Untried Heart

by Nicky Charles

  “Oh.” She frowned and then followed him inside as the doors to the elevator slid open. “I’m sure if he was financially secure, it would solve all his problems.”

  Michael nodded slowly. “Financial security is important; however, money doesn’t buy happiness, Eugenie.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Benjamin Davis has several personal demons he still needs to tackle.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean?”

  “Think about it, Eugenie. How well do you really know the man?” Michael exited the elevator and she trotted along beside him.

  “Well,” She frowned. “I know he’s in debt, his father passed away and his house is a mess.”

  “Surface facts. Spend some time with him. Learn what actually makes him tick. Get to know the man inside the gruff exterior. A GA has to come to an in-depth understanding of his or her client before they can truly know when an assignment is complete.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I guess there’s a lot more to this than I realized.”

  “I suggest you head back to the human plane and try to find a way to become part of Mr. Davis’ life.” Michael stopped walking, having reached the door to his office.

  “Any suggestions?”

  Michael gave her a pat on the shoulder. “You’re a clever girl. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

  Eugenie watched Michael disappear into his office and pursed her lips. Become part of Ben’s life. But how? Continuously buying more furniture would make him suspicious. She supposed she could tell him she’d asked her friends if they, or anyone they knew, would like to buy some of his pieces. But that conversation wouldn’t qualify as a prolonged interaction.

  No, she needed to be in his life for an extended period of time, if she’d understood Michael correctly. She thought of Ben’s house, of the mess it was in. Offer to be his housekeeper? That wouldn’t work either; he couldn’t afford one of those. And it would be a daunting job. From what she’d seen of his house and the workshop, both spaces were jam-packed with things. The entire property needed a thorough organizing starting with clearing out all the old objects she’d noticed stacked in the corners.

  An idea began to formulate. One of the TV shows she’d watched the previous night had been about people finding old collectibles. Perhaps she could claim she was a buyer for an antique store and ask if she could sort through Ben’s place under the premise that old stuff was like hidden treasure. If she understood the show correctly, everyday things from decades ago could be worth money if the right buyer was found. Ben could certainly use some extra cash and getting his surroundings sorted out would be bound to help him feel better. How anyone could live with all that clutter was beyond her!

  Ben rubbed his chin, puzzled yet pleased at the sale he’d just made. After several weeks of no one even setting foot on his property, he’d finally had a customer. He’d not really believed Eugenie, but it appeared she’d followed through; her landlord had stopped by and purchased an entire bedroom set including a headboard, armoire, night tables and chest of drawers. He’d thought at best he’d sell one piece. This was...well...it was like a miracle, except he didn’t believe in those.

  Miracles didn’t happen to guys like him. He’d come to that conclusion as a child when his mother had died and no amount of praying had brought her back. And then, he’d thought his ex was his personal angel only she turned out to be a money-hungry user. And he couldn’t forget what had happened to his father. He’d broken down and prayed for his father to be cured, but as usual it had been a waste of time. That had confirmed the fact in his mind that there was no one to rely on in this life except yourself.

  Well, maybe he could rely on Eugenie...a bit. He watched the van drive away with nearly a thousand dollars’ worth of furniture. Eugenie had been as good as her word. Too bad it wouldn’t last. One day of good sales would help, but it was a drop in the ocean to what he still needed to pull his ass out of the fire.

  He bent down and scratched Chip’s ears. “At least I can buy you another bag of dog food and a few groceries for myself. Make a payment to the bank as well.” He’d had to remortgage the farm to help pay off the pile of debts his erstwhile partner had left and now he was falling behind in the repayment.

  He straightened and turned to walk to the house only to bump into Eugenie.

  “Hey!”

  “Hello, Ben.” She smiled up at him.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “Didn’t you see me walking down the road?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you were too busy helping to load furniture onto that van.”

  “Yeah,” he frowned. “That must have been it.” He was sure he would have noticed her approaching or that Chip would have at least barked. Odd.

  “I see my landlord was here.” Eugenie peered around him and then stepped inside the barn.

  “Yeah, he’s a nice guy. Knew exactly what he was looking for.” Ben followed her. The place was a lot emptier than it had been yesterday.

  “I was sure he would come by.” Hands clasped behind her back, Eugenie wandered to the rear of the building. “I see you have a lot of old stuff stored back here.”

  He nodded. “This place belonged to my grandfather and then my dad. Neither of them ever threw anything out. Over the years, quite a collection of junk has piled up. I need to clear it out someday. Rent a dumpster and start pitching things into it.”

  “No!” Eugenie turned to him, aghast. “You can’t do that. This so-called junk could be worth a small fortune.”

  He looked at the pile of rusted and worn objects. “Nah. There’s nothing important in there.”

  “I beg to differ. I’m somewhat of an expert on the early twentieth century and I can assure you there is a market for your father’s things.”

  “Really?” He scratched his head.

  She nodded. “I’d like to make you a business proposal. Let me sort through and sell these items. I’m sure you’ll be pleasantly surprised by how much money we can get for them.”

  “What’s in it for you? What’s your angle?” He braced himself. Here it comes, he thought to himself. This is where she tries to rip him off.

  “Angle?”

  “Yeah. Nobody does work for free. How much do you want?”

  She hesitated. He could see her thoughts racing and he braced himself for an exorbitant fee.

  “Would ten percent be too much?”

  “Ten?” He frowned. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. So instead of trying to scam him, she was treating him like a charity case. His lips tightened. He might be up against it, but he still had some pride. “I told you I’m not looking for a handout.”

  “Well, then make it fifteen but no more.” She held up her hand even as he opened his mouth to protest. “I’ll get a great deal of personal satisfaction going through these items. I have a passion for old things.” She turned and scanned the items and when she spoke again there was a definite sincerity to her tone. “Please, let me do this. I’ll really enjoy myself.”

  He narrowed his eyes, considering her proposal. It would be good to get the place cleaned up. It had always driven him slightly crazy to see the clutter with which his father had surrounded himself. And if Eugenie did the sorting and selling, he’d have time to continue with his woodwork. Given the sales today, he had to restock the shop. He looked at her again. There was almost a glow about her as she contemplated the pile of junk. Go figure!

  Eventually he gave a nod. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

  “Great!” Eugenie beamed at him and stuck out her hand to shake on the arrangement.

  As their palms touched that feeling of awareness filled him once again, shooting up his arm to his heart, warming him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

  An odd expression passed over Eugenie’s face and he had a feeling she was experiencing the same thing. That would never do. Quickly, he let go of her hand and stepped back. This was going to be a business arrangement and nothing e
lse.

  Nothing. Else. At. All.

  Chapter 5

  Eugenie spent the following morning talking to her neighbours, trying to convince them they needed to visit Ben’s shop and buy some of his furniture. Unfortunately, the only success she’d had was with Brent. He was extremely pleased with his purchases from the previous day and had already been planning on buying one more chair. She frowned as she remembered her landlord’s final remarks.

  “Eugenie, that man is not only talented, he’s also downright gorgeous. Too bad he doesn’t bat for my team.”

  The conversation still puzzled her. Bat for what team? As far as she knew cricket wasn’t played in the winter. Or maybe it was baseball, since they were in North America. She’d have to ask Zeke about that particular phrase.

  As she walked down the road to Ben’s place, she hoped Zeke had managed to convince his ex-partner to buy something. While she was trying to sound positive about earning money from the sale of the items piled at the back of the building, she wasn’t sure how much they would actually make. If it were possible, she’d hire herself out and give the money to Ben but she doubted he’d accept it plus she had no marketable skills. According to the TV shows she’d been watching, modern women held down a wide variety of jobs outside the home. The very concept was quite foreign to her and she suspected she’d have great difficulty fitting in to modern life. No, if she was going to help Ben, it had to be here on the farm where her old-fashioned ways wouldn’t stand out so much.

  The door to the barn was ajar and she entered to find Ben hard at work.

  “Hello, Ben!”

  “Hi!” He looked up at her from where he was crouched down fitting two pieces of wood together. “I was wondering if you’d be back today or if you’d changed your mind.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not about to do that.” She wondered if it was just her imagination that his expression seemed to brighten at her words. And she noted there was no hint of alcohol in the air. Good. Her gaze drifted to the chair he was working on. “That’s nice.”

  “Thanks. Your landlord called this morning and said he wanted it. I guess there was an empty corner in the room or something. Anyway, it means I can’t help you with the sorting until I get this finished.”

  “That’s okay. If I need any help, I’ll give a shout.”

  He gave a nod and they both set to work on their individual projects, he at the front of the barn and she near the back.

  Eugenie considered the job before her. It seemed daunting but so had the pile of papers she used to have to go through for her father. The best strategy was to just dive in. Taking a deep breath, she got to work in one corner, her plan being to gradually make her way across the room, towards the door. With so many pieces of furniture sold, it had left an empty area where she could place items she believed were saleable. Those she felt were truly junk, she set in a pile for Ben to take to the recycling station.

  After some time, she realized Ben was whistling softly. The sound made her smile; it was nice to be working companionably alongside someone. When she’d worked with her father at the university, the room had always been deadly silent except for when he’d bark an order at her.

  Her stomach knotted as she recalled how quiet she’d tried to be, not wanting to disturb him. Every time she’d shifted in her seat, the creak of the straight-backed wooden chair would have him raising a brow at her. She’d whisper an apology and get back to work all the while wishing she dared jump up and go for a brisk walk.

  She paused in her work and looked towards Ben. He wouldn’t care if she announced she was going for a brisk walk. And he certainly didn’t care how much noise she made; the tools he used filled the space with thumps and bangs that were louder than any sound she’d ever created. Yes, he was the complete antithesis to her father, of almost any male she’d ever known for that matter.

  Her eyes drifted over Ben’s form taking in his broad shoulders, the play of his muscles through his sweat-dampened shirt as he lifted a piece of wood. Even unconscious and in danger of hypothermia he had aroused her interest. Now, in good health…well, when he dropped a nail and bent over to get it, the fit of his worn jeans captured her attention and she had to force herself to look away. The man was definitely built.

  Another peek in his direction showed him now running his hands over some carved detail he’d created. He caressed the wood, tracing the curves, stroking his fingers up and down the smooth spindles, before leaning forwards and blowing gently on the wood to remove a bit of sawdust. Her mouth grew dry as she watched him, somehow imagining it was her body, her skin he was touching, his breath feathering her ear...

  Her wayward thoughts had her fanning herself, her skin becoming heated from within.

  “Warm today, isn’t it? Here.”

  With a start, she realized Ben was standing in front of her, a bottle of water extended toward her.

  “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, it does seem quite warm today.”

  “Unusual for this time of the year but we’ll have snow before the week’s end if the weather forecast is to be believed.” He sat on the edge of a nearby table.

  “Snow? I love snow! We never had much at home.”

  “And where is home for you?” He took a swig of water.

  “I’m from England, originally.”

  “Right, you said the other day. I thought I heard a bit of an accent.”

  She laughed. “And I thought you had a bit of one!”

  “It’s all in your perspective, I guess.” He cast a glance behind her. “Just like this stuff you’re sorting through. To me, it’s junk, but you seem to be finding treasure.”

  “Yes, there are lots of good pieces.”

  “Well, I appreciate your going through it for me.” He took another drink of water.

  “It’s really not a hardship.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug as she watched him drink, noting the cords in his neck as he tilted his head back. “I enjoy it, plus I get to watch you...er...watch you make furniture, that is. Were you always interested in being a carpenter?”

  Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice her slip for he launched into an explanation of how he’d gone to school to study art but, it was an impractical career choice and so he’d turned to carpentry. His father had taught him the basics of the trade and then he’d worked for a small local construction company before eventually taking over the business.

  “You own your own company?”

  His face darkened. “Owned. Past tense. An accountant friend and I took over the company when the original owner retired. We specialized in building custom homes, I supervised the construction side and he managed the finances. But when my dad became ill, I spent a lot of my time taking care of him and my partner ran the business into the ground behind my back.” He crushed the water bottle in his hand.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He stood, not acknowledging her sympathy. “Time to get back to work.”

  The companionable atmosphere between them dissipated like mist. He pitched the water bottle into the recycle bin with more force than necessary and quickly walked across the room to turn on the saw. The noise effectively ended the conversation.

  She watched him for a moment before turning back to her sorting. She hadn’t known he was an artist at heart. It made sense though. His work was exceptional, more than just boards hooked together to create furniture. It was an art form in itself, though she doubted he’d see it that way.

  With a sigh, she continued her task. Old signs advertising gasoline for sale, rusted tools, broken furniture, a pair of ice skates, a cardboard box containing old gramophone recordings. She took some time to examine the thick, one-sided discs. None of the titles were familiar; her parents hadn’t approved of listening to popular music. A collector, however, would definitely be interested in these, of that she was sure.

  An old dollhouse caught her attention. It was stacked on a shelf, high overhead. She stood on her tiptoes and stretched but it remained jus
t beyond her reach. Undaunted, she looked around and found an old wooden crate and dragged it over. It was a bit wobbly, however she didn’t weigh that much.

  Carefully, she stepped up and reached out for the dollhouse. Almost... She stretched a bit more, rising up on her toes. Her fingertips touched the corner and she began to ease it toward the edge.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ben’s voice boomed behind her.

  She turned to look at him just as Chip decided it was the time to rush by barking at some unseen creature. As the dog brushed past her, she found herself falling. A cry of surprise escaped her and she closed her eyes, expecting to hit the ground but instead was encased in strong, warm arms. Looking up, she found her face extremely close to Ben’s, her breasts pressed to his chest. She could feel the thumping of his heart, the light brush of his breath against her skin. Inhaling, she was struck by his scent, a fascinating mixture of man and fresh sawdust. Her mouth suddenly seeming dry, she licked her lips and slowly moved her gaze over his mouth up to his eyes. They were staring intently at her and she felt his grip tighten before he set her down with a decided thump.

  “Next time you need to reach something, you ask for help.” His voice was gruff as he moved away. “What were you trying to get?”

  “There’s an old dollhouse up there.” She pointed towards the item on the shelf.

  “Step back.” He pushed a couple of boxes out of the way and easily reached the object, setting it down on a nearby table. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you.” She began to examine the dollhouse. “This is so cute. A little dusty but still a nice piece.”

  “It was my mother’s when she was a little girl. I remember her saying she was going to give it to her own daughter.” He gave a sad smile. “She died giving birth to my sister.”

  “And the baby? She died, too?”

  “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “It was just me and my dad after that.”

  She made no comment but secretly thought what a sad life he’d led. “I’m sure any little girl would have loved to have played with a toy like this. I know I would have.”