Everywhere and Every Way - Jennifer Probst Page 0,78
of nocturnal insects partying. He switched on his iPhone flashlight and led her down the winding path behind the house, heading to the brink of the woods. She stopped short. “Uh, now I kind of feel like Red. I don’t want to go in there. It’s creepy.”
He tightened his grip on her hand. “We have the dogs. They won’t let any wolves hurt you. Neither will I.”
As if they sensed her unease, Gandalf and Balin planted themselves on both sides of her like trained guard dogs. Their upturned faces vowed endless protection and love. Morgan patted their heads, then gazed at the shadowy private path that disappeared into a thicket of trees. “Okay, but I’m more worried about Jason or Freddy.”
He pressed his lips together and firmly led her forward. She jumped when some owl-type screech cut through the air, but Gandalf’s warning growl seemed to calm her. Balin led the way, stopping now and then to make sure they were still following, and her hand squeezed his harder. Hell, he was having fun on their outdoor adventure. Cal enjoyed the way she pressed close to his side. He rarely saw her afraid of anything, so knowing the dark spooked her made him want to protect her. Finally the large storage shed came into view.
“We came out here for this?” she squeaked. Her body trembled a bit, and she kept glancing back and forth at each noise. Cal unlocked the rickety double doors and flicked on the light.
“Surprise.”
Morgan gasped. Filled to the rafters, the shed epitomized one motto.
One person’s junk was another one’s treasure.
She moved through the piles of furniture and trinkets stacked in haphazard piles. Cal knew the famous shed rivaled the antique Barn store, but Cal’s family was the only one who knew about it. Since he wasn’t into the restoration like his brothers, he saw the old shed as more of a junkfest but was always amazed at some of the pieces that were revamped from the items here.
Morgan stroked the surfaces of remnants of ebony pearl wood, shuddered over the frame of a pink marble headboard, and gave a sexy moan over a box containing a mishmash of knobs ranging from pure brass to crystal. “How did you get all this?” Her hushed voice reminded him of being in church. He bet Morgan thought the shed was even more holy.
“My father started collecting remnants of all our jobs and scrap material to put into future projects. Soon, it became more of an assortment of interesting items we didn’t want to get rid of. This used to be Dalton’s favorite place. Tristan’s too.”
The memories of him and his brothers hiding out in the shed to escape their father’s constant demands flowed past. They set up their own private fort under a massive cherrywood desk and pretended they were in a spaceship. Gathered late at night to tell ghost stories and munch on packs of Oreos, free from the eyes of parents, bonded by blood and circumstance and a friendship that got him through the days. He shook off the images, his throat tight, and watched Morgan’s face. Delight and a sense of adventurous joy gleamed in her eyes. She picked her way through the piles, pulling items out, discarding some, running her fingers over sharp edges and broken wood, seeing something beautiful in each part.
An intense shock vibrated through him. For such a practical female, she held an inner sense of wonder that intrigued him. He liked the way she saw the potential in failure, the whole in the broken. Cal wondered what she saw in him.
“This is better than the Barn,” she said. “My God, Cal, can I buy things? There are so many possibilities. I’ve decided to build each room around one special object, connecting a theme that resonates throughout the entire house. I think the Rosenthals can appreciate the concept.” Her touch was almost reverent to a half-shattered grandfather clock with calligraphy replacing the numbers to spell out the family name of the one who had owned it years ago. Her nose wrinkled, and her brows lowered in a frown. “I’m worried if it’s too subtle, they’ll be concerned about not making an overwhelming visual impression on guests. They’ve always been a bit more ostentatious than some of my other clients. Well, at least I thought so before they threw me a curveball, suddenly embracing the minimalist look.”
He crossed his arms in front of his chest, studying the slight frown on her brow. She