Page 48 of Forty and Fighting Dirty
PIPER
I stoodat the kitchen sink in the house that I half owned, staring out at the gigantic backyard that my kids would probably never play in. The boys were with a friend from Alec’s class, whose mom had been so generous as to offer to watch the two of them when I explained that I wanted to take a closer look at the house. I thought she might be angling to get the first scoop on the town’s hottest gossip (me, Rhett, and the house), but I appreciated the offer nonetheless.
It was a rare moment of stillness for me. It felt like ever since Jacob and I had decided to divorce, I’d been out in the open ocean with no sight of land in any direction. I had to fight to keep the boys on even keel, fight to keep myself from capsizing completely. I was always rushing around to keep all of us fed, clothed, and sane.
But right now, for a moment, I stood at the sink and mourned what could have been.
In another universe, maybe I would’ve fought for the house and won. Maybe I would’ve been able to take out a mortgage on it to pay the tax and repairs, and I could’ve set down roots in this town. Real roots, the kind that stood the test of time. The kind that clung to a mountainside and withstood harsh winter wind and feet of powdery snow.
As always, I’d been half a step behind, though, and I’d been too scared to walk into yet another courtroom facing a man with more money, connections, and resources than I could ever hope to have. So I had to settle for a quiet moment of what-could-have-beens, inhaling the musty, closed air of a house that would never be my home.
Gratitude was hard to find, even though I knew I should try. I’d won half a house. Even after all was said and done, I would be farther ahead than if I hadn’t won it.
The metal of the big chrome sink was cool against my hands, and I let them run all the way to the edge of the laminate countertop. My nails made a hollow sound when I drummed them against the surface, and I worried at the peeling edge where water had ruined the counter.
It wasn’t a perfect house—not by a long shot—but there was something about it that was romantic. I loved it more than I wanted to admit. Under the stairs, there was an adorable little cubbyhole that the boys would’ve loved to transform into a fortress. There was a silly nook in the powder room, where two walls didn’t quite join at the right angle. I’d put a piece of art there, something to make guests laugh. The porch creaked. The yard was overgrown.
And the front door squealed like a stuck pig when it opened.
I turned, heart leaping, crossing the creaking floorboards so I could look down the long, narrow hallway to the foyer.
His back was to me, broad shoulders blocking out most of the light from the street outside, but I knew that messy, tousled black hair anywhere. Rhett closed and locked the door, then turned—and looked at me.
“You’re here,” he said.
For some reason, my heart began to thump. “I’m here,” I replied, and since we were stating the obvious, I added, “So are you.”
The house creaked and squeaked around him as he stepped down the hallway, shadows from the wall sconces dancing as he made his way toward me. He ducked his head to pass through the low door into the kitchen and came to a stop just a couple of feet away from me.
Every time we were apart, I forgot just how big he was. He loomed over me, all brawn and good looks, those dark eyes scanning over me like he could read my secrets written in every line of my body. I crossed my arms and hugged myself, turning my gaze away.
I sensed the moment his eyes moved off me. It felt like a cloud passing over the sun. He stepped deeper into the kitchen and crossed toward the fridge, putting more space between us.
“I saw your ideas for the seating arrangements in the lodge,” he said, referring to an email I’d sent him at the end of the workday.
“The previous designer hadn’t considered everyone wearingsnowsuits and ski gear,” I said, feeling slightly defensive. “On paper, it looks like I’ve removed some seating, but it’s actually more efficient to add the banquettes. At least half the seats would’ve been unusable with the previous design. Besides, the upholstery will be simpler this way, which will help Eric Nash finish everything on time.”
“I know,” he replied, leaning against the counter. “It was good thinking.”
I gulped. “Oh.”
“Not to mention the good PR of supporting local businesses.”
So he’d noticed that too. I dipped my chin. His eyes looked black in this light, and even with him at the opposite side of the kitchen, it felt too close. My gaze slid away, and I considered the wallpaper border lining the tops of the walls all around the room. Lemons and leaves danced between green borders. The wallpaper was faded and off-color now, but it must have been bright and cheery when it was first installed.
If this place were mine, I would take that down—but I might paint the walls a soft yellow as a nod to the old owners. The window was east-facing, and the kitchen would be flooded with light in the morning. A very subtle yellow would feel homey and would lean into the warm tone of the cabinets. I shook the thought away, not wanting to get dragged into fantasies that would only be harder to give up the longer I imagined them.
“I ran some numbers this afternoon,” Rhett said as he turned to open one of the upper cabinets beside the window. He inspected the inside as I inspected him. His jacket lifted with his movements, revealing his trim hips and well-wornjeans. When he moved to jiggle the window latch, those jeans hugged a firm and powerful backside. Cheeks burning, I turned away.
I couldnotcheck out my boss’s butt. Not even when we co-owned a house. Definitely not when he was the most insufferable man I’d ever met.
Instead, my eyes drifted to the wall sconces in the hallway. Those I would keep. They were brass dulled with the patina of age, with silly little curlicues and pleated shades. Ridiculous, feminine, and pretty. “Numbers about what?” I asked in response to his comment.
“About this place.” His eyes were back on me. I could feel them like a physical touch all down my side.
My skin prickled into goosebumps, and I wrapped my cardigan tighter around me. “More bad news?”
“Not exactly.”
