“Or help the town out,” Owen put in. “You’re right here. It would take us weeks to find someone else, which would put everything on hold.”
Shauntelle found herself holding her breath as various emotions battled within her.
Could she work with him?
Think of your restaurant. The sooner it gets done, the sooner you can make plans for your own future.
“My mother’s health is my first priority,” he warned.
“I’ll be fine,” his mother said, waving off his concerns. “You need to help the town get this arena done, and Shauntelle needs her restaurant going.”
Shauntelle wanted to protest his mother’s defense of her but stopped herself. It was true.
Noah shot her another glance, as if measuring how she felt about this. She wasn’t crazy about the idea. She knew her parents would be livid, but it wasn’t their business on the line.
“I would need to leave from time to time to see how my mother is doing, and if things get bad for her—”
“Noah, stop fussing. I told you I’ll be fine,” Mrs. Cosgrove said. “I’ve got a nurse coming every day, and once I start feeling a bit better I’ll be up and about, managing on my own.”
Noah shoved his hand through his hair as if trying to corral his thoughts. Then he blew out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his reluctance. “Okay. I’ll do it.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it, but at that moment Shauntelle didn’t care.
She would just have to find a way to work with Noah and keep her distance. Physically as well as emotionally.
* * *
“And that’s our safety meeting for the day.” Noah looked around the crew gathered at one end of the unfinished arena, his words echoing in the vast space. He sensed their boredom in the shifting postures and occasional glances at cell phones, which he would have preferred to prohibit completely. “I can’t emphasize enough that a safe working environment is the most important thing.”
It was Wednesday, the second day of him being in charge of the job site, and from the glances the crew exchanged, he could tell they were wondering if they had to deal with this every day.
Too bad. It was his responsibility to make sure they operated in a safe environment.
“Okay, you know what you should be working on, so let’s get to it. And be careful,” he added again. Just in case they didn’t get the message the first couple of times.
They all dispersed, and Noah headed up to the area where the bleachers were being installed.
He was on the first step when someone called his name.
He stopped, confused at the way his heart jumped just a little as he turned to face Shauntelle, who was striding across the dirt floor of the arena, waving a blueprint. Her hair was pulled back and covered with a bandanna. She wore a plain white T-shirt tucked into blue jeans, and she looked fantastic.
She’s not for you, he reminded himself.
Monday he’d spent the whole day with Kyle and Reuben Walsh, who had done the structural assessment. They went over the blueprints, making changes and assessing what to fix.
She came yesterday but he was off-site, dealing with an electrical supply company, and after that he had gone home to check on his mother. While he was there, he’d gotten a call from Kyle saying that Shauntelle wanted to talk to him, but when he came back to the site, she was picking up her daughters from school.
But today here she was, and she didn’t look happy.
“I need to talk to you,” she called out as she came nearer. “It’s about the design you’ve changed.”
Noah mentally shifted gears, wondering what changes she was referring to as he walked over to join her.
“What are you thinking?” she demanded, holding up the blueprint. “Making major changes without consulting me.”
Noah caught the smirk of two younger employees and decided, from the anger on Shauntelle’s face, to take care of this without an audience.
“Come into my office,” he said, indicating the hallway leading to a room he’d taken over as his headquarters.
She looked like she wanted to get this taken care of immediately, but he walked away. There was no way she was confronting him in front of his crew.
He stood aside as she marched into his makeshift office, one of the future changing rooms, then dropped the papers she was carrying on the old wooden table. “Why did you change the entrance to the restaurant without consulting me?”
So that was what this was about.
She smoothed out the blueprint she had with her, the same one he’d been working from, and jabbed her finger on part of it. “This was where we originally decided to put the entrance. Why is it different?”
Noah moved closer to see why she was so upset. As he did, he caught a whiff of her perfume. Light. Fruity. He caught himself and focused on the papers.
“I had structural issues with the entrance’s location,” he said.
“Kyle said that you told him to move it. Why didn’t you talk to me first? Now they’re going to knock a hole in the wall in a different place.” She faced him, her eyes holding an anger that was out of proportion to the issue at hand.
“Not until the end of the week. I tried calling last night but you didn’t answer your phone.”
Shauntelle blinked, then turned away, looking flustered. “Well, I don’t answer my phone when I’m with my daughters or my...my family.”
He heard her hesitation. He guessed her not answering his call had more to do with how her parents might react to a call from him than spending quality time with her family. For a moment he was tempted to throw his hands up and walk away. Leave this job and Cedar Ridge. Her parents’ feelings weren’t changing, no matter how much he did to try to make amends.
But he had given his word, and his mother, in spite of her protestations, needed him.
“You being out of reach might prove problematic,” Noah said, turning his attention back to her. “If we’re working together and you want to be involved with this building project, I need to be able to get ahold of you.”
“Send a text then” was her terse reply.
Right. Because texting was more unobtrusive and impersonal. He stifled another sigh. “I guess I can do that,” he said. “As long as you reply as soon as possible.”
“As soon as I can,” she returned. “Now, talk to me about this entrance. What’s wrong with where it was supposed to be initially?”
“If we put it where you want, we’ll have to take a support out and I’m not compromising the integrity of that bearing wall. That’s why I suggested what I did.”
“But that’s too far off in the corner. It’s in a poor traffic area. People won’t see it, or the snack bar. It will create a crowd in a corner, which will impact my business. That’s why the previous contractor and I chose this spot.”
“But the previous contractor isn’t here now, is he?” That came out harsher than he meant. He could see from the way her eyes narrowed that she caught it as well.
“I used my own discretion when I decided to move it,” Noah said.
Shauntelle pressed her lips together. He saw she was getting frustrated with him.
“I’m trying to make a go of this business. I’m competing with two other restaurants in town. I need every single advantage I can get,” she said, her tone clipped. Clearly she wasn’t happy with him. Well, that wasn’t anything new.
“And I’m trying to make sure the job site is safe for my workers as well as the building,” he said. “Surely you should understand that.”
He could tell his shot hit home from the look of shock on her face. As if he had mentioned the unmentionable.
But then, to his surprise, she held his gaze, her look assessing. As if she was trying to figure him out.
He didn’t look away either, and he thought he glimpsed sorrow on her fac
e. Then she glanced down.
He knew, however, that he couldn’t ignore it. Whether he liked it or not, he needed to deal with the shadow of her brother’s death—and Noah’s involvement.
“I never gave you my condolences personally,” he said, taking a chance, hoping it might ease the tension between them. “About your brother.”
She turned on him, her eyes angry now. “No. You didn’t. I noticed. So did my parents. We also noticed that you didn’t come to the funeral.” He shouldn’t be surprised at her anger, since it likely stemmed from her grief and possibly the frustration of the change in her plans.
“Would you have wanted me there?” he returned, forcing himself to stay calm. To face her anger without getting pulled into the morass of guilt he’d fallen into after Josiah’s death.
She didn’t look away, but her eyes lost some of their snap and she shook her head. “Probably not.”
He tapped his fingers on the blueprint, wishing he could find the right words to make her understand.
“Well, you need to know I think of him every day. Every day I regret what happened and wish I could change it,” he said. He wanted to add that he hadn’t been found to be at fault; however, that wouldn’t change anything. Her brother had died working for him. That could never be erased.
She turned away, swallowing, and he wondered if she would cry.
But she pulled in a deep, slow breath, as if to compose herself, then turned back to him.
“That’s good to know,” she said, a small peace offering. “I appreciate you helping out. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t.”
“Put the door where I don’t want it?”
She chuckled at that, and the sound was a gentle easing away of the momentary tension.
“I wish we could make this work,” she said, resting her hands on her hips, frowning at the blueprint. “The building, that is. What if we change the opening? I had envisioned one large entrance with double glass doors. What if we keep it in the same place but switch it to two doors split by the support? It’s not what I had planned, but if it means keeping the entrance where I want...”
Noah scratched his cheek with a forefinger, considering this. “I think that could work. I wouldn’t be sacrificing the integrity of the building if we can keep that main support in place.”
She chewed her lip, then bent over to look closer at the blueprint. As she did, her bandanna fell over her face.
Noah blamed his reaction on instinct. He reached over and gently pushed it back up on her head.
Her gaze flew to his, eyes wide, hands still holding on to the blueprint.
He saw her swallow, take a quick breath, then look away.
“Please don’t do that again,” she whispered, looking intently at the prints in her hand.
He said nothing, annoyed with himself but also with her overreaction. It was a simple thing. A tiny way of helping her.
Even if it had made his own heart flip and his breath quicken.
“Don’t worry. I won’t.” He knew he had to keep his distance if he was going to get through the next couple months and leave fancy-free. He had no intention of getting involved with someone who would create so many complications.
Chapter Six
“Can we go out for supper tonight?” Millie shouted from the family room as soon as Shauntelle set foot inside her parents’ house.
“Can you give me a minute to think?” she called back, slipping her laptop case off her shoulder and leaning against the door, catching her breath.
“Okay,” came Millie’s answer.
Thankfully, that seemed to be that.
Shauntelle was bone weary, and it was only Thursday. Today she had been in Calgary, dealing with the equipment supply place to arrange shipment, so she’d avoided Noah.
Wednesday evening she’d made the mistake of telling her parents what Noah said that day and regretted it. No sooner had she told them than her mother cried and her father got angry and left the room. The tension made her even more aware of Noah.
When he had so casually pushed her bandanna back on her head, she was unsettled at the shock his touch gave her. Her reaction made her feel pathetic, and yet, his gesture had been oddly endearing.
It touched a part of her that had been missing the tender caring of a spouse. A partner. Her parents were still so lost in their grief and bitterness that they didn’t have time to reach out. Shauntelle understood, but there were many times when she was grieving and lonely and longed for a hug or some human connection from someone who wanted to give. Not just take.
Margaret walked into the kitchen, followed by Millie. Both of them were grinning like they had something planned.
“What is going on?” she asked, her mom radar activating.
Millie feigned innocence. “We’re hungry, and we haven’t been out for ages and ages.”
“Hardly ages,” Shauntelle said, pushing herself away from the door. “And I’m sure Gramma made something for us to eat before they left for Calgary.” She was surprised they’d gone to the city. Thankfully they had hired Nick Herbert, who worked part-time as a dishwasher at the Brand and Grill, to cover for them, so she couldn’t begrudge them the time away. Right now she was relieved she didn’t have to face her parents again.
Millie shook her head. “Nope. Nothing.”
“Let me think about it,” was all she would say, though making supper certainly had less appeal than the short drive to the café did.
“There’s a super-great special on at the Brand and Grill,” Margaret said, holding up the local paper. “Ribs and corn bread and lemon pie for dessert.” She gave Shauntelle a sly smile. “We know how you love your lemon pie, and Mr. Muraski makes good lemon pie even if he is a grouch.”
Shauntelle grinned at Margaret’s comment. “I like lemon pie.”
“So we can go?” Millie pressed.
Shauntelle glanced over at the kitchen. The thought of making supper was simply too much for her. “Sure. That sounds good.”
And before she could get another word out, they grabbed their spring jackets and were out the door, giggling. She followed, stifling the vague sense that something was afoot, then brushed it aside. She couldn’t keep up with her daughters these days. Far easier to just go with the flow.
They climbed in, buckled up and were whispering, heads bent together, when Shauntelle got back in the vehicle.
“So how long are we going to be using Gramma’s car?” Millie asked.
“I don’t know, honey.” She had so many other things to juggle, and a vehicle was far down the list. “Why do you ask?”
“Grandpa was asking Gramma how long you would use it, and Gramma said it was up to her and to leave her alone. Then Grandpa said it was bad enough you are working with that evil man but you using her car to do it made it worse.”
Shauntelle’s hands clenched the steering wheel as she headed down the street, fighting down guilt, anger and hurt. Why would her father say that? The girls overhearing was not his fault. They were like little spies, sneaking about, catching whatever tidbits of information they could, without realizing the import of what they passed on.
But the result was strain on a relationship that was already heavy with grief and loss and proximity—and the added stress of her working with Noah every day.
Help me deal with this all, Lord, she prayed, struggling with her latent sorrow. Help me to lean on You.
She pulled in a slow breath, as if to let the prayer settle. She glimpsed her smiling daughters in her rearview mirror, happy with the unexpected outing. In this moment, things were okay, she reminded herself. Hold on to that.
She got out of the car just as the girls piled out, chattering their excitement about this special treat.
“Can we order ice cream with sprinkles?” Millie asked as she held open the door for Shauntelle.
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“I think that’s a possibility,” Shauntelle said, smiling at her precocious daughter, thankful for this unexpected one-on-one time with the twins.
“I want nuts on mine,” Margaret said. “Our teacher told us yesterday that nuts are healthy.”
“But ice cream isn’t healthy, so it doesn’t matter,” Millie, her daughter with an answer for everything, shot back.
Adana, a tall, slim girl with cropped dark hair, greeted them with a vague smile and a languid flip of her hand. “Just sit wherever,” she said as she dropped menus into the holder. “I got an order to run.”
“I know where I want to sit,” Millie said, and charged ahead, Margaret right behind her.
Shauntelle followed them, then stifled a groan. Just her luck.
The girls sat at a table with Noah and his mother. And from the way Millie and Margaret were chatting with them, she suspected this was part of some plan they had concocted. The worst part was, she knew there was no way out.
* * *
This had to be a setup.
Noah looked from Shauntelle’s ticked-off expression to the giggling girls sitting at the table right beside him and his mother. The three chatted like old friends, and Shauntelle didn’t look pleased.
Well, neither was he.
He had wondered why his mother had been so insistent that they eat out tonight. She told him it was so he didn’t have to cook, but he had pulled out a couple of chicken breasts this morning and bought potatoes and vegetables at the store, so he was prepared.
Now, as his mother smiled her welcome at Shauntelle, he guessed something else was up. Especially since she asked him every day how Shauntelle was, commenting on what a lovely girl she was and how adorable her daughters were. And wasn’t she simply the best cook, she had asked after they had finished one of her meat pies.
Subtle and mother were not words he put together very often.
“Well, well, here you are,” his mother said with a huge smile. “Funny we should meet you and your adorable daughters here.”
Funny indeed. His mother and her daughters were up to something.
A Cowboy for the Twins Page 7
