Unfinished Business by Nora Roberts

I’ve got a couple of guys hammering it together.” He looked at her again, considering. “I’ll drive you out some time so you can take a look.”
    “Maybe.”
    “How about now?” He rose to put his dishes in the sink.
    “Oh, well…I really have to get back….”
    “For what?”
    “To practice.”
    He turned. Their shoulders brushed. “Practice later.”
    It was a challenge. They both knew it, both understood it. They were both determined to prove that they could be in each other’s company without stirring up old yearnings.
    “All right. I’ll follow you out, though. That way you won’t have to come back into town.”
    “Fine.” He took her arm and led her out the back door.
    He’d had a secondhand Chevy sedan when she’d left town. Now he drove a sporty four-wheel drive. Three miles out of town, when they came to the steep, narrow lane, she saw the wisdom of it.

    It would be all but impassable in the winter, she thought as her Mercedes jolted up the graveled incline. Though the leaves were little more than tender shoots, the woods were thick. She could see the wild dogwoods blooming white. She narrowly avoided a rut. Gravel spit out from under her wheels as she negotiated the last sweeping turn and came to a halt behind Brady.
    The dog came racing, barking, his tail fanning in the breeze.
    The shell of the house was up. He wasn’t contenting himself with a cabin in the woods, she noted. It was a huge, spreading two-story place. The windows that were in place were tall, with half-moon arches over them. What appeared to be the skeleton of a gable rose up from the second story. It would command a majestic view of the distant Blue Mountains.
    The grounds, covered with the rubble of construction, sloped down to a murmuring creek. Rain would turn the site into a mud pit, she thought as she stepped from her car. But, oh, when it was terraced and planted, it would be spectacular.
    “It’s fabulous.” She pushed back her hair as the early evening breeze stirred it. “What a perfect spot.”
    “I thought so.” He caught Kong by the collar before he could leap on her.
    “He’s all right.” She laughed as she bent down to rub him. “Hello, fella. Hello, big boy. You’ve got plenty of room to run around here, don’t you?”
    “Twelve acres.” He was getting that ache again, just under his heart, watching her play with his dog. “I’m going to leave most of it alone.”
    “I’m glad.” She turned a full circle. “I’d hate to see you manicure the woods. I’d nearly forgotten how wonderful they are. How quiet.”

    “Come on.” He took her hand, held it. “I’ll give you the tour.”
    “How long have you had the land?”
    “Almost a year.” They walked across a little wooden bridge, over the creek. “Watch your step. The ground’s a mess.” He looked down at her elegant Italian flats. “Here.” He hoisted her up and over the rubble. She felt the bunching of his arm muscles, he the firm length of her legs.
    “You don’t have to—” He set her down, hastily, in front of a pair of atrium doors. “Still Mr. Smooth, aren’t you?”
    “You bet.”
    Inside there was subflooring and drywall. She saw power tools, sawhorses and piles of lumber. A huge stone fireplace was already built into the north wall. Temporary stairs led to the second level. The scent of sawdust was everywhere.
    “The living room,” he explained. “I wanted plenty of light. The kitchen’s over there.”
    He indicated a generous space that curved off the main room. There was a bay window over the sink that looked out into the woods. A stove and refrigerator were nestled between unfinished counters.
    “We’ll have an archway to keep in tune with the windows,” he went on. “Then another will lead around to the dining room.”
    She looked up at the sky through a trio of skylights. “It seems very ambitious.”
    “I only intend to do it once.” Taking her hand again, he led her around the first floor.