Her Very Own Family. Trish Milburn
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okay. Saves me the trouble of asking more questions.”
She huffed out a laugh. “You have your dad’s sense of humor.”
“Really? I’ve been accused of having no sense of humor.”
“Everyone has one, some just deeper than others.”
He returned his gaze to the sky peeking through the trees. Something about her confession about her life unsettled him. Was it that she had indeed shared too much of herself with him? He’d turned into a surface-relationship kind of guy, much to his family’s disappointment. Nothing too serious. Not that he and Audrey had or would have a relationship beyond temporary coworkers.
“So why didn’t you hire roofers?” he asked.
“I like my arm and my leg, thanks. The cost of the electrician and the plumber is going to kill me as it is. Plus, I like to do things for myself as much as I can.”
“Hey, I bet you have contacts from being in fund-raising. Maybe you could find an investor for your business.”
“No.” She didn’t yell or snap, but he heard the strength and finality behind the single word even before Audrey suddenly rose to her feet.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No, you’re fine. Enjoy the creek. I just have a lot of work to do.”
The water sloshed as he lifted his feet out and stood, too. “Audrey, what’s wrong?” Had his bad memories caused him to say something he shouldn’t without realizing it?
“Time is money. I don’t need to be lying around surveying the past, not when I have a blue bazillion tasks with my name on them.”
He watched her retrieve her boots and socks and stalk off toward the mill. He searched back over their conversation but couldn’t figure out what had altered the mood so drastically.
Women. Their moods shifted more than a house built on clay.
BRADY PROBABLY THOUGHT she’d lost her mind, and perhaps she was a bit crazy when it came to asking for money for herself. She simply didn’t do it. She hadn’t even applied for a bank loan to finance the purchase and refurbishing of the mill. Instead, she had liquidated accounts and sold the possessions she could live without. She was doing this alone, even if she had to get another job to make her dream come true. Even if she had to make her last penny scream for mercy.
No one would ever be able to accuse her of being like her mother.
She sank onto the stairs leading to the loft and pressed against the pressure building behind her forehead. What she’d told Brady about why she’d left her life was only partially true. But she wasn’t about to tell him that she’d simply gotten tired of people always watching her, wondering if she would yet prove to be her mother’s daughter in action as well as genetics. Part of the allure of Willow Glen was that no one evidently knew who she was beyond her identity as the newest resident. And she hoped it stayed that way.
When she heard Brady step back into the mill, she rose and climbed the rest of the way up to the loft. Once there, though, she felt trapped with nothing productive to do. She’d already crunched the numbers half a dozen times, and she couldn’t really start refurbishing the living space until the plumber and electrician completed their respective tasks.
It was too blasted hot to apply sealant to the roof, and she was too antsy to spend time in the same room as Brady. She’d really like to grab her camera gear and head off into the woods to photograph some wildflowers, a hobby that never failed to bring her joy. After all, she had all those beautiful, handmade frames to fill. But with so much to do, she knew she wouldn’t fully enjoy the outing. Time was money, and she wasn’t exactly awash in either.
She walked over to the small loft door. It would eventually become a window overlooking a bend in the creek beyond the mill and the long line of weeping willows lining the bank. She envisioned a gazebo in that bend complete with a table and chairs for special, private meals for guests.
Inspired, she grabbed her notebook of ideas and started sketching the gazebo and the surroundings. She pictured it white in contrast to the greens of the trees shading it, covered in twinkling white lights, a quaint table with two chairs in its center. A romantic spot for couples on a special date. She smiled as she imagined marriage proposals being offered there by nervous grooms-to-be.
She might not be lucky in love, but she had a romantic streak several miles wide. And this gazebo idea had it humming. Even though she should be focusing all her energy on the mill and not adding even more expenses, she couldn’t dampen the enthusiasm. The desire to go buy twinkling lights, tulle for the gazebo’s ceiling and magazines with gazebo designs rushed through her, but she forced her attention back to her list of priorities. With the structural work progressing well, she needed to go buy the lumber necessary for the construction of the kitchen in the back corner next to the stairs. She estimated it was time to look at appliances, as well.
After all, she was at a standstill on the mill until the electrician came tomorrow morning. Maybe she could get some landscaping flowers for the area around the front of the mill, and a couple of hanging pots.
Okay, she had to stop her runaway brain before she imagined herself right into debt.
She grabbed her keys and purse and headed for the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she noticed Brady leaning against the railing around the mill’s machinery, wiping the sweat from his face with a paper towel. She swallowed when she saw how his damp T-shirt molded to his honest-work muscles. For a shocking moment, she pictured her and Brady in that fairy-tale gazebo before she looked away and mentally smacked herself upside the head.
“Where you off to?” he asked.
“Need some supplies. I think I’ll drive down to Elizabethton.”
“Mind if I ride along? The last piece of framing I have isn’t quite long enough. We could use it for a smaller window, but not this one. And since the old man left me without wheels…”
So much for the peace of a solo trip. She forced herself not to scream at his self-invitation. As if to spite her efforts to avoid him, now she was going to be trapped in a small, confined space with him for the twenty miles to Elizabethton and back.
“Sure. We’ll get enough to do the window upstairs, too, while we’re at it. And make sure we get the best lumber for the kitchen.”
“Do you have the measurements for the upstairs window?”
“Yeah.” She patted her purse where she kept her running to-buy list. “Right here with your dad’s specs for the kitchen.”
“She’s on the ball,” he said as he pushed away from the railing.
It was hardly a romantic compliment, but she couldn’t help how her skin warmed as she met his gaze. Seriously, she should have dunked her head in the creek instead of her feet.
“YOU DO KNOW that Christmas is seven months away, right?”
Audrey glanced up from her spot in the garden section at Lowe’s as Brady wheeled the cart with the lumber needed for the window up next to her. He looked so at home here, in the middle of a warehouse full of home-improvement ecstasy.
“They’re for the gazebo, not a Christmas tree,” she said as she placed several boxes of stringed white lights in the cart. At his confused expression, she flipped open one of the magazines she held and showed him a beautiful gazebo decorated for weddings. “Guys find these things cheesy, but women will love a romantic gazebo by the creek, a private dining area for couples.” She looked at the picture again and smiled at the magic the simple picture conveyed. “We might even have weddings there.” She was trying to cram as much happiness and positive energy into her life as possible, and what could be happier than a wedding?
She hadn’t planned to buy anything for the gazebo today. But when she’d finished ordering what she