer nonetheless.
It was a rare moment of stillness for me.
It felt like ever since Jacob and I had decided to divorce, I’d been out in the open ocean with no sight of land in any direction.
I had to fight to keep the boys on even keel, fight to keep myself from capsizing completely.
I was always rushing around to keep all of us fed, clothed, and sane.
But right now, for a moment, I stood at the sink and mourned what could have been.
In another universe, maybe I would’ve fought for the house and won.
Maybe I would’ve been able to take out a mortgage on it to pay the tax and repairs, and I could’ve set down roots in this town.
Real roots, the kind that stood the test of time.
The kind that clung to a mountainside and withstood harsh winter wind and feet of powdery snow.
As always, I’d been half a step behind, though, and I’d been too scared to walk into yet another courtroom facing a man with more money, connections, and resources than I could ever hope to have.
So I had to settle for a quiet moment of what-could-have-beens, inhaling the musty, closed air of a house that would never be my home.
Gratitude was hard to find, even though I knew I should try. I’d won half a house. Even after all was said and done, I would be farther ahead than if I hadn’t won it.
The metal of the big chrome sink was cool against my hands, and I let them run all the way to the edge of the laminate countertop. My nails made a hollow sound when I drummed them against the surface, and I worried at the peeling edge where water had ruined the counter.
It wasn’t a perfect house—not by a long shot—but there was something about it that was romantic.
I loved it more than I wanted to admit. Under the stairs, there was an adorable little cubbyhole that the boys would’ve loved to transform into a fortress.
There was a silly nook in the powder room, where two walls didn’t quite join at the right angle.
I’d put a piece of art there, something to make guests laugh.
The porch creaked. The yard was overgrown.
And the front door squealed like a stuck pig when it opened.
I turned, heart leaping, crossing the creaking floorboards so I could look down the long, narrow hallway to the foyer.
His back was to me, broad shoulders blocking out most of the light from the street outside, but I knew that messy, tousled black hair anywhere. Rhett closed and locked the door, then turned—and looked at me.
“You’re here,” he said.
For some reason, my heart began to thump. “I’m here,” I replied, and since we were stating the obvious, I added, “So are you.”
The house creaked and squeaked around him as he stepped down the hallway, shadows from the wall sconces dancing as he made his way toward me. He ducked his head to pass through the low door into the kitchen and came to a stop just a couple of feet away from me.
Every time we were apart, I forgot just how big he was. He loomed over me, all brawn and good looks, those dark eyes scanning over me like he could read my secrets written in every line of my body. I crossed my arms and hugged myself, turning my gaze away.
I sensed the moment his eyes moved off me. It felt like a cloud passing over the sun. He stepped deeper into the kitchen and crossed toward the fridge, putting more space between us.
“I saw your ideas for the seating arrangements in the lodge,” he said, referring to an email I’d sent him at the end of the workday.
“The previous designer hadn’t considered everyone wearing snowsuits and ski gear,” I said, feeling slightly defensive.
“On paper, it looks like I’ve removed some seating, but it’s actually more efficient to add the banquettes.
At least half the seats would’ve been unusable with the previous design.
Besides, the upholstery will be simpler this way, which will help Eric Nash finish everything on time. ”
“I know,” he replied, leaning against the counter. “It was good thinking.”
I gulped. “Oh.”
“Not to mention the good PR of supporting local businesses.”
So he’d noticed that too. I dipped my chin.
His eyes looked black in this light, and even with him at the opposite side of the kitchen, it felt too close.
My gaze slid away, and I considered the wallpaper border lining the tops of the walls all around the room.
Lemons and leaves danced between green borders.
The wallpaper was faded and off-color now, but it must have been bright and cheery when it was first installed.
If this place were mine, I would take that down—but I might paint the walls a soft yellow as a nod to the old owners.
The window was east-facing, and the kitchen would be flooded with light in the morning.
A very subtle yellow would feel homey and would lean into the warm tone of the cabinets.
I shook the thought away, not wanting to get dragged into fantasies that would only be harder to give up the longer I imagined them.
“I ran some numbers this afternoon,” Rhett said as he turned to open one of the upper cabinets beside the window.
He inspected the inside as I inspected him.
His jacket lifted with his movements, revealing his trim hips and well-worn jeans.
When he moved to jiggle the window latch, those jeans hugged a firm and powerful backside. Cheeks burning, I turned away.
I could not check out my boss’s butt. Not even when we co-owned a house. Definitely not when he was the most insufferable man I’d ever met.
Instead, my eyes drifted to the wall sconces in the hallway. Those I would keep. They were brass dulled with the patina of age, with silly little curlicues and pleated shades. Ridiculous, feminine, and pretty. “Numbers about what?” I asked in response to his comment.
“About this place.” His eyes were back on me. I could feel them like a physical touch all down my side.
My skin prickled into goosebumps, and I wrapped my cardigan tighter around me. “More bad news?”
“Not exactly.”
I turned to face him. “What do you mean? You don’t want to sell?”
“Oh, I want to sell,” he said, scoffing. “But we might be able to flip it.”
My heart dropped. “I’m not turning this place into a sad gray box.”
“Nobody said anything about a sad gray box.”
“You want to flip this place. You’ll probably put cheap laminate flooring down and rip all the soul out of it.”
He spread his hands. “Do you think so little of me?”
“No,” I said darkly. “My opinion of you is much worse.”
He laughed, the jerk. For a moment, I was caught by his beauty—and he was a beautiful man.
When he laughed like that—really laughed, not the polite chuckles I’d seen him dish out to anyone and everyone—it lit his face from within.
It softened the harsh, rough-hewn edges of him, made him seem like there might be parts of his personality that he’d kept hidden. Parts I’d like to know.
Then his laugh faded, and an amused, almost tender look flashed across his face. My guard went back up, and I cursed myself for being taken in by his charm, even temporarily. The man was a danger.
Gripping the counter with his hands near his hips, Rhett leaned back and shook his head. “I’m proposing we work together, Piper. You know, like we do at the office?”
“I do that because you pay me.”
“You’d be getting paid for this too, once we sell it. We’d split the profits.”
“So, what, I come up with the design, you do the work?”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
My eyes narrowed. “And the money—how would that work?” He had deeper pockets than I did. Would he try to box me out of most of the profits? He pretended like he was a good guy, but no one was as successful in business as Rhett Baldwin without being a shark behind boardroom doors.
“I’ll put up the cash for the upgrades,” Rhett said. “We’ll both put in the sweat equity, to make it fair. And we’ll split the profits, fifty-fifty.”
My heart began to thump. He was offering me a good deal.
A really good deal. He could easily ask for a bigger share of the profits, since he was the one with the money.
But splitting the profits down the middle—assuming we could get a good sale price—meant that I might actually have enough for a down payment on another place in town.
I might get my stability, after all.
Mind whirling, I tried to figure out his angle. He wouldn’t just give me that generous a deal out of the goodness of his heart…would he? I wasn’t convinced he actually had a heart—and if he did, I wasn’t convinced it was actually good.
“You’ve gone quiet,” he noted.
“I’m trying to figure out your angle.”
There was a short silence, and then Rhett sighed. “There’s no angle, Piper. I’m trying to come up with the best possible solution for both of us. We won a house. We should be happy about it, not fighting over it.”
Disquiet rippled through me; his words were an echo of my own thoughts from earlier, when I’d been alone. I nodded, then dipped my head toward the hallway. “Should we do a walkthrough, figure out what we want to do with the place?”
Rhett pushed himself off the counter, and once again he seemed to loom over me.
He was big and broad and strong, and I couldn’t quite help the shiver of nervousness and excitement his size sent through me.
Turning on my heels, I marched down the hallway to the front door, one ear listening to the echo of his footsteps behind me.