by Sandy James
Her hand rested on a dark sample, the one he would’ve picked were it his house. “I saw this on a renovation show on HGTV. I really liked it. What do you think, though?”
While he loved the color of the stain, he wanted her to choose for herself. “Doesn’t matter what I think, boss.”
“I’m not your boss. Not really.”
“Seemed easier than calling you ‘client.’ ” Funny, but he didn’t like thinking of her as either a client or his boss.
“How about Mallory?”
“Fine… but it still doesn’t matter what I think.”
She shifted her gaze from the laminate to him. “You’re the one who has to work with it.”
“You’re the one who has to live with it.”
A smile bowed her lips. “Fine. I want the walnut.”
“Walnut it is.”
When she reached for a box, he moved to stop her. Too late. She lifted one end, promptly dropped it, and then hissed out a breath.
The urge to scold her tickled his tongue, but he refrained. The boxes were heavier than they looked, and she’d misjudged what she could lift. “Let me do that. That’s what you’re paying me for.”
She nodded, her lips a grim line as she dropped her left shoulder and held her left arm close to her middle.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m… fine.”
“Did you strain something in your shoulder?”
Her reply was a brisk shake of her head.
“We can do this later…”
“No.” She took a deep breath. “No, I want you to have what you need to start working. I’m—I’m fine.”
The word “liar” almost slipped out. Instead, he frowned and loaded boxes of walnut-colored laminate onto the cart. If she wanted to pretend she hadn’t strained something, fine with him.
“Where now?” she asked. Her hand had fallen away from her left side, which he hoped meant she felt better.
“Time to pick out some light fixtures.”
“Oh goodie,” Mallory drawled.
“Hardware stores not your thing?”
“Not even close. Neither is shopping. Although… it will be fun to pick out things I like.”
“Yes, ma’am. That house will be exactly what you want it to be. But I thought all women loved to shop.” Then again, Ben tended to judge most women based on his ex-wife. That was clearly a dumb thing to do with his new boss.
One of these days he’d have to drop the walls around him and try to let someone new in. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to meet a woman with a good sense of humor and a sweet nature.
Like Mallory Hamilton.
“You really hate to shop?” he asked to distract himself from his wayward thoughts.
“Yep. But I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She crooked her finger until he drew closer. “Teachers melt at an office-supply store.” Her voice was a mischievous whisper, and her face glowed when she smiled.
“I’ll have to remember that.”
* * *
“You’ve only got the one car?” Ben asked.
Mallory nodded, although the question seemed a bit odd. None of the projects she’d hired him to do were in her two-car garage.
The place was next to empty since the day Jay decided he wanted a divorce. He’d packed up his clothes and his tools and just… left. While a little warning might have been nice, she’d come to believe the direct cut had been for the best, especially considering everything else she’d been dealing with. Let the new girlfriend deal with him and hope to hell she never needed him to man up when the going got tough. Being a mature adult wasn’t Jay’s forte.
She approached the divorce the way she did most things. Head-on. No weeping. No gnashing her teeth. No self-pity. He wanted out of the marriage? Good-bye and good riddance. She wouldn’t waste any more tears on Jay Hamilton.
“Do you mind if I set up in the unused side?” Ben asked. “It’s a pain in the a—um… butt to have to load and unload some of my stuff. I’m going to use quite a few things for a while.”
“You won’t need them for your other jobs?”
He shook his head but didn’t expand with a true reply.
She’d heard once that women talked more often than men, that females used three times as many words. Ben certainly didn’t waste any. He’d talked to her at the hardware store, but then he’d grown eerily quiet. Sure, he asked questions about the items he wanted her to pick out, but nothing more. No more teasing or chitchat. The ride home had been filled with nothing but the twang of country music on the truck’s radio, another overemotional song about love gone wrong. He’d all but disappeared as he unloaded the things he’d need to bring the “money pit” back into its heyday.
“Fine, then,” she replied. “Just set up wherever is best for you. Where are you going to start?”
“I thought about that a lot. If you don’t have a preference—”
“I don’t,” she insisted. The whole place needed work. What did it matter what got fixed first?
“Then the foyer.”
She waited for him to explain why he’d chosen that.
He didn’t.
“Why not one of the bathrooms?”
“The floor in the foyer’s dangerous. The bathrooms are just ugly.”
“Dangerous?”
“The laminate boards weren’t joined together tightly, and the whole floor floats. It slides. Didn’t you notice?”
“Yeah. I guess I just got used to it.”
“When you put it in you forgot to add a foam underlay. I’ll have to pull the whole thing up and start from scratch.”
As if she’d ever let Ben think she would be that irresponsible. “I didn’t put it in. Jay did.”
“Jay?”
“Never mind.”
Since Ben didn’t tend to elaborate, neither would she. The whole sordid nightmare still humiliated her every single time she thought about it, so she tried to keep it where it belonged, in the past.
“I’ll be able to get this pulled up and prepped tonight. I’ll install the new flooring tomorrow. Sorry, but this won’t be the first time you’re inconvenienced, not by a long shot.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ll have to turn off electricity, water, stuff like that while I fix different things.”
She’d survived much, much worse than a little inconvenience. “I only want to be able to walk on one level from the stairs to the kitchen instead of traversing all those wooden speed bumps.”
“Your ex is the one who made such a mess of the DIY?”
“Yeah.” He made a mess of a lot of things…
“I’ll get rid of the speed bumps. Promise.” Ben’s chuckle was warm and genuine. Mallory tried not to notice.
Her whole body flushed hot, but she couldn’t tell if it was from yet another hormone flux or Ben Carpenter. One of her medicines made her suffer from hot flashes, night sweats, and mood swings. While she could easily blame turning crazy on Jay leaving, she hadn’t even started those pills when he moved out.
With a curt nod, Ben headed out the front door.
At least when this guy walked out, he’d come back.
Chapter Four
Mallory couldn’t stop frowning, hardly believing she’d actually shown up at Bayside Church’s Saturday singles mixer. She wasn’t looking for a companion right now. Maybe someday.
The things I do for friends…
On the other hand, she wasn’t sure how long she could wait for male companionship, which explained why she’d allowed Juliana to cajole her so easily. Being around Ben in the evenings seemed to have reawakened her hibernating libido. Sex hadn’t crossed her mind for a long time. Even before Jay left a year ago. Now it was all she could think about.
But she wasn’t looking to find someone tonight. It was too soon. Far too soon. Besides, the prospects of great single guys in Cloverleaf, Illinois, were few and far between.
Except for Ben Carpenter…
“I’m staying an hour,
Jules.” She held up her index finger. “One hour. Then I’m heading home.”
Her words did nothing to diminish Juliana’s smile. “We’ll see.”
As usual, Juliana would get her way. “At least there’s a bar.”
“Damn right, or I wouldn’t be here.” She waved to some guys who stood clustered around the large-screen TV, mostly ignoring it—probably because it wasn’t showing any sports. “You need to start living again, Mallory.”
“I’m living just fine.”
An inelegant snort popped out of Juliana. “You’re sleepwalking through life. You go to school, you go home, you sleep, then you do it all again the next day.”
“I didn’t go to school today.”
“Stop being a smart-ass, although it’s nice to see you’re getting back to yourself.” She tossed Mallory a wink. “The divorce has been final for months and you’re getting healthier and stronger. What does it hurt to meet a couple of new guys? Dance. Flirt. Remember that you’re a beautiful woman and—”
“Beautiful? With hair shorter than most of the men here and… and no—”
“Don’t even say it, Mal. You’re going to fix that, remember?”
With a sigh, she nodded. Flirting wasn’t on her agenda, but she’d talk to a few guys even though the last thing in the world she wanted was to open up to a new man. Not yet. Not while she wasn’t whole.
“Let’s get a drink and mingle.” Juliana grabbed Mallory’s hand and dragged her to the bar.
“Let’s get several drinks.”
They stood close to the dance floor and nursed their white wines while Mallory watched a small group of men who were drinking beer from long-neck bottles and laughing every now and then. The whole scene reminded her of the awkward dances she’d been to during middle school. Girls to one side; guys to the other. Both groups trying to work up enough courage to ask someone to dance.
One of the men gave her and Juliana a half wave, and Mallory smiled in return. Robert Ashford was here, so at least there would be one more familiar and friendly face. He tapped the shoulder of the guy next to him whose broad back was to the women and gestured his brown bottle Mallory’s direction. Then the man turned to look at them.
Ben Carpenter. Her carpenter.
“Wow.” Juliana nudged Mallory’s arm. “That one’s a looker. Tall drink of water, too. Think I might ask him to dance.”
“You can’t.” Was that a note of jealousy in her own voice?
“Why not?”
“He’s the guy working on my house. Ben Carpenter.”
“You have a carpenter named Carpenter? That’s priceless.” Juliana stared at him for a few long moments. “You get to see him every day?” She let out a low whistle. “Maybe I need to find some projects for him to do at my house.”
“He’s got a full-time job and works on my house evenings. He doesn’t have enough time to do anything for you.”
“Careful, Mal… You’re sounding possessive, which makes me very, very happy. This one might have a chance. You already know him, and it’s obvious you’re interested.”
Mallory shook her head.
“Why don’t you give this guy a shot? The way he’s grinning at you, I’d say he’s interested, too.” She nudged Mallory with her shoulder. “Go on. Go ask him to dance.”
“I’m still having my wine.”
When Mallory took a sip, Juliana tilted her glass up so she’d have to finish it before snatching the glass from her hand. “You’re done now.”
Her throat burned from drinking the wine so quickly. “I can’t ask him to dance.”
“Sure you can.”
“I can’t! I’m not—he wouldn’t want me. At least not yet.”
“Don’t make me smack you for saying something that stupid.” Juliana shoved her with her shoulder, a little rougher than the last time. “Go. Oh… wait. Looks like you won’t have to.”
“What are you—” Mallory’s eyes flew wide. “Lord Almighty, he’s coming over here.” She swallowed hard before the reality of the situation hit her, calming her anxiety. “He’s coming over here for you, Jules. You look spectacular tonight, by the way.”
“Don’t I always?” She winked. “But I’ll bet you another drink he’s gonna ask you to dance, not me. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”
As if anyone would even consider her when Juliana was right under his nose. “You’re on.”
Ben stopped in front of them and smiled that lopsided smile that made Mallory’s stomach somersault. He was staring right at her. “Who’s on, and what are you on for?”
“Mallory just bet me—”
She stopped Juliana from being her wicked self and blurting out what they’d bet upon by kicking her gently. The woman didn’t have any kind of filter between her brain and her mouth.
“Hi, Ben. How are you?”
“I’m great, Mallory.” His gaze shifted to Juliana. “Hi, I’m—”
“Ben Carpenter. Mallory already told me all about you.” Jules held up the two wineglasses. “I’d shake your hand, but…”
“Double-fisted drinker, eh?” His chuckle was warm, but his eyes returned to Mallory.
“Not at these prices,” Juliana replied.
“You look nice in pink,” he said to Mallory.
Her whole body flushed hot in response to his intense stare. He was clearly choosing skinny, little her over Juliana.
A first.
Although Juliana was her dearest friend, whenever Mallory was with her, she felt rather invisible even before all the changes. Perhaps it was the long red hair. Natural red, too. Not a brassy bottle red. Her eyes were a sparkling green. Her Irish heritage shone through in her curvy shape. The only thing missing was the accent, and Jules could even affect one of those when she put her mind to it. Heaven knew she’d trotted it out to use on guys she met in bars just for kicks and giggles.
Still, despite all of Juliana’s beauty and charm, Ben wasn’t staring at her.
His hands were halfway in his back pockets, and he rocked on his feet as though nervous. She’d never seen this side of him before. “I don’t suppose you’d want to… I don’t know… dance?”
“You’re asking me?” Juliana laughed and held up the wineglasses. “Thanks, but my hands are full.”
“I wasn’t… Oh.” A nervous laugh made Mallory smile at his unease. “You knew I meant Mallory.” He turned those brown eyes on full power, melting something inside her. “D’ya wanna dance?”
The question came out so quickly, it sounded like one long word.
She took mercy on him and indulged herself in her only chance to ever be in his strong arms. “Sure. I-I’d like that.”
* * *
Ben let out a long, relieved breath. He hadn’t been that nervous since asking a girl whose name he now couldn’t even remember to the junior prom.
He stretched out his hand. “Then come on. Dance with me.”
After a moment of hesitation that made his heart skip a beat, Mallory put her hand in his.
The dance floor wasn’t crowded, but there were enough other couples so he didn’t have to feel as though all eyes were on them.
Robert was leaning against the wall, grinning like a damned fool. He’d already teased Ben ad nauseam about how Mallory would fall in love with him while he fixed up her house. The joshing was probably Ben’s fault. He’d made what he’d hoped were subtle inquiries into how long ago Mallory had been divorced and whether there was a chance of Mr. Hamilton ever returning to the picture. Robert told him her husband had walked out without a word of warning almost a year ago.
Dumb bastard.
The song changed right as Ben was about to show her that he really couldn’t dance well. Only country line dancing made him comfortable, usually because he was among a bunch of other drunk, wannabe cowboys and cowgirls who missed steps as often as he did. Thankfully, the DJ put on a slow song, the type that made holding her close acceptable. Since she seemed reticent, he guided her arms around his neck and
set his hands on her waist.
She’s thin. No doubt the stress from the divorce, and it wasn’t as though he didn’t like what he saw. But he wanted to help her stay healthy. He’d already formed a game plan to fatten her up a smidge, aiming to do something he’d never done for another woman.
He’d cook for her.
After Theresa left, money had been tight, so he’d stretched dollars by learning to cook. Amber had joined in, learning along with him. She was good. He was great. He could make one of his specialties for Mallory.
Since when had he needed to think of lame excuses to get a woman interested in him?
Most women liked the way he looked. His ego loved how their gazes lingered and how often they approached him instead of forcing him to make the first move. He wasn’t a tomcat, but since his divorce, he’d taken a few of the more interesting ladies up on their offers of intimacy. They were one-night stands—always at their places—that meant nothing to him except a satisfying physical release. He’d left instead of spending the night. While he made sure they enjoyed themselves, he’d never once considered starting another relationship.
His first marriage had been hell, and Amber needed stability. He wasn’t about to start parading women in and out of his daughter’s life. The few liaisons he’d had were private, and he hadn’t truly thought of seeking out a new mate. Marriage was for other guys.
Then Mallory Hamilton had called to ask his help. A week of getting to know her while he fixed her foyer floor and put a new toilet and vanity in her downstairs half bath, and he’d found himself besotted.
As they swayed with the music, Ben couldn’t seem to get her to loosen up. Holding her was akin to dancing with an ironing board. He let his hands drift up to rub small circles on her back, and she slowly eased her rigid posture. By the time a second song began, she was relaxing.
“This is my favorite song,” he whispered in her ear so she’d keep dancing. Then he dared to press his lips to her earlobe.
When she shivered and nodded, he smiled, grateful she couldn’t see his grin. She might mistake it for smug instead of for what it was—relieved. Her divorce was still fresh. She’d need time and patience to learn to trust another guy. Although he wasn’t at all sure Mallory would be anything more than a passing fancy, at least her surrender meant he’d have a chance to find out if she could be something more.
