Restoration & Forgiveness (Renovate Book 2) (11 page)

He nuzzles my neck and sighs. His grip on me tightens, and I consider pretending I'm asleep just to see how this whole spooning-and-the-morning–after thing plays out. Unfortunately, someone else is awake as well.

"Busted."

"Morning, Dad."

"Morning, Rick." Keegan follows my greeting.

My father is staring down at us, and I'm reminded of the times he caught Keegan in my room when we were younger. He's trying to be bothered by our sleeping arrangement, but he isn't really.

"You know, there are perfectly comfortable beds upstairs for both of you to sleep in separately." He emphasizes the separate part. He walks out of the room, and we both let out the laughter we have been holding in.

"I hope you slept comfortably," Keegan says.

Surprisingly, I don't even remember being uncomfortable, or waking. Which proves the kind of effect his touch has on me. It's like a drug; if they could bottle it up I'd be addicted.

"Actually, I was in someone's death grip all night." I smile.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" I can hear the concern in his voice.

"Of course not, I'm just kidding." I almost make the mistake of telling him it felt nice, and beg him to not let go. Thankfully my brain takes over, and I don't.

I sit up and put both my feet on the floor. I smile at him, noticing that he hasn't shaved in a couple days. I've never seen him with stubble before, and I have to look away, imagining what it would feel like across my skin.

"I'm going to start coffee and make breakfast," I tell him as I remove myself from our cozy shelter. We both know that last night's sleeping arrangements aren't permanent. No matter how good it felt to be in his arms.

Walking into the kitchen, my dad is settled at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. There hasn't been a morning that I don't remember him in the same place. He lifts his head above the paper and watches while I start coffee and breakfast.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing. I can't look at my beautiful daughter?"

I shake my head, a little embarrassed at his compliment. I'm not sure I would call myself beautiful just rolling out of bed.

"You have a doctor's appointment this afternoon." Anything to take the attention off me.

"I haven't forgotten, and I'm sure you wouldn't let me anyways."

Keegan walks into the kitchen at that moment, looking perfect and I may hate him a little for it.

"What time?"

"It's at one, but you don't need to come. I know you must need to return your messages."

Yes, I noticed how often you've ignored your text messages and phone calls. You can't ignore them, even if they are from the one person I can't stand
.

He looks at me and I can tell he wants to argue.

"Are you sure?" he asks, seeking my approval.

"Of course. We'll be fine." I smile reassuringly.

Keegan walks over and grabs my head with one hand, pulling me in for a kiss. It's an aggressive gesture, yet the action is intimate. I feel the kiss right down to my toes.

"I'm going to call Kaleb; let me know if you need me for anything."

"Okay." I nod.

I watch him walk into the other room and turn the corner, out of my sight.

"Breakfast isn't going to make itself."

I turn quickly, ignoring my dad's comment, and make breakfast.

***

Things remain fairly quiet during the morning. My dad rests while I take care of things around the house and tidy up. Keegan is scarce; whenever we cross paths he's busy on his computer or phone.

I stay out of his way, even though I'm curious about who he's talking to. I know he's been ignoring Gretchen's calls, and I half expect her to show up here to drag him back to her lair. I haven't brushed our conversation about her under the rug, because whenever I think about her being pregnant my stomach drops and I am nauseous.

The doctor's appointment goes well, and I'm relieved that the doctor's outlook on my dad's condition is positive. When we get back home, Keegan's rental car is gone. I'm surprised that he didn't let me know he was leaving. I know he'll be back, since all his things are still here.

I don't have much time to think before there is a knock at the door. Frank, a friend of my father's, has stopped by to see him. Apparently my dad told him that he was going stir crazy with me hovering. They end up chatting and playing cards.

Frank and my dad have been friends for years; they met at the local legion hall. I think with both of them being widowers they found an easy friendship with one another.

I decide to let them catch up and take a drive around town. I grab my dad's car keys and head out. Driving through town, I pass the college and Benjamin's Restaurant. There are a few people milling around town, and some students carrying their backpacks. Growing up in a college town was always interesting. It was exciting with all the people, but once winter and summer breaks hit, it was like a ghost town. I always enjoyed the quiet.

I find myself driving farther away from the middle of town. The sun is now covered with clouds. The trees that line the road are swaying in the wind. A hint of a storm is in the air. I think of turning around, not wanting to be caught in the storm, but it's too late because up ahead is a familiar old farm.

I turn the car down the dirt road that I didn't remember being so bumpy. I sit in the car for at least ten minutes, gripping the steering wheel.

I tell myself I should just turn around and go home. I probably shouldn't be here by myself. It could be dangerous. Whatever, that's not going to stop me.

I follow the path leading down the hill. My heart skips a beat when I notice the castle, or at least the makings of one. As I get closer, I can see the bricks forming the outside structure aren't uniform. They are all different colors and shapes, reds, greens, and blues that shimmer even in the dim light. The entire surface of the house looks to be complete, and I'm curious what it looks like inside. Will there be gardens on top? A greenhouse, maybe? The possibilities are endless. This spot is perfect to build. Far enough away from the center of town, nestled behind tall trees.

I am in front of the stone fountain that has a beautiful sculpture of a goddess. I run my hands along the edge of the walls, imagining it filled with water and lit up against the castle.

I travel up the front steps; when I finally reach the top, I'm winded. Turning around, I can see the landscape in front of me. I picture stables, and white horses. I've wanted horses since I was a little girl. All part of my childhood fantasies.

The entrance has a huge unfinished wooden door. I run my hand down the smooth door, and turn the doorknob. Of course, it's locked. As I'm ready to give up, I remember a little trick I learned years ago. Reese had taught me how to pick a lock; she said every journalist must know the trick, for investigative purposes. I'm pretty sure she used the skill to snoop on her ex.

I run back to my car where I find my purse and pull out a bobby pin. It's one of the things in the bottomless pit of a bag. You just never know when one will come in handy. I make it back to the door and insert the pin, doing exactly what I was taught. At first, it doesn't work. My determination wins and after about five minutes of working it, I feel the click of the lock. Yes. I'm in. I slowly push open the door and enter. The smell of sawdust is all around me, and I step onto a white marble floor. There are a series of brass wall sconces on the walls. Looking up, there are several different levels. This design is impeccable, and I just take it all in.

I walk into a connecting room. The room is gigantic, and there is a massive fireplace that Santa would envy opposite a row of windows that go on for miles. I walk around the plastic-draped room, dodging several sawhorses surrounded by an array of different tools. I walk the perimeter of the room, running my fingers along the top of the mantle, then wipe off the dust on the front of my jeans. I reach the row of windows and the glass isn't like any I've seen.

I can see the fireplace in the window's reflection. Outside, I envision snow-covered trees with a blanket of glimmering snow on the ground. A fire roaring, a magnificent Christmas tree decorated with ornaments and garland. Two small dark-haired children, a boy and a girl, opening gifts that have been wrapped with care. It's a beautiful scene, one I want to photograph.

An emotion that is neither sadness nor happiness escapes me, and as tears come to the surface I hold them back, deciding there will be no tears shed in this beautiful place, and certainly not when I am daydreaming of something that hasn't occurred.

I make my way through the building, and even have to backtrack a couple times when I get lost in the maze of spacious rooms. I wish I could look at the blueprints to learn what each one's purpose is. That may be asking too much though.

I can't help but feel like an intruder. Keegan is building my fantasy, and I'm sad. I would have given anything to see ground broken on this. This eventually will be his vision, a promise he made to me when we were children. He told me he was going to build me a castle, and what he's accomplished here must have taken months, been conceived long before we reentered each other's lives. It's possibly even years in the making.

"God, what am I going to do?" I whisper. Should I pinch myself, am I dreaming? It feels like it.

I find myself in front of a set of stairs covered in a paint-covered tarp. I discover that the rooms have been painted recently. I'm careful while climbing each step. They are sturdy as I reach the top. There are two more sets of stairs on each side of me. I'm reminded of the moving staircases from
Harry Potter.
I'm in need of the Marauder's Map, then I would know which is the safe way to go, if there is any at all.

I go with my gut and go to the left. Looking down as I reach the top is extraordinary. I'm not an expert, but Keegan is one talented architect.

A draft leads me to a set of open double doors. I enter into a room the outside wall is lined by windows. A set of French doors lead to a wide terrace. This must be some type of ballroom, what castle doesn't have one of those right? I laugh at the thought; I'm in a freaking castle that I inspired. Well, at least that's what I hope.

I'm in the center of the room and do one of those turns that make you dizzy. When I look up, my breath is stolen from me. An exquisite chandelier that appears to made of crystal, colors of the rainbow reflect from above me. I could stare at its beauty all day. This would be the perfect place to hold a wedding, and I think of Reese and her upcoming nuptials. Kaleb didn't waste any time, and asked her during a dinner with their parents while they were still in the city. I'm sad I missed the whole thing.

I make my way to the terrace, built from the same material as the fountain. Coincidently, I am right above it. I look over the edge, surveying what's below.

Even under construction, I don't want to leave this magnificent place. I think this may have been a bad idea; I should have pushed my stupid curiosity out of my head. I believe I haven't even made a dent in what this fortress holds. I think my heart is going to want to stay here forever.

"Trespassing, Aimee."

Busted. How did he find me? He always shows up when I least expect him to. I turn and locate the deep voice. Keegan is standing with his arms folded, leaning on the inside of the door. He looks relaxed in his jeans and long-sleeved gray t-shirt.

I stare at him, not knowing what to say, because I'm clearly caught and my little expedition ends here.

"You caught me." What else can I say?

"If you wanted a tour all you had to do is ask. I was surprised when the alarm to the property notified me. "

Of course there is an alarm. It's not a coincidence he is here. I'm embarrassed.

I've been caught.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I'll just be leaving. I'm sure my dad is wondering where I-I am," I stutter.

I try to make a quick getaway, but Keegan is blocking the doorway. When I try to squeeze by him he grabs my wrist, stopping my escape.

He locks his eyes on mine, and I turn my head away from his stare.

"Hey, look at me," he says softly in my ear. There isn't much distance between us, and it's adding to my nerves.

I do as he says while he holds my wrist. He's leaving a scorching hot handprint around it.

"I was just at the house looking for you. Your dad is fine. He and Frank are watching a game on television."

I relax a little, but still need to leave. I try to pull away, and he isn't loosening his grip.

"Where's the fire, Aimee, or are you just running away from me?"

I let out a deep breath. We are so close, intimately close.

"I'm not running," I whisper.

"So if I let you go, you won't take off."

He's right; I do want to get out of here. This whole place has hit me hard; emotionally I'm ready to tell him I don't care about Gretchen, or his career. We can live here together happily ever after. Then the other part envisions it as a fairy tale, a fictional story.

"You know it isn't anywhere near midnight. Your car isn't going to turn into a pumpkin, but one thing is true: I will chase you. I want to show you around a little, okay?"

I nod as my heart starts beating wildly. His grip on my hand loosens, and he entwines my fingers with his. My palm is sweaty, and I'm sure he knows the effect he has on me. If I let go of his hand and just run away, would he chase me? He said he would, but would that make me happy?

He leads me down several corridors. I realize that even if I were able to escape, I wouldn't be able to find my way out. Getting lost in this house doesn't scare me; just the opposite. It excites me.

We stop at two ginormous wooden doors, and I smell fresh cedar. He opens the doors and much like the last room, there are windows and a terrace on the far wall. This room is warm and inviting. The ceiling above us is sculpted like a work of art.

I walk toward the windows, where there is a perfect view of the forest below. This is the most beautiful and secluded spot.