Rebecca Winters - One Winter's Sunset

“What do you need?” she asked.

“Just hold one end in place. I’m trying to get the rest of the siding repaired on this side of the building, but first I have to fit this fascia board in place.”

She stared at him. They’d built the New York house from the ground up, and though Emily had been in charge of the decisions about faucets and paint colors, Cole had handled all the construction details, because he had spent so many years working on houses and knew the lingo. “Fascia board?”

“It goes up there.” Cole pointed to the roofline ten feet above them.

She couldn’t see any way that Cole could do this job alone, not without risking a broken neck. “Okay. Just don’t ask me to hammer. You know how I am with tools.”

“Oh, I remember, Emily.” He winked at her. “My thumb remembers, too.”

“Sorry.” She grinned. “Again.”

Cole got on one of the ladders and waited for Emily to get on the other one. They stepped up in tandem, until he had the board in place under the gutter and she had aligned her edge with the roofline.

“I’m just teasing you about my thumb,” he said with a smile. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“That’s not what you said that day. All we were doing was hanging some pictures, and you made it into a major project. Tape measure, level, laying out the frame placement with masking tape. Our house wasn’t the Louvre, you know.” She grinned.

“So I’m a little anal about those kinds of things.”

“A little?” She arched a brow.

“Okay, a lot. I guess I deserved having you hit my thumb with the hammer.”

“Well, as long as we’re admitting weaknesses, I guess I was a little impatient. I just wanted the whole thing to be done.” She shrugged. “I could have gone slower, and maybe not given you a hammer whack in the process.”

“Even if I deserved it?”

She laughed. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

He fiddled with the board, aligning it better, then grabbing a nail out of the tool belt and sinking the first one into the plywood. “You know, I think that was the last time we ever worked together on something.”

“It was.” Emily shifted her weight. A wave of light-headedness hit her, but she shrugged it off. “It’s no wonder. That day didn’t go very well.” It had ended with a fight and Cole sleeping on the couch, too, but Emily didn’t mention that. They had an easy détente between them now, and she wanted to preserve that peace a while longer.

“True,” he said softly. “Let’s hope this goes better.”

“It should.” She grinned. “We’re on opposite ends of the board.”

Cole laughed, then dug in his tool belt for a few more nails, hammering them in one at a time. “All appendages accounted for?” he asked her.

“Yup.” The light-headedness hit her again, and she leaned into the ladder, shifting her grip on the board again. “You almost done?”

“A few more nails. Hold on a second. I have to move my ladder down toward you.” He climbed down, shifted the ladder a few feet forward, then climbed back up and started hammering again.

A wave of nausea and dizziness slammed into Emily. She closed her eyes, but it didn’t ease the feeling. Her face heated, she swayed again. All she wanted was to get off this ladder. Now.

“Cole, I...I need to get down.” She let go of the board, gripped the ladder and climbed down to the ground. The light-headedness persisted so she sat on the edge of the porch, under the cool shadow of the overhang.

In an instant, Cole was there, the board forgotten, his voice filled with concern. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just got a little dizzy being up so high.”

“Then you sit. Or, if you want, go inside. I can handle this. The hard part is all done.”

“I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” She waved him off, part of her wanting him to hold her close and tell her it was all okay, the other part wishing he would go away and leave her be. Heck, wasn’t that how she had felt for the past six months? Torn between wanting him close and wanting him gone.

It was as if she couldn’t quite give up on the dream. Couldn’t let go of the hope that this could all work out. Their marriage was like the Gingerbread Inn, Emily realized. In desperate need of major repairs and a lot of TLC.

The only difference? The inn wasn’t past the point of no return yet. Their marriage, on the other hand, was. If anything told her that, it was the conversation the other night about kids where Cole made it clear he wasn’t on the same page as she was. Now she was having a baby her husband didn’t want, and the sooner she accepted that, the better. Besides, any change in him this week was temporary. She knew that from experience. At the first sign of trouble at the company, Cole would be gone, for weeks on end, and she’d be on her own.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cole asked. “You look a little pale.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Just a little pregnant, is all.

He looked like he wanted to probe deeper. Instead, Cole cleared his throat and shifted the hammer in his hand. He glanced up at the fascia board they’d installed, then back at Emily. “I, uh, better finish up.”

She shifted to the side so he could climb up the ladder and finish hammering in the wood. By the time the last nail was in, Emily had gone inside. Because staying out there watching Cole fix the inn she loved only made her long for the impossible.

* * *

Cole’s back ached, his shoulders burned and his legs hurt more than after his thrice-weekly run. His hands had calluses and nicks, and a fine shadow of stubble covered his jaw. When he looked in the mirror, he saw a man as far from a billionaire CEO as one could get.

It felt good. Damned good.

Still, he was smart enough to know he couldn’t stay here forever. He had a business to get back to, a business that needed his attention. Every day he spent away from WTD was one that impacted the bottom line. People depended on him—families depended on him—to keep the profits coming so they could pay their mortgages and put food on their tables. Instead, he was here, working on the Gingerbread Inn, a place that meant something to Emily.

Because he’d thought they stood a chance. After that kiss, hope had filled him. Hope they could find their way back as a couple if they just spent more time together. But it seemed every time they got close, she put up this wall. Or she walked away, shutting the door as effectively with her distance as she had the day she’d asked him to move out of their house.

Did she have a point? Was it all about not wanting to give up? Admit defeat? Was it about the battle, not about love?

His phone vibrated against his hip. Cole flipped it out, shifting from carpenter mode to businessman in an instant. He dropped onto the bottom step, and for the next half hour, worked out the details of a deal with a partner in China, made a decision about firing a lackluster employee and hammered out the contents of the quarterly investor report with Irene, his assistant.

“The place is going nuts without you,” Irene said. “You’d think the sun had stopped shining or something.”

Cole ran a hand through his hair. This was why he rarely took vacations and worked most weekends. “I’ll come back in the morning.”

“You will do no such thing.” Irene’s calm voice came across the line strong and sure. In her sixties, Irene had always been more than an assistant—she’d been a guiding force, a sort of mother not just to Cole but to everyone at WTD. She was plainspoken and filled with common sense, so when she talked, Cole knew he’d do well to listen.

“And why would I stay here when the company is in a panic?”

“Because it’ll do all the lemmings around here some good to take on a little leadership. And because it’ll do you even more good to do something other than wither away under the fluorescent lighting.”