by Candace Colt
Forget spending any more time on this hopeless cause. Beau was still catching up after the long job at the Blessing’s store. After he delivered a box of receipts to his new and latest bookkeeper’s office, he’d swing by Theo’s place. Even if the glove wasn’t there, it would be a way to see the Blessing cousin. But he’d probably trip over his tongue again, trying to talk to her.
If only he could control this speech thing like he controlled his shop. A place for everything. Everything in its place. Except when it came to his words.
Beau had been invited to Theo and Ethan’s wedding, but he hadn’t gone. Crowds were just too much. Until yesterday, he hadn’t met Abby Blessing.
For some reason, Scarlett had made a point of saying Abby was unattached. Why should Beau care if an out-of-town customer’s relative had a boyfriend or not?
At most of Beau’s jobs, there was at least one resident feline who confided in him, and all were quite familiar with Scarlett. Every day, with regularity, she made a point to travel all over Cat’s Paw Cove picking up gossipy tidbits.
The Cove’s informal feline network was stronger and more reliable than any cell company hoped to be. Beau’s gut told him that Scarlett was ground zero for any gossip. He’d better be careful about what he said around her.
“I wish I knew where you go all day,” Abby said as she put the kibble container away in the pantry.
Scarlett consumed her breakfast like a feline vacuum. When she’d had her fill, she licked her paw and wiped her face. She peered once over her shoulder at Abby before scooting through the pet door, headed for the outside stairs.
“Mum’s the word, I guess.” Abby carried her teacup to the living room. With an hour to go until she had to open the store, she was in no hurry to change out of her sleep shirt.
The apartment was more spacious than one might guess from outside, and somehow, Aunt Deidra and Uncle Paul had raised three kids up here. Theo had been gradually replacing her mother’s 1990s furniture with more updated things. Abby hoped the old spinning wheel in the corner stayed. She ran her hand over the smooth wood frame and gave the wheel a gentle turn.
The sweet story of how it had magically appeared had caused Abby to nearly drown in tears. After returning from a visit to the eighteenth century, Theo had found it in her apartment. Their eleventh great grandfather, Jacob Blessing, had sent it forward from 1720 as a wedding gift.
Abby had grown up with stories about Jacob and all the gifted Blessings. Still, it was incredible to touch something that had been Jacob’s wedding gift to his wife 326 years ago. Incredible? In Cat’s Paw Cove, that was everyday stuff.
A door slammed in the driveway, and she looked out the window. The electrician!
Yikes. Abby raced into her bedroom, changed, and gave her cantankerous bed head a fluff. As she dashed downstairs, her tea climbed up her throat.
Catching her breath to slow her heart, Abby slowed to a stroll. She was acting like a teenager. Then her heart zoomed again. The truck was there, but no sign of the man.
Not bothering to put on her shoes, she rushed outside. He wasn’t out front. Could he be on the side of the house where he’d climbed the ladder yesterday?
She high-stepped across the dewy grass, stubbing her big toe twice on rocks and shells. Ethan Cooper needed to do a lot more work to fix the messy yard.
She rounded the corner of the house and spotted Beau bent over, searching behind the bushes.
Oh, goodness. This was an awkward but pleasant sight. “Good morning,” Abby said in a chipper voice.
Beau raised a hand to greet her, then kept at his task.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Lost a gl—ove.”
“Let me help you,” she said.
“Don’t bother. It’s go—ne.”
He started back to his truck.
“I’ll let you know if I find it,” she called after him.
Ten minutes later, Abby took a quick shower, then wrapped herself in a towel and critiqued her reflection in the mirror. So far, her latest leave-in-conditioner had had no effect. Yet another expensive waste of money. February was supposed to be a low humidity month in Florida. Somebody forgot to tell her hair.
She twisted to look at her backside. She didn’t consider herself a prize catch by any definition, but she wasn’t half bad either.
Not that she was looking for anyone.
But more time with that hunky electrician and she could have sharpened her rusty flirtation skills. She’d be gone after Theo got back, so what would be the harm? The guy was gorgeous, but hopeless. No worries about the curse with him. ‘Bah’ would be the last person on earth to hear that word come out of her mouth.
Chapter Five
“Are you serious?” Abby’s voice echoed in the empty studio. Yesterday’s three musketeers on the porch had morphed into ten. How? Why? Deidra stood at the door waving, again. Was her aunt getting a commission for bringing visitors to the store?
Abby flipped the sign to ‘open’ and stood back while the gaggle of women charged past.
Deidra stood to the side and gestured to the retail room with both hands in the air, pointing with two fingers like a flight attendant showing the emergency exits.
“Be careful, girls. You break, you buy,” Deidra announced.
Abby grabbed her aunt’s arm. “What’s this all about?”
“Remember, I told you we had a cocktail mixer yesterday?”
“Uh-huh.”
Deidra leaned close. “Dot and Polly scored.”
Abby shuddered in astonishment. “Whoa. Aunt Deidra, you do know what ‘scored’ means, right?”
Deidra sniffed back a chortle. “Oh, heavenly days and Betsy Jane,” she mocked. “Whatever did I just say?”
Good lord. Abby couldn’t stop her face from growing hot. First, because her dignified aunt knew what ‘scored’ meant. Second, because Abby’s unfortunate dry spell coincided with the anniversary of the hag’s curse.
Had those two ladies gotten lucky because they’d each purchased a doll? If so, Abby should consider buying one of those munchkin-faced things for herself.
“I knew Beau would get everything back online.” Deidra walked behind the counter. “I’ll handle the register. Go in there and make sure nobody slips one into their purse and conveniently forgets to pay.”
Still shaking her head in disbelief, Abby monitored the huddle of women crowding the corner shelf. The first woman, hugging a doll to her matronly breasts, edged her way back through the crowd. “She’s heavenly,” the woman said as she wiped away a tear.
Nodding, Abby smiled. “Isn’t she?”
One by one, the others passed by, gushing praise over their selections. Abby had smiled so much, her jaws hurt.
Within twenty minutes, the women had lined up at the counter to make their purchases. Only one forlorn doll remained on the shelf, her tiny glass eyes staring into space.
Abby held it a moment. What was supposed to happen? Abby felt nothing. No connection. No bond. Undoubtedly this was tied to the curse. She couldn’t say it, so how would she expect a doll to bring it into her life?
She set it upright and moved the price and information sign closer. Spooky how those glass eyes seemed to follow Abby. Anyway, this was the last one, and Abby didn’t think there were more in storage. After the women had left the store, Deidra gave Abby a hug and more air kisses.
“Wish I could stay longer, but this is mahjong day,” Deidra said. “I’ll be back in a day or so to start making more faces.”
“Let me know if anyone else scores.”
“That I will. By the way, did you call Luna yet?”
“I haven’t had time. We just talked about Luna yesterday.”
“You’re off the hook for now. You like my wheels?”
Abby looked toward the driveway. “You brought your friends in the retirement community van?”
“Why not?”
All the ladies were smiling and waving their dolls toward The Magic Po
tter. Despite jaw cramps, Abby pasted on a broad grin and waved back.
Deidra tapped her forehead. “I almost forgot. Scarlett’s under the counter. I think she slept through the whole sales frenzy.”
Abby held the door open for some new customers and kept one eye on them to see if they beelined to the doll shelf. Instead, they chose a set of four mugs.
She walked behind the counter to process the sale and saw Scarlett still asleep like a log.
Once the customers had gone, Abby reached down to pet the cat.
“I’m so happy you’re my roommate, but I wish I understood you like Theo does.”
Scarlett stretched, yawned, and hopped from her sleeping place. She accepted scratches under her chin while rubbing against Abby’s legs.
Abby did a double-take. Impossible. She bent down and retrieved Scarlett’s impromptu cushion.
A bright yellow an extra-long work glove? Inside, written in black ink: BEAU GRAYSON.
“In the s—hop?” Balancing on the top ladder rung, Beau gave his phone a doubtful stare. Was Abby Blessing kidding?
“Scarlett was sleeping on it,” Abby said.
He ended the call with a promise to come by later. Beau had to finish installing new cam lights over the display case at the Sugarland Bakery. He’d already rescheduled the job twice. If he didn’t complete it today, the owner, grouchy old Martha, would skin him alive, or worse, fire him. Darn good thing her bakery goods were the best on the planet.
Martha stood at the foot of his ladder. “You about done? I pay you by the hour to work, not to blather away.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Beau reached over his head to tap the last casing in place. “Let me turn the power back on, and you should be ready to roll.”
“Harrumph.” She stormed toward the kitchen. “I have cakes waiting. They don’t ice themselves, you know.”
“Any luck they’re your fresh apple mini bundt cakes?” Beau’s mouth watered at the thought of that deliciousness. He followed Martha into the kitchen on his way to the power panel.
“Cream cheese icing?” Beau called out from the backroom. He turned on the power to the ceiling lights and returned to the kitchen.
Martha tried to hide a hint of a grin. “What else?” she asked.
Beau took his tools and ladder to the truck and went back inside to admire his work.
“Meet your approval?” he asked.
“Perfectly. Send me the bill. And take this with you.” Martha handed Beau a small white cake box. “Share with your lady friend.”
“Ma’am?” What lady friend was she talking about?
“Dropping by to pick up a work glove? That’s a mighty fine one.” Martha cracked a full smile as she pushed the box toward Beau’s stomach. “On me.”
He’d never turn down Martha’s bundt cake. But sharing with Abby meant being together. With her, he couldn’t solder three words together.
If he skipped out and took the cake home for himself, somehow Martha, or worse, Scarlett would find out. Neither would let him hear the end of it.
He could hand the box to Abby and leave. Sure, and underscore his asshat reputation.
This freaking dilemma had disaster written all over it.
On the drive across town, pretending the cake on the seat next to him was Abby, Beau rehearsed talking in complete sentences. He did fine talking to Martha or any other unavailable female, or with a cake. Why did he revert to a mush-mouth with someone like Abby?
When he pulled up in front of The Magic Potter, his stomach plummeted, and he broke out in a cold sweat. How the hell would he get through the next few minutes? Maybe keeping his mouth full of apple bundt cake would give him an excuse not to speak. How likely was that?
Chapter Six
Two words in a row without a stumble. That’s all Beau wanted. If he could pull that off, it would be a world-class achievement.
Almost four o’clock, and The Magic Potter would close soon. Saved by the fact that Abby was busy with a customer, Beau put the cake box on the counter and started to the door. He’d get that glove another time in the way, way distant future.
“Beau? Wait up. I’ll be just a minute,” she said.
His gut knotted. His escape plan had failed. Once they were alone, the knot drew tighter. He tried to keep his focus on the pottery displays and not on the ginger-haired woman.
He cleared the tickle in his throat and tapped the box. “From Sugarland,” he said and then grinned. Two words!
“Martha’s still in business? My favorite bakery when I used to visit here.” Abby’s bright smile lit her face as her gaze riveted on the white box. “Please stay and share it with me.”
Stay? He couldn’t. Not that he didn’t want to. But it meant a conversation with a real woman and not a cake box. If he walked out on her invitation, would she be angry? He didn’t want that. Nor did he want her to tell Theo and Ethan he’d cut out on her. He needed their outdoor lighting job.
While he dawdled over a decision, Beau was drawn further into Abby’s charming gaze. Did she have any idea what effect she had over him? Leaving now could be a real mistake, but would staying be worse?
“Beau, are you all right?”
“Um. Sorry. Gue—ss my mind was some—where else.” A totally accurate statement.
Abby locked the front door and flipped the ‘We Are Open’ sign to ‘Closed.’ Fresh sweat beaded on Beau’s forehead at the sound of the door lock. Guess the decision had been made.
On the way up to the apartment, he made a note to discuss the inadequate stairway lighting with Theo and Ethan before they installed anything new.
In the kitchen, Abby set out plates and forks. “You prefer coffee or iced tea? Or is it too late in the day for caffeine for you?”
More sweat beaded on his forehead. It figured. A question right off the bat.
“Coffee’s fine.” Another two words!
“This is a one-cup machine. Your choices are dark, medium roast, or decaf.”
He braced and told himself not to screw it up. One word was all he needed.
“Dark.”
“Cream and sugar?” she asked.
Argh. Was this some kind of test?
Scarlett pushed through the pet door and sat in the middle of the kitchen.
“Well, well, well,” the cat said in a low meow.
While Abby had her back to them, Beau put his finger to his lips.
“She doesn’t understand, dude,” Scarlett said.
Beau mouthed a silent ‘Be still.’
Abby opened the box and slapped her hand to her chest. “Martha’s apple mini bundt? How did you know it’s my favorite?”
She cut it in two and put half on each of their plates then turned away again to fix an iced tea and get Beau’s coffee.
“I’ll give you props on this one,” Scarlett said.
Beau put his finger to his lips again, just as Abby turned.
Her suspicious stare shifted from Scarlett to Beau. After a long silent pause, Scarlett slunk out back through the pet door. “Catch you later,” she meowed.
Abby set the steaming cup in front of Beau then sat across from him with her arms folded on the table. He tried to disarm her unwavering stare with a sheepish grin. When that didn’t work, he took a bite of cake and chased it with coffee.
“I saw that,” she said. “But all I heard was Scarlett’s meows. Mind telling me what that was all about?”
He shook his head in feigned confusion as he filled his mouth with more cake. At this rate, his piece would be polished off long before Abby had even started.
“Good s—tuff,” he managed as he wiped a crumb off his mouth.
“You can communicate with her, can’t you?” Abby asked softly.
He pointed his fork in the air, then took another bite. Three or four bites to go, and his half would be gone. With a smile and nod, he gestured to Abby’s plate.
“In a minute.” She sipped her iced tea. “You didn’t answer my question.”
No, he hadn’t, had he? Even with her solemn face, Abby was so darned attractive. Blasted speech hang-up. But did it matter? Clearly, this wasn’t going anywhere. She might as well find out now what a dolt he sounded like.
“I have….” He closed his eyes and took a breath. “I have a hard time speak—ing.”
Abby drew her arms back. Her brow furrowed as she narrowed her gaze.
“For real?” she asked.
He nodded.
Her shoulders relaxed as she took a bite of cake. “This tastes like heaven.”
Was she patronizing him? He’d had more than his share of that.
“Did you hear m—e?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said casually. “Another coffee?”
He looked at the bottom of his empty cup. “No. Th—anks.”
“Was that why you were so short with me before?” Abby rolled her glass between her palms. “I thought I had torqued you off.”
“Not at all,” Beau said.
“Have you been like this all your life? An injury?”
Another string of questions. His eyelids fluttered as he struggled for an easy answer. Most women never had the patience to listen
“Really want to kn—ow?” Beau asked.
“I do.”
He wiped his brow again. “I’ll take that coff—ee now.”
Abby flashed a sexy smile and started another cup. “Go as slow as you need.”
Wow. This wasn’t the way it usually went down. Most women didn’t have the patience to hear him out.
Abby leaned against the counter as the coffee filled his cup. Her stern face had relaxed to an encouraging one.
He might be able to pull this off. “It star—ted when I was a kid. Got bull—ied for it.”
Abby sat back in her chair. “That’s awful.”
“Some ways it was g—ood. I was a pu—ny kid. Got in—to sports. Weight lift—ing. They didn’t bo—ther me after that. This doesn’t hap—pen.” He stopped to regroup. “With everyone.”
Abby hadn’t tried to finish his sentence. So many people did, and he hated that. They meant well but made him feel worse.
