I close my eyes as a giant sigh of relief sails from my lips. “You’re joking.”
“Fuck! Of course I’m joking. Have you seen my condo? Half the time I’m not sure I should dress myself.”
My eyes drift over his gray shorts and black golf shirt. Even in ratty sweatpants, Brett would always looks good.
He slips his hand through mine. “Come on, I want to show you something else. It’s another idea I have.”
“Oh, really.” I should be furious with him, but my excitement is overshadowing everything.
He unfastens the lock on the French doors. I inhale the smell of wet grass as we step out onto the covered porch. A large wrought-iron table sits in the center and around it are lounge chairs with plush rust-colored cushions. They’re well kept but not brand-new and I know he didn’t have these at his condo, so I’m guessing the old owners left them behind.
“When did they move their things out?”
“Tuesday. It closed yesterday.”
“That’s . . .” I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. He only learned about this house—what it meant to Brenna and me—a few weeks ago. That means he’s been negotiating this behind my back all this time, and quickly.
That phone call.
The night we stayed at his condo in Philly, I overheard him talking to someone, telling them to offer whatever they wanted, that he didn’t want it getting back to me.
This is what he was talking about.
“That was fast” is all I can manage.
He frowns, scratching at a tiny crack in one of the glass panels of the French door, saying almost absently, “People will do anything for enough money.”
I think I’m going to be sick.
Brett must notice my face paling, just imagining what he must have thrown at them to get them to up and move just like that. “It’s a smart investment, Cath. For me.”
“And sorry, tell me, what were you going to name this inn?”
He twists his lips. “I haven’t figured that out yet. I’m sure it’ll come to me, though.”
“Right . . .”
He gestures at the open space next to the porch, where a flagstone patio currently resides. “I want to build one of those glass rooms over there.” His face scrunches up with confusion. “What are they called?”
“A conservatory?”
“Yeah. Exactly. I’ve always wanted one, and when I looked at that open space, I just knew that’s what had to go there.”
I can’t help the deep belly laugh that slips from my lips as I listen to him regurgitate almost word for word my plans for the Gingerbread House.
“What?” He turns and heads back into the house, but not before I catch the struggle not to smile in his jaw.
“Nothing. It’s just . . .” I’m speechless. He’s planned this all out perfectly, but I’m not fooled. Not for one second. I’m sure that in an hour or two the shock will wear off, but until then, there’s a sizable prickly knot in my throat. “I’m having a very hard time . . .” Accepting this, I want to say, but Brett hasn’t officially offered anything for me to accept. I settle on “. . . picturing this.”
He leads me into the kitchen. “I’m not. Not at all. It’s pretty damn obvious to me,” he says softly, his eyes full of hope as he closes in on me.
Are we still talking about the Gingerbread House?
I thought the house was quiet before, but now I’d hear a ghost shuffle by in the silence between us.
I clear my throat. “What are you going to do with it when you’re on the ice again?”
He reaches up to cradle the back of my head between both hands, so gently. “I can probably find someone to run it. If I’m ever back on the ice.” That lingering shadow hangs in his gaze. It pushes aside my current anger with him for spending this kind of money on something undoubtedly for me.
I settle my hands on his arms, rubbing his biceps soothingly. “What did they tell you today?”
Brett sighs. “My doctor seems a lot happier with the healing this time around, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be able to skate like I could before. We just have to wait and see.” His thumbs drag along the nape off my neck and I shiver. “So I’m gonna keep myself busy with things. Things that make me happy.” Humor touches his lips. “Some smart little kid told me to do that.”
“And buying this house made you happy?”
If that crooked smile isn’t enough for me right now, the dimple that pops in his cheek sure is. “Buying this house made me the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” He leans in to steal a kiss before pulling away. “Come on, let’s go see the rest of it.”
Slowly, Brett leads me through the five sizable bedrooms on the second floor, amusing me with “his ideas” for where to build the bathrooms and how to refinish the fireplaces, and then to the third floor, to my favorite room—the attic.
“Did you know you can see the lake from the window” he asks, taking my hand and pulling me to the dormer.
“No. I had no idea.” I take in the expanse of manicured grass stretching toward the dark blue water, some hundred yards back. A few sailboats drift in the distance. The sell sheet showed a long, narrow dock and a rocky shoreline, but I have yet to see them in person. “Whatever will you do with all this land?” I ask mockingly, picturing the gardens and gazebo I had planned for it. A perfect venue for small weddings.
“Not sure yet. I have so much to focus on in here first.” He takes in the vast empty room, his steps echoing. “I’ve hired Niya Kalpar to help with designing it. She’s done some of the inns in Napa Valley. She’s going to work off the concept sketches I sent her.”
My brows spike. “Sketches?”
“My own, of course. I’ve been working on them awhile.” He’s barely able to keep his amusement in check, his nostrils flaring. “Niya says I’m extremely talented.”
“Ugh!” I grit my teeth with frustration, even as I’m trying not to laugh at the insanity of all this. I’ll yell at him for stealing my sketchbook later. “How long are you going to keep this charade going?”
“As long as necessary.” He closes the distance again, dipping down to press his forehead against mine. “Please don’t fight me on this.”
I shake my head. “I’m furious with you.”
“I can tell.” He nips at my bottom lip with his teeth, tugging it a bit before he lays a soothing kiss against it. It turns into another, and then another, until I feel myself being sandwiched between the wall and Brett’s hard body.
“You’re not going to distract me with—”
He cuts off my words with a deep kiss that buckles my knees. I rope my hands around his neck for support. “You sure about that?”
“You can’t just go and buy a—” My head thumps softly against the wall as he steals another deep kiss. His calloused hands begin to wander, his fingers tracing my rib cage and then drifting down to squeeze my hips the way he does when I’m riding him. A soft moan escapes me with the thought, earning his groan. He slips his hands under my dress.
And suddenly pulls back, his eyes widing with surprise. “That’s efficient.”