A Kiss to Build a Dream On Read online

  Burk eyes darkened. “I don’t understand. You’re stopping this project? Now?”

  Willa nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m sure the bank loan will come through eventually. But I can’t let you continue if I can’t pay you.”

  Burk sat up. Willa followed suit. “I would have been looking for other work if I’d known this was going to end so suddenly. The crew—they’ll need another project.” His brow was suddenly lined, and Willa hated the stress she saw on his face.

  “I’ll pay you every cent I owe you for what you’ve done,” she said. “I’m good for what’s been completed so far. I just—I can’t guarantee anything more.”

  Burk pulled away from her, and the motion had Willa’s chest feeling hollow. For a long moment he didn’t say anything.

  “I could still buy it,” he offered finally. “To help you, I mean. I could even finish the remodel, and you could subtract it from the final price of the house.”

  Willa started. She thought they’d be able to talk about this as…friends. That she’d be able to trust him with the reality of the situation. She never expected he’d try to negotiate in the midst of her confession.

  “So I pay you to finish a house I won’t live in?” she asked.

  “Please. Listen to reason. You won’t sell it any other way. A half-remodeled home will sit on the market for months. What I’m offering—it makes sense for both of us.”

  She shook her head. “But my B and B—”

  “If you can get the loan, you can set up shop anywhere. The idea’s not dead, but if you can’t finish what you started in this house, then let me help.” Burk’s voice was warm, and yet there was something about his words that still seemed too…insistent.

  “Look,” he said, reaching out and placing his hand over hers, “maybe it’s best this way. We could even work out a deal where I could pay you to help with the interior decorating. It’ll still have your stamp on it. And it’s not like you won’t ever see the place again. But if you let me, I can finish this. I can give this house what it deserves.”

  Willa’s blood heated, in spite of what sounded like Burk’s good intentions. “What this house deserves?” she asked pointedly. “What is that, exactly?”

  Burk didn’t flinch. “Someone who can take care of it. Someone who knows what’s best for the structure.”

  “And that would be you, obviously.”

  Burk nodded. “I want the house, Willa. I won’t deny it. I’ve wanted this place since it was abandoned. I’ve been taking care of it for years, and I even started purchase negotiations with your mom about it before she died. When the title passed to you, I thought for sure you’d just put it on the market. When you didn’t and you came back to White Pine, I thought…”

  He trailed off.

  “You thought what, exactly?”

  “I thought you would just leave again. Like last time.”

  The words stung. “But I haven’t left. I’m not going to. And I’m not sure how you can sit there and talk about taking the house back like you don’t care what I’m trying to do here.”

  Burk scowled. “Because I don’t care. Not about the B and B anyway. It’s your dream, not mine. And as for you, I had no idea we could be close again. When you first turned up, I thought you were the same person who left and broke my heart. I didn’t want you to take my house, too.”

  “Your house?” Willa stood and snatched her clothes from the bedroom floor. “This is my house, Burk Olmstead. Let’s both be goddamned clear about that.”

  Burk exhaled slowly. “That came out wrong. I’m not trying to—”

  “Was this part of it?” Willa asked, yanking on her jeans and shirt. “Was getting me into bed part of a plan to get the house back? Because who’s going to be easier to fuck over than someone you’ve literally fucked, right?”

  “Willa, no. This was your idea—”

  “Oh, sure. My idea, which you conveniently agreed to because maybe it will get you the house faster.”

  Mortified that tears were suddenly coursing down her face, Willa turned away. Her chest stung with the same hurt she’d felt when she’d discovered Lance had been stealing from her.

  “Get out,” she said, marching to the doorway. “Get out of my house.”

  “Willa, please, I can’t leave like this. It’s a misundersta—”

  “You can and you will,” she said, her whole body shaking. “And you’ll take your stupid crew and never come back. Do you understand me?”

  Burk’s brows drew together. His jaw hardened. “Twelve years I’ve been looking after this place while you’ve been living in New York. I’ve cut weeds and mowed the lawn and replaced boards on just about every surface. This place meant something to me before it ever meant something to you. So don’t sit here and lecture me like you have loved this house the same as I have.”

  “Loved it enough to hurt someone over it, apparently,” Willa retorted, walking back into the room so she could scoop up his pants and shirt from the ground.

  “Hey, give me those.”

  Willa turned her back to him and stomped down the hallway. She heard him grumbling and swearing behind her.

  She dashed down the stairs and headed for the front door. “You will never come back here,” she cried, opening the front door. “You will never touch me again!” She flung his clothes into the piles of snow outside.

  “Jesus!” he cried, pushing past her and wading into the mounds of powder wearing just his boxer shorts. “You are crazy, you know that?”

  “I’d rather be crazy than care about a bunch of wood and nails more than a person!” she yelled as he worked to retrieve his jeans and shirt.

  Willa was ready to slam the door—never mind Burk’s coat and car keys and boots—when both of them realized there was a figure at the end of the walkway. He was hunched and shaking, silently watching the fight.

  “You got a problem, nosy neighbor?” Willa shouted into the deepening twilight. Her voice echoed along the quiet street.

  The stranger raised a single hand. “Hello, W-Willa.”

  Her stomach churned. She wondered if she might be sick.

  Lance had decided to pay her a visit after all.

  * * *

  Burk pulled on his clothes right there on the front porch, his eyes darting from Willa back to Lance. His feet were bare, and he must have been freezing, but he never let on that he was cold.

  “Can I help you?” he asked Lance. Willa elbowed him out of the way.

  “Oh, for crying out loud. Don’t try and play hero now.” She motioned for Lance to come up to the house.

  “You picked a hell of an afternoon for a visit,” she told him as he waded through calf-high snow to get to her.

  When Lance reached the porch, she realized he was dangerously pale. His lips sported a bluish tint, and his brown hair, normally curled and styled to perfection, was hanging limply around his face.

  “My c-car stalled out about a m-mile away,” he said, his perfect teeth chattering. “I c-couldn’t get any r-r-reception on my phone a-and I had to w-walk.”

  Willa glanced at his feet and grimaced when she saw he was wearing loafers.

  “Cripes,” she swore. “Get inside.”

  She didn’t even argue when Burk followed them both in. “Take off your shoes and socks,” she told Lance. “Go upstairs and get in the shower right now. Bathroom’s the second door on the right. The shower only gets lukewarm, but it’s probably going to feel scalding to you. I’ll get you a towel and something else to wear.”

  Lance nodded and headed up the stairs—too tired and dazed even to question her logic. Burk turned to Willa the moment he was out of sight.

  “Who is that?”

  “None of your business. Now go.”

  Burk straightened, towering above her. “I will not leave you here with a strange man.”

  Willa folded her arms. “He’s not a stranger. He’s my ex. Now will you please get out?”

  For a brief moment, Willa almost regretted th
e ferocity in her tone. Burk’s eyes flashed hurt and something else. Regret perhaps. He shook his head.

  “I was trying to help,” he said. “I can’t apologize for trying to save a place I’ve already saved for years.” He looked like he was going to say something more, but stopped in mid-thought. Instead, he grabbed his coat and boots and truck keys, and walked silently away. Willa bolted the door shut behind him and tried to ignore the dull ache in her heart.

  * * *

  Willa scrounged around while Lance was in the shower, and managed to find two mugs. The microwave had been tossed into the basement, so she could at least plug it in and heat some water. Never mind that she couldn’t find the tea. Hot water was better than nothing at all.

  She busied herself around the house so she didn’t have to answer the nagging voices at the back of her head.

  Were she and Burk over?

  Were they ever not over?

  What was Lance doing here?

  Did he expect to spend the night?

  When she finally heard the water in the bathroom stop, she grabbed the biggest pair of sweatpants she had and a sweatshirt, and left them just outside the door, along with a fresh towel.

  “Everything you need is outside the door,” she called to Lance. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”

  “All right,” came the muffled reply.

  There was nowhere to sit downstairs, really, so Willa lowered herself next to the blue table in the living room. Beside her were extra blankets she’d pilfered from the hallway closet, figuring Lance might still need them to warm up. As she listened to her ex puttering around upstairs, she took a deep, calming breath. Everything is going to be fine, she told herself, even though her heart was shredded into a million frayed pieces after what had occurred with Burk.

  White Pine is not New York, she thought determinedly.

  It’s all going to work out.

  Except that she’d just been hurt by someone she’d unexpectedly come to care for all over again. If she was honest with herself, then she had to admit there was a part of her that had hoped she and Burk might get close again—maybe even truly be together instead of just screwing around.

  She placed her face in her hands. What a fool she’d been. She’d told Burk the truth and he’d tried to take the house from her. If he had to pick, he’d pick the structure over her.

  The reality made her breathless with hurt.

  “Are you all right?”

  Willa looked up to see Lance at the foot of the stairs wearing her gray yoga pants and an oversized white sweatshirt with a heart on the chest.

  “I should be asking that of you,” she replied, stifling an unexpected grin at his attire. “How are you feeling?”

  “Warmer,” he said simply, walking toward her. His long, lean legs ate up the space between them in a few steps. He folded himself next to the table, grabbing one of the extra blankets and draping it across them both. Willa scooted away a few inches. She still wasn’t sure what Lance was doing there, besides violating the terms of his bond, and she wasn’t convinced she was going to let him stay very long.

  “That’s your water,” she said, motioning to the steaming mug on the blue table. He wrapped his hands around it.

  “Hot water?”

  “It’s all I had.”

  “In that case, thank you.”

  A moment passed, during which Lance sipped from his mug and took in the roughed floors, the bare lightbulbs, and the bright white plaster. It must be taking all his willpower not to tell me what a dump I’m living in, Willa thought. Of course, it was better than a jail cell, which was where he might be headed, so he was in no place to judge.

  She studied Lance’s aquiline nose, his light brown hair, his lean frame and small chin. It was the same as she’d remembered, and yet so much about Lance was strange to her. She hadn’t left him that long ago, but he still seemed like someone she barely even knew anymore.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she said finally. “If the judge finds out you’ve left New York, you’re going to be in huge trouble.”

  Lance smiled at her, but there was little warmth in it. “I came to talk. In person.”

  “About what?” Willa knew she sounded rude, but she didn’t feel like sugarcoating anything. It had already been a long day.

  “About our situation. About how sorry I am.”

  “Right. You made that clear.”

  “I need you,” Lance said. “If I get through this, I want you to know, I’ll spend my life making this whole mess up to you.”

  She studied his eyes, a dark so brown they were almost black. Flinty, she used to call them. “Lance, this has to stop. I appreciate it, but you need to go back to New York. I’ve had enough of guys I can’t trust for a while.”

  Lance’s eyes glinted with cold amusement. “Lovers’ quarrel earlier, I take it?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “No, of course not,” Lance agreed. But she could still detect the humor in his tone.

  He set down his mug and turned to face her fully. “I have insulted you enough, Willa,” he said, folding his long, lean fingers together. “You deserve the truth, so I’m not going to beat around the bush here.”

  She almost sighed with relief. Finally, someone was going to be forthright.

  Lance cleared his throat. “I need cash, and I need you to give it to me.”

  Her mouth nearly fell open. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m broke, and I need cash. I will pay you back, even though I realize trusting me on that front will be exquisitely difficult.”

  Willa could only stare at him.

  He continued. “I am going to prison, Willa. It’s foolish to think that I won’t. I know the outcome of this trial before it’s started. We all do. And while I admit that what I did was very, very wrong, I’m not sure I want to be ass-raped for the rest of my life as a result. I admitted my wrongs, and I’m sorry. Truly. But I need to make a new start somewhere. Except I have nothing left with which to do that. So I need your help.”

  “You want me to give you cash so you can flee the country?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  Willa could feel her eyes widen. This guy was unbelievable. “I’m suing you, for crying out loud. I’m listed on the lawsuit. Do you not get that?”

  “But I need money. Badly.”

  “So do I, as it happens. You wiped me out.”

  “I was trying to help us. I was trying to make more. I was stupid, but not malicious.”

  “You still lost it.”

  Lance looked around. “But you still have some funds somewhere. I saw a Volvo in the driveway, and you’re doing repairs on this house. You must have a honey hole stashed away somewhere. Please, just give me a few grand. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  “No!”

  Lance smiled sadly. “You sound so sure.”

  “You can beg until you’re blue,” Willa said icily, “but you’re not getting a dime from me. In fact, I think you should go before I call the judge and tell him where you are.”

  Lance’s face crumpled in desperation. “If you help me, Willa, I will never forget it. When I’m back on my feet, I’ll return the favor. With interest.”

  “How about you return to me the millions that you already stole, and then we’ll talk?”

  Lance shook his head. “I’m so sorry, and I wish that I could. But I can’t. Not now anyway. This is a last-ditch effort to save my skin, and I’m appealing to the love you certainly must still feel for me. I need help. I don’t want to die in prison.”

  Willa set down her mug angrily. “You should have thought about that before you stole everyone’s money.”

  Lance stared at her. “I know you must be furious. We had a good life in New York, you and I. Before I fucked it all up. And I am so sorry. For hurting you. If you don’t hear anything else I say tonight, at least hear me on that front. I hurt you, and I’m very sorry.”

  Willa studied his bottoml
ess eyes and grudgingly allowed herself to admit that perhaps he wasn’t lying about that. Lance was smooth, but he wasn’t prone to sentimental bullshit. Still, Willa skated past it, more interested in getting him out of her house already.

  “I need you to go,” she said, standing. “I need you to leave and go back to New York before I tell everyone where you are.”

  Lance stood, too. He stared at her. “Come with me.”

  “What?”

  “When I go, you should come.” He waved his hand at the sparse room. “This isn’t you. This small town? You’re better than this. Fly away with me. Tomorrow, we’ll find my rental car and return to the airport. We’ll go somewhere warm and remote and beautiful, and you can leave this Podunk holler behind forever.”

  Willa swallowed. Much as she hated to admit it, there was some honey in Lance’s words. The idea of fleeing this impossible situation—with Burk, with the house, with the bank—had its appeal.

  But that appeal had nothing to do with Lance. She could never trust him again. And if Willa had learned one thing from her time here, it was that she was part of this “Podunk holler” now, and it wasn’t so bad. It was time to stop running from her roots, and start embracing them.

  “You can sleep on the floor tonight,” Willa said finally. “In the morning, I’ll take you back to your car. That’s all I’m going to do.”

  Lance grasped her hand with his. His fingers were still icily cold.

  “I understand. I appreciate you hearing me out. It’s more than I would have done for someone who had hurt me as much as I hurt you.”

  Willa pulled her hand away. At least she’d gotten a face-to-face apology from his unexpected visit. But now she was ready for the snow to stop so he could be on his way.

  “I still love you, Willa. I always will.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Get some sleep. In the morning you can leave and try to find someone else who cares about your crap.”