In Search Of Dreams

One thing was certain, she wasn’t interested in finding out the hard way.

As much as she yearned to love and be loved, to have someone who would always be there for her, no matter what, she had been burned too badly once before. She wasn’t ready yet to risk another serious romance, or even a casual love affair. Even if she were, she’d be a fool to consider J.T. as a candidate. Come spring, he would go on his merry way, and she’d be left with a broken heart. Again.

As solitary and lonely as her life was, it was preferable to that sort of pain.

However, keeping J.T. at a distance did not seem to be an option. It appeared that her only other defense was to become a casual friend and hope she could keep things light between them.

J.T.’s gaze dropped to his caressing finger as it touched the corner of her mouth and lingered there.

Kate’s breath caught. The tiny reaction did not escape him. His smile deepened, and for an instant she thought she saw something flare in his eyes. However, when his gaze lifted to hers once again they twinkled with good humor. “So what do you say? Deal?”

Tipping her head back, Kate broke contact with that tormenting finger and gave him an arch look. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” he replied with such cheerful cockiness that she had to fight back a smile of her own. “And now that we have that settled, whadda ya say we eat? I’m starving.”

Grinning, he held her chair for her. Left with little choice, Kate reluctantly resumed her seat.

She kept her gaze on her plate and tried not to fidget. She wasn’t used to having someone in her kitchen, or to sharing mealtime with anyone.

For several minutes neither spoke as they applied themselves to the meal. Or at least, J.T. did. Kate was too tense to eat another bite. She merely moved the remains of her breakfast around on the plate and wondered how she had lost control of the situation so quickly.

J.T. was one of those men who thoroughly enjoyed dining and savored every bite. For all his slender build, he consumed an amazing amount of food. Like most women who enjoyed cooking, Kate liked to see a man with a hearty appetite, and despite her skittering nerves, when he complimented her on the meal, she experienced a rush of pleasure.

“Thank you,” she replied stiffly. “My mother taught me. She was an excellent cook.”

Pausing to take a sip of coffee, J.T. looked around. “This really is a magnificent home.” He leaned back, sipping his coffee and took another, longer look, taking in the brick floors and massive beams that spanned the ceiling, the tall walnut cabinets and copper pots hanging above granite-topped counters and, finally, the cheery fire dancing in the kitchen fireplace. “How long have you owned it?”

“Actually, my brother and I own the house jointly. We inherited it four years ago when our mother passed away.”

“Really? Excuse me for saying so, but I didn’t realize mining engineers made that kind of money. A place like this had to have cost a fortune.”

“When my family came here twenty-three years ago, the house had been sitting vacant for over thirty years. They bought it for a song.”

“You’re kidding. A gorgeous place like this?”

“Yes, well, the real estate market in Gold Fever has never been great. None of the Smithson heirs wanted it, no local could afford the place, and until my parents came along, no outsiders were interested in putting money into a hundred-plus-year-old mansion in a tiny mountain town miles from nowhere.”

“After being vacant so long, it must have needed a lot of work.”

“Yes, but mostly cosmetic. Structurally the house was sound. It was built out of granite during a time when craftsmanship and quality were the norm.

“My parents did most of the work themselves. It took them almost thirteen years to complete the job.” She smiled fondly, remembering. “I’ve lived here since I was six years old, and the whole time I was growing up we stepped over paint cans and drop cloths and dodged saw horses and ladders. There was always some part of the house being restored. I have fond memories of Mom and Dad working together, sanding the banisters and the wainscoting in the library, stripping musty wallpaper and refinishing floors and woodwork and furniture.”

“They did a great job. But it’s kind of a big house for a family of four, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but from the start, the plan was to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast after Dad retired and Zach and I were grown and gone.”

Kate’s nostalgic mood faded. “The trouble was, he was killed in a mining accident before he had a chance to retire. He was just fifty-nine at the time.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been rough.”

“Yes. It was. Dad didn’t have much life insurance, and the mining company that owned the Shamrock at that time declared bankruptcy before a settlement could be made, so what had been a retirement dream became a necessity for Mom. A few months after Dad died, she turned the house into a B&B.”

“I see. Your guests must love this place. I’ll bet a lot of them come back year after year.”

“Yes, many do.”

J.T. looked around the room once more and mused, “A house this size must be a constant financial drain, though. Utilities alone must be staggering. It doesn’t seem like it would be cost effective. Especially since you’re not open year-round.”

Kate’s spine stiffened. She fixed him with a narrow-eyed stare. “Is there some reason you’re interested in my finances, Mr. Conway?”

“Uh-oh, we’re back to Mr. Conway, are we? Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy. Just a writer’s natural curiosity. It’s an occupational hazard, I’m afraid.”

“I see.” She scrutinized him for several moments, but after a while she gradually relaxed. “I suppose that’s understandable. Actually, operating expenses are not as much as you might think, thanks to an ingenious builder and my Dad’s innovations. A hot spring supplies water and radiant heat throughout. Dad had the foresight to install solar panels all along the back side of the roof and there are three wind generators behind the barn. Between the two I have plenty of electricity, but there is also a backup generator for those few times when the stored energy runs low. The summers here are comfortably cool so there is no need for air-conditioning and little for heat, but the fireplaces in every room handle what there is. In the winter I am here alone, so I close off the empty bedrooms and heat just the parts of the house that I use.”

“Mmm. Interesting.” He was quiet for a moment, then said casually, “You mentioned a brother. Does he help you run the place?”

Kate tensed again and shot him a sharp look, but J.T.’s expression was innocent enough. Apparently once again his question had been prompted by nothing more than idle curiosity.

“No. Zach hasn’t lived in Gold Fever for years.” Not since their mother married the Reverend Bob Sweet, and changed all their lives, Kate thought sadly. “He takes care of repairs and whatever needs doing when he’s here, but as I said, he has his own life.”

Time to back off, J.T. told himself, reading the suspicion in her eyes. You’re going to have to take it slow with this one, Conway. The lady is as wary as a gazelle in lion territory.

J.T. finished off his eggs and drained his coffee cup, and cocked an eyebrow at Kate. “Speaking of chores, can I give you a hand with anything today before I get started on my book outline? I’ll be glad to help you finish the composting, or whatever else needs doing.”

“No, thank you. I have everything under control.”

“You sure? I don’t mind lending a hand.”

“I’m quite sure, thank you.”

Chapter Four

Just over a month later Kate felt foolish for having worried at all. She rarely saw J.T.

Apparently the muse had him firmly in its grip. Every day, all day and late into the night, he was either in the library with his nose buried in a book or holed up in his room, tapping furiously on his laptop keyboard. Thanksgiving came and went, but J.T. hadn’t seemed to notice.

He showed up for meals only occasionally, and though it pained her to do so, she put his food in the refrigerator as he’d requested. Sometimes he got around to eating it and sometimes he didn’t.

Kate tried to tell herself it was none of her concern. If the man wanted to starve himself, it didn’t matter to her.

But it did. Like it or not, she was a born nurturer. A mother hen, her father and Zach used to call her, just like her mother. Which was why they had both taken so well to running a B&B, Kate supposed.

Taking care of people, seeing to their needs and comforts was a pleasure to her, and it came as naturally as breathing. Try as she might, she simply could not go about her business without worrying that J.T. wasn’t eating right.

In mid-December, when he failed to show up for dinner the third evening in a row, she could take it no longer. It simply wasn’t healthy to skip meals, she told herself as she marched up the stairs. For all she knew, he could be passed out on the floor from hunger at that very moment.

Pausing outside his door, Kate listened, but there was no click of the laptop keyboard from the other side, only silence.

Could he be asleep at seven in the evening? Oh, Lord, what if he really had passed out? Or was ill?

She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated. Shifting from one foot to the other, she chewed her bottom lip. Maybe she should leave him alone. After all, he had been emphatic about not wanting to be disturbed. But then, the Do Not Disturb sign wasn’t hanging on the doorknob.

Taking a deep breath, she tapped lightly on the door. When nothing happened she knocked again, louder this time. She waited for what seemed like minutes, but still the only response was silence.

Concern began to bubble up inside her, filling her chest. Kate looked around, as though help would appear out of nowhere. Should she go in? He could be ill. Or hurt.

“J.T.? J.T., are you in there?” She knocked again, then pressed her ear to the panel and listened.

Nothing.

Panicked now, she pounded the door with the side of her fists. Her hand was poised to deliver another round of thumps when J.T. snatched the door open and barked, “What?”

“I…I—”

He didn’t look anything like the cheerful man who had invaded her kitchen only six weeks ago. J.T.’s face was thunderous, and his eyes had a wild look, as though he’d just been jerked awake from a dream or a trance. Exhaustion had smudged dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. His rumpled clothes looked as though he’d slept in them, his hair hadn’t been touched by a comb in Lord knew when, and at least three days worth of beard stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked untamed and fierce.

And dangerous.

“I, uh…I came to tell you that dinner is ready.”

“Dinner?” He stared at her. A low sound started deep in his throat and rumbled up. When it reached a crescendo he clapped a hand against his forehead and dragged it slowly down over his face. Against his palm, his beard stubble made a scratchy sound like course sandpaper.

He opened his eyes again, and they fixed on her like twin blue laser beams. “You interrupted me to tell me that dinner is ready? Dammit, woman, I’m working in here!” he roared. “I specifically told you not to disturb me when I was working except for an emergency. And by that I mean there’d better be fire or a helluva lot of blood involved. Got it?”

Kate’s first instinct was to take a step back. Instead she raised her chin and pointed to the intricate copper doorknob. “You said not to disturb you when the sign was out. It’s not. I thought perhaps you’d fallen asleep.”

He bent toward her until they were almost nose to nose and snarled through clenched teeth, “If I had been and you woke me I wouldn’t be any happier than I am now, I promise you.”

Any trepidation she felt evaporated in the face of his obnoxious attitude. Kate’s spine stiffened and her voice turned as frosty as Wisconsin in winter. “I was simply concerned. Breakfast was hours ago, and you didn’t show up for lunch. I thought you would be hungry by now.”

“If I was I’d have come down to dinner, now, wouldn’t I? What I am is busy. Just stick the food in the fridge like I asked. I’ll eat it later if I get hungry. Now good night.”

He stepped back and slammed the door before she could reply. Astonished, Kate stared at the wooden panel just inches from her face. Before she could moved or even react, the door jerked opened again partway.

A beady eye glared at her through the crack. J.T.’s hand shot out, hooked the Do Not Disturb sign over the outside doorknob, withdrew, and the door snapped shut again.

The sound was followed by the sharp click of the lock.

Kate stared at the swinging sign with disbelief, her temper coming to a boil. Never in her life had anyone slammed a door in her face!

She was so angry she was tempted to haul off and give the door a hard kick. If she hadn’t valued the old paneled walnut—and her toes—she would have.

Teeth clenched, her eyes narrowed into slits, Kate stood there for several seconds, glaring at the intricate grain of the wood and debating with herself about banging on it again and giving him a dressing down that would blister his ears.

Finally, though, she huffed, spun on her heels and stomped back down the stairs. See if she would ever try to be nice to him again. From now on the obnoxious oaf could starve for all she cared.

And to think that she had been worried about falling for him. Ha! Fat chance.

Kate didn’t see J.T. again that evening, nor all the next day, but she would not allow herself to worry about him. He could hole up in his room and rot for all she cared. If she’d known he was a Jekyll and Hyde she would never have agreed to let him stay in the first place.

The second morning after their run-in she entered the kitchen to find dirty dishes in the sink. Kate gave the mess a sour look and loaded it all into the dishwasher, determined not to feel relieved that he’d finally eaten something.

After a solitary breakfast, Kate spent the morning finishing the outside winterizing. Though the sun was shining, the wind had a bitter bite, a reminder that the first storm of the season was bearing down on the mountains. As soon as she went back inside she telephoned Lewis Goodman for the third time in as many days, and got into a heated argument with him over the firewood he had been promising to deliver for over a month.

Lewis, like everyone else in Gold Fever, hated doing business with Kate, but not enough to turn down her money. Particularly since she ordered more firewood than anyone else in town. However, he always made the transaction as difficult for her as he could.

“You’ll get your firewood when I’m ready to deliver it,” he barked.

“Lewis, the weather service is predicting snow by the end of the week. I need that firewood. I’m warning you, if you don’t deliver it soon, I’m going to call a woodcutter in Durango or Ouray.”

He gave a confident snort, and she could almost see his smirk. “You won’t do that. It’ll cost you three times as much if they have to haul the wood all the way up here.”

“It’ll be worth it not to have to put up with your rudeness and game playing!” she snapped, and hung up the telephone before he could argue more.

Between her maddening boarder and Lewis, Kate’s mood was less than serene. Needing an outlet for the fury churning inside her, she attacked her inside chores with a vengeance.

First she gathered all the laundry and lugged it down to the basement—all, that is, except what was in J.T.’s room. Which was just one more thing that was getting under her skin. She would probably have to muck out his room with a shovel if he didn’t surface soon.

When the washing machines were chugging away, she returned to the kitchen, where she cleaned out the refrigerator and scrubbed the oven, stove top and vent hood, but even when the jobs were done she was still simmering.

Hoping to work off the rest of her anger, she spent the entire afternoon cleaning out the kitchen cabinets and putting in new shelf paper. In between chores she made several trips to the basement to transfer washing to the dryers and fold and put away the clean laundry.

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