A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel (21 page)

The home office spoke of understated wealth with its cherry wood furnishings and elegant drapes. Martha’s impressive decorator skills were evident in everything from the high bookshelves to the matching filing cabinets that all but faded into the background. She and Zeb had made a dynamic team, meshing both their private and professional lives.

Impatient to get to the subject that brought him here, Travis decided to broach it again. “Zeb—”

“I’m sellin’ the house, Trav. It’s goin’ on the market tomorrow.” Zeb’s voice rang with finality and a tinge of defiance. He tugged at the open collar of his white western-style shirt.

“Okay.” Travis shrugged, unsure how he should respond to the sudden news.

“It’s time I moved on with my life, made some changes. This place was Martha’s creative canvas. I’m constantly reminded—”

“Zeb. There’s no need to explain. Martha liked change as well as your steaks. She would understand.” Travis opted for a little humor, hoping to ease the tension in his friend’s posture.

Air whooshed from Zeb’s lungs on a bark of laughter. “Yeah. You’re right. She would.” He nodded once as if dismissing the subject and turned his gaze on Travis. “I guess you want to know what’s goin’ on with the Sweetwater Springs estimate.”

Finally
. “Considering we usually approve all projects together, yeah. I’m not opposed to the job, but I’d like to know what you’ve committed us to.”

“Before you go gittin’ all riled . . .  Wait. You’re
not
opposed to the job?”

“I’ll be the first to admit I thought you were pulling my leg at first. A job like this wouldn’t normally hit our radar, but I’ve seen the condition that place is in, and I know you and daddy feel protective where LouAnne is concerned.”

“Harry was our best friend, Trav. When he asked us to look after his widow, we didn’t realize we’d have to fight her to do it. This may be my only chance to honor his request.”

“I figured it was something like that.”

“So how bad is LouAnne’s place?”

“It’s not safe. Realistically, it needs to be ripped apart and put back to rights. The wiring needs to be replaced right away. Then the plumbing, floor joists and roof need to be addressed.”

“That bad?” Zeb frowned and stood, tugging at pants riding low under a small belly. He headed toward the hallway. “How about a beer?”

“Sure,” Travis answered to an empty room. When he arrived in the oversized, professionally equipped kitchen, Zeb already had two longnecks open. He stood with arms wide, bracing himself behind the breakfast bar.

“LouAnne’s got some money saved back, but not nearly enough to cover the major kind of renovation an old buildin’ will require. I can’t let her lose the salon. It’s all she’s got.”

And Claire’s too, as far as Travis knew. Not that she couldn’t find a job elsewhere with her skills. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Maybe. I say we do the job, but get creative on the invoices so LouAnne doesn’t know the true costs. I’ll personally cover the difference so it won’t impact the bottom line.”

“You sure? We’re talking about a lot of money.” Travis hiked a hip onto the nearest barstool. Though he’d hoped for one or two slack weeks, the salon would be a nice change of pace after dealing with Bostwick’s finicky ass and all the changes he’d wanted implemented after construction had started. Done right, this could be a short and satisfying project.

If he acted as foreman, it would give him more opportunities to explore the attraction he and Claire shared without it appearing obvious. But not if it meant more money out of Zeb’s pocket. “We could give Curt Rider that shot at foreman he’s been wanting.”

“Yeah, see, that’s a problem,” Zeb drawled in his deep Arkansas accent. “LouAnne asked for you, and I want the invoicing situation kept on a need to know basis. The fewer people who need to know the better.”

Travis hid his surprise. He’d bet his last dime he knew why the fiery-haired woman wanted him on the job.

Two words: Claire Larkin.

Since his and Claire’s disastrous single date, LouAnne always found a way to bring the dainty hairstylist’s name into any conversation. Give the woman a hint of unresolved issues and she was like a dog with a bone. More tenacious than his mother—and that was saying something—but twice as sneaky.

“How about we give her a nice discount on my hourly rate then, make it easier all around? My contribution for dad, if the subject ever comes up with him.”

“You sure?”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t. Any other conditions I should know about?”

Zeb grinned and lifted his bottle in a salute. “I knew I could count on you and that white-knight complex. This last one might be tricky. If you can persuade her differently, more power to you.”

Yeah, right. And horses can fly. Travis ignored Zeb’s dig about his altruistic nature and reached for his own bottle, taking a long swig as Zeb did the same. “You better tell me.”

“LouAnne’s conducting business as usual and wants minimal impact to customers. She—”

“That’s not going to fly when we start demolition. If she’ll clear out, we could do one of those round-the-clock makeovers. There’s nobody downtown at night to raise a fuss about the noise. She could be back in business inside of two weeks.”

“We know that. She doesn’t. Try convincing her to move to a temporary location or better yet, take a long week off without letting on how expensive the project is. If you can’t, finesse something creative.”

“Damn, Zeb.” Travis lifted the beer to his mouth, enjoying its cool bite. “You sure know how to challenge a guy.”

More sixteen hour days when he needed a break. At least he could get back with Claire long enough to get her out of his system, though it worried him some he hadn’t felt this level of attraction for anyone in . . . maybe ever.

Zeb chuckled and came around to claim the third barstool. “What’re you so grumpy about? Worried about the bottom line?”

Travis shot him a get-real look. Thanks to careful handling of the last few projects, they were sitting pretty. Zeb had even talked about taking a vacation. “When does this little job start?”

“Try to get some subs in there tomorrow and demand fast estimates. We’ll outline a plan to minimize the inconvenience over the weekend and try to have a crew ready to start demo early next week.”

“What if the inspector finds something on the Bostwick project to delay the CO?” Travis asked, referring to the certificate of occupancy. Bobby Bostwick, IV would have a cow if anything delayed the scheduled move-in for his new office complex.

“He won’t. You’ve been damn thorough. I can’t see him finding anything we couldn’t fix on the spot. Curt can handle the inspection.”

“How’d you know I left him in charge?” Travis grinned and drained his bottle. “Been checking up on me?”

Zeb snorted. “My days of inspecting your work and decisions are long gone, and you know it.”

Travis stood and fished in his jeans pocket for his truck keys. “I thought we decided on projects together, too.”

“Aw, Trav, don’t start. You tellin’ me you would’ve turned LouAnne down?”

Travis took perverse pleasure in Zeb’s wheedling tone. Not because he wanted to make his partner feel guilty, but because he needed to make a point. “Regardless of the circumstances, I wouldn’t have agreed to the job without consulting you first. That was our agreement.”

Zeb tucked his chin to his chest and pushed his lips into a thoughtful pucker before replying in a gruff voice. “You’re right. It won’t happen again.”

It was the closest to an apology he would get. “I’d better get home. I stopped by earlier to feed Phoenix and let her into the back yard, but she’ll be getting worried.”

“How is your mangy mongrel anyway?”

“Except for missing a leg, she’s good.”

At the front door, he paused as an odd thought struck him. “You’re not selling your house to free up cash for this project are you?”

Zeb shook his head. “Nuthin’ to do with it. I told you. It’s time I moved on, joined the living again. Heck, I may even try to date some, if I can find somebody willing to stand my ugly mug.” He laughed. “Think that’s possible at my age?”

Travis nodded. “Could be. You’ve still got a few miles on you yet.”

He didn’t have the words to tell the older man how much he respected and cared for him. Zeb was good people, no doubt about it. A woman could do worse.

“Well, we’ll see, I guess. I’m LouAnne’s hero for agreeing to this project.”

Her hero? Zeb shifted his stance, looking the teeniest bit uncomfortable. Or was it embarrassment?

“You and LouAnne?”

Zeb stuffed his hands in his front pockets, his shoulders pinching forward. “Maybe. Crazy fool notion, most likely.”

“Oh, I don’t know. The two of you have history and you’re friends. That’s a start.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Zeb repeated.

Travis pulled open the front door and stepped through it before pivoting back with a grin. “Oh, and Zeb? Looks like I’m not the only one with a streak of that white-knight complex.”

He left Zeb red-faced and speechless.

CHAPTER THREE

T
wenty minutes later, Travis parked beside his small ranch home with its stacked rock front. He eased from the truck, feeling every one of his thirty-two years.

He’d hoped for a week or two of slack before having to delve into another project. Though it promised to be quick, the salon remodel would be fast-paced and intense.

He hadn’t taken two steps before the voice of his elderly neighbor, Ruby Montrose, hailed him. She stood on her porch under a yellow bug light, her short silvery hair mashed on one side as if she’d fallen asleep in her favorite winged chair.

“Travis,” she called again. “Is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am. It is.”

“Could I make use of your youthful body again?”

Lord, he was tired, but she had no family to help her, even if she did have the worst timing. At the edge of her porch, he forced a smile and hoped it appeared genuine. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure I could keep up with you tonight, Miss Ruby.”

The half-delighted, half-embarrassed look on her face was worth the effort.

“Oh, my! Well . . .” She giggled like a young girl. “You know I didn’t mean—”

“I’m kidding. Was there something you needed?” he asked to distract her.

“Travis!” She chastised and turned to go inside. “You’re such a tease. Why some young lady hasn’t snapped you up I don’t know. Come in quick before the bugs do. The light in my hallway is out again. Things sure don’t last like they used to.”

A simple bulb change he could handle. He performed the chore, thinking this had to be the third time in a month he’d had the dubious pleasure.

“Do you leave this light on at night, Miss Ruby?”

“Well, of course not.” Indignation colored her tone. “I can’t waste electricity like that. I live on a fixed income.”

“Then I don’t think it’s the bulbs. You must have a short in the wires. I’ll have one of my guys come by tomorrow and take care of the problem.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t let you—”

“I insist. Meanwhile, try not to use this light unless you absolutely have to.”

“Well, let’s see. I guess I could leave the lamp on . . .” Miss Ruby continued figuring how to negotiate the hallway without turning on the light, but Travis strained to hear another sound.

Phoenix whined and yipped from his back yard, confused because he hadn’t come to get her. It was after eleven o’clock. Within minutes the whole neighborhood would be awake.

“I’d better go see to my dog.” Travis nodded his acceptance of her profuse thanks and backed through the door, raising a hand in farewell.

“Easy, girl,” he called in a low voice as he crossed the lawn. Phoenix pawed at the gate. He released the latch, and she bounded out, jumping around him with clumsy excitement.

He glanced at the dark, silent house. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’ve got a rawhide with your name on it.”

When he bought the place, he’d assumed a wife and kids would naturally happen at some point. About four years back, a broken condom had brought into sharp focus the emptiness of his personal life, despite having a girlfriend at the time. He’d had mixed feelings upon learning they’d dodged that particular bullet.

J.T. had gotten married years ago and had two boys. Not long ago, Rosie had fearlessly taken the plunge along with the challenge of a stepdaughter too.

He’d adopted a gimpy dog.

Maybe this was as good as it got for him—not that he had a bad life—but it wasn’t what he’d envisioned nor expected. A bottled-up feeling plagued him, like the fabric Snake In A Can toy he and J.T. had tormented girls with in grade school. On nights like this, the feeling became acute, and he found himself wishing for something more. Another good reason to get Claire out of his head so he could start working toward getting the family he wanted.

One side of his mouth quirked up. She’d been surprised when he’d kept his cool earlier. Little did she know there were more surprises in store.

Travis unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding it open until Phoenix made it through. The place was like a tomb, dark and cool and silent. He flipped on a light.

Even accustomed to seeing it every day, it didn’t look homey. Two framed pictures of his family sat on the mantel, compliments of his mom one Christmas. A soft chenille throw on the leather couch and a small arrangement of silk flowers were housewarming gifts from Rosie and Sara.

But the room didn’t look lived in.

He’d declined both their offers to help him decorate because he expected his house would be exploding with life by now. A kid or two in the extra bedroom, his wife reminding him to take out the trash, toys strewn throughout, tantalizing smells coming from the kitchen and meals around a dining room table which only gathered dust at the present.

He turned away and walked the short hallway into his bedroom with Phoenix at his side. As he emptied his pockets of keys, wallet and change, she trot-limped back into the living room.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten your chew,” he called after her while loosening his boot laces.

She responded with a growl and a short bark.

“What’s the matter, girl?” He toed off his boots and followed her.

Phoenix stood by the front door, sniffing.

A rapid knock came from the other side.

After a glance through the peephole, he swung the door open. “J.T.? What are you doing here this time of night?”

“Well, it’s great to see you too, little brother.” He shouldered his way in, carrying a bag in each hand. “I brought the beer. Let’s party.”

Party?
“It’s nearly midnight, J.T. Where are the boys?” Though he’d never known his brother to be the irresponsible sort, Travis also knew Sara’s death had taken its toll. He looked for signs of drinking, but only saw an older, slightly darker version of himself with a case of nerves and hollowed-out eyes.

“They’re spending the night with mama and daddy. Their first camp out. You know.” He hitched one shoulder, and his gaze slid away from Travis’s. “Like we used to do in the backyard.”

Aw, hell. That meant J.T. had been rambling around in his farmhouse all by himself. No wonder he was here. Travis stifled his complaint about phone messages that had gone unanswered. “I’ve got frozen mugs. You want one?”

The offer earned him a firm clap on the shoulder. “Knew I could count on you for a good time. Lead the way.”

In the kitchen, Travis pulled two mugs from the freezer before giving Phoenix a chicken-basted rawhide treat.

J.T. perched on a kitchen bar stool, filled the mugs to the brim and took a long drink. “I hesitated to ring your doorbell in case you had a girl here.”

A girl?
Travis eased onto the second bar stool. “I don’t date much, J.T.” Claire’s image popped into his mind, a fleeting moment during their date when he’d pulled away from their kiss. Her eyes were heavy with desire, lips swollen and parted.

Damn. Definitely all woman, there.

He swiped a hand across his chin and shifted in his seat. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve both had thirtieth birthdays. Mostly, I work, like you. When I do date, they’re old enough to be called women. I rarely bring one here.”

Would he have invited Claire here if they’d continued to see each other? Probably would’ve scared her off for sure. In hindsight, he realized they’d spent a lot of time flirting and not so much getting to know each other.

He frowned when J.T. shrugged and popped the top off another beer. That happened fast. When had he finished off the first one?

“Watch it, Trav. You’re starting to sound all respectful and responsible. Next thing you know you’ll be married.” He stared at the foam topped beverage in front of him, his expression determined. A second later he was chugging it.

“Slow down, J.T. It’s a long drive home.”

In response, his brother popped the top off another beer.

“J.T?”

Phoenix, hearing the edge in his voice, lifted her head to stare at them.

The seconds oozed by.

J.T. ignored the mug, lifted the bottle halfway to his mouth, then set it down with a thump. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He stared a hole through the sweaty brown glass as if it held untold secrets. “She’s everywhere in that house, Trav. Everywhere.” His voice was raspy, as if torn from his soul.

Yes, Sara had definitely put her stamp on the old Moreland place. No one could say it wasn’t homey or lived-in. She’d given it the warmth of a woman’s touch his house lacked.

Travis kept those thoughts to himself, his throat thick with sympathy for J.T. The sounds of Phoenix gnawing on her treat filled the pregnant pause in conversation. As for J.T., there were no words to ease his pain. He obviously didn’t want to be alone.

“Couch sleeps pretty good, if you’re not particular.”

J.T. downed another beer.

When Travis finally crawled between the sheets in his king-sized bed, he fully expected to be asleep in seconds. But the vision of Claire that had risen in his mind kept playing over and over, like some instant replay video on a continuous loop.

A mind-bending kiss had begun the instant he closed the door behind them that night. She’d walked him backwards until the sofa halted his progress. He nipped at her earlobe, letting her know he appreciated a woman who wasn’t afraid to show him what she wanted.

He pulled her down with him, one arm wrapped around her waist, unable to get her close enough. The soft, powdery scent of her filled his nostrils, and he gave into the moment. This would be good. Real good.

Only the sounds of her soft sighs and gasps interspersed with his labored breathing filled the silence as their need escalated.

Lying side by side was great, but awkward. He wanted both hands free to touch her. Now. One good twist and she was beneath him. He bunched the top portion of her dress exposing a taut belly. The navel jewelry glittered as she breathed.

“What’s this, hmm?” He bent and kissed the area below it, exposed by a low-riding skirt.

“It’s a fairy.”

He kissed above it, sliding his thumb under her breast. “Why a fairy?”

She chuckled, the sound sultry, and tried to tug him closer. “Why not? I can use all the luck I can get.”

He looked into her passion filled gaze and knew he wanted to do things differently. Slow things down. This time. With this woman.

He groaned into his pillow. Stupid idea. But he wasn’t wrong about the heat between them, hadn’t misread that. She’d definitely been into him.

Everything he’d said from that moment on had created a chasm between them and sparked anger in Claire.

Was he nuts to have put an end to their heated interlude?

Years earlier, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought if he knew the woman had a genuine interest. In this case, he and Claire had been dancing around each other for months. She was willing. He had the inclination. That should have been reason enough to go for a hot, brief affair.

So why hadn’t he?

* * *

“
I
can’t believe I’m saying this, but that color becomes you, Claire,” Rita White, an oncology nurse, gushed. Several others around her smiled and nodded their approval. “What’s the next one going to be? Do you have one planned?”

Claire knew Rita meant her hair. It was the favorite topic of conversation whenever she was around the nurses’ station.

It seemed quite the amusement for Travis too. He’d certainly made a point of goading her about it every chance he got.
Hard to overlook. Humph!

“Well, the Plum Pudding has gotten so many comments I’m thinking of staying with the fruit colors. Granny Smith is the next in line.” She paused, waiting for the reaction.

Rita’s mouth pursed in an “O” shape as she regarded Claire’s funky hairstyle.

Travis seemed plenty attracted when her hair was pink. So, what was his deal now? And why was she
even
obsessing about it? She shook her head, as if doing so would shake off the object of her thoughts.

“Granny Smith’s are green, right?” The naturally pretty nurse was frowning, as if trying to puzzle out why anyone would want green hair.

“What? Oh, yeah.” She really had to overcome this preoccupation with
him
. “They’re kind of like the color of new leaves in spring. My hair would match my eyes. Cool, huh?” Claire grinned and leaned over the counter to whisper, “And I don’t think I’d get any patient envy, do you?”

The young nurse returned Claire’s grin. “Probably not.”

“You got any messages for me?” She tried not to show her own envy over Rita’s long blonde tresses tied back into a low ponytail. Claire’s beautician side noticed the natural color, excellent condition and healthy shine. Her purely female side remembered when her own hair had looked the same. Maybe someday it would again, if she were phenomenally lucky. Time would tell.

Sometimes she got tired of waiting for her life to begin again.

“Here they are. New patient in three-twelve.” Rita pushed the papers toward her.