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Zara tugged on the old bed until it was beneath the window. She’d worked up a sweat, but finally her bedroom was rearranged. She needed it to be different, because every time she’d walked in here, she’d seen Braden. He consumed her entire home, and Zara was trying like hell to rid the house of memories. Unfortunately, they were permanently embedded into her mind, her heart.
She’d only been home an hour when her electricity kicked back on. Making good use of the time, she washed her sheets and comforter. There was no way she would’ve been able to crawl into bed surrounded by Braden’s masculine scent...and she was almost positive Jack had an accident.
She stared over at the chaise she’d pushed near the door. She truly had no idea where to put that now that she’d changed the bed.
Zara circled her room, stopping when her eyes zeroed in on a sock, a piece of cardboard and a small towel where her bed used to be. That kitten had started a stash.
Just the thought of the kitten, of how Braden hadn’t thought twice about rescuing it, had her eyes burning all over again. She’d experienced a wide variety of emotions in the past few hours. Anger, sorrow, fury and then emptiness.
All of that stemmed from Braden. She refused to even think of all the emotions she’d felt when Shane had stopped by. Unfortunately, he’d caught her during the sorrow stage.
Zara headed down to the first floor to check on the status of her sheets. They should be dry by now, and she needed to keep focused and stay busy. She didn’t want to contemplate how bored she would be once she ran out of things to do. Even work wasn’t appealing to her right now.
Just as she hit the bottom step, her doorbell rang. The last thing she wanted was a visitor, especially if Shane decided to come back. Now she’d hit her anger stage, and he’d be sorry if he decided he still couldn’t take no for an answer.
The stained-glass sidelights provided no clue as to who her visitor was. Zara checked the peephole in the old door and gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to get into this. She truly did not want to rehash all the good, bad and sexy with the man on the other side of the door.
But she knew Braden O’Shea well enough now to know he wasn’t going away without a fight. Well, if he wanted a fight, she was ready to give him one.
Jerking the door open, Zara blocked the entrance and stared at her unwelcome guest.
“Ready to search the house?” she asked sweetly.
With his hands shoved in his black wool coat, collar up around his stubbled jawline, Braden still looked sexy. Why did he have to be so damn perfect to look at?
“I don’t want to search your house,” he told her, his jaw clenched. “I want to talk, and if you don’t want me inside, I’m more than willing to stand on your porch. The choice is yours.”
She gripped the edge of the door. “I could slam this door in your face and not give you a second thought.”
“You could,” he agreed. “But you’re not a heartless woman, Zara. And no matter what you feel now, you also still have feelings for me. You’re not the type of person who can just turn those off.”
Hesitating, trying to figure out what to do, Zara gave in and pushed the door wider. Turning on her socked feet, she headed into the living room. The door closed behind her, but she kept her back to the doorway because right now she couldn’t even face him. If he wanted to talk, he was more than welcome to do so, but Zara didn’t know if she had the strength to face him head-on.
So much for that fight she’d geared up for. Just seeing him, hearing that sultry voice thrust her back into the sorrowful stage.
“Why are you here?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Haven’t we said enough?”
“Are you going to look at me?”
Swallowing, Zara shook her head. “No.”
“Fair enough.”
Braden’s footsteps shuffled behind her, and she braced herself for his touch, but it never came. Still, the hairs on her neck stood on end. He was close, definitely within reaching distance, yet he didn’t reach for her.
“There’s nothing I can say to undo what I did.”
Yeah, he was so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke. He wasn’t going to make this easy on her.
“When my father was in the hospital, the doctors weren’t sure if he’d make it through the heart surgery. Dad knew, though. He knew the outcome. I could tell by the way he took my hand, asked me to find these scrolls no matter what.”
