Carpentry and Cocktails
Green Valley Library Book #5
Nora Everly
www.smartypantsromance.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
About the Author
Sneak Peek: Love in Deed by L.B. Dunbar, Book #6 in the Green Valley Library Series
Also by Nora Everly
Also by Smartypants Romance
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, rants, facts, contrivances, and incidents are either the product of the author’s questionable imagination or are used factitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or undead, events, locales is entirely coincidental if not somewhat disturbing/concerning.
Copyright © 2020 by Smartypants Romance; All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, photographed, instagrammed, tweeted, twittered, twatted, tumbled, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without explicit written permission from the author.
Made in the United States of America
eBook Edition
Chapter One
Willa
“’Til death do us part. That means something to me, Willa.”
Tommy
Bang, Bam, Smash
Unfortunately, I was not a character in a comic book. Nor was I leisurely reading one while loafing around in bed. No, I had buried myself under my covers with a pillow wrapped around my ears, trying not to wake all the way up as the incessant pounding of the hammer outside my tiny basement apartment hit the crap out of something nearby.
Bam, Crash, Bang
Gritting my teeth, I snarled into the pillow. He was at it again. Blindly reaching out, I grabbed another pillow, added it to the pile atop my head, then rolled to my stomach. My head had hit this pillow at four a.m. I was not ready to get out of bed and be a fully functioning human. Or even a semi-functional one, which was my usual baseline.
Early birds were fine with me—I had nothing against them as a general life rule—but as a bartender/waitress I was up late almost every night. Therefore, this noisy, pounding bullshit going on outside my window when I was trying to sleep was unacceptable. I mean, he should know better. I reached an arm out and fumbled around for my cell phone to check the time.
It was dead.
I tossed it away, the useless piece of crap. It bounced off the mattress to land on the carpeted floor with an unsatisfying soft thump. I would have thrown it harder, but I was too broke to buy another one.
I flopped over onto my back and threw the pillow across the room. It was no use; between the banging hammer and the stupid daylight shining in my windows to assault me through my eyelids I’d never get back to sleep.
I sat up and looked around for my phone to plug it in. Freaking dead phone, freaking stupid daylight, and freaking Everett, who was outside building something or fixing something. He was probably out there being all hot and industrious and useful—and shirtless, which seemed to be his preference—while he worked on stuff around his house. His huge, beautiful old Colonial fixer-upper where I rented a furnished apartment in his walk-out basement. Damn him and his stupid, sexy handyman schtick.
Everett Monroe.
My landlord. My friend? My complication I did not need at this messed up juncture in my screwed-up disaster of a life. With a snarl I tossed the covers back.
Shower.
Coffee.
Attitude adjustment?
I got out of bed just in time to hear a knock on my door. Shoving my crazy blonde curls out of my eyes, I scowled at that door, then stuck my tongue out at it. He was probably about to tell me he had made more of his delicious coffee and had doughnuts from Daisy’s Nut House waiting on the kitchen table upstairs. Freaking friendly Everett, always inviting me to breakfast and making it so hard to resist him.
Men are a complication I refused to need, or even want. I’d had enough of that crap to last a lifetime. Running away from home at age seventeen and marrying your twenty-two-year-old boyfriend could do that to a girl. I no longer trusted myself to do the right thing. And I wanted to do Everett, real bad.
Maybe he could be the right thing… NOPE.
“Willard are you up?” he called as he knocked. Everett never called me Willa. Or honey, sweetie, darlin’, or even babe. He was too cute and funny for that kind of basic bull-crap. He made up ridiculous variations of my name and almost charmed me out of my panties every single time he came up with a new one.
“Yeah, I’m up. Someone was bangin’ around on something outside and woke me up.” I shouted at the closed door.
“Sorry about that. There’s coffee and doughnuts upstairs. And, it’s noon. Rise and shine Willie Bean, it’s time to get up.” He tapped my door once more and laughed. I heard his footsteps retreating and stuck my tongue out at the door again.
I ran over to my window to sneak a peek.
Yep, just as I’d thought. No shirt.
Damn.
He was in low-slung jeans with a T-shirt sticking out of his back pocket. His tanned skin was shiny with sweat as his back muscles bunched and unbunched, flexing with glorious rippling waves as he swung a huge ax over his head. Everett was splitting logs out there. He had dragged out his fire pit last weekend to place in the rear of his property, near the forest. I may have peeped on him then too; don’t judge. Why couldn’t he just go out and buy firewood like a normal person?
Rude.
I gulped and stepped back before he could catch me staring at him like a creepy, horny pervert.
Oh, eff it. Who was I trying to kid? I was totally a creepy, horny pervert.
I ran to the other window so I could catch a view from the front. I could sell tickets to this shit and probably make enough money to quit my job. Then I could sleep at night like everybody else and not feel like a cranky bitch all the time.
The front of Everett was just as good as the back. Debatably better because of his face and beard. Not to mention his perfectly not-too-hairy chest with its happy trail that led straight down through his magnificent abs into those low-slung jeans and toward what I liked to imagine was a very good time. In fact, I frequently imagined it. And it was very good.
He lifted an arm to swipe across his brow, flexing that huge bicep as his arm bent. It was almost as if he knew I was watching him. This was like something out of a commercial for after-shave or energy drinks or male strippers. Bending over, he grabbed a bottle of water from the ground, uncapped it, took a sip, then tilted his head back and poured it over his head, letting the water run down his gorgeously glistening broad chest.
Huh?
He shook his head, drops of water flew to the sides as he waved and blew a kiss at me.
“Ahhhhh!” I screamed and
ran for the bathroom. I swear I could hear him laughing at me from outside.
Shit, crap, damn.
Busted.
Well, it wasn’t the first time, and I doubted it would be the last. I stopped running and started stomping. Who did he think he was, anyway? The big, hot, wannabe lumberjack buttweasel. I sailed through my shower and getting-ready routine on righteous winds of indignation. So I’d been peeping at him. So what?
I’d caught him checking me out more than one time too. I pursed my lips and added some pink lip balm, giving myself a kissy face in the mirror. Yeah, he totally wanted a piece of old Willard. And as an old great song once said, he was “Never Gonna Get It.”
I slipped into my flip-flops and cautiously ventured out my front door, peering left and right and across the backyard, on the lookout for Everett and his gorgeous bare chest. One sighting of that per day was all I could take. I was only human, dang it. I was in pretty serious danger of tackling him and riding him like a bull at the rodeo for Pete’s sake.
I inhaled deeply. The unseasonably cool spring air made me want to blow off work, head upstairs with some of his freshly chopped wood and build a fire in that huge brick fireplace he’d just finished restoring. Toasted marshmallows and some warm and cozy ambiance would be awesome right about now. Brisk spring days in Green Valley, Tennessee, were one of the things I had missed when I was gone.
I had been away for too long…
I sighed and made my way to Everett’s back door. A doughnut hit-and-run and a cup of coffee would have to do. My fantasy-filled thoughts of getting snuggly with Everett, his wood, a fire, and some cocoa were becoming way too tempting—because on top of all that sexiness, he was a sweetheart too. Nice guys like Everett were dangerous. Every girl knows that men like him were the most trouble, because they’d steal your heart all stealthy-like and before you knew it, you’d be sitting on his couch, watching TV while he cooked you a nice dinner. Then there goes your heart, right along with your undies, and boom, you’re done for. Goodness like that was not meant for the likes of me. I would never risk my heart like that ever again. My divorce was barely final anyway. I needed time to…to…to what?
I just needed time to be alone. Probably forever. I was bad at love. And even worse at making good choices.
I climbed the steps and stopped on the covered brick back porch that ran the length of the house. He’d just finished rebuilding it, and it was beautiful. Made by a man who built things instead of tearing them apart. I blew out a sigh as I turned in a slow circle to admire his handiwork. The brick was original; he’d cleaned it and replaced the broken ones. But it was the woodwork that stole the show. Everett was a carpenter, but it went beyond that—he was an artsy-fartsy carpenter. The columns had leaves and vines carved in winding, meandering trails up and around the wood and along the little arches that lined the covered part of the porch. He’d stained it so the leaves and vines were darker and stood out. It was the prettiest porch I’d ever seen.
“Coffee’s still hot.” His deep voice startled me.
I jumped and spun around with a gasp.
He stood, hips against the corner of the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and watching me through the open window. A white T-shirt stretched across his broad sculpted chest, which was easier to handle than when he was shirtless. Except that it almost wasn’t. It clung in all the right places, like highlighter over your favorite parts of a book. I took a deep breath and headed for the gorgeous new French doors to let myself inside.
“Hey,” I said and tried to prevent my elevator eyes from running up and down his tall form. And I meant tall. I’d hit six feet when I was twelve. Everett topped me by at least five inches, but I was not about to get close enough to him to get an exact measurement.
“Hey.” His honey colored brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he unleashed a gorgeous white smile on me. Complete with not just one, but two adorable, kissable—fuckable?—dimples.
Gah! Why did he have to be so hot? And nice? And make such great coffee? And always invite me to freaking share it with him? But more importantly, why did I keep saying yes?
My nose scrunched up.
“You’re a like a ray of midnight, Willard. How many shades of black are you wearing today?” His smile shifted sideways as he teased me and his frickin’ beautiful eyes twinkled in the sunlight shining through the window.
“I’ll change my color palette when I find something darker,” I shot back along with my best don’t-mess-with-me smirk.
He gestured to my black “Genie’s Bar” tank top, under my open black cardigan, atop my black leggings. “Working early?” he asked, unaffected by the power of my smirk armor.
“Not until later. Saturday night is the best night for tips.”
Saturday nights were always crazy at Genie’s, a country western bar in town. It was the place to be for your wholesome line dancing and friendly-hookup needs. Those that wanted to skip the dancing and head straight for the hooking up headed to The Wooden Plank. And those with a taste for venereal diseases and hostile bikers headed to The Dragon Biker Bar, home of the Iron Wraith’s biker club, located right outside of town. When I got back to Green Valley, I headed straight to Genie’s to apply for a job. I’d been working in bars since the age of twenty-one and I’d learned the hard way which kind to avoid. Plus, Genie was my aunt and I was not above using family connections to land a job.
Everett gestured to the coffeepot and the container of hazelnut creamer sitting next to it—my favorite. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you. You make the best coffee.” I poured a cup, added a healthy splash of the creamer and took a sip, closing my eyes involuntarily. Yum.
I opened them to find his eyes burning into mine. I had caught him looking at me like that a few times before—eyes heated, hooded, full of sex—but the look always disappeared just as fast as I caught it. I was probably projecting my own dirty thoughts onto him.
Quit imagining things.
My eyebrows raised over my mug as he quickly turned away and placed his own mug in the sink.
He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out low and husky, “So, uh—there are doughnuts on the table. Help yourself. I’m going to shower.” He opened his mouth again as if to say something else. The silence hung in the air between us like invisible strings pulling us closer. But then he closed his mouth and looked away. And I refused to let myself say anything more to him, so whatever that moment was, it ended.
I loved listening to his smoky, sexy voice. I wished I could talk to him all day just to hear the sound of it. But the more I talked to him, the more I fell into like with him and I couldn’t have that. So, I kept quiet and watched him walk away instead.
“Bye…” I whispered to his back as he turned and headed up the kitchen staircase. I would not imagine him all naked and slippery with soap in the shower…
I should have just stayed in my camper van at the Walmart parking lot in Merryville. Being semi-homeless was almost easier. With a twist of the key I could drive away from my problems. Escape. Sometimes I wanted to do just that. But my family and my best friend were here in Green Valley, and I wanted them to trust me. But mostly, I wanted somewhere to belong again. Plus, I had a job I actually liked for a change. Running away is what got me into this mess. It was time to rediscover the roots I’d left behind and attempt to start over.
No more running.
Chapter Two
Everett
“You only have one life, Everett. Follow your heart, but make sure to take your brain along for the ride.”
Papaw Joe
With a smile, I shoved open the door to the dusty old retail space I’d just taken over on Main Street. Finally, it was all mine. It was almost too big, but it would suit my purposes just fine.
“So, what do you think?” I gestured grandly to the room as I crossed the wood floor. I turned in a wide circle to take it all in. My youngest brother, Garrett, had followed me inside only to stop and stare out the front win
dow into Stripped, Suzie Samuels’ dance studio across the street. Back in high school I’d had a huge crush on her, but before I got up the nerve to do something about it, she’d hooked up with Jethro Winston. She was just the first of many in a long line of women who weren’t interested in what I had to offer. A geek was a geek, no matter what the outside looked like.
“I know I’m not the smoothest guy. But what do you think my chances are? With that brunette? Or that one? Or any of them—damn.” Garrett still hadn’t removed his eyes from the candy in the window across the street. He was full of crap. He was smoother than the sidewalk in January—meaning he was cool as ice and slick as anything—and ladies loved him.
“Slim to none,” I answered with a light smack to the back of his head. “Show some respect, man. You’re not at the Pink Pony. Pole fitness is not the same as pole dancing in a strip club. And even then, you can’t assume. Don’t be that guy, Garrett. We hate that guy.”
“I was just looking. Mom would have my ass if I went across the street and acted a fool. And shit, don’t tell her I was at the Pink Pony.” His look of horror made me laugh until my head swung to the window to follow his gaze across the street. My body swung with it and I froze at the window, staring like a creeper, just like Garrett had been doing. My laughter stuck in my throat as I gulped.
Carpentry and Cocktails: A Heartfelt Small Town Romance (Green Valley Library Book 5) Page 1
