Your Hand in Mine: A Heartwood Novel

by Brea Viragh

  “The jury is still out.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I leaned back with wide eyes. “Maybe I’ll sway you when I find the perfect breakfast buffet to complement the table.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I told you I wasn’t ready to finish the dining room yet. We don’t have the walls framed out. Where do you think I’m going to fit all this furniture when I don’t have the storage space?”

  I turned, giving him a perfect view of my ample hips in the dress I’d carefully selected for such an occasion. “Trust me.”

  “Trust me, she says.” He ran his hands through his hair. “And I hear you say it at least once a day. I think it plays in a loop in my head once I get into bed at night. Your voice telling me to trust you.”

  “You’re going to learn better than to argue with me, too. I know what’s good for…this project,” I corrected.

  “I hired a pushy secretary. Sorry! Sorry! Assistant.” Fenton immediately held his hands in front of him and took a step in the opposite direction.

  Smart. “I prefer right-hand man,” I told him.

  Struggling not to frown, he followed me down the hall into the foyer. Chainsaws buzzed outside while the guys finished up their work for the day. The pile of garbage in the side yard had shrunk considerably since my first day, with the help of my ton contact and the huge green dumpster I’d gotten delivered.

  It helped to have a schedule. Whatever Fenton had done before, trying to get his men on track, wasn’t working for me. Or for him. He went from room to room without a set punch list and I wondered how they managed to do anything major before I came along.

  “I’m about ready to head off to the bar,” he said, keeping up. “My shift starts in about an hour. Are you okay here?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll stay here and finish up for the day, then head home. I won’t charge you for the extra hours.” I mimed reaching forward and pinching his cheek. “You’re so dang cute.”

  “You’re going over and beyond. I can’t pay you for overtime.” His tone took a drop into serious. He was clearly uncomfortable with me putting in the time without asking for money.

  “Actually, I think what I’m doing is right.” I grabbed a dirty cloth from the table and wiped a spot on the window, peeking out at the men finishing up. “I’ll get you sorted out if it’s the last thing I do. My rates are reasonable and I’m willing to work out a payment plan.”

  He moved closer, laying his hand on top of mine. I started when his thumb traced over my skin once. Twice. “You know I appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” I mumbled. The towel dropped out of my hand onto the floor. If I’d had a single brain cell left, I would have made a move. Said something witty or comedic to have him wanting to hold my hand.

  “Hey, do we have a delivery scheduled for today?” Fenton glanced out the window before breaking contact, his eyes narrowing.

  A healthy dose of mad worked its way up to color my cheeks. “No, we don’t.” I moved up on my tiptoes, considerably shorter than him, to get a good look at the truck pulling into the driveway. The second I recognized the driver, my eyes rolled toward the back of my head.

  Great, it was an ex. I should have remembered when I made the order from the company. No wonder I’d had the inside contact information. Where was my head? Probably still on you-know-who.

  “Dammit, it’s the railings for the front porch.”

  “Wait, when did you order railings?”

  “They aren’t supposed to be here for another two weeks. No one called me! What are they doing here?”

  Fenton’s eyebrows shot up. I didn’t wait around to see the rest of his reaction, stomping toward the front door and letting the screen slap closed behind me. Speeding across the dusty parking area, I called out to the driver in time to have him glancing over and sending me an absent wave.

  “Owen!” I called out. Building up a great head of steam the closer I got to the truck. “What the shit? You aren’t supposed to be here.”

  He pulled to a stop and turned the key in the ignition. Sparing a look to Fenton, still on the porch, before his eyes fell to me. Yup, I suddenly had a very good reminder of one of the many reasons why we’d broken up last year.

  He was a leach.

  Owen leaned an arm out the window and searched me from head to toe like he was wondering what I had on beneath my dress. The sad part? He already knew. The damn man probably had me memorized. The only parts of me he’d paid attention to were the parts hidden by clothing during our normal waking hours. It had gotten old quickly, being with a man who spoke directly to my cleavage instead of my face.

  I guess he’d gotten tired of working for the electric company and moved on to something with a little more excitement.

  “I wondered if it was you. My brother answered the phone and said your voice sounded familiar.” He drew in a deep breath. “You smell good.”

  “Stop smelling me and acting familiar. We both know you’re breathing in exhaust fumes. Now please, tell me why you’re here today. No bs. I didn’t have the delivery scheduled for another two weeks.” I swept my arm behind me. “You can see we aren’t ready for the porch rails yet.”

  “What are you doing in a place like this?” He used his head to gesture toward the porch and the glowering Fenton with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I’m the one asking the questions,” I insisted, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “You’re about two weeks too early. Did you read the paperwork before you packed up the delivery? I’m not paying you today.”

  “I’ll unload while you figure it out,” Owen replied, shaking his head.

  In addition to being a leach, he’d never had the good sense to read body language. Or listen to what anyone said unless the sentence contained the words boob, sex, or masturbate.

  “If you unload do you expect a check?” I asked. Jumping back when he opened the door and nearly knocked me down with it.

  “Of course.”

  “Then take the railings back. I’m not joking. Tell your brother we’ll wait for the agreed upon date. If he can’t oblige, then I don’t want them.”

  “Now I remember why I dumped you,” he grumbled, lips twisted. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

  “Me?” I pointed to my chest. Ready to jump into an argument that would probably get nasty and dirty. Then I remembered my boss on the porch. And swallowed every nasty and dirty thing I wanted to say to Owen. “You know what? I’m going to talk to the guy in charge and see what he has to say about this.”

  “Here I thought you were supposed to be the manager.”

  “I am the manager, douchebag.” I grit my teeth before I said more. My mouth was always getting me into trouble. “I have a healthy dose of respect for the chain of command. Unlike some people I may mention, who wouldn’t know respect if it reared up and bit them in the—”

  “I know you don’t mean me.” His statement was said loudly at my back as I stalked to the porch, attempting the impossible task of biting my tongue.

  Fenton still had his arms crossed when I approached. “I generally don’t recommend my employees call my vendors “douchebag,” but in this case, I can see what you mean.” His eyes went hard. “Who is that?”

  “Someone you’re better off not knowing.” I let my head tip back and my eyes close. Trying to figure out the best and most delicate way out of this situation. Hard Shari was aching to slap Owen in the head and demand he do his job the right way. Soft Shari insisted there was a way to spin this where everyone came out a winner.

  I ended up telling Fenton, “Okay, they made the delivery early. The way I see it, we have two options.”

  “Fine, let me hear them.”

  “I can swallow any last shreds of pride and let him unload the railings. We’ll be ahead of schedule and we’ll have to find someplace to store them where it’s not going to get wet because we have rain in the forecast. I’ll need to sign a check for him and we might not be able to get the gravel for the driveway right away. Or, we can refuse
to accept them and face the consequences. Which may mean we get the railing on time, or we don’t get them for another month. It depends on what kind of nasty things Owen says when he gets back to the office. He may also decide to raise the rates, which means we can’t afford the design I picked out.”

  Fenton continued to glare. “Are you sure those are the only two options? I don’t like the way he’s looking at you.”

  “Well, exes tend to look at you funny.” I grit my teeth. “Especially ones like him.”

  “I’m going to go with the third option.”

  “Which is?”

  “To give him a piece of my mind.” He shifted to my left and was down the porch steps before I had a chance to stop him.

  “Fenton, no—”

  The man of my dreams was striding across the parking lot toward the ex of my nightmares. I groaned, actually groaned, when I watched the two of them meet, their hands extended toward each other. Both carried themselves stiffly and kept their muscles flexed until they broke contact.

  I couldn’t hear the conversation.

  Maybe it was the different tone of voice or the fact that Fenton could make pliable any man, woman, or child he spoke to, but five minutes passed. Five minutes where I expected an argument to break out and stared at the two of them like I could burn holes into someone. I expected some yelling, name calling, maybe a well-thrown punch or the ideal fantasy where Fenton dragged Owen across the parking lot and beat him to a pulp. A bloody one.

  Some words defending my honor would have been good.

  Instead, Fenton signed the forms and gestured toward the back of the house and the makeshift storage shed there. I guess we were going with option A. It was the better part of valor, I knew, and I didn’t have to swallow anything in the bargain, least of all my pride.

  I watched Owen start up the truck to pull around, shaking my head at the turn of events. “You didn’t have to do that,” I called out on impulse.

  Fenton stared at me over his shoulder. “Do what?”

  “Kiss his butt.”

  “Listen, Shar,” he paused and pointed at me. “I don’t kiss anyone’s butt. At least we have our railings and another contact of yours in our pocket. I did, however, have something to say about the way he talked to you. And I think that from now on we both know exactly where we stand.”

  I held my hands up in a sign of defeat and had the shipping papers shoved into them when Fenton marched past me.

  “Whatever you say.” I let my hair flop down to hide my secret smile. It was good, I thought. Good enough to have the worst of my anger and frustration melting into something more manageable.

  “Hey,” he began, “legally, I don’t want to hear about any kind of murderous plans. Then I’d be an accessory. I’m too pretty for prison or public flogging.”

  “You’re something, all right. I need to figure out what.” Despite myself, and the awkward position I hadn’t been able to handle, I chuckled. “One day you’ll let me know what you said to get him to do your bidding.”

  “One day, you’ll tell me about your relationship with the scumbag. I would be particularly interested in knowing which one of his many fine qualities led to your breakup. Better yet, which ones made you want to date him in the first place.”

  This time I followed him into the house. “Oh, the breakup is easy. He called me by his sister’s name during sex.”

  I’ve never seen a man stop so fast. Literally fast enough to have him tripping over his own feet before he spun around. “Seriously?”

  At the time I’d been mortified and more than a little angry to look over at the naked man in my bed and see not a shred of embarrassment. Now, I chuckled. “I couldn’t make it up if I tried. I doubt anything happened between them, but I didn’t stick around long enough to find out. He’s a sleaze.”

  Fenton stared at me. “It seems like there are a lot of those out there. Do you have any good stories about your exes?”

  “With them being exes, generally not. It depends, though. You won’t judge if I tell you?”

  “We all have horror stories. I’m intrigued to hear some of yours. Especially after meeting the gem currently tossing my porch railings into the hedgerow.”

  I glanced out the window where, indeed, Owen was busy manhandling thousands of dollars of merchandise into the weeds. Like Fenton said, he was a gem. “I’m not one to play it safe, apparently. I’ve had my fair share of relationships. Some good. Some bad. I can’t settle until I’ve experienced the gamut. Seems most of my problems lately stem from men with first names starting in O. I wonder what that means.”

  “Seems a shame you haven’t had a real gentleman treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

  It felt a little strange having his conversation with him. The man who was my boss the man who kissed the brain cells out of my body. In the interest in our growing bond, I held nothing back from him. “Damn if I don’t say the same thing. And who says I haven’t?”

  “I’m judging from what I see,” Fenton answered, leaning against the wall to keep a better eye on Owen. “I also tend a bar. I know what kind of men the county has to offer. I know you deserve better than him.”

  “Is this your way of asking me out on a date?” I asked, unable to keep the hopefulness from my voice.

  He shook his head. “Shar, you need to get your head out of the dating arena. I’m trying to get to know you a little better.”

  “Well, if you decide to change your mind,” I slapped the papers down next to the empty mug on the makeshift plywood countertop, “then let me know.”

  A deliberately loud cough broke into our conversation. When I looked up, Owen was leaning against the opening to the back porch with one arm over his head and the other hooked into his belt.

  “Finished unloading,” he said slowly. Drawing out the syllables in a way I’m sure he thought sounded provocative.

  It wasn’t doing anything for me. I opened my mouth to explode about what I thought in regards to his unloading when Fenton interrupted me.

  “Thank you. Do you mind showing me where you put everything? I want to make sure none of my men accidentally run over the expensive porch railings you so carefully stacked.”

  Even though he’d watched the whole thing. I wanted to hope it was a way to get Owen out of the room. Out of the B&B before he took his time to notice the details. Or maybe it was a way to get him away from me.

  My eyes widened at the same time Owen’s traveled, once more, from my painted toes to the hair hanging loose around my shoulders.

  Fenton quickly walked past him and outside. Trusting the other man to follow.

  He didn’t. “Girl, you are looking good.” He smiled. The way his eyes heated, he was remembering a lot more than what I looked like naked.

  I remembered the last time I’d seen him and shuddered. “No, thank you.”

  “What?” he asked with forced innocence. “Can’t I just tell you how much I appreciate you? You always did have the nicest looking outfits.”

  “Better than your sister’s?” I fired back.

  It didn’t faze him. I wondered why I thought it would. “Can’t a man remember the feel of a woman after a long absence? It’s been a long time, Shar. A damn long time.”

  “Yes. I want to keep it that way. Especially considering what a difficult place you put me in today.” I craned my neck to look out the window and see what Fenton was doing. He had his back turned to the house, his hands on his hips, staring down at the hasty—crappy—job Owen had done.

  Owen pushed himself away from the wall. “I can think of a few other hard places I’d like to put you.”

  “No, thank you. I’m not interested.” I held my hand up to stop his progress. “Been there, done it, and it doesn’t bear repeating.

  “I can make you change your mind.” His voice deepened.

  I could feel my legs and feet ready to take an involuntary step in the opposite direction. Owen was no small man. Intimidation came easily to him, and I rememb
ered that he was used to getting what he wanted.

  I held my ground, hardened my face, and shot him a look that told him I was done with the bullshit. “Not interested,” I repeated. “Don’t you have papers for me to sign?”

  Making sure to keep eye contact, Owen reached around to his pocket and brought out several pages of folded inventory, along with my receipt.

  “You seriously saying no to me?” he asked as I brought out a pen and signed my name to acknowledge: we’d gotten what we paid for.

  “Saying no means there was thought involved. I’m flat out refusing to believe you’re doing this. Thus, it warrants no further discussion.”

  “How about a date? I mean, come on, we had fun together. It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he pressed. “It can be a night of fun.”

  “The lady told you her answer.”

  Fenton was standing in the doorway now, their roles reverse. Yes, I thought, intimidation might come easily to Owen, but Fenton had the upper body strength to back his up. With the sun at his back and his face shadowed, I could almost picture him as my avenging knight.

  One who wanted nothing to do with me romantically. Still, it didn’t take away from the power of the image.

  Owen straightened and inclined his head, his face shifting into a mask of ease. “No big deal,” he replied. “Now, you have something to show me? Boss?”

  I didn’t like the underlying string of disdain in his voice. From the look on Fenton’s face, he’d had enough as well.

  He swept his arm out and gestured toward the shed.

  Owen shot me one last look over his shoulder before disappearing.

  Fenton lingered for a moment. “I catch that guy around here again…I’ll kill him.”

  I took a moment to force a laugh, tinny and fake as it was. The smile was about the same, only I knew, inside, I was grateful for the intervention. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I thought about the thing with Owen. Because it couldn’t be anything larger than a thing, otherwise it meant I was putting too much thought toward the situation.