Chad’s presence darkened at her blatant dismissal, and the tape measure whirred and clattered back up into the roll in his hand -- the connection between them abruptly severed.
Julia’s head swam. She knew she should say something, collect her wits, and get past the fact that he was a man. Mostly, she knew she should be able to do the simple math to see if the hutch was too wide, but the digits wouldn’t line up in her mind. Some were blurry and others disappeared completely. She couldn’t add or divide in her head anymore, even when she wasn’t horribly distracted and muddled.
Annoyed, Chad appeared to have no idea of the visual journey he’d swept Julia into as he waited for her to respond to his comments.
Retreating a step, Julia floundered. She was used to being self-possessed, as well as good at math; however, nowadays she needed a pencil, paper, and a calculator. Maybe even a cold shower.
She rubbed at the side of her hand. This was exactly the reason she wanted to hide away from people for the rest of her life. How was she supposed to respond? Tell him to back off because she couldn’t do elementary math, let alone string two words together to form coherent conversation while he was in the room?
Sensing Julia’s distress, unease flickered across Chad’s face. “It’s okay, you don’t have to center the sink, or maybe you could take off a baseboard or something to try and even it up. It’s only a few inches.”
Obviously unsure of what was going on in her mind, only aware of her paling complexion, Chad glanced down to clip the tape back on his belt. “Are you okay?” he asked, one brow up.
Julia realized that he assumed she was upset about the hutch fitting, but she had no idea how many inches it was off. Attempting to laugh, she shrugged. “You’re right. What’s a few inches?” But her voice was thin and shaky.
She grappled to focus and regain some sense of where she stood. The room felt too tight and Chad was definitely too close, invading her personal space. Once again, her throat closed and her vision blurred at the edges as sadness and humiliation overwhelmed her.
A small part of her wanted Chad to reach for her, hold her, and tell her it was fine to be turned on and assure her that it didn’t matter if she couldn’t do math in her head, that she was still a whole person, a vital woman. But a far larger and more insistent voice in her head screamed, Stay back, don’t trust, protect yourself! Desperate for somewhere to run, she stepped to the window as if to gauge the space but grabbed the sill for balance.
Bobby clomped into the kitchen, the cat at his heels. “What’s going on? Are we going to move stuff or not?”
* * *
Hesitating for a moment longer, Chad searched Julia’s face, desperate for a clue as to what she was thinking. The woman was one overwhelming, undulating riddle, ice cold with red hot undercurrents, harsh and haughty but with sadness and heartbreak in her eyes.
Bobby glanced between Julia and Chad, then bent to pick up the cat and run his grubby glove along its back as it nuzzled his cheek.
Seemingly shocked by the cat’s uncharacteristic affection for the thin nervous man, Julia stood silent like a statue, watching.
Chad grunted and then turned and motioned for Bobby to follow. Striding to the truck, without looking back and mumbling under his breath, Chad was beyond irritated that Julia got so far under his skin. Usually distant with women, he was uncharacteristically picking up vibes of emotion from her, strong and distinct sensations, but then she reacted opposite to his expectations.
Most of the women he’d found appealing were motivated by fashion, fun, or money, and were emotionally volatile. There was never a question of what they were thinking or feeling. He was able to read what they wanted from him, and he responded in kind.
Julia, on the other hand, liked dirty old sinks and ancient china hutches, and she managed to remain a blank to him 99% of the time. Her dark luminous eyes were larger and deeper than most, and her thoughts were a mystery to him. Just when he thought he was getting something from her, she made sure he knew he was way off base.
In the kitchen a moment ago, he’d felt the strongest need to take her in his arms and assure her that the sink would turn out fine yet that appeared to be the last thing she wanted. Why was he so far off the mark? She was feeling one thing, and his gut response was completely opposite. When had his woman-reading skills gotten so far off track? Had he spent too much time out of commission, fighting his own demons?
He scoffed under his breath. Either way, he’d keep his distance. He didn’t need the frustration. Besides, he’d always gone for more flashy women -- the kind that made his pulse speed up at first sight, not the kind that rolled around in the back of his mind and kept him awake at night trying to figure them out. The deep ones were complicated. He’d had enough hurdles in the last few years; he didn’t need more.
Interrupting his thoughts, Bobby shuffled up next to Chad. “What do you wanna take next?”
Chad stared blankly into the truck.
Knocking his elbow into Chad’s side, Bobby tried again. “Hey, what’s up with you?”
Shrugging him off, Chad scowled. “I’m thinking. We can’t take a bunch of stuff into the kitchen, because she wants to finish the floors and move plumbing.”
The little man’s chest puffed out and he sniffed. “Yeah, I told her the sink should go under the window. I told you she likes me. She knows good advice when she hears it. And I told her we knew how to redo her floors too.”
“You did, huh?”
Bobby nodded confidently and pushed up the corner of his glasses with his knuckle. “She don’t seem to like you much though. I’ll try to help you get on her good side if I can.”
Chad smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. As a matter of fact, it looked more like a sneer. “Let’s get this other hutch carried in. We’ll leave it in the living room next to the other one for now.”
Bobby agreed and they tugged the heavy furniture from the truck.
* * *
An hour later, the truck was empty, and the house looked much closer to a home. The men had placed the big iron bed in the bedroom and a steamer trunk at the foot. A dresser with a mirror on top graced the far wall, and Ringo’s bed was nestled in the corner. The dining room contained the farm table and chairs, and the living room had the two hutches and large, scarred butcher block that would all go to the kitchen. The lone, broken-down counter in the kitchen was stacked with boxes of china, and the garden bench rested under a tree in the front yard.
Julia stood on the porch watching Chad sit on the bench, testing its stability. He stood and adjusted it to one side and tried it again. He barely fit on the small piece, his broad shoulders taking up most of the sitting space. As he laughed with Bobby, dappled sun spotted his dark hair and T-shirt through the budding tree. The sound of the men bantering, the very essence of merriment flowing across the empty yard, felt alien and delicious. Abruptly, Julia turned, not willing to be drawn into the warmth and dropped the screen behind her with a bang.
Chad knocked on the door a moment later.
Vigilantly withdrawn, she pushed open the screen.
“Hey, I have a few forms here for you to sign.” He smiled down at her, his gaze falling over her as he handed over the paperwork on a clipboard.
She glanced up through her lashes, then concentrated on signing the paperwork. For a moment, she stared at her signature. The name scrawled on the paper still didn’t look right to her. Her handwriting had not yet regained the confident fluid lines it’d had before. They’d warned her that it probably never would.
Chad interrupted her thoughts. “Bobby tells me you could use some help with your floors.”
Jolted from her musing, Julia’s cool gaze lifted to his. His smile faltered but held, and he waited for her to reply.
She had no idea what was involved in refinishing a floor, but she assumed it must require strength and bending, neither of which she did well. Like most things in her life now, she would need help, but did she want to be vulnerable and a
wkward in front of this man?
“Well, I—yes, I suppose I do.” She sighed.
He tipped his head, trying to read her expression. “I’m not trying to crowd you, just wanted to offer a hand.”
“No, that’s very nice of you,” she said, “but I’m not sure how to approach this. I need to talk to Mac about the plumbing and— can I get back to you?” She hoped her expression revealed gratitude without showing any questionable interest.
He stuffed the clipboard under his arm and stepped back. “Sure, you know where to find me.”
She smiled evenly, disappointed that she’d botched accepting his offer, and lifted her hand as he turned away. Sighing, she let the old door spring closed with a soft thump as she watched Chad walk across the yard and round the front of the truck. She’d been forced to accept help with practically every part of her life and her desire to be independent, to live where others wouldn’t see her daily struggle, was proving more difficult than she’d imagined.
Turning to glance across the living room, Julia felt her heart calm, ruffle, then calm and fill with contentment at the sight of the old furniture. Ambling to the hutches, she smoothed her hand along the front of the upper glass doors. They were beautiful, old, heavy pieces, deeper at the base with lower panel front cabinet doors, a drawer over each, and a butcher-block counter between the top and bottom cupboards. They were charmingly ancient, yet spotless and fresh, ready for dishes and food. The faded blue of the drawer fronts had a mellow, greenish tint that went well with the mint hue of the white milky paint covering the rest of the piece.
As she turned to the heavily scarred and slightly lopsided butcher block standing on thick legs by the hutches, her lips gently curved. Who knew where it had come from or the life it had had?
Having had only modern shiny appliances and furnishings in the past, the idea of obtaining pieces with a story to tell was new and appealing to her. This was good. Everything was different here, nothing familiar. She didn’t feel as if she had to remember, because she knew for a fact that she’d never loved an old butcher block.
Collecting the magazines Becky had given her the day before, she wandered to the porch, holding the screen open for Ringo. She settled into a wicker chair, opened a magazine, then let it drop to her lap as she gazed across her yard to the bench under the tree. Ringo lay at the edge of the porch, his brows lifting -- one, then the other, as he watched her. Birds sang in the trees, and a train horn blew in the distance. A light breeze lifted and teased Julia’s blond curls. Drawing in a deep breath, she smiled. She was home, and with a little commitment, the place was starting to take shape.
Chad wove into her thought and her brow creased. He was definitely handsome and sexy, and he seemed considerate and polite enough – maybe too much. She needed the help, but should she spend a day, or however long it took to refinish a floor, working beside him? She wasn’t limber or agile in any way, and she was bound to do something stupid and embarrassing in front of Chad. Sanding must be involved, and no matter how it was accomplished, she’d have to see the man’s arms and chest tense and flex as he worked. He’d smile at her with his warm crinkly eyes and rub his chin, offer his thoughts, and undoubtedly draw her in like the tide under the moon.
Pushing the unsettling thoughts aside, she shook out the magazine and turned her attention to the pictures of kitchens.
* * *
The moving truck backed into the parking spot beside the old gas station office, and Bobby jumped out and headed toward the building. As Chad collected the clipboard and locked the truck, thoughts of Julia poured through his mind. Her voice, her jeans across her slim behind, her hands, her hair. Her smell.
He slammed the truck door, banishing her from further consideration. He’d help her where he could, he thought, as he strode toward the office. After all, she was a woman alone and his momma had raised him right, but he’d be damned if he’d allow her to get him all twisted up.
The way she’d stared at the receipt back there, like she doubted he’d delivered everything, got on his last nerve. Did she not trust him? Shrugging off his irritation, he pulled the mail from the box on the front of the shop and sorted through it absently. Opening the door, he tossed the mail on the counter and decided he was hungry. He waited for Bobby to grab his keys, then locked the door behind them and headed for the cafe.
Walking the two blocks to Marge’s place, Chad whistled a tune as the warm spring sunshine gleamed across his dark hair. He’d done it -- he’d pushed that woman from his mind. He was going to have some good food, and then maybe he’d call up Gloria and see if she wanted to head to Uniontown tonight for a movie.
Bells jingled over the door as he entered the café, interrupting the instrumental rendition of Norwegian Wood pumping from the jukebox. The smell of cooking grease and Pine-Sol filled his nostrils as he sucked in a deep breath of hometown memories.
Marge, who’d looked the same for as long as he could remember, glanced up from behind the chrome-rimmed counter and nodded a greeting, her bouffant hair bobbing. He lifted a hand to reply, heading for a red vinyl and chrome stool, then noticed Gloria sitting at a booth. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered. Smoothly, he dropped into the booth across from her. “Hey beautiful, what’s up?”
Gloria giggled and tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, her eyes flashing as she batted her lashes. “Nothin’, what’s up with you, handsome?”
“Just here for some lunch,” he replied, reaching for a menu. “How’s your granddad?”
Her expression darkened. “He stays busy with the nursery, but that guy keeps comin’ around. You know, the one who wants to buy his place?”
Chad froze, his hand holding the menu in mid-air over the salt and peppershakers. “He’s been there again? I wonder if he’s been back to bother Bobby’s momma too.”
She shrugged. “I’ll tell Grandpa you asked after him.”
Marge paced to the table and cocked a hip, her pencil hovering over her note pad. “What’ll you have, sugar?”
Tucking the menu back behind the ketchup bottle, Chad looked up. “Hey Marge, how’s the meat loaf today?”
Marge made a face and glanced down to brush imaginary dust off her pristine, pink, ’50s-style uniform.
Chad’s brows went up and he laughed. “Okay then, I guess a tuna melt would be good.”
She nodded and scribbled on the pad. “And a coke?”
He nodded and the older woman headed back behind the counter. Gloria reached across the table and took Chad’s hand in hers. He couldn’t help but notice that her long, red, square-tipped nails were exactly the same color as her lips. Had he liked long nails and dark red lips? Compared to Julia’s petite hands and pale translucent complexion, Gloria seemed made up and overblown. Her hands resembled claws more than fingers. He shook his head to clear it and withdrew his hand.
Gloria’s brows rose. She pulled her hands into her lap and squirmed on the booth bench, causing her perfume to waft across the table. Regrouping, she smoothed her hand over the back of her hair. “I hear you’ve been moving our newest resident the last few days.”
He frowned. Could he not get away from that woman? “Yeah, she’s from New York City.”
Gloria sipped her Coke, her red lips pursed around the straw, glancing at him through her lashes. After several sips, she leaned back into the bench. “Becky says she’s a tiny little thing, and shy.”
Chad nodded.
“Bobby told me she had almost no furniture.” Her hands clasped on the tabletop. “I wonder what her story is.” Her eyes were large and her expression animated.
He wanted to squirm but didn’t. “I don’t know.”
Her eyes flashed. “I wonder if she’s running from something, you know, like an abusive husband or something.”
The hairs on the back of Chad’s neck stood up. “She didn’t say anything.”
Gloria giggled and tossed her long hair over her shoulder, one hand spreading in front of her like a vista. “Just thin
k, one day, after an extensive Internet search and hiring three private detectives, he’ll find her and drive into town wanting some kind of horrible revenge. The Sheriff Deputy will intervene with lights and sirens blaring, and we’ll finally have some excitement around here.”
Chad’s spine stiffened, and he glared across the table. “I don’t think we need that kind of excitement.”
She scoffed and flounced. “Sorry, don’t get your knickers in a snit, I’m just sayin’, who knows what her story is. Could be anything.”
Struggling to remain calm, Chad slouched in the booth. “Yeah—”
She regarded him over the table for a moment, then changed her tack. “Hey, you wanna go see a movie tonight? I bought a new sundress I’m dying to break in.” Her lashes fluttered again.
He could visualize a low-cut dress, fitting taut around her ample curves, and his fingers itched. He and Gloria had dated on and off, but...
Gloria leaned across the booth to reach for a napkin, pressing her generous cleavage onto the table for him to enjoy.
His stomach turned. “I don’t think I can tonight. I have some paperwork to finish.”
She shrugged and glanced down, her brow puckered in thought. Her feelings were obviously hurt. “Okay, just thought we could have some fun. It’s been a while.” She shrugged one shoulder.
Marge placed a sandwich and fries in front of Chad, the glass plate clattering and breaking the tension at the table. Glancing between them, she tapped her toe and her left eyebrow went up.
No one said a word as Chad lifted the sandwich and took a huge bite like a starving man, oblivious to the steam rising off it.
Marge glanced out the front window and then stared hard at Chad as he chewed, her mind clearly spinning. She didn’t know everything about everybody in town for no reason. She picked up signals, and Chad being unaffected by Gloria was definitely new.
Searching his face and finding him lost in thought, Marge had warning bells clanging loudly in her mind and her expression made it clear. Could it be that something, or someone, was finally going to pierce the facade he’d hidden behind the last few years? Marge’s eyes met Gloria’s, and the younger woman’s confusion was apparent.
Hometown Series Box Set Page 32
