Marrying Mandy (Brides of Clearwater Book 1)

by Melanie D. Snitker

  “Mandy?”

  Preston’s voice made her jump. She sniffed and blinked her eyes rapidly to rid them of the moisture. “Yeah. Sorry. There are a lot of memories here.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry. If you’d rather not stay out here today, I’d understand.”

  “No.” She walked to the old wooden chair her grandfather had kept in the workshop for as long as she remembered and ran a hand over the back. “They’re good memories. I guess I wasn’t prepared for them.”

  He brushed his lips against the top of her head and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m glad you kept this chair.” She sat down in it, enjoying the cool touch of the wood against her arms. “I used to sit here and wait for Papa to finish working and come in to eat.” She pointed to one of the big gouges in the right arm. “This one was my fault, you know. It was the first year I came to live here.” She glanced at Preston to find he was watching her with interest. “I had a screwdriver and a piece of discarded wood. I was determined to carve my name into it. Except the screwdriver slipped and went right into the arm of the chair.” She chuckled. “I was certain Papa would send me away.”

  “And, of course, he didn’t. What did he say?”

  She smiled. “He said, ‘Mandy girl, mistakes are an important part of life. The key is to learn your lesson the first time.’ Then he showed me how to use the correct tools to carve my name. I still have that piece of wood in my room.”

  “That’s a great memory. Your grandfather was a special man.” The thoughtful look on his face turned to one of concern. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry, Mandy. Not even when you fell and cut your leg on the rock by the river.”

  Mandy stretched her leg out and ran a finger down the two-inch scar next to her knee. She and Preston had been trying to use a tree trunk to cross the river. She’d almost gotten across when she slipped and fell near the bank. The memory of the pain was still as sharp as the rock she’d fallen on. “I don’t like to cry.”

  “Why? Sometimes it can be therapeutic.” He grabbed an old barstool and brought it closer before straddling it to face her.

  Mandy couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Instead, she focused on the little shavings of wood littering the concrete floor at her feet. “My mom used to yell at me when I cried. She told me it was a sign of weakness. That anyone who saw me cry would think I was a pathetic little girl.” Her mother’s words used to echo in Mandy’s head when she was young. Over the years, she’d learned to tune them out. But some of the hurtful things that were said never faded away completely. “So, I didn’t cry in front of my parents. And eventually, I got used to not crying, even when I was alone.”

  Preston’s face looked pained and sadness filled his gray eyes. “I’m sorry you grew up like that, Mandy. I hope you know what your mother told you was anything but the truth.”

  “I do realize that. But it’s hard to shake.” She shrugged. There wasn’t anything else to say. She sniffed. “So, show me what you’ve been up to out here. I need to take pictures of you working for the website.” She got the impression he was allowing the change in subject, though he didn’t look convinced.

  “I was hoping to get a lot of things listed for sale on Monday.” He showed her the intricate coaster sets he’d made, each crafted from different shades of wood pieced together to create beautiful patterns. There were also several full-size paddles he’d crafted along with smaller ones meant to be displayed. Each one was unique. Carved wooden measuring spoons and cutting boards sat displayed on another table.

  “Wow, Preston. These are amazing.” She ran a hand over one of the cutting boards. Granny would’ve loved something like this. “I bet you could etch in the town’s name on a lot of these and sell them to all the people who come to the area to camp.”

  He nodded. “I’d thought of that, too. These are to sell online, and I didn’t want them tied to one place.”

  Preston showed her the canoe Papa had crafted over the years. “I remember watching him make this one.” He put his palm against the canoe. “I was fascinated by the whole process and excited when he said I could help with the next one.” He smiled with the memory. “Your grandfather was a kind and patient man to let a bored kid come in and help him build. That’s why I want to finish the last canoe he was working on.” He pointed to the cloth-covered shape by the wall.

  Mandy ran a hand over the smooth cedar of the canoe. The boats shone, the tones warm and inviting. Papa loved creating things by hand, and she was glad Preston felt the same way.

  “Papa would be proud of you.”

  Preston’s eyes developed a sheen. He smiled at her. “I appreciate that.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s get to work. What do you say?”

  ~

  Preston took the cloth cover off the unfinished canoe, revealing the work-in-progress lying top-down across the long, narrow wooden work table. “I finished stripping the hull yesterday. Now that the glue is dry, I can trim the strips to make them flush at the bow and stern.”

  He remembered when Mr. Hudson had explained all of this to him years ago. It seemed strange to be doing the same for Mandy. “Did your grandfather ever show you how he built his boats?”

  “No. I guess I wasn’t interested back then.” There was a hint of regret in her voice. “I’ve seen them in various stages of completion, but that’s about it.” She looked thoughtful. “You know what? Go ahead and do that. I think I’ll go get my camera and laptop. Maybe I can take pictures of what you’ve made and even add some products to the website while you work.”

  Preston grinned. “That’s a great idea.”

  He trimmed the strips, admiring the way the canoe was finally taking shape. Until now, it looked odd and boxy. Once the bow and stern were more defined, the streamlined look of the canoe was revealed. This was one of his favorite parts of the building process.

  Mandy came back into the workshop and closed the door behind her to keep out the heat. He helped her find a place to plug her laptop in and get set up nearby. She blinked at the canoe. “Wow, you got that done fast.”

  “That part doesn’t take long. Next, I can remove the staples.” He pointed to a mason jar sitting on one of the work benches. “Can you hand that to me, please?”

  “Sure.” Mandy retrieved the jar and gave it to him. “That’s a lot of staples to pull out.”

  “It is. And I have to do it carefully because cedar is a soft wood, and I don’t want to make dents in it.” One by one, he took each staple out of the hull and dropped it into the jar with a clink. When he’d finished, he ran a gloved hand over the wood.

  “Wow. It’s almost like magic, the way it transforms.” Mandy stood nearby, her Canon camera in her hand. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Come here,” he beckoned. When she was next to him, he took her hand and placed it on the wood. “Can you feel those bumps where the strips meet? I need to use a plane and smooth it out. Especially at the bow and stern. Once everything’s evened off, then we can start sanding.”

  “We?” She looked surprised.

  “I thought I’d teach you how.” Just having her in the workshop with him was amazing. Working together, side by side, appealed to him more than he’d thought possible. Suddenly, the need for her to want the same was so strong, he held his breath as he waited for her response.

  “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’d be happy to try.”

  He exhaled with a smile. “Great! Using the plane to smooth the hull out will probably take a while. You can take pictures of everything else for now if you want to.”

  “Sure. And I thought I might take a few of you working as well. It’d be good to show you in action on the website. Do you mind?”

  “I think that’s a great idea.”

  She nodded, all business. Preston focused on what he was doing as he worked on the hull, vaguely aware of the sounds of the shutter as Mandy took photos. Twenty minutes later, she ran a cord from her camera to the com
puter and sat back down again.

  They worked in companionable silence for a while. Preston usually ended up putting some music on his phone when he was alone to help fill the void. Today, however, there was no need to do that. Being with Mandy and their occasional chitchat was more than enough.

  He smoothed everything out as much as possible with the plane and set it aside. He shook his arms, trying to work the tightness from his muscles. Mandy focused on her computer screen, her brows drawn together in concentration. When she fiddled with one of her thumbnails, Preston chuckled. That brought her gaze right to his.

  She gave him a tentative smile. “What?”

  The woman had no idea how gorgeous she was. Or how cute she looked when she was concentrating. The fact she didn’t know was yet one more reason why he cared so much about her. She’d never been one of those stuck-up girls in school who tried to outdo everyone else. She was just Mandy. Sweet, considerate, and breathtakingly beautiful. Love swelled in his chest as his heart turned over.

  “You’re cute when you’re focused. And even cuter when you get embarrassed.”

  Mandy’s cheeks turned bright pink. She grabbed a paintbrush off the table next to her and tossed it at him. “Preston!” She looked down at her computer, her hair falling to create a curtain that hid her face. There was no missing the way her lips curved up at the corners, though.

  He remembered their kiss last week and desperately wanted another. He didn’t want to push her, and it wasn’t like she’d made it clear she’d welcome another kiss. So here they were. He wished he knew if the whole thing was making her as crazy as it was him.

  Preston pulled the barstool beside her chair and took a seat. “How’s the website coming along?”

  “So far, so good.” She turned the laptop allowing him to see the screen more. “I’m creating a page to show some of the process. I want people to see every piece you make is handcrafted and unique. It makes it seem more personal. Plus, people will be more willing to pay higher prices if they know what kind of craftsmanship goes into them.”

  He admired the page, and they talked about several layout options. It gave him the break his arms needed, and he enjoyed working together with her on the site. “You ready to learn how to sand?” He stood up and held a hand out to her.

  She didn’t look overly sure of herself, but she closed the laptop, set it down, and reached for his hand. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I don’t want to ruin the boat.”

  “You won’t.” He gave her hand a squeeze and let go. He retrieved the electric sander, placed a new piece of sandpaper on it, and then plugged it into the nearby outlet. “The key to sanding the hull is to run the sander all over the surface until the whole hull is smooth to the touch. And while I was careful to remove all the staples, keep an eye out for any I may have missed.” She was hanging onto his every word, her eyes wide. “Okay, let me show you first, and then you can try. If you get the hang of it, we have more than one sander and we can double team this.”

  He took several minutes to smooth a section of the hull, moving the sander evenly over the surface before proceeding to another area. Then he motioned for her to take the sander. Preston positioned himself behind her, a hand over hers, and guided her movements. It took all he had to focus on the task and not the fact her face was so close to his. Her silky hair tickled his cheek and her scent filled his nose.

  With a flip of the switch, he turned the sander off. Mandy immediately turned her head to try to look at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Yes. You figured this whole thing out way faster than I wanted you to.”

  She looked completely confused, and Preston had to fight to keep his neutral expression in place.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I think you’re ready to manage a sander on your own.” He leaned a little closer and whispered in her ear. “But I rather prefer helping you out like this.” If he’d wanted to kiss her before, that need had risen tenfold. He couldn’t see her face well enough to know whether she would welcome it or not. “You keep this one, and I’ll plug the other sander in. We could be done with this part by lunch.”

  He turned to move away when she put a hand on his arm to stop him. Then she surprised him by turning partway, going on tip-toes, and placing a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Preston.”

  All he could do was grin at her in response. As they worked together the rest of the morning, he kept catching glimpses of her face. And every time she caught him watching her, she’d flush a little. But then, he also caught her watching him, and that gave him hope.

  Hope that maybe, just maybe, Mandy could fall for him the way he’d fallen for her years ago.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mandy didn’t think she could eat another bite until the smell of warm, buttery popcorn wafted to them from an open door in the theater. No matter what, there was always room for popcorn.

  Their dinner at the Italian restaurant had been amazing. The salad, soup, and breadsticks alone would’ve been enough, but she couldn’t turn away the big plate of lasagna the waiter set down in front of her. After working all afternoon on the canoe, they’d both been ravenous. She hadn’t realized how much energy went into working with her hands. No wonder it seemed like Preston would eat them out of house and home at every meal. Now her stomach was uncomfortably full.

  Preston purchased tickets for the latest super hero flick. By the time they got their popcorn, drinks, and found a spot to sit, the lights were dimming and previews beginning. He leaned to his right and whispered near her ear. “We barely made it.”

  His nearness sent a jolt of warmth to Mandy’s middle. They were sharing popcorn. How on Earth was she supposed to follow the plot when she had to think about that every time she reached for a buttery handful?

  As it turned out, their hands didn’t connect as often as she thought they would. What surprised and confused her the most was the disappointment she experienced. It shouldn’t matter. She was supposed to be keeping her distance and protecting herself. Because of that, she should avoid physical contact with Preston at all costs, especially when she knew exactly what it did to her.

  Halfway through the movie, Mandy was a mess of jumbled nerves. She hadn’t paid as much attention to the story as she should have, and she was so aware of Preston and what he was doing that she jumped whenever he moved.

  They finished the popcorn, and he set the container down on the floor at their feet. She wiped her greasy hands off on a napkin and noticed he did the same thing. Then, to her shock, he reached over and took her hand in his. He leaned in close and whispered, “There, that’s better.” The warmth of his hand combined with a wink from him scattered the last of her focus on the movie. For the rest of the show, all that existed was Preston’s touch and the alternating waves of elation and fear that kept vying for top spot in her emotions.

  Once the movie finished, they walked through the parking lot in search of Preston’s truck. Even though the sun had set, the warmth emanating from the pavement served as a cruel reminder of the broken air conditioner waiting for them at the house. She checked the clock on her phone and fought back a yawn. “I didn’t realize how late it was.” It’d be after eleven by the time they got back.

  “Yeah, me, neither. It’ll probably take a little while to get the living room cooled off enough to sleep. I’ll get that going as soon as we get home.” Preston checked for traffic and pulled out of the parking lot.

  It awed Mandy how easily he’d referred to the B&B as home. The transition into marriage, a change in profession, and a complicated relationship seemed to be easy for him. Or was he just exceptionally good at hiding how he truly felt?

  She studied his profile as passing cars and streetlights illuminated his face from time to time. Preston’s ability to roll with the punches was the one thing she admired most about him. Would he be disappointed if he knew how difficult the whole thing had been for her? Marrying in order to keep the house and land was ridiculous. They should’ve go
ne to her directly.

  Sometimes she wanted to scream about the unfairness of it all.

  And yet, if it hadn’t been for her grandparents putting stipulations in the will, she wouldn’t be here with Preston right now.

  By the time they got home, Mandy was exhausted. Preston got the fans going while she took a quick shower and changed. She curled up on her side on one end of the oversize couch to wait for Preston to return from his shower. The cool air from the fans blew over her skin. Before she knew it, her eyes drifted closed, and she fell asleep. At one point, she vaguely noticed Preston come back into the room, turn the lights off, and curl up on the opposite end of the couch.

  When she woke up, she stretched her legs along the length of the couch. Remembering Preston sleeping on the other end, she sat upright, afraid she might have kicked him. His blanket and a pillow were still there, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Mandy yawned and stood with a stretch. The scent of coffee filled the air and drew her to the kitchen.

  Preston looked up from the pan of scrambled eggs he was cooking. “Good morning, sleepy head. I was about to wake you.”

  “Good morning.” She caught sight of her nearly transparent reflection in the tall window above the sink and tried to smooth her hair down. “Thanks for making breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome. Did you sleep okay last night? I hope I didn’t crowd you on the couch. The recliner totally made my back ache.”

  “No, it didn’t bother me at all. I don’t blame you.”

  “Good.” He gave her a bright smile. “Are you up to church?”

  It was Sunday. With the change in routine from the lack of guests, Mandy had lost track of time. “Sure.”

  “Then have yourself a seat. There’s orange juice poured, and these eggs are almost done.”

  She did as he suggested, sitting at the bar in the middle of the kitchen. She took a sip of orange juice and watched as Preston finished the eggs and divided them between two plates. It was hard to grasp the fact that Preston, the boy she used to run with, tease, and often argue with, stood in her kitchen making her breakfast. A lot had happened in the last month and a half.