Free Restorations (Book One Oregon In Love) by Bonnie Blythe Page B

expression
of dread when she heard the telltale crinkling sound from the
paper.
    “Where’s your phonebook? I’ll look in the
yellow pages and we can decide together.”
    “Really, I couldn’t care less what we have,”
she said, waving her hands in little desperate motions. “Just
something quick.”
    Brian settled more comfortably on the couch.
“I was hoping for something different. Could I take a look at your
phonebook?”
    “Can't you look something up on your
phone?”
    “Dead battery.”
    Okay . She had to oblige him. The chances were slim he suspected
anything, but somehow the thought failed to comfort her.
    “Fine. I’ll go get it.”
    In the kitchen, Sara bit her lip in
frustration when she saw all the boxes the phonebook might be
under. After waging a feverish search, it still took her a good
five minutes to locate the thing. She wrenched it out from under a
box and rushed back into the living room.
    Sara found Brian reading the letters. She
let out a squawk of outrage. “You have no right to snoop in my
personal things!”
    Brian looked up.
“ I wrote them,” he
said with maddening reason.
    Sara stood clenching the phonebook, unsure
of what to do. If she demanded the letters back, he might think she
deemed them important. And of course she didn’t. She raised the
phonebook and tossed it at him, glad when it hit him in the chest
with a satisfying thwack before falling unheeded to the floor.
    Brian reached out and grabbed her by the
wrist, pulling her down onto the couch next to him. When she tried
to tug free, his grip tightened. Heart pounding hard, she slowly
raised her gaze to meet his.
    “Been reminiscing, Sara?”
    “I...I found them when I was packing,” she
said, feeling trapped by the intensity of his green eyes.
    Brian released her wrist, but took her hand
in his. His fingers felt warm and firm wrapped around hers. With
his thumb, he lightly traced patterns on her skin. “We need to
talk.”
    “About what?” she asked stupidly.
    The doorbell rang. Brian groaned. He stood
up and thrust the letters at her. “I’ll get the door.”
     
    He waited until Sara left the room before
yanking the door open. A well-dressed man stood on the other side
of the threshold.
    “Can I help you?” Brian said gruffly.
    “Is Sara here? She said she’d be home if I
dropped by.”
    “Who are you?” he asked, not allowing him to
enter.
    The man smiled equably. “A friend. Tell her
it’s Daryl.”
    Brian crossed his arms. “What kind of
friend?”
    “I could ask the same thing of you.”
    Brian heard Sara coming back into the living
room. “Sorry, she’s unavailable right now.”
    “Are you trying to tell me that you two
are—?”
    He edged the door closed. “That’s right.
I’ll tell her you said hello.”
    Daryl smirked. “So you’re the new
opportunity.”
    Brian shut the door in his face, cutting the
man’s speech short.
    “Who was at the door?”
    He started guiltily at the sound of Sara’s
voice. “Um, just someone who made a mistake.” He crossed the room
to her side. “Sara—”
    Sara put up her hands in a defensive gesture
and took a step backward. “Really, Brian, there’s nothing to talk
about. I merely found some old correspondence, and I needed to look
over it to decide whether or not to throw it away.”
    Brian moved closer. “And did you?”
    “Did I what?”
    “Throw those letters away.”
    She lifted her chin and glared at him with a
particularly mulish expression. “It’s none of your business.”
    Which hopefully means she
didn’t toss them . If she kept them, it
might be a sign she still viewed him with some warmth.
    He looked down at her, noticing she stood
bathed in an ethereal light from the stained glass windows. She’d
been born in the wrong century, he decided. She looked like some
melancholy princess out of a fairy tale, a picture of wary
innocence with her large gray eyes fringed by thick lashes.
     
    Sara felt she should move,
but remained fixed