Your Hand in Mine: A Heartwood Novel Page 7

  “Slow down and grab a cup of hot chocolate. It will help you.”

  “I don’t want any hot chocolate.” It’s ninety degrees outside! “I want a time machine. You got one of those in the back?”

  “I just lent it out,” Essie teased. “Sorry. I’ll go ahead and put you on the waiting list.”

  Instead of holding onto my mad, I tried to let it go. It was easier said than done. I took a cup from behind the counter and filled it with hot chocolate. Then, on second thought, I dumped the chocolate and went straight for the espresso machine. I performed better with a little caffeine in my system. Not that I’d ever gotten my promised cup from Fenton. For good measure, I made a second shot for Essie and set it aside.

  The first sip slid down and soothed right down to my bones. A wave of exhaustion took me. I shouldn’t have felt this tired. This stressed.

  Essie came out from between the swinging doors moments later carrying a tray of something that smelled like heaven. “Can you please sit down?”

  “I’ll try. I’m a little riled up.”

  “You only get that look in your eye when you have a man on the line. Do you have a special someone you haven’t told me about? Or is it Fenton?”

  “Not lately. And don’t ask.”

  “Did you sleep with him?” She winked.

  “Are you kidding me? Even I’m not that good. And by the way, we are not in high school, young lady. You can use the real words in my presence.”

  “Okay.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Did you guys…have sex?”

  I sighed. “You and your dirty mouth.”

  “I’m only asking because you look like you’ve taken a ride on an emotional roller coaster. I know you’ve gotten into some kind of trouble.” She paused on her way to the display case. “It was a natural conclusion.”

  “Well, get it out of your head. If I’d managed it, I would be in here grinning like a fox instead of feeling like I need to smash my face into your dessert case and never come out again.”

  “I talked to you this morning. I’m not sure how you manage to get into trouble every time I turn my back but stop it. I mean it, Shar.”

  Essie was used to me and my man friends. I’d never been the kind of woman to shy away from a relationship. Sex was a natural and healthy part of a person’s adult life. I used my head, made good choices—and some bad—and tried to live in the moment.

  There was a point in my past where I felt comfortable juggling two at a time. That was the old me. The me from last year when I didn’t respect myself as much as I should have and tried to do something exciting and out of my comfort zone. Since then I’d tried to be little more discerning about boyfriends and the relations I kept. Which was to say I’d been single for a good while.

  There were a few random flirtations here and there, a sweet comfort in the night, and nothing serious.

  Maybe I had completely misread the signs when it came to Fenton. Although, I wondered how I could have. He’d stepped up to kiss me the day of the fair. Stepped up when he could have easily let his friend have the pleasure.

  There had been enough signs to have me feeling comfortable with moving ahead. What the hell had happened?

  I hesitated before dragging out a seat, then took one of the cookies Essie offered. “I needed this,” I said, holding the cookie high.

  “I’m sure you did.”

  Nibbling—and taking a moment to savor the flavors. No one could bake like Essie— I told her all the gory details of my embarrassing afternoon before finishing on a sigh. “I shouldn’t have agreed to the job. Right?” Confusion rushed in and took over the place where confidence used to reside.

  “If you told him to shove it, then where would you be?” she replied. “The thing is, you need a job, and here is someone offering you something on a platter. It’s not like you want to marry this guy and make a dozen babies. He’s a guy. He’s…oh. Oh no. Shari!”

  I hung my head, back on the emotional roller coaster. I was strapped in and ready to ride again and again. “I don’t know, Es, okay? What if he’s not a normal guy? I don’t know what I think about him. I’ve never had this kind of gut reaction before. It’s…visceral.” I made a fist with my hands. “He makes my heart feel like I’m on the verge of an attack and that’s from looking at him. I feel like he could be the one. Maybe I should capitalize it. The One. The big one.”

  “You don’t know him.” Essie laughed. “How am I the voice of reason, here? Usually, you’re the one trying to calm me out of hysterics. You’re the part of this duo who handles relationships with grace and ease.”

  “This time I need you more than you need me,” I said miserably. On that note, I shoved an entire cookie into my mouth and probably a thousand calories straight down to my hips. My pants felt tighter already. “I’m in unfamiliar and hostile waters. Instead of sailing through, I’m making an ass out of myself. There’s only one problem.”

  “What?”

  “This isn’t a fantasy in my head. This is real life.”

  Essie stared at me until the sliver of discomfort I’d been feeling vanished. I’m not sure what it was about her. Maybe it was her demeanor, southern sweetness with a hint of sass, or her steady blue gaze instilling whatever calm she’d managed to find into me. Either way, I’d never appreciated her steady nature more.

  “Give it a little time before deciding. Try to put the testosterone issues to the side and look at this opportunity for what it is. A fresh start,” Essie concluded. She took a sip of her espresso. “I know you loved working at the gallery but this is a good opportunity. It gets you immediate income, which you need, and who knows? Maybe you’ll find you really like whatever job he has you do. This could be the chance for a whole new career avenue.”

  “Or a good opportunity to be face to face with a man who doesn’t seem to want me for anything more than my ability to math.” I let my head drop to the table.

  “Then he’s a fool,” she answered in typical best friend fashion. With heavy conviction. “And there’s no telling he won’t change his mind when he’s face to face with your dazzling personality five days a week. You’re a fun-loving lady and a damn fine manager. He can’t hold out forever.”

  “Sounds like a great plan.”

  “Try to be yourself and forego the games. You know what happens when you play games. And I know what you say about karma.”

  I sighed again. “Karma is only a bitch if you are.” It was my version of sage advice, passed down from my mother to my older sister to me.

  Essie nodded decisively. “You got it.”

  That was why I loved her. No matter what kind of funk I found myself in, I knew Essie would always be there to cut through the garbage and tell me the truth. The truth I needed to hear. Unlike some people who would bullshit me with what I wanted to hear. It was the singular point on which our entire friendship was founded. Mutual respect and blunt honesty. In my mind, one wasn’t worth anything without the other.

  We’d known each other for years now, having met one night at the Friday hoedown at the country store. Essie had been standing in the corner looking lost and young and naïve, holding a plate of cookies and doing her best to fend off a flirtatious and not-so-spectacular specimen of manhood. I’d come to her rescue, gotten a phone number, and made a friend for life.

  Today in the sweet shop, with the air filled with the scents of caramel and almonds, I had to take a deep breath and calm my howling nerves when the cookie went only so far toward soothing them. There was no precedent for this overwhelming anxiety. Especially not when it came to a man problem. It was vital to know my own strengths and weaknesses. That way I’d be able to better understand my reaction this time around.

  The realization came to me in a flash and I stopped in the process of slipping my lip gloss out for a once-over.

  I didn’t want to stay in the same loop I’d lived my adult life repeating. Where I bounced from one emotionally unavailable man to another, a ping pong ball in a co
nstant game of back and forth. Sure, it had never bothered me before. I stayed in a state of forward motion. Like a yellow light. I kept my eyes open for opportunity and tried to never get too attached. Emotionally unavailable myself, if you will.

  Relationships came and went, and it had taken me until now to realize. They were all the same. Wrong. And I was the same when I was in them. Wrong, unable to be my authentic self. I was too busy looking forward to live in the moment. Focusing on the motion instead of the man.

  With Fenton, I wanted it to be different. I wanted to slow down and appreciate him. To be me around him. I didn’t want the yellow light or the ping pong ball. I was ready to be done.

  “Hey. Are you okay?” Essie cocked her head and stared at me, eyebrows lifted.

  “I’ll do it,” I decided. “I’ll take the job, and the romance will come eventually. I won’t force it, and it might not come right away—”

  “Which is what you’re used to. Probably why you’re getting all upset about this,” Essie interrupted with earnest optimism.

  “—but I need to keep a foot in the game,” I finished. “I’ll do what I can to help Fenton with whatever he needs.”

  I stifled a laugh, pressing a hand to my belly. Whatever he needed, hell. I wasn’t the type of person to go out of my way to make someone else happy unless I felt a deep connection to them. My pattern, remember? This was the first time in my life, and probably the last, I would ever say such a thing about a man.

  It helped that he was yummy looking.

  Essie shrugged. She didn’t quite get the joke. Her mind wasn’t as filthy as mine, and no matter how many times I tried to drag her down into the gutter, she refused to get her clothes dirty. “You can’t do any more.”

  “Thanks, Es. You’re a pal. I mean it.”

  “You’re going to make me blush.” She shook her head and set her empty cup of coffee aside.

  “I appreciate his offer, anyway. The chance for a job. I hadn’t expected it from him. It was like a shot in the dark. From a sniper.”

  “It will give you a chance to get to know him better before you go and pick out a white dress.”

  A white dress. Had I really gotten that deep so fast? I let out a low, long breath. “This is scary,” I admitted.

  “Having a man not jump on you the first chance he gets? I’m sure it is. Especially for you. Now, if you’re not busy, I could use some help with dishes. It’s me in here this afternoon. I let Leda go home early.”

  “Fine. You got me. As long as there’s another shot of the good stuff involved.” I used my nose to gesture toward the espresso machine. “Think you can spare another round?”

  “I think I can find time in my busy schedule.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A week later, I was settled in one of the in-progress guest suites on the second floor of the bed and breakfast, with my own desk and chair brought from home. A few days in the cramped space with Fenton’s piles had me seeing double and I moved the first opportunity I had. I planned on spending most of my time at the job site. Once I took stock of the scope of work, I knew I would need to pull a few late nights to get caught up. He wouldn’t be happy when I totaled my hours at the end of the week, but it was his own fault for having let things slide.

  Too busy with the physical work to think about the rest. Luckily, I’d showed up in time to keep him from slipping over the edge of madness.

  Fenton wondered why I needed an office all to myself and indicated his willingness to make space in his own area for me. Trying to tell him I wouldn’t get any work done in the chaos went over his head, and he spent a good five minutes trying to clear a space before he realized it was futile. I had to give it to him, though. The man worked. When he strapped on his tool belt, he was present, and didn’t stop until whatever held his focus was either completed or done to the best of his ability for the day.

  When he wasn’t at the job site, he was working at the bar pulling double duty. I wondered when he found a moment to sleep. Maybe he had a space somewhere to curl up and catch a quick cat nap.

  Another two weeks and I’d worked my way up to a laptop and a vase of fresh flowers. The laptop came from Fenton, borrowed from home. The flowers were mine.

  I’d made a few mishaps in the beginning, fumbling while I tried to get the rhythm of the workplace. Part of it was changing career paths without any kind of training. The other part of my problem was the incredible tension I felt whenever Fenton was in the room. It was silly, I knew it, to let my brain turn to mud where he was concerned. Still, I acted like a bumbling idiot, babbling through my conversations and trying to be alluring without going completely overboard.

  I ogled his rear every chance I got. But we managed to find a rhythm at last. Then I felt more comfortable with the work involved. My place within the crew hierarchy. And began to kick a little ass.

  I put his office in order within the first three days, moving all the paperwork upstairs to my new room in the meantime. Despite being a hard worker, he was bedlam when it came to personal organization. It was part of his charm, I decided through my frustration, and everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses.

  It took as long to start seeing the first signs of Fenton’s vision coming to life. I ran my fingers along the gleaming wood of a live-edge table. It was a local find I’d pressured him into buying before he was ready. His words. The dining room wasn’t close to completion. He was at least another month away from needing furniture. Our esthetics couldn’t match after only working together for seven days.

  Seven days, and I felt like he knew me. Even when he didn’t want to admit it himself.

  He bought the piece. Along with a glass-front armoire and a tufted cotton headboard for the honeymoon suite.

  I hammered away whatever lingering frustration I felt about being fired on balancing his books, keeping his receipts in order and tightening the budget where I could. In that way, he and Rayne were similar. They bought more than they needed and left it up to the rest of the staff to figure out a way to make the math work.

  But the house was starting to come together. I stared at the fireplace in the main living room, uncovered beneath a layer of faux wood and plaster. Someone hadn’t wanted the mess, once upon a time. Now I felt like we’d uncovered a secret treasure. I imagined those long cool nights toward the end of autumn. When the days were shorter and colder. Days where it would be nice to curl up with your sweetie in front of a fire and listen to the crackling of the burning logs.

  I let my mind wander toward a certain dreamy someone, pen tapping on the papers I held in my hands. I would earn my spot in his world; I was determined. If it meant putting in long hours, I’d do it. And I’d put my foot down when his stubbornness kicked in. I was no stranger to either and good at both.

  “Your opinion so far? Be honest.”

  I tried not to jump at the sound of his voice from behind me. Hiding a secret smile, I busied myself with setting the papers aside and dusting off the mantle. “It needs work.”

  “It.” He rolled his tongue around the word and stepped into my line of vision. He’d taken to wearing short-sleeved shirts with the warmer weather. Sweet dampened the material beneath his armpits and around his collar. “Are you talking about the building? Or me?”

  “I’ll leave that for you to decide,” I answered. Then straightened to face him. “I think you have a good thing going here. It will be a beautiful place to stay if you can stay within your timeline.”

  All afternoon I’d fantasized about what to say to him, something that would capture his attention and intrigue him beyond his appreciation for my administrative skills. Seeing him now, everything I’d practiced in my head seemed inadequate.

  “I have a feeling my budget is about to experience a hemorrhage. We’ve had good luck so far, everything we’ve expected and no new surprises,” he admitted, thumbs hooked over his toolbelt. “My luck can’t hold out but so long.”

  “You’re the fearless sort. Don’t invite trouble wh
ere it isn’t welcome.” I tapped the book. “Give me another week with this and I’ll find money you didn’t know you had. I’ve already managed to increase your contingency fund by a good five thousand.”

  He pointed to a corner of the room I’d cleared to use for temporary storage. “Like you found this table, too.”

  I let him see the full force of my smile. “Yes, the table. How do you feel about it, now that you see it in person?”

  “I’m in love.”

  Ooh, he said the magic word and had my knees clacking together. “Maybe now you’ll learn to trust me.”

  Fenton moved closer and the instant connection I felt had my toes tingling. This was different, indeed. I liked him more than I was able to admit to myself. Working together cemented the feeling. I never wanted to lose the rhythm, the comfort I felt whenever he was around.

  His answer came slowly and had me thinking it was something he rarely admitted. “I’m not good with trust. Too many bad experiences and family drama. I might be a bit of a scaredy cat, in fact. Afraid of everything that can go wrong. Most times it does.”

  “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard.” I chuckled when his eyes widened. “A scaredy cat doesn’t dive into a reno project of this size and scope, without any kind of experience, without a big pair of…well, you know. You aren’t afraid. You like the risk.”

  He nodded slowly. “I like the risk.” Like he was testing how it sounded. “Maybe that’s part of the reason I hired you.”

  This was news to me. I blinked at him. “I’m not a risk. I’m a guaranteed win, sweetheart.”

  “I can see you’re good with customer relations. My suppliers have attested to it. I can also see you’re a jewel when it comes to filing, even if you did run through my office and tear it up worse than a funnel cloud. The men adore you, and you aren’t afraid of the work. The rest of it…I wasn’t sure,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I hope you’ve made up your mind at this point.”