Back in the Bachelor's Arms. Victoria Pade
extent of the work already done and in progress on the house, though,” Chloe told the other women after explaining why she’d decided to see what was in the attic before paying to have it all shipped to Arizona.
“I’ve been e-mailing you step by step and you’ve authorized the cost of the materials,” Betty said.
“I guess I just wasn’t keeping track.” Probably because she’d wanted to dispense of anything that brought Northbridge to mind as quickly as possible, paying as little attention to it as she could manage, and then forgetting about it. “But I know I told you the maximum I was willing to spend on this and after seeing the extent of the work I’m a little worried that you aren’t staying within my budget.”
“All the work was necessary—as I told you when we spoke before, years of renters had taken a toll on the place. But we’ll actually come in under your budget because with Luke and Reid doing the work there aren’t any labor charges.”
“Luke and Reid are doing the work? You didn’t tell me that!”
“I did. I’ve kept copies of all my e-mails to you and that was one of the first. You didn’t answer it, but I thought that since you’d left it to me to choose whatever handymen or workmen were required, you didn’t care and didn’t feel the need to respond.”
Betty went on to explain the advantages of the arrangement to all parties but Chloe only heard it peripherally. Her mind was stalled on one thing: Reid Walker was doing the work on the house.
It was only when Betty began to talk about how Reid had taken vacation time this week to finish the job that Chloe tuned in again.
“He’ll be here? All week? While I’m here?” she demanded of the Realtor.
Harshly, apparently, because Betty stopped short and there was only silence on the other end of the line for a long moment.
And when Betty spoke again her tone was cool and clipped. “Yes, Reid is scheduled to be there all week. Which I would have been happy to tell you had you let me know you were coming into town and intended to stay at the house. But you were very clear about how much you didn’t want to be anywhere near here.”
That was true. And that had been her intention. And because she’d wanted to simply slip into town without drawing any attention to herself she hadn’t informed her Realtor.
“Can that be changed?” Chloe asked then. “Reid working on the house this week? Can I say no?”
“Well, of course that would be your prerogative but it would hardly be fair to—”
The doorbell rang just then.
Chloe wanted to scream with frustration. But she knew this was all her fault. Her own fault for not having paid close attention to Betty’s e-mails. For not having let the Realtor know she was coming to Northbridge.
And screaming wouldn’t accomplish anything and neither was this phone call.
“Someone is at the door. I’ll just deal with this,” Chloe said, cutting off the guilt-trip the woman was laying on her, and hanging up so she could move to the door.
Chloe hadn’t showered yet. She hadn’t done anything with her hair since getting up, so the ponytail she’d put it in before going to bed was lopsided and spilling strands of hair. She was wearing what she’d slept in—a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt that weren’t revealing in the slightest, but that also weren’t what she wanted to be wearing to answer the door.
On the second ring of the bell, however, she realized there was nothing she could do about her appearance and answered it anyway.
To find Reid, who was standing on the front porch holding two steaming cups of coffee.
He held one of them aloft and said, “Truce?”
“Are we at war?” Chloe asked, trying not to notice how good he looked standing there in a pair of ancient jeans and a plain white crew-necked T-shirt under a jean jacket.
There was more form to him dressed in those clothes than had been in evidence in his hospital scrubs the night before and she couldn’t help noticing that his shoulders were broader and more muscular than they had been years ago. His biceps seemed to fill his jacket sleeves to capacity.
His chest was expansive beneath the T-shirt, narrowing to a waist and hips that were taut and toned, easing into thighs massive enough not to leave any spare room in those jeans.
Plus, unless she was mistaken, he was a couple of inches taller than the six feet he’d sported at eighteen. All of which made him very imposing, coffee-truce in hand or no coffee-truce.
“I don’t want to be at war, no,” he was saying in answer to her question as she forced her attention away from cataloguing the attributes of the man’s body that were vastly improved over that of the boy’s. “But I think I sort of mounted the first attack last night, so I wouldn’t blame you if you’re arming yourself for the second.”
Chloe considered how to handle this. He might have had the advantage the night before but it was on her side now. She could take it and give him a taste of his own medicine, or she could choose the high ground.
But being in Northbridge, in the same house, seeing him again, was bad enough. Fighting with him would only make it worse. So she decided on the high ground.
“I’ll take the coffee,” she said, reaching for the cup.
“Can we talk?” he asked as she took her first sip.
A slight frown beetled his brow but this time she didn’t think for even a moment that he was referring to talking about what had happened fourteen years ago. Instead she was reasonably certain the house and what was going on with it was more what he had in mind.
Chloe stepped out of the way of the door as an invitation. “Looks like we’d better,” she said, pointedly glancing at the disarray of the living room that the front door opened into.
Reid accepted the invitation, closing the door behind himself. When he had, he nodded in the same direction. “Luke and I have been working on the place.”
“So I understand. I just got off the phone with Betty. She tells me you plan to work here all week.”
“Yeah, that was the plan.”
“And since you saw me get dropped off here last night you thought maybe you should be a little nicer to me so I’d agree to let you go through with it.”
“Actually, no,” he said very matter-of-factly. “When I saw Molly drop you off here last night I went in and kicked the couch and cussed for a while. It wasn’t until after that that I decided—and not because of the remodel plan, but for other reasons—that I needed to come over this morning and start again. So, let me do that by backing up and asking if you’re okay. Physically.”
“I’m fine.”
“Seriously? Because I can’t say that was the best exam I’ve ever done and by now the doc from Billings who’s filling in for me this week should be at the hospital. He could do a recheck. I wouldn’t have to have anything to do with it.”
“Seriously, I’m fine. I was stiff when I got out of bed, but even that’s better.”
“No bruises that appeared overnight? No abdominal pain? No nausea? No headache or neckache? No difficulty breathing when you went to bed or going up or down the stairs? No—”
“No nothing. I’m fine and I don’t need the Billings doctor to confirm that. I was probably not even going ten miles an hour when I hit that pole. If the cop hadn’t insisted, I wouldn’t have gone in to a hospital at all.”
Reid nodded slowly, as if he wanted to believe her reassurance but was still skeptical.
Then he said, “If you’re absolutely sure you’re all right, then it’s a relief. I’m ordinarily not that lousy a doctor.”
“You