by Skye Jordan
Faith shrugged as she finished rolling a strand, secured the end and started on another. She’d be here the rest of the day untangling these things. “Hey, Caleb,” she yelled through the store. “If you come untangle these lights for me, I’ll pay you.”
“Stop avoiding the question,” Taylor said.
When Caleb didn’t yell back or appear, Faith muttered, “So much for working here. Guess I’ll be hiring Billy Danielson after all.” Then she told Taylor, “Grant’s staying with his parents. Apparently, they don’t get along all that well, so he picked up some odd jobs around the house to stay busy and away from them. He’s always here picking up supplies and asking for advice.”
“And? Are you helping him?”
“Sure.” She smiled up at Taylor now. “I tell him to search YouTube.”
“Faith…” Taylor dropped her arms and rolled her eyes.
“I don’t have time to babysit him. He’s a grown-ass man. He can figure it out himself.”
Taylor heaved an exasperated sigh.
“And speaking of YouTube, when can we get together to figure something out for me? I’m serious, Taylor. I’m bleeding money faster than it’s getting pumped back in. It’s only a matter of time. Do you want me to sell this place and move away from you and Caleb? Because that’s about where my life is headed at the moment.”
A pained look came over Taylor’s face. Faith hated to paint such a bleak picture, but she was very serious. And that was what Faith saw in her future.
“Fine.” Taylor crossed her arms again. “You need to think of a project, and I need to get some things done so I can focus on teaching you the steps—”
Faith didn’t hear anything Taylor said after that, because Grant sauntered around the corner and into their aisle. His gaze fastened on Faith with bold deliberateness and made her stomach jump to her throat.
“Do I hear you ladies talking about YouTube?” he asked, wandering toward them. Taylor spun around, but Grant’s gaze stayed locked on Faith in a way that made her mouth go dry. A slow smile tipped his mouth. “Because I’d be real interested in getting in on a video with y’all.”
A laugh bubbled up from nowhere. “Y’all?” Faith said, hiding her nerves behind sarcasm. “You picked up a Southern accent in the last…” She pretended to look at a nonexistent watch. “What? Three, four hours?”
He laughed. “You’re so funny.”
“I try.” She pulled her gaze off all the muscle stretching the soft fabric of his Henley and grabbed another string of lights. “I need something to keep me from”—fantasizing about you—“going insane.”
“Hi,” Taylor said, extending her hand. “I’m Taylor, Caleb’s mom.”
“Grant,” was all he offered as they shook. “Yeah, saw him messing around with the fishing poles. He told me you were back here.” He took his hand back and slipped his thumb into the front pocket of his jeans, which drew Faith’s gaze to an area she had no business looking at. “Great kid. Little hyper for hockey, but if I can get him to channel it, he’s going to streak across the ice.”
Taylor laughed. “If you get him to channel it, I’ll pay handsomely for the secret.” She looked at Faith. “I’d better go find him before he breaks something.” Then she told Grant, “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
When his gaze settled on Faith again, he grinned. And it was that expectant grin. The one that said he was waiting for her to go all batshit crazy over him.
“What have you got there?” she asked instead, glancing at the rusted faucet he held in his hand. “And how are you finding so many things that need fixing at your parents’ house? That place looks like a pristine mansion from the outside.”
“Kitchen faucet,” he said, “and it’s not from the main house, it’s from the guesthouse. That’s where I’m staying. And when I’m fixing something, neither of my parents bitch at me. So I’m happy to do it.”
“That has to suck.”
He lifted a shoulder but broke eye contact and studied the faucet. “Whatever.” He refocused on her. “Are you going to wind all those yourself?”
“I tried to tempt Caleb with a paycheck, but those fishing reels must have really caught his eye.”
“I’ll help.” He moved forward. “And you don’t even have to pay me.”
She smirked. “Oh no?”
He dropped into a crouch, looked her directly in the eye, and grinned. “I’m more into trades.”
Setting aside the faucet, he dropped to his butt, crossed his legs, and grabbed the tail end of a light strand.
“We’re not trading anything,” she clarified.
“That remains to be seen.”
“You must have better things to do.”
“Than sit here and look at you?” he asked. “Nope. Notta one.” When Faith just shook her head, he asked, “So what’s your project? The one you were talking to Taylor about?”
Faith’s stomach tightened. “How long were you eavesdropping?”
“Why? Saying things you don’t want me to hear? About me maybe?”
“Pfffft. We weren’t talking about you.”
“If you say so. But it would probably be better for you to just tell me about the video you’re planning, because I’m sure your version would be tamer than the things I have rolling around my brain right now.”
“And why are you so sure of that?” She was caught between annoyance at his arrogance and amusement at the lengths he was going to gain her attention. “Because I live in the boondocks, you don’t think I can think just as dirty as you?”
His hands halted in the middle of winding a strand. He lifted his brows in a teasing expression, but his pretty eyes took on a little shadow of heat. “Should we compare notes?”
Man, that voice. The smooth, low rumble settled heat low in her gut. But she chirped, “No, thanks.”
And he chuckled, refocusing on the lights. “Hey, I’m really sorry to hear about your dad.”
The warm, authentic tone of his voice drew her head up.
He glanced at her, then back at the lights. “I didn’t know him well, but he was always real nice to me.”
The sadness that always came with the reminder of her father’s death weighed heavy in her heart. “Thanks. He was an amazing man.”
They continued to wind lights in silence for a minute or two, but the time stretched into an eternity while Faith kept trying to figure him out.
When she couldn’t and her frustration won out, Faith tied off another strand and tossed it into the growing pile. “Why are you sitting on the floor winding lights?”
He looked up. “I’m helping.”
She tipped her head and gave him a come-on look.
He grinned, shrugged. “Maybe I’m trying to come up with a way to ask you out that you can’t refuse.” He darted a glance at her from beneath those thick lashes. “Maybe I’m hoping if you get to know me a little, you’ll say yes. Maybe—”
“Maybe you don’t want to go home,” she finished for him.
“Maybe. But those other things are true too.” He tossed another rolled strand into the pile. “I’m dying to know what project you’ve got planned with this mess.”
She sighed—partly because of the mess in front of her and partly because over the last couple of days, she’d grown to like the guy. And she didn’t want to like him. “This isn’t my proj—”
Something clicked in her head. Her hands froze. And she looked at the pile again, but this time she saw something other than a headache. She saw an opportunity.
“What just put that spark in your eye?” Grant asked.
She met his gaze, and when she found true interest there, she explained her thoughts about following Taylor’s example on YouTube. “Taylor makes really good money doing it. Granted, she talks about a totally different topic, and my knowledge may not generate the same interest, but…”
“But you’ve got to try.” He leaned back against a shelf, stretched out his legs, and crossed his feet at
the ankles. Then met her eyes as he tossed more lights into the pile. “Because from what I heard, it sounds like you don’t have much of a choice.”
Her shoulders fell, and she looked away, ashamed to be stuck in this spot. Worse, she hated telling a stranger how desperate she was. Especially a stranger who had more money than he knew what to do with. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure you will,” he said, his voice confident and sincere. “But you might figure it out faster if you let me help.” When she shot him an exasperated look, he held up both hands. “No ulterior motive. Okay, other than staying as far away from my parents as possible. And, yeah, maybe I’d like to get to know you better. I never got the chance in high school. That Brady kid had you hog-tied.”
“So you’re the Saber who was in my class.”
“Guilty. And I know a little about video. Shooting, cutting, and editing it. Getting it up online. That’s what you want help with, isn’t it?”
“Partly, yes.” Faith wondered when he was going to throw in his professional hockey player status. When he was going to mention how much money he had. When he’d start dropping the names of other famous people he hung with in the big city.
He grabbed another strand of lights and started winding. “And…”
“I knew it,” she said. “Here it comes.”
“I’d also like to do something to cheer up Dwayne.”
Faith frowned. “How’d you know this all came from Dwayne?”
“I saw him leaving. And who else in town has enough equipment for a freaking Christmas in Fantasia?”
“Good point.”
“It’s a hard time of year for him since MaryAnn passed. I know it would mean a lot to him if he could get this working for her. For the people in town who have looked forward to it every year for decades.”
Ah, crap… Faith sighed heavily. He had to be handsome and hot and sweet?
“What?”
She just shook her head.
“Too proud?”
“What?” she asked.
“Are you too proud to accept help?” he asked.
She pressed her lips together.
He laughed, nodded. “I sorta figured that one out the night we met.”
“Shut up.”
After tying off the last strand of lights, he tossed them into a pile. He got to his feet, waited for Faith to finish her strand, then offered a hand to help her up.
She took it and immediately regretted it. He was big and strong and warm. And the intimacy of the simple touch crushed another barrier between them. Then he pulled her to her feet with enough force to tip her off-balance, and she fell into him with a squeak. Her chest hit his; their thighs bumped. She pulled in a shocked breath and tried to ease away, but he’d already slipped his arm around her waist and held her tight. Their bellies pressed. Their hips aligned.
“Grant…”
Grant what? Her mind told her to tell him to let her go. But her body didn’t want to have anything to do with that idea.
“Still have my number?” he asked.
But the words didn’t register in Faith’s head. All she could focus on was every point where their bodies connected. The way his forearm felt low on her back. The heat of his hand curved around her waist. The way a few of his fingers touched flesh where her shirt had ridden up. The thickness of his thigh between hers.
“Faith?”
She glanced up. Oh, shit—wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He was looking down at her, his lips right there. Right. There.
Faith had forgotten how to breathe.
She watched his lips as he spoke again. “Do you still have my number?”
“No.” She forced herself to at least sound like she was in control. “I threw it out.”
His lips kicked up in a lopsided grin and his straight, white teeth contrasted with his tanned skin. He released her hand and reached around to his back pocket but still held her tight against his body. Then his hand came back, stroking her hip, rounding behind her, and sliding over her ass.
Tingles seared her skin. Heat flooded every inch of her body below the waist. She sucked a breath. “Grant—”
“There,” he said, pulling his hand from her pocket and loosening the arm around her waist. “Now you have it again.”
He released her but let his hand rest on her hip an extra second before leaning away. Just when Faith thought she had her feet back under her, he lifted a hand and brushed a lock of hair off her forehead, then tucked it behind her ear.
Faith closed her eyes. She couldn’t help it.
His knuckles grazed her cheekbone before he murmured, “Call me, beautiful. We’ll get your video made. Get you back on your feet.”
She swallowed and shored up her strength before she opened her eyes again.
Just in time to see him turn the corner out of the aisle and disappear.
5
Grant pulled into a parking spot at the end of the street and watched customers come and go from St. Nicholas Hardware. It had been four days since he’d almost kissed Faith, right there in the middle of her damned store. Not only hadn’t she called him to help with her pet project, but she continued to treat him as if the scorching heat between them was a figment of his imagination.
In truth, he was starting to believe it. He was starting to believe that he’d lost his ability to read a woman. That he was seeing and feeling things that weren’t there only because he wanted them so badly.
This was a simple matter of wanting what he couldn’t have. That was all. He’d never had to chase a woman, and his competitive streak just wouldn’t give up until she admitted she wanted him. At this point, he didn’t even care if he slept with her or not. He could get sex anywhere. He just wanted her to give. To acknowledge who and what he was. To show a sliver of real interest.
Then he was sure this ridiculous infatuation would end.
He climbed from the SUV, pocketed his keys, and pulled on his Braves ball cap before strolling toward the store. Grant checked out the front windows of other shops and returned friendly hellos from pedestrians. This was something he did miss about small-town life. And, he had to admit, he also found a soothing sort of rhythm in being able to focus on a project or a practice. On the quiet country setting. On the sounds of nature. All without a million other pressures on his mind.
He hadn’t realized he’d missed it until now.
As Christmas approached, now less than a week away, Faith’s store seemed busier every time he stopped in. That was great for Faith. Not so great for Grant. When she was busy, she barely gave him the time of day. On the occasions when things were slow, he’d been able to cajole her into helping him get what he needed for whatever project he’d adopted. Though, he hadn’t been able to hold her interest any longer.
He was beginning to think he’d blown it by pushing her that day—even though he hadn’t pushed her near as far as he’d wanted to. He cursed his lack of finesse. But he was who he was. He didn’t like or want slow and sweet. Which made him question his own judgment every time he had a dirty thought about “the sweetest girl in town.”
“Because I live in the boondocks, you don’t think I can think just as dirty as you?”
Her words jumped to mind, followed by a wicked flash of heat from head to toe.
“A man could dream,” he muttered under his breath.
Regardless of whether she turned out to be the biggest prude he’d ever met or the nastiest lay he’d ever coveted, Faith Nicholas was very different from any woman he’d ever been interested in. But he was pretty sure the only reason he kept coming back was her impish little tendency to pretend he didn’t exist until he put himself directly in her way and forced her to acknowledge him.
Passing the Holly Jolly Chocolatier, Grant glanced at the artistic displays of chocolates in the windows. He was three steps past when his feet halted and spun him around almost before he understood why. But something he’d heard in the hardware store earlier this week triggered in his mind, and Grant
backtracked, turning into the store.
He only had the door open three inches when the warm, chocolate-scented air reached out and grabbed hold, dragging him the rest of the way in. He was having a Willie Wonka & the Chocolate Factory flashback when he closed the door behind him.
“Well, look who’s here.” Jemma came out of the back with her dark hair tied up in a ponytail, her bright blue eyes sparkling, and her white apron smeared with chocolate. “Heard you were back in town. How’s the big shot?”
He grinned. “Hey, Jemma. Man, you still look sixteen.”
“Oh, go on.”
“No, really. You’re throwing me back to high school, only in a much better way than the first time around.”
She laughed. “You’ve come a long way since high school. Got a lot to be proud of. Dwayne says you’re pitching in to help out the hockey team.”
“Word still travels fast around here.”
“Like lightning.”
Grant chuckled, hoping word of his identity had finally reached Faith. “Happy to do it.”
“What can I get you? I have a fresh batch of that marzipan your mama loves. Makes a great stocking stuffer.”
“Sure, I’ll take some. Can never hurt to please my mom, right? But I’m here because I understand Faith has an addiction to your chocolate.”
“Faith.” Jemma lifted her brows and tried way too hard to look innocent. “Oh? Did she say what, exactly, she was addicted to?”
“No. I overheard her talking about it to a friend at the store. She’s given me a lot of help this week while I’ve been working on my parents’ house, and I was thinking I’d bring her a little thank-you. Something she likes.”
Jemma pursed her lips, scrunching them sideways, her gaze cast down.
He knew that look: the naughty, guilty one.
“I’m also trying to soften her up so she’ll let me take her out,” Grant added hopefully. “Some days, I swear I’m invisible.”
Jemma’s smooth brow pulled into a deep vee. “That’s not like Faith. You may not think she’s paying attention, but she knows everything that’s happening around her. Everything that’s happening in the store. When you think ‘mind like a steel trap,’ you think Faith.”
