Wish You Were Here (4 page)

Piper
’s face suddenly froze up hard, and Freya realized what she’d said.

“
Maybe I didn’t say that right. What I mean is—”

“
Yeah, explain,” a voice cut in from behind her. “I didn’t quite catch all of that.”

Freya swiveled around to see the dark form of Nate Brody standing on the dock, his arms crossed over his chest and his face taut. She felt like a kid getting caught
after curfew, and she didn’t like the feeling. She stood up and held her hand out to pull Piper up to standing. Nate glanced past Freya at Piper.

“
Since when do you ride down to the lake without telling me?”

“
I was with an adult.”

“
She’s not an adult,” Nate said.

“
Pardon me?” Freya said.

Nate gave her a dull look,
then shifted his glance back to his daughter. “She’s a guest. Guests are not babysitters.”

“
I’m not a baby!” Piper shouted, but instantly shifted a little behind Freya as she caught her father’s dark look.

“
C’mon, Nate—” Freya started but, on catching an intense look of warning from Nate, thought better of it and shut up.

“
Piper,” Nate said, his voice hard and even, “you get on that bike and go back to the house.
Now
.”

Piper slid out from behind Freya and stamped down the dock toward her bike. Nate watched her go, obviously waiting to unload on Freya until Piper was out of earshot.

Panic built in Freya’s gut as they waited; how the hell was she going to fix this to the point where negotiations could start? The worst part—she was better than this. She’d been better than
this
when she’d first started working for her father as a freakin’ intern.

What the hell had happened to her?

Piper rode out of sight, and Nate turned on Freya, his eyes dark. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“
Look, just let me explain—”

“
You don’t have kids, do you?”

Anger rose, pushing the panic aside, and her jaw clenched tight against it.
“No, but—”

He advanced on her, his voice rising.
“Maybe you don’t understand how these things work, but you don’t just run off with someone else’s kid without telling them.”

“
Hey
,”
Freya said, advancing on him in turn. “First of all, I didn’t come looking for your kid. She asked me to ride bikes, and for all I knew, she got your permission first. And maybe I don’t know much about kids, but I’ll tell you one thing—if it was my kid, I’d listen to her so that she didn’t have to grab some random stranger just to have someone to talk to.”

Never get personal. Always be friendly.
Freya swallowed as she remembered the two most basic rules of negotiation. Less than twelve hours, and she’d managed to violate both of them with Nate Brody. If someone under her had ever screwed a deal up that badly that fast, she’d fire her on the spot. The anger seeped away from her and she turned her suddenly exhausted mind to her only tool left—walking away before she could screw anything else up.

“
I have to go,” she said, her voice cracking. Nate’s face softened and he opened his mouth to say something, but she pushed past him and ran down the dock. She hopped on the bike and rode it back fast, her limbs shaking as she pumped harder, speeding through the woods back up to the cabins, a host of emotions running through her so fast she couldn’t even recognize them all. Had she gone crazy? Riding bikes with some kid when she should be preparing for a negotiation... that wasn’t like her.

But then,
she
wasn’t like her, and hadn’t been for a while.

Feeling a bit calmed from the exercise, she put the bike back at the office and walked to her cabin, where she saw that the stupid railing pieces had been roughly nailed back into place. She stared at it for a moment, focusing all her anger and frustration on the hasty workmanship.

Great job,
she thought.
You got a hell of a craphole here, Brody.

Then she walked inside and found a vase of fresh-picked wildflowers on the coffee table next to a box of Kleenex. A yellow sticky note was fixed at the base of the flowers:
Will be back to really fix the railing tomorrow. Be careful.
—
N.

“
I was right,” Freya said, ripping open the box as the first tear slid down her cheek. “Boys are stupid.”

She grabbed her purse, withdrew her cell phone and dialed her father
’s office. Of course, despite the late hour, he answered on the second ring.

“
Richard Daly.”

“
You really want this place?” she asked, then sniffled.

“
Freya?” There was a pause. “You’re not crying again, are you?”

“
No.” She crumpled up the tissue and tossed it into the garbage can in the corner. “I asked you a question. Do you want this place?”
Say no, change your mind, because I’ve already fucked this up beyond recognition and this guy is never going to sell to me.

“
Yes, you know I want it, Freya.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to work up the will to finish this thing. She
’d had a killer instinct; it was just a matter of finding it again.

“
Freya?” her father said in the silence. “Are you still there?”

Barely.
“How much can I offer?”

“
Have you talked the owner into selling?” he asked, surprise in his voice.

“
No. And thanks for the heads-up that he already said no, by the way.”

Her father sighed.
“That information was in the documentation I gave you.”

Great. Add that to her list of
screwups. “Whatever. Look, he’s planning on moving, so if he doesn’t already have an offer, he’s looking. He’s probably just playing hard to get, waiting for the best deal. I can do some research tomorrow morning, but if I need to hop on an opportunity, I just want to know how long a rope I have to hang us with.”

“
Two million dollars.”

Freya sat up straight, her heart pounding.
“What—seriously? This place isn’t worth half that.”

“
Then it should be easy to close the deal.”

Right.
Easy
. Except it didn’t make even the tiniest bit of sense. She ran her hand through her hair and took a deep breath. “Dad, what am I doing here? We shouldn’t even be buying this place at all, but that kind of money—”

“
I didn’t send you out there to advise me,” he said. “I sent you out there to make the deal. So make it.”

There was a click on the line. She held the phone out and stared at it.
“What? No pony?”

She flipped the phone shut, tossed it onto the coffee table, and lay back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.
Two million dollars. For this place. Good thing the man was retiring; he was obviously insane.

On the bright side, it was almost over. There was no way Nate Brody could possibly turn down an offer like that for land like this. She
’d be on her way back home tomorrow afternoon at the latest.

She grabbed the afghan off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around herself, then spoke to the phone on the coffee table.

“Every girl should have a pony, you know.”

Then she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

***

Ruby Vane heard the front door slam, followed by thumping footsteps, but by the time she ducked her head out of her bedroom door, all she saw was Piper
’s bedroom door slamming shut. There was no sign of Nate yet. She gently shut her door and locked it, then lifted up the rug on her bedroom floor, counted the wide oak floorboards until she hit the right one, and pushed her foot down on one end until the other end popped up. She grabbed it with her hands, set it aside, and then sat down cross-legged next to the hole in the floor. She reached down into the opening and withdrew the big, plastic, purple ladies’ tackle box. She set it on her lap and ran her fingers over it, then slowly undid the latch and opened it. In the deepest part of the box was a dinner plate wrapped in cellophane. Taped to it was a yellowed piece of paper with
Deliver to the Boise Police
scratched on it in Mick’s jagged hand.

She reached in and picked it up. Through the aged
cellophane she could see it was kinda ugly. Ornate gold trimmed the scalloped edges. The rim was a deep pinkish purple, and in the center was an eagle with its wings spread out as it stood on a shield sporting the stars and stripes.

“
Ugh.” She turned it over and read the gold imprint on the back again. “Haviland and Company. Lime-o-gees.” She set it back down in the tackle box. “Huh.”

She had no idea what it meant, what it was, or why it had been so important to Mick that Nate
find it and bring it to the authorities. All she knew was that as long as the box stayed hidden, Nate and Piper would remain in Deer Creek, and Ruby wouldn’t have to leave her home. And, yeah, Mick’s dying wish went unfulfilled, but she could live with that.

“
Sorry, babe,” Ruby said quietly as she shut the box. “Payback’s a bitch.”

She tucked it back into the floor, replaced the board, an
d moved the rug back into place.

Three

Nate
spent most of his morning run trying to figure out exactly how he was going to apologize to Freya. The look on her face after he’d unloaded on her made him feel like shit. He had no right taking his panic out on her; Piper was his responsibility, and if he couldn’t keep tabs on her, it certainly wasn’t Freya’s fault. The truth was, he hadn’t even been
that
panicked; when Piper got upset, she always went either to the office or to the lake, and he’d been pretty sure he’d find her there. What had really thrown him for a loop was finding his baby girl getting advice on boys from Freya Daly.

That
had kept him up all night.

Even so, when Nate emerged from the path in the woods to see Freya—wearing a well-tailored gray pinstripe power suit and heels that could perform an appendectomy—
beelining toward his office, his first instinct was to avoid her. He slowed to a jog and thought briefly about ducking back into the woods, but her eyes locked on him and he was stuck. He bent over to stretch a bit as she changed course; he had a feeling it couldn’t hurt to limber up before this interaction.

“
Good morning, Nate.” Her posture was ramrod-straight, her hair pulled back tight. In her right hand, she clutched a briefcase. Her smile seemed calculated, almost stiff, and his guard went up.

“
Morning, Freya.”

They stared at each other for a moment,
then she said, “I’d like to start by apologizing about last night. It didn’t occur to me that Piper hadn’t asked you first. I wasn’t t
hinkin
g.”

“
I appreciate that,” he said, feeling oddly formal, “but it wasn’t your fault. I was out of line, talking to you like that. I’m sorry.”

She gave a small nod.
“That’s very kind, but really, I should have—”

“
No, it’s fine,” he said. They stared at each other, silence fueling the awkwardness, and Nate wondered what the hell was going on. This woman in front of him was all sharp angles and cold agendas, nothing like the warm, vulnerable woman he’d yelled at yesterday, and suddenly he wanted to be cleaned up and in a suit before trying to get an apology past her.

“
Well,” he said, shifting toward the house. “I should probably go take a shower.”

“
Wait,” she said, stepping a bit closer. “I think we got this whole thing off on the wrong foot yesterday, and I was hoping I might be able to take you out to breakfast this morning.”

“
Um,” Nate said, not sure if he was more amused or surprised by this turn of events. “No. That’s not necessary. Just… enjoy your stay. When are you planning on checking out, by the way?”

He realized that h
ad come off a little rude, but Freya only smiled wider.

“
Actually, that kind of depends on you,” she said.

“
Right,” he said. “Look, I told you. I’m not selling. It’s a waste of your time.”

“
Why don’t you let me be the judge of what wastes my time?” She pulled the briefcase in front of her, using both hands to hold the handle, looking a bit like a little girl with a treasured lunch box on the first day of school. It was cute as hell.

“
All right,” he said. “We can talk, I guess. But there aren’t many places around here that are…” He searched for a word that wouldn’t make him sound like a food snob, but gave it up. “The food in this town is total crap.”

“
Wow,” she said. “Way to support the locals.”

“
There was a decent diner in the next town for a while, but a McDonald’s moved in next door and they closed down. And the other places here I’ve been to weren’t great, to be honest.”

“
Well, let me take you out to coffee, then,” she said, taking another step closer. “It’s hard to screw up coffee, isn’t it? And I don’t think this will take long at all.”

He was suddenly overcome with a desire to make this take as long as possible.
“Why don’t you come on up to the house and let me make you breakfast?”

“
Oh,” she said, looking a little surprised by the offer. “I kind of wanted to talk to you alone. Since this is a business discussion.”

“
Well,” he said, suddenly determined to win at least this part of the negotiation, “Ruby’s in the office and Piper’s not speaking to me, so she went along with her. We’ll be alone.”

“
Oh.” Her posture softened as she glanced toward the house, then back to him. “I just wanted to keep things… you know. Professional.”

Her eyes met his, and she was back, the vulnerable woman he
’d met yesterday. He smiled, hoping to keep this Freya in play. “I can charge you if you want.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, but her eyes were bright with amusement.
“Are you making fun of me?”

“
A little.”

“
All right. Fine.” She nibbled her lip a little, and it took Nate a moment to meet her eye again.

“
Great.” He motioned toward the path that led to the house. “It’s just through here, beyond the trees.”

They started down the path in silence, Nate following behind her and wondering a little what he
’d just gotten himself into, but not caring much.

***

Freya picked a grape off the bunch that Nate had set out on the breakfast bar for her and closed her eyes as the cool juices shot into her mouth. The sounds of the shower had stopped a few minutes before, and she could hear his feet pounding through the hallway. She grabbed one more grape and popped it into her mouth.

“
These are amazing,” she said when he appeared in the kitchen. “I don’t think we have grapes like these in Boston.”

“
If you’ve got a farmers’ market, you’ve got them,” he said, grabbing a plain white bistro apron off the wall and tying it around his waist. “You just have to get out of the supermarkets, start buying fresh.”

Freya nodded, as though she had the slightest idea where a farmers
’ market might be. Her entire pantry at her apartment consisted of two cans of tuna, a few packets of Crystal Light lemonade, and menus for all the takeout places within a one-mile radius. But for now, she needed to make nice with Nate Brody, present the offer, get the deal done, and get gone.

“
So,” Nate said, his head deep in the open refrigerator. “How do you feel about goat cheese in your omelet?”

“
Very good,” she said. “I feel like I should offer to help, but I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

“
Everyone says that,” he said, his head still in the fridge, “but they’re never as bad as they think they are.” He popped up, arms full with a hunk of cheese in Saran Wrap, a clear plastic package containing six brown eggs, and something green and leafy. He shut the fridge door with a quick kick.

“
No, no, I’m as bad as I think I am,” Freya said. “I once set a pot of boiling water on fire.” He stopped and looked at her, and she held up her hand in an oath. “Scout’s honor, I’m useless in the kitchen.”

“
Oh, well. Now you just sealed your own fate.” Nate unloaded his ingredients onto the counter, then reached behind him and grabbed another apron off the wall. He tossed it at her and she barely managed to catch it before it hit her in the face.

“
And what am I supposed to do with this?” she asked.

“
Put it on. You’re cooking breakfast.”

She laughed out loud and threw the apron back at him.
“Funny.”

He tossed it back, eyebrows
raising in challenge. “Not kidding.”

She watched him for a bit, decided he was serious, and stood up to show off her suit.
“This is Ann Taylor.”

“
Hence the apron.”

He walked over to her, expertly slid the jacket off her shoulders and laid it on the stool next to her. Then he grabbed the apron and slid his arms around her waist.

“I’m not sure…” she said, feeling oddly out of breath with him so close. He smelled like the hot shower he’d just stepped out of, and it was making her a little dizzy. “I… um… oh!” she said as he cinched the apron tightly around her waist and tied it, his hands floating over her body expertly, making her flush a bit at the sudden odd intimacy. “I… don’t…”

“
Yeah?” he said, then he took her left arm, undid the button at her wrist and began rolling up her blouse sleeve. “You got a full sentence in there somewhere?”

She didn
’t. His movements were strong, confident, professional, and her skin was starting to feel hot as his hands worked over her. He finished with her right sleeve, then stood back and took her in.

“
Perfect,” he said, his eyes raising to meet hers. He swallowed quickly then stepped back, motioning toward the stove in invitation.

Freya hesitated.
“You’re serious?”

“
Yep.”

“
Look, I’m not being modest. I really can’t cook.”

“
People think they can’t cook because they burned one meal and quit.” He jerked his head toward the stove. “I’ll watch over you the whole time, tell you exactly what to do.” He met her eye again. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“
I’m not afraid,” Freya said.

He smiled.
“Prove it.”

She stared at him for a moment,
then decided to concede. It’d soften him up for negotiations later, presuming she didn’t burn the house down, which was a minimal risk if he was right there watching over her.

“
All right.” She popped one last grape into her mouth and scooted around the breakfast bar into the kitchen.

She stopped in front of the stove and he angled himself behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. He pointed to a knob on the stove.
“Turn that to medium.”

Freya reached tentatively toward the knob and turned it. It clicked a few times, a sharp tang hit her nose, and then the gas hissed on, all
flickery and blue. “Oooh, pretty.”

“
Tell me you’ve seen a gas stove before.”

“
Up close? No.”

“
Hell
,”
he said under his breath. He stepped aside, grabbed a large pan off the wall, and handed it to her. “Okay, let’s get this frying pan on, let it heat up a bit.”

She took it and put it down over the fire.
So far, so good.

He shifted to her right and started dealing with the green leafy stuff, then reached with one hand, grabbed a white plastic squeeze bottle and handed it to her.
“Here. Put a couple turns of olive oil in the pan.”

He ran the green leafy stuff under the water, and Freya looked at the bottle, hoping for something on it that would explain what a
“couple turns” was. Unfortunately, the bottle was blank. Nate was already dicing the cheese before he noticed she was standing there, frozen.

“
Everything okay?”

She turned to him.
“A couple turns? What does that mean?”

He wiped his hands on the apron and put his hand over hers.
“Turn it over, squeeze it, and run your hand in a circle twice, like you’re tracing the numbers on a clock.” She did as told, trying not to jump back as the oil hit the pan and sizzled. From behind her, Nate guided her hand around in two efficient circles, then let her go.

“
Couple turns,” he said, then went back to where he’d been working. He held up a handful of the green stuff. “Spinach.” He tossed it in the pan, so much that it was almost overflowing. She barely had time to ask what was next before he put a wooden spoon in her hand. “Stir it around. It’ll cook down, and then we’ll add the eggs and the cheese.”

She stirred, and next to her, he whizzed around the kitchen like an expert. He diced the cheese with a speed that made her a little nervous, then cracked a bunch of eggs into a bowl, whipped them up, and seasoned them with salt and pepper. Then he wiped his hands on his apron and walked over behind her, his expression relaxed and happy as he observed her work.

“Good job.” He lowered the flame a bit, then poured the egg mixture in over her spinach. He handed Freya the cheese cubes. “Sprinkle these on top.”

Freya did as told, trying to get them evenly into the eggs. She wiped her hands on her apron and said,
“Now what?”

“
Now, we wait for a minute.”

“
Okay.” She looked down at the eggs. It felt weird to just stand there. She raised her wooden spoon. “Should I…?”

“
No.” He put his hand on hers and lowered it. “Sometimes the hard part is doing nothing.”

She turned a bit to look at him. Their eyes met and held, and then he said,
“Now.”