Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters

by Cari Quinn

  A quick knock. “Miss Greene? Sophia? Are you ready for dinner?”

  “Coming.” He heard soft footsteps behind the door and realized he was nervous. He wanted her to like what he’d done. She’d been so sad, and Mr. Will had never been a sad person. He would have wanted a party, to celebrate his life, not mourn his death. The door opened and . . . he had no words. She wore a black sequined cocktail dress that hugged her curves. It stopped barely mid-thigh. His eyes dropped to see those smooth legs again, this time more exposed, but still muscled and firm. The black heels were the same and also matched the dress. He looked up again and her face was a little confused, perhaps by his unabashed admiration. And it was completely open. His heart was racing, his stomach doing flips, and he wasn’t even trying to pretend he wasn’t affected. Her hair was up, with wispy ringlets surrounding her face, now perfect with evening makeup and the, what was it called? Oh yes, smoky eye powder, like for Hollywood parties. Beautiful.

  She looked so very . . . perfect. And so completely wrong for tonight.

  He moved his hand up to run through his hair, a habit Mr. Will had tried to break, and he jingled. No wonder her face was confused!

  “I apologize, Miss Greene. I should have explained. You look . . . so beautiful. Amazing. But—”

  She nodded and gave a tight smile, looking again at his shorts and sandals and the jingle crown. “But we weren’t going out to dinner, were we?”

  He felt his face grow hot as embarrassment raced through his veins. “No. I mean, yes! We are going to dinner, but not . . . a formal one. We have a party planned to welcome you, down by the pool. It’s not formal, but I promise, the food is better than you would find at the finest restaurant, and the company much better.” He reached out and took her hand. She started to pull back but then relaxed and let herself be drawn forward to the railing.

  She looked down and a smile slowly appeared on her face, like a bird lifting wings to take flight. “Oh! It’s beautiful! It looks like Mardi Gras. All the beads and lights and . . . is that a float?”

  Gabe nodded. “Mr. Will and I built that together. He was a very good carpenter. A true craftsman. He taught me much about cabinetry. I knew only houses. He taught me furniture and delicate things.”

  She nodded, as though lost in thought. The setting sun made her hair appear red and bathed her face in golden light until it glowed. “We used to go to antique auctions years ago. He used to test me on dovetail joints and how old the nails were before he would make a bid. That’s when I decided I wanted to work with tools. I’m the only girl who does in our family.”

  That surprised Gabe. “You? No. I do not believe you. Let me see your hand.” As though she was used to the disbelief, she turned her hand, palm up, without an argument, and he lifted it to look at it in the light. There were definitely callouses at the base of her fingers and her nails were short, just to the tips of the skin. The skin was soft with fresh lotion, but she was right. These were working hands.

  The hand started to tremble the tiniest bit and her breath was in little puffs that made him look up at her face. She was staring at her hand. Actually, more she was staring at his. He didn’t realize he had been caressing her palm, dancing patterns along her fingers. “Oh. Sorry.” He let her hand drop and she let out a shaky laugh.

  “Don’t be. I’m not.” She turned and walked back across to her room. “I should change into something more . . . suitable.”

  He waited for her to shut the door. But she didn’t.

  Gabe stood, transfixed, as Sophie kicked off her shoes and slowly began to ease her panty hose down her legs. She had to bend over to get them off her feet and he heard himself groan as her plump, round bottom, barely covered by sequins, beckoned to him.

  When she stood up, still facing the far wall, she reached back to unzip her dress. It moved a few inches and then stopped. She jiggled the zipper a few times and then called out. “Darn. It’s stuck. Do you mind?”

  Did he mind? Undressing her? She must be joking! He stepped forward, not even caring anymore that he jingled with each step, and stopped right behind her. It was very likely she could feel his erection pushing out his pants. The fabric of the dress was very thin. He reached for the zipper, expecting it was just an excuse to get him in the room. His mind was already deciding how best to throw her onto the bed and finally live out the fantasy he’d been planning ever since he saw the picture, years ago.

  But the zipper really was stuck. His hands felt clumsy, trying to defeat the tiny zipper, but it had sucked up several of the sequins and it wouldn’t move up or down. He pulled it back and forth until she started moving bodily on the carpeting.

  “Hey, hey! Careful! This dress cost me a month’s pay.”

  Why would anyone pay so much money for such a small scrap of fabric? He let out a frustrated breath and bent down close to the fabric. “Could you at least move into the light a little?”

  “Um, sure.” She walked with the small steps that the tight fabric allowed toward the lamp on the nightstand and he followed, keeping hold of the zipper, wiggling it this way and that, trying to unstick it from the fabric. The more she moved, the stronger the scent of orchids. It had to be her hair.

  She went right up to the lamp, but her body put the dress in shadow. “No, that’s worse,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “We need to turn around.”

  She did, so quickly that he didn’t have time to react in the small space between the bed and the half wall. The zipper ripped out of his hand abruptly and his crown toppled onto the floor behind him with a flutter of bells. He was face to face with her. Well, more face to breast, which was a very nice place to be. Her lips were parted slightly, her face flushed. While he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick the tightly bound skin over her dress, he instead stood up until he was inches away. “That was not exactly what I had in mind, but it might have worked.”

  She let out a gasp as he put his hands on her waist and then reached behind her and held the top of the dress with one hand and used the other to slide the zipper down. The abrupt tug had pulled the fabric away and it easily slid down. He locked his eyes with hers and let go of the fabric. The top of the dress fell down until it caught on his belt buckle.

  Gabe felt his breathing slow until the only sound was their hearts pounding. Or maybe he was just feeling it through the skin. When he put his hands on her bare back, she inhaled sharply and shut her eyes. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and kissed her. He had to taste those pale pink lips.

  She put her hands on his chest and curled her fingers until she was clutching the front of his shirt. He darted his tongue into her mouth as he pressed himself against her and backed her up until the lampshade tipped back against the wall. It had been a very long time since emotions like this had stirred in him. Sophie responded by putting her hands around his neck and pulling him in tighter.

  Her skin was so smooth and warm. It was like his hands were pressed against a heater. He could only imagine what it would feel like when she was wrapped around him and he was inside. Which he was hoping would be very soon.

  “Gabriel?” He heard the voice in the distance, but it was far away and his mind was buzzing. But then the voice became loud, like a mother unwilling to wait any longer. “Gabriel!” He tried to ignore it again. It wasn’t until other voices joined in that he finally admitted defeat.

  “What is keeping you?”

  “The food is getting cold! Bring her down already!”

  He slowly ended the kiss with a frustrated groan. She let out a small chuckle. “Not the best timing, was it?”

  He sighed. “They are old. Time is precious to them.” He stepped back, hoping to see her nude and beautiful, but she actually had on a bra of sorts above the dress, held up only by the gentle swell of her breasts. There were no straps, but it covered her with thick padded nylon. He had to struggle not to reach forward to see how they were held on. Tape?

  She put out a hand and pushed against his chest. “S
hoo. Let me get dressed for a pool party.”

  That confused him and he felt a sad frown pull at his lips. “You were willing to let me watch before.”

  Sophie let out a little laugh, but it sounded nervous. “That was when I thought you’d be staying longer. Do you really want people to come bang on the door while you’re . . . watching?”

  While Mr. LeBeaux would probably pull up a chair to watch with him, the ladies . . . no. She was right. He let out another sigh. “I will be just outside.” Still, it was difficult to watch her shut the door firmly and hear the lock set behind him.

  “Gabriel!”

  He walked to the railing and looked down at the people staring up. “Yes, yes! I know. She has to change. She was dressed for a sit-down dinner.” And very nearly undressed for dessert. He sighed again.

  ~*~

  Sophie leaned her back against the door and shut her eyes as she heard Gabe shout down to the people waiting for them. What in the hell was I thinking?! Well, that was the thing, wasn’t it? I wasn’t. She slid down the door until she was crouched, her dress in a pool on her lap, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  She’d never been so brazen before, undressing in front of a total stranger. Well, okay, he wasn’t a total stranger, but close enough. Leering over his photo for years wasn’t the same thing. But the lust that had been building for that image wasn’t easy to ignore. Especially when the real-life version had that sexy foreign accent and a quick smile.

  Well, better get to it. She hoped she didn’t blush to the roots of her hair when she saw him again. Pushing up and away from the door, she walked toward the bathroom, the carpeting soft under her bare feet. She wiggled down the dress over her hips and examined the zipper area. It didn’t look like anything had ripped, thank heavens. Sewing wasn’t her strong suit.

  After carefully laying it over the back of the dressing room chair, she inspected herself in the mirror. Her lipstick was smeared, which wasn’t a surprise. She grabbed a tissue to dab it away without ruining the rest of her make-up, and caught the scent of Gabe’s cologne on her hands. The scent was so wonderful that she buried her face in her palms just to soak in the scent. It was clean and grassy, with citrus overtones. Oh, man! I could get used to that smell!

  The make-up only took a few seconds. She didn’t brush her teeth a second time, because she was enjoying the taste of spiced rum that Gabe must have drank before he came upstairs to get her. She put the dress back on the padded hanger and flipped through her limited clothing. Hmm . . . what says both ‘pool party’ and ‘Mardi Gras’? A tall order for a month’s worth of clothes. She finally settled on a pair of soft cotton shorts that were about the right color of purple and a yellow scoop neck tee shirt with splashes of color. There was a little purple and a little green. Close enough. She hadn’t brought sandals, so running shoes would have to do. No jewelry, because she’d fought the battle between necklace chains and the sort of cheap plastic beads Gabe had been wearing. Nearly broke a solid silver necklace of her mother’s that way.

  She was as ready as she was going to be. Gabe’s cute, silly crown on the floor caught her eye as she left the dressing area and she picked it up. The tinkling made her smile as she shook it. Opening the door, Gabe was standing on the walkway talking to a lovely older woman with short silver hair. He smiled as he caught sight of her.

  She put the crown on top of his head, but didn’t want to embarrass him with why she had it. “Found this in my room. It looks good with your outfit.”

  He nodded without commenting, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “You look lovely.”

  Sophie couldn’t help but roll her eyes and look down at the clothes. “I look like I need to go shopping. I didn’t bring much with me. I wasn’t sure I was staying.”

  The old woman walked the few steps over to her and patted her arm. “Well, of course you’re staying, dear. Will wanted you here.”

  That raised her eyebrows. She’d expected the woman was just a guest of the motel.“You knew Grandpa?”

  Gabe laughed low, an odd chuckle. The woman joined him. “Oh, my yes. We were . . .” She paused, looking uncomfortable. Her fingers nibbled on her palms and she bit at her lower lip. But after a few moments she threw up her hands and laughed good-naturedly. “Well, it’s silly to keep the secret any longer, isn’t it? We were paramours.”

  Sophie didn’t think she could be so surprised a second time in one day. “Oh! Grandpa never said he had a . . . girlfriend.” She tried to picture her grandfather courting a woman. He was a flirt, of course, and often went to events, but never really dated to her knowledge. She refused to think of him having sex.

  Gabe joined in. “No, no. He would never speak of it. He was a very private man.”

  The woman shook her head. “That wasn’t it, Gabriel. Not at all. It wasn’t a matter of privacy. Everyone here knew, after all. It was really just the family we kept it from. Mine and his. For some reason, a few people think that when a spouse dies, you’re supposed to die with them. That love can never happen again.” She looked past Sophie, crossing her thin arms over her chest, as though seeing something in the distance, behind her. “But it can. And does.”

  The look on her face reminded Sophie of her grandfather’s face the last time she saw him—in the hospital. It sparked something in her memory. “Wait. Is your name by chance Marie?”

  She cocked her head with a quizzical look on her face. “Why yes. How did you know that?”

  “Gabriel! We aren’t getting younger down here!” The woman’s voice from below had a heavy Spanish accent.

  Gabe shook his head in amusement and stepped forward, holding out one arm for each of them. “They will not stop until we go down. But please, don’t let me interrupt you. How did you know Marie’s name if you didn’t know they dated?”

  Sophie tucked her arm into the crook of Gabe’s, while Marie did the same on the other side. He tightened his arm against his side, pulling her just a fraction closer. She noticed he didn’t do that with his other arm, which nearly made her blush. She cleared her throat and looked around Gabe as they walked to see Marie. “When Grandpa was in the hospital, he didn’t talk much. But one time when I was alone with him, he grabbed my arm. Really hard, which was unusual for him. He told me, ‘Make sure you get the box to Marie. You know the one I mean. I meant to give it to her last time.’ I thought he was delirious, because I didn’t know anyone named Marie and I don’t know of a box. Do you have any idea what box he was talking about?”

  Her brow furrowed and she seemed to think hard. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

  Sophie shook her head. “If I knew, I’d give it to you. I’ll ask the attorneys, though. Maybe they know.” They walked for a few more steps and she couldn’t help but blurt out. “I’m sorry you weren’t there at the end. We didn’t know to call you.”

  Marie stopped cold, pulling her arm from Gabe’s, her face stricken. “You two go on ahead. I’ll be down in a bit.” Her voice shook just a bit and Sophie realized she was about to cry.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but Gabe nudged her with an elbow and shook his head as Marie quickly walked away down the covered path. He kept walking, propelling her forward. “Give her a few minutes,” he said softly. “It’s been difficult for her since Mr. Will died.”

  Sophie felt like a heel. “I really didn’t know. I feel horrible. I wish he would have said something. At least, if he did, nobody mentioned it.”

  They reached the stairs and he walked carefully, slowly, as though she was fragile. It was sweet, but unnecessary. “Was Marie correct? Would your family have objected to their romance?”

  A sharp, bitter laugh burst out of her. “Oh, absolutely. My parents and uncle would have had a fit. They would have thought she was a gold digger.” Gabe got an odd look on his face, and shook his head, not understanding, so she explained. “They would think she was dating him to get money out of him. Money is everything to my parent’s generation.”


  “And to yours?” he asked carefully, stopping her before they rounded the last corner.

  “My sisters are like that too. And one brother. My baby brother is closer to me. We want to make our own way. I like working with my hands, and he signed up for the Peace Corps. He digs wells in Africa. My parents think we’re both nuts, because neither job pays very well.”

  Gabe’s answer was swallowed by a dozen elderly people suddenly descending upon them, talking over the top of each other so quickly, and in so many languages, that she couldn’t keep up. Everyone was touching, hugging, laughing, crying. The air was filled with a thousand spices. It was complete sensory overload and she found herself spinning around in a circle, trying to listen to everyone. She wasn’t even sure she managed to get her name out more than once, but it didn’t matter because everyone seemed to know who she was.

  She was grateful when Gabe finally stepped in and put a hand on the small of her back to guide her toward a row of tables that had been set up to hold a dozen warming trays and crockpots. “Friends, please! Let her eat. It has been a very long day for her. We only have to meet her. She has to meet all of us.”

  That seemed to settle everyone down and a line formed behind her. Soon her plate was loaded with a wide variety of ethnic foods that everyone swore was Will’s favorite dish. It nearly made her laugh, because every time she had dinner with her Grandpa, he wanted meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans, which was about as far from ethnic as you could get.

  But amongst the Thai curry, spicy enchiladas, eggplant parmigiana, and seafood gumbo—the combination of which was going to give her a bad case of heartburn around midnight—was a simple meatloaf. Tiny bits of perfectly cubed onions dotted the ground beef amongst the herbed bread crumbs. The proportions made it so every bite was identical in flavor. The topping was more barbeque-sauce-meets-salsa than ketchup, but it was delicious. It was dense, moist and melted in her mouth. If this is was the meatloaf Grandpa had been trying to duplicate when they went to restaurants in Texas, it was no wonder he always seemed disappointed with his meal. It was amazing!