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“I did make a start, but it’s hard to figure out what to do with it all. I guess I should just get some clearance people in.”
“We should go through it first just in case there’s valuable stuff in here. You might get some money for some of the furniture.”
“I’d rather just donate it to charity.” The few pounds he could get for the outdated furniture didn’t seem worth the effort of trying to sell it.
“The charity shop will probably pick up anything you don’t want,” she suggested.
“Great idea, thanks.” He picked up a whiskey bottle—about the only clean thing in the house, and grimaced. Kind of sad that this was the sum of his dad’s life. A load of junk that would be chucked or given away. “Let’s take a look around,” he said, putting down the bottle before the slight wedge of regret in his throat turned into something more.
He showed her around and nodded in the appropriate places when she pointed out the cornicing or the old Victorian door handles and talked excitedly of her plans. The fact was, he was hardly listening. He’d happily fling as much money in her direction as she needed to get this place fixed up if it kept the animated smile on her face.
When they stopped to inspect the old kitchen, he eyed her intently and tried hard to listen properly but it was no good. His gaze kept dropping to her lips and he pictured himself striding over, pressing her up against the dusty, damp wall and kissing her until she was breathless and panting.
Except... except that wouldn’t help his cause. Or would it? He wanted so badly to seem like a good guy, to prove he was different, but there were some things he couldn’t change. Like how much he wanted her.
He swivelled on a heel and muttered for her to follow him. Leading her upstairs, he forced himself to stop in his dad’s bedroom and study the squalid state for the hundredth time. He guessed in a way he could almost feel sorry for the old man. His father seemed to have passed his time sitting in bed, drinking and watching TV. It wasn’t much of a life.
Too polite to say anything, Maddie simply commented on what they’d do with the decor and then they moved onto his old bedroom. He couldn’t help but pause to watch her expression. A hint of a smile came over her face when they entered the room.
“Changed a bit,” she remarked.
Was she remembering all the things he was? How they used to come up here and make out for hours on end? Or the one memory of her that still seared his mind—how he took her virginity here and told her he loved her? He hadn’t asked her to marry him in this room but he remembered pacing back and forth before they went down to the beach as he planned his proposal with a cheap ring he’d bought from the local craft shop.
Did she still have that ring?
Sawyer shook his head to himself. No, she had probably thrown it away when he’d left her on their wedding day like a coward.
He still couldn’t regret it though. The years had turned him into a man finally worthy of her. If he got Maddie back, he’d hold onto her with everything he had. Nothing would scare him away now.
She stared at the spot where his bed used to be and glanced at him. Their gazes clashed and his stomach constricted. Yes, she was thinking the same. She had to be.
Maddie turned and prodded the wall where the bed used to rest against. “I always wondered...” She poked again. “I think there used to be a fireplace behind here.” Rapping her knuckles on the wall, she put her ear to it and listened. She knocked again.
A crack appeared in the plaster and before she could take her ear away, a cloud of dust erupted from the wall. Shards of plaster practically slipped to the floor, leaving her covered in white. She coughed and waved away the dust.
Sawyer compressed his lips to conceal a laugh. A layer of dust coated her hair and marred that sexy black dress. She looked a mess. And so insanely adorable.
She gave him a sheepish look before glancing back at the half-crumbled wall. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head and stepped forward to inspect the damage. “Hey, you were right. There is an old fireplace behind here.”
She grinned and swept both hands down her dress to wipe the dirt away but there was no salvaging it.
Gripping the edge of the fake wall, he gave a yank and more of it came crumbling down. “See?” He motioned to the edge of a black iron fireplace, finally revealed after what was probably at least fifty years if not more.
“It’s beautiful.”
He nodded, swinging a look her way. Fragments of plaster coated her hair and there were smears of dirt on her cheeks. Definitely beautiful.
Damn, he had missed her.
A slight tremor rumbled under his feet. He scowled and peered up. Another crack formed in the wall and it began to move. He yanked Maddie back as the partition wall above them collapsed. He latched a hand around her waist and threw her to the floor, covering her with his body. The rumbling sound abated and he tried to peer through the thick gloomy cloud that now swallowed the room. He could just make out the fireplace, now almost fully revealed.
He turned his attention to the woman beneath him, nearly white from dust and tucked half under his body. “Christ, you could have been killed.” He shifted and pressed her hair from her face to inspect her. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”
She grinned up at him and laughed. Damn woman, why was she laughing? Didn’t she realise she could have been hurt?
“I’m fine, I promise. You can stop...” She tried to press his right hand away and he realised he’d been running it over her body to make sure she was okay. “You can stop touching me.” The words came out breathlessly.
