The Firefighter's Appeal (Harlequin Superromance) (10 page)

“What do you think?”

He shrugged. “It’s just a building. I suppose it would work fine.”

“Do you think I should pursue it? Stay in Danbury?” She caught her father’s eyes. As usual, they were devoid of any discernible emotion. She searched his face, looking for some soft spot, some sign that he might be coming around.

He sniffed. “It’s just a drawing.”

Tears bit the back of Lily’s eyes. She blinked them away. She knew better than to ask...didn’t know what she was hoping he might actually come out and admit. That he wanted her to stay in Danbury? That he believed she could manage an extension of their business here, the way Lincoln believed she could do in Nashville?

Lily’s chest tightened. Saying that he loved her would have been a nice start. Foolish, stupid, idiot thing to even hope for. But she couldn’t stop herself from trying, just once more.

“Do
you
want me to stay in Danbury?” The sweet feeling the roses had given her faded.

Doug waved an irritated hand at her. “Lily, you’re going to do what you’re going to do.” He spun around. “Hey, I need you to pull the file for the Masterson bid and make some changes ASAP. I just sent you an email about it.”

He walked out, his voice driving nails through her foolish hope that someday her dad would tell her that he wanted her to stay. Not because he needed her help with the business, but because he loved her.

Talking with Garrett about his plans for the empty lot had given her a little blip of excitement. Between his development to host fairs and sales and her showroom to draw contractors and designers, they could easily work together to cross promote their venues while helping support the community. That was a partnership that made sense, one where she’d be important.

Lily set the blueprint on her desk and turned back to the window. It had been a nice thought—a quick passing thought. Because there was no way she was getting any more involved with Garrett Mateo or hanging around Danbury for her father to walk all over her any longer.

She kept herself busy the rest of the day, torn constantly between the flowers and the blueprint. How she managed to actually get any work done with all the daydreaming was a miracle, but by the time Doug had left for the day, Lily had finished the draft for Garrett and tidied up several lose ends for other clients.

Cranking the radio, Lily clicked through templates on her computer drafting program until she found one that was a pretty close match to the lower level of the shoe factory. She plugged in her own design ideas, her focus and more daydreaming draining her of any sense of time.

Her hair had started to fall from the green-and-white silk scarf she had it tied up in, wisps curling around her eyes and tickling her neck. The heat was sticky, despite the fan she had running, making her top cling a little more than was comfortable. She shut down the computer and spun in her chair, wishing Garrett would hurry and pick up the draft so she could head home and dunk herself in a cool shower.

That might soothe her skin, but she knew it wouldn’t do anything for the burn of her emotions. Lily tilted her head and studied Lincoln’s draft and compared it with the one she was working on. Each time her eyes fell to Lincoln’s version, she thought of Doug’s crappy attitude and some of her creative juice would dry up.

He’d never been a talker, especially about anything emotional or personal. When they were young, Katja and Lily would ask him about their mothers, but even then he hadn’t been forthcoming.

Katja’s mother had been Doug’s first wife, Greta, and from the little Lily had been able to get out of him over the years, she’d been his greatest love. She’d been from a political family, which had had enough influence on Doug that he’d agreed to give Katja her mother’s surname instead of his own. Greta Ober died when Katja was two.

Doug remarried shortly after and had Lincoln and Lily, only to have their mother walk out and never look back. Lily and Lincoln had been four, too young to really remember their mother, but old enough that Lily could recall the grief Doug had gone through.

Every time Lily and Katja asked about their mothers, Doug would pretend not to hear them or change the subject. In the rare moment he felt cornered enough to comply, his answers were truncated and unencouraging. It didn’t take long to realize painful things weren’t something they talked about in the Ashden household.

He’d been a caring enough father as they all grew, but only to the extent of a pat on the head or a one-armed hug. He was in shutdown mode more than anything, so the girls had naturally drifted to Lincoln for support and affection and love. And he’d readily given it.

Lily leaned back in the chair and held the shoe factory draft near her face. Since Katja’s death, Lily had distanced herself from Lincoln, too. It was a sobering reality, but it was true. She’d turned inward, despite therapy, despite knowing she needed to talk about what happened the night of the fire. It was easier to hold it close to her heart and leave it buried inside than to share it with someone else. It was easier to accept that Doug only wanted her when he needed her to do something than to confront him about it. It was easier to just be an emotional hermit.

Even if it meant she was turning into Doug.

She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be Doug. She wanted... She wanted things to be normal. Whatever that may be; whatever that meant. Because the tension brewing between her and Doug—and the way she’d distanced herself from Lincoln—wasn’t normal, and she couldn’t accept it anymore. Soon they’d be facing the first anniversary of Katja’s death, and, dammit, they all needed to find a way of dealing with that. Together.

A light knock rapped on the open door. Her stomach flipped as Garrett peeked his head in.

“Hey,” he called warmly.

She bolted upright in the chair and gave him an inadvertent once-over—it couldn’t be helped. He was in his firemen’s uniform. Black pressed pants, a light blue button-up shirt with firefighting patches on the sleeves. He looked good—amazing—but the sight of the firefighter crest on his sleeve gave her a sour taste in her mouth. Garrett glanced down and smiled sheepishly.

“I didn’t have time to change.” He smoothed one wide palm down his middle and strode to her desk. She slid Garrett’s draft out of the folder she’d set it in.

“Wow, that looks great!” He picked up the print, blessedly oblivious to how her body was at war with itself over its reaction to him.

His hair was a mess, lying in seductive disarray over his forehead with curls licking around his ears. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing just a peek of golden skin. Lily tidied up the top of her desk, desperately needing something else to focus on. An hour-long conversation with Macy last night had turned into her fishing for more scoop on Garrett. Lily had begrudgingly admitted he was too handsome for his own good.

God. That is a freaking understatement.

“I just finished, actually. We can make any changes if you like. I can open the program back up.”

Keep it professional, Ashden.
She almost laughed out loud at her inner reprimand. He turned his back to her desk, studying the print as he paced. After a moment, he turned and met her eyes.

“This is amazing, Lily. It’s exactly what I had in mind.” He came around by her chair and hunkered down next to her. “What are these marks here?”

“Landscaping outlines. It gives you a general idea of where trees and flowers could be planted to increase the appeal of the space.” She pointed to the sheet. “These lines give you options of walkways—paths—that could be put in to lead people from the new deck off the bar outside. For instance, if you wanted to allow vendors to put up booths, it would make sense to do that here and here, and put paths between them.”

They went back and forth over options. Lily found she had to concentrate on his questions a couple of times. He smelled too good, and that, combined with his closeness, muddled her focus.

He finally straightened, his eyes straying to the vase of roses behind her desk. “Huh. I wonder what exceptionally good-looking, thoughtful gentleman sent those?” His eyebrows arched playfully as he sauntered to the shelf where the vase sat.

Lily rolled her eyes, not that he’d see. Those flowers had been taunting her all day—not just with their divine scent but the overall gesture. She could still feel a pleasurable tingle all the way to her toes when she remembered seeing them on her desk that afternoon.

“Thank you for the flowers, Garrett. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I felt bad for rushing you into this project.” He eyed the vase, fingered a flower. “And I may have had an ulterior motive, too.”

Garrett wore his self-confidence like a well-tailored suit. He read her well. She’d spent almost an hour staring at the flowers when they’d sat on her desk, touching the petals, thinking about him. Finally, she’d moved them to the shelf near the bookcase behind her desk out of frustration, but the lovely scent wouldn’t let her forget.

She tipped her chin up and crossed her arms. “There it is. You need something.”

The amused sound he made could have brought her to her knees had she been standing—a deep, sexy sound. “It’s not as horrible as you’re making it sound, I promise.”

So he did need something from her. Of course. Flowers couldn’t just be flowers. They had to be a way of getting something out of her. She’d had enough of being used, thank you.

She was about to make a snappy retort, when Garrett pushed his fingers through his hair, turned away from her and stared at the bookcase. Garrett narrowed his eyes at her for a moment before focusing back on what had caught his interest. He’d found Katja’s picture and was studying it with a slight cock of his head.

Lily’s stomach flipped a little. She tried not to think about the irony of having a fireman in full uniform staring at the picture of a woman who’d died in flames. He turned back, hands in his pockets again, his face displaying that his mind was chewing something over. But whatever that was, he seemed to shake it off.

“Okay, so I have a very impromptu meeting tonight with someone I’d like you to meet.” Garrett slid the print off her desk and rolled it carefully. “Do you know Sylvia Frasier? Of Frasier Realty?”

Every developer and contractor for three states knew Frasier Realty. “Of course. You can hardly buy property in this town without dealing with her.” Suddenly Lily understood. “Aah. She owns the lot behind the bar. I saw the sign.”

Garrett tapped the end of the rolled paper against his palm.

“Unfortunately, Sylvia and I don’t have a warm, fuzzy history. I keep offering on the land, and she keeps turning me down and raising the price. But I’m running out of time.” The passion with which Garrett spoke planted questions in Lily’s mind. “I made a promise to Brad to get this development done before—”

Silence dripped between them while Garrett’s eyes were bright with inner fire. He didn’t need to say any more for Lily to understand.

She traced the edge of her desk with a finger, feeling a sudden sadness for what the Mateo family was facing. She hadn’t met Brad, but it was obvious from Garrett’s emotions that he was close to his uncle.

“Here’s the thing,” Garrett said. “Developing the land isn’t fundamental to the Throwing Ace’s future, not like the overall renovations are. But it’s something that would add value while enriching the community and giving people like Bodie an outlet. I want to give the land purchase one last shot. I’d like you to present this design to Sylvia.”

Some of the tension seeped out of Lily—tension that had built up because she was trying so hard to stay closed off from Garrett. Yet the more time she spent with him, the more it became apparent there was a lot going on beneath his golden-boy exterior—a lot to be admired.

“You have a ton of people counting on you.”

He smiled and looked down. “It’s not just that. I don’t fail.”

There was no cocky edge to the words, just a solid self-confidence. And when he did get told no? It was probably such a foreign concept, Garrett had no idea how to handle it except to take it personally.

“Okay. But I don’t understand why you need me. Why can’t you present the idea to Sylvia?”

Lily reached for her purse from beneath the desk and slipped it over her shoulder, but remained seated. Garrett gestured for her to come over to him, held out a big welcoming hand. The gesture was simple but gentlemanly, and it tugged at her resistance. She relented, crossing to him, where that beautiful hand found her lower back as he ushered her out of the room.

He cleared his throat, his voice hard. “Sylvia is under the impression I don’t respect women.”

“Care to explain why?” She slid him a sideways look, saw that he was frowning. Garrett held the front door for her, then waited as she locked it.

He remained tight-lipped until she was settled in the front seat of his truck and he’d started it up. Garrett turned to her, ran a thumb over his chin.

“I had a very short relationship with her granddaughter. By ‘relationship’ I mean a casual night, no strings attached...at least, not for me. Holly had other ideas. I guess I hadn’t been clear enough that long-term hookups aren’t my thing. I broke her heart, she threw me under the bus with Sylvia and here we are.”

Lily thought of Rob, how he’d packed up and left when she was least expecting it. It was crushing to find out the man you were intimately involved with had life plans that didn’t include you.

The tension started to sink back in, her mind wandering to the bucket of phone numbers under the bar. She untied the scarf from her head, pulling harder than she intended, making her scalp ache.

“Were you cruel to her about it?”

“What?”

She fished a comb from her purse and began running it through her hair. Why was she so irritated right now? She shouldn’t care a lick about Garrett’s personal life, but it bothered her anyway. “When you broke it off. Were you cruel to her?”

He shook his head, brow wrinkled as though she’d wounded him with the question.

“God, Lily, no. Never.” He turned, put the truck in gear and pulled out into the street. “It’s just...I’ve never made a promise I can’t keep. I never promised her or any other woman anything beyond a few nights together. A couple weeks after I called it off, I...unknowingly got involved with one of Sylvia’s Realtors. Nail, meet coffin.”