move, especially since, deep in her bones, she wanted him to say no—to confess that he was delighted to have her back around again. Never mind that Burk would never use the word delighted .
Burk inched closer to her. She could feel his body heat, could feel something inside her twist at his nearness. Even sitting, he towered over her, and she had to tip her head back a little. If she inclined his head toward hers just slightly, she realized, their lips might meet.
“I’m not disappointed you’re back,” he said, his voice low, “but I don’t think you’re suddenly going to like White Pine.”
According to the way her neck hairs stood on end and the way her skin prickled deliciously at the heat of his breath, she liked being in White Pine very much. Or at least her body did, as long as it was this close to Burk.
He pushed away from the table and stood, the gap of air between them suddenly cold. Willa shivered.
“I’ll be up on the roof if you need me. I’ll call my crew later in the afternoon to get started on some plastering.” His clinical tone had her muscles tightening with both frustration and disappointment. And then he smiled, big and catlike. Willa wondered what that was about, until she looked down and realized her robe had fallen open again. Her nipples were pebbled against her nightgown, and he had certainly gotten another big eyeful of them.
As she heard his boots on the shingles above, Willa steeled her resolve. Burk Olmstead wasn’t going to tell her whether or not this new house—or this new life in White Pine for that matter—was a good idea. It was too late for that.
She was going to make it work. She had no other choice.
C HAPTER FIVE
Thursday, September 20, 11:47 a.m.
B urk nearly fell off the ladder.
Twice.
Damn Willa Masterson and that stupid nightgown and those emerald eyes of hers, he thought. She’d followed him around the house all morning tousled from sleep and looking like the most delectable thing he’d seen in days.
No, weeks.
It almost made him feel badly for how he’d made sure to point out every flaw in the house during the tour. He’d inflated the seriousness of each issue, which was unprofessional to say the least. He’d left Willa with the impression that the whole thing could come toppling down at any moment, and he’d clouded her bright eyes with doubt. But it had been necessary.
And it had almost worked.
At least until it had backfired spectacularly. He’d pushed too far, and now he had her questioning whether or not she should get other estimates. He’d just have to keep the costs in check, is all. Especially if it meant giving his crew some work for the next few weeks.
Besides, Willa was already debating whether to sell. Granted, her price was ludicrous, but a few more days of this, and Burk might be able to talk her down. Once she realized what a project this house was going to be, she’d abandon the whole endeavor.
Or at least, he hoped she would. Then he could buy it for himself and transform it the way he’d imagined for the past twelve years.
Truth be told, though, the Willa he remembered wasn’t so easily swayed. It was part of what he had loved about her—how she barreled through her life confidently. He smiled, thinking about the time she’d convinced the high school administration to start a newspaper. She’d prevailed upon the IT manager, Mr. Quaid, to load publishing software onto a handful of school computers, and she’d cajoled the bespeckled drama teacher, Mr. Wolcott, into supervising the publication.
On her own she’d figured out how to write headlines, decks, and stories. Even more impressively, she’d had kids thinking it was cool to be flipping through the paper as they ate their lunch in the cafeteria. Later, when she passed the role of editor along to a different student, she’d said she only wanted the paper so that the school would write about her track wins. In secret, though, she’d confessed to Burk that she
Burk inched closer to her. She could feel his body heat, could feel something inside her twist at his nearness. Even sitting, he towered over her, and she had to tip her head back a little. If she inclined his head toward hers just slightly, she realized, their lips might meet.
“I’m not disappointed you’re back,” he said, his voice low, “but I don’t think you’re suddenly going to like White Pine.”
According to the way her neck hairs stood on end and the way her skin prickled deliciously at the heat of his breath, she liked being in White Pine very much. Or at least her body did, as long as it was this close to Burk.
He pushed away from the table and stood, the gap of air between them suddenly cold. Willa shivered.
“I’ll be up on the roof if you need me. I’ll call my crew later in the afternoon to get started on some plastering.” His clinical tone had her muscles tightening with both frustration and disappointment. And then he smiled, big and catlike. Willa wondered what that was about, until she looked down and realized her robe had fallen open again. Her nipples were pebbled against her nightgown, and he had certainly gotten another big eyeful of them.
As she heard his boots on the shingles above, Willa steeled her resolve. Burk Olmstead wasn’t going to tell her whether or not this new house—or this new life in White Pine for that matter—was a good idea. It was too late for that.
She was going to make it work. She had no other choice.
C HAPTER FIVE
Thursday, September 20, 11:47 a.m.
B urk nearly fell off the ladder.
Twice.
Damn Willa Masterson and that stupid nightgown and those emerald eyes of hers, he thought. She’d followed him around the house all morning tousled from sleep and looking like the most delectable thing he’d seen in days.
No, weeks.
It almost made him feel badly for how he’d made sure to point out every flaw in the house during the tour. He’d inflated the seriousness of each issue, which was unprofessional to say the least. He’d left Willa with the impression that the whole thing could come toppling down at any moment, and he’d clouded her bright eyes with doubt. But it had been necessary.
And it had almost worked.
At least until it had backfired spectacularly. He’d pushed too far, and now he had her questioning whether or not she should get other estimates. He’d just have to keep the costs in check, is all. Especially if it meant giving his crew some work for the next few weeks.
Besides, Willa was already debating whether to sell. Granted, her price was ludicrous, but a few more days of this, and Burk might be able to talk her down. Once she realized what a project this house was going to be, she’d abandon the whole endeavor.
Or at least, he hoped she would. Then he could buy it for himself and transform it the way he’d imagined for the past twelve years.
Truth be told, though, the Willa he remembered wasn’t so easily swayed. It was part of what he had loved about her—how she barreled through her life confidently. He smiled, thinking about the time she’d convinced the high school administration to start a newspaper. She’d prevailed upon the IT manager, Mr. Quaid, to load publishing software onto a handful of school computers, and she’d cajoled the bespeckled drama teacher, Mr. Wolcott, into supervising the publication.
On her own she’d figured out how to write headlines, decks, and stories. Even more impressively, she’d had kids thinking it was cool to be flipping through the paper as they ate their lunch in the cafeteria. Later, when she passed the role of editor along to a different student, she’d said she only wanted the paper so that the school would write about her track wins. In secret, though, she’d confessed to Burk that she
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