Soldier, Handyman, Family Man Page 9

  Chapter Five

  After the hot make-out session on the beach earlier that night, and an equally exciting good-night kiss at her front door, reality blindsided Laurel. She couldn’t get involved with anyone yet. She was still getting over losing Alan. Even now a whisper of pain circled her shoulders at the thought of falling for someone again, and how everything good could change in the blink of an eye. No way was she prepared for that, not this soon. Not ever? By the way she felt lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with perspiration lining her upper lip, just from merely considering it, it occurred she might never be ready to open up to someone again. It didn’t matter how charming or downright appealing Mark Delaney was. Loss and the pain that followed would never be worth it.

  After an ongoing inner conversation between the part of herself that was intrigued by Mark and the other cowering part, afraid to ever open up to such heartache and devastation again, it was Thursday before Laurel asked Mark to help at the B&B. And only then because she had no choice.

  “I’ve lost the power in two of the upstairs guest rooms,” she said, showing up at The Drumcliffe workshop and toolshed wringing her hands, panicked over losing the guests she’d booked for that weekend equally as strong as the prospect of looking Mark in the eyes again.

  *

  Always glad to see her, he turned off the gas soldering torch and laid the copper pipe down. “Sounds like the fuse box might be overtaxed. Where is it?”

  “It’s not exactly an emergency. I see you’re busy, but as soon as you have a chance?”

  “I can do this later.” He stepped around the workbench.

  He’d been making himself scarce all week, like a coward. What guy in his right mind avoided someone who could twist his socks with a kiss? Evidently, him.

  Now here she was, looking great, as usual, even though her pupils were wide with anxiety. It made him think how she might look after making love, and all thoughts after that steamed up his work goggles.

  Mark moved the eye protectors up to his forehead, so he could see her better. “Let’s go.”

  When they got to the B&B, she pointed him to the pantry, just off the kitchen, and an antiquated box in great need of updating. “I can replace the couple of blown fuses now, but it will only be a matter of time before it happens again. This thing—” he pointed to the wall box “—is in need of updating.”

  “Oh, great, another expense. This place is turning into a money pit.” Back came the anxious gaze.

  He took her by the shoulders. “Calm down. I’m in the hotel business, remember? I know guys who know guys. We’ll get this fixed at half the cost.”

  “You can do that?”

  Staring into her eyes, he realized she trusted him, and he felt honored. Another thing that messed with his senses, the fact that he wanted her respect, and respect required him to be more than what he currently was—just a fix-it guy. The most he could do now was impress her by getting a deal on replacing her fuse box. So much less than she deserved—which was an accomplished, financially stable and well-adjusted man, far more fitting—but he powered on with what he knew best.

  “My grandfather is a sneaky guy,” he said, giving half a smug smile while on the verge of divulging a family secret. “He plays golf, looking like an easy loser, makes bets and wins the game. Takes payback in favors. Just about every businessman in the area owes him something. I’ll ask about an electrician, see what we come up with, because electrician is above my handyman grade.” Wanting more than anything to continue to impress her, he hated admitting this, but he had to be honest.

  She took a deep breath, half of her anxiety seeming to let go. “Okay. Thanks. But what about right now?”

  “Like I said, I can replace these burnt-out fuses, no problem, but be careful about turning all the lights on upstairs at once, or using the vacuum in one room with a fan on in another.”

  Her hand flew to her brow. “I’ve got guests coming tomorrow! How am I going to handle this? I can’t exactly tell them to leave the lights off if they put the TV on. Gah!”

  “Let me give Grandda a call.”

  He made the call, and as predicted his grandfather could call in a favor. In the meantime, with three new fuses in place to keep the house running, for now, he let those previous steamy thoughts take over. He’d been avoiding Laurel for a good reason, because all it took was being in her presence to make him forget how not ready for a relationship he was. Though completely in the present, wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms again, he got an idea, foolhardy as it was, to take advantage of the moment.

  *

  After rushing upstairs to turn off all unnecessary lights, while Mark fixed the fuses, Laurel headed back into the kitchen for a quick drink of water. After, she placed her glass on the counter. The room was completely quiet. Figuring Mark was off getting whatever he needed, she relaxed and wandered toward the pantry to see what he’d been doing. When one step away from the door, a hand reached around the corner and grabbed hers. She squealed as she got pulled into the semidark area. Mark.

  “You scared the wits out of me,” she said, her heart beating in her ears.

  He wore an intent look, a heavy-lidded and sexy gaze. Pulling her near, he put his hands on her waist, bridging the short distance with his face, until their lips met.

  She hesitated, knowing it was a mistake to do this, but soon, her arms went over his shoulders and her hands around his neck, holding him close as they kissed the heck out of each other. She could get used to this, which frightened her. A little noise slipped from the back of her throat, which he must have liked, because he pressed his hips closer to hers and kissed deeper. The heady feel of every part of his body along the length of hers made her forget her concerns. Her hands rushed across his muscular deltoids, and around to the back of his hips. She pushed him closer, feeling his obvious reaction to their kisses.

  It was dangerous taking their attraction further like this. Yet unable to control herself, she moved over him, letting his solid response send randy love notes straight to her center. Wanting to run with the raw physical draw, she’d put the brakes on emotionally. Go slow, but why not take advantage of their little gift?

  Yes, she thought. Yes, yes. Until Mark’s cell phone blared “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.” To make matters worse, when Mark answered the obvious tune he’d selected for his grandfather, still wrapped in their tight embrace, Padraig was on FaceTime. Her face was right there along with Mark’s, no doubt looking flushed and flustered from the best make-out session she’d had since Saturday night at the beach.

  “Any word?” Mark asked, recovering quicker than she had. She zipped out of view of the camera, rather than look at that craggy face and the knowing eyes of Padraig Delaney.

  “Ted Wright will be around in an hour. I told him to expect cookies and lemonade.”

  “Thanks, Grandda.”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said off-camera. “I really appreciate it.”

  Mark moved the phone to capture her again, and she ducked and pushed his hand away, not wanting the old man to see her kiss-swollen lips.

  “You’re welcome. Carry on,” he said before clicking off.

  Laurel looked at Mark, leftover lust lingering in his gaze. Her breasts were still tight, but the call had defused whatever mojo they’d been working on. Still her eyes remained on those beautiful blues, until she did the only thing she could think to release the thick sexual tension in the tiny pantry. She broke into a laugh, and Mark joined her.

  “Whew,” she said, jokingly wiping her brow. “Who knows where we would’ve wound up if he didn’t call.”

  Mark glanced at the long island counter, and some of her lost heat flared up again. He swallowed. “Sorry,” he said. “I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize.” She kissed him one last time, keeping distance between their bodies. “Apparently, I’ve got some baking to do.”

  She got down to assembling bowls and cups, flou
r, sugar, butter, the works, measuring and mixing, and heating the oven. Anything to get her mind off the man driving her crazy in the pantry.

  He popped in the new fuses and cleaned up around the box, and a few short minutes later, after checking out the upstairs lights, he kissed her cheek and took off.

  Holding a large stainless steel bowl, mixing butter and brown sugar, she stared out the window and let herself imagine what might have happened if they hadn’t gotten that damn, but necessary, call.

  Then reality kicked in, flooding her with memories of the pain and loss when Alan died, and she thanked her lucky stars nothing had happened with Mark.

  *

  Less than a week later, Wednesday midmorning, Mark, still fixated on memories of an exceptionally hot kiss with Laurel, put the finishing touches on the white-shingled roof of the hexagonal-shaped gazebo. He’d wanted to leave the cedar wood alone with a natural stain, but his mother had her own plan.

  “If we want to use this for weddings, it has to be white,” Maureen said, her ginger-colored hair lifting with the light breeze.

  “But it looks so classy this way,” he said, at the top of the ladder.

  “You can leave the floor natural wood with a polyurethane stain, but honestly, honey, our whole point of building this was for weddings. And weddings say white.”

  “Whatever.” He’d learned throughout his life, once his mother got an idea in her head, she couldn’t be convinced otherwise. “I’ll have Peter help me paint it this weekend.”

  “Thank you.” Maureen stopped momentarily as his words sunk in. “You mean that boy?”

  “Yeah, the kid I’m giving surf lessons to. It’s like payback.”

  “Sounds fair enough.” She lingered, watching him. He could see the battle going on behind her green stare, the dozens of questions she’d like to ask, but had the good sense not to bring up. “Have you thought more about starting surf lessons for our guests?”

  “Aren’t I doing enough already?” He hated how he’d sounded like a teenager grumbling about chores, but it seemed every day Mom thought up more ways to get him involved in the running of the hotel, and he didn’t want to take on anything else.

  “I could have sworn you’d offered, that Sunday night at dinner?”

  True, he had. In a moment of weakness, when his parents were throwing out ideas for new perks and activities to entice more guests. His new sister-in-law, Keela, had signed on to give massages, Dan offered to give some talks on the importance of daily exercise, and even Conor thought he could squeeze in an occasional Saturday morning nature hike for guests. What was Mark supposed to do, just sit there and stuff his mouth with pot roast? So he’d thrown out the idea of beginning surf lessons, never expecting his parents to take him up on it. “Did I?” Okay, so he’d play dumb and hope she’d forget the whole thing out of frustration.

  “Yes, you most certainly did.” She turned in time to see Laurel approaching. “This conversation isn’t over.”

  “Got it. Okay.”

  It had been nearly a week since he’d stolen more kisses. Things had been going smoothly between them, and their romance had stepped up the more they hung out together. Like they were feeling each other out, sometimes literally, though neither ready for anything full-blown. He’d decided to take his time and enjoy whatever it was they had going on, and Laurel seemed to have the same idea. She was a mom with three kids, and he was a guy who still resisted responsibility. The likelihood of their getting serious was slim, and so far they hadn’t crossed any lines. Though they’d come awfully close that day in the kitchen pantry. For now, that was okay. But he’d been feeling almost happy-go-lucky, something he hadn’t felt since high school, and Laurel had everything to do with it.

  So he kept telling himself there was no pressure on any level between him and Laurel, just lighthearted flirting and kisses. Mind-boggling kisses. Besides, they wouldn’t be able to find the privacy even if they wanted to do more. But he wasn’t complaining, he’d enjoy what he had, while it lasted. Some days he even thought he’d found a part of himself he’d lost during the war.

  Anyway, she deserved a whole lot more than what little he could offer. In fact, he wondered why she hadn’t figured that out already.

  “Well, hello there,” his mother said. Mark could imagine the raised brow by the tone of her voice.

  “Hi, Mrs. Delaney,” Laurel said with a smile. “I’ve come to borrow your son for a quick carpentry issue, if you don’t mind.”

  “Hopefully he has some spare time. I’ve been keeping him awfully busy.”

  Could she be more obvious? Something told him he’d be giving surf lessons to more than Peter in the near future, too. Mark climbed down the ladder, his tool belt in place, and approached the women, always happy to see Laurel.

  “And please, call me Maureen, we’re neighbors.”

  “Thank you…Maureen.”

  His mother cast her glance from Laurel to Mark, and he was hit with expectations, hers. The subtle pressure took a little of the shine off his upbeat attitude from seeing Laurel. “Hi. What’s up?” he said, enjoying the glint of sun in her caramel eyes.

  “I swear this old house shifts overnight. I’ve got a couple of sticky guest closet doors, and I think they either need to be rehung or have some wood shaved off.”

  “Sounds easy enough.” Since Maureen lingered watching them, Mark kept his distance, but he was quick to decide. “Let’s go.”

  Once inside her house, he followed her up the stairs, enjoying the subtle sway of her jeans-clad hips. At the top, before Laurel had the chance to open the first guest room door, he took her hand and tugged her to him, then dropped a kiss on her lips. It’d been a few days since they’d kissed, and he didn’t feel like waiting another minute.

  Her arms circled his neck and she returned the favor as he walked her against the wall, and leaned in for more. He nuzzled her neck, enjoying the silky warm skin and the fact her hair was in a ponytail, clueing him in this was a workday. Though wanting to linger right there, kissing and cuddling with the woman who had his total interest, he understood necking wasn’t the reason she’d come to get him. So after one more thoroughly satisfying kiss, one that would leave her craving more, and him having to adjust himself inside his jeans, he backed off.

  “Is this the room?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered over his ear, her arms still tight around his neck.

  He edged back, imagining that answer was to a totally different question. Their gazes met and melded with understanding for an instant, shooting a fine line of adrenaline down his middle.

  “I wish we weren’t always in a hurry,” she said, a sincere and inviting glint in her eyes.

  “I wish this house didn’t have so many bedrooms. Way too tempting.”

  That made her smile in a shy way. He touched his forehead to hers, detecting and enjoying the scent of fabric softener on her top. On her, even dryer sheet fragrance was sexy.

  “So you gonna let me fix those doors, or are you gonna keep distracting me?”

  She inhaled, a slow smile stretching those delicious lips. “You started it.”

  He let his eyes do the smiling, then reluctantly let her go. Shifting back to business, they went inside where she showed him the sticky closet door in room number one. He opened and closed it, checked the hinges, ran his hand along the top, then dropped to his knees to check out the bottom.

  She’d retreated to the room’s exit, but he sensed she still watched him.

  “You’re the distraction,” she said quietly, before leaving the room, and setting the hair on the back of his neck on end.

  The house had six fancy guest rooms, but the one room he thought of right then was hers, on the first floor, with the antique bed frame, and the half dozen different ways he’d like to see her on it.

  Within a minute of reaching his supply shed to retrieve a scribe tool, a belt sander, a hand-sanding block and sawhorses, his mother reappeared.

  “The neighborl
y thing to do would be to invite Laurel and her family over for dinner Sunday night.”

  “She’s been here nearly a month, and now you’re thinking of being neighborly?”

  “I took her a welcome basket the week she moved in.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, I did. We’ve had several conversations. She never told you?”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, it never came up, no.”

  “Daniel, Keela and Anna are coming Sunday for dinner. This would be the perfect time to have Laurel and the kids over.”

  Not at all sure if he wanted to share Laurel with his family yet, he hesitated. “Would you like me to invite her?”

  Getting the last item he needed, he shut the toolshed. “Nope. I’ll take care of it.” And he headed back across the street.

  *

  An hour later, when the girls were home from school and playing in their bedroom, Laurel sat in the kitchen, sorting through her menu list of special breakfast dishes for the weekend guests. A chorizo, egg, shredded potatoes and cheddar cheese casserole caught her attention.

  Mark appeared at the door, and her heart tripped on a beat. Could a man look any sexier than when leaning against a door, arms crossed, in a tight T-shirt and with a tool belt strapped on his low-slung jeans? “All done?” She pretended she hadn’t noticed a single sexy thing.

  “Yeah, they’re both fixed. You want to check before I go?” He hiked his thumb over his shoulder, breaking the picture-perfect pose.

  “I’m sure they’re fine. Thanks.” She put the menus on the island counter and stood. “Can I pay you back with dinner tonight? You, me…and the kids?” She batted her lashes.

  “Sounds very romantic.” He stepped closer, reaching for her hand. Their fingers played touch-and-go, her daughters giggling and squealing down the hall.

  “I know.” She sensed the longing in his gaze and wondered if he could read her thoughts. Because lately she’d had plenty. Involving just the two of them. But that would require so many arrangements and preparations, there couldn’t be any hope of spontaneity, which used to be most of the fun, as she recalled. A long, long time ago.