All He Ever Needed Page 8

  “I’ll take a hash and cheddar omelet with home fries, skip the toast, and some company.”

  He was looking her in the eye when he said it, and she hoped what she was feeling on the inside couldn’t be seen on the outside, because it could be summed up in three words. I want him.

  “It’s pretty quiet right now,” she said. “If you’re looking for company, you’ll have to make do with me.”

  “There’s nothing ‘making do’ about you, Paige Sullivan.”

  Even as the tingling and zinging and other-ing words intensified, she laughed. “That was pretty slick. You’re even smoother than the stories give you credit for.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Nope. Sorry,” she lied. “Let me go put your order in.”

  Since Carl had disappeared from the window, Paige had an excuse to slip out back for a few seconds. Mitch Kowalski was hell on her nerves. And not the nerves that got rattled when children ran amok in her diner while their parents sat and drank coffee. He was hell on the nerves that were connected to body parts that had been severely neglected for the past two years.

  She didn’t hide long though, because, after Carl took the slip from her, he gave her a funny look. “You feeling okay? You’re a little flushed.”

  Great. “I’m okay. It’s a little warm in here.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  She shook her head and went back through the swinging door. Mitch was drinking his coffee, but it looked a lot like he’d been watching the door for her return. Even though there were some newspapers piled near him, he was ignoring them and, since he’d said he was looking for company, she didn’t really have a choice but to visit with him.

  After topping off his coffee, she poured herself an iced tea and leaned her hip against the center island. She could have sat on one of the many empty stools, but she either had to sit far enough away it would seem rude if he was looking for conversation, or close enough so those nerves might start getting ideas again.

  “After Ava comes in later,” he said, “you want to go for a ride with me?”

  Yes. Yes, she did. “I have plans after work, but thanks anyway.”

  “It would be fun. We could go over by the lake. See where we end up.”

  It was the seeing where they’d end up that was the problem, because there was a pretty good chance if she was alone with Mitch, she’d end up in his arms. Or his bed. “Maybe another time.”

  Rather than taking the hint, he leaned forward and grinned. “Come on. I’ve even got a helmet that would fit you.”

  “Helmet?”

  “For the bike. I’m talking about taking a ride around the lake on the bike, not in the truck.”

  Oh, that’s just what she needed after two-plus years of self-imposed celibacy—a hot guy between her legs and a vibrator on wheels under her. “I…can’t.”

  He leaned back again, wrapping his hands around his coffee mug, but he didn’t look rejected. Curious, maybe. “Why don’t you date, Paige?”

  “Sorry, but details about my personal life aren’t on the menu.”

  “I don’t get it. You’re beautiful. You’re obviously smart and driven, since you not only brought this place back to life, but you made it better than it ever was.”

  The man knew how to flatter a woman, that was for sure. “Thank you.”

  “You seem to be in a great place in life. Why aren’t you looking for a man to share it with?”

  “Men are a luxury, not a necessity.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, scowling as if the concept was totally foreign to him. Which it probably was.

  She moved away from the island and straightened the salt and pepper shakers just to give her hands something to do. “It means I don’t need a man in my life. And I have that written on a sticky note taped to my fridge so I don’t forget it.”

  “But you want a man, right?”

  She pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Not especially.”

  “Who opens jars for you?”

  “I have a little gadget that does that.”

  “But…” He grinned. “What about sex?”

  “I have a little gadget that does that, too.”

  He looked stunned for a few seconds, and then a naughty gleam lit up his blue eyes, and she wondered how the hell she’d gotten herself into this conversation. She was supposed to be letting him know she wasn’t interested—even if it wasn’t precisely true—and somehow she’d ended up talking to him about sex toys?

  “I’ve been told,” he said, “that little gadgets aren’t a good substitute for the real thing.”

  They weren’t, actually, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Maybe whoever told you that wasn’t using the right gadgets.”

  “Or maybe she was still basking in the glow of the real thing.”

  “Basking in the glow?” Gadgets didn’t cause basking. Or glowing. “Tell me you didn’t just say that.”

  “Oh, there’s a glow. And basking. Trust me.”

  Trusting him was the last thing she’d be stupid enough to do. “I guess you’d know, considering the very extensive experience you have.”

  Rather than looking insulted, Mitch leaned back in the seat and smiled. “You’ve been listening to too many stories, I think.”

  “It’s impossible to spend any time with the women in this town and not hear the stories.”

  His smiled dimmed a little. “And they wonder why I don’t come home more often.”

  “You don’t like it here?”

  “It’s a little claustrophobic. I don’t mind visiting, but I’d never stay. Even six weeks of this place will be too much.”

  And she loved it enough to make it her home. It was enough to bolster her resistance to his charm. “You must not hate it, though. You named your company after the lodge.”

  “No, I don’t hate Whitford.” He blew out a breath. “It’s just that once they pin a label on you here, you wear the label forever. When you walk into a place here, they see a beautiful woman who’s made a success out of her business. When I walk into a place, they don’t see a grown man who’s made a success out of his business. They see every story they’ve ever heard about me doing something wrong, even though I’ve changed.”

  “So you’re not a charming playboy who romances the ladies and leaves them smiling as he rides off into the sunset anymore?”

  “Okay, so that I’m trying to be, but you won’t let me.” Oh, he was good. “You know, Paige. I’m not looking to be a necessity here. Just a temporary luxury.”

  “I’m not a woman who needs luxury in her life.”

  “I bet I can change your mind.”

  She looked him in the eye. “I bet you can’t.”

  “I can be persuasive.”

  “Really? Because it seems to me you’ve never had to work too hard at persuading a woman you’re a good bet.”

  “I have a feeling you’re worth the effort.”

  The man knew all the right buttons to push. “You’re welcome to try.”

  She knew as soon as the words left her mouth they were the wrong ones to say. He nodded, his gaze hot and promising all sorts of naughty things she didn’t want to think about but would no doubt dream about. “I intend to.”

  Chapter Seven

  It was almost seven by the time Ryan’s black, three-quarter-ton truck with Kowalski Custom Homes logos printed down the sides pulled up to the lodge the following night, and Mitch walked out of the barn he’d been sorting through to meet him. His brother could be a pain in the ass, but he hadn’t seen him since they’d all gotten together to celebrate Sean getting out of the army.

  They started to shake hands, but it turned into a quick hug. “Glad you could come. Hope you can still swing a hammer now that you’re all yuppied up.”

  Ryan looked down at his clothes—khakis and a navy polo shirt bearing a smaller version of the logo on the truck—and frowned. “I’m not a damn yuppie.”

  “You look like
one. All bosslike.”

  “I am the boss. But I can still swing my own hammer.” Ryan looked past him at the lodge. “From the looks of things, I’m going to need to.”

  “Told you it was getting rough.”

  “You weren’t lying. Right now I’m starving.”

  “We can drive down to the diner and grab a burger or something.”

  Ryan scowled. “No shepherd’s pie?”

  “Rosie’s…on strike, I guess you could say.”

  “What do you mean she’s on strike?”

  “We hired Andy Miller to do some odd jobs around the place.”

  “Oh.” Ryan shook his head. “So no banana bread, either?”

  “Nope.”

  “This place is really going to shit.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Where’s Josh?”

  “He wanted to get cleaned up. Takes the poor sucker a half hour to get up and down the stairs, so he might be a while, but we can head into town when he’s done.”

  Ryan walked toward the steps, giving them a good looking over. “I heard the woman that runs the old diner now is pretty hot.”

  “Yup.” His younger brother liked to push his buttons, and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of getting territorial. Or asking him how he knew about Paige.

  “Also heard you struck out.”

  So he’d been talking to Josh. “A swing and a miss maybe, but I’m still at bat.”

  Apparently finished inspecting the stairs, Ryan turned to face him and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be around a bit. Maybe I’ll get to know her and see if she’ll let me steal a few bases.”

  “You take so much as one step toward first base with Paige Sullivan and I’ll break every bone in your body. And I’ll mess up your pretty yuppie clothes while I’m doing it.”

  Ryan just laughed at him. “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?”

  “Forget it. I’m going to go rummage around the kitchen.”

  “Like I said, we can head down to the diner and—”

  “I don’t want to go into town. I’m tired and I’ve had enough of sitting in a truck. I’ll just make some sandwiches or something.”

  Ryan made it as far as the front hallway before Rose came flying down the stairs. Mitch watched her hug his younger brother as though he’d been away at sea rather than in Massachusetts, growing more aggravated by the second.

  Of course Rose fussed over Ryan. He hadn’t committed the unforgivable sin of offering a good man some honest work. And Mitch didn’t want Ryan anywhere near Paige. He knew Ryan had only been screwing with him, but his younger brother wasn’t bad looking, he was a nice guy and—unlike the rest of them—he was as steady and solid as a slab of granite. What if Paige was willing to break her no-dating rule for him?

  It would be embarrassing, for one thing. Mitch would never live it down. And Ryan wouldn’t just romance Paige and move on. He wasn’t wired that way. Mitch loved women in the same way he loved cheeseburgers and the Die Hard movies and a good football game. Ryan loved in a forever and ever, amen kind of way, and Mitch had never known him to be casual about a woman.

  “I made you shepherd’s pie,” Mitch heard Rose tell Ryan, and he followed them toward the kitchen.

  “Mitch said you didn’t.”

  “Mitch doesn’t know everything. Of course I made you shepherd’s pie. And there’s banana bread, too.”

  “I told you I smelled banana bread and you said it was an air freshener,” Mitch said, trying not to sound too pouty.

  “I lied,” she said, opening the oven door to show a huge glass casserole dish of shepherd’s pie.

  “Is that all for Ryan, or do we get some, too?”

  “Of course you can have some,” she snapped. “I’m not twelve.”

  Biting down on the variety of smart-ass responses that popped into his head, he started setting the table while Rosie continued to fuss over the golden boy. He was almost done when Josh showed up and rescued Ryan from the maternal smothering. More back slapping and jokes ensued, but Mitch knew there were some tough conversations in their future.

  They only made it halfway through the first helping of shepherd’s pie before Ryan turned serious. “Josh, why didn’t you tell us things were getting tough up here?”

  “Why didn’t you ask?”

  Mitch winced. Under the belligerent tone was a hard truth. They hadn’t asked. They’d lived their lives and run their businesses and just assumed Josh was holding down the fort. “We should have. And we should have come back more often and we didn’t, but we’re here now and—”

  “Temporarily.”

  “We’re here now and we’ll work together to get the place back on track.”

  Josh snorted. “You’ve got some magic fix for the economy and the gas prices? Because that’s what it’s going to take.”

  “We’re going to prioritize. Sink some time and money into what needs to be fixed first and slap some bandages on the rest. I was thinking I could ask Chelle, the woman who handles the website for Northern Star Demolition, about revamping the lodge’s site. Maybe boost it on the search engines and build a Facebook page. Get the name out there a little more.”

  Ryan was nodding. “People don’t pick up pamphlets at restaurants or rest stops anymore. They pull up the information on their freakin’ phones.”

  Mitch waited to see if Josh would contribute, but he was busy stuffing shepherd’s pie into his mouth. Instead of looking encouraged, their youngest brother looked even more sullen. “We’re going to step up, Josh.”

  All that got him was a shrug, and Mitch took a big bite of mashed potatoes, hamburger and corn to keep from pushing at Josh. It wouldn’t get him anywhere, and he didn’t want to escalate dinner conversation into a shouting match when Rosie had gone to so much trouble to welcome Ryan home with a nice supper.

  Tomorrow they’d start getting truly hands-on, and Josh would come around when he saw that his brothers truly intended to pull some of the weight for a while.

  “Are you seeing anybody?” Rosie asked Ryan in an obvious bid to change the subject.

  “Nope. I heard the woman that bought the diner is pretty hot, though.”

  Mitch glared at him across the table, but he didn’t say anything because nothing he wanted to say could be said in front of Rosie.

  “Stop pushing your brother’s buttons,” she chided Ryan, who just grinned at him.

  He could grin all he wanted, but he wasn’t touching Paige. Paige was his. Maybe not quite yet and maybe not for very long, but it was enough to make her off-limits to his brother. But since she didn’t know that, the best thing to do was keep Ryan busy at the lodge until he went back to Massachusetts.

  Then he’d start working a little harder on the whole Paige being his thing.

  * * *

  “Just write down ‘kerosene and a match’ and call it good.”

  Mitch tossed the clipboard onto the tailgate of Ryan’s truck. “We’re supposed to be making a list of supplies to fix the place up.”

  “Like I said—kerosene and a match.”

  “You know what?” They were only a little more than halfway through the day, but he’d already had about enough of Ryan’s shit. “Go home.”

  He started to walk away, but Ryan grabbed his elbow and would have spun him around, except Mitch yanked his arm free. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to help. Fine. Go home.”

  “I’m here and we’re supposed to be making a supply list.”

  Mitch put his hands in his pocket to keep from swinging on his brother. “Kerosene and a match? You think that helps?”

  Ryan blew out a breath and shook his head. “Sorry. I’m just in a shitty mood today.”

  It wasn’t just today, though Mitch decided against saying so. Ryan tended to be in a shitty mood whenever he was forced to visit Whitford, and Mitch was pretty sure he knew why. Back when they were in col
lege, something had happened between Ryan and Lauren Carpenter—Dozer’s daughter—that had changed the way Ryan felt about coming home to Whitford. And he apparently hadn’t gotten over whatever it was yet.

  He almost asked his brother about it, which he’d never done before, but Andy Miller came around the corner of the lodge, with Josh not far behind him. Probably for the best, since it wasn’t his business and it probably wasn’t a good time to poke at his brother’s sore spots. Not that it ever was, but especially not when the last time he’d seen all three of them in as foul a mood was the day they’d talked Liz into taking a stupid risk on the toboggan. After Rosie got her inside with a bag of frozen peas combating the egg on her forehead, she’d made the boys shovel every bit of snow out of the yard—not the driveway, but the actual backyard. It had taken the four of them more than three hours, and they’d been cranky as hell. Right now, they were worse.

  “When you start breaking it down, it’s not that bad,” Andy said, seemingly oblivious to the tension between the brothers. “A lot of small projects that take more time than money, with only a couple bigger ones.”

  “How big?” Mitch asked.

  Andy shrugged. “With the way the boards have weathered and are tweaking, I’d recommend replacing the porch rather than piecemealing repairs, and then scraping and painting the whole thing. And it’s well past time to upgrade the windows and doors to something more efficient.”

  “I got an estimate on replacing the windows with low-E glass,” Josh said, “but, after I was through shitting bricks, I tossed it.”

  “I’ll do the windows,” Ryan told them. “Not right now, but before late fall hits. For now, we should fix the steps and focus on the smaller things and, when I free up a crew, we’ll come up and replace the windows, doors and the porch.”

  “A crew?” Josh looked skeptical.

  “Couple of the younger guys. Maybe they’ll learn something, and I pay them less than the experienced men.”

  “What are you calling smaller projects?” Mitch asked Andy.

  “Gotta mix of a little bit of everything. The siding’s not bad but, if Ryan’s going to pop in replacement windows—” he paused and looked at Ryan, who nodded “—then we won’t replace the window trim, so it should all be scraped and painted. The stairs, as he said. Some landscaping stuff—some trees still need limbing and shit like that. The barn floor’s starting to sag pretty good, and storing the sleds and the four-wheelers in there’s a lot of weight. Most of the planks can be flipped and reused, but we need to get down there and reblock it. Some other stuff. Like I said, more elbow grease and time than money.”