She laughed, and for some reason, he felt a stupid surge of pride. Like he’d accomplished something amazing by making her laugh. “Here.” He extended the two antler pieces. “Can you hold these while I take the box back into the garage?”
As Jennica took the antlers, her fingers brushed lightly against his, sending a dart of something electric running up his arm, something warm and exciting.
He hurried to heft the box again, bracing his arms under it in case the bottom decided to disintegrate on his return trip. Thankfully, it held, and he maneuvered through the maze of stuff and returned it to the corner. As he straightened, he looked around and the dim light fell on something else, shrouded in dust and cobwebs.
Disbelief and excitement surged through him. “Is that a hydraulic press?” he asked.
There was no answer. Jennica was still outside.
Not daring to believe it, Jack quickly made his way to the door and asked the question again.
“A what?” Jennica asked as she followed him back inside the garage.
“A hydraulic press.” He pointed.
“Where?”
“In the corner, that gray thing. It looks like a Dake.” From where they were standing, he could just see the top of the squared-off frame, the gray paint almost completely obscured by grime, the familiar red label only faintly visible.
He picked his way carefully toward it to get a better look and caught his breath when he realized it was exactly what he’d suspected: a 25-ton Dake hydraulic press with a pressure sensor mounted on the front. Excitement buzzed through him. “Does it work?” he asked, turning to Jennica.
She’d only partially followed him through the maze in the garage and stood surrounded to her thighs by cardboard boxes and other junk. “I have no idea. Grandpa was always bringing home stuff he’d find at yard sales or the dump. I never saw him use it. What even is it?”
“A hydraulic press,” Jack said reverently. He reached out and used his thumb to brush the grime from the logo. A tool like this could double or even triple his production by doing the monotonous, heavy work of pounding out the heated steel for him, saving his energy and easing off on the aching shoulder. The promise of Damascus steel glimmered in his imagination. He bent and ran his fingers over the hydraulic hoses running from the motor. They were cracked and worn, but easily replaced.
“Do you think your grandma would sell this?” he asked as he stood back up.
Her forehead wrinkled. “Probably. Let’s go ask her.”
Chapter Four
As he followed Jennica to the house Jack’s mind churned with possibilities—Damascus steel in all kinds of patterns, heavier blades, and maybe he could even get into swords and axes. Cosplayers were paying hundreds for movie replicas and other fantasy items. He did the mental math while he followed Jennica up the back sidewalk and into the house, already dreaming of the day he could walk into the trailer that served as the office for the lumberyard and tell his boss he was quitting.
The back door opened to the kitchen, which was extremely dated, but clean. Chickens were everywhere—a ceramic cookie jar, printed on the curtains, plates hung on the soffit above the white cabinets, salt and pepper shakers on the ledge above the stove, kitchen towels, even the rug in front of the sink.
“She collects chicken-themed things,” Jennica explained needlessly in a slightly hushed tone. She waved her hand toward the kitchen table in the middle of the room. “Have a seat; I’ll see if she’s awake. Do you want anything to drink?”
“No thanks.” Jack shook his head as he sat down in one of the white vinyl chairs.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Jennica said. She disappeared around a corner, and he heard her calling softly for her grandma.
Jack took another look around the kitchen. It was small—the whole house was small—and definitely old and clearly hadn’t been updated in years. Some of the appliances could even be original to the house and he’d been right about the huge microwave. It sat on a rickety cart near the refrigerator. There was something heart-wrenching about this slowly decaying house, aging alongside the woman who lived here.
Jennica’s soft voice came from the doorway, and a moment later, she rounded the corner with a woman who moved slowly, leaning heavily on the arms of her aluminum walker. There were tennis balls on the legs of the walker, and she took one careful step, making sure to plant both feet firmly, before sliding the walker forward and readying herself for the next one. She wore a loose green dress and thick, flesh-colored tights along with sturdy, orthopedic shoes, and he could see bits of her scalp through the thin silvery hair that she wore teased into a cotton candy puff.
Jack jumped to his feet.
“This is my grandmother, Ruby O’Brien,” Jennica said. “Grandma, this is Jack Hale. He wants to talk to you about the press in the garage.”
Mrs. O’Brien peered at him through thick glasses and gave him a smile that looked surprisingly young. She had the same blue eyes as her granddaughter, though not quite as sparkling and bright. “Hello, Jack. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
There was a beat of silence and Jack sent a questioning look at Jennica. What did she mean by finally?
She shrugged.
“It’s nice to meet you too, ma’am,” Jack said, deciding to ignore her phrasing. He waited as the old woman settled slowly into one of the chairs before sitting back down himself.
“Did you offer your young man something to drink?” Mrs. O’Brien asked Jennica in what she clearly thought was a discreet whisper, but which carried throughout the room.
“Yes, Grandma.” Jennica’s mouth quirked at the corner. “He doesn’t want anything.”
“Okay, that’s fine.” Grandma Ruby reached out to pat Jack’s hand. Her palm was soft and cold and her skin had the thin, papery texture of the very old. “What can I do for you, young man?”
Young man. Jack had a rush of uncertainty, a cagey feeling that something wasn’t quite right. He shot a glance at Jennica.
“He wants to buy Papa’s … what is it again?” Jennica asked, directing her eyes to Jack.
“Hydraulic press,” he said.
“The one in the garage,” Jennica told her grandma.
“Press?”
“It’s a big gray rectangle, looks almost like a frame,” Jack clarified. “The brand name is Dake and it’s red and white, painted across the top.” He should have asked Jennica to take a picture of it with her phone.
After a moment, Mrs. O’Brien nodded. “Oh yes, that thing. Clark always collected too much stuff. It’s been sitting for years. Do you think it still works?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But it looked to be in pretty good shape.”
“Well, if you want it, go ahead and take it,” she said. “No use letting it go to waste. Do you need my help getting it out of there?” She braced one hand on the table and made a motion to rise, but sank back down as her arm began to tremble.
Jack shot another look at Jennica. Her pink lips where pressed in a tight line and her forehead was wrinkled in concern as she watched her grandmother. “Mrs. O’Brien, I’ve priced hydraulic presses, and one like that is around eight thousand dollars brand new. If it works, a used one is worth at least five thousand. I want to make you a fair offer.”
“Oh goodness, no,” she said, waving a hand airily. “It’s just taking up space and no one will ever use it. Take it if you need it.”
“I can’t do that.” He shook his head. “It’s a valuable piece of equipment.”
“Nonsense.” She reached out and patted his hand again. “Consider it an early wedding present if you must.”
Jack’s pulse ratcheted up a notch. This was going nowhere good. “Wedding?”
“Grandma, you’re thinking of Collette,” Jennica cut in. “She’s the one getting married, not me.”
“Oh.” The old woman’s eyes went cloudy. “I’m sorry. I seem to do that lately.”
Jack’s heart ached for the raw pain on her face. H
e put his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.
“Good, then it’s settled. Josh, dear, you can take the press now and tell me if you can get it working at Collette’s wedding next week.”
Josh?
Jennica’s mouth went even thinner, and she gave him an imploring look that he understood immediately. Don’t make it worse.
“All right,” he said gently, then on impulse, leaned in to place a quick kiss to the wrinkled cheek. “You’re very generous, Mrs. O’Brien.”
“Call me Grandma Ruby,” she said. “Everyone does.”
“Okay, Grandma Ruby,” Jack said.
She let out a satisfied chuckle and reached up to tug at his beard with gentle fingers. “I hope you’re not planning to get married with that. I know wedding days are all about the bride, but everyone should see your handsome face too.”
“I’ll take care of it, Grandma,” Jennica broke in quickly. “I need to get to work, but can I get you anything first?”
“Oh no, dear,” Grandma said. “I think I’ll sit here for a few minutes and enjoy the morning.”
“Okay. Call me if you need anything,” Jennica said. She gave her grandmother a quick kiss on the check and led Jack outside.
Once they were out of Grandma’s hearing, Jennica sighed. “I’m sorry. She’s in the beginning stages of dementia, and some days she’s worse than others. I haven’t seen her that bad before, though, or I would have warned you.”
“Why did she call me Josh, and what was that about a wedding next week?”
Jennica’s shoulders drooped. “Josh is my ex,” she said with a heavy sigh. “The one who dumped me at the resort. I haven’t told Grandma yet.”
“Why not?”
“She’ll be so disappointed. After Collette, I’m the last single grandchild, so I think she’s hoping I’ll get married before she … before her mind slips much more.” She chewed on her lower lip and wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Sympathy welled in Jack. His grandparents had all died when he was young and he didn’t have many memories of them, but he could see the love and pain mingled on Jennica’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She nodded and cleared her throat.
Jack’s arms ached with a sudden desire to reach for her, to pull her close and hold her. To smooth away the worry that put a wrinkle between her eyebrows and press a kiss to her hair.
He took a step back. “Uh, thanks for the antlers,” he finally said. He gathered them up from where Jennica had left them on the ground and turned to go. “Oh, wait.” He stopped. “You need a ride back to the store.”
Jennica cast a look toward the dark garage. “What about the press?”
Jack shook his head. “I’m not taking that.”
“Why not? She gave it to you.”
“Jennica, she’s a sweet lady, but you said yourself that her mind is slipping. It would feel like taking advantage, and I’m not going to do that.”
Jennica’s cornflower-blue eyes were steady. “She’ll remember. Maybe not right away, but eventually she’ll ask me how it’s working for you and she’ll be offended if you didn’t take it.”
He paused and threw a glance toward the house. Was Grandma Ruby watching from behind her chicken-printed curtains? “Maybe you can tell her it’s working great. She doesn’t go into the garage, does she?”
“You want me to lie to her?”
He blew out a frustrated breath. Why was he suddenly involved in this? All he’d wanted were a few sheds. But the press would make a huge difference, could be an answer to his prayers.
“How about …” Jennica paused, then took a big breath. “How about you go to Collette’s wedding with me next weekend, and we’ll call it even?”
It took a moment for her meaning to sink in. “You want me to go as Josh, your fiancé?”
“No.” Jennica shook her head. “But as my date, so I don’t have to go alone. And Grandma will be happy to see me there with someone and won’t fret so much about it, so you’ll be doing both of us a favor.”
A date with Jennica. He’d enjoyed her company so far. No, more than enjoyed it. She was fun, lively, interesting. He wondered what it would feel like to hold her in his arms, to be close enough to smell her hair, to press his lips to her full mouth.
But he didn’t date, hadn’t in a long time. He’d made that choice many years ago. “I don’t date,” he said firmly.
Her pink lips formed a small “oh” as she studied him for a minute, squinting in the morning sunlight. “You don’t like women? Sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s not that,” Jack broke in. “I do like women. I just …” He stopped, frustrated. There were too many painful memories there, memories that were better left buried. “I don’t want a relationship,” he finally said.
Her face brightened. “Great! Neither do I. I just want to go to my cousin’s wedding without being hassled all day because I’m there alone. And everyone will know someone who they’ll think is perfect for me, and after this whole Josh thing, I’m ready to take a break from dating and definitely don’t want to be set up with anyone.”
There was a long pause, and he imagined what it would be like for her, spending all day fending off suggestions from meddlesome relatives.
“One date?” he asked.
“One fake date,” she clarified.
“Are you required to have a date at this wedding?”
“No, but I already reserved a plus-one and I’m going to feel really stupid there by myself with an empty chair next to me. My mother will never let me hear the end of it.”
He frowned. “Wouldn’t she rather have you alone than with someone for the wrong reasons?”
“Ha!” What was obviously supposed to be a lighthearted laugh came out harsh, scraping painfully. “Josh is an orthodontist in Great Falls,” she finally said quietly. “My mother was already talking about what cute babies we’d make. She will definitely not rather have me there alone.”
Jack blew out a long breath. Jennica’s eyes hinted at the pressure she was under. “I’d like to help you, but that doesn’t seem to do much for your grandma, and she’s the one with the press.”
She waved a hand toward the house. “You heard her: she thinks I’m still with Josh. I think she’d be happy to know I’m not alone.”
He stared around the overgrown yard, mind churning. “Okay, how about this … the press in exchange for one fake date, and I’ll trim those overhanging branches.” He jerked his chin skyward to where the dead limbs of the spruce trees hung over the roof of the little house.
Relief washed over Jennica’s face. “Are you serious? I’ve been worried about those for so long. But that seems like a lot of work.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “But that’s an expensive press and worth it to me.”
“If it works,” she reminded him.
“I’m willing to take the risk,” he said. “What do you say?”
She chewed on her lower lip for a minute. “You said a new press would be in the eight-thousand-dollar range?”
He nodded hesitantly, not sure where she was going with this.
“So how about the press, plus any spare parts it might have lying around, plus the whole box of antlers in the garage, in exchange for one fake date and a tree trimming. But …” She sent him a calculating look. “Will you shave?”
His fingers went automatically to his chin. “I’ve been working on this beard a long time.”
“Not shave entirely. But will you trim it?”
“How much of a trim?”
“So it looks more rugged mountain man and less scary hermit?”
“Scary hermit?” He tugged at the long whiskers.
“Well … it is pretty scraggly.”
“You think I’m a scary hermit?”
“No. I said you looked like one,” Jennica clarified.
Jack sighed and stroked his beard again. Yeah, it had taken a long time to get it to this stage, but h
air would grow back. “Okay, fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll trim.”
A smile sprang to Jennica’s lips, and she held out one hand. “It’s a deal.”
He took her small fingers in his, conscious that his were grimy from the garage and covered in calluses, but she didn’t seem to mind. She smiled wider and squeezed his hand, and the pressure of her fingers seemed to go all the way to his heart, leaving a trail burning up his arm.
Chapter Five
Okay, she’d basically bribed a guy to be her date for Collette’s wedding by promising him Grandpa’s old equipment. Not one of her finest moments, but Jennica didn’t care. The relief at not having to be the only single woman of marriageable age more than outweighed the little bit of guilt she felt at misleading her family. At the end of the day, Jack would have his press, Grandma would have her trees trimmed, and Jennica would have her mother off her back for at least a few more weeks.
It was a win/win/win as far as she was concerned.
Besides, a date with Jack Hale had never been on her wish list before last night, but now … she felt butterflies tingling in her stomach. Yeah, he was pretty scruffy, but he was fun too. At least there was a chance she could have a good time at this wedding instead of simply enduring it.
She leaned her elbows on the counter at TR’s and idly watched as a dad with two little kids tried out the fishing poles. The kids couldn’t be more than two and four—an older boy and younger sister.
The door opened, and she looked up, startled to see Jack coming into the store. Jennica’s heart stuttered as dread raced through her. He’d dropped her off less than twenty minutes ago. Was he back to call the whole thing off?
“Forget something?” she asked.
“Yeah. I forgot to ask you what I wear to this wedding.”
A smile sprang to her lips, along with the relief that he was taking this seriously. “Do you have a suit?”
He raised his heavy brows. “I think I saw one of those white tuxedos like the Osmonds used to wear in your Grandma’s garage. It had wide lapels and maybe even some sequins. That’d be pretty sweet.”
Taming the Mountain Man (Tamarack Ridge Romances Book 3) Page 4
