Chapter Seven
On Monday morning, Claire woke up with the sun. After showering, dressing and wolfing down a mug of coffee, she headed over to Haven. She managed to get there before seven. Although accustomed to starting her days early, for the most part, today she just wanted to get there before Nick did.
This was the day he was supposed to take over her office space to work on her soggy walls.
Considering that the crew would have to put up some new drywall, she knew she wouldn’t have her office sanctum for long and wanted to bask in peace and quiet before everything got covered in drywall dust. Although she had cleared out the office over the weekend, she still had a few items to retrieve.
She still wasn’t sure where she would do her administrative work.
All the other rooms had been commandeered, and she didn’t really want to work from the house.
She preferred being onsite. She had an open house to plan and there was so much to do in preparation—everything from cleaning to social media.
Breathe. It’s okay. You’ll figure something out.
She’d been having moments of bad nerves ever since Mia had mentioned the Handymen appearance. Even though the crew had been nothing but courteous and professional for the past week, Claire still bristled every so often. Especially when Lacey reminded her she was on camera.
It was all positive, but she’d never found it easy dealing with change. She had definite comfort zones, and rarely ventured out of them these days. After Arthur had died, she’d sought refuge in her routines.
Lately, all her routines had been tossed out of the window.
Suddenly, three hunky brothers and their colleagues had forced her to create new practices. Although she was mostly grateful for the help, she couldn’t help resenting the upheaval just a teensy bit.
The Handymen team had been so good, showing her blueprints and explaining each step in the renovations.
She appreciated the time they took with her, especially because she’d always liked having a plan.
From the time she was a little girl, she’d liked having all her ducks in a row. Or cats, in this case.
Unfortunately, Claire sometimes had difficulty believing her plans would succeed.
After all, most of them had been whipped out from under her.
Strange worries kept her up at night. What if the Zorns did a crappy job?
She’d heard of reality TV renovation disasters.
However, everything she’d seen so far had shown her the Zorn brothers were the real deal.
Over the past few years, she’d grown accustomed to expecting disaster. She hated that about herself. Curveballs made her nervous, and no matter how often she reminded herself she’d already been hit with the hardest curveball ever, it didn’t erase the nerves.
You’re a survivor, and you’ll survive a few renovations.
If only she could figure out what Nick was doing in her back yard. True to his word, he’d hung a tarp over her window before heading out to her place on Friday, and now her view was of paint-stained fabric.
Relax. Nick’s just trying to do something nice for you, while keeping it a surprise.
Nick.
He’d been full of surprises already.
He’d be here soon, with his windswept tawny hair and hot body, ready to annex her office.
She hadn’t been able to get him off her mind all weekend. He’d given her his contact details, as had Michael, Eli and Lacey. Claire had had half a mind to text Nick, fabricating some sort of drywall-related question.
Of course, she hadn’t. That would have been sad.
She just couldn’t shake the image of him working away on her dresser, taking such care. Acting as if it wasn’t odd at all that she would have left that pile of planks sitting there on her bedroom floor for three years.
What happened to me?
“It doesn’t matter,” she said aloud. “What matters is what you do from here on in.”
“Great advice.”
Claire jumped and turned around. Nick stood at her office entrance, leaning on the doorjamb.
His lips curled up on his right side, in a sexy half smile.
Wearing another pair of perfectly fitting jeans, work boots and a faded gray Henley that had seen better days, he looked like the very best in contractor porn. “Nick. Hi. You’re early.”
“Big day today. Office reno. Figured I should get an early start.” He turned around and retrieved something from the table in the hallway.
He joined her inside the office, carrying two large coffees on a takeout tray.
“I hope you don’t mind. I know you like coffee.
It’s black, but there’s cream and sugar in the bag.
It should still be hot. I got it at the place down the road. ”
“Thanks.” She didn’t bother to mention that she’d already had one. Frankly, the extra caffeine was a godsend, and it was sweet of him to remember.
Was it at all possible he had thought of her this past weekend, just as she’d thought of him? She’d obviously entered his mind this morning as he grabbed his coffee.
Don’t be dumb. A man like Nick had to have a woman in his life, if not several. He was just being nice.
“So,” he said, grinning, taking a quick sip from his cup. “Have you christened it yet?”
“Pardon?”
“The dresser. Did you put anything in it?”
“Oh, right. Yeah, actually. My socks are now sitting comfortably in the third drawer.”
“Very good. Important question, though. Are the coffee lady socks in there yet?”
Claire smiled. Why did it feel so easy to smile around him? “Once they get out of the dryer, they will take their rightful place as well.”
“Nice. Frankly, I’m just happy the dresser’s still standing.”
“That thing was assembled by one of the famous Handymen. It wouldn’t dare fall down.” Claire used the backs of her fingers to lightly slap his biceps.
Whoa. His arm was solid. So solid she wanted to run her fingers over the bulge there. Would his muscle contract with tension upon feeling her touch?
The back of her throat became dry, her tongue sandpapery. She sipped her coffee, but the strange sensation remained.
What the heck? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t met cute men since Arthur had passed. Her head had been turned a couple of times.
Why did this one make her react this way?
Claire made a mental note to put new batteries in her vibrator. Something told her she would need it most nights.
“Is it too hot in here?” asked Nick. “Your, um, cheeks are pink. I could have a look at the thermostat, if you’d like.”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She set her coffee down on her desk. “Did you want to start tackling something?”
His amber eyes brightened and he chuckled quietly to himself. “Maybe we should wait for Lacey and the camera crew.”
“Of course.” An idea occurred to Claire, one that would hopefully stop all the little sparks between them from shooting. “Hey. Want to help me feed the cats? We can say hi to your friend, Mortimer.”
“Ah. The Manager. Why do I get the sense that guy’s getting ready to issue me a letter of warning?”
“It’ll be okay. I’ll protect you.” Meaning only to encourage Nick, Claire patted his forearm.
He tensed, just as she’d imagined. As she pulled her hand away, she dragged her fingertips over his skin. Although not a bodybuilder, Nick had a dreamy physique. Even his forearms had strong muscles.
She really needed to stop touching him.
He glanced at her hand, then at her, a question in his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve always been a bit touchy-feely. It runs in my family, I’m afraid, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have assumed I could touch you. I’m just trying to be friendly.” Right, friendly. Okay, sister.
“Claire, it’s okay. You touching me is, well, it’s not a problem. Like, at all.”
This time, he was the one with the pink cheeks, and they were incredibly charming. The amber in his eyes darkened, warming to golden brown. His gaze settled on her mouth, unsettling her completely.
“Uh…Mortimer?”
“Okay.” He let out a puff of air, as if trying to erase any hint of sensuality on his face. Of course, it didn’t work. With those cheekbones and those eyes, he couldn’t look anything less than sensual. “Time to make friends with Mortimer.”
* * * *
What the hell am I doing?
As Claire led Nick toward the cat B&B, he had to take a few bracing breaths. Not because he was scared of Mortimer, although frankly he was a little scared of Mortimer. It was mostly because his conversation with Claire had excited him in a way nothing had for a long time.
When her cheeks had reddened and she’d stumbled on her words, he’d wanted to drag her into his arms. And when she’d touched his biceps with that sweet look of hunger on her face, he’d almost lost it right there.
Something was happening here. Like wildfire, it nipped at his heels, scorching his skin. And he wasn’t sure he had the ability or the desire to try to extinguish it.
Even now, as she walked ahead of him, he could barely breathe for all the pressure on his chest. Why did she have to look so cute all the time?
Her hair was up in its customary bun, with the odd strand falling around her face.
He was dying to get his fingers in those soft strands.
She wore another pair of ass-hugging jeans, so hot he almost got whiplash every time she walked by.
Every day, she wore a different T-shirt with a slogan.
By the second or third day on the job, he’d realized he looked forward to seeing what shirt she’d have on the next day.
This time, her tee had a seventies vibe with a sparkly rainbow. It said, Spread a little sunshine.
He wanted to spread something, all right.
Shit. Why was he doing this?
It was not a good idea to think about getting Claire into a bed, removing her clothes and teasing those gorgeous legs apart. Not a good idea at all.