Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Bayou Sweetheart\The Firefighter's New Family\Season of Redemption (2 page)

What would the lovely Callie Moreau think when she found out the truth about him? When she found out who he really was?

He didn't want that to happen yet. He could control how much she knew in the same way he controlled everything else in his life.

“Let's get on with this,” he said in an abrupt tone. “I have a busy afternoon.”

She nodded, shuffled her folded papers and came around the desk. “Here's the grid.”

Tomas sniffed the floral scent of her perfume while she expounded on everything from Japanese maples to cast-iron plants.

And he wondered why he even cared about the garden in the first place.

* * *

“So that's how Alma's gumbo got so famous.”

Callie grinned over at Margie and Eunice. She remembered seeing them at church when they'd come for the first time a few weeks ago, so she felt at ease with them. After lunch, Himself had gone off to take another important call, but the rain kept falling so she was now back in the kitchen. Would she ever get to dig in that garden?

“So what's it like to work for such a scary person?” she asked, killing time with small talk.

“We like him,” Margie said. She shot a covert glance to the other end of the big house. “He pays well.”

“Okay, that's good. He's generous then?”

“Very,” Eunice chimed in. “But we've known Tomas for a long time now. That's why we came to work here. He only asks that we keep things straight and clean. He doesn't mind us taking breaks. And he told us we could take off anytime we had doctor's appointments or things like that.” She shrugged. “We hardly know he's around.”

“Good.” Callie twirled her hair, remembering her time with Tomas in his office. The man couldn't wait to get rid of her. “So you're telling me that Mr. Delacorte isn't really that scary?”

Both women went very quiet. Callie wondered if they hadn't heard her. “So?”

“Boo.”

She turned to find Tomas standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He'd managed to sneak up on her yet again and while she was talking about him, yet again. When had he managed to walk the whole house without her hearing?

“Oh, hi.” She sat still while Margie and Eunice jumped up and pretended to be doing busy stuff. “Is that rain still out there?” And when would she learn to keep her mouth shut?

“Did I scare you?” he asked, ignoring the rain question.

“No. I mean, yes.” It was time for her to go home.

He gave her the glint look. “Voices tend to echo through this house.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

After the other women beat a hasty exit, he leaned against the counter. “Do I...scare you?”

Callie couldn't fudge the truth. She was known for her sugar-coated bluntness, after all. “Yes, you do. You're different.”

“In what way?”

In a tingling, strange way that messes with my head.

She lifted her hand, indicating their surroundings, and thought of the first excuse that came to mind. “This house didn't come cheap.”

Fleur House was a true treasure with its many porches and porticos, the arched windows and terraces and that garden, lush with possibilities. This man had bought it, commissioned Nick Santiago to renovate it and had managed to put a big intricate iron fence around it to keep everyone out.

But all of that added up to a lot of money.

“No, but how does that make me different?”

“Have you really taken a look at this town? We're hurting. Between storms, oil spills and a bad economy, we're barely hanging on. But you—you seem to have it all together. You get to live in a beautiful, historic home. You obviously have money since you poured a lot into renovating this place. And you're paying me a hefty fee to spruce up the property. So yes, you're different. You don't have to worry about where your next paycheck will come from.”

He leaned close to her, his gaze heating her skin. “I am different, but not in the way you think.”

Callie took a breath and dug right in. “You want to explain that?”

“No,” he said. Then he glanced out the row of kitchen windows. “Oh, look, the rain's stopped.”

Callie knew a dismissal when she heard one.

“My cue to leave,” she said. Grabbing her tote and her pride, she turned at the back door. “I'll be back tomorrow. Hopefully, the ground will be dry by then. I'll try to stay out of your way.”

“I'd appreciate that—you coming back to finish the job
and
you staying out of my way.” He nodded, glinted and then turned and walked out of the room.

Chapter Two

“S
o you will be at the wedding?”

Tomas walked with Brenna and Nick to their car. They'd come by to take one last look at the house that they'd both helped renovate. Tomas always enjoyed meetings that involved Brenna. She knew her art, and she had fallen in love with his right-hand man, Nicholas Santiago.

He stared at Brenna now. She was different from her sisters. All auburn and fire, lots of emotion and drama. Alma was maternal and earthy, with golden-brown hair and flashing eyes.

And Callie. She was earth, wind and fire, water and sunshine. The total package. Sunlight-golden hair and gray-blue eyes. He hadn't seen her since they'd met the other day, but he'd seen traces of her work in the garden. Would she only come around when he wasn't here?

“Earth to Tomas?” Brenna grinned over at him. “I think we lost you there for a minute. Did you think of something else we need to do for you? For the house?”

“No.” Tomas kept smiling. “The wedding? Yes, I plan to be there. Wouldn't miss it.” Dreaded it with all his heart, but...he'd promised Nick.

Brenna let out a little squeal. “Good. You know, everyone in town is dying to meet the mysterious man who bought Fleur House. You're a hot topic around here.”

Nick shook his head. “Anybody new here is a hot topic. Don't let her tease you.”

Tomas enjoyed the way they glanced at each other. So in love. He thought of Callie, dancing in the rain. Remembered he didn't want her dancing in his garden. Remembered her laughing in his kitchen. Remembered that he didn't want her laughing in his kitchen. Or in his garden, for that matter.

“We've lost him again,” Brenna said, opening the trunk of her car to put away some folders. “Tomas, please don't disappoint me. I want you to be at my wedding. I owe you a lot, you know. If you hadn't bought this house, I wouldn't have met Nick.”

“That's true,
sí,
” Nick said, nodding his agreement. “Say yes, so she'll quit pestering you.”

Brenna tilted her head. “My sisters are my bridesmaids. Callie will be wearing a pretty blue dress.”

That got his attention. “Ah, Callie. I met her the other day. She was...in the garden.”

“She loves that job,” Brenna replied, a twinkle in her eye. “She told Alma and me about how you'd caught her playing in the rain.”

He was sure she'd told them more—that he was brooding and scary and that she had a total disdain for his lofty lifestyle.

“She's a very...interesting woman.”

Nick grinned and winked. “These Blanchard sisters, Tomas. Have to watch them.”

Brenna didn't even bat an eye. “It's Callie Blanchard Moreau now, but she is the last Blanchard woman standing. The strongest of us. You need to ask her to dance at the wedding so she won't feel like a wallflower. Okay?”

“I don't dance,” Tomas replied, already imagining Callie in a blue dress, in his arms. Definitely not a wallflower.

Brenna shook her head at that. “You might change your mind.” She was about to shut the trunk when Tomas stopped her.

“Wait,” he said, spying a painting lying in the trunk underneath a blanket. The blanket had slipped away to reveal long blond hair and one sky-blue eye. “May I see that?”

Brenna pulled at the blanket. “I painted it.” She beamed and sent a glance to her amused fiancé. “For Callie's birthday, last December. Papa and I have been working on the frame. Only Callie is a bit embarrassed about it. She didn't want people to think she's vain so she asked Papa to keep it.”

Tomas lifted the painting and held it up. It was a portrait of Callie laughing in a garden. It reminded him of the other day. The day his heart had beat faster. “How much?”

Brenna frowned over at him. “Excuse me?”

“I want to buy this. How much?”

Nick cleared his throat. “Uh, that's not for sale. Brenna gave it to Callie as a gift.”

“But she refused to accept it.” Tomas held tight to the painting. Brenna had captured her sister's essence, the same essence he'd seen when she was in the garden. “I understand that and I appreciate it. But I'd like to buy this painting.”

Brenna started to speak, then stopped, then started again.

“I...I don't know what to say. I mean, I worked on it for months, sometimes right here in the sunroom, before the house was finished. Papa said he'd like to hang it by our mother's portrait.”

“How much?” Tomas asked again. “Name your price.”

Brenna dropped the blanket into the trunk. “But...what will I tell Callie? And Papa? Have you met my papa?”

“No. But I've met your sister. Just quote me a price.”

Brenna walked over to Nick. “Will you please explain to your boss that this portrait is not for sale?”

Nick grinned again. “I think Tomas has finally met his match.” He leaned close to Brenna. “And I'm not talking about you and your papa.”

Brenna smiled at Nick, a gleam in her eyes. “Tomas, I can't sell you the portrait. But I'm flattered that you like it.”

Tomas put the portrait back in the trunk. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make demands. It's just that—”

“This would be perfect in one of the bedrooms,” Brenna replied, her eyes lighting up.

“I had thought the sunroom.” Tomas shouldn't have said anything. He didn't like the feelings Callie seemed to stir. And he did not like the way Brenna's eyes were gleaming now. She obviously thought he'd gone mad, or she'd sensed his hard-to-explain interest in her older sister.

“The sunroom.” Brenna's eyes filled with tears. “Perfect.”

“I'm sorry,” Tomas said again. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

“No, no.” Brenna ran a finger over the painting. “Callie has been through so much. So much. I wanted to give her something that would make her smile. She was touched and embarrassed. So we compromised and agreed to display it at Papa's house, maybe in her old room. But...you seem to see her as she is. She's the sunshine in all of our lives.”

Tomas swallowed, wondered why he'd even suggested having the painting. “You have to give it back to her—to your family.”

Brenna took the painting out and ran her hand over the wooden frame. “My papa made this frame and Alma and I helped Julien and him mat it. Callie probably hasn't even missed it.”

“You have to keep it. Because you're family,” Tomas said again, a trace of regret in the words. “I understand. You all had a part in this gift.”

Brenna stared at Callie's image. “Yes. But Callie would be so touched that you wanted it. She needs to know that someone wants—”

“I understand,” Tomas finished, feeling awkward now.

Brenna turned to Nick. “What should I do?”

Nick shrugged. He kissed her on the nose. “Remember you and me? Remember?”

“Yes.” She took his hand. “We're so blessed.”

Tomas could see their love. But he wasn't sure what they were saying. “Obviously, I've upset you.”

Nick held out a hand. “The Blanchard sisters lost their mother to breast cancer. They get emotional about things.”

“I'm sorry.” Tomas wished he'd never suggested buying the painting. He was usually better at handling negotiations. “Put it away, Brenna.”

“I don't mind you having it,” Brenna said. “I think it's a beautiful idea. But...Callie's been hurt badly by a horrible divorce. Her ex-husband couldn't handle it when she got sick.”

Tomas lifted his head and stared at Brenna, his heart hammering as realization hit him like a hot wind. “Callie? She was...sick?”

“She's a cancer survivor,” Brenna replied. “But...”

“But you don't want anyone to hurt her ever again,” Tomas finished. “I understand. That's a family thing, too.”

“Yes. We're close. Tight-knit. I'd have to explain.”

And he'd have to promise to honor that gift and the woman he'd met the other day. Callie...with cancer. He didn't like thinking about that. He wasn't sure he was ready for something so strong, so tightly woven.

How could he even begin to understand what Brenna was saying to him? She didn't want him to make a mess of her sister's life. He didn't want to be in anyone's life anyway.

“Take it back to your father.”

Brenna wrapped the painting and placed it in the trunk. “Thanks for understanding.”

Tomas usually liked a good challenge. But this was a matter of the heart, and it had been a very long time since he'd given his heart to anything that truly mattered. “Don't tell her I asked to buy it.”

“Of course not,” Brenna replied, her eyes full of hope and understanding. “If this portrait of my sister ever does wind up in your home, you'll have to be the one to tell her. But you need to know—she likes surprises. The good kind, that is.”

“Thank you,” Tomas said. “It was good to see both of you.”

Then he turned and headed toward his big, lonely house.

* * *

“Surprise!”

Callie clapped her hands and beamed with glee. They'd planned a special shower for Brenna, the last one before her wedding, at Alma's little cottage on the bayou.

“What is all of this?” Brenna asked as she moved through the dainty living room. “I already have so much from my other showers.”

“We know,” Alma said, smiling. “This is from us—your sisters and your close friends.”

Callie pulled Brenna close. “See—Winnie's here and Pretty Mollie and—”

“And the other waitresses from the café and Mrs. LeBlanc and Mrs. Laborde,” Brenna finished. “So thoughtful. What do you two have up your sleeve?”

“Wait until you see your gifts,” Callie said, her heart bursting. After going through a bad breakup and losing her dream job in Baton Rouge, Brenna had found Nick—a wonderful man—to spend her life with, a man who recognized her talents and her temperamental, creative nature. Callie's heart pierced at the thought of her sisters finding happiness. She'd thought she had it. Once. Long ago. But Dewayne Moreau was nowhere to be seen in Louisiana. He was long gone.

But she was here. She'd survived a divorce and breast cancer. Now she was grateful for each breath she took. Her prayers were sweeter, deeper, with more meaning. Because she'd been given a true second chance. Every minute had to count.

She missed their mother, Lola. “Mom would be so happy for you,” she told Brenna.

“I know. I know.” Brenna went around, looking at the presents scattered here and there. “What kind of shower is this, anyway?”

Callie and Alma both laughed. “It's an artist type shower. Your husband-to-be has big plans for that new house he's building you.”

Brenna's expression went soft. “He's so sweet. I can't believe he decided we could live here part-time.”

“He loves you. And...you will be going back and forth between here and San Antonio,” Callie said.

“And he does have that adorable little hacienda in Texas,” Alma reminded her sister. “You are blessed.”

Brenna's eyes grew bright. “But really, what kind of shower is this?”

“Oh, all right, impatient,” Callie retorted. “We bought you art supplies for that new studio Nick's including in your house.”

Brenna burst into tears.

“Drama queen,” Callie said, grabbing her little sister close. “Why are you crying?”

“I...I just never dreamed I'd be so happy,” Brenna said through gulps. “I...I want all of us to be this happy.” She looked at Callie. “I want you—”

“Shh,” Callie said, her own tears hot against her cheek. “I'm always happy. Always. I get to see both of you married to good men. I get to design the garden of my dreams at Fleur House. I have Elvis. He's the perfect companion.”

Out on the porch, Elvis barked in agreement.

Brenna's tears disappeared. “What do you think of Tomas? Isn't he so...mysterious?”

And so the conversation turned to the man who'd been centered in Callie's mind for over two weeks. She'd been out to the house a couple more times, but he'd been away on business or off doing whatever a mysterious man did. Or maybe he'd been there, but he'd studied her from that lofty view up above the tree line, where people who didn't want to be seen lived. Maybe he was some sort of superhero who fought crime by night and built empires by day.

“So...?”

She looked up to find several big-eyed women staring at her. “Oh, the punch. Yes, it's almost ready.”

“We weren't talking about punch,” Alma retorted with a wry grin. “Have you been doing any more dancing?”

“Oh, hush.” Callie busied herself with getting ice and mixing the creamy concoction of standard shower punch.

Winnie raised her hand. “I hear he reminds you of Heathcliff.”

Pretty Mollie, one of the younger waitresses at the Fleur Café located in front of Alma's cottage, giggled. “Heathcliff, as in
Wuthering Heights?
”

“That Heathcliff, yes,” Alma replied. Mollie dated her husband, Julien's, younger brother, Pierre.

“Can't you ever keep the things I tell you to yourself?” Callie asked, blood rushing to her cheeks.

“It's payback time,” Brenna said, still sniffing. “You've been teasing us about men for years now. It's our turn.”

“But that was about men you were involved with,” Callie said. She stirred the lime sherbet into the lemon-lime fizzing soda with a vengeance, then added some fruit juice. “This is different.”

“Is it really?” Brenna asked. “He seems keen on you.”

“What makes you think that?” Callie asked, her heart pounding just as much as the wooden spoon she used to attack the sherbet. She wasn't sure what “keen on you” actually meant.

Brenna put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, nothing. He just mentioned how he'd met you and that you were...interesting.”