However, you can now read an excerpt from chapter one here at my website... or click below and read it here on my blog!
CHAPTER ONE
Clay Bradford swaggered into the Thompson Carpentry workshop like he owned the place. Lilah looked up from the boat hull she was sanding and forgot to breathe. As his piercing blue gaze searched her out, she fought to keep at bay the sensory memories of their time together. She glanced down at her left hand, at the gold band on her ring finger gleaming in the late afternoon sunshine that poured through the open doors at the front of the shop. Her stomach lurched. She had managed to avoid him for months. She stifled a sigh. Hiding from him forever wasn't an option, but she had hoped for more time.
Lilah stood and dropped the sandpaper to the floor beside her foot. "Hey, Bradford." She brushed her dark hair back from her face and forced a small smile. At least she could breathe again.
When Clay's lips curved, the lines at his eyes and around his mouth deepened, reminding Lilah just how long it had been since she had seen him smile.
"Hi, Lilah. I heard you were back." His expression faltered and he lifted his hat to run a big hand through his sandy-colored hair. "I'm sorry about Darren."
Lilah resisted the urge to wince. "Thanks," she said, trying to inject the appropriate emotion into her voice. She still wasn't sure what that should be. Demure acceptance? Quiet grief? The only thing she felt was mild embarrassment. There was no pang of sadness, no overwhelming sorrow. She didn't deserve the condolences, not from him, not from anybody. Lilah cleared her throat and avoided his eyes. He had always been able to read her too easily and she wasn't ready for that. "What can I do for you?"
Clay looked at her with patient understanding. She resisted the urge to scowl.
Accepting her change of subject, he said, "Mom's moving to a house in town, so I pulled some of great-grandma's furniture down from the attic for her. It needs some work." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Come have a look."
Lilah started for the front of the workshop. "So, you're finally going to be living on your own, huh?"
Clay shot her a dirty look. "Mom lives with me, you know."
"Oh, I know."
"Shut up." But he smiled.
Lilah took a deep breath as she stepped out of the shop. She had a soft spot for Gold Rush and the sprawling rural community, despite having spent most of her teenage years plotting her escape from Colorado. No matter what, it was still home. Lilah took a moment to soak up the sun and breathe in the warm mountain air. Rustling beside her reminded her that there was work to be done and she hurried over to the old Ford pickup. She peeked over the side of the bed as Clay lowered the tailgate.
Arranged carefully on a horse blanket was an antique spinet desk, a matching spindly-legged chair, two nightstands with drawers, and the pieces of a wooden four-poster bed. Lilah's eyes widened.
"Wow." She leaned in and turned over one of the bed legs to study the woodworking. "This is all Victorian."
"That sounds right. I'm pretty sure it was all part of great-grandma's dowry. It probably came from the family estate back in England."
Eyebrows raised--he could still surprise her--Lilah shot him a look. "Researching your family history? Really?"
He shrugged. "Winter nights get lonely and boring."
Laughing lightly and shaking her head, she turned back to the furniture. It was all high quality, solid wood. She tugged on the blanket to pull everything closer, wondering if she was up to the challenge. The spinet desk alone was the finest piece she had ever seen.
As she reached for the first nightstand, she felt Clay's eyes on her. Her skin heated but guilt churned in her gut. He still had the same old affect on her. 'Now with extra guilt!' Her inner voice was falsely cheerful and Lilah succumbed to the urge to scowl. It wasn't fair. She yanked the nightstand close and opened the drawer to examine the interior.
"Do you think you can restore it all?"
"When do you need it?"
Clay didn't immediately answer. Lilah shut the drawer and turned to him. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Bradford," she prompted, warning in her tone.
"Two weeks."
Lilah's jaw dropped. "Two weeks?!"
"I'm sorry, Lilah," he said sincerely. His eyes begged for forgiveness. "I've been meaning to bring this all to your dad for months, but the time got away from me. I only remembered today because Mom said something about moving at breakfast."
Sighing heavily, she rolled her eyes. "I can get it all done, but it'll cost you." She picked up the nightstand. "You can start by helping me unload everything into the shop."
He smiled, visibly relieved, and grabbed the second nightstand. As she started for the workshop, it occurred to her that he had probably been genuinely concerned. If she had known him at all, he had put off bringing everything over because of her dad's arthritis. Lilah felt a twinge of regret and it wasn't for Darren. She shook her head and set the nightstand down just inside the workshop. Regret wouldn't do her any good. Hadn't she learned that yet?
Together and silent, they made quick work of unloading the truck. Lilah put everything on a fresh plastic sheet on the floor in one half of the workshop while Clay lingered in the doorway. She stood up and put her hands on her hips, surveying the new project. The boat could wait; it wasn't due to be finished until at least August and she was already ahead of schedule. Seeing the Bradford furniture laid out made her realize that the job wasn't as big as she had first thought. It would require painstaking attention to detail, but two weeks was plenty of time for repair and refinishing. She faced Clay.
He was looking at her with the now-familiar sympathetic expression so many others had worn. Lilah tamped down her rising irritation.
"What?"
"I saw Eddie at the feed store the other day."
"What about him?"
"He said that Missy said that she hasn't had the chance to talk to you since you've been back." Clay leveled his eyes at her. "Have you talked to anyone?" he asked carefully.
Lilah bristled. He was starting to sound like her mother.. "Missy's not the only one with no time for old friends." She shrugged as if it didn't matter to her and cracked a wry smile. "The Navy pays for all the grief counseling I need."
"Why don't you come over tonight? I'll cook for you and the Navy doesn't have to pay me anything."
"I'm not sure..."
"Come on. Mom won't be home."
"What are you doing with your poor mother?" Lilah cocked an eyebrow.
Clay made a face. "I think she has a boyfriend," he grumbled.
There was a story she wanted to hear. "Yeah. Okay, yeah, dinner would be nice. But only if you promise to tell me about Karen."
Clay shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "We'll see." He hesitated, and then he leaned in and wrapped his arms around her.
Head tucked under his chin, arms around him, Lilah felt the old familiar flutter in her stomach. She tightened her hold on him and breathed in deeply. He hadn't changed his deodorant, she realized. 'And he's so warm.' Lilah closed her eyes. There had been plenty of hugs since she had gotten the news about Darren, but none of them had felt this good.
Clay pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I'm glad you're back. I wish it wasn't under these circumstances, but I'm glad you're back." He dropped his arms and stepped away.
Lilah felt suddenly dull and hollow. She tucked her suddenly useless hands into her pockets and stared up at him.
"Dinner's at 8:30." He looked around the shop. "Take a shower or something before you come over, huh?"
She managed to roll her eyes. "I'll be there. Get out of here."
Chuckling, Clay retreated. She watched the rusty red truck bounce along the dirt driveway and turn left at the county road that would take him to his ranch, the ranch Lilah's father had owned until she was twelve and the Bradfords bought it.
When he was gone, she turned to the new project, wondering if Clay still thought about her. If he remembered. If there was more to his offer than just a friendly ear to listen to her problems. She glanced once again down at her wedding ring.
***
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