by Debby Mayne
“I never asked you to—,” he began.
“No, you didn’t,” she conceded, interrupting him. “But if that’ll get this whole project over with faster, I’ll work with you this once. What time do you want to get started?”
“Seven.”
“Seven?” she shrieked. “I won’t even be up at seven.”
With a shrug Ed said, “Okay, what time do you want me to be here?”
Jill glanced down at her feet, thought for a moment, then looked at the wall behind him, not daring to meet his gaze again. It was too dangerous.
“I’ll be here at seven.”
He chuckled. “I’ve already told you this job will take a few weeks. If you trust me enough to give me a key, I can let myself in.”
Jill gulped then nodded. “I’ll have it for you in the morning.”
The moment Ed left, the place seemed empty. Most of the remainder of the afternoon was slow, with the exception of a few stragglers, one of them Mrs. Crenshaw, who came in once a week and purchased every piece of milk glass Jill had been able to find. As soon as she’d wrapped the order and carried it to Mrs. Crenshaw’s car, Jill glanced at one of her many clocks and decided she could go ahead and leave now. The sign on the door said she was open until six, and she still had fifteen minutes to go, but she was mentally exhausted.
She grabbed her purse and backed toward the door. Maybe tomorrow she could work on the checkbook and figure out where the ten-dollar mistake was since she’d be here before the store opened. She’d planned to call the bank today, but Ed Mathis had distracted her, and it was too late now; the bank was closed.
Oh, well. Jill started to pull the door to, then remembered her keys were on the counter. She shoved the door open, ran across the wooden plank floor, grabbed the keys, and headed for the door again. When she got to the porch, she saw a familiar male figure coming up the sidewalk.
“Closing for the day?” Ed asked as he took a glance at his watch. “A little early, isn’t it?”
“It’s my business, and I can leave whenever I feel like it.”
“So why do you even bother posting hours on the sign?” he asked, nodding toward the wooden plaque on the door. “Instead of saying you’re open from ten to six, you should have said you open whenever you get here and leave whenever you feel like it.”
Jill reached up and shoved an annoying strand of hair behind her ear. “Hey, don’t worry about it, Ed.”
“I’m not worried,” he said. “But wouldn’t it be a shame to miss out on a big sale just because you didn’t stick around until closing time?”
“Why?” she asked as she stopped in her tracks. “You planning on buying something big?”
He shrugged and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “Maybe.”
She fumbled with her keys. “Want me to open back up?”
“Nah,” he said as he continued looking at her in a way that made her very uncomfortable. Those eyes seemed to be all-knowing, his mouth set in a perpetual tilt of amusement, not to mention the fact that he was very handsome in an almost too-perfect sort of way. His hair was clean and freshly cut and his jeans appeared to have been ironed, maybe even starched.
Jill glanced down at her own tattered jeans. They weren’t dirty, but they’d never seen an iron. And her T-shirt had been a promotional giveaway from the bank when she’d opened her account. His shirt had a collar and an emblem on the pocket. They were obviously polar opposites.
As if to drive the point home, another strand of hair fell over her eyes. Ed reached over and gently tucked it behind her ear. What was up with that? She stepped back and shook her head, letting the strand fall loose again. She tilted her head to one side and watched him grimace. Served him right for being too persnickety. Without a word, she headed toward her car.
“Don’t forget to have a key made,” he said as he watched her unlock her car that was parked along the side of the curb. “That is, if you trust me.”
“I’ll have it made sometime tomorrow,” she said. “Probably during lunch.”
“Sounds good.” Ed remained standing on the sidewalk.
She wished he’d leave or at least turn around.
“I need to run. The nanny can’t stay past six.”
“Nanny?” She stopped cold in her tracks.
He nodded. “Yeah, I have twin daughters.”
“You do?” She didn’t know he was attached, but what should that matter? “You’re married?”
He shook his head. “My wife developed complications during her pregnancy and died after she delivered them. As soon as I was able to get back to work, I had to hire a nanny.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I’m really sorry. Sometimes I say stupid—”
“That’s okay.” Ed’s smile was tender. “My girls and I are just fine.”
Jill didn’t know what to do, so she smiled back. Now she felt even more awkward.
It had been a very long time since Jill had been self-conscious because, quite frankly, she hardly ever cared what a man thought about her. She was what she was, and she wasn’t about to change her ways.
Her perfectionist father had been such a stickler. He’d ruined any desire she might’ve had for ever wanting to dress up or do housework, which was why her shop and her house both looked as if someone had shaken them and left things where they’d landed. But that was the way she liked her life, and it was too bad if someone thought she was a mess.
Her small house was situated on a narrow, tree-lined residential road off Peachtree Street, about a mile from the shop. She’d decided to start out small, and as the shop grew she would reassess her life and maybe get something nicer or fix up her place. For now, though, the cottage with the overgrown yard was perfect for her. One of these days she planned to do something about the shaggy shrubs and the weeds in the flower garden. She’d already pulled up some of the kudzu, because one of the neighbors had warned her how it would take over everything else if she didn’t. But that’s where she stopped. She had other things to fill her time for now.
Since her driveway was covered in weeds and she didn’t want to take a chance on getting a flat tire from whatever else lay in the path, she didn’t bother parking in the carport in the backyard by the alley. She pulled up and parallel-parked at the curb in front of her house.
The front porch still needed a coat of paint, something she’d intended to do first thing when she moved in, but she hadn’t gotten around to yet. Even if it never got done, as far as Jill was concerned, it was no big deal.
She had no doubt all of this would annoy Ed. He was obviously a perfectionist—just like her father, which was the biggest reason she needed to keep her emotions in check.
Jill slipped the key in the lock and turned it as she jiggled the handle to open the door. This thing always stuck. Almost everything in Jill’s life stuck, creaked, or squeaked. She was used to it.
Once inside her tiny house, Jill flipped on the switch. The ceiling light cast a dull glow over the room. She hadn’t bothered picking up her blanket from the sofa, where she’d fallen asleep the night before. Oh, well, let it stay there, she thought. She’d need it again tonight.
Ever since Jill had started her business, she’d had a hard time falling asleep in her bed. So she reclined on the sofa and watched late-night talk shows, which had become so boring and predictable she was eventually able to go to sleep. This pattern would be a tough one to break, but that didn’t matter. Jill lived alone, and she could do anything she pleased.
Her father would turn over in his grave if he could see how his daughter lived amidst all this clutter. His motto had been, “Everything has its place.”
Sure, at times Jill felt guilty that she’d abandoned her upbringing and his rules, but he was gone and couldn’t see it anyway. So what did it matter?
Dishes were still piled in the sink from breakfast, so she opened the dishwasher and shoved them all inside to expose a little counter space. Maybe she’d run a load soo
n and put them away. Or maybe she’d just leave them in the dishwasher and pull them out as needed. What did it matter?
She popped a frozen dinner in the microwave and left the kitchen to find her collectibles magazine to read while she ate. By the time she returned to the kitchen the buzzer had gone off, letting her know her food was ready.
Although this wasn’t the way she’d envisioned her life, Jill was perfectly content. . .well, most of the time, anyway. No unnecessary rules; no one to tell her where to be or when to be there; no restrictions on food or someone standing over her making sure she had three squares. Just her life to be lived the way she wanted.
She wasn’t lonely.
Jill sighed. Who was she trying to kid? She’d give her favorite knickknack to have someone to talk to right now. Someone who understood her and cared enough to listen.
“Oh, well, it’s not going to happen anytime soon,” she mumbled to herself. She picked the magazine back up and forced herself to look at it.
As she flipped the pages, she noticed how neatly the items in the pictures were arranged. Once Ed finished building her shelves in the back room, she could do a much better job of organizing her merchandise and have arrangements ready to be placed on the shelves.
Suddenly she slammed the magazine shut. Once his image had popped into her head, she wasn’t able to get rid of it. She so needed a break—which included not thinking about the man who reminded her way too much of her father and his neatnik ways.
Jill let out a sigh. It was still early enough that she could probably head for the mall and find someone to duplicate the key to the store. Any work Ed did before she arrived would put him that much closer to completing the job and getting him out of there. He had daughters. That one fact alone was a good enough reason to stop thinking about him. She did not need to worry, or even think, about children—too much responsibility.
❧
Ed fully expected to have to wait for Jill, but he reached the store bright and early the next morning. He’d picked up a sack of muffins on the way so he could have breakfast under the big oak tree outside the shop and enjoy the early morning hours.
Life was so busy these days that he loved taking a few minutes here and there to enjoy some of God’s blessings. There was nothing better than the sounds and smells of early morning. Animals work hard for survival, he thought, as a squirrel scampered by, carrying a nut to the next tree. He inhaled deeply and relished the freshness of the crisp north Georgia air. Fall had arrived, but a few protected floral stragglers remained in the yard around Jill’s shop. Ed loved everything about the Atlanta area—from the terrain to the variety of people who’d made it their home.
“You weren’t kidding, were you?” he heard from behind.
He licked his lips and swallowed the last bite of his muffin. “I never expected to see you here this early.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Then why did you come? For the thrill of making me feel guilty for making you wait?”
“Maybe,” he teased.
Jill brushed past him and headed straight for the door. She shoved her key in hard and turned it. She had to lean into the door to get it to open; then it creaked.
“That probably just needs some WD-40,” he said.
“Whatever.” Jill reached over and flipped a light switch, then went to the counter and dropped her purse and the other bag she was carrying on the floor. She spun around and held up something shiny. “Here’s your key.”
Ed smiled as he reached for the key he thought he’d never have. “So you do trust me after all.”
Three
Ed felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and take her hand, to assure her he was trustworthy.
He would never do anything to hurt any client, especially her. In the short time he’d known her, his protective nature had kicked into high gear.
“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t trust you?” she asked, her voice low and unsure.
“No reason at all, Jill. C’mon—let me show you what we have to do.” His voice cracked.
Jill’s eyes grew rounder as she followed him from room to room.
“This is going to cost me a fortune, even if I’m only charged for materials,” she said with a groan. “And I’m sunk.”
“Not necessarily,” he said. “It’s not as bad as it seems. The only thing you have to remember is to let me do my job. As a builder I get construction materials at wholesale.”
She finally sighed and nodded. “Okay, do what you have to do. I have to trust you.”
Ed felt his chest constrict. He wanted her trust more than he’d realized.
Less than an hour later Matt showed up. “Finish it quickly,” Ed quietly told him. “Keep in mind Jill’s getting a little nervous about all this. Whatever you do, don’t let on how much it costs. Just give me the bill, okay?”
Matt grinned. “She’s your new pet project, huh?” Ed’s friends had always teased him about wanting to rescue people in distress. Matt leaned back, looked at the woman with the wild curls piled on top of her head, then glanced back at Ed. “Not bad, Ed. She’s really cute. You could do much worse.”
Ed knew Matt couldn’t possibly understand the conflicting feelings he had for Jill. Even he didn’t fully understand them. Yes, he was attracted to her; but, no, he wasn’t about to act on his feelings.
But he wasn’t able to get her out of his mind, either, even when a wall stood between them. Her innocent and trusting expressions chipped away at the shield he’d placed over his heart after his wife died. He tightened his jaw. Being around Jill evoked a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
Each time he caught a whiff of her spicy fragrance, he found his mind drifting into territory he’d been avoiding since Marcy died. After all he’d gone through with losing his wife, Ed felt it was best to guard against any chance of losing his heart again.
“Ed!” he heard Jill holler from the front room. “I hate to bother you, but could you come in here a minute?”
He propped the sheet of drywall he’d been working with against a stud and rushed to see what she needed. When he got to the door, he saw her standing dangerously close to the edge of the top rung of a stepladder, reaching as high as her arms would go, but still not high enough to get the ceramic rooster off the top shelf.
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to stand on the top step?” He offered her a hand.
“I really need that rooster,” she said as she took his hand and cautiously stepped down.
“Okay.” Ed helped her down, then moved the ladder to one side.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she asked. “Even you can’t reach that without a ladder.”
Ed moved quickly to the back room, grabbed the taller ladder, and hoisted it into place. “If you’re gonna stick stuff up that high, I suggest you get the equipment you need.”
“You’re the one who put it back up there.”
“Only because you wanted it there,” he replied as gently as he could.
She placed her hands on her hips and watched him. Her eyes showed a combination of emotions besides frustration—anger, relief, and maybe even a little admiration—as he grabbed hold of the rooster and began to descend the ladder.
“Hey, be careful with that. That thing cost me a fortune.”
Ed chuckled. “Who woulda guessed?”
As soon as Ed offered it to her, Jill reached for it. “Don’t pass judgment on something you know nothing about,” she said as their fingers touched.
The tight sensation in his chest should have served as a warning to keep his distance, but the look in her eyes held him captive for a few seconds—just long enough for him to lose his breath.
Jill glanced down at the floor as she took a step back, nearly falling over the basket that lay on the floor behind her. Ed caught her just in time.
“Whoa there,” he said as he cupped his palms beneath her elbows.
He refrained from saying anything about the clutter on the fl
oor. That wouldn’t serve any purpose at the moment, and he knew it.
To keep her from falling, he instinctively pulled her to him. She was still hanging on to the rooster, which slammed him in the chest.
“Ouch!” he said. He let go and inhaled deeply. “That thing’s lethal.”
Jill tilted her head and glared at him. “You’re determined to make me feel stupid, aren’t you?”
“Why would you say that?”
She backed toward the counter and carefully set the rooster down. “First of all, you tell me I can’t build sturdy enough shelves to hold my excess stock. Then you tell me this place is falling apart and that my investment is worthless. And now you’re making fun of what I sell. I’ll have you know—”
Ed held up his hands to shush her. “Stop right there, Jill. I’m just here to do a job. I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“But you did.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sniffed. That protective feeling still hadn’t left Ed. He shuffled his feet and tried to redirect his thoughts.
“Apology accepted.”
“You asked me to help you get something down off the top shelf. If you want me to stay away from you, just tell me right now.”
She blinked a couple of times, but to his surprise she didn’t say anything.
❧
Jill couldn’t remember the last time she’d shown her emotions in front of a man. Her father had forbidden her to shed tears, because he said it was a sign of weakness. After practicing keeping a stiff upper lip, Jill couldn’t imagine letting her fears be known to someone she’d only met yesterday.
This business was what she’d dreamed of all her life. Her grandmother had had a house filled with knickknacks and fun little figurines that delighted Jill from her earliest memory. Moving around from one military base to another had prevented her from collecting all the items she’d loved as a child. So she’d promised to surround herself with pretty and fun things when she was grown. Her own collections had inspired her desire to be in the collectibles business, where she could talk to and help people with common interests all day long.
