A Kiss to Build a Dream On (8 page)

“I bet it was a surprise being around Burk again,” Stephanie Munson said, not unkindly.

“Burk's a good contractor,” Willa said, trying to shift the conversation. “The house needs a lot of work.”

“Well, you can come on down to Knots and Bolts if you need to get away from the construction,” Audrey said. “We have our recipe exchange every Thursday afternoon, of course, but the place is open during normal business hours. And sometimes during not-normal business hours. If there's an emergency.”

Willa fidgeted with her coffee cup. Did this mean they were going let her stay in their group?

“Betty keeps the key in the geranium pot if you ever need to get in and we're not around,” Stephanie said. Betty shot her a searing glare from across the table.

“Except I'm almost always here,” Betty said pointedly. “It being my store and all.”

“That's such good news,” Willa said, surprised at how much she meant it. Maybe this was all going to be easier than she'd anticipated. She faced Betty, remembering her unfinished errand from earlier, and how she'd fled before Betty could see her. Willa's regret was still there, a hot flame inside her chest, but she couldn't help wondering if there was a chance the past would get swept to the side. They'd all see how hard she was trying, and everyone would simply forgive her and move on.

“It's great to have an excuse to be at Knots and Bolts,” Willa told her, pushing past her mortification, “especially because I'm going to need some upholstery and curtains for the B and B. I was hoping I could enlist your services.”

Betty narrowed her eyes. “Probably not.”

“Excuse me?”

“I could sell you some fabric, but I'm busy with a different business on the side. With blood. And skeletons. And
death
.”

Willa shifted, suddenly nervous.

“Oh, stop,” Audrey interjected. “It's not that macabre. It's Halloween items. Betty sells them year round—online.”

Willa let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

“Helps me stay busy in between customers at the shop,” Betty said. “I've thought about doing it full-time. Knots and Bolts does pretty well, and I don't really want to close up, but I like the idea of being able to do my work anywhere. The freedom of not having a storefront.”

“Don't you dare close,” Stephanie said. “My four-year-old twins are no joke. I love them, but this place is a haven for me. I need it to be open.”

“No kidding,” Audrey said. “Especially when Betty stocks the good stuff.”

She reached into a nearby cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Irish cream liqueur, pouring some into her coffee. Everyone passed the bottle and partook, including Willa, who added an extra splash to calm her nerves.

“Well, I just come to show off,” Anna said, striding toward the kitchenette. “You guys know my brownies are the best in town.”

Willa could hear her pulling a pan out of the oven, and the heady smell of baking chocolate wafted into the room.

“So what about it, Willa?” Betty asked as Anna set a plate of warm brownies onto the table. “You plan on contributing to this recipe exchange, or just showing up to get served?”

It was a direct barb, but Willa couldn't argue. She knew she was pretty much useless in a recipe exchange. She couldn't do jack in the kitchen, but that didn't mean she was going to give up on being part of this group. If they were cracking the door to her, she'd push it open and make sure she got all the way through.

“I am really good with a corkscrew,” Willa said, lifting her chin, “and I took a world-class collection of wine with me when I left my asshole of an ex. I'm dying to share it.”

For a second, Betty didn't say anything. “Then welcome to the recipe exchange, I guess,” she offered flatly, looking away.

“Here, here,” Audrey said, raising her spiked coffee in a toast.

It was a start, Willa thought, and she'd take it. Somehow her heart was already lighter as the thick mugs clinked together.

A
nna set the apple pie in front of Burk unceremoniously.

“I don't think I—” he started but her sharp glance stopped him from saying any more. He picked up a fork. Tonight it looked like he was having dessert, whether he wanted it or not.

Out in the family room, Anna's husband, Sam, played with their two-year-old daughter, Juniper. It was a bad sign that Sam hadn't stayed in the kitchen after dinner. The man loved pie almost as much as his family, and he was a much-needed buffer when Anna had that glint in her eye that meant trouble. She was sporting it right now, in fact.

Burk speared the still-warm dessert wondering what Anna wanted to speak with him about.

As if on cue, Anna sat next to him at the worn oak table. “Willa Masterson came into Knots and Bolts yesterday.”

Well
, Burk thought,
there it is.

He set down his fork. “You don't say.”

It was all he could do to keep his emotions locked underneath his skin. Jesus, just the mention of her name and he was getting riled up. What had gotten into him? He had to be careful. His sister could read him better than anyone. Better than himself, some days.

Anna pulled her steaming cup of tea closer. Soft light reflected on the tile backsplash in the adjoining kitchen—Burk had installed it—and everything looked so warm and comfortable. It was a shame they were squandering all the coziness by talking about Willa. Burk glanced at the living room, wishing he were out there now, playing airplane or horsey with Juniper, watching her golden hair bounce and her big eyes shine.

“She joined the recipe exchange,” Anna said, pulling Burk's attention back to the kitchen, “and she mentioned you're the one fixing up the house.” She spoke the words calmly, but Burk could see the twin spots of color on her cheeks glowing like bonfires. She had some
thoughts
about all this.

“Of course I'm fixing it up,” Burk said. “I've been taking care of it this long, haven't I?”

“You should have refused the project because that's the house
you
want. How are you over there fixing it up for her, when it's
your
dream?”

Burk thought about how to answer. In the other room, Sam was playing “Won't Get Fooled Again” by The Who for Juniper. Sam always said every kid should grow up with a classic rock education. Juniper squealed with delight as Sam played air guitar.
Good man
, Burk thought.

“Someone is going to work on that house,” he said finally. “It might as well be me. And my crew. I don't see what the problem is.”

Anna arched a dark brow. “The
problem
is, this is going to eat at you, day in and day out, if she takes over a house that's supposed to be yours. Why don't you just cut the nonsense and try to buy it from her?”

“I did. Yesterday. She wanted a half million for it. I can't afford that, and she's bent on turning it into a high-end bed-and-breakfast.”

“So tell her that's ridiculous. Tell her that's the last thing White Pine needs.”

Burk shook his head, thinking about yesterday in the car. “I'm trying. It's just—I'm not—it's not that easy.”

“Like hell it isn't.”

Burk almost smiled. No one talked to him like that. Crew members said “yes sir” and “no sir.” Clients were nice because he vetted them and threw out the ones who weren't. Only Anna could get in his face like this, and talk to him like they were still kids.

“Burk, are you even listening?”

Anna's blue eyes were storming with irritation.

“Sorry,” Burk said, “your pie puts me into a trancelike state. It's just that good.”

For a moment, Anna softened. The way to her heart wasn't her food—it was compliments
about
her food. Too bad the thaw didn't last long.

“Look, I'm not interested in Willa getting hurt here. She was like a sister to me when you guys were dating, and I respect that she's trying to run a small business. It's just that she could open up a B and B anywhere. And this is a house you've cared for, for years. I think you should fight harder for it.”

Irritation needled him. He
was
fighting, dammit. The problem was that Willa kept throwing him off his game. Her curves, her lips, her inability to put gas in her car. Cripes. He was frustrated for finding it all so
appealing
, when he knew better. He knew she was bad news.

“I'll figure it out.”

Anna studied him for a few moments. He felt as though his thoughts were carved into her kitchen table, plain as day to read. “Are you going to ask her out?”

Burk nearly choked. “What? Of course not. Have you lost your mind?”

“Well, it's not working out with anyone else, so I thought maybe you'd try to rekindle things with Willa.”

Out in the living room, “Baba O'Riley” was playing. Juniper babbled “teenage wasteland.” It came out “neeeam beebaaa.”

“It's working fine with plenty of women,” Burk said. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“So last night's date? Bowling alley girl? That went…”

“Fine,” Burk growled, not wanting to tell his sister that he'd taken bowling girl back to his place, only to have her storm out when not one but
two
different bras had slipped out from the pillow underneath her head as they were making out on the couch.

The blurry memory of how they'd gotten there came back to him in a rush, and he'd almost smiled remembering the pair of doe-eyed twins with unbelievable flexibility who'd been over earlier in the week. But he couldn't very well explain any of that to his date. “That's
classless
,” bowling girl said, her tone biting.

He couldn't even argue with her. She was right.

“I'm glad it was a swell evening,” Anna said, a smug smile playing on her lips as she watched his face. “And before that, it was another home run, right? With the woman who realized you'd taken out her best friend the week before?”

Burk frowned. It didn't seem right that Anna could sit here and give him a hard time about dating. Especially not when she had found Sam so easily, when they were seniors in college. “I met him in a Russian history class,” Anna used to joke, “and I was so bored, I stared at Sam to keep myself awake.” They'd gotten married right after graduation, and had Juniper a few years later. Here his baby sister was, happy and so clearly in love with her husband—and acting like Burk was somehow less just because he hadn't found someone yet.

It wasn't for trying. He had dates all the time. But he also had his business and his routine, and he wasn't about to foul those up for a complicated relationship that wouldn't go anywhere. Anna should know this better than anyone, Burk thought. She'd been the one with the best view of his heartbreak after Willa left, after all. She knew how determined he was not to let it happen again.

“We can't all be as lucky as you and Sam,” Burk snapped. He could feel his stomach hardening all over again, the old pain from Willa's departure weighing like a cold stone in his gut. Twelve years in, and he was still feeling the effects of the first one.

“Hey, easy there,” Anna said, “I just was curious if you and Willa—”

“My relationship with Willa is in the past,” Burk interrupted. “I intend to keep it that way.” He was shifting into contractor mode. Impersonal. Direct. He hated doing it with his sister, hated the hurt expression that flashed across her face, but he wasn't about to let her stick her nose into his love life. Or lack of it. It had taken years for his hurt to scar over, and now that it had, he wasn't about to risk opening that wound all over again.

Anna scooted back from the table. “More pie?” she asked, not looking at him.

Two pieces of pie were unheard of for him. But Burk accepted anyway, feeling small and mean. He'd been too harsh—he knew it—but he couldn't tell her he was sorry. If he looked at her too long, he was worried his sister would be able to tell he'd kissed Willa. That was the problem with siblings. You needed them at the same time you wanted them to get lost.

Burk concentrated on his pie, forcing it down, while strains of The Who's “I Don't Even Know Myself” played in the family room.

Somehow, he felt like that was fitting.

W
illa crossed her arms, staring at the small coffee table in her dining room. The room was still dingy, the plaster cracked and flaking, the floors scuffed and dull. The table itself was a holdover from her mom's old junk. But there was something about it she couldn't quite put her finger on.

It was as if the table was the link between her high-end decorating magazines and the reality of life in White Pine. Or at least, it could be the link if she could figure out how to paint it.

She thought about a light blue, the color of an afternoon sky, with the edges roughed out so it still had a worn feel. It would be shabby-esque, but then Willa could place bright glass bowls filled with lemons on top—and it would work.
She knew it.
The only problem was, she had no idea how to paint anything, much less a piece of furniture. She bit her lip. When it came down to it, she wasn't even sure where to buy paint. Did they have that at the grocery store?

No. Of course not. It would be the hardware store, wouldn't it?

She blushed, even though she was alone in the house. Her inability to know how to do simple things mortified her. How could someone grow up to be so clueless? She felt small and stupid, and wondered suddenly how she was going to make it on her own, in White Pine, without more help. What would happen when winter came? She tried to picture herself shoveling snow off the front porch, or scraping ice from her car windows, or lighting a fire if the power went out, and she couldn't do it. She didn't know how to do
any
of those things.

Yet. She would learn. If Scarlett O'Hara could make dresses from curtains and run a whole plantation, Willa could certainly figure out how to scrape some ice.

“That table giving you a hard time?”

Willa jumped, letting out a little yelp of surprise.

“Oh, hey, sorry,” Burk said, holding up his hands. “I didn't mean to scare you. It just looked like you were giving that table the stink eye. Thought maybe I should break up the fight.”

Willa's heart raced, but she wasn't sure it was from being startled. It might be Burk himself, who was standing there in a white T-shirt and jeans, his flannel shirt discarded on this unseasonably warm September day. So much more of him was showing, from his knotted biceps to his thick forearms. She could see the rise and fall of his strong chest through the T-shirt fabric. The white cotton was in stark contrast to his stubbled chin and dark hair. Good God. She was reminded again how his body had been nice in high school, but nothing like this.

“You—you scared me,” Willa said, trying to get a hold of herself. After all, Burk had barely spoken to her since their short make-out session in the Volvo the week before. She was angry with herself for how totally undone she'd let herself get after a few good kisses. But she was furious with
him
for starting something and then walking away in the middle of it. Like she was a switch he could just turn off.

“You need a hand moving that out of here?” Burk asked, glancing at the table. “I can help before I get started on the ceilings upstairs.”

She followed his gaze. The safe thing would be to just put the table out on the curb and hope someone drove by and took it. Then she could flip through her magazines and find something else. Something new.

But suddenly Willa didn't want something else. She wanted
this
table. And she wanted it blue.

“No,” she said, “I don't need you to move it. I need a hand figuring out how to paint it.”

Burk grinned. “Paint? You're telling me you—Willa Masterson—are going to paint a table?”

Willa put her hands on her hips, not liking his tone. “No. The only thing I'm telling you is that I need help figuring out
how
.”

Burk's expression didn't change. Damn him for looking so good, even when he was wearing a shit-eating grin.

“You?
You
are going to paint?”

Willa's temper flared. “Why is that so funny?”

“It's just that you're not really the house project type.”

“Which is why I need your help, Einstein. What part of this aren't you getting?”

Burk was still grinning, like the whole thing was going to send him into peals of laughter at any moment. Willa wanted to slap the expression off his face, but she forced herself to stay put, to keep breathing calmly.

“All right,” Burk said, his tone still amused. “Later I guess I could take you down to the hardware store. But I don't want to spend hours on this, if it's going to be one of those things you start and then just walk away from. Like your jewelry project.”

Willa fumed. It would be just like Burk to bring up something she'd done in high school and throw it back in her face. Granted, she
had
been really overzealous about making her own jewelry. She was convinced it was going to propel her to fame—all the Hollywood stars would wear her pieces. She bought the supplies—beads, clasps, wire—and then had no idea how to put them all together. It was Burk who sat with her, hour after hour, and helped with the designs.

Of course, she got bored with the whole thing after making two necklaces, a bracelet, and an anklet. It's a wonder she even made that many pieces. And while she managed to sell the anklet to some freshman girl she'd practically begged to pull out her purse, it hadn't exactly been a successful endeavor.

So, fine, jewelry making hadn't been her calling. But it wasn't fair for Burk to judge her by her past. The table would be different.

“That was a long time ago,” Willa said defensively.

“But you asking me for help for another one of your projects is right here in the present, isn't it?”

Willa felt like she'd been punched. The past was like a living thing, stalking her wherever she went, ready to mortify her at a moment's notice.

Asking him for help had been a huge mistake. She should have just taken the table down to Knots and Bolts. Maybe Audrey or Anna could show her how the painting process worked. Of course, Betty would probably hoot like a barn owl when she found out Willa didn't even know where to buy paint, meaning Willa should probably do a Google search about all this on her phone, and figure it out for herself.

She straightened. She didn't need Burk's charity. She didn't need Burk, period.

“You know what? Forget it. I got this. You'd better get started upstairs.”

Burk opened his mouth like he was going to argue some more, then closed it. A tense moment passed. Then his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. “Look, I'm sorry if I was rude just then. I'll help you paint that table. I can show you how right now.” His voice was even, steady.

Willa narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Let me help you.”

“No.”

A muscle in Burk's jaw clenched. “Five seconds ago you wanted my help. Now you don't?”

“Because you were a jerk about it! I'll find someone else.”

Burk had that look again, like he was engaged in a battle of wills—with himself. She must have hurt him even more than she realized if he had to battle back anger just to be
around
her, even after all these years. “I'm sorry if I offended you,” he said quietly. “I just don't remember these projects working out so well.”

“They didn't in the past,” Willa agreed, “but people can change.” She felt like suddenly she was talking about more than just the table. She hadn't done right by Burk in the past. But she could do better by him now, if he'd let her.

It seemed like a weighty thought, somehow about much more than paint and wood. Willa tried to stay focused.
Table, table, table
, she thought.

“Come on,” Burk said. “We'll head down to the hardware store and pick out paint. I'll get a couple other things we'll need, and we can get started this morning. It won't take long.”

Part of Willa wanted to stay stubborn and just refuse on principle. But here was Burk, agreeing to help, and she couldn't deny that it was him she wanted. For the project, that is.

“If we do this, you have to swear that you won't laugh at me at any point in the process,” Willa said.

Burk held up three fingers. “Scout's honor.”

“You weren't a Scout.”

“I buy my weight in Scout popcorn every year. That's close enough.”

Willa cracked a smile. “All right,” she said finally, “let's do this.”

“We can take my truck,” Burk said, steering her toward the front door. Willa tried not to notice his hand on the small of her back—gently pressing, a rudder guiding her direction. What would life have been like, she wondered, if she'd let him keep his hand there since high school? Not literally, of course, but what if she'd let him help steer her course instead of running away from him?

She squeezed her eyes closed against the tide of memories that came rolling back, and the tear in her life that started when her dad died. She'd felt like she couldn't stop it, so she just kept ripping until she'd made a clean break with everything. Including Burk.

In the back of her mind, she pictured Lance and wondered suddenly if she'd chosen him because he looked like another pain-free option. After all, they were more like friends who had conducted a few failed experiments in the bedroom than actual lovers. Before he'd made all those reckless financial decisions, he'd been an advisor, a collaborator. But never the cornerstone of her heart. Willa pressed her elbows into her side, wondering suddenly if she'd loved anyone—really, truly loved them—since Burk.

“You okay?” Burk asked as they buckled themselves into the old truck.

If Burk knew what was on her mind, he'd probably just laugh at her confusion. She'd brought it on herself, after all. He'd probably tell her she was right to question her past and feel guilty. She
had
been foolish. She
had
been selfish. She
had
ripped his heart out when she'd tried to save her own.

So instead, Willa gave him her best Miss Dairy smile as they pulled away from the curb. “Never better.”