The Belle and the Beard by Kate Canterbary (good book club books .txt) 📕

hands and frowned at his plate, as if he had some very unfortunate news to share with me. "My sister owns a landscape architecture firm. She has two designers on staff who do porches and decks all day, every day. I could give her a call."

"Professionally remodeled porches are for people with gainful employment."

He frowned. "I'll make sure you get the family discount."

I had no desire to verbalize my financial situation to Linden or anyone else but I pressed on. "As delightful as that sounds, I will have to pass. These DIY projects aren't my idea of a good time but I like doing them. I like solving these problems and learning new skills that I hope to never use again."

He continued frowning. "She'd get it done for free. If I asked."

"Do you have any idea how much toast I'd have to make you—and your sister!—if I got my porch rebuilt for zero pennies? I'd…I don't even know what I'd do. But I can't allow that."

He reached over, scooped up my legs and set them in his lap. "You'd be doing me a favor."

"How"—I blinked hard at his hand on my knee—"how is my porch a favor to you?"

He gave my shin a long stroke before saying, "She wants me to join her firm. She's expanded in the past two years and used to be able to get by with subcontracting for arborist services but she has design and maintenance clients now, and farming it out is becoming difficult. Expensive too."

"And you want to be wooed?"

"No, not wooed." He picked up the last quarter of the avo-and-egg toast, which I'd pushed his way. "But I don't want it to be a foregone conclusion. I'd have to shift some of my existing maintenance contracts and the tree warden appointments—"

"What is a tree warden?"

He gestured toward me with the toast. "In this state, every city and town is required to have a warden responsible for the trees on public property. It's a law dating back to the 1890s."

"So, you'd need to balance your current arborist commitments with the demands of Magnolia's business. What's in it for you?"

He downed the last of the toast and took a deep drink of his coffee. "A stake in her firm. A hefty one. We'd be partners, essentially. Plus support staff to handle billing and scheduling, which—apparently—is not my brother's job."

"I can understand how one could see that conclusion as foregone," I replied. "What's holding you back? Is it working with different people or priorities? Giving up or scaling back your existing business?"

"A bit of all that but mostly the responsibility. Right now, I can take on as many clients as I want. I can work four days a week if I feel like it. I'm not accountable to my partner or my employees if I decide I want to slow down or take a month off to travel. I'm the only person I'm responsible for and I'm not sure I want that to change. Even if she does have some really cool equipment."

"Then it's not about the money. Not for you."

He shook his head. "No. I'm fine as I am. If I partnered with Magnolia"—he shrugged, lifting both hands and letting them fall to my shins—"well, I'd have more but that wouldn't change anything. It's just money."

Spoken like someone who never found himself without enough to get by.

"Anyway"—he waved a hand at the papers—"if you want me to make a call, I'll do it. She'll have a team down here within two hours."

"If you did that, I'd have to empty out the garage or the other side of the basement, or decide what I'm going to do about Midge's things, and I don't want to do any of that. Not yet. The side door, the carpets, the walls—that stuff doesn't require any real decisions, and I have to tell you, I've made enough decisions for this month. Fixing the porch doesn't require anything like that."

Linden reached across the table and gathered up the plates, and jerked his chin in the direction of the dirty dishes I'd accumulated. "You cooked, I'll clean up." When I made no move to pull my legs from his lap, he added, "I'm catching up on paperwork this morning and then heading out for a residential appointment in Weymouth but don't let me interfere with your plans. The shower is free if you want it."

We stared at each other for a moment, my legs in his lap, his hands on my thighs, all the tension in the world between us. I might've spent the night but I'd never taken off all my clothes and bathed with him only a door away. He'd never listened as water rushed over my body and we both knew it.

"Yeah," I said on a sigh. It was a big sigh too, the kind that fell into the heaving bosom category. Me, heaving my bosom. "That's a good idea."

Except I didn't move. Not even an inch.

He ran a hand through his short beard. "Need anything?"

I gave a slight shake of my head. "I think I left my bathrobe next door but I'll manage without it."

I didn't mean to imply that I'd sashay out of the bathroom dripping wet. I wasn't suggesting I'd strip down naked here in the kitchen. But Linden's eyes went hot and wide nonetheless—and he yanked his plaid shirt over his head.

"Take this," he said, holding out the flannel to me, leaving him in a tissue-thin gray t-shirt. There was a tattoo on the inside of his bicep, a single rangy mountain with a dragon flying over its peak, and some kind of inscription ringing around them. On the other arm, the blade of a sword poked out from under his sleeve. I couldn't see the rest.

I took it, held it to my chest. "You won't miss it?"

He closed his fingers around my ankle, shifted the sole of my foot flat against his fly. He was hard—and working himself through his jeans with my foot