Restorations (Book One Oregon In Love) (17 page)

Sara dabbed at the cut on his head with a
warm, wet washcloth. “What happened?”

Brian closed his eyes and sat still for
Sara’s ministrations. “I was installing a piece of ornamental
flashing and lost my balance. I’m lucky an O.S.H.A. rep didn’t
happen by at that moment. I was using the wrong ladder for the job
because it was the closest at hand.”

“That was very naughty and dangerous. You
better hope I don’t turn you in,” Sara said with mock
solemnity.

Brian opened his eyes and gazed at her with
such intensity, her movements faltered. She became aware of the way
he dwarfed the tiny room. Clumsily, she dabbed some ointment on a
bandage and with trembling hands, placed it over the wound.

Hoping to put some distance between them,
she took a step back—and bumped into the wall. Brian got to his
feet and stood over her, causing her to shrink back even
further.

“You forgot something,” he said in a low
voice, bracing his arms against the wall on either side of her.

“What?”

“You’re supposed to give a kiss to make it
all better.”

She stared up at him in dismay. “You’re just
flirting with me.”

But instead of answering, he lowered his
head. At the last second, Sara caught him lightly by the sides of
his face and angled his head, placing a quick kiss near the
bandage.

“That’s not what I meant,” he growled.

“Please don’t tease me,” she said
breathlessly, putting her hands on his chest to hold him at
bay.

“Who said I was teasing?”

Sara noticed warm moisture under one hand
and looked quizzically at his chest. “Brian!” she squeaked. “You’re
bleeding through your shirt!” She hastily unbuttoned the top few
buttons of his shirt and peeled it open to reveal a nasty abrasion
several inches below his collarbone

He looked down at the wound. “I thought the
pain there was caused by my broken heart.”

Exasperated, Sara made a
face. “What
are
you
talking about?”

“I think you know.”

Although she felt weak from his proximity,
she was determined to get some answers. “What, is there a shortage
of shy, repressed, librarian types in San Diego that you needed to
come looking for one?”

Brian grinned at her response then caught
her chin in his hand. He tilted up her face and slowly lowered his
lips to hers. Sara knew she should stop him, but she craved his
kiss nonetheless. Before he made contact, an acrid odor assaulted
her nose. She gave him a little shove. “Do you smell smoke?”

“Literally or figuratively?” he asked with a
wicked grin.

Sara ignored him while she
sniffed the air. “Oh no!
The cinnamon
rolls!
” She squeezed past him and darted
out into the dining room.

Brian followed at a more leisurely pace,
mentally bemoaning the shattered moment. He found Sara easing open
the oven door. Choking smoke billowed as she pulled out a pan of
blackened cinnamon rolls. She set them on the stove and closed the
door with a sigh.

“I accidentally turned the oven onto broil.
What a waste,” she said in a woebegone voice. “The guys will be so
disappointed.”

Brian’s indulgent mood evaporated. “You made
cinnamon rolls for those young puppies? I thought they were for
me!”

“Well, that’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t
it?”

He stared at her huffily. “If you want to
impress a bunch of teeny-boppers with too much testosterone, that’s
your business!”

Brian couldn’t remember being so angry. It
took every ounce of his self-control not to haul Sara against
himself and kiss her the way he longed to. Sara let out a giggle,
which only infuriated him more. He stalked from the room, knowing
he looked like a fool.

“You really should let me clean that
abrasion,” she called after him.

He slammed the back door by way of an
answer.

***

The next morning, on her way home from the
bakery with a batch of cinnamon rolls—lest her crewmen be
disappointed—Sara decided to stop by Hattie’s place and say hi.
When she arrived at the mobile home, the car wasn’t in the
driveway.

By now, Sara was familiar enough with her
aunt’s schedule to know she should be home sleeping after working
the night shift. She glanced at her watch and wondered if she
should be alarmed. Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she
decided to wait a few minutes before heading home.

Within a short time, she saw Hattie pull
into the drive. Sara breathed a sigh of relief. Her aunt emerged
from the car with a welcoming smile on her face.

Sara walked over and embraced her. “Where
were you? I started to get worried when I didn’t see the car.”

“I stayed a bit late today. How is the
remodeling going?”

Sara wondered why she had the feeling her
aunt purposefully changed the subject. “It’s going fairly well. The
electrician has apparently found problems more horrific than he
first thought, and he’s boosting his price.”

“Well, I know how that goes. I found out it
will cost more to repair my Corolla than it’s worth. I’d like to
get another vehicle but have been so busy that I haven’t had the
chance to—”

“Keep the Honda as long as you need, Hattie.
But you really should come over and see how the remodel is going.
It’s been a while since you’ve been there.”

Hattie retrieved her purse and shut the car
door. “I’m sure I’ll be over soon.”

“How about after church on Sunday? You said
you’d help me choose paint colors and patterns,” Sara pressed.

Her aunt went very still. “I know we often
spend Sunday afternoons together but something’s come up this
time.” She turned to her niece with an expression of appeal on her
pleasant face. “You don’t mind, do you, dear?”

Sensing her aunt was keeping something from
her, Sara’s mind worked busily. “Of course not. We’ll do it another
time.”

“Yes, let’s plan on it. Well, are you coming
in?”

“No, I know you need to get some sleep.” She
bussed her on the cheek and watched thoughtfully as Hattie made her
way into the house.

On her way home, she tried to figure out
what Hattie might be concealing, but could think of nothing that
might cause her to act so secretively.

As she pulled into the driveway of the
farmhouse, she felt a little thrill at the thought of being with
Brian again. She hadn’t seen him since yesterday afternoon and
hoped his wounds weren’t enough to keep him from the job site.

Once in the house, she took the cinnamon
rolls from the bakery box and placed them in the oven to warm them.
This time she made sure her oven was on bake, not broil. The heady
aroma wafted throughout the house when Todd, Peter, and Jeff
arrived.

Brian came into the house as she handed out
the rolls on paper plates to the appreciative crew. She politely
offered him one while nudging the kitchen wastebasket behind her
with her foot, hoping to hide the telltale bakery box sticking out
of the top. Brian caught the movement and grinned when Todd
exclaimed over the ‘homemade’ cinnamon rolls.

“Homemade, huh?”

“Fresh this morning,” she
said, silently adding
at the
bakery
.

Brian took a bite. “Wow, these taste just
like the one’s from—ouch!” He rubbed his shin, glaring at her.

Sara gave him a limpid look and told the
guys to save some for the subcontractors arriving later. After they
filed out to begin work on the exterior of the house, Brian set his
unfinished roll on the dining room table.

“You didn’t have to kick me so hard,” he
said in an injured tone.

“Sorry.”

“I thought you were going to be nice to me
from now on.”

Unwilling to address that issue, Sara
instead noticed he had a fresh bandage on the cut on his head.
“That looks much better today. How’s the abrasion doing?”

Brian glanced down at his chest and raised a
brow. “Want to see it?”

“Uh, I’ll take your word for it.”

He took a step closer and judging from the
look in his eyes, appeared about to say something of a warm nature.
Sara swallowed and reflexively took a step back.

Suddenly Peter came into the room and
without preamble launched into a technical problem needing Brian’s
attention. She turned away as he left the room with his crew
member, wondering why she felt so disappointed.

Chapter Sixteen

Now that the framing, rough plumbing,
electrical, and insulation phases of the job were complete, the new
kitchen really began to take shape. Sara felt excitement building
within her as the renovations neared fruition. Brian placed all the
orders for the new appliances and fixtures, and had his crew
prepping the walls throughout the first floor to be primed for
painting. After that, the fireplace would be repaired and the
floors refinished.

Upstairs, work commenced to link the one
bathroom with the largest bedroom and to add a tiny bathroom for
the other two rooms using the hall closet space. The master bath
would have a Jacuzzi tub installed and she planned to decorate both
with ceramic tiles in Arts and Crafts motifs. Sara worked
diligently getting the bedrooms ready to be repainted, and while
she enjoyed working on decor ideas, she missed Hattie’s
company.

She rested her chin in her hand and stared
unseeing at an open book of wallpaper samples on the dining room
table, wondering what to do about her aunt. Hattie continued to shy
away from giving any explanations. She denied money problems,
although she refused to admit what really kept her at work so much.
While Hattie was entitled to her privacy, curiosity ate at
Sara.

She looked at the stove clock and saw that
it was after five. She heard the crew making ready to leave, and
all at once, she didn’t want to sit at home alone with Brian so
close, and yet so far away next door. Slamming the wallpaper sample
book shut, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

Sara didn’t feel any better when she arrived
at her aunt’s house. Once again the car was gone. Telling herself
she needed to check some things on the computer, she let herself
into the mobile home and looked around. While waiting for the
computer to boot up, she noticed a stack of dirty dishes in the
kitchen. Sara decided to make a closer inspection of the rest of
the house for any kind of ‘evidence’.

She found a pile of dirty laundry and, on
the dining room table, a stack of unopened mail. Feeling nosier by
the minute, she went outside and took a look around.

Sara stopped dead in her tracks. Perfectly
spaced rows of tomato plants wilted heavily against their wire
cages. A bit of housekeeping laxness from the ultra-tidy Hattie
could be excused from time to time. But finding her beloved prize
tomatoes, tenderly planted from heirloom seeds, languishing under
the current conditions of neglect worried her.

Sara turned the sprinkler on the garden and
went back inside. She did the laundry and dishes and spiffed all
through the house, hoping Hattie wasn’t ill. She decided to find
out what was going on tomorrow when she saw her at church. No more
run around. If Hattie needed help, nothing else mattered.

Feeling slightly better now that she
resolved to take action, Sara returned home. In the house, instead
of the quiet she expected, she heard movement from behind the
plastic screen separating the kitchen from the dining room.
Dropping her purse on the table, she walked over and peeked into
the kitchen.

The sheetrock was up and pipes stuck out
from the walls where the sink plumbing would go. Wires jutted from
where sockets or fixtures would later be installed. The floor
consisted of a layer of plywood, draped with a paint-spattered
tarp. Sara saw Brian mixing white powder and water in a giant basin
on top of the tarp.

“What’s that?”

Brian glanced up and she realized this was
the first time they'd made eye contact all day.

He continued mixing and looked at her from
under heavy lids. “It’s texturing mud for the sheetrock. You may
have noticed all the sheetrock is installed.”

“Yes, I did and it looks great.”

“Well, this goes over the walls and ceiling
to help camouflage the taped joints.”

Sara duly noted all the taped joints and
nodded. “Why are you doing this now?”

“Because it needs time to cure before it
gets painted. I’ll have heaters in here tonight to speed up the
process. I’m already behind schedule so I’m trying to make up
time.”

“Oh.” While Sara watched him work, she got
the distinct impression he wasn’t too pleased with her presence.
She came all the way into the kitchen.

“It looks gooey,” she said, pointing to the
basin. “What does it feel like?”

Without looking up, he shrugged. “Like
texturing mud.”

Sara bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Is
it poisonous or harmful in any way?”

“Only if you try to eat it,” he said,
speaking slowly as if humoring the mentally insane.

“Hmmm.”

Abruptly, Brian stopped mixing and left
through the back door. Wondering if he planned on coming back or if
he was too perturbed by her presence to continue, she went over to
the basin and stuck a finger in the mud. It felt cold and
slimy.

“What are you doing?”

Sara jumped at the sudden sound of Brian’s
imperious tone. She stripped the mud from her fingers back into the
basin and stepped back several paces. “Just curious.”

“Satisfied?”

She shrugged and leaned against the door
frame.

Brian let loose an annoyed sigh and began to
fill a red thing with mud.

“What’s that?”

“A hopper.”

She couldn’t resist a smile. “What’s it for?
Hopping?”

Brian gave her a pained look. “Don’t you
have anything better to do?”