LITMIR.BIZ

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sometimes.

      I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

      Not that I thought about it every second. I had plenty of other things on my mind, like reassuring Zach, trying to set up the remodel job at the resort without leaving the house, and problems on the Pearson site.

      But the memory of that kiss kept ambushing me.

      I’d been eating lunch—Seely had made cheeseburgers—and all of a sudden I’d noticed her hands, the long fingers and short nails, and I’d remembered how she’d dug those fingers into my back. When Doofus tried to trip me on the way to the bathroom, I thought about how he’d nearly caused another accident.

      Shoot, in the middle of a crossword puzzle the word erupt made me think of volcanoes, lava and heat, and I was right back with that kiss. All day long, it kept popping out at me like a jack-in-the-box with a broken lid.

      I didn’t like it. It’s not that I expect to control my thoughts a hundred percent of the time, but I don’t like being pushed around by them, either.

      Maybe hiring Seely hadn’t been such a great idea. I was stuck with the decision, though. It wouldn’t be fair to change my mind now. I’d just have to get myself up to par as quickly as possible so I could let her go.

      And then she wouldn’t be off-limits anymore.

      That sneaky thought annoyed me. I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair. Once Seely’s employment with me was over, she probably wouldn’t be in Highpoint anymore, either. Duncan had found her at the bus station, for God’s sake. And I wasn’t interested in trying to persuade a reluctant woman to stay. I’d failed miserably the last time.

      My chest tightened. That twitchy, brittle feeling climbed over me, the one that had ridden me too often lately, as if I were wearing my skin backward. One wrong move could split it, spilling all sorts of messy, inner bits out on the dirty ground. Yet I craved motion, action.

      I was scared.

      I’d wanted Gwen, wanted her for keeps. I’d gone at getting her to marry me the way I go after any important goal, giving it everything I had. And I’d flopped, big-time. She’d fallen for my brother.

      Plenty of times in the last few months I’d told myself I needed to start looking for a woman to share my life. And hadn’t done it. I’d begun to wonder what was wrong with me, if maybe I was too old to marry for the first time. Maybe my standards were too high, or there was something missing in me. Maybe I’d missed my chance for a family of my own.

      For a long, still moment, I sat there in my wicker chair on the deck I’d built and faced a truth I’d been dodging. Deep down, I wasn’t sure I could handle failing again.

      The late-afternoon sunshine hit the yard at a strong slant, dragging long shadows from the poplars along the back fence that striped the yard in plump diagonals. I hadn’t mowed the grass in three weeks. It was still green but had stopped growing. The leaves on the oak showed more gold than green in the autumn sun.

      By the back gate, Zach and Doofus were digging industriously. I smiled, wondering what he was digging for. Gold? Diamonds? Or the sheer joy of making a nice, big hole in the ground?

      Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I never managed to pull off the wife-and-family bit. I had Zach. I didn’t have him every day, but lots of fathers were in that position these days. Didn’t they say that happiness lay in being content with what you have, instead of yearning for more?

      My fingers started drumming again. To hell with that. Sounded like giving up to me.

      The doors behind me slid open, and a wonderful aroma drifted out.

      “Thought you might like some sweet tea,” Seely said. “It’s a Southern tradition.”

      “Sure. Thanks.” I accepted the glass she held out, willing to try one of her traditions. “I don’t need that jacket, Gwen.”

      Seely took the old rocker. Gwen sat in the wicker chair that matched mine, laying my jacket across her knees. “If you say so. You know me—I’m always cold.” She studied my face a moment. “You’re right, Seely. He does look better. Hard to believe he’s actually been behaving.”

      “I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m incapable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a few years now.” I took a sip of tea. “This is good. So, I guess the two of you have been, uh, getting acquainted?”

      Gwen shook her head, grinning. “The look on your face, Ben! It’s easy to see you think the two of us had nothing better to talk about than you. Shame on you.”

      “You’ve been talking for over an hour. In my experience, that’s enough time for two women to exchange their life histories and get started on everyone else’s.”

      Seely laughed. The rocker creaked as she leaned forward to pat my knee. “Don’t worry. She didn’t spill the beans about your misspent youth.”

      Gwen frowned. “I don’t think Ben had a misspent youth. Or much of a youth at all, with the way he had to give up everything when…” Her voice trailed off. Maybe because of the look on my face.

      The rocking chair creaked again as Seely leaned back. “Actually, we talked about your house more than you. I love old houses.”

      “Yeah?” I relaxed, pleased. “This one isn’t all that old compared to some back east. But around here, homes over fifty years old aren’t common.”

      “When was it built?”

      “In 1935, but my grandfather used salvaged pieces from older houses where he could. That’s fashionable now, but not too many people were doing it back then. The wainscoting in the entry and the mantel in the living room are about 120 years old. Came from an old bawdy house.”

      She laughed. “Oh, that’s wonderful! And the staircase? That looks old.”

      “The newel post is over a hundred years old.”

      “It’s a grand old house.” She rocked gently a moment. “A pity it’s neglected, but I suppose that’s like the cobbler’s children going barefoot. You’re probably too busy building other people’s homes to have time for your own.”

      I sat up straight. “What the hell are you talking about? Everything’s in great shape!”

      “I’m sure it is. Maybe neglected was the wrong word. It just doesn’t look like anything has changed much in twenty years.”

      I had my mouth open, ready to blast her, when Zach came running up, chanting his mom-mom-mom mantra.

      “Good grief, you’re dirty,” Gwen said.

      “Yeah. Come see the bug me an’ Doofus found. You, too, Seely,” he said, politely including her in the treat. He and she had settled it earlier that he was to use her first name. “It’s tre-men-duz.”

      Lots of things were tre-men-duzlately. I reached for my stick.

      Seely stood, put her hand on my good shoulder and asked, with one lifted eyebrow, if I was sure I ought to get up. I scowled at her, but stayed put. “The steps from the deck are tricky for me,” I told Zach. “I’ll sit this bug out.”

      Everyone else headed across the yard. Over by the rear gate, Doofus was barking at the pile of dirt he and Zach had created. I assume the bug was there. Seely grinned at Zach and said something I couldn’t make out. Zach giggled. Gwen smiled at him, then tilted her head to speak to Seely.

      Seen side by side, the two women couldn’t have looked more different. Gwen was a tidy little thing, her short hair pale and shiny in the sunlight. Seely was at least a head taller. More robust. Brighter, somehow.

      I frowned. More irritating, too. What was so great about changing stuff around, anyway? Everything worked. And it wasn’t as if I hadn’t done anything to the place for twenty years. The couch and area rug in the living room were only five years old. Of course,

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