Sweetheart Bride

Chapter Four

“Really?” Brenna smiled big at her new boss. “Just like that, you’ll keep the mural?”

“I’m not always so agreeable,” Nicholas said, giving her an exaggerated frown. “Your enthusiasm is obviously wearing off on me.”

Brenna couldn’t believe it was that easy. She’d prepared herself for a difficult task at every turn. “You seem like the type who bosses everyone around with a growl, waving your hand at this one and that one while you’re on your phone with someone mysterious and even more demanding than you.”

He actually laughed out loud.

And took her breath away.

“You’ve got me pegged, I see.”

“I’ve worked with many highly demanding artists and supervisors,” she said, her smile dying. “I miss that.”

He motioned toward the stairs. “So you think you’ll get bored with just me to growl at you?”

The thought of him actually doing that only added to the tremendous attraction she felt toward him. Bad, bad idea.

“No, I’m never bored. I always find something to do. But please, growl and be mean. Keeps me on my toes.”

“I gave you the mural,” he said after they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Make it beautiful for me.”

Brenna did a slow swallow to get her breath under control. She got the distinct feeling this man didn’t give anything easily. “I will,” she said on a meek but firm tone. “And if I make everything else I choose beautiful for you, will that be a good thing?”

He put his hand on her back and urged her up the stairs. “That will be a very good thing. This house is the biggest renovation of my career. It’s a make-or-break deal.”

She whirled, one step above him, and stared down into his dark, rich-chocolate eyes. “And you picked me to help out. Are you loony?”

His eyes went even darker. “I’ve been called loco, sí.”

Brenna didn’t think the man was crazy. No, rather she decided she was the loony one. Her impulsive nature always got her into trouble, but her sensible side usually tugged her back to earth. And even though she was standing on a centuries-old staircase looking down at a man who most certainly would make any woman swoon, no matter the time or place, she held herself aloof and told herself to snap out of it. She was here for a job not a new boyfriend.

“I’ve been called that, too,” she said before turning away again. “We should get along just fine.”

He did that growling thing. “Take a right on the landing.”

“What are we looking at now?” she asked, afraid to glance back at him because she could feel the heat of his gaze following her. No, stalking her like a big cat out in the swamp.

He made it to the landing and looked around the wide, empty hallway. “This floor contains four bedrooms and baths for each. The baths were installed much later after the house was built, of course. We’ve finished the basic renovations, but we still have a lot of work to do up here. We enlarged the baths and the closets and made sure the structure is sound as far as wiring and knocking down walls. But your job is to pick one piece of interesting art for each room, especially the master bedroom.”

“I’m on it,” Brenna said, scribbling notes while she tried to ignore his sultry accent and his growling explanations. “Does your...mysterious owner have any preferences?”

“He has a few, but in this case, he told me to surprise him.”

“Surprise. That’s a new one. I like a good challenge.” Brenna thought about that, then whirled. “Are you the owner, Nicholas?”

He backed away, hands out and pushing toward her. “I am not and that is the truth.” He tugged her into a gigantic room with two sets of exquisite bay windows—obviously this was the master suite. “You see that trailer down there?”

Brenna nodded, ignoring the panoramic view of the Big Fleur Bayou and the bay out beyond for now. “Nice, but not quite as big as the house.”

“That is my home,” he said. “I renovate and design houses. But I prefer spending most of my time in my trailer or in a small hacienda on my parents’ property in San Antonio. So I need you to understand—this is not my house. I have no desire to live here. I’m only here to prepare this estate for the new owner and then I’ll move on to my next project.”

She believed him. Nicholas didn’t want to settle down. She got the message loud and clear. So she put aside her shock and awe and disappointment, then tried to throw him off by asking about the real owner. “Got it. You like to travel light and linger not so much. So back to the man who hired you. When will he arrive?”

He looked relieved and a bit shocked himself. “In the spring of next year. So we need to get busy.”

He motioned to her with an impatient jabbing of his fingers in the air. Brenna turned away from the view outside to the reality of the man by her side. “Okay, so you’re not the mysterious owner and you’re not teasing me or trying to pull one over on me. I get that. So show me the rest of the house and give me the interior designer’s phone number. I’ll have to get with her and make sure I have a clear understanding of what she has planned.”

He seemed to relax. Like a big cat, he’d almost pounced on her for being so nosy. But he’d pulled back, slinking away before he revealed anything too personal. “The designer knows she is to work with you in considering the art. Whatever you decide, she will work around it. Or make it work, per my instructions.”

He once again reminded her of his authority.

But Brenna was known for always having the last word. “And just so we’re clear, I’m only curious about the owner because I need to match the art to the person who will live here. But I have to say, Nick, you are every bit as mysterious as he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned-again. I’m sorry if I overstepped in being nosy. It’s one of my flaws.”

His dark eyebrows lifted. “Just one? You mean you have more?”

She saw that trace of a smile trying to pull at his lips. Saw that and so much that he didn’t want her to see.

He didn’t want to talk about the man who had bought Fleur House. But he especially didn’t want to talk about himself, either. Which only made Brenna more curious.

* * *

Two hours later, Brenna waved goodbye to Nick and headed straight into town to her sister Alma’s café. She needed comfort food and she needed some girl talk with Alma’s right-hand woman and newly promoted manager, Winnie. And just to be sure, she called Callie, too. “I need to rant. Preferably over pie and coffee.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear all the details,” Callie said. “I’ll put Thelma at the front register and I’ll be right over.”

Brenna was about to disconnect but then she remembered. “Oh, Callie, Nick said he wants you to be in charge of all the landscaping once the house is done.”

“Really?” Her sister squealed so loud Brenna had to hold her cell phone away. “I wanted to offer, but I chickened out and never applied. I dreamed about doing that, but I can’t believe he actually asked for me. You didn’t force him, did you?”

Brenna got an image of trying to force Nick Santiago into doing anything. Impossible. “Oh, no. He’s not the kind to bend to the whims of a woman. He asked for you outright.”

A brief memory of Nick telling her to make the mural beautiful fluttered through her mind. Okay, maybe he did bend to the whims of a woman every now and then.

Callie chatted on, excitement in every word. “Okay. I won’t say anything until he brings it up. But I’ll start playing with some garden designs. I know the layout of that acreage by heart, anyway.”

“Yes, you’ve always wanted to live there and you’ve dreamed of cultivating that big garden. I know, I know. And after seeing the house, I can understand why. That’s your thing, sis, not mine. I just get to help decorate the place.”

She said goodbye, then again thought back over her sometimes-good, sometimes-bad conversation with Nick.

“Make it beautiful for me.”

She’d seen the dare in his eyes when he’d said that. And she’d heard the gentleness in his request. Nick might not be the kind she could sweet-talk or force, but he could be the kind who would do something sweet and special simply because it pleased him. And he had done it for her, too, she sensed. But why? The man certainly presented a paradox. Too strange and spine-tingling for her to figure out right now, but too mysterious and intriguing for her to let go just yet.

“I’ll need to read up on how to restore a mural,” she said to get her mind off Nick and his “make it beautiful for me” lips. Then she pulled into a parking space across from the Fleur Café and hurried in to spill everything to Winnie and Callie.

* * *

Nick stood in the empty drawing room of Fleur House and sniffed the last of the sweet notes of Brenna’s floral perfume. The smell of wisteria and jasmine hung in the air like a wedding veil, light and full of mystery.

And she thought he was the mysterious one.

He felt as empty as this big house.

Her laughter had echoed out over the quiet, still rooms like a rogue wind invading a hot house. Brenna seemed all buttoned-up and professional, but Nick thought there might be a free spirit hidden underneath that sensible facade. Did he dare encourage that side of her?

No, because he’d practically shouted at her to back off on trying to figure out what made him tick. He didn’t have the right to encourage her in any aspect. He couldn’t allow himself to get close to her, either. No time for that. He had to get this house in order and move on.

And where are you going?

The voice shouted into the silence of the afternoon and moved through the last of the sun’s rays as he did one more walk-through of the house.

Tomorrow, the noise level would change and he wouldn’t have to be alone with his silence. He’d be surrounded once again by hammers and drills and nail guns and saws. He’d hear the familiar sounds of workmen arguing and measuring, the noise of readjusting and tearing down. Demolition and restoration always signaled a change in the air, a forward movement of action. These were the sounds that soothed him. Not the laughter of a woman who seemed to be such a beautifully confusing contradiction. He’d smell the scent of sawdust and paint thinner, the scent of new paint and new wood, not the scent of wisteria and jasmine.

Tomorrow, he’d be in the thick of things again and then he could lose himself in his work, day and night.

Except for the times he’d lose himself in watching Brenna Blanchard making everything she touched beautiful.

He strolled toward the old mural that he’d saved after her last-minute plea. The genteel vista spoke of times gone by, times with smiling people walking along the bayou. The women wore colorful colliding frocks and the men looked dapper and distinguished in their waistcoats and top hats.

“Make it beautiful for me, Brenna,” he said out loud, the echo of his solitude shouting back at him.

And he knew, she’d already made everything beautiful.

Too beautiful.

* * *

“He said that?” Winnie grabbed her coffee and took a long swig, her pecan-brown eyes going wide.

“He said exactly that,” Brenna replied, her fork of bread pudding somewhere between her plate and her mouth. “And it was the way he said it, as if he’d never seen anything beautiful before.”

“Must be some mural on that wall,” Callie retorted through a mouthful of the creamy pudding. She finished chewing and let out a sigh. “It’s so romantic.”

“He is not romantic,” Brenna said. “Didn’t you hear the part about him living in a trailer and always being on the move? The man might as well wear a sign that says ‘Don’t bother. I ain’t buying any.’”

“Or maybe the man protests too much,” Winnie replied with her usual sweet smile. “And that in itself is highly romantic.”

“He’s not romantic,” Brenna repeated, trying to convince herself. She couldn’t do it, so she gave up. The man was like a walking Heathcliff—shuttered, disengaged, disturbing...and the total package, the kind of package a woman couldn’t help but tear open. She wanted to dive right in and find the treasure. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t do that.

“I mean, the house is so romantic,” Callie said with another sigh, completely ignoring Brenna’s denial. “I hope I get to sneak in with you and see it all gussied up. I’ve always—”

“Wanted to live there,” Brenna finished. “We all know that.” She shrugged and shot her sister an indulging smile. “At least the new owner is single. He’s a widower. You might have a chance.”

“Oh, how tragic...and romantic,” Callie said on another sigh. “At least we can understand how the man must feel. But why buy such a big house if he’s all alone?” Her expression turned dreamy. “I know. He wants to wander around from room to room, lamenting his lost love. Tragic and poignant.”

Brenna looked at her sister. “Have you ever considered writing a romance novel?”

Winnie brought some clarity to the situation. “Maybe he bought the house for his new bride.”

Callie sat up straight, ignoring Brenna’s question and Winnie’s speculation. “I need to lose about ten pounds and do something about my sallow, washed-out skin and what about these laugh lines? What can I do about that?” She pushed at her long curly golden hair. “And maybe a haircut.”

“No,” both Winnie and Brenna said.

“Don’t cut your hair,” Brenna told her sister. “It took you a while to get it long again.”

Callie nodded, quiet now. “You’re right. I do have good hair in spite of losing it all...before. And besides, what am I thinking? Winnie might be right. He’s probably found a new wife already. Of course, I don’t want to fool with another man. Too much trouble. I might be in remission, but I’m still too tired to tackle a relationship.”

“Amen,” Brenna said. “I don’t mind you stepping out, but not me. So I had a little talk with myself on the way over here. I will remain professional and businesslike. I won’t pry into Nick’s life at all.”

“Yeah, right,” her sister said. Then she leaned close. “Might want to test that theory. Nick just walked in the door and he’s headed straight for our table.”

Brenna gasped. “Why is it that all the men in our life always wind up in this café? Remember how Julien hounded Alma every day, over pie and petulance?”

Winnie giggled. “And suga’, we sure got both.”

Callie looked up with mock-surprise on her face. “Nick Santiago. How in the world are you?”

* * *

“Hello, ladies.” Nick couldn’t help the grin that smeared the sternness off his face. “As if you don’t already know that I’m demanding, surly and hard to work with. I’m sure your pretty sister has filled you in on all my bad qualities.”

Callie didn’t take the bait. “Actually, I’ve been the one filling her in—on what a nice man you can be. I’ve sent enough flowers with your signature on them to know.”

Nick really liked the Blanchard sisters, especially their somewhat sweet naïveté. “Sending flowers does not complete my résumé, Callie.” He gave Brenna a direct stare.

Callie didn’t let that stop her. “No, but I’m pretty good with getting it right with my regulars. You’re the real deal, Nick.”

Brenna cleared her throat. “This little mutual admiration society is endearing, but I have to get going. My boss is demanding.” She shot Nick a daring smile. “Just passing through or did you need to speak to me?”

Nick wanted to keep sparring but duty called. “Actually, I wanted to see both you and Callie. And Winnie, too, for that matter.”

Winnie slapped the table. “The highlight of my day, for true.”

Brenna gave her sister a covert glance. “Have you changed your mind about hiring both of us?”

“No,” Nick said, accepting the glass of water Winnie offered him. “I’m calling an impromptu meeting later this week. Kind of a town hall thing. I’ve had so many questions about what’s happening with Fleur House, I thought I’d answer all of them in one fell swoop.”

“Smart,” Callie said. “What day and time?”

“Six-thirty Thursday, inside the church fellowship hall.” He turned to Brenna. “And I want you there to take a few notes on ideas the people of Fleur might have about the house and gardens. We have a gem of a home right here in Fleur and my client wants to make sure everyone here is comfortable with what will probably become a tourist attraction. He hopes to open both the house and the gardens for tours at certain times when he’s traveling on business.”

“I’ll be there,” Brenna replied, touched that both Nick and he-who-she-couldn’t-mention were willing to do this for the town.

Callie stood up. “Nick, you have to tell us about this man.”

Nick shook his head. “I can’t do that. My contract has a very precise confidentiality clause.”

“Which we will honor,” Brenna replied, sending her sister a warning look.

“Oh, all right.” Callie made a face. “Want a bowl of bread pudding, Nick?”

Nick glanced at Brenna. “I shouldn’t—”

“Oh, live a little, boss,” Brenna said. “It might make you sweeter.”

He laughed at that. “I’ll have some, then. With some of that strong coffee Fleur seems to be famous for.”

Callie brought him his pudding and coffee. “I have to get back to work. I’ll see y’all later.”

He watched as Brenna gathered her things, obviously in a hurry to get away from him. “What is this? I have to eat all alone?”

She stopped, glanced around. “I see a lot of people in here.”

“I don’t know them yet.”

“You don’t know me yet, either,” she said. “I’ll be at your meeting and I’ll take copious notes, but right now I want to research some art for the house. I want to get this right as much as you do, believe it or not.”

“I believe you,” he said, wishing she’d stay while he willed her to go. “Go, get to work. I am paying you a lot of money, after all.”

“Yes, sir.”

He watched her walk away, that elusive fragrance following her. Then he looked up to find Winnie smiling down at him.

“I’m still here,” she said with a grin.

Nick laughed at that because he was pretty sure Winnie was married and had four children. “Sit down and keep me company, then. And while you’re at it, maybe you can tell me why I find that woman so fascinating.”

Chapter Five

Brenna sat watching the people of Fleur as they filed into the bright church hall one by one. Of course, Winnie had sent cookies to go with the urn of coffee. Refreshments were always a requirement here in this big, loud room. The Fleur Café, right across the street, was happy to provide them.

Good thing she brought extra. Tonight the main attraction had drawn a record crowd. Whenever a stranger came to town and wanted a meeting, people came to listen. Especially people who were unemployed or late with last month’s mortgage. Especially people who already had two and sometimes three jobs but could never rest because their families needed food and shelter. Not that Nick came bearing jobs or solutions, but he was here on a positive note. He was taking something they all treasured and admired and making it beautiful again.

A restoration.

Brenna let that thought rush through her like sparkling water as she scanned the crowd. Nick wasn’t here yet. Why was she so nervous, so hopeful for this man? What had he done to her to make her see beneath that facade of cool and calm he cloaked around himself?

“Make it beautiful for me.”

His words echoed over the boisterous gathering, haunting her with a sweet intensity.

Did Nick create and re-create lovely aesthetic things because he needed to make the world more beautiful? For someone he loved? Or maybe for someone he’d lost? Was that why he traveled so light and lingered only as long as required? She thought about the young girl in the portrait she’d seen on the internet. What did Jessica mean to him? Was she a friend? Or someone he’d loved and lost?

Dear Lord, help me to understand this man. Help me to restore his soul to You.

The plea of that prayer poured over her as people gathered for the meeting. And somehow, Brenna knew that would be the echo she’d hear in her head each time she was around Nick Santiago.

For now, she smiled and waved to the full house. She spotted Julien’s younger brother, Pierre, along with his girlfriend, Mollie. They were so cute together. Since Julien and Alma had gotten back together, the Blanchard family had embraced Julien’s family, welcoming his mother and his brother as their own. Her father came through the door, Mrs. LeBlanc walking with him. It was funny how several of the widows in the church seemed to be always after her daddy. But Julien’s mother was just a friend. She had made it clear after her husband died almost two years ago she would never fall in love again.

Maybe Nick had made that same pledge, Brenna thought as she surveyed the crowd.

Callie came in and waved, then slid into a seat up front.

Brenna walked over to her sister and dropped her briefcase on the floor. “He’s not here yet.”

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Callie said. “Hey, I got a call from Alma. They are having so much fun. The ocean, the beach, the shops, the honeymoon. She might not ever come home from Florida.”

“She’s in love,” Brenna said, glad for her sister. “Did you tell her about Fleur House?”

Callie giggled. “Yes, I told her all about your new love interest Nick Santiago, which is what you’re really asking.”

“I am not. What did she say?”

“She said good for you. On the job...and the man.”

“She’s in love. She can be optimistic.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We, on the other hand, are more cynical. So we have to be cautious.”

Brenna nodded at that, as sad as it sounded. But when she turned and saw Nick strolling in as if he owned the place, his suit tailored and fitted, his hair combed and shimmering, she wanted to throw caution to the wind. Her heart actually did a backward flip.

Frances LaBorde, a staunch church lady and one to always notice everything going on around here, leaned up and touched Brenna on the arm. “He’s mighty perty, ain’t he?” She winked at Brenna, then settled back with a look of delight on her puffy cheeks.

“Yes, he sure is,” Callie whispered to Brenna. “If you don’t go for him, I just might have to.”

“Go ahead,” Brenna said, inhaling a deep breath. “Ours is a working relationship.” She ignored the little green monsters of jealousy laughing in her head.

“Yeah, and we all believe that,” Callie retorted. “I was just teasing about my going after him. But the way he looks at you, I think you have a definite shot.”

* * *

Nick surveyed the crowd. The tough crowd. He hadn’t expected this many people to show up. But this was a small town with a big grapevine. No need for online networking here. This network moved through clotheslines and crab traps and church prayer chains.

He was a stranger in a strange land.

Then he looked up and saw Brenna sitting there on the front row, prim and proper and prepared, wearing a pretty spring dress and cute little blue sweater. She gave him an encouraging, questioning smile.

Showtime.

“Hello, everyone,” he said in a loud calm voice.

The whispers died down as people settled into their seats.

Nick took a breath. “I’m Nick Santiago. I’ve been here for a while, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to talk to very many of you. I’m supervising the renovation of the Dubois mansion, locally known as Fleur House.”

Applause followed that introduction. Nick grinned at that.

“I wanted to let you know what this means for your community.”

“Yeah, what does it mean?” came a shout from the back.

“Jobs?” someone else asked.

The conversations started up again, a mixture of English and Cajun-French that turned into chaos. Nick tried raising his hand, but they were off and running, taking his initial explanations and creating little detours that rippled like a swamp wake.