Wrapped in You (8 page)

She honestly had no clue what the guys would be facing as far as getting the property up to safety codes in order to open a business, but the end result would be nothing short of breathtaking. She only wished Chelsea was around to see her dream come to life.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Sophie jerked around at the grouchy tone. Zach, complete with scowl and messed hair, stared back at her.

She was done catering to his moodiness, so she pasted on a smile. “I wanted to see the place again.”

“I invited her.” Braxton came from one of the side rooms off the foyer. “If you're going to be nasty, go to another part of the house. Sophie has just as much right to be here as we do.”

Zach's eyes narrowed as he stalked past her and ran his gaze over the ceiling, the window frames, and muttered something under his breath. He'd dismissed her, but that was fine. She wasn't leaving, and if he wanted to be a jerk, that was his problem. Yes, she wanted to be here for Zach, but she wanted to be part of this endeavor too, because a resort and spa would be brilliant.

“Ignore him,” Braxton said with a smile. “He hasn't had coffee yet.”

“Is that the excuse for the past decade?” she half joked, but Zach's stiffening shoulders weren't lost on her. She hadn't meant to poke the bear. Okay, maybe she had, but come on. How long could a person brood?

“Want me to walk with you, or are you exploring on your own?”

Sophie looked back at Braxton. “I can look on my own. I'll just text you if I need you.”

“Works for me. I'm heading upstairs.” He tapped his notebook against his thigh and headed toward the steps before turning back. “Zach—”

Zach turned. “I know. Play nice.”

Braxton threw her a grin before he ascended the wide, curved steps. The grand staircase itself was sigh-worthy. The rich beauty of the entryway was stunning. Sophie had sold this house to her friend, so she'd been inside several times. Now she was looking at the home from a whole new angle. A business angle, and one that would surely take off if done right.

First, though, they had to make a list of needed renovations and take it to the housing office to get them approved. Once the guys had a building permit, they could get started. Sophie could hardly wait to see this home start to take shape and come to life.

Sophie turned in a slow circle, taking in the windows, the high ceiling. Only a few feet from her, Zach crouched down and ran his hand across the old hardwood floor. Not the original from the looks of it. Again, he muttered something and Sophie decided to take matters into her own hands. She was done letting him hide behind pain and guilt. She would be spending a good bit of time with them now, because Braxton was right. She had every right to be part of this journey.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Sand them or replace them?”

Those blunt fingertips ran across the grain, leaving a trail in the dust. He didn't answer and Sophie wasn't budging. Tapping her foot, she smiled when his eyes darted to her legs. She'd thrown on an old pair of tennis shoes, running shorts, and a tank. Sophie knew the closed-up house would be stuffy and hot.

While she may have ugly surgical scars on her hip, she knew her legs were in great shape from the water aerobics classes she taught twice a week and the runs she forced herself to do. Even her doctor had suggested exercise to keep the muscles strong and firm. He did warn her not to overdo and to listen to her body, and right now her body was saying she wanted Zach to take notice.

“Chelsea liked the look of dark, rich wood floors,” Sophie went on as if they were actually having a conversation and this wasn't one-sided. “I think that would look really nice in here.”

Rising to his full height, towering over her, Zach's intense, hard gaze pinned her in place. “I'll figure it out once I see the rest of the place. I'm not concerned with cosmetic decisions right now. I'm more concerned about getting approved for the permit. I'll worry about ‘pretty' later.”

Wayward dark strands curled over his forehead; inky lashes outlined beautiful dark eyes any woman could get lost in. When he crossed his arms, mimicking her stance, she caught sight of the freshly busted knuckles on his left hand.

“Did you get in a fight?” she asked, nodding to his hand.

He didn't even glance down. “Yeah, with the bathroom I'm renovating.”

That snarky side of his irritated her. “That looks serious. You need antibiotic ointment on that,” she scolded. “Probably could use stitches.”

When she started to reach out, he stepped back. “I'm fully aware of how to tend to my own wounds.”

“You may be aware, but you're doing a piss-poor job of following through.” She refused to let his sharp words or actions hurt her. He was Zach, sometimes crabby, sometimes quiet . . . yet always intriguing. “When that gets infected because you've opted to be bullheaded and you can't work, I won't be responsible if an ‘I told you so' slips out of my mouth.”

His eyes darted to said mouth, and Sophie resisted the urge to lick her lips. No doubt Zach went for the vixen type, the woman who didn't care about relationships.

Why was she so worried about Zach's type? Over the years Chelsea had mentioned a few women here and there, but as far as Sophie knew, Zach hadn't had a serious relationship since he'd gotten out of prison.

The fact that he had served time always bothered her. Not that she saw him as damaged or below her in any way. His incarceration had eaten away at her each day he was away. He'd made a mistake. Yes, people were hurt, but he'd never been in trouble before and she'd wanted the judge to take it easy on him.

Chelsea had hinted at a horrific childhood Zach had lived through, and Sophie hated how he'd been doing so well for himself until one night when they'd all made poor choices.

To see his brothers and Chelsea struggle with the backlash from the town, then their parents' fight to hold their heads high and still be proud of the man Zach was had been difficult. Eventually people's whispers died down. Other gossip had taken its place.

Sophie had been in surgery the day Zach's sentence came down, and she'd been unable to be by his side, to tell him how sorry she was. She'd tried to visit him in prison, but he never accepted her as a guest. After he'd served his year, she'd gone to him, but he wasn't the same man anymore. He'd closed in on himself, turning away any friendship or anything more they could've had.

And that had sliced her deeper than any surgery or doctor's findings ever could have. Not only had she lost any chance of a romantic involvement, she'd lost a friend.

He'd gone straight back to working with his father until Ed passed away from a massive heart attack. Only a year later Zach's mother succumbed to cancer.

As if all the events leading up to the death of the two people who'd saved him hadn't been enough, Zach had lost them when he was just getting back on his feet. Perhaps he'd never recovered. Maybe he never would.

Sophie had to try, though. Chelsea wanted better for her brother, and to be honest, Sophie wanted more of a life for him, too.

“I have a busy day.” Zach flexed his wounded hand and let out a tired sigh. “Look around all you want, but don't get in the way.”

Turning on his battered work boots, he walked away and disappeared down the wide hallway. Sophie gave him a mock salute, which he couldn't see, but the childish gesture made her feel better.

Zach was in all-work mode and irritated, so looking around on her own was perfectly fine. Besides, she wanted to explore the mansion from a female standpoint, from the view of how to decorate and make use of each room for the grand spa and resort her best friend had envisioned. Yes, all the beautifying would come later, but that wasn't going to stop her from daydreaming now.

Zach and Braxton could look around at the mechanical, reconstruction side of things. They could work the electrical angle and worry over the pipes and plumbing. Their father had owned a construction company for years, teaching each of the boys the trade. Only Zach had taken to the work and turned it into a lucrative career. He was the most sought-after contractor in the town and surrounding areas. Apparently people didn't care about the gruff exterior since he did such an impeccable job.

While Braxton knew quite a bit about construction too, Sophie figured he was walking through the house doing figures in his head and forming a budget. Braxton was book smart, business savvy, and extremely intelligent when it came to economics. With these two in charge, there was no way this resort wouldn't take off.

Sophie just wished Liam was on board. She wished all three brothers would've joined together and completed this project for Chelsea.

She went from room to room on the main floor. She'd only seen Chelsea's notes for a few minutes, but already her mind was spinning with ideas. By the time Sophie had used her phone to snap countless pictures of the entryway, formal dining room, kitchen, and the sitting area, she'd lost track of time.

She'd been there a little over an hour and hadn't seen either of the guys. She'd heard movement a few times, but had been caught up in the nostalgia of the place. She couldn't even imagine what had transpired between these walls. The fact that a family had lived here and had taken such a risk to house escaped slaves during the Civil War was amazing and beyond brave.

Which reminded her of the old tunnels in the basement. When she'd sold the house, she hadn't gone through the tunnels. She had had an inspection done, and the inspector found the passageways to the two other cottages on the land to be sound. Now she wanted to explore.

She turned the old brass knob, and the door opened with a slight groan. She peered down the dark, narrow steps, sliding her phone out of her pocket to use the bright screen as her flashlight. She held tight to the rail as the familiar twinge in her hip kicked in whenever she did steps. Not painful, just there and enough to be annoying.

At the bottom of the stairs, she turned and spotted Zach. His flashlight roamed over the concrete walls, the furnace and water heater, pipes running along the ceiling.

Her tennis shoes shuffled against the grit and grime on the concrete floor as she made her way across the dingy space.

“You should've stayed upstairs,” he told her, not taking his eyes off the task. “The floor is uneven down here and you could fall.”

“How did you know it was me?” she asked, gripping her phone.

A grunt was her only response.

Warmth spread through her at his worry. Minor as it may be, she would take it. Not that she wanted his pity by any means, but the fact that he showed some caring emotion seemed like a step in the right direction in finding out if the old Zach still existed or if he'd died the night of the crash.

Sophie headed toward the old steel door that led to the tunnels. There wasn't a doubt in her mind Chelsea had explored these spaces. Chelsea had lived for adventure of any type.

Sophie hadn't seen the tunnels mentioned in Chelsea's notes, but Sophie hadn't gone through all of the notes either. Had her late friend planned on doing something neat with these secret passages?

“What are you doing?”

Sophie turned, shielding her eyes with her hand when his light nearly blinded her. “Am I under examination? Put that down.”

“Don't go in there,” he warned in a firm tone.

She tugged on the old metal latch. The door creaked as it was freed from the rusty lock. “I just want to look for a second. Don't you?”

“I will. I want you to go back upstairs.”

“Why?”

His light shifted down, drawing closer to her as his work boots scuffed against the floor. “Because it's dirty down here, it's cold and it's dark.”

Sophie ignored him and propped the door open, moving on into the narrow tunnel using the light from her phone. She wanted to see how long the tunnel was. She knew it came out at one of the servants' quarters, but she didn't know if it branched off in two different directions or if it led to just one of the homes and another tunnel led from that home to the second.

The eerie feeling that swept over her at all the memories, heartache, and fear held in this constricted space had shivers racing through her. Sophie couldn't even imagine hiding just to save your life, protect your freedom, all because of the color of your skin.

“Would you get the hell out of there?” Zach yelled as he started in behind her.

Sophie turned. “What is the problem? I'm fine. The ground is level and flat in here. I'm not going to fall.”

She started to turn back around, but Zach grabbed her arm. “Maybe I want to look down here alone.”

She couldn't see his face all that well, but his warm breath tickled her cheek, his strong hand held on to her bare forearm.

“Too bad,” she told him, tilting her chin. “I'm already down here and I'm just as much a part of this.”

Zach cursed beneath his breath as his beam of light bounced off the narrow walls. “I don't want you to be, Sophie. Can't you see that? I don't want you here.”

Hurt spread through her and she jerked her arm away from his grasp. Damn stubborn man. Who did he think he was, ordering her around?

She refused to let him see the extent of the damage his words had just caused. She'd wanted to pull the emotions out of him.
Be careful what you wish for
.

“I'm already here,” she fired back, her tone harsh from the tears that clogged her throat. “If you want away from me so bad, then why don't you get the hell out? Go back to whatever it is you were doing out there. I want to look.”