“Thanks. I owe you.” He took a sip and scalded his tongue.
“You certainly do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His friend looked at him over the top of his glasses. “I saved your hide at the meeting last night, and you know it. If it weren’t for me you would’ve totally alienated everyone.”
Cam pulled off the plastic lid and blew across the top of the coffee. “Not everyone. Melanie agreed with me.”
Ross huffed out a laugh. “That doesn’t count. We both know she’d agree to put in a tattoo parlor if you wanted it, and we know why.” He wiggled his dark eyebrows and grinned like a Cheshire cat.
“I wish you’d leave it alone.” Cam scowled at Ross. He usually ignored those jabs, but he was not in the mood today.
“Okay.” Ross lifted his hand. “I won’t mention it again.”
Right. Cam would believe that when it happened. Ross loved to give him a hard time about Melanie’s not-so-subtle hints that she’d like to be more than friends. But he also brought him coffee most mornings, shared take out pizza at least once a week, and wasn’t put off by his moods. He supposed he could take a little ribbing from a friend like that.
Cam picked up a soft cloth and wiped a speck of dust from the corner of the frame. “I still can’t believe we’re going to be sharing our building with a kids’ theater company. I’ll probably have to invest in soundproofing and up my liability insurance.”
“Come on, Cam. It won’t be so bad. Maybe it’ll bring some life into this place.”
“Yeah. Life. Just what we need.” He shook his head and took another gulp of coffee.
“It’s a done deal. So you might as well…” Ross leaned left, looking past Cam’s shoulder. A smile broke over his face. “Well, look who’s here.”
Cam turned and glanced out the window. A shiny black truck with the back full of boxes and furniture pulled into the loading zone out front. The driver’s side door opened, and Rachel Clark hopped out.
His stomach tightened, and coffee-laced acid rose and burned his throat.
She must’ve known they were in a tough spot, and they’d have to say yes to her proposal. She’d probably already packed before the meeting last night.
Rachel walked around behind the truck and lowered the tailgate. Placing her hands on her hips, she studied the jumbled load for a second before she reached for the first box.
Ross set his coffee on Cam’s desk. “Looks like she needs some help, and I’m just the man for the job.” He walked to the doorway and turned back to Cam. “You coming?”
Cam frowned as he watched Rachel lift a large box. Her bouncy ponytail, faded blue jeans and navy hooded sweatshirt made her look like a college student rather than the thirty-something professional he’d met yesterday. They also made her look way too appealing.
He quickly squelched that thought. “No, I’ve got to get this done before noon.”
Ross shrugged. “Okay. Suit yourself.” He turned and headed out the door.
Cam downed the last of his coffee, crushed his empty cup and threw it in the trash can. What was wrong with him? It would only take a few minutes to finish the framing project. There was plenty of time to help Rachel unload her truck. So, she was attractive. That didn’t mean he had to stretch the truth to his friend and hide out in his shop like some kind of hermit.
Ross called out a greeting to Rachel, and the words floated back to Cam through the open window. He watched Ross jog out to meet her and take the box from her arms. She thanked him and flashed a killer smile.
Cam strained to hear their comments, but he couldn’t catch the words.
Ross walked backward toward the building, toting the box and keeping an eye on Rachel as she returned to the truck.
Cam’s frown deepened. What was up with that? Was Ross afraid she’d trip or something? Then it hit him—he was probably just enjoying the view.
Cam groaned and forced his gaze back to his work. Grabbing the power screwdriver from the shelf, he lined up the D-hook and positioned the screw. His hands stilled as he heard them enter the building.
Ross made a joke about needing backup lights to avoid a collision. Rachel laughed, sending a clear message she was enjoying Ross’s help. Neither of them looked Cam’s way when they passed his open door.
He clenched his jaw and drove the screw into the frame. It didn’t matter. She had the help she needed. Ross would take care of her. That’s what he wanted, right?
Cam continued working, but he kept an eye on Rachel and Ross as they made three more trips to the truck. The fourth time outside, they scooted a large metal desk toward the tailgate. When they reached the edge, Ross hopped down to survey the situation and give Rachel directions.
Cam stared out the window. The old desk must weigh a ton. What was Ross thinking? Did he expect Rachel to help him haul that thing inside?
He set aside the screwdriver, then dashed out the door. His footsteps pounded down the hall, while his thoughts bounced back and forth like a crazy tennis ball.
He did not want to get involved with Rachel Clark.
Moving furniture into her office was not getting involved. He was simply helping out, doing the right thing. What could be wrong with doing what was right?
A lot!
Rachel strained forward, shoving the desk toward the tailgate. Oh brother, she was going to feel this tomorrow. She should’ve listened to her friend, Suzanne, and left it at the church. That would’ve been the smart thing to do.
But, once again, she didn’t do the smart thing.
Ross jumped down from the truck, then looked up at her. “I think we can angle it down and slide it off the back.” He motioned with his hands, demonstrating the process.
Rachel suppressed a smile. Ross Peterson was about as sweet as they come, but he obviously didn’t have much experience moving furniture. If she tipped this desk over the edge and he tried to catch it, he would end up like a squished beetle on the sidewalk.
She straightened and wiped her sweaty hands on her pants’ legs. “I don’t know. It’s pretty heavy. Maybe I should—”
“Wait!” Cam jogged down the sidewalk toward them. He sent Ross a scathing glance. “What are you trying to do, kill her?”
Rachel blinked. He was worried about her? Ross was the one about to be flattened by this overweight hunk of steel.
“We were just going to ease it out and slide it to the ground,” Ross said.
Cam shook his head. “Not a good idea. Come on down, Rachel.” He held out his hand to her.
She hesitated a split second, then took it and jumped down, hoping for a graceful landing. She wobbled slightly. His warm, sturdy grip tightened. Their gazes locked, and awareness zinged along her nerves.
He dropped her hand and spun away. “Come on, Ross.”
The lanky photographer jumped forward and grabbed one side, while Cam gripped the other. They tugged the desk out over the edge, then tilted it and slowly lowered it to the ground. Cam moved to the opposite end, and the two men hoisted it in the air.
“Want me to take a corner?” Rachel asked.
“No! Get the door,” Cam puffed as he and Ross hustled past.
“Okay.” She ran up the steps and opened the door just in time for them to pass through. Sweat glistened on both men’s foreheads, and they panted in time with their steps. Once inside, they slowed and Ross adjusted his grip on the desk.
“You got it?” Cam barked, deep lines creasing his forehead.
“Yea, but this’ll probably give me a hernia.”
Rachel blew out a deep breath. Oh, why hadn’t she ditched that desk and bought one of those inexpensive, snap-together models that come in a box? Or she could’ve checked the classifieds and found a used one…anything would be lighter than this monster.
The men rounded the corner and headed down the hall toward her new office. Ross groaned, his end almost dragging on the floor.
“Don’t drop it!” Cam grunted and raised his side hi
gher.
Ross glared at Cam and kept shuffling along.
Rachel scurried ahead and opened the door. Boxes littered the floor. She hustled inside and pushed them aside to make a clear path.
“Where do you want this?” Cam looked over his shoulder as he backed through the doorway.
“Over here by the filing cabinet.” She pointed to the corner, not wanting to add one extra step to their journey.
Cam led the way to the far side of the room and looked back at her with a lift of his brow.
The desk was a bit too close to the wall, but she wasn’t about to redirect them now. “That’s fine.”
Ross dropped his end to the floor with a bang, startling them all. Cam swayed under the load. Rachel rushed forward to help. Cam lurched, and the desk landed on his toe. His eye’s widened, and his mouth formed a perfect O, but no sound came out.
Rachel gasped and grabbed the desk, lifting the end a few inches off the ground. Cam jerked his foot out and hobbled to the window, silently clenching his fists.
Rachel shuddered and closed her eyes. Now Cam had another reason to hate her.
Rachel pushed the filing cabinet closer to the corner, then stood back to take a look. Perfect. She brushed off her hands and scanned her new office with a satisfied smile.
It had only taken about two hours to move in, much less time than she’d expected. Ross and Cam had certainly gone out of their way to help. After they left, she’d managed to shove her desk over a few more inches so it wouldn’t be in the way when she opened her filing cabinet. Then she’d unpacked her files and books and set up her desk.
She bit her lip and leaned back against her desk. Too bad the desk had landed on Cam’s toes. She’d apologized profusely—after she’d given him a few seconds to cool off. He’d insisted he was fine. But the way he limped out to get the last few boxes made it clear his foot hurt more than he’d let on. When they finished carrying in the boxes, he silently retreated to his shop, leaving her wondering if he’d ever speak to her again.
There must be some way she could make up for those crushed toes.
The faint scent of cinnamon floated through the air toward her. She glanced at the rectangular pan sitting by the window. The afternoon sunlight shone on the foil probably warming the cinnamon rolls to the perfect temperature. She’d brought them along in case some of her drama students stopped by to see the new location.
Maybe she’d pay Cam a little visit and bring him a peace offering. After all, weren’t homemade cinnamon rolls a sure way into the good graces of any man?
She peeked in the mirror she’d hung on the wall moments before and shook her head. Her ponytail had come loose, and several strands of hair hung around her face.
That would never do. She pulled off the elastic band and grabbed a brush from her purse. After a quick brushing, she gathered her hair up in one hand and surveyed her reflection. She sucked in her cheeks and made a silly fish face, then let her hair go and brushed it out again. That was better.
She huffed and rolled her eyes. Why was she so concerned about how she looked? She was simply going to deliver the cinnamon rolls and try to bridge the gap between her and Cam before it grew any wider.
Right. Who was she trying to fool? Cam was an attractive man, in a mysterious, moody kind of way. She smiled, remembering how he looked hefting the heavy desk out of the truck. He was obviously strong and fit, and he’d come running when she needed help today.
But she was definitely not going to let herself get carried away with any romantic daydreams about him. She had no idea where he stood spiritually. And that was much more important to her than outward appearance or superficial kindness. Investing in a relationship that was destined to go nowhere was a bad idea. She’d made that mistake before, and suffered for it.
She tossed the hairbrush back in her purse. This whole line of thinking was silly. Even if Cam turned out to be a spiritual giant, he obviously didn’t like her or the idea of having her kids in the building. As far as she could tell, they had nothing in common. And with his tight-lipped attitude, getting to know him any better seemed like a remote possibility.
Even a pan of homemade cinnamon rolls wasn’t going to change that.
Chapter Five
“What do you think of this one?” Ross held up a 16 by 20 black-and-white photo of an old man and his bulldog watching an Alaska-bound ferry depart from the dock.
“I like it.” Cam settled on the tall stool behind his workbench. “Looks like he wishes he was leaving on that ferry instead of being left behind.”
Ross nodded. “I was thinking of a pearl-gray mat, about three inches, with a simple black frame.”
“Sounds good.” Cam pulled three corner-shaped frame samples from the wall behind him. Footsteps approached, and he glanced toward the door.
Rachel stepped into view carrying a foil-covered pan. She’d taken down her ponytail, and her dark hair brushed her shoulders. Her brown eyes glowed as she sent him a hesitant smile.
Cam swallowed and shifted his gaze away.
“Hi. I thought you guys might like a snack.”
“Sure.” Ross motioned her into the shop. “What’ve you got there?”
“Cinnamon rolls.” She crossed the room and set the pan on the workbench.
Cam frowned. Sticky icing was the last thing he wanted in his workspace.
“Sounds great.” Ross hovered nearby as she pulled off the foil. “Wow, are those homemade?”
She nodded, a slight blush filling her cheeks. “Well, sort of. I made the dough in a bread machine.”
Ross rubbed his hands together. “Hey, that’s homemade in my book.”
Cam leaned forward slightly and pulled in a deep breath. They smelled great and looked even better.
“I thought we might need these.” Rachel pulled a wad of white paper napkins from her jeans pocket and laid them on the workbench. “You want to try one?”
Cam’s empty stomach gurgled. “Sure. Thanks.”
Gooey icing dripped down the side as she passed him a large fluffy roll. He took a bite, and cinnamon sweetness burst on his tongue. Closing his eyes, he let the buttery roll melt in his mouth. Man, oh man, this was amazing.
Ross bit into his roll and moaned. “Oh. My. Goodness! You should go into business. No, wait. Don’t let anyone taste these. Save them all for me.”
She laughed. “So you like them?”
Ross grinned and nodded.
“Mmm-hmm,” Cam mumbled, his neck warming as he took another bite.
A slow smile tucked in the corners of her mouth. She cut a roll in half and joined them. Ross asked her when the drama classes would start. She gave him the rundown, while Cam licked his fingers and took the second half of her cinnamon roll from the pan.
“Once summer classes and rehearsals begin it would save me a lot of driving time if I could find a place of my own down here.”
“Where are you staying now?” Ross asked.
“Up in North Bellingham with a friend.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Do you guys know anyone who has an apartment for rent in this area?”
Panic flashed along Cam’s nerves, and he shot a warning glance at Ross, but his friend was focused on Rachel.
“We sure do.” Ross patted Cam on the shoulder. “Cam’s been renovating the second floor of his house into a separate apartment.” He glanced at Cam. “You’re almost done, aren’t you?”
Cam shook his head and tried to choke down his last bite of cinnamon roll. “No. No, I’m still working on the bathroom and kitchen.” Renting the apartment to Rachel would be a bad idea.
Ross narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said all you have left is caulking around the tub and putting up some molding in the kitchen.”
“Yeah…but…I’m sure Rachel wouldn’t be interested.” Not unless she saw it, and that wasn’t happening.
“I might be. What’s it like?”
Cam walked over to the sink and rinsed his hands. “Well…it’s old and has som
e odd-shaped rooms.” His house was great. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Cam’s just being modest,” Ross added without missing a beat. “He’s done an amazing job. Refinished the hardwood floors and put in a totally new kitchen.”
Rachel’s eyes lit up. “Wow, I’m impressed.”
Ross nodded. “It has two bedrooms, a nice-sized living room and new, energy-saving windows. And just think, your landlord would be right downstairs if you need anything.”
Cam stifled a moan and sunk down on the stool behind his workbench. He was going to kill Ross.
Rachel’s eyes glowed. “It sounds wonderful.”
Great! How was he going to get out of this one? He shifted his gaze to Ross, wishing he could stuff the wad of napkins in his friend’s mouth.
Ross finally looked his way. Understanding dawned in his eyes, and his smile deflated.
“Is it far from here?” Rachel asked.
Ross quietly wiped his hands on a napkin.
Cam shifted on the stool. “About five minutes.”
“Oh, that would be perfect. I’d love to see it.” She hesitated, looking back and forth between them. “I mean, if you’re open to showing it to me.”
He clenched his jaw. What choice did he have? “Sure.”
“How about tomorrow?”
He shook his head. Maybe he could delay her, and she’d find something else. “I’m going down to Seattle for the day.” He hadn’t seen his sister, Shannon, and her family for a couple months. Maybe he’d pay them a visit.
“What about Sunday?”
He rubbed his chin, trying to think of another excuse, but none came to mind. “I suppose that would be okay. How about 9:00 a.m.?” Maybe she liked to sleep in on the weekend and would turn him down.
“I’ll be at church in the morning, but I could come around one.”
His face flamed. Of course he should have known she’d be in church. “One is fine,” he muttered.
“Great. I can’t wait to see it. Could you write down the address for me?”
He walked over to his desk and jotted it down, then handed her the paper.
Carrie Turansky Page 3
