Page 77 of Bountiful
Ilovedit.
But I hadn’t said so yet. Because I was still trying to wrap my head around the idea of moving into a house that Dave had purchased. I’d never been the kind of girl who’d clipped photos of her dream house. But somehow I was standing in it, anyway. I’d always been the type who’d clipped pictures of the dream guy,instead.
He was here, too. But not really. He was offering to mend my bank balance, but not myheart.
“What do you think?” Dave asked me when Mrs. Godfrey finally stopped talking. “It’s okay if you can’t decide today. I can give the contractor a deposit and send him home. You could take a few days to thinkitover.”
Mrs. Godfrey stared at me, waiting for an answer. But I didn’t like the pressure. So I stared her down until she got the message, saying, “I’ll leave you twotochat.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I said when she finally walked away. “I was doing all right onmyown.”
He didn’t call me on the lie. He just parked his hip against the doorframe to the dining room and sighed. “I never said you weren’t doing okay. But it’s easy for me to help you like this. I’d feel better knowing you had a plan for the coming year. And, hey, your brothers think this town is a good investment. They said so several times onSunday.”
I blinked at him.An investment. It sounded so clinical. Not that Ishouldcare.
But that was the whole problem. I did care. He was standing about four feet away, and I could smell his woodsy scent and see the faded freckles at hishairline.
He wasright there. And it wastorture.
Since the moment he’d reappeared, I’d been trying to figure out what the future held. Would he leave again on August first, and not show his face for another few years? That was completely possible. He wanted to set us up in this house like a sea captain setting off for his next adventure. He could ship out without worrying too much about us. Heck, if only the house had a widow’s walk in the attic, I could stand up there and watch for him, like a freakingloser.
I’d never wanted to be like my mother, damn it. She’d spent my childhood watching for signs, the way other people watched the weather. If my father brought her flowers, maybe he planned to stickaround.
Dave wanted to buy a house for me to live in. Was thatmoreencouraging than flowers,orless?
Fuck.
“I want to pay rent,” I said, swallowing hard. Because he definitely hadn’t thought this through. What if, a year from now, I met someone who really wanted to be with me? It wasn’t completely impossible—at least I liked to think so. Living in Dave’s house rent free would make me beholden to him. I needed nice, cleanboundaries.
Clearly I should have thought about that before we’d gotten naked and had mostly-but-not-always-protectedsex.
“We can work something out,” he said, and I couldn’t help but think it sounded patronizing. “Which house are you leaningtowards?”
“Are the prices the same?” Iasked.
He shrugged. “Close enough. One’s cheaper, but needs more work. It’s probably a wash. Do you want to tour the other one again? I could keep Mrs. Chattypants awayfromyou.”
The nickname made me smile in spite of myself. “I don’t have time, but it doesn’t matter. Both houses are fine, of course. But these brick fireplaces are yellingmyname.”
“They’re pretty cool, right?” He smiled at me, and I felt it everywhere. “I’m going to catch the contractor before he drives away. Meet meoutside?”
“Allright.”
His footsteps echoed in the empty house. After he left, I did another slow tour of the front parlor, with its inlaid wooden flooring. I passed the fireplace that made me want to curl up in front of it with a book. Then I walked slowly up the staircase. It was a bit narrow and steep. I’d need a baby gate for a little while, until Nicole was big enough to handle thestairs.
There was a big, sunny bedroom I’d give to my little girl, so she’d have a nice place to play with her toys. And the rear bedroom looked out on a big oak tree and a yard with a picket fence around it and lilac bushes alongtheback.
I wanted to live here, damn it. But not as Dave’s pity case. I wanted to buy a house with a man who couldn’t wait to fuck me in front of that fireplace while the baby slept upstairs. A guy who’d stand in the kitchen with me on Sunday mornings drinking coffee and makingpancakes.
I might as well wish for a pony and front-row tickets toPearlJam.
And I really did need to get back to work. My brother Damien might have scared all the customers away by now. When I traipsed down the front steps, I was ready to tell Dave that I would like to live in the Tudor if I could make a meaningful contribution to thecosts.
However.
By the time I got outside, Mrs. Godfrey was adding an “Under Contract” label to the sign in the front yard of theotherhouse. And just like that, bitch mode was reactivated. Dave hadn’t even waited for me to decide? Whodoesthat?
“Who does what?” Dave asked, turning to watch me storm across the yard. So I must have said italoud.
