Wish I May (30 page)

Present Day

“Just imagine we’re on one of those renovation shows Mom used to like watching so much.”

“Does that mean the sexy hosts are going to show up?” Drew asks, stumbling forward on the riverside trail. She still hasn’t completely opened her eyes, but I woke up early after a night of anxiety and little sleep, and I didn’t have the patience to let her sleep in this morning. “I’m going to need some decent scenery if I’m going to be working this early on a Saturday.”

“No sexy hosts, but the exterminator also promised no rats, so it’s a trade-off.”

It’s a gorgeous morning, and I’m determined not to let last night’s falling out with William ruin my day. It had to happen eventually. Better sooner than later.

As I tossed and turned last night, I realized how much I need to do before I leave New Hope. First, I need to prepare the girls for life without me. I’ve been taking everything on myself for too long. They’re old enough to scrub walls and push a vacuum, and it’s time I made them pull their weight. After all, the cabin is going to be their house, and I won’t be here to take care of it. I probably won’t even be able to risk coming back to check in.

I can’t think about that too much.

“I better get to pick the paint color for our bedroom,” Drew grumbles.

“I want to knock down a wall,” Gabby says.

“No knocking down walls. I’m afraid the house would fall down.”

We turn off the trail and into the woods toward Dad’s.

“Who’s here?” Drew asks.

I follow the direction of her gaze and my steps stutter. Dad’s driveway is filled with cars, and from here I can see William and two guys I only vaguely recognize. As we get closer, I see Hanna and Lizzy leaning against Lizzy’s Charger, and behind them—

Drew squeezes my arm and stops cold. “Oh. My. God.”

I see him the same moment she does. Asher Logan is climbing into the back of a big black pickup, handing supplies to the guys.

Drew looks like she might vomit.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing at her. “What were you saying about needing decent scenery?”

“He’s beautiful,” Gabby whispers.

I roll my eyes. “Seriously? You too?” But then I realize she’s not looking at Asher. She’s looking at one of Will’s friends, the tall, dark-haired guy with broad shoulders and wicked smile. The one Hanna likes. Max. “Come on, girls,” I say, heading into the fray. “First rule is to never let them see you drool.”

“Surprise!” Lizzy calls when she sees us approaching.

I prop my hands on my hips. “Are we having a party here that no one told me about?”

“A renovation party!” Lizzy says, hopping up and down so her curls bounce.

Drew grimaces next to me. “No one should be that perky before nine a.m.”

My eyes connect with William’s. I know without asking that he’s responsible for this. He just winks at me as if last night in the kitchen never happened.
Too. Damn. Good.

“You didn’t have to come.”

The guys shrug, and Max says, “We owe Will. Anyway, we’re happy to help.”

“Okay, everyone,” Will announces. “The Dumpster will be here any minute. Let’s start with the carpet and the linoleum in the kitchen. Once we get all that out, we’ll tackle the walls and be ready for the new flooring by this afternoon.”

“New flooring?” I whisper. Everyone’s already headed toward the house and I’m standing here, blinking at Will like an idiot.

“New flooring,” he says carefully, his eyes on me. “A couple of appliances.”

I don’t even have words. I know I should feel…something. Anything other than this crazy out-of-body confusion, like I’ve been dropped into someone else’s life. “But…how?”

“Hey, Bailey!” Max calls from the front porch. “Where do you want the furniture?”

“Coming!” He winks at me and then disappears into the house.

A couple of hours later, the old carpet and linoleum are gone, Sam and Asher are patching the bad spots on the roof, and Max and William have started working on the rotted planks on the deck, pulling off the bad ones and replacing them with new. The sun is high in the sky and cutting through the trees, turning the autumn day hot. William peels off his shirt and tosses it aside, giving me a hell of a view as I try to tape the windows for painting.

Next to me, Drew clears her throat and nudges me in the side with her elbow. “The first rule is to never let them see you drool.”

By lunch, I don’t know whether to tell William off or kiss his feet. First, the truck arrived with the flooring, then another truck brought a new stove and refrigerator, and a third brought new living room furniture and loft beds for the girls and desks that go under each.

It’s too much, and if it were all for me, I wouldn’t accept it. If it were all for me, I’d be angry. But Gabby and Drew are practically bouncing with excitement, and instead of being angry I’m just…grateful. I’m grateful William could do this for them. I’m grateful that, for once, it’s not all on my shoulders. But even so, there’s something unsettling about the grand gesture. Something that doesn’t sit right.

“How much do you hate me right now?” William asks behind me.

I turn slowly. He’s a sweaty mess from tearing up the carpet, and he looks a little unsure as he studies me, but I’ve never been so attracted to someone in my life.

I grab his hand and pull him around the side of the house, where we can talk without curious eyes watching us. “Thank you for arranging this.”

He shifts his hand under mine and entwines our fingers. “You’re welcome.”

I force myself to ask the question that’s been needling me more and more with every gift he’s given. “You know this doesn’t change things between us, right?”

The smile falls from his face. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t buy me, William. I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, but I’m not for sale.”

“I didn’t think you were.” His hard jaw starts to tick. He runs a hand through his curls and looks up at the trees as it trying for patience, but his eyes burn with anger when they turn back to me. “Is that why you think I did this? Is that why you think I’m giving you a deal for your studio, why you think I let you and your sisters stay with me? You think I’m trying to
buy
you? What the fuck kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“No! Of course I—” But I can’t deny it when that’s exactly what I just accused him of. That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

“Last night you accused me of treating you like possession, but I have
never
thought of you that way. A possession is something you own, something you control.” He tugs me close until my body is pressed against his and his mouth is brushing my ear. “I don’t want to control you. I want you to be mine
.
Don’t you see the difference?”

My heart pounds in my chest, stumbling painfully as if it’s trying to race away from this conversation. “There is no difference for a lot of guys.”
There was no difference for Brandon.

“I want your heart. I have no interest in buying it or controlling it. I want you to give it to me freely. Because you already own mine. You always have. You always will.”

“And my body?” I can’t help myself. I have to ask. “For some men, being
his
means wearing the clothes he picks out, expressing the opinions he wants me to hold, and letting him fuck me the way he wants to fuck me.”

One hand drops to my waist, lower, and he draws my body close to his, fingers squeezing my hip. “I don’t want to dress you. If you’re in a sexy skirt or in those scrubs your wear for work, all I want is to
un
dress you. And I don’t want to own your mind, I want to explore it.” His mouth brushes my ear as he speaks. Arousal shoots like an electric pulse down my spine. “But I
do
want you to let me fuck you the way I want to fuck you. But only because I’m yours as much as you are mine, and every time I touch you, I feel like I’ve been put on this Earth to make you come.”

His mouth opens over mine. I’m clinging to him, my nails biting into his shoulders, my legs unsteady beneath me. He backs me up until has me against the side of the house, and I suddenly wish everyone else was gone, so I could take him up on the promise in his eyes.

“You’re mine, Cally,” he whispers. “I don’t give two fucks if that sounds too caveman or possessive for you, because when it comes to you, I am.”

T
ODAY HAS
been shit. Because I want Cally so much it hurts. Because despite our little conversation outside her dad’s house yesterday, she avoided me after the girls were in bed last night. Because even angry with her, I’m happier than I’ve been in years.

But mostly my day has been shit because I know Cally and her sisters are moving back home tonight, and even though I’m going to see her at the gallery most days, letting Cally go in any form goes against every instinct I have.

When I get home from work and walk in my door, my nose is assaulted by garlic and basil. I don’t make it more than a few steps before Drew appears in a white dress shirt and black pants, a linen napkin draped over her arm. “Your table is this way, sir,” she says, motioning toward the dining room.

“What’s going on, Drew?” I walk into the dining room, and Gabby, dressed just like her sister, pulls out a chair for me to sit.

The table is set for two with taper candles burning in the center and flickering shadows on the walls. Bowls of spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread wait, and a wine bottle sits on ice in a stainless steel bucket. I pick it up to see they’ve chosen strawberry wine.