Chapter Three
The next day, Tom hurried up the walk to his house.
Penny Gutherie waited for him by the front door.
Married to the town football coach, Penny was a cracker jack at interior design, and he needed her help for Summer’s Christmas present.
Two weeks to Christmas and it was a bit late to be tackling this, but he’d run out of ideas and time.
“Hi, Tom!” Penny’s infectious grin took the stress right out of his posture. The woman was in her mid-fifties with gray beginning to take over her hair. Dressed in jeans and a heavy blue jacket, she stuffed her gloves in her pockets. “Summer joining us?”
Tom mounted the steps and held out a hand. “Hi, Penny. Thanks for coming, and no, she’s not. It’s a Christmas surprise.” He unlocked the front door and let her enter ahead of him.
Summer’s grandparents had a long history living in Echo Falls, and the home was still referred to by some as the LeFey house. Tom had helped Walter care for the place after he’d moved to the retirement home, and the property had been passed to both him and Summer on a will stipulation.
The house still carried Walter’s presence – solid oak floors, narrow hallways, the faint scent of turpentine that clung to old canvas.
But Tom’s touch had softened the edges. Warm lamplight, antique furniture restored by his own hands, and the quiet hum of a life built together turned the old place into something better than either of them had imagined.
He paused in the doorway, thinking how every scuff and shadow in the old place told a story – and how ready he was to give Summer space to write her own.
He ushered Penny up the stairs. “Since we inherited this house from her grandfather, Summer’s been trying to use her grandmother’s sewing room for her painting studio. It’s never been redesigned to meet her needs.”
Penny gave him the look of all women everywhere when you messed with important stuff. “Does Summer know you’re planning a remake of her workspace?”
Uncomfortable, Tom stopped to turn the hall light on. “Not yet. I wanted to get some ideas from you on paper to give her for Christmas.” Tom blushed and turned away. “You’re sworn to secrecy about whatever painting is on her easel not finished.”
Penny silently zipped her lips. “I’m thrilled you asked me.”
“We won’t do anything until Summer approves every idea.”
“Honestly, it’s the best way to do this. Remakes rarely work out when all parties don’t have a say.” She walked into the room. No paintings out, but the place was a mess of drawing pads, pencils, pastels, and paint across every surface.
Penny did a slow turn in the middle of the room. “Yes, she needs some spatial organization, doesn’t she?”
“She’s pretty free range when she’s painting, but some of this hasn’t been cleaned out from her grandmother and some doesn’t have a place to be.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’ve watched her paint. Normally, she goes into a zone, but lately the layout and clutter is interfering. She has a studio in San Francisco, too. I have pictures of it. It’s a bit better with flow.”
Since she’d made the commitment to stay home for an extended period instead of traveling to do corporate murals, this was a critical thing he could gift her to smooth the path.
He did his own turn to size up the space.
“We’ve never sorted out prime placement for her painting area.
She adjusts based on lighting, but she also needs a good setup for her art supplies.
Plus, she needs shelves. She needs storage and may want new décor.
I’ll leave that to you to present some ideas. ”
“Do you mind if I take some pictures and measurements?”
“Not at all. How can I help?”
“Stand in the doorway and let me assess. It’s how I get my ideas. This is a wonderful house. Good bones, and check the view out these windows. I understand why she chose this room.”
“Yeah, she’s painted in here since she was a little girl.”
“We may be stepping on sacred memories, but I’ll see what I can reimagine.”
Thirty minutes later, the idea was launched. Penny left with numerous notes that made Tom hope he wasn’t overstepping his wife’s space.
Only way to know was to offer and back off if she hated it.
“Tom, are you here?”
Summer’s voice jerked him out of his thoughts. Quietly leaving her work room, he made his way down the stairs, hoping Penny’s vehicle was already gone. Summer stood at the bottom gazing at him with confusion.
“What are you doing home?”
“Changing socks. They were rubbing in my boot.”
“Can’t have that.” She went on tiptoe to kiss him when he got to the bottom.
“How was your latest session at the library? Did you find what Adelina told you to search for?”
“Absorbing, and yes. Found a few things of interest. Found Santa yet?”
Tom boxed in his frustration and stifled a growl. “No.”
She followed him to the kitchen, and he poured a glass of orange juice, offering her some.
She shook her head. “Coffee, please. I’m cold.” Leaning against the counter, she studied his face while he found a cup and poured from the half empty pot. “It’s nice to be home so I can see you when you drop in.”
“Not a regular habit, but I have more reason now.” He tried to always be honest with himself even if he never uttered the sentiment – but he was ecstatic she was home and he could stop for a minute with her.
Bret did it all the time with Meg. Matt did with Trina, too. He had no need for the envy anymore.
“Good to know.” Summer’s little smile stirred a deep sizzle to private parts that needed no encouragement.
As sergeant, he made it a point to always put in the paid time, but in half an inhale of her sweet scent, he faced temptation in all its glory. Thirty minutes, maybe twenty. Could they? Nope, not enough time. He swallowed the rest of the juice, rinsed the cup, and put it in the dishwasher.
“Going back to work?” She unzipped her coat and shrugged out of it, laying it over a chair.
“Yeah, have to.” The need to take her upstairs warred with work habits.
“You’re not a normal man.” She bit her lip and dropped her gaze to her coffee.
Tom leaned back against the kitchen sink and crossed his arms in front of him to keep from pulling her close. “Define normal.”
“You pick up after yourself, get places on time without me reminding you, do your own laundry, never nag.”
“Nag?” He stepped forward to sweep her hair back from her face.
Her eyes widened, the green of the iris reflecting deep pools of surprise. She stepped closer.
When the warmth of her landed against him, he admitted it. He was a guy. He eyed the fitted red Henley and the deep cleavage there and lost a step in the battle.
Summer’s quiet voice broke the spell. “Look at you? You put your glass in the dishwasher, your breakfast dishes are there, too, and you were out the door forty minutes early.”
“Is there a problem here?” He lifted her chin and ran a thumb over her lower lip. “Trying to be a good husband. I don’t expect you to do all the cleaning.”
“I get lost in my painting.” She laced her fingers with his.
He smiled, focusing on what she didn’t say. “I watch you get lost.”
“Yes, it used to break my concentration, but now, it doesn’t. What does that say?” Utterly confused, she pouted.
Tom kissed her forehead, hoping to reassure her with a casual act that should signal acceptance. “You love me. You like me in your space.”
She took several more gulps of coffee, then dumped her cup and followed his example, rinse, dishwasher, done.
He pulled her closer again, his mouth cruising her ear. “Thanks for dinner last night.”
“It was leftovers.”
“It was so good. I hope you and Adelina had a good conversation.”
“We did and everyone enjoyed your singing.”
“Even you?”
“Yes, but I could have done without singing with you.”
“My favorite part.” He kissed her and lingered in the softness of her lips, then slipped his tongue into her mouth. Deep, yet gentle. One intended to transmit love and care. She kissed him back, following his lead. Must do more of this. They needed the attention, him to her and her to him.
She pulled away first, shaking her finger under his nose. “Go to work. We have no time for what you’re thinking, and quickies aren’t working for us lately.”
He sighed and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling, keeping his hands on her because he could. “Damn job.”
She stepped away, and he let her go. One, because she was right.
And two, because if he didn’t, he’d haul her upstairs.
He could not even imagine explaining to the chief why his patrol vehicle was parked at home for an extended period.
Getting waylaid by sex while on duty wasn’t something he ever contemplated saying to the man.
“Damn job,” he repeated, regret for not having the freedom to seize the moment pierced him.
She crossed to the sink and took a sponge to wipe the counter where the juice had been. “You don’t mean that, and I have stuff to do. I want to create a spectacular tree this year that will knock Mrs. Patch off her porch, and I have actual work to tend to. Get out.”
“Mean, Summer Girl. Just mean.” He kissed her again, lightly this time. “Painting today?” He grabbed his police jacket on the hook by the back door.
She shook her head. “No, drawing for a while. Got a few ideas I want to get sketched. I have a phone call scheduled with Jonathan soon, too. Plus, more library time reading town history.”
He leaned in to kiss her. “Stay warm. Weather changing.”
“This place can never decide whether it wants to warm up or chill down this time of year. I’ll dig out a sweatshirt for under my jacket.” She tossed the sponge back in the sink, dried her hands, and took his arm to walk him to the door.
“Go soon to Slade’s. This close to Christmas, everyone will be buying.” He grabbed his keys from the hook. “Bye, love you.”
“Love you, too.” Her expression sent a shiver of awareness through him and didn’t make it any easier to walk away.