He’d approved the plans for his upscale and oversize version back in February, but by the time of his accident in May, only half of the outer shell was complete. He’d watched the rest of the construction from his hospital bed.
“No, they weren’t nearly enough.” He looked at his friend’s grinning face while shoving his hat back on his head and pocketing his sunglasses. “And you knew that before you asked.”
“Yeah, I did.” Zip moved to his side. “You okay to walk?”
Gripping his friend’s oversize forearm, Bobby slowly put one foot in front of the other. The stinging had lessened, but the needling sensation had moved down to his feet. Sort of like when a person sat too long and tingled when he first moved.
Only about twenty times worse.
“With a bit of help,” he grunted around clenched teeth.
“That’s what I’m here for, bud. A promise is a promise.”
“Knock it off with that promise stuff, would ya?” Bobby shot back. “I’ve told you how I feel about that.”
“And when was the last time I ever listened to you?”
“Three years ago. At your family’s place in Jersey.” Bobby gripped the handrail and hefted himself inside, conscious of his buddy behind him, ready to catch him if he fell. Which he didn’t do much anymore despite what had just happened.
“I agreed with your sisters, and Frank and Joey.” He kept talking. It seemed to speed up his recovery from these episodes. Or at least distracted him. “That girl you’d brought home was all wrong for you.”
“And perfect for Frankie,” Zip said with a wry twist of his lips.
Bobby purposely shuffled past the dining set and leather sectional sofa where Daisy lounged, her snout on her paws as she watched them. That dog always knew when to stay out of the way. A skill most likely learned in the war zone where Zip had found her.
Thankful when he reached the cushioned passenger seat, Bobby eased into it with a silent sigh. “Yeah, especially when we caught her and Frankie going at it in the backyard gazebo.”
“That wasn’t my brother’s fault.” Zip moved back behind the steering wheel. “He was young and stupid.”
“He was twenty-three.” Bobby pulled on his seat belt. “And yet you still made a show of knocking him through the screen door.”
“Hey, my pride was at stake.”
“And you made sure the girl got home okay. Even Daisy didn’t want anything to do with her.”
Zip shrugged, buckled his seat belt as well and started the engine. “Daisy doesn’t like any females. Never has, unlike me. What can I say? I was in love and stupid. Runs in the family, right?”
Yeah, Bobby and Zip might not be blood, but they were family just the same.
“Drive, bro.” Bobby kept his gaze on the road and ran his hands along the tops of his thighs, kneading at the tight muscles. “I’m ready to go home.”
By nine the next morning, Bobby felt much better.
If better meant enduring a morning physical therapy session that twisted him inside out and upside down. They’d finished the workout by christening the new indoor pool with a race Zip had won, barely, and twenty minutes in the steam room.
Now fresh from the shower and dressed, Bobby palmed a cup of hot coffee as he sat in his office. He leaned back in his chair and stared out the window at the acres of trees surrounding his new home.
That was a lot of green.
And gold and orange and red and burgundy. Fall in Wyoming. His favorite season.
He’d grown up the child of a single mother, his father gone before Bobby had started kindergarten. They’d lived in a third-floor, two-bedroom apartment located in the center of town next to Mason’s Garage.
Despite Destiny being a small place, it had plenty of parks, fairgrounds and wide-open spaces, but Bobby had always longed for a tree-filled yard of his own.
He finally had it—and it was a yard that once had belonged to Leeann.
A yard where her family’s Georgian-style mansion, the home she’d grown up in, stood, until an electric storm set fire to the empty house.
He’d only been out to the Harris home a few times when he was young, but he’d never been allowed inside. Her parents had forbidden Leeann to invite him in.
Not that he’d stayed away entirely.
A nearby pond, which hadn’t been visible from the Harris house and still couldn’t be seen through the thick forest of trees, was a favorite meeting spot for him and Lee.
Deep in the woods, with only a well-worn path far from the house marking the way, was a place they’d met when they wanted to be together.
To talk, to laugh, to fall in love. It was the place he’d asked Leeann to marry him on a snowy Valentine’s Day with a cheap diamond chip of a ring.
A place that still belonged to his former fiancée.
When he’d heard from his mother that the Harris land was up for sale—one of the rare times she’d mentioned Leeann—he’d put his lawyers on the task of purchasing the property. Originally made up of thirty-five prime Wyoming acres he’d vowed as a teenager to one day own, it was only twenty-seven acres when the purchase went through.
Prophetic, as his race car was also number twenty-seven.
Leeann had held on to the remaining land, eight acres that included the pond. When he’d seen the final offer, he’d had to admit it gave him a warm feeling to know she’d wanted to keep that place for herself.
“There you are.” Zip interrupted his thoughts as he walked into the office. “Jeez, we walked around this castle of yours three times last night and I’m still lost. I think you need to print some maps. I can’t even find my dog.”
“Daisy was sunning herself in the family room the last time I saw her. And you know this place like the back of your hand.” Bobby swung around to face his friend. “You should, you studied the floor plans as much as I did this summer.”
“As long as I can figure out how to find the kitchen, I’m golden.” His buddy took a large bite from the apple in his hand. “So what’s on the agenda today? Maybe bring a little life to this place?”
“What are you talking about?” Bobby put down his mug. “The house is perfect.”
“Yeah, it’s got more flat-screen televisions than a sports bar and the ‘I love me’ wall downstairs is cute, but it still looks like something out of a magazine.”
“Displaying all those awards and honors wasn’t my idea. Blame the decorators.”
“Yeah, they did such a great job this place looks more like a museum than a—wait, what the heck is that?”
A red light recessed into the top of Bobby’s desk flashed. He pressed his thumb over the glass and it went out.
Reaching for the handmade cane his mother had given him in the hospital when he’d first started walking again, Bobby heaved himself up. “Come on, I think you’re going to like this.”
At the far wall, he ran one hand along the edge of the commissioned oil painting of his race car until he found a hidden button.
A door-size portion of log wall slid silently to the left, disappearing into a hollow opening in the wall. Bobby entered the room on the other side, his buddy tight on his heels.
“Okay,