At Wild Rose Cottage (23 page)

Alaina grinned. “To be frank, you always went for the big play. It wasn't just because of that slinky redhead.”

True, but the reason hadn't always been dedication to the game. He'd liked the cheering and how the sportscasters would applaud him for going all out, whether the team was winning or losing. No matter how or when his career had ended, he would have had trouble adjusting.

It had taken someone who'd never cared if he was a star in the first place to show him there was something better. Because Alaina didn't give a flip for his former fame, his injuries hadn't changed her expectations of what he could accomplish. Now she wanted to see if he was still a man she could love and he was eager to work on it with her.

* * *

T
RENT
BROUGHT
IN
three additional crews the following Monday—one to build the decks in the back and restore the porch, another to finish the roof and paint the outside of the house and the third to finish repairs on the storm cellar.

Caveman and the others grumbled about it all week, saying it was their job. But they kept quiet around Emily, who was excited to see everything coming together.

By midmorning on Friday the exterior work was completed. Emily went outside with Trent to survey the results.

“It no longer looks like a set out of a horror movie,” she exclaimed. “And it will look even better when the surrounding jungle is under better control.” Her nose wrinkled. “I haven't dared check whether the wild roses or honeysuckle survived.”

“Some did,” he said, “although it may take a while for them to look their best. I'm not sure whether they're native species, but one of my guys is good at preserving plantings, so I put him on it.”

Trent followed as she walked to the backyard by way of the new gate. She surveyed the rose pergola that had been erected, set far enough from the house that the walls could be kept free of the brambles.

“That looks great,” she exclaimed, giving him a fast hug and bouncing away before he could react—the imprint of her body lingered.

The construction crew had cut paths and trampled down the growth nearest the house and they went around to the patio, now enlarged to include decks with multiple levels, one with a sheltered hot tub, and another with the new outdoor kitchen.

“It's fabulous,” she said simply. “Thanks, Trent.”

“You're welcome. I shou—”

“Yoo-hoo,” a voice interrupted. “Is anyone home?”

It was his mom, though he had to remind himself to call her that in his head. But she deserved it and that's who she really was.

They walked around to the front of the house and found half of the McGregor and Nelson clan had pulled up in various trucks and SUVs.

“Hey, what's this about?” he asked.

“Alaina said the work out here would be done this morning, so we came over to give Emily a jump start on taming the jungle.”

Emily stared. “That's awful nice,” she said, “but you really shouldn't... It's too much.”

Sarah put her arm around Emily's shoulders. “Don't be silly. Trent has told us how wonderful you've been about everything. We want to show our gratitude.”

“Besides,” Parker added, “how else can we have a barbecue in your yard tonight?” He turned and looked at Trent. “Hope you don't mind us horning in, but once the idea got started, it charged through the family the way a stampede clears everything in front of it.”

“You guys are amazing,” Emily said, choking up.

“Nah, we're just stubborn, EmGee,” Morgan declared. With Stella Luna being boarded at the Crazy Horse, Emily had gotten to know Trent's niece quite well, though the nickname, EmGee, had actually been devised by her younger sister, who loved to make up new words.

Jackson took over directing family members to various locations around the yard, leaving Trent with Emily.

“I know you have ideas for landscaping the place,” he said, “but I doubt they'll do anything that interferes. They just want to show their appreciation.”

Emily's smile peeked out through her tears.

“You don't realize what they're doing, do you?” she asked. “There are a dozen ways to tell someone ‘thank you,' but they came to show that you're no longer alone with all the horrible things that happened here. Your family is saying they love you.”

Warmth flooded him. It was true; he just hadn't seen it immediately.

Emily sniffed. “I'm a sentimental dope. Tell the crew inside I'm sorry I can't do anything right now, but I'll be working on the yard today.”

Again, before he knew quite how to react, she dashed away.

* * *

E
MILY
DOVE
INTO
trimming bushes, not wanting to get overly emotional. The McGregors were the nicest people. She knew they had oil money, but despite their wealth, they worked hard and seemed to enjoy doing it.

When she tried to order something for lunch, Sarah stopped her. “We're all set. We've got coolers filled with cold drinks, and boxes of food to munch.”

“Grandpa Parker also brought a gas grill on the truck,” DeeDee told her. “Trent said you have one in your outdoor kitchen, but Grandpa thought we'd need extra cook space for such a big crowd.”

With that, Parker fired up the grills and began cooking hamburgers and hot dogs for the family and Big Sky crew alike.

“Sure missed you inside today, Em,” Caveman told her as he ate his third burger, loaded with two thick patties.

“Big-time,” the other members of the crew affirmed.

Trent stayed silent and Emily swallowed her disappointment. What did she expect, protestations of undying devotion?

Friendship without romance
was
possible—Nicole was chums with a male model who worked for the same agency she did, and there wasn't a speck of romance between them. But Trent didn't have many friends in the first place, and no matter what they'd discussed about friendship, he wasn't likely to become buddies with a scatterbrained woman who talked to houses and hung crystals in her windows.

Besides, it might be easier if she didn't see him often.

Emily shook the speculations away. Thinking about Trent was a bad habit and she didn't want it turning into self-pity. Friends might think about each other occasionally, but they didn't constantly wonder what every nuance meant. Though that didn't mean she was in love with him.

Drat. Even after telling herself not to, she was still thinking about the guy.

“Did I see tree-trimming equipment in the truck?” Trent asked Parker as the other members of the crew disappeared inside the house.

“You betcha.” Parker turned to Emily. “I assume you want that black cottonwood taken out since it's long dead, but what should we do with the rest?”

Emily shook her head. “You've all been wonderful, but that's too much for you to do. I'll hire a tree service.”

“Dad, if you'll do the pruning Emily wants, Jackson and I can deal with the dead cottonwood,” Trent said to Parker, ignoring the protest.

Parker winked. “Sounds like a plan.”

The family returned to work and Emily was amazed anew. She'd expected to spend weeks clearing the yard, but by the end of the day, the wilderness had been transformed into an orderly space, with heavy mulch laid down to control growth where she didn't want it. There was even a rough lawn, the weeds having been whacked into submission.

Dinner in the early evening was as delicious as lunch had been—barbecued chicken and steaks, with side dishes from the coolers brought by the McGregors and Nelsons.

Trent was as cheerful as she'd ever seen him and Emily tried to be glad. She liked happy endings and he was probably going to get one, at least when it came to his family.

As for herself, Wild Rose Cottage was turning into a real home, and that would have to be her own happy ending.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

E
MILY
WOKE
THE
next morning trying to understand why she was depressed, then told herself it was ridiculous. The McGregors and Nelsons had done something extraordinarily nice for her. Now she could start landscaping the garden immediately with time to get plantings established before the onset of winter.

The crew gathered at the usual time for coffee and a snack before heading upstairs, but Trent stayed behind.

“I didn't get a chance to talk to you about this last night, but there's a problem with the master bath tiles,” he explained. “When the shipment arrived we checked the top layers, but we should have gone deeper. Yesterday Eduardo found the ones below have quality issues.”

With a sigh, Emily told herself she should have known better. Trent had warned her that the manufacturer wasn't reliable, but she'd liked the tiles, and at the time, she hadn't liked
him
that much. So she'd gone the opposite direction of what he'd advised.

“Go ahead and get it over with,” she said, resigned. “You must be dying to say, ‘I told you so.'”

He grinned and it struck her that he was getting much better at smiling. “What about the adage ‘the customer is always right'?”

“Except we both know customers can make decisions that really suck.”

He chuckled. “Maybe, but we can fix this one. I'll take you over to Big Sky so you can see what we have in stock. If we have something you like, we won't have to delay finishing the master bath.” He didn't have to tell her that specialty tiles could take weeks to receive.

“Okay.” Emily wondered if the tile problem explained why she'd been depressed earlier. Wild Rose Cottage could be sad about the tile problem... Yeah, that must be it.

Grabbing her purse, she followed Trent outside. “I could take my car,” she suggested. “You don't need to drive me.

“I'm heading right back anyway,” he said. “And if you like something we have in stock, I'll bring a pallet of the tiles with me.”

He opened the door and she climbed into the high cab, trying not to look toward the truck bed where they'd slept under the stars. If she'd only stayed as strong the night of the barbecue and auction as she had that evening at the farmhouse, she might not be fighting her heart so much now.

* * *

A
LAINA
SAW
T
RENT
'
S
truck pull into the construction yard and came out to greet Emily, delighted for a chance to share her news.

“Trent told me what happened,” she said first. “I've already contacted the company. They've apologized and issued a refund, claiming some sort of glitch.”

Alaina followed Trent and Emily to the warehouse, where a display area showed which products they had in stock.

It was unusual for her brother to stand around while a client looked at samples—he really
did
have lousy social skills. Of course, with everything that had happened, the situation with Emily was far from normal.

“I can stay if you want to do paperwork in the office,” Alaina told him. “There's a big stack of estimates waiting for your approval.”

Trent cast a glance at Emily, who was carefully studying the samples. “All right. Emily, give a shout if you have any questions.”

“Thanks.” Once they were alone, Emily abandoned the tiles and looked at Alaina. “Okay, I can tell you've got something you're bursting to tell me about. What is it?”

“Mike has agreed to coach Big Sky's Little League team next year, and I don't think it's because he's trying to make me happy. He also has another appointment with the principal at the high school, so he may be considering
that
coaching job, too.”

“Terrific,” Emily exclaimed. “He'd be a great coach.”

“That's what I think, and he wants me to be his assistant with the Little League team.”

“Any particular reason?”

“He says it's to keep him balanced. I'm supposed to make sure he lets the kids have fun, and that they only enjoy winning because they've done their best and played fair, not because they're miniature Mike Carlisles in training.”

Emily looked impressed. “He's come a long way in a short time.”

“Yeah. But I still want to take it slow. It's easy to do and say the right things for a little while, and I'm interested in the long haul.”

“You don't completely trust him yet, do you?”

Alaina frowned. It was a fair question. After years of waiting and hoping and being continually disappointed, she wasn't sure she trusted Mike
or
herself.

“I guess I don't,” she admitted.

“The road to love has plenty of cotton bales in the way,” Emily said in a credible Southern drawl. “At least that's what my great-grandmother Adele always said. She died when I was sixteen, but I adored her. She had an interesting edge to her personality that may have increased her romantic challenges.” Emily laughed. “When she finally fell in love with someone who accepted her, she said the price was changing her name to Adele Philpott, which she didn't appreciate at first. But she later became proud of it.”

They turned back to the tiles. To be sure her friend was seeing everything available, Alaina pulled out several catalogs with color pictures of bathrooms and the tiles used in them.

Her cell phone rang and Alaina glanced at the caller ID. It was Mike, so she went outside to answer.

“I just called to hear your voice,” he said.

She melted inside. “I'm glad, because I wanted to hear yours, too.”

While she wasn't sure if she was in love with the guy, this was a whole lot more fun than just sitting on the sidelines, wishing for something to happen.

* * *

T
RENT
QUICKLY
SIGNED
off on the estimates, wondering if it was really necessary. Maybe he should let Kenny make the final decision on jobs under a certain amount. Why hold up work just because he couldn't get to the paperwork?

He headed back to the warehouse. His sister was standing out in the yard, talking on her cell phone. Inside he found Emily thumbing through a catalog.

She glanced up.

“See anything you like?” he asked, hoping she would choose something they had in stock.

She pointed to a tile on the sample rack with a dark and pale gray variation. “This one, I guess. Eduardo was going to intersperse random glass tiles of different colors, so this would work.”

“We've got enough of those on hand to do the job, so he can start right away.”

“That's nice.” She didn't say it with her customary enthusiasm and he frowned.

“Emily, if this isn't the tile you want, don't go with it,” he surprised himself by saying. “We still have the attic to renovate, along with the remaining bedroom and bath downstairs. We could do those while waiting for a shipment to arrive.”

Her smile flashed.

“It's nice of you to offer,” she said more cheerfully. “But this one will be like clouds on a stormy day and the small glass tiles will create a rainbow effect. Pretty, don't you think?”

“Sure. Not vintage, but attractive.”

Her nose wrinkled and he realized she'd gotten a light tan from working in the yard the previous day. “I love vintage, but it isn't great for the business end of living—let's face it, early kitchens and bathrooms left a lot to be desired.”

“There's something else to consider, though,” he said carefully. “If you ever want to sell the house, having something too taste-specific could be a problem.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps, but I doubt I'll ever want to leave Schuyler. It's too nice and I have Stella Luna to think about—I don't think she'd be happy anywhere else.”

“Then I'll get the tiles loaded on my truck.”

Trent frowned as he headed out to speak with the yard foreman. It hadn't occurred to him that Emily might leave Schuyler, only that she could decide to live somewhere else in town. Yet leaving was the first thing she'd thought about when he'd mentioned salability.

In actuality, there wasn't much holding Emily in Montana—just her business and an affectionate mare, and Stella Luna could move with her.

He needed to think about it, because the possibility of Emily leaving Schuyler was seriously disturbing.

* * *

E
MILY
TRIED
TO
read Trent's face out of the corner of her eye as they pulled out of the Big Sky Construction yard. He'd gone moody while the tiles had been loaded into the truck.

Of course, moody was Trent's usual disposition, though he probably wouldn't appreciate the label.

She'd been on and off all day herself. It bothered her that she wasn't as excited as she had been about the renovations. She still felt Wild Rose Cottage was happy to have a new future, but she had the craziest idea it was saying that its future didn't include
her
. How was that for gratitude? She'd saved it from being bulldozed and was spending stacks of money to make the house splendid again, but now it was saying she might not belong there?

She was truly becoming an airhead. Before long she'd start having conversations with houseplants.

“Emily?”
prodded Trent's voice. She had a feeling it wasn't the first time he'd called her name.

Criminy, she'd wandered off in her head again.

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I stop to pick up lunch for everyone?”

“Not at all.”

She went in with him at the deli, which was a mistake because it felt as if they were shopping the way a couple would shop together. He consulted her on what sort of sandwiches to buy and how much soda she thought everyone would drink. Not that it was so strange—she'd fed the crew a number of times from Simpson's Deli and also could tell him that Alaina was coming over at lunchtime. She was good at the practical stuff. Her dad had always claimed the family needed someone grounded in real life.
The rest of us need a lesson from Emily, our wise owl,
he used to say.

She'd recognized it had been an awkward attempt to bolster her self-esteem, but it had only made her feel more left out.

Darn it
.

Why was she going over that old territory again? No parents were perfect, and compared with Gavin Hawkins, her mom and dad were saints complete with halos. Her dad would howl with laughter if she ever described that image to him—because even if they had nothing else in common, they shared the same quirky sense of humor.

Actually, it was nice remembering the times they'd laughed together. Perhaps she needed to take another peek at the past and remember more of the good things. When it came down to it, how many people could claim the Mona Lisa as a close, personal friend?

* * *

A
WEEK
LATER
, Trent did a thorough inspection of the newly completed master bedroom and bath. Everything was in order. The bathroom with its gray tiles and splashes of color was attractive; the unorthodox design a reflection of Emily's personality. It wouldn't be long before she could move in so they could complete the last two rooms on the ground floor.

He checked his watch. It was almost seven. He'd continued staying late most evenings, getting extra licks of work finished after the others had gone.

Emily's behavior kept puzzling him, especially when they were alone together. She was bright and friendly, yet had erected an invisible barrier between them.

Was it regret from sleeping with him?

The whole thing could be his imagination, of course. Aside from his sister, he didn't spend much time with women.

He went down to say good-night, but couldn't find Emily. She wasn't in the basement and when he checked the yard, she wasn't there, either. Concerned, he searched the house again from attic to basement before returning to the backyard. Finally he peered into the new hot tub, fearful she might have hit her head and be floating in the water.

“Hey, Trent,” Emily said from behind him. “Considering a warm plunge to ease those muscles?”

He jerked and swung around. There were smudges of dirt on her face and her clothing had bits of cobwebs all over.

“I was looking for you,” he said, realizing he'd overreacted. “You usually say when you're leaving.”

“Sorry, I was exploring the secret passageway. You never mentioned it.”

“Huh?”

“Don't tell me you didn't know. It runs out from the house toward the storm cellar. I got curious when I was down there looking at the old shelves. It's seriously cool.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

“Not at all. I came out to see if I could borrow your flashlight. Mine isn't bright enough.”

He collected the flashlight and a high-powered headlamp from the truck and followed her into the basement.

“See?” she said, running her fingers along an old wooden shelf. “There's a catch here. You pull it forward and the shelf swings open.”

Trent examined the shelf. Strictly speaking, it wasn't secret since the catch wasn't hidden, though in the low basement light, it also wasn't obvious and could be mistaken for something else. He certainly hadn't realized it was there as a kid, or else he might have used it as an escape route. A few times he'd taken Alaina and hidden in the storm cellar when Gavin had been in a drunken rage, but had constantly worried about getting trapped.

“It isn't a secret,” Trent said, pushing the unpleasant memory away. “Nothing like the ones back East where they hid slaves in the Underground Railroad.”

“Spoilsport,” she shot back with a grin.

“I'm just sulking because you found it and I didn't.”