Almost a Bride, page 10
John frowned and looked down at his shoes.
“Oh. You mean because the gate’s closed. Yes, yes. I assume it always is to keep out intruders. I knew you wouldn’t mind my going around the side of the fence and knocking on your door. After all, we were almost family.”
Gray raised one brow and folded his arms.
“Almost. What can I help you with? Finally gave in and adopted a dog or cat?”
“Heck no. I mean, it wouldn’t be fair to them. I’m not home enough.”
It wouldn’t be fair to them for a host of other reasons. The disgusted look on John’s face said enough.
“Well. There’s that. Besides, what was I thinking? You would have come to my clinic. So what gives? Missed me? We both know there’s no love lost between us, so this can’t be a social call.”
John gave Laddie a look.
“It’s not. I came by to let you know that Mandi wants to sell me her share of my mother’s house—she’s pretty relieved about getting it off her hands. I know you need to agree to the sale and I’ll pay you the same price for your share. I’m sure you want what’s best for Mandi, and you know she doesn’t live here anymore. It would behoove you both to sell. After all, you have this place to take care of and you must be overwhelmed with the restorations as it is. In fact, I don’t see much work being done around here.”
“I like to work from the inside, out. After all, appearances aren’t everything.” He was sure the insult flew over John’s narcissistic head. The part about his daughter bugged him, though. “When exactly did Mandi agree to your offer?”
John looked quickly over his shoulder before answering.
“Recently,” he muttered. “So, I take it you’re interested, then?”
Gray examined the sky. There were quite a few clouds building up today. Temps were nice. His jaw itched. He scratched it. Much better. He squinted at John and shrugged.
“Nope. Not interested.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Grayson,” John said. The creases on his ruddy, sun-damaged skin deepened with each breath he took. “I’m paying market value. Have you no financial sense? Maybe if you had any, you’d have been able to afford a better lifestyle and vehicle...and a nicer clinic.”
“I’m pretty happy with how things are. Goodbye, John.”
“But I need both—”
Everything was always about what John needed. The world revolved around him. That was his biggest mistake in life, but he was so fixed as the center of his world that he was no different from people long ago who couldn’t comprehend that Earth wasn’t the center of the universe. He had yet to learn that accumulating wealth and satisfying his material desires were akin to trying to fill a black hole. A person’s life and everything in it could disappear in a flash. Gray knew that all too well. Which made giving—rather than greed—the only worthwhile way to live one’s life, while they had it. He only wished he could truly give Mandi what she needed and wanted from him.
“It takes two. You’re right about that. Now, either I can show you to the gate, or my dog would be happy to.”
John huffed, scowled and marched off. He bypassed the gate when he remembered it was locked, stomped through the sand around the tree and slammed his car door shut with more force than necessary.
Gray let out a long whistle and let his shoulders relax, though his jaw ached. Just how recently had Mandi spoken to her dad? Before or after Gray had agreed to help her fix the place? Or had John been bluffing? Playing one against the other. That was certainly his style.
“Come on, boy. We have some painting to do.”
* * *
MANDI TOOK DOWN the painting she’d done back in eighth grade of a quiet marshland with a storm rolling in. She never understood why her grandma had bothered to frame it and hang it in her breakfast nook, but it had been there all these years. Until now.
She leaned it against the wall in the living room, then hung a dry-erase board she’d found at the local hardware and house supply store in its place.
“Perfect.” She had this. Efficiency was her middle name and her knack for plotting and planning was the reason why she’d finished college with awesome grades and had landed her first job as if it had been waiting for her. She uncapped a dry-erase marker and went at it, switching colors according to each task.
A tap at the balcony door had her jumping and streaking a line of green right across the board.
“Look what you did.”
Gray stood with Laddie at the glass and shook his head as he slid the door open.
“I must say, that’s some work of art.” Gray scratched the side of his nose and failed to hide his smile.
“Very funny.” Mandi gave Laddie a pat on the head before taking a washcloth to the streak. “I’ll have you know my methods work.”
Gray pointed to a bucket of tools and paint scrapers he’d left outside.
“So do mine. It’s called getting to work.”
“Having a plan and a list makes the actual work go more smoothly,” Mandi insisted.
Gray walked up to the board and cocked his head.
“It’s not done yet,” Mandi said. She’d gotten the days of the week, time of day and the to-do list for two of the days written in. The rest was still blank.
“What happens if it’s raining over here where you have ‘paint front porch’ down on Wednesday at ten? Or the power goes out on Saturday at two, when you plan to vacuum floors inside?”
“Then I’ll switch two tasks to accommodate the situation.”
“Or you could skip all this and dig in. Play it by ear.”
“There are these funny things called forecasts you can check online. I’ll adjust the schedule as needed.”
Gray laughed.
“You really have been gone a while if you’ve forgotten how unpredictable the rains are around here. We haven’t had an accurate forecast in...I don’t know...ever?”
“You’re right. I’ve been gone so long I’ve forgotten how annoying you can be.”
“Come on, Mandi. It’s obvious what needs to be done. Writing a plan isn’t going to accomplish more than digging in will.”
“Creative advertising is a big part of selling a house. I have a degree in that field, and drawing or plotting out a plan and ideas is fundamental to success. The place needs to be cleaned up and staged to appeal to buyers. This was all your idea. You said you wanted top dollar and I’m trying to get us that. Plus, I only have a little over a week here, so I need to be sure to get things done. We can’t take our time doing this the way you can with your place. Your other place, I mean.”
“I see. Funny how John commented on the same thing. Was my property and how slow it’s coming along the topic of conversation with your father earlier today? When you promised him the place?”
“What? I haven’t promised him anything. The last conversation I had about this house was with you. What did my father say to you?”
“Don’t worry about it. He was obviously trying to manipulate us. Caught him snooping around my place and when I confronted him, he tried convincing me to sell to him.”
Mandi closed her eyes briefly. Of all the nerve. She set down her marker and walked outside. He joined her.
“I assure you, Gray, I won’t make a deal with anyone unless you’re present, and I’d hope you wouldn’t either. Can we agree on that?”
“I have no issue with that. You’re the one who is in a rush to sell.”
She picked up a paint scraper from the bucket and slapped it gently against her palm.
“All I ever wanted was for you to be honest and open with me. If you can promise me that, then we’ll survive working together on this place.”
Something shifted in Gray’s face. He took the scraper from her and began clearing the cracked paint off the back railing.
“I’m an honest man, doing an honest day’s work. Trust me, Mandi. Nobody knows me better than you do. And nobody ever will.”
Was that an answer or a promise? A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed hard against it. She wanted to believe him but did she dare?
She kept scraping, wondering if she should tell him about the journal she had found. Maybe not. Considering what he’d said about boundaries. Maybe sharing Nana’s journal with him would be disrespecting hers.
“How long are you free to work on the house today?” she asked.
“Most of the afternoon.” He set down his scraper and shaded his eyes as he looked up at the second story. “I’ll be right back. I know Nana has a long ladder. I should get a lot of the scraping and prep-work done on the second story while I’m here. If we’re lucky and have time, we can start some painting. You can start prepping the ground floor.”
“Is that sexist? I’m not afraid of heights.”
“I don’t care if it is or isn’t. I’m not having you fall off a ladder from the second story. Let’s just say you’re more stable on water than you are on land. You were at the helm with the kayak, so we can call it even.”
“Fine,” she said, but she was willing to bet he was splitting up and doing the upper story because it would be harder for her to prod him with questions when he was up there. She opened up the smaller A-frame ladder and set it up so that she could scrape the upper part of the casing around the balcony door. Gray returned with the other ladder and extended and secured the moveable section until it reached high enough for him to strip and prime the trim near the eaves. They kept at it until the trim on both levels was ready for paint. He filled two small containers from the first gallon can she had bought and handed her one. “This will save you from having to go up and down your ladder to load your brush.” He grabbed a brush and started to climb.
“I know.”
She took the other brush and started up her A-frame, snagging the tip of her sneaker on the third rung from the bottom and losing her footing. She yelped and caught the nearest railing to steady herself, just as she heard something clatter against the decking and felt Gray’s arm wrap around her waist. He set her down rather quickly, but the touch of his hands lingered.
“And that’s why I don’t want you on the extension ladder,” he said, looking back at the mess he’d made. She had managed to keep her hold on her paint container and brush. Gray, on the other hand, had dropped his in order to “save” her. The decking where his supplies had fallen didn’t look so good.
“I was about to catch myself on the railing. I would have been fine. It could have happened to anyone, even you.”
“You’re welcome.” He shook his head at the mess.
“Thank you. Really.” She set her paint and brush down. She wasn’t trying to be ungrateful. He had always been attentive and chivalrous in the past, but it had been so long since they’d hung around each other like this, his protective reaction was unexpected. She didn’t know how to react given they weren’t a couple anymore. “I’ll get some rags and clean up.”
“The wood will still hold the color. We could paint the balcony floor the same as the railing, after we finish with the trim, just in case you end up catching me next time,” he added, for good measure. She smiled and shook her head. As if she’d be able to support his fall, although the thought of having an excuse to wrap her arms around him was nice.
Her heartstrings were beginning to tangle like her wild, windblown hair the first day she ever met him, and it had taken her two years to loosen the knots. Grayson Zale was getting to her. She blamed her loss of footing on being distracted by him. He was dangerous to her peace of mind. Dangerous to her freedom. Like moments before a lightning strike, there was a charge in the air whenever she was near him. But she knew that letting herself so much as wade in shallow waters with him was as good as diving in deep with sharks. Because when it came to a man like Grayson Zale, it was all or nothing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MANDI YAWNED BUT pain stopped her midstretch. Her upper arms felt like she’d been punched in each. Who knew scraping and painting could be that much of a workout? She let her arms flop back down on the bed and winced as she rolled over onto her side. How much more painting had she listed on her dry-erase board for today? She moaned.
Painting in and of itself wasn’t hard. It wasn’t anything like creating a scene on canvas, but the easy rhythm of sweeping the brush back and forth was meditative. And the almost instant impact of a fresh coat of paint on a banister, trim or wall was gratifying. However, when it came to holding one’s arm overhead, like when she was scraping trim she could barely reach using the A-frame ladder or when she painted the ceiling of the front porch overhang, it amounted to lifting free weights all afternoon.
The dawn sky filled her bedroom window with energizing shades of watermelon tourmaline. She eased out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. Man, she really didn’t realize how much studying and desk work had melted her muscles away. She used to be fit. Walking just about everywhere in town and jogging daily on a beach, with sand giving way with each step, had built muscles in her thighs she didn’t even know she had back when she lived here. She’d taken that exercise for granted. It didn’t feel like exercise with the waves crashing and salty breeze blowing around you. She had access to a gym in New York, but motivating herself to go work out in a closed-in, crowded space like that had proved impossible. No wonder Nana had lived well into her eighties. She woke up to this sun and beach every day. It was life-giving.
She splashed cold water on her face but what she really craved was a rich cup of coffee. No bells or frills. Just the coffee Nana used to brew, which was so good anything added to it would have been sacrilege. It was a specific bean she came across once on a trip to Africa. Something about volcanic soil.
The sun was now peeking over the watery horizon, shooting a beam of light across the living room that reflected off the wall mirror. Mandi stood on a chair and rummaged through the cabinet above the coffee maker. An unopened bag of coffee sat behind a container of loose tea. She took it out and stepped down from the chair. Kenya. That was where Nana had said she’d gotten her coffee.
A dog barked once, just as Mandi set the machine to brew. She looked outside the deck door. Laddie was trotting after Gray, who was carrying nest-marking supplies.
Turtle nests. She used to go in search of them with Gray on mornings like this. It had been her favorite time of day. Quiet. Peaceful. The two of them alone or with Nana along for the search.
She sucked on her lower lip and tucked her hair behind her ear. A part of her wanted to join him but she wasn’t sure she’d be welcome with this whole knowing-her-boundaries comment from him. Things had changed over the years. She’d be an intruder now. She didn’t belong down there with Gray and his dog...feeling the cool sand beneath her feet...experiencing the exhilarating excitement of spotting a new nest and the pure joy of setting up stakes and tape to mark a safe area around them, knowing you were doing something so pure of heart there were no words for it. Saving a helpless life.
She rubbed her arms and went to fill a mug. The first sip eased down her throat and warmed her chest. It was pure sin. Two sips later and she could feel it in her veins. She glanced outside again, not because she was spying on Gray, but because the sunrise was beautiful. She took another sip. You’re such a liar, Mandi. Just go. You can ask him about the kittens if you need a reason.
“Okay, fine. This is stupid. I can drink coffee and walk outside on a beach in front of my house without it having anything to do with Gray being out there.”
She stepped outside and took a deep breath, not because of nerves but because her lungs demanded it. The air here couldn’t be denied. No fumes or smog or trash odors emanating from the alleys behind restaurants.
“I hope Laddie’s bark didn’t wake you,” Gray called out, as he finished taping off a nest area.
It hadn’t taken him long to spot her. Had he been eyeing the place? Maybe even hoping she’d come outside?
“Not at all. I was up and making coffee. Want some?”
“Definitely. Thanks.”
She went back in and hurried to find a mug. Why she was hurrying, she didn’t quite know. Coffee sloshed onto the counter as she tried to steady her hand while pouring. Chill, girl. It was just a cup of coffee for goodness’ sake. She paused to ground herself. Your heart’s not racing because of Gray. It’s from the caffeine in Nana’s special coffee.
Yeah. That was it. Totally.
She took both mugs outside and made her way across the thirty feet of sand to where he was at a leisurely, carefree, relaxed pace.
“Thanks,” he said. His hand touched hers as he took the mug and every nerve ending that made contact triggered a flood of memories.
“Sure. It’s nothing. Just coffee.”
“Thanks anyway.” He gave her an odd look.
Laddie circled her twice, then stood in front of her wagging his tail. She kissed the collie on the head and scratched his neck.
“He’s good about not eating the eggs? Or hatchlings?”
“I trained him on leash at first. He was well trained, but I had to teach him the nests were not toys. He actually sniffs them out for me now, without disturbing them. He wouldn’t harm a fly, but when hatch dates come around, I keep him inside. It’s to avoid excitement for him and stress for the babies. He’d probably try to round them back up to the nests while they’re headed for the water. I have had to post signs for tourists to keep their dogs on leash, though, because of the nests. Most dogs would destroy them.”
“Makes sense,” Mandi said.
Gray drank some coffee, and the way his eyes closed briefly said it all.
“Wow. You found Nana’s stash. Takes me back,” he said.
“I did. And it does.”
