Page 8 of Sweet Somethings

"Why would it be bad news that you're back?"

He shrugged. "Just a guess."

His vagueness intrigued her, but he didn't seem interested in saying anything more. He definitely wasn't a man of many words.

"Sorry I interrupted your work," she said. "Come by the bakery sometime, and I'll give you a pastry—on the house." She hesitated, knowing she should go, but she hadn't been in her old home since her aunt had sold it. "Before I leave, do you think I could look around a little? I haven't been inside since I was twelve. I walk by the place almost every day; I even looked in the windows once, but there was no one living here to ask if I could come in for a minute."

"Sure. Go for it."

"Really?"

"Just watch your step."

"Thanks." She moved toward the stairs, knowing exactly where she wanted to go first—her old bedroom.

* * *

There were four rooms on the second floor: the master bedroom, a hall bathroom, and then two bedrooms, with her room tucked away under the eaves of the sloping roof.

She'd always liked the feeling that she had her own little hideaway. She wondered if Roman's grandfather planned on lifting the roof, making the room bigger, with a ceiling you didn't have to duck under on your way to the closet.

Probably.

It would add value to the house. But it would also destroy the cozy feeling of safety, warmth, happiness.

She stepped across the threshold, then paused. There wasn't any furniture in the room now, but in her head she could see the twin bed she'd slept in, the white dresser and matching desk, the shelves filled with books, the big pillows and stuffed animals in what she'd called her reading corner, which was just under the window and the recipient of a bright slash of sun every afternoon when she got home from school.

A wave of sad nostalgia for a life she could vividly remember ran through her, but it was a life she had left fifteen years ago. The last time she'd been in this room she'd been twelve. Now she was twenty-seven. She'd lived more than half of her life somewhere else.

It was probably time to break the tie between her past and her present and move on to the future. But she still didn't feel ready.

She walked over to the window and looked out at the backyard. Weeds had overrun what had once been her mother's garden. Landscaping was no doubt part of the remodel plans, which would bring more changes.

If she hadn't put the cash she'd won from a baking contest into opening her bakery business, she would have been closer to a downpayment, but having to decide between the old house and a new business, she'd chosen the new business, thinking she'd have time to get the house later, and in the meantime she had to live.

Well, it wasn't over yet.She needed to talk to Roman's grandfather and find out what his plans were—for both the remodel and the sale of the house. Maybe she could reason with him. Hopefully, he'd be a little more talkative than his grandson.

She had to admit that Roman Prescott looked even better in the daylight than he had in the early morning shadows. But he had all kinds of walls up. She didn't know where the detachment came from, but he was clearly not interested in becoming friends. She'd obviously misread the interest she'd seen in his eyes earlier.

That was just as well. She had enough on her plate without adding a man into the mix.

She left her old bedroom and walked down the hall, pausing at the door to what had once been her mother's sewing room. There was a double bed in the room now with a sleeping bag tossed over the mattress. A half-filled suitcase was open on a chair. A guitar was propped up against the wall.

Someone was living here—Roman? It had to be him. The male T-shirt tossed on the bed made her nerves tingle. She could almost imagine Roman stripping it off what had to be a sexy, ripped body.

She was getting as bad as Sara… Clearing her throat, she quickly left the room and hastened down the hall, pausing at one more door. The master bedroom had once been her parents' room. Could she go in?

Her heart started to beat faster. Her mom and dad hadn't been in that room in more than a decade. There was nothing to be nervous about, but still…

* * *

Roman frowned as he heard Juliette moving around on the second floor. He could silently admit that he'd been a little dazzled by the image of the pretty woman inside the bakery just after dawn, the sweet warmth of her pastries spilling out to the street as he ran by. But while she was even prettier in person, she was also a lunatic, and he'd never been big on drama.

If he'd needed a reason to stay away from her, he certainly had one now. But first he had to get her out of the house.

What the hell was she doing up there anyway?The only furniture was in the bedroom he was using, and that didn't involve much, because he didn't need much. His grandfather had offered him a room at his house, but he preferred being on his own, and he was used to making do with the bare necessities.

He pried off another big piece of drywall and tossed it on a pile on the floor. His grandfather wanted to open up the space between the living room and dining room, making it feel like one big room. It was a good idea, one of many, but again he didn't know how the work was ever going to get done. His grandfather had barely done anything in the six months he'd owned the house. But his job was not to question why, just work. At least these questions kept him from thinking about his very uncertain future.

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