January 20
Brady hated being idle so by the time he’d made sure the house was sturdy and not going to fall down around his ears, he’d started in on the renovations he’d planned out in his head.
It probably would have been better to get a builder’s input but he’d worked on enough barns, sheds, and the occasional house over the years to know to check for structural support before tearing down a wall.
He’d been in the roof cavity and besides the boxes of junk and dust, he’d determined the wall between the two back bedrooms did nothing but divide the space. In his head he saw this whole rear area as a master suite.
Taking out the separating wall between the rooms would allow for a king bed and walk-in closet. He’d leave the bathroom as is for now but later he’d turn that space plus a section of the current master bedroom into an en suite and separate half-bath for guests.
That was a long way off though. He just couldn’t stand doing nothing, and seeing how he had the skills, it made sense to get a start on what he wanted. It wasn’t like he’d be putting anyone except himself out with the noise and mess.
He’d definitely have to engage a builder at some point in the future. He might be able to swing a hammer and throw up dry wall, but he wasn’t dumb enough to tackle a second story addition without professional help, and he wanted to re-use the new roof if possible, which would definitely require an expert’s opinion and know-how.
The rumble of an engine growing louder had Brady downing tools and gloves, brushing off the dust, and moving toward the front of the house. He wasn’t expecting anyone although he wouldn’t be averse to having a visitor. He’d always been content with his own company, but the last few days had worn on his nerves.
Then again, it could be the lingering sense of danger that seemed to permeate the house—hover in the air—that had him moving quietly around the place like he had as a kid, not staying still long enough to get in trouble.
Just this morning he’d dropped a mug in the kitchen, spilling hot coffee everywhere, and he’d flinched waiting for the slap to the back of his head his father would have delivered when Brady was younger.
Yeah, he might not be expecting anyone, but he could do with a little social interaction right now.
Stepping out on the porch, he squinted his eyes against the glare of sunlight off snow. The small windows in the back rooms didn’t allow much light in. He’d have to think about replacing them with bigger ones or putting in one big one, instead of two, maybe some French doors that opened onto a small deck where he could add a hot tub.
Hmm…he really liked that idea. He’d have to pace it out later to be sure it wouldn’t encroach on the yard too much.
He raised a hand to shield his eyes and focused on the direction the engine roar came from. It wasn’t the driveway, whatever machine headed toward him—definitely a vehicle of some kind—came from the forest beyond the old crumbling half garage attached to the left of the house.
Brady frowned.
That had to come down. He’d build a full garage before next winter.
As he was contemplating the size of add-on needed, a large dark blur whipped around the outer edge of the lopsided building, spraying snow as it turned, and he blinked.
Was that a snowmobile towing a…
Rubbing a fist over each eye, he concentrated on the sight in front of him.
Yep. A snowmobile pulling a sled. He couldn’t tell by looking who was driving but his coyote instincts certainly knew.
Ren.
Brady didn’t know what to think. It had been five days since the scene in her cafe.
Five days of wondering if she’d ever come around. Wondering what he could do to help change her mind about him.
Seeing Gordie—now known as Doc—at the clinic when he’d followed Doc Monroe that first day had given him hope that he could regain Ren’s favor. Neither Monroe had said a word against him. Or his brother, for that matter, and if anyone had the right to hold animosity, it was Gordana Monroe.
The only time any of his family were mentioned was when they’d asked him what he wanted to do with the bodies of his brother and father. He hadn’t known they had kept his father on ice since last year. Gordie had explained their reluctance to bury him but also confessed to wanting to use his body for research.
Brady had no opinion on that. He actually didn’t care what they did with his father. They’d never been close. The role of favorite son had gone to Marcus, and look what that had gotten him. Brady was more than happy to have been the forgotten one.
He watched Ren maneuver the snowmobile to position the sled close to the house. He’d offer to help, but at this point he couldn’t be sure she wasn’t here to kill him and load his body on that sled to be carted off into the mountains and buried, never to be found.
Grinning at the thought, Brady watched his mate carefully. Hoping for any clue that would indicate her mood or reason for being here.
When the engine switched off, Ren removed her goggles and gloves, and remained sitting on the big machine while she gave him a once over.
“So you are alive then,” she called out with a smirk.
“Was there doubt?” He walked down the steps to join her in the yard. A yard he’d spent two days clearing of as much snow as he could.
“Some.” She glanced at the house behind him. “No one seemed to know what condition this place was in or whether you came with supplies, and you haven’t been to town since you arrived.”
He couldn’t hold back a grin. “Checking up on me?”
“Hell no! Damn old codgers won’t shut up about you. I can’t serve a drink or meal without one of them telling me something about the prodigal son.”
Brady frowned. “Prodigal doesn’t seem the right word…”
“No, but those old coots think it is. I’m not going to point out their mistake. Besides, it would just keep them talking about you.”
“Oh, and you can’t have that.” To avoid digging deeper into their—her—animosity, he tipped his chin toward the sled and asked, “What’s all that?”
Ren hopped off the snowmobile and headed for her cargo. “I brought you a few things.”
He was so shocked by her words that she had the straps off and the cover thrown back to reveal bags and boxes of supplies before he could get his brain to work and engage his mouth. At a complete loss for words, Brady stood there open-mouthed while Ren picked up a box and turned.
“Y-you brought me food?” he finally stammered, disbelief clear in his voice and no doubt on his face.
She shrugged, the box lifting in her arms. “Just a few things.”
Grinning he stepped closer. “You were worried about me.”
“No. There’s a storm rolling in late tonight, early tomorrow. We’re expecting a few days of solid snowfall, about two feet worth, and I don’t want my sister to have to come out here to recover your body when you freeze or starve to death.”
He moved closer, pressed his torso right up against her forearms, trapping them between his chest and the box. “You were worried about me,” he whispered, the hope bursting to life inside him dripping from each word.
“No.” She tilted her chin up a notch. “I’d be worried about anyone stuck out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Really? So you’ve been dropping off supplies all over the mountain this morning?” Brady knew she hadn’t. The flush in her cheeks wasn’t only due to the cold. They’d gotten rosier the more he talked, the closer he’d gotten.
“No. Jeez. Here.” She shoved into him making him take a step back and grab the box. “Just take that inside already.”
A smile on his face, Brady did as directed. He wouldn’t tell her he’d planned to make a trip into town this afternoon. He’d arrived with enough food and water to get him through two weeks but that had been more a precaution than necessity, and the trip to town was more about seeing Ren than picking up supplies.
He thought the house would be without running water or electricity when he arrived so he’d come prepared. It had been a pleasant surprise to find both still functioning once he’d fired up the generator that wasn’t as old as he’d assumed it would be.
The supply of fuel he found in the garage would last at least a month and the fairly new furnace in the basement proved more than adequate to heat the three bedroom house once he’d fiddled with the thermostat.
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” Ren observed behind him.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw she had a second overloaded box in her arms. He ignored her comment and asked, “How much stuff did you bring me?”
Her cheeks blushed a deeper pink and she looked away before saying, “Just some staples.”
Brady looked in the box he put on the kitchen table, then the one she placed beside it. “And by staples you mean the whole grocery store?” he asked with a raised brow.
It didn’t look as though she’d forgotten anything; there was even a two-pack of toilet paper. Without a word, she spun on her heel and headed back out front.
Sighing, he followed. “Ren.”
“It’s Kat,” she argued. “No one calls me Ren anymore.”
The tone of her voice told him the subject of why was off limits. He’d get to the bottom of that though. After talking with Doc Monroe and Gordie—he couldn’t get used to thinking of Gordie as Doc yet—the other day, he had a horrible suspicion that the name change was about him.
He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for her when he’d disappeared. They’d been inseparable and he’d left without a word. Obviously he’d hurt her. If she’d felt anywhere near the level of pain he had over losing her, he could understand why she’d be so angry at him.
Why she’d not want anything to do with anyone named Connelly. In one way or another they’d all hurt her deeply.
Brady had a lot of making up to do. And he’d need to explain why he’d left, why he hadn’t contacted her. He just hoped she could forgive him. For now he’d do everything he could to show her he was nothing like his brother or father and that he and his mother had been as much victims of their violence as the Whispering Mountain pack.
“Okay, Kathren, let me get that,” he said, moving around her to pick up the box she reached for.
“Sure.” She stepped back, her arms folded over her chest, eyes narrowed.
He scanned the sled as he grabbed the box and stopped. “Is all this for me?” Jesus. She really hadn’t left anything out if this was all meant for him.
“Yes.”
Brady could tell she didn’t want to admit that, but what else could she do? She was here, with all these supplies; there was no denying she’d gotten them for him. Struck by a sudden thought, he asked, “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
“Ren—” He froze at the look on her face.
“Nothing,” she said with a stubborn tip of her chin.
“I can’t let you—”
“You owe me nothing.”
There was something playing in her eyes, something he thought he should know, except she pushed past him to grab more supplies before he could figure it out.
Leaving it for now, he headed into the house to unload. By the time they’d brought everything inside, he’d worked out his next step.
“Let me fix us some lunch. It’s the least I can do after all this.”
“Can you cook?” Ren inquired, one dark eyebrow arching.
He grinned. “I can open a tin of soup. Slap some cheese on bread.”
“Ha.” She unzipped her jacket, slipped it off her shoulders, and dropped it over the back of a chair before rummaging through a bag. “Good thing I brought a few ready meals then. I don’t have time to whip something up.”
Ready meals? Brady’s smile spread as he set about emptying the bags and boxes and putting the food away while Ren organized lunch.
She might be saying one thing but she definitely meant another. The woman had brought pre-made food. She’d been more than worried about him. She’d thought about him for a while if all the containers of food ready to go in the freezer were an indication.
Maybe, like him, she hadn’t been able to think about anything other than their connection since they’d laid eyes on each other five days ago.
He wasn’t stupid though. He’d keep his mouth shut for now. One step at a time.
She was here. At his house. And she wasn’t yelling at him or throwing him out. Progress.
The one thing that really gave him hope was all the supplies she’d brought with her.
She was taking care of him. She might not want to call it that, but he saw it for what it was.
Ren looked after those she cared about.
Brady wasn’t sure what had happened or changed since he’d seen her last but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d take it as a good sign and not question it further.
As far as he was concerned they were heading in the right direction and he hadn’t had to do a thing.
With effort, he’d have her loving him again in no time.