She was waiting for a response to her question and instead he was staring at her like a gawking teenager. She looked up at him, her eyebrows popping up in curiosity.
Focus, focus, he told himself. “Nursery set. Did you see the pregnant woman at the craft fair?”
She shook her head.
“She was big – probably due any week now. Anyway, they wanted a custom-made furniture set with a crib, a dresser and a changing table. This is their first baby and they plan to have more so they’ll be able to pass it down.”
“Oh,” she whispered, and then he was flustered to see tears in her eyes. “Jeremy, do you know what this means?”
He shrugged, at a loss over her emotional reaction.
“You will be a part of this young family. You’ll build this beautiful furniture for their first little baby and it’ll be passed on to more children, and more generations. You’re not just filling a furniture order. You’re helping build their legacy to their family.” She reached up and rested her hands on his arms, cupping his elbows. “This is so special, don’t you see that?”
A smile leapt onto his face, pleased at her revelation. And the feel of her hands on him.
“You’re an artisan, Jeremy, building special items for families to share.”
Where her hands rested on his arms, a warmth blossomed, and his heart raced in response. In her excitement, she dropped her hands and dug in her purse that was strapped over her shoulder. She grabbed a tiny notebook from it and jotted something down. Concentration on the task made her tongue poke out the corner of her mouth and for just a moment he imagined tasting it with his own.
Until he forced himself to look away. Holy moly, what was he thinking?
“Okay,” she announced. She started to turn the notebook toward him, then guarded it back into her chest. “This is just an idea, but see what you think of this as a way to brand your work.”
She revealed the scribbling. In the corner was a small seascape – ocean waves with a sun overhead, crashing onto the sand. A message read, “Made for your family by Jeremy Harrison. It is my hope that this piece of custom-made furniture, built especially for you and yours, holds a place of honor in your family for generations to come.”
He knew she was watching for his reaction as he read it. “Uhhh,…”
“Do you like it?” she asked with a smile. “We could have them made in mass, laminated, maybe a photograph of the beach in the background, and then place them inside the furniture somewhere – in a drawer or taped underneath a table. A little treasure your customers will find.” She studied the scrap of paper, then looked back at him. “What do you think?”
He had very little thought about the idea. In truth, he wouldn’t bother with it if it were up to him. He was still very new to the furniture building business, and who was he to presume that his furniture would be sturdy enough and special enough to be passed down for generations? He had never been one to toot his own horn, and now, less than ever.
But what he did think about was her reaction to her idea, and the fact that she was doing this for him. She was enthused and moved to tears about a way to help him in his business. And that was something he could never forget.
“I think it’s great.”
She beamed her smile. “Really? Do you mind if I move forward with designing and producing these cards? I’ll keep you posted along the way and I’ll let you know of budget.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Well, I don’t think you’d have time to do it. With all the jobs you have in progress here, you’re busy building. I like the idea and I think it sets you apart, so I’ll go ahead and work on it and see if I can’t take care of that for you.”
Standing close to her, breathing in her scent and listening to her rave about his business, his heart felt fuller than he’d ever remembered it. He lifted the control he generally kept over his emotions and his actions, and lost himself for a moment.
He leaned in, put his lips on hers and closed his eyes. For a second, there was no movement, no sound, no sight. Then, she reciprocated. Her lips moved and she tilted her head. He rested his hands behind her neck, then feathered his fingers through her hair. Their lips danced, in tune with each other. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared such an intimate kiss with a woman.
He broke their contact and watched her, his breath coming in little pants. He didn’t have a clue what to do next. She hadn’t fought him, of course. But he was way out of practice in the forays of fledgling relationships between men and women.
“That was nice,” she whispered.
“Yeah. Really nice.”
In the twilight, their bare feet dipping into cool, moist sand and the light disappearing, she looked so good that all he wanted was to do it again. But he stopped himself. This wasn’t just about his wants – he’d have to move through this carefully so as not to blow it with her.
“I like you, Jeremy.” She said it softly, shyly.
“Good. Because I’m thinking I like you, too.”
She giggled again. Why did everything he say make her giggle? Well, it was probably better than some other reactions.
“Let’s not make this weird, okay?” she said.
“Okay.”
So they discussed more advertising ideas she’d brought as the sun set over the ocean and the gulls chirped overhead. And he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.
Chapter Six
Jeremy pulled into the parking lot of the local hardware store. Finishing the baby set would require some supplies — knobs and pulls — and although this place on the island didn't have as much selection as the mega-store in Myrtle Beach, he usually found what he was looking for and it saved time. The sun hit his eyes as he slid out of the truck. It was going to be a hot day for this time of year. He reached back into the truck, grabbed his sunglasses from the visor and slammed the door.
He made his way to the section displaying the handles and knobs and selected a few. Gathering them up, he headed toward the paint section, decided he needed a basket, located one, and loaded it. When he reached the check-out lane, he was the only one in it. He unloaded all his purchases while the clerk rang him up.
He wrote his check for the final amount and handed it over.
“I'll need your license, please.” The clerk took it and looked between the license and the check. Then up at Jeremy. Then back to the license. Then back to Jeremy.
Spending a decade in prison had given him instincts that trouble was close, and they weren’t failing him now. His hair prickled on the back of his neck and his breathing started to speed up. He tuned in on the man working check-out. He was in his mid-forties and showed signs of having worked hard. His hair was receding, lines etched in his face from wiping sweat off his brow in the sun, and his hands carried the calluses of manual labor.
“Jeremy Harrison?” His words were tense, as if spit out of the man's mouth.
Jeremy stayed alert, but inside, he was rolling his eyes and sighing. It happened occasionally that his name caused a negative reaction. He sure hoped this one wouldn't result in an altercation, but it had happened before and he was ready.
“Yes sir?” He looked the man straight in the eye. A glimmer of recognition swept over him but not to the point of knowing the man's name or even how they knew each other.
“From Harrison and Son Construction?” The man squinted his eyes now, studying Jeremy as if trying to find similarities between the man standing before him and the one he last remembered who answered to that name.
“Used to be. That company hasn't existed for a while now. As I bet you know.”
The man handed him his license back and Jeremy slid it into his wallet, replaced it in his pocket. The man's mouth was clamped shut while he finished the transaction and handed Jeremy his bags. When he was done, the squint had become a full-fledged scowl.
“Do we know each other?” Jeremy ventured.
“Oh, I know you all right. Or I should say, I knew you. You t
ook my money to build a house. And you not only left it half done, but the half that was there was shoddy. I had to end up knocking the dang thing down. Set me back a long way. Took me five years before I could afford to build again.”
A fireball of nausea flew down Jeremy's esophagus and landed in his stomach. Only by pure will did he avoid running to the bathroom at the back of the store to relieve himself of his breakfast, scant though it was.
“I'm sorry. I'm sure sorry. I know my actions set a lot of people back, caused a lot of pain.”
“You're damn right they did. I can't believe you walked right in my store. Years I spent cursing your name up one side and down the other. Now I get the chance to tell you face to face just what a chicken shit loser I think you are.”
Jeremy nodded. “Yep. Go ahead.” He steeled himself for a barrage of words, studying his work boots. No sound. Nothing. He looked back up at the man who was examining him with a curious look on his face. “Give me all you got,” Jeremy encouraged.
“I just did.”
Jeremy lifted one side of his mouth. “Hey, whatever you got to give me can't be any worse than I told myself, sir. Ten years I sat in prison. Gives a man a long, long time to consider his mistakes. I was young, I was stupid. I was immature, I was greedy. I took a perfectly stable and honest business my dad had worked for years and destroyed it. I became a dishonest man and I never stopped, until the law stopped me. Believe it or not, half of me is glad that I got arrested and charged. Because it finally forced me to stop the runaway train.”
Both men were silent for a few moments. “You're not gonna get sympathy from me, if that's what you're after.”
“No, I'm not after that at all. I deserve every nasty word, every nasty look, every time my name's been run through the mud. I earned that, fair and square.”
The man's face had calmed, the lines less pronounced, his mouth looser.
Jeremy held out his right hand. “I'd like to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all my actions and how they impacted you. I'm sorry for the hurt I caused you. I mean it, sincerely. I know it doesn't erase what I did, but I want you to know, I did serve my time. I did a lot of thinking and I've reformed. Now that I'm out, I do my very best every day to never go down that road again. I'm under probation and I never miss a meeting with my officer. I'm going to do it right this time.”
The man listened, keeping eye contact through Jeremy's apology. But he hadn’t reached out and taken Jeremy's handshake. That was okay. Jeremy dropped his hand quietly, grabbed his purchases and made for the door. “Have a nice day, sir.”
When he was safely outside, Jeremy let out a breath, and took a moment to calm his racing heart. He bent at the waist, resting his hands on his knees. Eyes squeezed shut, he let his prayer fill his mind, You're with me, Lord. Stay by my side. Help me every day. Then, he straightened, stretched out his tight shoulders and went on with his day.
* * *
Emma finished her work day and on her way to the car, decided it was time to make a visit to Grieders' Stables. It had been a week or more since she'd gotten her horse fix. She rarely let that much time pass between stops.
Buckling her seat belt, she pulled out of the parking lot but curiously, instead of turning in the direction of her little apartment in Myrtle to change into her stable clothes, the car turned in the opposite direction, almost like it was its own decision. She smirked and went with it. The car was heading toward Pawleys Island.
She savored the bright sun shining through her windshield, and when the road dipped close enough for a glimpse of the ocean, she took notice. Even though she was born and raised here, she wasn't the type to not appreciate the beauty and her luck at being native. By the time the little car was crossing the bridge to the island, her radio was blaring and she was singing along: “Lay down, Sally! No need to leave so soon!”
When she was only a few blocks from Jeremy's house, she reminisced on last night's kiss. Again. Afterward, she'd laid in bed, absentmindedly running her fingers over her lips, grinning. It was a good kiss. It was a good start.
Of course, the smart side of her brain cautioned her. Not a good match. Not a good fit. He could hurt you. With his history … and what he did to your family.
She shoved those thoughts out of her head. He'd made mistakes and served his time. He was a different man now.
And she liked him.
She couldn't help the attraction she felt for him. She'd fought it, hadn't she? And her heart wanted what it wanted. Just then, she made herself a promise. She wouldn't over-analyze this one. She'd take it day by day and just let it be.
She pulled in front of his house, ran to the door and knocked. The fact that there was no answer even after waiting a little while, coupled with the sight of his big monstrous pickup truck sitting right there in the driveway, led her to walk around the back. And she was rewarded with the sight of Jeremy, his tee shirt soaked in sweat and clinging to his chest, leaning over the top of a long, squat dresser about waist-high, working the electric sander. He gripped the power tool in his hand, pushing long, even strokes across the smooth wooden surface, back and forth, back and forth. Protective goggles covered his eyes along with the upper half of his face. His biceps bulged and the muscles in his lean back strained against the wet cotton. He took her breath away.
She just stood, enjoying the view.
When he seemed satisfied with his progress, he turned the sander off and pushed his goggles back on his forehead. She did nothing to attract his attention and yet he turned. When he saw her, a big grin popped onto his face. “Emma.”
She made her way over to him and forced herself to admire the piece of furniture, not the handsome piece of man who stood in front of it. “Magnificent.”
“Thanks. I've been working on it all day. Well, started late last night, actually. I'll be ready to paint it and finish it soon.”
“Part of the baby set?” She let her fingers run over the dusty surface.
“Yes. I'm on target to meet the deadline they asked for.”
“Cool.” She pulled her eyes from the wooden piece to meet his gaze. “Feel like a break? Can I pull you away for a few hours?”
He only hesitated a second and a half. “Okay.” He looked up at the sky, probably judging the likelihood of a rain. He lifted a large tarp from the ground and covered the dresser. “I'll need a shower.”
She almost objected — she was taking him to a horse stable after all — but bit her tongue.
“I'll be quick.”
She smiled and nodded. He led her inside and fixed her iced water, then disappeared. He was right — ten minutes later he emerged with fresh clothes, smelling like men's soap. He stopped in front of her.
“You don't really need to be clean, where we're going.”
“Oh?”
She laughed. “One of my favorite spots in the world.” He was giving her a curious look like he was trying to solve a mystery. “Do you want a hint? Give me a second.”
She walked out the front door to her car, opened the trunk and pulled out a gym bag. Carrying it back in, she set it on the floor and pointed to it. “All the hints you need are in there. Be my guest.”
He leaned over to unzip the gym bag. One by one he pulled out items. “Blue jeans, tee shirt, cowboy boots. Hard hat. Are we going to a construction zone?”
She grabbed the hat from him. “Really? Hard hat?” She took his hand and rubbed it over the velvet covering the hardness. “Ring any bells?
He smiled at the black velvet helmet with a little knob on top. “It's a riding helmet. What, are we going to ride horses?”
“That's right! Have you ever ridden before?”
He looked up to the ceiling. “Oh, once? Maybe twice. Long time ago.”
She stepped in close. “Don't worry. I'll take care of you.” As she looked up at him, he leaned in for a kiss. It wasn't as heart-stopping as last night's, but it was warm and nice and it made her pulse race. When he was once again the one to pull away, she caught the nec
k of his shirt and pulled him back for one more.
Now they were done.
“Guess we're getting used to the kisses, huh?” She hated to point out the obvious but she felt obliged to acknowledge this new part of the relationship between them.
“Guess we are. You having any issues with that?”
She smiled. “No, I'm not. How about you?”
He shook his head and ran a gentle hand over her hair, like if he pressed too hard he feared she'd break. Although she wasn't fragile, and she had no qualms about showing him that, he was tender with her. And she liked that.
She changed clothes in his bathroom, and they walked out to her car hand in hand. After driving thirty minutes or so, they pulled into Grieders' Stables. During the drive she'd regaled him with childhood stories about the place, and how much the people meant to her, so when Mr. G came striding up to her, she was happy to see that Jeremy treated him with the respect befitting the man she owed so much to.
After a quick introduction, Mr. G said, “You up for some riding today?”
“We sure are!” Emma said with enthusiasm, swinging her gaze over at Jeremy, who didn't look quite as happy as she was.
“Chores are about caught up, this time of day. But poor Apple hasn't had a trail ride in a week or more. Want to take her?”
“Of course. How about a mount for Jeremy?”
He ran a hand over his chin. “Everybody else is either out, or was out this afternoon.” He took in Jeremy, his size and approximate weight. “I bet Apple could carry you both.”
She nodded. “Thanks, Mr. G. We'll let her stretch her legs, then groom her when we get back.”
The old man waved and ambled away. Emma grabbed Jeremy's arm and led him to the barn. “Apple's a sweetheart. She'll give us a nice, trouble-free ride today.”
He glanced at her with a dubious expression. “Whatever you say.”
She led the way to Apple's stall, released the latch and slipped inside. The horse neighed softly in recognition and nuzzled Emma when she got close. She lifted her arms, wrapping the big animal in a hug. She looked over at Jeremy, who was studying her actions. “Don't be scared.”
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 33
