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“We get along,” she explained. “Well, my older brother is also in construction and he resents me a tad but I ignore him. My younger brother is in the army so I don’t get to see him much. But my sisters Tilly and Alana and I are close. We butt heads but we love each other.”
She saw the darkness in his eyes, the searching glance.
“Do you ever get lonely?” he asked, the ache of his own loneliness echoing out around them.
“All the time,” she admitted. “It’s hard being a woman in construction but...I’ve always loved old houses and I want to fix up the one I grew up in one day. It’s a beauty but it’s falling apart. I want to do that for my parents if they’ll allow me. We are a proud clan.” She went on to tell him about her father’s health and struggles. “I want to do what I can to keep them afloat since they’ve supported all of us through thick and thin.”
Santo could see the remorse and the pride in her expression and in her eyes. Her amazing green eyes. “A big family, huh? That explains why you didn’t complain when I threw Nate at you. You’re probably used to that kind of messy morning.”
She smiled at that. A pretty smile that seemed to make this tiny space shrink even more and go at least twenty degrees warmer. “Yes. I’m the middle one. Irish to the core, too. So you can only imagine fighting over the last slice of pizza or who got dibs on my mom’s car on Saturday night.”
“I’m thinking you won in both cases.”
She laughed and dug into the shrimp again. Then she tore off a piece of the chunky French bread he’d included in the meal. “You’d better believe it. Being caught in the middle kept me out of the fray on either side. I got away with a lot.”
Santo relaxed, his face muscles going slack, the constant ache in his neck loosing up the vise grip it had held on him for so long now. Glancing at her cupcake, he said the same thing he’d said about the Peaches-and-Cream cupcake they’d shared a few days ago. “I know where you bought that and I sure hope you’re willing to share it.”
“Let’s go over my plans for the lake house and then we can fight over the cupcake. But I seem to remember I won last time.”
“Can we negotiate?” he asked, realizing he just might be flirting with his house contractor. He’d forgotten how, but this felt dangerously close. Too close. It also felt refreshing and good. Too good. He’d made a vow to never open up his heart to a woman again. Santo had loved his wife but his love couldn’t save their marriage or her. He’d been blinded by ambition and a need to please her, no matter the cost. Why would he want to risk that again? No, he’d go into this with his eyes wide open and his children as his first priority. Why would he put his children through any more trauma?
“Of course we can negotiate,” Davina said, bringing him out of his anxious reevaluation. She opened her battered canvas tool bag and pulled out a notebook. “Everything is negotiable, right?”
“Right.” But Santo decided this woman would be a tough adversary. And she probably always came out a winner. At least she’d keep him on his toes.
“Are you ready?” she asked, a bright glee in her eyes. “Let me show you what I have in mind to make your next home look like the showpiece it’s supposed to be. Once I’m finished, you should be able to move your children into it knowing it’s the best house it can be. I’ll keep the historical integrity while updating the kitchens and baths, and adding charm to the living areas and bedrooms.”
“You sound like those guys on that home network show that my mother used to watch all the time.”
“I’m trying to sell you on the idea, so I practiced that speech.”
“You’re very convincing, so I’m ready,” Santo replied, a new kind of excitement coursing through him. But he wasn’t ready, really. He didn’t have a clue about his old house or his new house or her or why he was so intent on moving. Maybe he wasn’t trying to start a new life for his children. Maybe he was just running from the memories and the guilt associated with the showy, ostentatious house that had only brought him misery.
Chapter Five (#u31c29930-f7ee-52a7-a161-b38f4bd0531b)
Davina pulled out the sketches she’d made and then placed the original house plans she’d gotten from the former owner onto the counter. “Can you see?” she asked Santo, well aware of the hint of spice in his aftershave.
“I’ll come around,” he replied.
Both afraid of that and doing a happy dance in her head in spite of her fears, Davina reminded herself that she had to maintain a professional persona or she could very well mess up this project. So she took a calming breath and ran a hand over the plans and the photos she’d taken and printed out.
“This is an interesting house,” she said, her excitement building with each word. “I can’t wait to get started on it.”
“And when will that be?” he asked over her shoulder, the warmth radiating off of him like a welcome wind.
“In a week or so,” she replied. “We’ve done a lot at the bay house since Mrs. Brownlee manages to get the kids out of the house while the construction crew is there.”
“Yes, they’ve been going over to my parents’ place a lot,” he said. “My parents are on a cruise right now, but the kids love it there anyway. And our housekeeper still lives here, so she’s a help with them, too.”
Rikki had told Davina that their parents lived in a big house on the bay not far from Santo’s house. The Alvanetti compound was off the road and secluded and had a large horse stable and pasture attached. A perfect place for kids to play. A place that used to have armed guards, according to the gossip she picked up on here and there.
“Well, I’m glad they have somewhere to hang out after school,” she said. “Anyway, we’re almost done with the floors and the walls have been painted and freshened and the furniture edited down a bit. Rikki and I picked out some lovely rugs and vases from your store earlier this week.”
“You were in the store?” he asked, surprise in his dark eyes. “You should have come back to the warehouse and office. I would have given you a tour.”
“We were in a hurry,” she said. “And I didn’t want to bother you.”
No need to visit the man at work unless she had something really important to discuss with him. Which could happen one day since she’d have a million decisions to make during renovations.
“That can only mean my sister went over budget on whatever she bought, even with the family discount.”
“Because of the family discount,” Davina replied with a grin. “But the bay house is coming along. What do you think about it so far?”
He studied the plans in front of them and then looked up at her with admiration. “You’ve done an amazing job. I couldn’t see it before but you’ve brought out the integrity of the place. Now I know what a mid-century modern is supposed to look like, at least.”
Davina wanted to hug him for complimenting her work. But even more wonderful, he understood what she’d try to accomplish with his swank waterfront property. The big house still had its industrial planes and angles but she’d added color and fire and brightness that brought the outside in and merged the house with the bluffs and the bay beyond.
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” she said. “It should be ready for you to list soon.” She poured him a glass of water and then refilled her glass. Then she named the estimated selling price.
“Wow, that much?”
She laughed at the shock on his face. “Yes, that much. I did a good job.”
“I think you did.” He tapped a finger on the plans. “On to the new house. What do you want to do there?”
She laughed and tugged at her haphazard bun. “So much. A complete overhaul.” When she looked up, he was staring at her with a look akin to awe and longing.
“Santo? Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Uh...yes.” His gaze moved over her face and then settled on her hair. “I’ve just never known a contractor with such beautiful hair.”
A hot blush moved down Davina’s neck. Great. Now she’d get the blotchies, as her sister Tilly always called them. A flush that only showed off her freckles. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
He kept staring at her.
“Santo, the house?”
“Oh, yes, the house,” he said with a wry smile. “I need to focus on the house.”
Frantic now, she searched her notes. What was happening to her, anyway? She never acted like a ninny with clients. But then she’d never had a client who’d commented on her hair in such an intimate way. The room grew warm, the air stifling.
“It’s a lovely house,” she said, regaining her footing while she didn’t make eye contact. “Only one owner for the last fifty years or so and with a big family that’s scattered now. He’s in an assisted living home up in Milton.”
She took a breath and stared at the house plan. “I went and visited with Mr. Floyd so I could get a feel for the place. He told me all about his wife, Katie, and their four boys. Kind of reminded me of my family back in Louisiana. They lovingly took care of the home but no one has lived in it for a couple of years and it needs some updates. The kitchen is quaint but outdated and, of course, the bathrooms need major overhauls.”
He laughed and nodded, his smile radiating even more heat. “Of course.”
Davina had to swallow. Grabbing her water, she gulped it too fast and started coughing.
“Are you okay?” Santo asked, those all-seeing eyes moving over her again.
“Yes.” She hacked another round and prayed the blotchies were gone by now. “Just...not very ladylike.”
He smiled and pointed to her notes. “So I think I’m beginning to see how you operate. You redo the current house to sell and you redo the new house before anyone can move in. You’ve got quite a racket going here, don’t you?”
Seeing the mirth in his eyes, Davina nodded. “Of course. I make money on both ends of the deal. My mama raised me right.”
“Smart.” He leaned close and she became transported to some exotic spot where herbs and spices were rich and sweet and enticing. The man smelled like something unique and fresh and forbidden. An outdoor market, a quiet alfresco café, a moonlit night in some faraway place.
Get over it, Davina.
“So not only are you smart but you’re also pretty and you can outwork any man I’ve ever met. You’re amazing.”
“You haven’t seen the final bill yet,” she quipped, only because she was about to hyperventilate. “Anyway, so we have the first floor. We’ll start with sprucing up the entire outside, of course. Fresh white paint and new shutters in keeping with all of the designs around the lake.”
“Yes, we need to keep up with appearances,” he said.
“Historical features,” she corrected. “You know Lake Street is a prestigious and unique oval road that runs all along the lake.”
“Yes, I know that. That’s why I decided to buy there. The kids love it when we go to Alec Caldwell’s house.”
“Oh, the big Victorian with the turret on top. I love that house. A perfect example of preserving the historical features while bringing a home into this century. Just gorgeous.”
“My sister loves it, too.”
“Alec and Marla are so nice,” Davina said, glad to be on a safe subject. “And I’ve gained five pounds because I seem to go by her café just about every day.”
Santo eyed the chocolate cupcake. “Yes, you do travel with one of those hidden in your big bag at all times, right?”
“Right.”
“Let’s get on with this so I can sample your treat.”
His gaze wasn’t on that cupcake.
He was staring at her lips.
Davina swallowed again but refrained from grabbing her water. “So we have the downstairs master with a lovely sitting area. I know you wanted some office space—”
“You do?”
He looked so surprised, she laughed. “Yes, because your sister told me. Thank goodness she knows what you’d like to happen with this house.”
“I haven’t talked to her in a while.”
“Well, then, she’s making decisions for you. Good ones, though.”
Santo ran a hand through his hair and tugged at it as if he wanted to pull it all out by the roots. “I need to become more involved in this, don’t I?”
Davina motioned to the sofa. “Let’s talk.”
He sat down with her and gave her a helpless glance. “My wife always took care of any repairs or updates on our house. But I didn’t always agree with her taste.”
Having witnessed Rikki’s gaudy taste, Davina could agree with that.
“If you don’t get involved, you can’t complain,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me what you want in a new home, Santo?”
He leaned forward and templed his fingers over his knees. “Everyone keeps asking me that,” he said. “They ask me why I’m leaving such a stunning house and that amazing view.”
“And what do you tell them? Or what is it you’re not telling them?”
He kept staring at his hands. “I tell them I’m ready for a change, that the kids need something different and more kid-friendly.”
“That’s all true,” Davina replied. “But I need to know more. I need to know your heart. Because when I renovate a home for someone new to move into, I want to show that family’s heart in everything I do. I don’t know your heart.”
“You don’t want to know my heart,” he said, getting up, his mood dark now. “And me coming here was a bad idea. Just remodel the place and make it livable, Davina. That’s what I’m paying you for.”
Davina couldn’t give up in spite of the glaring warning in his eyes. “What else are you willing to pay for?”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m worried that you’re moving for all the wrong reasons.”
“Do you want me to find another contractor?”
“No,” she said, her determination giving her the courage to face him. “I want this job. I need this job. But I also want to understand you...so I can make you a home that you’ll appreciate and be happy in.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely happy again,” he said, his hands on his hips, his eyes full of a raging torment. “But...I want my children to be happy. I want them to have a tree house and swings and I want them to go fishing on the pier by the lake. I want to take long walks with them and read to them and hold them when they’re afraid. I want to stop their nightmares and show them that we’re going to be all right.”
He halted, his eyes filling with dread and apprehension. “I don’t like talking about this. Just do what you need to do, and leave me out of the details.”
He turned to go.
But she moved in front of him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed. But, Santo, what you just told me gives me a whole different perspective.”
“I’m sure it does,” he said, anger coloring the words. “Now you feel pity for me and my poor children, right?”
“No. Not pity. I admire you for what you’re trying to do. Why don’t you cut yourself some slack and become part of the process. There’s healing in renovating things, especially houses. They can tell a story.”
“And what does my current home tell you?”
“That you’re lonely and full of guilt.”
He stood at the door, his head turned toward the wide window that showcased the old live oaks and palm trees and the lake beyond. “I came here thinking I was ready to dive in and help you, put in some physical labor. But I don’t think I can do this, Davina. All I know is my own work and it consumes me because I had to bring my family out of a disaster. I stay busy and I try to get home and spend time with my children. I try to sleep.”
“But you don’t sleep, do you?”
He shook his head and stayed silent.
