Page 54 of Brant
“Three days,” she murmured as he took her hand and helped her out.
“You had a fever,” he explained for the third time. “They could not jolly well release you with a fever of a hundred and four.”
“I wanted to come home.”
“Quiet. You’re home now.”
“I’m upset with you.”
“I get that. Watch the puddle.” The snow had finally stopped, and the sun was out in all its brilliance, melting everything in sight.
The doors were opened by a beaming Mrs. Holt, who had stayed back to make sure everything was finalized.
“Mrs. O’Keefe, Ms. Indigo, I mean,” she amended when her mistress cast her an impatient glance. “You’re back. Welcome back.”
“Thank you.”
“I made some sweet potato delight and grilled chicken.” She gave her boss a meaningful look. “And set everything up on the balcony.”
“Perfect.” He sent her a look of approval.
“Now, I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, you don’t have to leave just because I’m here.”
“Bridge night. I will see you in the morning.” Grabbing her jacket, she headed out.
“I think she still doesn’t like me.”
“Nonsense. She adores you.”
Shaking her head at how obtuse men were, she allowed herself to be led up the stairs, and stopped dead when he swept the double doors open. She had gotten so used to seeing the purely masculine décor that showed his excellent taste that it took her completely by surprise when she was met with something different, way different. The décor had changed and the colors were a bold red and blue. The tan leather sofa had been replaced by a sturdy ruby-red one with piles of red and blue cushions. Even the center table was new. Instead of the modern sharp-edged oak, there was a beautiful antique that she recognized had come from her store.
Stepping further into the room, she could pick up little pieces that had been in her store. He watched as she walked into the bedroom, her gasp loud in the otherwise quiet room. End tables, a cherry wood dresser, a red velvet love seat she had picked up in a tiny store on a visit to Sacramento and an Indian rug she had wondered if she had paid too much for. They were all there. Inside the closet was a vanity she had contemplated making her own.
“There’s more.” His deep voice had her turning around. With a nod of his head, he indicated the door to one of the other rooms and she went in. That simply floored her. He had given her an office. Walking toward the polished oak desk, she went to sit on the squishy and comfortable sturdy oak chair and sat down, her legs giving out.
“You did this for me?”
“No. I did it for the housekeeper. What do you think?”
He saw the tears welling and moved toward her swiftly.
“Don’t-”
“Suck it up,” she said tremulously. “If you’re going to do things like this for me, you should get accustomed to the waterworks.”
He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands sliding along her thighs.
“No one has ever done anything remotely like this for me before. No one ever thought about me this way before, taking care of my needs. I-” She swallowed the awfully big lump in her throat and tried again. “I don’t know that I deserve anything like this. Allmy life, I had to fight for what I wanted and now- Oh God!” She slid down on her knees and buried her face against his chest, the sobs wracking her body.
“This is supposed to be a happy occasion.” His hands ran up and down her back soothingly, his own emotions coming to the fore. “If I had known it would cause so many tears-”
“Oh, shut it,” she whispered, her fingers clutching his sweater. Lifting her tearstained face, she gazed at him, all the love and devotion right there in her eyes. She did not have to say anything. Lifting his hands, he cradled her face, wiping at the moisture.
“There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you. Don’t cry,” he warned sharply. “If you start this again, I’m walking out, understood? You’re making a fool of yourself and, worse, you’re going to make me start making a fool of myself, and that’s unacceptable.”
“All right.” She swallowed the tears. “Whatever.”
