Million-Dollar Maverick. Christine Rimmer
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what do you want?”
She turned her coffee mug, slim fingers light and coaxing on the rim. “I’ve been staying in one of the trailers they brought in for newcomers, over on Sawmill Street.”
“I know,” he admitted, though he hadn’t planned to. Her pupils widened slightly in surprise. It pleased him that he’d succeeded in surprising her. “Maybe I think about you now and then, too.”
She gazed at him steadily for a moment. And then there it was, that hint of a smile again. “I’m tired of that trailer.”
“I can understand that.”
“But as I’m sure you know, housing is still kind of scarce around here.” So many homes had been damaged in the flood the year before, and they weren’t all rebuilt yet. “I really like the look of the empty house next door to you. And I heard a rumor you might own that one, too.”
The woman had nerve, no doubt about it. “You want me to give you a house just for sticking out a Montana winter?”
Her smile got wider. “Not give it to me, Nate. Sell it to me.”
Sell it to her....
The former owners of both houses had chosen not to rebuild after the flood, so Nate got them cheap. He’d been a long way from rich at the time. His plan then had been to fix the houses up slowly, starting with the smaller one next door. He’d figured he would put money in them when he had it to spare, getting his brothers to lend a hand with the work.
But after his big win, he found he could afford to renovate them both without having to drag it out. With everyone believing his cover story of a windfall on the stock market, he’d told himself it was safe to go for it. He could fix them up and do it right.
He should have been more cautious, probably. Not spent so much on the finishes, not redone both houses. Or at least, if he had to go all out, he should have had his lawyer advise him, maybe put them under the control of the trust he’d established to make sure he would remain an anonymous winner.
Callie kept after him. “Oh, come on, Nate. You can’t live in two houses at once, can you? I’m guessing you fixed that other one up with the intention of selling it, anyway.”
He thought again that she was one aggravating woman. But she did have a point: he’d bought both houses with the idea that he would eventually turn them around. And really, she didn’t seem the least bit suspicious about where his money might have come from. She just wanted to get out of the trailer park. He needed to stop being paranoid when there was absolutely nothing to be worried about. “Finish your coffee.”
“And then what?”
“I’ll give you a tour of the other house.”
Those fine dark eyes gleamed brighter than ever. She pushed back her chair. “I can take my coffee with me. Let’s go.”
An hour later, after he’d shown her the property and then gone ahead and fed her breakfast, Callie made him an offer. It was a fair offer and he didn’t need to quibble over pennies anymore. She stuck out her soft hand and they shook on it. He ignored the thrill that shivered along his skin at the touch of her palm to his.
* * *
On the first of July, Callie moved into her new house next door to Nate Crawford. The day before, she’d had a bunch of new furniture delivered, stuff she’d picked out in a couple of Kalispell furniture stores. But she still had to haul all her other things from the trailer park on Sawmill Street.
Emmet DePaulo insisted she take the day off from the clinic and loaned her his pickup. Then, being Emmet, he decided to close the clinic for the morning and give her a hand.
He got a couple of friends of his, Vietnam veterans in their sixties, old guys still in surprisingly good shape, to help load up the pickup for her. Then he drove it to her new house, and he and his pals carried everything inside, after which they returned to the trailer and got the rest of her stuff. With the four of them working, they had the trailer emptied out and everything over at the new house before noon.
In her new kitchen, Callie served them all takeout from the chicken-wing place on North Broomtail Road. Once they’d eaten, Emmet’s friends took off. Emmet told her not to work too hard and left to go open the clinic for the afternoon.
She stood out on the porch and waved as he drove away, her gaze wandering to Nate’s big house. She hadn’t seen him all day. There were no lights shining from inside and no sign of his truck. But then, it was a sunny day, and his house had lots of windows. He could be inside, and his truck could very well be sitting in that roomy three-car garage.
Not that it mattered. She’d bought her house because she liked it, not because of the man next door.
After living in a trailer for six months, her new place felt absolutely palatial. There were two bedrooms and a bath upstairs, for guests or whatever. Downstairs were the kitchen, great room, front hall and master suite. The master suite had two entrances, one across from the great room in the entry hall and the other in the kitchen, through the master bath in back. The master bath was the only bathroom on the first floor. It worked great that you could get to it without going through the bedroom.
Callie got busy putting her new house together, starting with her bedroom. That way, when she got too tired to unpack another box, she’d have a bed to fall into. She put her toiletries in the large downstairs bath and hung up the towels. And then she went out to the kitchen to get going in there.
At a little after three, the doorbell rang.
Nate? Her silly heart beat faster and her cheeks suddenly felt too warm.
Which was flat-out ridiculous.
True, she found Nate intriguing. He was such a big, handsome package of contradictions. He could be a jerk. Paige Traub, her friend and also a patient at the clinic, had once called Nate an “unmitigated douche.” There were more than a few people in Rust Creek Falls who agreed with Paige.
But Callie had this feeling about him, a feeling that he wasn’t as bad as he could seem sometimes. That deep inside, he was a wounded, lonely soul.
Plus, well, there was the hotness factor. Tall, with muscles. Shoulders for days. Beautiful green eyes and thick brown hair that made a girl want to run her fingers through it.
Callie blinked and shook her head. She reminded herself that after her most recent love disaster, she was swearing off men for at least the next decade. Especially arrogant, know-it-all types like Nate.
The doorbell rang again and her heart beat even faster. Nothing like a visit from a hunky next-door neighbor. Her hands were covered in newsprint from the papers she’d used to wrap the dishes and glassware. She quickly rinsed them in the sink and ran to get the door.
It wasn’t Nate.
“Faith!” Like Paige Traub, Faith Harper, Callie’s new neighbor on her other side, was a patient at the clinic. Also like Paige, Faith was pregnant. Both women were in their third trimester, but Faith was fast approaching her due date. Faith had big blue eyes and baby-fine blond hair. She and Callie had hit it off from the first.
Faith held out a red casserole dish. “My mom’s chicken divan. It’s really good. I had to make sure my favorite nurse had something for dinner.”
Callie took the dish. “Oh, you are a lifesaver. I was just facing the sad prospect of doing Wings to Go twice in one day.”
Beaming, Faith rested both hands on her enormous belly. “Can’t have that.”
“Come on in....” Callie led the way back to the kitchen, where she put the casserole in the fridge and took out a pitcher of iced herbal tea. “Ta-da! Raspberry leaf.” High in calcium and magnesium, raspberry-leaf tea was safe for pregnant women from the second trimester on. It helped to prepare the uterus for labor and to prevent postpartum bleeding. Callie had recommended it to Faith.
Faith laughed. “Did you know I’d be over?”
“Well,