Page 16 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

He didn’t ask the obvious question and was thankful when Aspen continued.

“Mom had some mental health problems. Significant problems.”

“That doesn’t explain why people would treatyouwith animosity.”

“There’s a lot I don’t understand. I hope to, and when I learn what I came to learn, I want to leave, move on with my life without all the unanswered questions—and the glares from strangers.”

While he’d dreamed of creating a beautiful mountain retreat, all she wanted was to get answers about her parents and get out of town.

But he didn’t want her to miss out on what her house could be.

And, selfishly, he wanted to transform it, make it something he’d be proud to show off, something that would help him grow his business.

He sent up a quick prayer for wisdom while he ate a few bites of his lunch.

After a sip of water, he said, “How about I draw up two plans, one with the bare bones updates, the things on your list”—he nodded to the notebook as if paying it respect—“and one that incorporates the ideas I mentioned this morning. Tomorrow, we can get together, and you can decide what you want to do.”

“I don’t want you to waste your time. I’m really not open to doing anything too aggressive or time-consuming.”

“I’m just getting started in this business. It’ll be good practice for me.” And maybe, if he did his job well, he’d be able to convince her to do it his way.

Back at the house,Garrett crouched beside Aspen in front of the fireplace. The temperature had dropped outside, and the living room was chilly even to him. Hopefully, this would keep it warm until he could get the furnace serviced.

“It’s not that different from starting a fire outside.” He’d stopped on the way to buy a couple of newspapers and now ripped one section into long strips. “You need something that will light easily. I’ve always used newspaper. Some people buy kindling, but there are enough twigs and brush in the woods that I’ve never seen the need.” He covered the rack with paper, then added some kindling he’d brought in when he’d delivered the wood. He added the smallest split logs from the pile.

She turned to him, a slight smile on her face. “This part I get,” she said. “I have made my share of fires.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to…what do they call it? ‘Mansplain?’”

She chuckled. “I get the feeling you’re going to be explaining a lot of things to me before our work together is finished,considering I know nothing about living in a place like this, or about renovations, for that matter. I’ll try hard not to be offended if you’ll try hard not to laugh at my ignorance.”

“I’m not making that promise.” He turned her way and winked. “Laughing is good for the soul.”

“In that case, I’ll do my best to amuse you.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to try that hard.” He nudged her shoulder with his, immediately regretting the familiar gesture. She was his client. He needed to keep that in mind.

But he felt a weird kinship with her, as if they’d known each other for years, not hours. She was beautiful, but it wasn’t that. There was a connection there. And after Bradley’s attack, Garrett had wanted to protect her. Still did, now that he thought about it.

Which maybe explained why he was crouched on the floor building her a fire. Definitely not a normal part of his general contracting duties.

He showed her how to open the flue, then heat up the chimney so the cold air wouldn’t sink. Then he lit the paper.

The fire blazed to life.

They watched it for a few minutes. He grabbed the poker from the fireplace tools left by some past occupant and adjusted the logs to help them burn. When they’d caught and he was certain they weren’t about to go out, he put the fireplace screen back where it belonged.

He stood and brushed off his hands. “The wood here”—he nodded to the pile he’d left on the hearth—“ought to last you all night. Do you want me to bring you a rick of split wood tomorrow?” Another one of his winter income sources.

“Is that a lot?”

“More than enough to last you a month or so.”

“If you could, that’d be great.”

He told her how much it would cost, and she laughed. “A small price to pay to not freeze to death.”

How could she seem so happy? She should be jet-lagged, grieving, and frustrated at the rude customers at The Patriot. Not to mention creeped out by the history of her house. Instead, she was smiling and laughing as if all were well in the world.

---