For the Love of Pete (11 page)

He touched his mouth to hers and skimmed his tongue along the seam. Jo felt the earth shift beneath her feet.

"Pete," she protested, but without much energy.

"What, Jo?"

"We can't go back," she whispered, even though she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away. "Too much has happened. And if we dredge it all up, it'll make it impossible for me to work with you."

"So we should pretend it never happened?" he asked incredulously.

She drew in a deep breath and said firmly, "I think that's best."

"I think it's impossible."

So did she, if she were being honest. She'd just planned to push down the old feelings in the vague hope that all the new ones would vanish as well. Her reaction to this morning's treat proved that old and new were bound to be all tangled together.

"How about a compromise? I won't talk about the past if you won't," she said. "We don't have to pretend

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it didn't happen. We just won't talk it to death. We pretty well covered it last night anyway."

He didn't look convinced. "Then there's nothing more you think we need to say?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said staunchly.

He looked as if he wanted to debate the point, but he finally nodded. "Okay, I can ignore it, if you can." He turned away from her, hands shoved in his pockets. "I'm going to spend another hour working on the porch and then we can go over to the house I was telling you about. Will you be ready?"

She hated the sudden distance in his voice, as if they were little more than colleagues.. .or strangers. But she was the one who'd insisted it be this way, so how could she complain?

"I'll be ready," she told him. "I just need to hunt down my shoes and socks."

He left the kitchen, taking the life from the room when he went. She sagged into a chair and absentmind-edly picked up another doughnut. After one bite, though, she realized that she wasn't really tasting it and put it aside. Why waste something so delicious?

She sipped her coffee, but it left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Acknowledging that her conversation with Pete had pretty much ruined a morning that had started out brightly, she scowled in the direction of the porch where he was hammering away again.

She didn't want it to be like this. Last night, things had felt natural, comfortable. Today, the air was filled with tension, and it was all her fault. What had she been thinking with her stupid ground rules? She was smart enough to know that as soon as a topic or a person was

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declared off-limits, it became huge, far more important than it otherwise might have been. Now the past and their old feelings for each other loomed between them.

She noticed that Pete had left his cup of coffee on the table and made a decision. She freshened it up, then carried it outside and handed it to him silently.

He watched her warily. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

"For?"

"Being a first-class idiot."

He grinned and the tension vanished. "You? Never. You were always the smartest girl I knew."

"Maybe I grew into being dumb," she said, not entirely in jest. "I know we can't pretend that the past never happened. Last night we promised to concentrate on laughing again. Can we still do that?"

"Fine with me." He studied her over the rim of the cup, waiting. Finally, he said, "So, know any good jokes?"

She grinned. "Not a one."

"Me, either?at least none I can tell to a lady."

She shrugged. "Just as well. I'm freezing. I'll go back inside. I just wanted to, you know, settle things, make them okay again."

He tucked a finger under her chin. "Things are fine."

She felt the smile build from somewhere deep inside. "Good to know."

"Skedaddle, woman. You're distracting me."

She gave him one last look before she went back inside. He winked at her, and her heart did a predictable somersault.

Inside, she asked herself why it was so important to

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her that she and Pete be friends again. It was only opening the door to more potential heartache. She knew it wasn't because he'd offered her work. She could have managed for a bit without those two jobs he'd discussed with her. Nor was it because she didn't like being on the outs with anyone.

No, this was very personal. It was about her relationship with Pete?the one they'd had and the one she had a terrifying hunch that she wanted again.

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r ete was still feeling completely off-kilter when he stopped work on the porch and told Jo it was time to drive over to the job site. He'd come damn close to dragging her into his arms after that kiss earlier, but he'd known he wouldn't be content with a few more kisses. Better to keep some distance between them. Jo needed to get used to the idea of being around him again, and rattling her was no way to accomplish that.

Of course, it was fairly difficult to get too much distance between them in the cab of a pickup. He could smell that familiar, old-fashioned scent she'd always worn, something light and flowery. It had always reminded him of her grandmother's garden. For a long time he hadn't been able to smell a rose without being transported to Rose Cottage. When Kelsey had wanted

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to put rose bushes all around their house, he'd vehemently protested. To Pete's relief, she'd grudgingly substituted a hodgepodge of lilacs, hydrangeas and azaleas, which she'd then neglected.

He'd eventually come to hate that little house with its haphazard, struggling garden. No more than an aging beach cottage, it was cramped and filled with reminders of all the mistakes he'd ever made. He'd kept the roof solid and the exterior painted, but he'd been so busy building his business, he hadn't had the time or money to invest in any of the extras that would have made it more livable. If the people whose homes he'd built in recent years had ever seen where he lived, he wasn't sure they would be trusting him with their dream homes.

He was about to change that, though. One of the places he wanted Jo to landscape was going to be his. He hadn't told her that. He wasn't sure why, except that he hadn't decided which house to keep just yet. He was half hoping that her reaction would help him decide. Maybe he even feared she'd back out of the job if she thought he was the client she was ultimately going to have to please. After all, he'd pretty much agreed to give her carte blanche to landscape the places for some anonymous buyers who'd hopefully come along in the spring.

They rode the few miles to the first house in silence. That was another thing he'd always loved about Jo. She'd never felt the need to fill every minute with chatter. It was yet another way in which Kelsey had fallen short by comparison. Kelsey couldn't keep quiet for ten minutes if her life depended on it. It had driven him nuts. A million other traits had driven him just as crazy, but

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the one positive?his son?had made him struggle to ignore the rest.

When he turned onto the dirt road that led to the first Cape Cod-style house with its soft gray shingles and white trim, he slanted a look at Jo. She was sitting on the edge of the seat, her eyes filled with anticipation. When the house finally came into view, she gasped.

"Oh, Pete, it's absolutely beautiful." She turned to him with shining eyes. "Can I see the inside?"

He grinned. "You planning to landscape in there, too?"

"Very funny." She gave him a pleading look. "Please?"

He laughed, taking pleasure in her delight. "Of course you can see the inside. It's still a work in progress. A lot of the finishing touches won't be done until March or so. The real estate market around here kicks into high gear in April, so I'm not rushing to complete it too much ahead of that."

"That's okay, I can use my imagination."

The minute he pulled to a stop, she leaped eagerly from the truck without waiting for his assistance. She was halfway to the front door by the time he caught up with her.

"You're awfully eager," he teased. "Or are you just cold?"

"Eager," she said without hesitation as she crossed the sweeping porch and waited for him. "Come on, slowpoke. Open up."

Pete unlocked the front door, then stepped aside and waited, his heart admittedly in his throat.

"Oh, my," Jo murmured as she stepped into the foyer with its shining hardwood floors and a skylight that

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sent sunlight cascading over everything, turning the oak to a golden hue. "It's beautiful."

She walked through the downstairs rooms almost reverently, expressing delight with the windows, the fireplace, the crown molding, the French doors in the dining room that led to a soft pink brick patio, the bright kitchen with its view of the Chesapeake Bay from the window that would eventually be over the sink as well as from the bay windows around the built-in breakfast nook that had been framed in, but not completed.

"It's charming," she said over and over. "Absolutely perfect." She grinned at him. "You have incredible taste. What kind of cabinets will you have in here?"

"White with glass doors. I want to use the old-fashioned glass that has a few bubbles and ripples in it, so the place will look as though it has some age to it. What do you think?"

"I think that's exactly right," she said. "Every detail is just what I would have chosen."

Pete had to bite back the desire to tell her that she was the one who'd inspired him. He couldn't remind her that they'd built this same dream house on a dozen different occasions over that incredible summer. It hurt in some way he couldn't name that she didn't seem to share that memory, that she wasn't recognizing the details he'd worked to get just right.

"How many bedrooms upstairs?" she asked.

"Five, including the master suite. Most of the work that's left is up there and here in the kitchen."

"I still want to go up. May I?"

"Of course."

This time he let her go alone. He stood at the kitchen

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window and stared out at the view, remembering how careful he'd been to be sure it was at exactly the right angle to capture the sunlight on the bay in the morning. He heard Jo's footsteps going from room to room, even heard the occasional exclamation and tried to guess what she was seeing. Her delight filled his heart with satisfaction and, maybe just a little, with regret.

This house could have been theirs. They could have finalized every detail together, but instead it had all been up to him. It wasn't enough that he knew her so well that he'd pleased her anyway. The real joy would have come in the sharing, in the excursions to look at everything from faucets to ceiling fans and flooring.

Still, he couldn't deny that it felt good knowing that he'd built something she liked. He could hardly wait to see how she reacted to the second house. It was ironic given how long they'd been apart, but he'd actually felt as if she were with him as he'd designed and built it.

"Hey, it's cold in here," he finally hollered. "Are you ever going to get down here and do the job I hired you for?"

She danced down the steps, her cheeks glowing. "That's some tub you installed in the master suite," she teased him.

"Big enough for two," he confirmed.

"Lucky couple."

He grinned. "Indeed. Ready to look around outside?"

"I'll need to get my notepad from the truck so I can make a few sketches and jot down my ideas."

Pete nodded. "I'll meet you out by the oak tree in back. Wait till you see it in the spring and next fall. It's spectacular."

Some of the light in her eyes died. "I'll have to take

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your word for it," she said. "I'll probably be back in Boston by then, but I'm glad you saved it. Too many builders just slash down everything in sight these days."

"There was no way I'd cut this down. I kept imagining a swing hanging from its branches or a tree house built way up high. Besides, it adds to the feeling that this place is substantial. Even makes it feel as if it's been around for a while."

To his astonishment, she stood on tiptoe and planted an impulsive kiss on his cheek. "Nice to see you getting all sentimental about a tree."

She was gone before he could react. He wandered around back and leaned against the massive trunk of the saved oak that had earned him an unexpected kiss. He nudged it with an elbow. "Thanks," he murmured, then felt like an idiot.

Even with the sun shining brightly, the air off the water was frigid. Pete shivered as he waited for Jo to join him. When she didn't appear after several minutes, he went looking for her. He found her by his truck, her pad resting on the hood as she made some sketches, her pencil flying over the page. He went up to peer over her shoulder.

There, in front of his eyes, was a climbing rose bush creeping up to the porch railing. A pond was taking shape off to one side, surrounded by some sort of flowering bushes. She blinked and looked up at him.

"Where'd you come from?"

"Around back, where I was waiting for you."

"Sorry," she said, but with little real repentance. "Inspiration struck and I wanted to get it down on paper. I'm thinking a wildflower garden over here with a bird-

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bath. It will draw butterflies and birds, so people sitting on the porch will be able to watch them. What do you think?"

"People actually sit around and watch birds?"

She laughed. "We used to."

He thought back and recalled how they'd been endlessly entertained by the turf wars over her grandmother's birdbath and the hummingbird feeder. "I'd forgotten," he admitted. "Where's the hummingbird feeder going?"

"With the plants I have in mind, you won't need one. They'll be drawn to the flowers."

"You know, if you're going to go into this much detail all around the yard, we'd better come back another day. I don't want you to freeze to death out here. How about grabbing some lunch while we warm up a bit, then taking a quick look at the other place?"

She waved off the question, her attention back on the page. She was sketching something else, some sort of arbor.