hell?
Summer tilted her head again and took a deep breath. “I have a question for you. It may not be a savvy question, but it's an honest question, and honest is what you get with me. Which would be more likely to land me this gig: reviewing my extensive interior finish experience,” she said, pointing toward her resume, “or telling you the story of why I really need this job?”
“Telling me the story,” Brandon admitted, and the way-more-than-half of him that was completely smitten cheered YES GIVE ME AN EXCUSE TO HIRE YOU YES .
“I left home when I was eighteen,” Summer told him, “and I've been traveling ever since. I said yes to every adventure that came my way. I was so sure that I was on the path toward something – some kind of meaning? Or destiny? I don't even know. It sounds so ridiculous now. Because here I am, thirty years old, and I'm flat broke and fresh out of rehab. I can't go to my old friends for help because that's just not safe for me right now. A place to live and a job to do would mean the world to me.”
By the end of her story, her eyes were locked on his. She didn't turn away, and suddenly Brandon was sure she felt the connection too. He took her hand again. “The job is yours.” He found himself running his thumb over the back of her hand, but at least he stopped himself from kissing it – for now.
“I really can do the work.”
“I know you can.”
“Okay then. It's a deal.”
Chapter 2
Summer shoved the faded armchair into place then reached upwards, stretching out her back. Trickles of sweat running down her neck made her shiver. With the workday over, it was time to get out of her jeans. She grabbed a tank top and a light cotton skirt from her backpack and stepped behind the heavy folding screen to change. The small studio had contained only a cot, a mini fridge and a hot plate when she arrived, but Brandon had said she could move in any furniture she wanted from the main house. She picked out the screen, the armchair, an ottoman, and a threadbare Persian carpet that had once been beautiful.
Brandon had headed back into town right after dropping her off. She spent the afternoon drawing up a supply list and a schedule, and then she attacked the wallpaper. He was right, it was pure evil.
Summer grabbed an ice tea from the fridge and went to sit on the front steps, bathed by the setting sun. It was hard to say which was more breath-taking: the wild mountain view before her, or the spectacularly bad decisions she'd made so far today. She sighed. So much for changing her ways! Sure, random hot guy, I'll come live with you in your isolated cabin, half an hour walk from the nearest town, with no car of my own! What could possibly go wrong with that?
But she had felt that pull, that same crazy pull that had moved her so many times. It wasn't about him being gorgeous (although god knows he was), it was just a feeling of rightness. A feeling that the next step of her journey was here. She didn't want to trust that feeling any longer – but apparently her heart hadn't gotten the message.
She pulled the elastic from her hair and untwined her braid, running her fingers through her hair and enjoying the little curls of breeze that touched her scalp. When she looked up, Brandon's car was approaching the house. He parked and walked toward her, carrying a grocery bag.
Brandon stood uncertainly at the foot of the steps. She waved him to sit down beside her, and he started unpacking his bag. “I've got bread, and cheese, and a couple different salads –”
“You don't have to feed me every day,” she said. “I've got enough money left for some basic groceries.”
“Oh, it's no trouble! It gets kind of depressing, eating alone.”
“Okay, then. Help yourself to some tea.”
He came back with his drink and they started enjoying their picnic in silence. Summer glanced sidelong at him whenever she
Summer tilted her head again and took a deep breath. “I have a question for you. It may not be a savvy question, but it's an honest question, and honest is what you get with me. Which would be more likely to land me this gig: reviewing my extensive interior finish experience,” she said, pointing toward her resume, “or telling you the story of why I really need this job?”
“Telling me the story,” Brandon admitted, and the way-more-than-half of him that was completely smitten cheered YES GIVE ME AN EXCUSE TO HIRE YOU YES .
“I left home when I was eighteen,” Summer told him, “and I've been traveling ever since. I said yes to every adventure that came my way. I was so sure that I was on the path toward something – some kind of meaning? Or destiny? I don't even know. It sounds so ridiculous now. Because here I am, thirty years old, and I'm flat broke and fresh out of rehab. I can't go to my old friends for help because that's just not safe for me right now. A place to live and a job to do would mean the world to me.”
By the end of her story, her eyes were locked on his. She didn't turn away, and suddenly Brandon was sure she felt the connection too. He took her hand again. “The job is yours.” He found himself running his thumb over the back of her hand, but at least he stopped himself from kissing it – for now.
“I really can do the work.”
“I know you can.”
“Okay then. It's a deal.”
Chapter 2
Summer shoved the faded armchair into place then reached upwards, stretching out her back. Trickles of sweat running down her neck made her shiver. With the workday over, it was time to get out of her jeans. She grabbed a tank top and a light cotton skirt from her backpack and stepped behind the heavy folding screen to change. The small studio had contained only a cot, a mini fridge and a hot plate when she arrived, but Brandon had said she could move in any furniture she wanted from the main house. She picked out the screen, the armchair, an ottoman, and a threadbare Persian carpet that had once been beautiful.
Brandon had headed back into town right after dropping her off. She spent the afternoon drawing up a supply list and a schedule, and then she attacked the wallpaper. He was right, it was pure evil.
Summer grabbed an ice tea from the fridge and went to sit on the front steps, bathed by the setting sun. It was hard to say which was more breath-taking: the wild mountain view before her, or the spectacularly bad decisions she'd made so far today. She sighed. So much for changing her ways! Sure, random hot guy, I'll come live with you in your isolated cabin, half an hour walk from the nearest town, with no car of my own! What could possibly go wrong with that?
But she had felt that pull, that same crazy pull that had moved her so many times. It wasn't about him being gorgeous (although god knows he was), it was just a feeling of rightness. A feeling that the next step of her journey was here. She didn't want to trust that feeling any longer – but apparently her heart hadn't gotten the message.
She pulled the elastic from her hair and untwined her braid, running her fingers through her hair and enjoying the little curls of breeze that touched her scalp. When she looked up, Brandon's car was approaching the house. He parked and walked toward her, carrying a grocery bag.
Brandon stood uncertainly at the foot of the steps. She waved him to sit down beside her, and he started unpacking his bag. “I've got bread, and cheese, and a couple different salads –”
“You don't have to feed me every day,” she said. “I've got enough money left for some basic groceries.”
“Oh, it's no trouble! It gets kind of depressing, eating alone.”
“Okay, then. Help yourself to some tea.”
He came back with his drink and they started enjoying their picnic in silence. Summer glanced sidelong at him whenever she
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