The You I Want for Life Page 4

  Jace rolled his eyes and inwardly groaned. Everyone’s a critic.

  Chloe walked toward him then, her hands twisted together at her waist. The bones in her wrists were no bigger than pebbles, her fingers and arms supple like spring saplings. Yet her fingernails were chewed to the quick. And the dramatic circles under her eyes would never come off with soap and water.

  She was nothing like he remembered his sister looking at that age. She’d been All-American, scrubbed clean, wrapped in ribbons and lace. This girl was haunted, a being from another place, another time. Her eyes met his, those two huge orbs of henna brown peering at him and seeing too much. Knowing more about him than he did...

  Eden broke the moment, entering the room with a small crate in her hands. Jace stepped forward and took it from her. Her gaze was searching as it fed between him and Chloe. He gave Eden a quick nod, indicating what, he didn’t know because he didn’t know what she was asking.

  Seeming relieved, she turned a huge smile on Chloe. “Did you tell your father you were bringing him something to eat?”

  “He’s waiting at the kitchen table. I even tucked a napkin into his shirt.”

  “Good.” Eden laced her fingers together. “Things will work out, Chloe. Just hang in there.”

  Chloe took the crate from Jace. Their hands brushed briefly. She gave him a serene, all-knowing nod.

  He hurried to the front of the room. “Let me get the door for you.”

  “In a moment.” Chloe set the crate on the floor, pulled Eden close and settled a kiss on her cheek.

  “Thank you,” Chloe said, then lifted her burden and carried it to the door.

  When she reached Jace, she stopped and pointedly made eye contact. “Eden likes you. So I like you, too.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “You’re welcome, I know,” she replied and stepped into the night.

  Jace closed the door behind her and turned to Eden. “What was that?”

  “That... was a teenager.”

  He shuddered. “Strange creature.”

  Eden crossed her arms over her chest. “They have their moments. Not unlike... frogs.”

  Jace looked at her then. Truly looked at her. At her mahogany hair and freckles, at her skin like cream that smelled of apricots, at her smile and sense of humor—the latter which he couldn’t see but still... saw.

  Suddenly, he needed breathing room in a big way. “Do you want to ride out to my shop?”

  “Tonight?” She looked as surprised as he felt.

  “Yeah. I’ve got a rack you might want to use in that corner. If you give me the okay, I can bring it out first thing in the morning.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Then let’s go,” he said, knowing he needed to get this job done and get out of her life before the attraction grew into something he’d want to take further.

  And with his track record for letting people down, it would be best if he didn’t take it anywhere at all.

  Chapter Five

  HE LIVED IN A BARN. A real barn. A worn, weathered building that had once been home to animals, not some avant-garde designer’s idea of fashionable back-to-basics, complete with modern amenities.

  With nothing but a sliver of moon and a sprinkling of stars for light, Eden peered through the truck’s windshield and decided Jace had no amenities.

  He parked his truck under an aluminum awning. Sawhorses piled high with sheets of wood edged one side. Cases of wood finish and linseed oil lined the other. Eden could barely open her door. If she’d been any more pregnant, she wouldn’t have been able to squeeze out of the cab.

  “You need some help?”

  “No, I’ve got it,” she said. “It’s just logistics. The round peg in the square hole scenario.”

  Jace made no comment but waited for her at the corner of the open structure. “I never think about the clutter out here. I’m the only one who ever sees it.”

  She dusted a cobweb from her sleeve. “Don’t apologize.”

  “I didn’t,” Jace replied matter-of-factly. He led the way down a short dirt track to the barn and once there, lifted the four-by-eight beam slanted across the two doors.

  “You leave your place unlocked?”

  He pitched her a quizzical glance. “Don’t you?”

  That was one of the things that had taken getting used to. But she did. And she nodded. “Being out this far, though, I thought you’d be worried about vandals.”

  “Anyone who finds me is welcome to share what I have. Besides”—he shoved open one door and gave her that devil’s grin—”I have a security system.”

  Two sharp whistles pierced the air. Seconds later, Eden found herself confronted with a thick ruff of silver fur and fangs. Jace stepped aside to let her go first. With her best are-you-out-of-your-mind scowl, she shook her head. The dog looked more like a wolf. Especially when he snarled.

  “Chelsea, this is Eden. Eden, my Alaskan security system.”

  Eden tucked her hands in the pockets of her tunic and cocked one eyebrow. Jace was really working hard to fight back a grin.

  “You two have something in common,” Jace said.

  Eden watched Chelsea trot out into the night. “What’s that? Neither one of us has a waistline?”

  “C’mon. I’ll show you.” He gestured for her to follow.

  Jace closed the door, hit a switch and illuminated one long half of the temperature-controlled interior of the barn. Lathes, saws, drills, drafting boards, and worktables made her forget she was anywhere but in the most modern of woodshops.

  She made her way to where he waited expectantly at the opposite end of the building. She passed a spindle-back rocking chair and set it in motion, lingered in front of a pine armoire that was literally a work of art. Her steps slowed, but her mind raced. “You don’t have a shop in Arbor Glen, do you?”

  He shook his head. “I do the larger pieces on commission. I get most of my referrals from a display I have at a shop in Farmersville.”

  Her eyes widened. “The Old Pine Box?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re the mysterious J. B. Morgan?”

  “Only when I’m forced to admit it,” he said and grinned.

  “Why wouldn’t you want to?” At a loss for words, she gestured with her hands. “The name seemed so familiar, but I never connected it with you. I’ve seen the display, by the way. And now... this.” She glanced from one piece to another. “Jace, your work is beautiful.”

  “It’ll do.”

  “It’ll more than do. It’s absolutely exquisite. Oh, and the Browns! They must be in heaven, having you renovate The Glen.”

  “They’re happy enough.”

  She caught a brief glimpse of pleasure in his eyes before his lashes came down. This was strange. He seemed too devilishly cocky to be the type to shrug off an acknowledgment of his talent. “You do this all here in your barn?”

  “Yeah. Or I did. It kept me busy before I won the bed-and-breakfast contract.”

  “And now you don’t have time for anything else, I’m sure.”

  “I squeeze in a few side jobs, here and there. Shelves and the like.”

  She smiled in his direction. “So, where do you live?”

  He jerked his head. “Up there.”

  “The hayloft. Of course.” Wasn’t that where every reclusive artist hid out? But why was a man with his talent hiding behind a set of initials, in a barn, in an open pasture?

  Secrets. More secrets. Warning bells went off like New Year’s Eve fireworks.

  Taking a deep breath, she glanced down and finally saw what he’d been trying to show her. Puppies. Six little balls of nothing but fluff lay in a slatted crate. Shredded newspaper and a gray-on-black flannel shirt provided a warm bed.

  Chelsea reappeared, turned in three circles, and settled against the back of the crate. The puppies rooted around their mother. Eden leaned forward and tentatively touched their soft fur.

  “Oh, how precious.” Her traitorous eyes
misted. A crazy mood swing, of course. Nothing but hormones run rampant. Certainly not the worry that she had less maternal instincts than this dog.

  She stood then, lifted her chin because it was the thing to do. Silently, Jace met her gaze, but she didn’t want to explain the unexplainable, so she asked, “Do you want to show me the rack you had in mind?”

  “Sure,” he answered, his voice gruff as if her female display of emotion had no place in his male dominion. He took a huge step back. “Be back in a second.”

  “Don’t rush,” Eden said. “I’m dying to try out the rocker.”

  “Be my guest.” Jace wound his way around tool cabinets and shop caddies and scraps of lumber to the far corner of the barn. The same corner where a circular staircase led to the loft.

  The thought of climbing those stairs quelled Eden’s curiosity at seeing where he lived. Her aching feet were ready to call it a day, and the rocker couldn’t have been more inviting.

  The chair fit like Jace had molded the wood to her body. The seat reached the perfect height. The curve of the headrest sloped to perfection. She settled back and propped her feet on a small stool.

  A T-shirt Jace must’ve tossed across the chair back earlier in the day fell on her shoulder. She brought the rocker to a stop and closed her eyes. The smell of rich sawdust came from the earth, as did the scent of clean male sweat clinging to the cotton.

  She turned her head to the side and buried her nose in the folds of the cloth, feeling like an intruder, like an invader of Jace’s privacy. But the simple comfort she derived from the act was a warmth she’d missed and hadn’t realized to what extent.

  This was the first time since Nate... since she shook off all remnants of that relationship and became her own person, that the need for companionship, friendship felt as vital as the need for physical sustenance.

  The reaction shook her, and she laid the shirt aside. A big part of her move to Arbor Glen was a stand for independence. Not that she planned to live the rest of her life alone, but the timing was all wrong for what she was feeling, this emotional desire for a man. For Jace.

  Hearing him approach, she opened her eyes. She couldn’t have come up with anything more perfect if she’d commissioned the design. From a base resembling gnarled roots, the rack’s straight shaft stood head high before branching out into four rods carved into vines.

  It didn’t look sturdy enough to support the wind, but she had no doubt it would work just fine, considering Jace stood leaning his full weight on it. Frowning, he rubbed one finger over a tiny scar on the wood, and Eden wondered if he had any idea that his soul shone in his eyes.

  This was the real Jace Morgan. A craftsman, able to return a visage of life to dead wood. And she had no doubt he could do the same to a woman. Swallowing that thought, Eden got to her feet. “Where did this come from?”

  “I had a friend once. His wife had a thing for big floppy hats.” He hesitated. What looked like regret clouded his eyes. “Terri and Kev moved away before I got around to finishing this.”

  “Are you sure you want to get rid of it?”

  “Yeah. This wasn’t what I was going to show you, but if you want it, it’s yours. I didn’t realize until I got back there that Chelsea’s been using the base of the other rack to sharpen her teeth.” At the mention of her name, Chelsea thumped her tail against the back of the crate.

  “This is really perfect. How much do you want for it, and can we take it back tonight?”

  He quoted her a price that staggered her for a second. Genius didn’t usually come so cheap.

  “I don’t want to load it in the truck in the dark,” Jace said. “I’ll dig up a furniture pad and bring it over tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good. Between this and the shelving system, I should be set. Is that asking for a miracle?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll finish measuring for the shelves when I take you back tonight. I should be able to get everything done by the weekend after next.”

  “Great. This is so great,” Eden exclaimed. “I’m going to have to thank Molly for sending you over.” She walked a circle around the rack, marveling at the detailed scrollwork, then looked up and came to a complete stop.

  Wedged in the corner of a worktable against the wall sat a tiny cradle. Her pulse racing, Eden crossed the floor to caress the curved rockers, the turreted headboard, the spindles carved into carousel animals.

  “Jace,” she whispered, the word hard to speak. She pressed her fingers to her lips and her other palm to the sudden ache at her breast. She turned her back to Jace, wanting nothing to ruin this moment for her. The piece could’ve been a merry-go-round, a child’s first ride into imagination.

  Jace had captured everything Eden felt about childhood in this one piece of miniature furniture, conveyed the whimsy, the fun, the laughter and the love with such exquisite perfection—all the things she’d vowed to provide for her children. All the things she’d had to turn her life upside down to make happen.

  So why was she still so unsure that she’d done the right thing?

  BALANCING A CHECKBOOK was not the greatest way to start a day. Eden laid her glasses aside and with the heels of her palms, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, no doubt making the circles beneath her lower lashes darker than they already were.

  Though her hours now were strictly her own, her schedule was only marginally less demanding than the one she’d kept up in New York. The added anxiety of impending parenthood didn’t help. She joked a lot about her physical condition, knowing she wasn’t yet half as huge as she made out in her complaints.

  The self-deprecating humor was a defense mechanism. She knew that, knew also that her self-confidence had taken a beating after being duped for three years by a married man. On top of her breakup with Nate, there was this huge lifestyle change she’d made to accommodate her status as a single mother of twins.

  A girl could only take so much stress. She figured she was entitled to joke and to whine. Once or twice a day at least.

  A sharp rap at the back door had her glancing around. A wisp of Chloe’s blond hair shimmered in the seven a.m. sun. Eden glanced down at her cotton nightgown and shrugged. Looked like whine time was over. She padded to the back door, feeling like the brunt of a barefoot-and-pregnant joke.

  “How was dinner?” she asked, holding open the door.

  Chloe set the crate of dishes and a large straw carryall on the table. “Wonderful. Daddy ate every bit and wanted more.”

  Eden gave her a quick hug. “I’m so glad. Things with your dad will take time, Chloe.”

  “I know. We talked about it last night. About how much we both miss... her.” She glanced away, her eyes glistening.

  Eden wanted to soothe and turned to the old standby that seemed to work wonders. “Did you eat breakfast this morning?”

  Chloe sniffed, and a childish smile crept across her mouth. “No. I was in such a hurry to get here, I forgot.”

  “What time do you have to be at school?”

  She glanced at her black-banded wristwatch. “Not for an hour.”

  “Then sit down. I’ll get the muffins out of the oven and we can talk.”

  “About the art project you need done?”

  “That and why you were in such a hurry to get here that you’d forget breakfast.” Eden gathered up her paperwork and set it atop the pie safe for the time being. She made her way around the kitchen, pouring Chloe a glass of orange juice to start with.

  Chloe pulled her sketchbook from her carryall. Eden sliced peaches and bananas, poached two eggs and listened to her guest’s pencil scratch across the pad. She set the teakettle on the stove, then turned to study the teen, watching the fierce concentration with which Chloe worked.

  Today she wore faded jeans and sandals, an oxford cloth shirt with sleeves cuffed to her elbows and a man’s paisley print vest. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. A whisper of bangs brushed her brows.

  Beneath a frown of pure concentration, a light coat of mascara enhan
ced her eyes. With her lower lip caught between her teeth, her left-handed scrawl furiously attacked the page in front of her.

  She looked like she was sixteen. She looked like an average teenage girl. She looked healthy and happy and exactly the way Eden wanted her daughter to look at that age. Smiling, Eden glanced up to catch Chloe’s intense gaze on her face. Hmm.

  Gathering the makings of breakfast, Eden set the table, ignoring the little voice telling her that Chloe was not a normal teen at all. She was a very wise old woman caught in a very young body, which was exactly what she wanted the town to think.

  “Here we go,” Eden said, pouring two tall glasses of milk. “The basic four food groups: protein, dairy, grains, and fruit.”

  “You sound just like a mother,” Chloe grumbled.

  “Good. I’m supposed to. I figured I’d practice on someone I know, so you can tell me if I’m doing it right.”

  “Well, quit practicing. You’ve got it down perfect.” Chloe folded the sketchbook and shoved it back in her bag.

  “You’re not going to let me see?”

  “Not yet.” Chloe reached for a muffin and centered it on her plate. “First, I want to know about the art project.”

  “I’m going to have my kitchen remodeled.”

  “You’ll have to talk to your carpenter about that.”

  “I have talked to Jace. Now I want to talk to you.”

  “About what?” Chloe asked, eyeing the muffin from all sides.

  “After the kitchen is painted, I’d like you to stencil the cabinets. Maybe do a border around the door facings and just below the ceiling.”

  Chloe scooped a spoonful of fruit from the bowl and glanced around the room. “A border would work. Leaves. Feathers. Maybe wisteria. And grapes.”

  “Grapes?”

  “Grapes. Greens and blues, I think. Maybe a touch of purple.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Eden sipped her tea, cradled the cup in her hands and, saving the best for last, plunged ahead. “But before you do that, I’d like you to paint a mural in the nursery.”

  Chloe’s faced glowed, then mellowed, then darkened. She returned Eden’s level gaze. “Is this because you feel sorry for me?”