Derek groaned and his whole body stiffened for a hot minute. “There’s a challenge there.”
She shrugged, her blue eyes sparkling. God, she was a puzzle. Holding his hands up, he stepped back from her. His chest itched where her hand had just been, and he refrained from running his own down the front of himself.
“Then let’s get a move on,” he added.
She turned and bent down to open the chest behind her. He looked at her ass for a while, he was a guy and she had a great ass, before heading over to the opened crates of dishes and stuff.
“So do you want to bring all of these dishes back to your house?”
“Yes, please,” she said absently. “I’ll go through the crates back at my house. We can stash them in my garage.”
The crates were filled with that excelsior stuff that was like shredded wood or paper. She’d pulled some of it out and a few of the plates were jumbled.
“For somebody so OCD you sure left a mess in here.”
“OCD?” She tilted her head, her ponytail slipping to one side. “Are you calling me anal?”
“It’s just that you’re usually so put together.” He ran his gaze over her smudged clothes and the excelsior tangled in her hair. “Although, right now? Not so much.”
Her cheeks flushed as pink as her shirt sleeves. “I’m a working girl. Or did you not pick up on that, Due Diligence?”
He’d stuck his foot in it, apparently, but he wasn’t quite sure how. He sure didn’t want her pissed at him. Again.
“I know you work hard, Bree. I just meant that you always look so pressed and proper.”
One pale brow arched and her full lips pursed. “Pressed and proper? You’ve been watching too much PBS.”
He laughed at that. Actually, he realized he laughed more around her over the past few days than he’d laughed over the past year.
“I come from Bah-ston, as you said. I know proper.”
She leaned against the open chest and crossed her arms. “Yes, you have that written all over you. What, exactly, is your background?”
“Nope. I’m not telling you mine until you tell me yours.”
“And that is so not happening.”
“You, Bree James, are a woman with a past.”
That made her smile. “You can’t get it out of me, counselor.”
He mirrored her stance. “I’m willing to bet you’d break on the cross.”
“And tell you everything? Keep dreaming.”
“Another challenge?”
She ran her hands over her hair and took a breath. “You’re a little infuriating, do you know that?”
“Honestly, no one has ever called me that before.”
“That is surprising.”
“I’ll let you have that one.”
“Giving me the point?”
“Is this a game?”
Her gaze ran over him and he felt it like a long, slow stroke. His jeans grew a little tight but his untucked shirt probably hid any evidence that might incriminate him.
“I don’t play, Derek. Ever.”
“Now that is a shame.”
They worked in relative silence after that little exchange. He got her to agree to let him buy lunch, and they shared a meal of drive-through burgers and fries. After that, Derek just did whatever she instructed. Move this. Open that. Tote that barge, lift that bale. He smiled to himself as yet another nautical reference clanged through his brain. Back when he’d first learned to sail, he had the most fun going out with his uncle Jackson.
His mother’s brother was a lot of laughs, and one of the reasons Derek liked him so much was that the man was nothing like his father. He came from as much privilege and money as Eddie but he wore it like a comfortable sweater instead of a straightjacket. It was only after Eddie had heard Derek praising him one too many times that he’d taken over Derek’s tutelage. That was a dark day, as far as he was concerned. Derek had been about eight years old.
Eddie was no teacher. He was a taskmaster. A tyrant. He would make Derek do a task over and over until he got it right, using verbal and sometimes physical abuse to get his particular points across.
Derek brushed the dust off of his palms and glanced down at his hands. His skin still bore the scars of Eddie’s lessons. He’d lost count of how many times he’d coiled and uncoiled the ropes on that day. The cold, rain-slick hemp had sliced at his small hands but Eddie hadn’t cared. His tender palms had blistered, scabbed, and split again and again.
The argument his parents had later that night had been horrific. His mother had railed at Eddie for hurting Derek and his father had argued that “the little pussy” had to toughen up. As he held Abby close to him—she’d come to his room during the night—he’d silently vowed to toughen up. To get tough enough to hit Eddie back. It would take eight more years, but the first time he’d punched his father it had been the last. Until last year, that was. Last year he’d punched him and taken him to the cleaners.
“I guess that’s it for now,” Bree said.
She stood near the truck, her eyes on the interior of the storage unit. It was still filled to the gills.
“Are you sure?”
She shrugged and rubbed a hand over her cheek. More dirt streaked her face now. “I can always come back. It’ll take me some time to go through the crates anyway.”
“Just let me know and I’ll fetch and carry again.”
“You don’t have to do that, Derek.”
“I know.”
She searched his face but he had no idea what she was looking for. It didn’t really matter, since he was so good at keeping any hint of true expression hidden.
“Thank you.” She brightened beneath the dirt and dust. “I just might take you up on that.”
He helped her close up and tidy the unit a little and then made sure everything was secure in the bed of the truck. She hadn’t picked out any big pieces, other than that carved chest. It wasn’t long before she was locking up the place with that funny purple-tasseled key. It was nearly three o’clock. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a whole day with a woman who wasn’t his sister or mother.
“So how about that dinner?” he asked as he turned the truck back towards Cypress.
“You’re on.” She held up a hand. “But only if you still want to after helping me tote this stuff into my garage.”
“I wouldn’t bet against that.”
***
Bree walk into the Town Tavern with Derek close behind her. He’d returned Eli’s truck after their heavy lifting and insisted on driving to dinner in his Lexus. She’d admitted, to herself at least, that his car was pretty sweet. Then again, she was kind of partial to automotive flash.
The girl at the hostess stand, Becky Rollins’ sister Joy, smiled at her and raised her eyebrows comically when she spied Derek. He did look really good tonight, wearing his own brand of upscale casual. His khaki chinos fit just right and his white button-down shirt boasted the thinnest blue lines. He wore suede oxfords but somehow managed to look just this side of stuffy.
It was after six on a Saturday, and the place was filling up. Most of the people she worked with came here, either to grab a surprisingly-good pizza to go or a bag of burgers. They did a pretty good salmon and their salads were inspired. It sure beat the heck out of the Clubhouse, which was adjacent. It was way too upscale for her comfort and reminded her of stifling dinners with her parents.
“This is a pretty popular place,” Derek said as they took up a spot to wait for their table.
“Not much choice in Cypress, I’m afraid. Not in the evening, anyway.”
“I’ve only grabbed take-out from here. No room service at the inn.”
She nodded. Ugh, small talk. This felt very date-y, given his clothes and the fact that she’d slipped into a sleeveless dress covered in watercolor flowers and a pair of sandals. She really didn’t want to think about it that way, though. She was repaying him for all of his help, and God help him if he tried to pay the check. What’s wrong with a girl wanting to look nice on a Saturday night, right?
Joy waved them over and they followed her to a small two-top set near the stone fireplace. The tavern was styled to resemble an English pub and it had a cozy feel the Clubhouse couldn’t begin to project. Dark wood paneling, green-shaded lights, not to mention the fireplace, made the restaurant feel relaxed and intimate at the same time. The resemblance to a date intensified but she soldiered on, draping her thin pink cardigan on the back of the chair before settling down on it.
“Your server will be right with you,” Joy said. “Meanwhile, can I get you two anything to drink?”
Derek raised his brows to Bree, obviously letting her order first. “A glass of pinot, please Joy.”
“Sam Adams.”
Joy left and Bree raised her brows at him now. “Sam Adams?”
“Hey, you can take the guy out of Bah-ston…”
She laughed, feeling herself relax a little. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all of your help today, Derek.”
“I don’t know how thankful you’ll be as you go through all of those boxes stacked in your garage.”
“Baby steps. I’m not in any hurry to unpack everything.”
“How long have you lived in your house?”
“About a year now.”
“And you haven’t unpacked?” His smile was crooked. “Baby steps is right.”
She waved a hand. “I unpacked. I just didn’t have a lot of stuff. Just clothes and a few dishes and stuff.”
“You traveled light then.”
It wasn’t a question but it made her stop and think for a second. She fingered the string of pearls at her neck. “I guess I did.”
Joy dropped their drinks at their table and hurried back to the hostess stand.
Derek turned his pilsner glass on the table top. “I didn’t bring much with me from Boston, either.”
“You have a whole lot more house to fill than I do.”
“It won’t just be me.” He looked like he was going to say more, but then he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Did he have a girlfriend who would be joining him in Cypress? He didn’t act like a guy with a girlfriend. Not when he was kissing her lips off.
“Maybe you can come with me to pick out some furniture,” he said, dragging her mind away from that kiss.
“That’s really Jessie’s thing,” she said. “She’s the one who stages the models, primarily.”
“She does a good job. The model you showed me last week felt like a home.”
“That’s her specialty. Although I’m surprised you noticed anything during that tour.”
“Why?”
“Derek, you ran through there like your hair was on fire.”
He blinked at her, then his expression cleared. “I had a lot of things on my mind. I’m sorry if I was rude.”
“Another apology?” The guy was racking them up all right.
He shrugged in answer, but she suspected he was going to say he was sorry again. They each opened their menus and focused on that for a while. The server, a tall kid she thought also worked at the town market, came and took their orders. A burger for him and the pulled chicken sandwich for her.
Derek took a sip of his beer and set it back down. “Have you decided where you want to put that humongous chest?”
“It’s a hope chest, I’ll have you know.”
“Your grandmother had a whole lot of hope.”
“A joke? Derek, are you turning all charming on me?”
“Just making conversation, Bree.”
“Then thank you again for carrying that inside for me.”
He snorted and lifted his pilsner glass in a toast. “To no more thanks.”
She caught his meaning in a flash and raised her glass in answer. “To no more apologies.”
He opened his mouth, and then nodded. “You have a deal.”
Talk during dinner felt a lot looser to her. When the check came, she flattened her hand over the black vinyl folder.
“No way, buddy. You might not let me thank you again but there’s no way I’m letting you pay for dinner tonight.”
He leaned his elbows on the table. “That’s fair. As long as you let me return the favor at a future date.”
“A date?” She shook her head. “Oh, I’m not sure about that.”
“All right, then. At a future time to be set and approved by both parties.”
She laughed. “Wow, you sound just like a lawyer.”
He spread his hands. “This is surprising to you?”
Shaking her head, she tucked her card into the folder. “Not really. I was surprised when…never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“What isn’t any of your business?”
She took a breath. “You said earlier that it wouldn’t be just you in the house.”
“I did.” She arched a brow at him and he seemed to catch on. “Ah, I don’t have a girlfriend. If that’s what you were thinking.”
“I was, actually.”
He leaned closer, his lips curved slightly. “If I had a girlfriend I never would have kissed you like that.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “And if I had a girlfriend there’s no way I’d be thinking about kissing you right now.”
That little confession made her body flush hot. “Derek,” she whispered.
He just looked at her with those dark eyes. When the server brought the check back a minute later her hand was trembling as she signed it. She had to rein in this craziness. He might not have a girlfriend, true. But he was so not right for her.
If that were true, then why was she thinking about that kiss and the one that might come next?