What Happens Between Friends (9 page)

And Lord knew her mother’s store catered to those trends. And to the women who could afford to spend a couple hundred dollars on a pair of jeans just because they had someone else’s name on the tag. It wasn’t like they were stitched together with gold, people.

“It was just a suggestion,” Irene said, but her voice sounded weird. Strained. “I guess I’d better get back to my little hobby now.”

Uh-oh. Definitely hurt her feelings.

“Mom, I didn’t mean—”

“Shall we expect you for dinner?” Irene asked.

“Sure,” Sadie said slowly. “Is it all right if I drop my stuff off at the house?”

“Of course. Goodbye, dear.”

“’Bye.”

But her mother had already walked away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“J
UST
TO
LET
you know,” Maddie said Tuesday afternoon as she helped James lay the floor in one of the bedrooms at Bradford House, “the workers are talking mutiny.”

Using a mallet, he hit the plunger of the flooring nailer, nailing a board to the floor. Grunted.

She set her hands on her hips above her tool belt. “Did you
grunt
at me? Really? Just when I think having three brothers couldn’t get more annoying, one of you proves me wrong.”

He straightened. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you’ve been moody, grumpy and a general pain in the ass for the past two days. You yelled at Art and he’s like...eighty years old.”

“He’s forty-seven.”

Her brow wrinkled. “Well, he looks older. A good reason right there not to smoke.”

James sighed. “Maddie...”

“Oh, right. Anyway, you’re pissing off people left and right. Which isn’t like you at all. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine. But you’d better do something. Get therapy or have someone help you pull your head out of your ass. But stop snapping at your coworkers before they decide working alongside someone as witty and awesome as me isn’t worth putting up with you.”

He didn’t want or need advice, especially from his younger sister. He’d had a rough few days. He was entitled, wasn’t he? Christ, he’d finally slept with the woman he’d been in love with since he’d been ten freaking years old only to cut her out of his life completely.

He deserved to be grumpy for a few days. Maybe even a week.

“Are you done?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”

“Good.” He picked up the next piece of flooring and set it in place. Grabbed the nailer. “Then we can get back to work.”

“You’re not still upset about Bree going to breakfast with Neil today are you? Because she’s really looking forward to hanging out with you this weekend.”

“I’m looking forward to it, too.” Even if it meant getting used to his new position in his niece’s life.

Even if it meant acknowledging that now that Bree had her father in her life more often, she didn’t need James. Not like she used to.

Which proved he needed to focus on his own life. On moving forward.

It’d proved how right he was to finally let go of his crazy, stupid dreams regarding Sadie.

“Does this have anything to do with Sadie?” Maddie asked, watching him shrewdly.

He missed the plunger, hit his knee. He dropped both, straightened and hopped over to the wall for support and carefully straightened his leg. “Son of a bitch.”

He glanced at Maddie, but instead of sympathy, his sister stood there looking as if he’d gotten what he deserved. “I take it that’s a yes?”

Rubbing his knee, he glared at her.

Maddie, of course, wasn’t intimidated in the least. “Because after work yesterday, I stopped by WISC looking for a dress to wear to some fundraiser Neil is taking me to when Bree and I fly out to Seattle in a few weeks, and Irene said Sadie was staying with her.”

“Not interested.” He crossed to the corner, grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler Maddie had brought. Drank deeply. He hadn’t let himself wonder where Sadie had ended up. But if he had let his guard down enough to let her into his head, he would have thought she’d end up with Charlotte. Or one of her other friends. She’d always felt so stifled at her mom’s place.

“Well, I was interested, seeing as how Sadie usually stays at your place. What’s the deal?”

“Drop it, Maddie.”

“Did you two kids have a fight?”

He finished the water, crushed the bottle. “Damn it, I said drop it.”

Her eyes widened, and she crossed to him. “Oh, James. You did it, didn’t you? You told her.”

Foreboding touched the back of his neck, cold and clammy. “Told her what?”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “That you’re in love with her.”

“Aw, Christ.”

“You did,” she breathed. “What did she say?”

“What do you think she said? And how the hell did you know anyway?”

“I’m your sister, but more importantly, I’m a woman. And I know you. I see how you look at her when you don’t think she’ll notice.” She removed her ball cap and hit it against the side of her thigh. “I figured once you finally stopped messing around and were honest with her, you two would...”

“Would what?” James asked, hating that his sister had seen what he’d tried so desperately to keep hidden. If Maddie had seen his feelings for Sadie, who else knew? It was demoralizing to realize he was an open book, and yet Sadie had been shocked when he’d admitted how he felt about her.

It was humiliating.

Maddie’s expression softened. She felt sorry for him. Okay, it was worse than humiliating. It was pathetic.

“I thought you two would work out,” Maddie said, her voice gentle. “That she’d stay in town, you’d get married and have a couple of incredibly adorable kids.”

He lifted another piece of flooring. Realized he hadn’t finished nailing in the previous piece so set it down. “Yeah? Well, Sadie isn’t interested in any of that.” Wasn’t interested in him, not in the way he wanted her to be. The way he needed her to be in order to remain in her life. “It seems I’m not her type.”

No, she preferred assholes who wore leather jackets and perpetual sneers. Men who were misunderstood, brooding and antiestablishment. Hell, James was the opposite, and he wasn’t going to apologize for it. He didn’t want to change who he was, not for anyone, not even Sadie.

Maddie hugged him, and he sighed. Patted her back.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know how it feels, believe me.”

She did, too. She’d loved Neil ever since she was a kid, had gotten pregnant when she’d been a teenager only to have Neil leave her and Bree.

But Neil had come back. James doubted Sadie would. Wasn’t sure he wanted her to. Not when he was so pissed at her. Not when she’d hurt him so badly.

“I know you’re probably not ready to hear this now,” Maddie continued—she was like a damn dog with a bone, chewing it to death. “Maybe you don’t even want to hear it, but this might actually be a good thing.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to hear it.”

Maddie ignored him. She excelled at ignoring anything and everything she didn’t agree with. “The perfect woman for you is out there. And now you’re free to find her. To let yourself fall for someone you can build a life with, someone you can have a future with.”

She was killing him.

Death actually seemed preferable to finishing this conversation. “Could we please stop talking about it altogether before what’s left of my manhood curls up in a corner and dies?”

“Men. So sensitive.”

He’d gotten four more nails in when his coworker Heath stepped into the room. “There’s a woman here to see you,” he told James. He wiggled his eyebrows. “She’s a pretty thing, too. And she brought you something.”

James’s first thought, the one that had everything inside of him stilling, was that it was Sadie. But Heath had worked for them for fifteen years and had met Sadie several times. If it was her, he would have just said so or simply sent her upstairs to James.

Not Sadie, come to beg him to take her back, to give her another chance. To forgive her.

He couldn’t figure out if he was disappointed or relieved.

With a sigh, he leaned the flooring nailer against the wall and went down the back staircase to the gutted kitchen, through the dining room and into the large reception hall. As he passed the fireplace—one of five on the first floor—he heard conversation coming from the living room, then the sound of feminine laughter.

“Char,” he said, mildly surprised to find her chatting with Art. To find her there at all.

She smiled, had her dimple winking. “Hi,” she said.

Art, on scaffolding eight feet above the ground, nailed crown molding in place. Heath joined him a moment later.

James took her elbow and led her into the reception hall then slid the pocket doors shut, muting the sound. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been dying to see the inside of this place, and at your party I was talking to your mother and she said it would be all right if I stopped by sometime to look around.”

She inhaled. Well, that had been a mouthful, one she’d said in a breathless rush.

He couldn’t help but smile—the first since he’d kicked Sadie out of his life. Charlotte was cute as hell with her red hair, freckles and rapid-fire words. She was also smart and funny. Good company. But he had a million things to do, and while he didn’t mind showing off their work, doing so would put him behind schedule.

“I brought a bribe,” she added quickly, as if reading his thoughts. She peeled the lid off the square, plastic container she carried, her eyes—the same shape as her sister’s but more green than blue—sparkling with warmth and humor. “In case you need convincing. Chocolate-chip cookies.”

They smelled good. Really good. James took one, bit into it. They tasted even better.

“Sure,” he said. Schedules could always be adjusted. And being with bright, lively Char would help keep his mind off Sadie. He hoped. “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

* * *

T
HIRTY
MINUTES
LATER
, Charlotte preceded James into the kitchen, glanced back oh-so-casually as if admiring the loose brick of the dining room’s fireplace. James, on the phone, was looking straight ahead.

She faced forward again, pursed her lips. Okay, not checking her out. A girl could hope, right? And, really, it wasn’t as if she was dressed to kill. On the contrary, she’d chosen the faded jeans and loose, black T-shirt because they were casual. Had kept her makeup minimal—just a hint of color on her eyes and cheeks, a glossy pink on her lips. She’d braided her hair, leaving a few tendrils loose around her face to soften the look, some brushing against her nape to show off her long neck.

All in all, it was a look that cried out:
No need to fear. I’m not trying to impress, or heaven forbid, seduce anyone.

She’d known getting James on board with her plans would take time—time, effort and perhaps more than the usual amount of persuasion. She had a few things against her, the biggest one being that he thought of her almost as a little sister. Even though he already had a little sister and certainly didn’t need another one.

The other was the age difference. A man like James, someone decent and honorable and responsible, probably saw those ten years as a barrier, like a stone wall, keeping them apart. She would simply have to show him that they meant nothing to her. Convince him that it was okay for him to see her as a woman. A grown, intelligent woman. That it was more than okay for him to be attracted to her.

That she was worth climbing over that wall.

She stepped into the kitchen. It was empty. Finally. She hadn’t realized how many people were working here or that every room she and James entered they would encounter someone else, carpenters or plumbers or electricians.

The kitchen was also completely gutted. No cupboards or appliances. There weren’t even walls or a ceiling, just parallel boards and electrical wires, a few pipes. The floor had been ripped up, leaving large sheets of plywood.

As they’d toured the house, James had helpfully pointed out the changes and improvements they’d made—how they’d shored up the fireplace in the front parlor, had managed to save and refinish most of the original trim and installed all new windows. He’d explained what was on the agenda for the bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs.

She could listen to him talk forever. She loved how enthusiastic he was about his work. How much he obviously enjoyed what he did.

But for the most part, she’d had no idea what he was talking about. He’d explained what each room would look like when it was done, but all she could see was how they were now. And no way would she admit she had no idea what wainscoting was or exactly what a tongue-and-groove floor looked like—though she could guess.

Just because she wanted to be married to a carpenter didn’t mean she had to learn everything there was to know about renovating an old house. She highly doubted he knew how to start an IV or read a 12-lead ECG.

It would give them more to talk about during the year they dated—casually for the first two months, then exclusively for another eight to twelve months before he proposed.

She already had the perfect engagement ring in mind.

“Sorry about that,” he said, putting his phone away as he joined her.

“Please don’t apologize. I’m the one who interrupted your day. I really appreciate you showing me around.”

“My pleasure.”

Did he mean that? She thought he did. Yes, she was sure of it.

Progress. Slow and steady, but they’d get where she wanted them to eventually.

She almost giggled. Wanted to give herself a nice pat on the back for a job well done. Okay, so maybe she’d had to stretch the truth a few times here and there. She didn’t
really
feel guilty about taking him from his work. And she couldn’t care less about this house. Yes, it was nice enough, and she was sure it would look great when it was done, but right now it was a mess.

Dangerous, with all those sharp power tools and loose boards, rusted nails. Unsanitary with the sawdust and plaster and possibly asbestos floating through the air.

So she’d stretched the truth a bit. All was fair in love and war. And James’s mother
had
told her she could stop by to look around Bradford House. No, Rose hadn’t specifically said James would give her a tour, but the only way to get what you wanted was to take chances.

Achieving goals, especially big ones, took careful consideration, planning and, most importantly, execution.

Such as giving him the cookies in a plastic container so he would either have to return it himself—the perfect scenario, just the two of them alone in her very cramped apartment—or she’d have to drop by to pick it up.

“Maybe next time I should come later in the day,” Char said casually. “That way I won’t take you away from your work. Oh,” she continued, with a thoughtful frown, “then you’d be forced to stay later.”