Page 9 of Sweet Somethings

It was suddenly very quiet overhead. He told himself to leave it alone, but as the minutes ticked by, he knew that wasn't going to happen. He pulled off his work gloves and headed up the stairs.

He found her sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the empty master bedroom, her arms wrapped around her waist. She didn't turn her head when he entered the room and judging by the pallor of her skin and the distant look in her eyes, she was somewhere far, far away. He knew the look of trauma, of a deep, agonizing pain. He'd seen it in his own eyes and the eyes of friends who'd lost people they loved.

"Juliette?" he asked quietly, not wanting to shock her too quickly.

She started as he came around in front of her. He squatted down. "You okay?"

Her beautiful blue eyes were wide and confused. "I don't know why this house bothers me so much…it shouldn't. Logically, I know it's not mine. I even know that owning it won't change anything, not really. But I can't seem to get my emotions in line with my brain."

He had a feeling she operated only on emotion, which was something he never did, or at least he hadn't done in a very long time.

"My mother had always wanted to go to Italy," she told him. "My dad surprised her with the trip. She didn't know until that day when my aunt showed up, and my dad handed her the airline tickets and told her she had one hour to pack her bags. It was so romantic. It was going to be the trip of a lifetime." She drew in a breath and let it out. "They started in Milan and worked their way south through Venice, Florence, Rome and then down to Salerno, where they got on a boat for a luxury cruise. Only, the boat wasn't that luxurious, and the operators had been cutting corners, and mechanical problems led to a fire, and…" Her voice trailed away. "It went down."

His gut churned. "I'm very sorry."

"They were two days away from coming home. There were no good-byes. No chance to say I love you. I don't even remember the last thing I said to either one of them. I know we were on the phone together the night before the cruise. They were telling me about what they'd seen that day. I'm pretty sure they asked how school was going, and I probably rambled on about nothing. I just don't know what it was."

The guilt in her eyes resonated within him. "It doesn't matter if you didn't say I love you or I miss you; they knew. It sounds like you had a happy family life."

"We did. It was great. They were the best parents in the world. But I didn't have them long enough."

"No, you didn't," he agreed.

"I wanted to stay here—in this town, in this house—but my aunt lived in New York, and that's where her job was, and that's where she needed to be. I had to move into a completely different world. Her one-bedroom apartment was tiny. We lived there for almost three years. I slept on a pull-out couch in the living room. Then she got married, and her husband bought us a condo. He was nice to me, but I wasn't very nice to him. It was another change in my life that I didn't want. I kept thinking one day I would have control over my life. I would call the shots. It's taken a long time, but I'm pretty close to being there. I have my own business. I just need—this house."

He could hear the desperation in her voice, but he doubted that the house could ever give her what she really needed. He didn’t think she'd appreciate hearing that, so instead, he said, "When did you come back to Fairhope?"

"Five months ago. I won a national baking contest, and the prize was $30,000."

"Impressive."

"I had considered using the money to make a downpayment on this house, but it had recently been sold, and I was told the buyer wasn't interested in selling yet. Plus $30,000 wasn't going to be enough, not if I wanted to open the bakery, too. So I had to choose. I could only afford one dream."

"You're lucky you could afford even that."

She stared back at him. "You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm dumping all this on you. I don't usually go on and on like this with a perfect stranger."

He'd actually enjoyed it, more than he cared to admit. It had been some time since he'd had a long conversation with anyone. "It's not a problem. But…" He stood up.

"You need me to leave. I know." She got to her feet. "Thanks for letting me look around."

"You can come back if you feel the need," he said, then immediately kicked himself for making that offer. He didn't want her coming back here for any reason. She'd already distracted him and cost him an hour of work. And while he might be working for his grandfather, the old man was as hard-assed as any Marine he'd worked under.

Juliette brushed the dust off the back of her jeans, drawing his gaze to her very shapely rear-end. Which he really did not need to be looking at. He turned and headed toward the door, leading the way down the stairs.

"So where did you come back from, Roman?" she asked as he reached the last step.

He should have known the questions were coming. She was too talkative to just leave without saying anything else.

"I'm on leave from the Marine Corps, so you could say I'm coming back from all over."

"I don't remember you from when I lived here before."

"I think I'm older than you by a few years. I'm thirty-one."

"I'm twenty-seven—so a four-year difference."

"I didn't show up here until I was fifteen, which would have made you eleven. I guess our paths could have crossed, but we wouldn't have been in the same school at the same time."

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