“Renovating old homes is not about making them look new… it is about making new unnecessary.”—Ty McBride
“I’m going to restore the cabinets.”
His look was all too familiar, and one she was well versed in. “Those can’t be saved,” he clipped out. His hand ran over the chipped façade of cheap green paneling and the torn linoleum countertops. The knobs were busted, and the insides were torn up. “You told me you were getting rid of them. In fact, this whole kitchen is a problem. There’s not enough space for a table. Little storage, especially if we remove that wall.”
“I’ve been thinking about it all night.” Her irritation with him had finally faded enough and taken on another outlet. Since he refused to leave her side as her protector, she’d work him to death and satisfy her curiosity. It had a double bang effect since it would annoy the crap out of him. She’d been way too much of an easy target and he’d played her well a few days ago. Now, she’d gotten her composure back and realized his game.
She was going to play better.
Charlie bounced on her heels, channeling her favorite Pooh character, Tigger, and expounded on her brilliant idea. “You know all that wood I made you save from the basement?”
“The scraps I advised you to get rid of that are now cluttering up the yard?”
“Yes, those. I’m going to do a two-pronged approach. First, I’m keeping the top tier of cabinets because they’re the best of the worst. I’ll strip off the surface, put in new shelves and knobs, and paint them bright white.”
“Why don’t you get new ones?”
“Too expensive.”
“It still won’t be enough. You need to add bottom cabinets or the buyers will have nothing. It’ll devalue the house.”
“Ah, but I have a plan! I’m going to use the scrap wood from the basement and build them a corner cabinet here”— she pointed to the dead space on the end of the main counter—“and I’ll make all the counters a beautiful stained plank wood.”
He examined the space, his face doubtful. “You’re going to give it a farmhouse look? Doesn’t fit with the rest of the house.”
“Not done. I’m going to build a high-top counter from that old headboard I snatched from that amazing store—the Barn—and put in stools. It gives eating space, modernizes the kitchen, and keeps it from being too farm looking.”
He didn’t answer, taking in her suggestions with a seriousness she was getting used to. She understood now Brady needed time to process all her ideas. Her brain worked different, exploding into a riot of color and graphics she made sense of. He needed time and space before the vision took hold. These past few days had given her a better glimpse into his work habits. “Maybe.”
“Not done,” she sang, clapping her hands together and dancing to the back of the kitchen. “See this here? I’m going to take the two windows I’m tearing out and make them a built-in cupboard for the rest of their storage.”
He blinked. “You’re taking those awful windows and turning them into a cupboard?”
“Yes! I’ve done it before and it’s a great way to save money. We just have to make sure when we remove the windows we don’t chip or break around the frame.”
“I’ve never seen that done before. Won’t it look cheap?”
“No. I’ve been studying renovation with old materials for a while now. I can make it look seamless.”
“What about that dead wall?” He pointed to the massive empty space doing nothing but choking off the room. “There’s no painting or built-in that will make that wall look good. Especially when people are eating at the counter with nothing to look at.”
“I found the solution. I’m going to paint a graffiti design mural on it.”
She hugged herself with excitement, waiting him out. The seconds dragged into minutes. Finally, he gazed at her with an expression of pure horror.
“You’re kidding.”
“No! I’m going to paint a big-assed, gorgeous graffiti-type wall in the kitchen. Isn’t that genius? Brilliant?”
“You can paint? Graffiti?”
“Of course I can paint. You should see my apartment. I made these fabulous paintings out of old pizza boxes.”
“No, I mean you’re an artist-type painter? You studied art?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t actually study it, but I make things all the time and I know I can pull this off. What do you think?”
“I think you’ve officially lost your mind. If you’re stuck on this idea, hire a real artist.” He walked out of the kitchen, shaking his head. She followed him, refusing to be deterred.
“Too expensive. You need to think outside the box, Brady. I’m telling you, I can pull it off.”
“I believe you think you can, but I’ve never seen a house with a graffiti wall in the kitchen. Or old windows converted into cupboards.”
“It’s gonna be awesome. For now, I don’t want you worrying your pretty little head about it. We have a wall to take down and cabinets to work on.”
He glared. “I’m not worried. This is your world. I’m just living in it.”
“Cute. Let’s remove the last of the counter from the kitchen so we can put it with the scrap wood.”
They worked in silence for a while, the buzz of the saw and the slam of the hammer music to her ears. “I’ve decided it’s time you hold up your end of the bargain,” she said.
“I’m already working my ass off for you.”
“No, your list. For what you want in a woman. Have you graduated to date four yet?”
Irritation skittered across his features. She tried to tamp down her delight. “Not yet.” She waited him out, learning he liked to space out his responses. “I’m seeing her again this Friday,” he added grudgingly.
“Ooh, exciting. Okay, so tell me what floats your boat, Casanova.”
He shuddered. “God, please don’t call me that. Or talk like that.”
“Sorry, I forget you’re a bit high class.”
“No, I just speak proper English.”
“Stop stalling.”
He looked away but she caught the edge of a grin. He’d be loath to admit it, but she made him laugh. And from what she’d seen, this man desperately needed someone to balance all that seriousness. It must be exhausting.
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
She practically clapped her hands with glee. “The same question I answered. Tell me the traits in your perfect woman.”
His arms flexed as he worked the hammer, and her gaze snagged on the lean, sinewy muscles under gorgeous brown skin. Wood chips and dust clung to his figure but it only added to his attractiveness, giving a sense of ruggedness to his normal poised elegance. Yes, women would definitely seek him out for his appearance alone, but she wondered how many stayed after they got a dose of his attitude. He must be on his best behavior to trick them.
“I don’t know why you’re interested in this,” he muttered.
“Tit for tat.”
“It’s simple, really. I know exactly what I’m looking for. I’m ready to get married and have a family.”
“Right away?”
“Yes. My future wife will have a few core qualities that I won’t compromise on. Loyalty, honesty, and dual respect are at the top.”
She cocked her head, studying him. He’d managed to surprise her. “Very thoughtful. Excellent choices.”
“So glad you approve. I need a certain amount of intellectual stimulation, as I’m sure she will, so she cannot be just a pretty face.”
Huh. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. So far, she wholeheartedly agreed with his choices. “Can’t argue with those.”
“I don’t need laugh-out-loud funny, but a sense of humor helps get you through hard times.”
“Agreed.”
“And then she needs to obey, of course.”
The hammer swung. The wood cracked and he began pulling off the remains of the cabinet. She tugged on her earlobe. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you right. What was the last one?”
“Obey. She has to obey me. I’ll be the leader in the relationship, and she’ll need to respect my decisions.”
She pulled her lobe harder, but her sinking heart confirmed she’d heard correctly. “Did you say the word ‘obey’?”
“Yes.” He continued, oblivious to her sudden rising body temperature, pounding heart, and slow fist clench. “I’ll need to make the proper decisions on finances, but of course, she’ll be the primary with the children since she’ll be home with them all day.”
Her mouth opened and shut like a guppy. “What if she wants to work?”
“Oh, that’s not allowed. There will be too much to do running a tight household. Trust me. I’ve seen the way my mother and sisters handle their time, and you need to be quite organized. Dinner alone takes a chunk out of the day.”
Steam began to rise from her head. The room began to sway. “She’s going to have dinner ready for you when you come home?”
He grinned. Actually grinned with pleasure. “Of course. There’s nothing wrong with understanding and embracing the roles in a marriage. In fact, it’s quite a powerful, freeing thing. Society pushes both women and men to do too much crossover, which ends up breaking the relationship at the seams. I won’t have that problem in my marriage.”
Her voice sounded a few pitches too high when she managed to speak. “But what if you fall in love with a woman who doesn’t want to stay home all day with the children and finds fulfillment in her own career?”
He didn’t even pause. “Then she’s not for me.”
The hammer dropped out of her fingers with a crash. He swung his gaze around, frowning. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re a monster,” she whispered. “A chauvinist. A card carrying ego-driven prejudiced male!”
With a long-suffering sigh, he rose to his feet, brushing the dust off his jeans. “Are you going to throw another tantrum because my ideals don’t match yours? Who’s calling whom chauvinist?”
“You want a Stepford woman. What if she disagrees with you and doesn’t think your word is God? What will you do then? Beat her?”
His dark eyes flared with intensity. “If she wants me to,” he growled. “Nothing wrong with a good spanking now and then to reset things.”
Her stomach dropped at the same time her temper exploded. “My God, you’ve time traveled from another century and missed the sexual revolution. Women don’t obey, Brady. They are equal partners in a relationship.”
Irritation bristled from his form. “She will be my equal partner, but she’ll respect boundaries and trust I’m making the right decision for all of us.”
“That’s a dictatorship, not a marriage.”
He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “Hey, just because you’re too scared to fully trust and surrender to another person, don’t judge me. There’s power in submission.”
She snorted. “For you, maybe. What about her? Sounds like she has no say in anything, and that, buddy boy, is a foundation for a very unhealthy marriage.”
“Did you just call me Buddy Boy?”
She ignored his softly spoken warning, caught in sheer outrage for his future dates. “How early do you let your dates know what you’re really looking for? Do you try and seduce them first, then get them to agree? Do you play some Jedi mind tricks on them like on The Bachelor, to make them think they need to marry you at all costs? Does this woman you’re approaching a fourth date with know what she’s getting into?”
He leaned in, toe to toe with her. Her nostrils filled with his scent, a delicious musk reminding her of smoke and sex. He wasn’t particularly tall, but his solid, muscular build seethed with leashed power, making shivers trickle down her spine. His coal eyes held a savage gleam, and in that one moment, he seemed almost primeval. The air thickened with a low hum of electricity, as if preparing for a storm. She wanted to spurt more outraged accusations, but his gaze pinned her with a ruthless determination that suddenly made the breath whoosh from her lungs. Her breasts got achy and tight. A low throb pulsed between her legs.
What was going on?
He was pumping out sexual, dominant vibes she’d never caught before. He was cold. Controlled. A bit pompous. A businessman through and through, for goodness sakes. A tad boring. Where had all this hidden intensity come from? And why, oh why was she suddenly weirdly turned on?
“I only sleep with women who know exactly what I want and how I want it. I make sure there’s plenty of communication and agreement on both sides before moving forward. There have never been complaints and I expect none in the future.” A wolfish smile twisted his sensual lips. “Did you ever stop to wonder what it would feel like to let go of all that control, even for one night? Don’t you get tired of trying to do it all when so much pleasure is waiting for you on the other side?”
Oh, hell no. He wasn’t going to play her with those dark Latin eyes and hot body. She knew exactly what he was doing, and he’d be the last man on Earth she’d ever fall for. Ignoring her achy body, she rallied and fought back. Lifting her chin, she met his gaze head on. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I get plenty of pleasure without having to give up my independence and soul for an orgasm,” she said sweetly.
“Maybe you haven’t had the proper orgasm.” His gravelly voice caressed her ears, and those inky eyes burned like charcoal. “More specifically, orgasms. If a man is giving you just one, he’s plain lazy.”
Her heart thundered and her palms dampened. She didn’t even like the man but her body was strangely turned on with this hot sexual bantering. “Maybe you haven’t been introduced to the cutting edge technology they have available that removes a man from the equation,” she challenged. “My standards are already high. And multiples are already assumed.”
Irritation flickered over his features, along with another emotion she didn’t want to name. He moved a step closer. “You’re a bona fide brat who needs a bit of taming.”
“I’m not starring in The Taming of the Shrew. I still think that is the most sexist play ever created. Just tell me this. Does your date know exactly what’s expected of her yet, or do you keep that as one of your special surprises?”
“Don’t judge me, Charlotte, nor the women I spend my time with. At least I own my stuff and don’t try to pretend I’m someone I’m not.” His gaze raked over her figure. “I bet you still have no idea what type of man will truly satisfy you.”
“Who cares? I only know one important thing. It’ll never be you!”
They both stared at each other, caught in a powerful surge of energy that rooted her feet to the floor. She should be stomping away from him, but she couldn’t seem to look away. He was so close their breath intermingled, their lips inches apart. Perspiration broke out on her skin. Her breath strangled in her lungs. She waited for him to do something, say something, anything to break her out of this trance. He murmured a curse word, jaw clenched, and his hands snagged her upper arms, ready to shake her, and—
“Stop! Stop right there or I’ll bash your brains out, asshole!”
Brady jerked back and stuck his hands in the air. Charlie whirled around and found Jackson holding the baseball bat that was supposed to protect her. She smothered a groan. She had to get rid of that thing. Who would’ve thought it would end up being the ultimate weapon?
“Jackson, it’s okay. This is Brady and he works for me.”
The boy’s eyes were full of suspicion. He didn’t lower the bat, his gaze darting back and forth between them. “He was yelling at you. Grabbed you.”
“We’re coworkers and we fight a lot. I swear, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Brady kept his silence, hands up, and waited him out. A grudging respect came over her. She bet many men would have wanted to jump in to control the situation, especially with a teen. Brady let him lead. Slowly, Jackson put down the bat, a flush rising to his cheeks. “Sorry, man. I didn’t know what was going on.”
Brady lowered his hands and nodded. “Actually, that was pretty damn awesome. Just be careful of busting in on a scene that can get violent. Better to call 911 on your cell first before doing anything.”
“Uh, oh, did you call 911?” Charlie asked nervously.
“Nah. I should’ve thought about it. I went on instinct. Heard voices and the door was unlocked. Didn’t think about it until I saw the bat by the door.”
Brady muttered something under his breath. “I told you to get the deadbolt fixed,” he said to her.
She lifted a brow. “I did. You forgot to lock it behind you today.”
Jackson gave a half laugh. Brady chose to ignore her quip and walked toward the boy with his hand extended. “Don’t think we officially met. Brady.”
They shook hands. “Jackson.”
“You were the one crashing at this place?”
Jackson stiffened, but Brady was perfectly at ease, which seemed to relax the boy. “Yeah, wanted some time alone. Didn’t know anyone was around.” He shifted his weight, his hands clenching around the baseball bat. “Charlie said I could come by and check things out. Said she’d be tearing down a wall.”
Brady laughed. “Yep. That’s probably one of the most satisfying jobs in renovation. You wanna join us? We’re ripping it out tomorrow. Today, we’re focused on cabinets.”
“Cabinets sound boring.”
Charlie stepped forward. “Are you kidding me? It’s all about creativity. Seeing what’s not there yet and how you can make it different. It’s the only time you harness power through your own vision. Come see.”
Her tone brooked no argument. Jackson followed her in the kitchen, and she pointed out the half-ripped-out lower cabinets and the guts of plumbing, rotted wood, and empty space. “A good renovator takes this ugliness and sees something bigger. What do you see?”
He stared at her for a while before taking in the scene. “I see a mess.”
“Wanna know what I see?”
“What?”
She smiled and floated around the cramped, clutter-filled space. “Right here are beautiful distressed wood cabinets that give off a touch of an older farmhouse look. Think deep sinks, faded-type wood, rustic. Instead of fancy, modern granite, we’ll put in lighter wood counters for contrast, all from scrap wood. I’ll show you how to make it shine like a deeper grain by using coconut oil.”
“No shit?”
“No shit! Umm, does your mom let you curse? Probably not cool at your age. Girls don’t like when boys curse a lot either.”
“She doesn’t like it too much either.”
“Okay, so we won’t curse. Now, for the top cabinets, I’m going to strip off that crappy green—is crappy a curse word?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Crappy green and see what I can salvage. I think it would be cool to have the upper and lower cabinets not match. I’m thinking rustic wood on the bottom and white on top.”
Brady interrupted. “That sounds like a horror show.”
“My mom likes when things match,” Jackson said with a touch of worry. “I think most people do.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, but I swear I can pull this off. If I make it homey but with a bit of an edge, I think a family will fall in love with the house because it is different. Who wants a cookie-cutter house? Sometimes it’s like food. In your mind, certain ingredients don’t go together, but then when the flavors explode on your tongue, it makes sense.”
“True.” He nodded, squinting a bit as he took in the kitchen. “I still can’t really see it.”
“Takes a lot of practice. I’ll show you the steps if you can make it here after school. But no pressure, just come when you want.”
“Cool. Thanks.” He turned to Brady, still regarding him with a touch of suspicion. “Will you be here, too?”
“Yeah, I’m not crazy about Charlie working in this neighborhood alone, plus I like to renovate sometimes. I’m usually just an architect.”
“You draw buildings and stuff?”
“Yep. And houses and additions and rooms. Anything that’s wanted.”
Jackson nodded. “Can I hang out and watch a little bit? Or will I be in the way?”
Brady grinned. “Grab a pair of work gloves and help me haul out some of this wood to the scrap pile. I’ll show you some more stuff.”
“Awesome!”
He dove into the project, and for the next hour, they worked together in a happy comradery. Brady watched him with attentiveness, but after a while, he seemed to realize Jackson was a good kid and had an honest desire to learn. By the time the cabinets were pulled out and she’d selected the pieces she wanted to restore, they were tired and bonded by good, old-fashioned sweat and hard work.
“I better get home,” Jackson said with a touch of reluctance. “Mom should be back from work soon. Thanks for letting me help.”
“Come back tomorrow and I’ll let you smash a bit of the wall,” she said brightly.
“Thanks. Bye, Charlie. Bye, Brady!”
He took off with the enthusiasm of youth and disappeared out the door. Brady closed it and clicked the deadbolt firmly into place. She fought a shiver, not wanting to think of their intimate scene before. They had gotten a bit riled up and emotions had turned physical. Simple to explain away, but she wanted no awkwardness between them. Thank God nothing had happened they couldn’t come back from. But it seemed Brady had a different opinion. He walked over to her, standing a few inches away, arms crossed in front of his powerful chest, his sooty gaze locked with hers. “Seems like a good kid.” He paused. “You’re good with kids.”
She swallowed, trying to sound light and cheerful. “Thanks. Kids are real. I can deal with real.”
“Gotta admit you surprised me a bit today.”
“Because I don’t hate kids?”
A grin tugged at his full lips. “No. Because you’re not flighty, as I originally thought.”
She rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks. But I still think you’re a tightass.”
“Maybe I have some time to change your mind,” he said softly. His voice stroked some hidden parts deep inside—girly parts—that had never been ruffled before. She shifted her weight, nervously nibbling on her thumbnail.
“Umm, Brady—”
“Can I ask you a question?”
Damn. Things were getting out of hand, and she’d have to delicately tell him there was no way in hell anything would ever happen between them. He’d earned her respect by helping her and being cool with Jackson, but after his little speech today about what he wanted from a woman, it was evident they were universes apart. Even with the odd pull of sexual chemistry. “Well, see, I don’t think—”
“Are you really going to do white cabinets with rustic wood together? Because I think that’s going to be a deal breaker with people. You need to take some time to think about it.”
As his words registered, there was only one thing left to do.
She laughed. He grinned back at her, and the last bit of awkwardness and tension drained away. “You just wait, Heart. I’m going to blow your mind when this house is done.”
“Never said you weren’t going to. Just worried in what capacity it’ll be. Come on. Let’s get out of here and call it a night.”
They packed up their tools and headed out. He was becoming a better renovation partner than she’d originally thought.