At one point, Brock looked up to see his two neighbors standing in the street, watching the progress. He waved at them and the short plump one waved a handkerchief his direction.
“New girlfriend?” Mike teased as he ripped up shingles next to him.
“Actually, I’ve got two.” Brock grinned and inclined his head their direction. “They watch my every move, talk about me to their friends, and ply me with baked goods.”
“Sounds miserable.” Mike shook his head. “I take it you meet their approval?”
“Just barely.” Brock tossed a handful of shingles over the side of the roof into the dumpster below. “After a thorough interrogation, they decided I was not going to be dealing drugs, having wild parties, or dragging miscreants into their quiet little neighborhood.”
Mike laughed. “What do you suppose they make of all this noise and disturbance?”
“I told them I was remodeling the house and it was going to be loud and noisy until I was finished. They said they’d somehow suffer through it with the promise of a restored house and a quiet neighborhood at the end of the ordeal.”
“It’s probably more excitement than they’ve had for a long time.”
Brock nodded in agreement.
“Are you really going to keep this house or fix it up to sell?” Mike wiped sweat from his brow. Although it was March and cool, ripping shingles off a roof was a lot of hard work.
“I plan to keep it. I need to live here in Silverton and I like the peacefulness of this place. It doesn’t hurt that there’s a creek in the backyard or that the house is at the end of a dead-end street.”
“If you like that kind of thing, I guess it would be okay.” Mike preferred the noise and bustle of the city. “Where’s your uncle? I thought he’d be here in the middle of things.”
“He took Aunt Liz on a cruise. They’ll be gone for almost two weeks.”
“Seriously? I’m having trouble picturing that one.” Mike had spent enough time with Brock and his uncle Andy to know the older man wouldn’t easily agree to being stuck on a cruise ship.
As though he sensed his friend’s thoughts, Brock chuckled. “He’s the one who asked her if she’d like to go. I think retirement has really agreed with him.”
Mike and Brock continued talking while they removed shingles and soon the roof was bare. After fixing the few weak spots, they got to work putting new shingles down.
At noon, a car from the deli arrived with Brock’s order of thick sandwiches, bags of chips and big chocolate chip cookies.
The crew took an hour break, joking and laughing while they let their lunch settle before climbing back on the roof to finish the job.
When they finished later that afternoon, Brock had a new roof on the house and was pleased with how it appeared. The cedar shakes looked good and that one improvement made the house seem more like a home.
After cleaning up from the day’s work, Brock drove through the peaceful town of Silverton. He slowed when he went past Letty Smith’s store. She stood outside locking the door and waved as he drove by.
Although he’d been working on the store project for a couple of weeks, the only time he’d seen Brenna was at the coffee shop. The Friday they planned to go out on a date, she got stuck at work on a project and had to cancel. The following weekend, his Mom had flown in unexpectedly and demanded to be entertained for several days. Now, another week had passed with no date. He promised himself to ask her Monday when he stopped for coffee. The longer he waited to take her out, the more his desire to do so increased.
“Morning, coffee girl,” Brock said as he held out a Chai latte to Brenna when she walked inside the coffee shop.
“Hi.” Surprise filled her face. He could see the warmth of her smile reflected in her wide blue eyes.
“Would you put me out of my misery and please, please go out with me this Friday?” Brock asked, holding open the coffee shop door.
Brenna walked to her car and leaned against the door grateful it wasn’t raining, even if the temperature remained cool.
Brock took a swig of his coffee and anxiously waited for her to say something.
“If it would help ease your misery, I’d be happy to help,” Brenna said, hoping he would never find out exactly how many hours she’d obsessed about what to wear, how to fix her hair, what clever and witty things she would say when they eventually did go out. She was livid the Friday she had to cancel their date due to Wesley having a full-blown tantrum late that afternoon and insisting she stay late to work on a project that wasn’t due for another two weeks. Disappointment dogged her the past two weekends when Brock had other commitments pop up. She’d begun to think he’d never ask her out again.
“I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way to suffer on my behalf,” Brock said in a teasing tone as they stared at each other, getting lost in the possibilities of what could be. He took her hand in his and rubbed his work-roughened thumb over the backs of her fingers. As the blue in her eyes sparked with heat, he cleared his throat. “Do you want to meet in Silverton or somewhere else? I’d be happy to pick you up at your house.”
Brock wanted to spend as much time with her as possible and he definitely wanted to be able to drive her home.
“At my house would be just fine.” Brenna gave him the address along with a smile that transformed her face from cute to lovely. “I’m usually home about six, so why don’t you come by at six-thirty?”
Brock gazed at her a moment, entranced by the sight of her, then nodded his head. Finally, he squeezed her hand and opened her car door so she could climb in. When he shut the door, she rolled down the window and he leaned over to look her in the eye. “I’ll pick you up Friday at your house. Have a great day, coffee girl.”
“I will, Brock,” Brenna whispered, not trusting herself to speak louder. “Thanks for the coffee, construction man.”
Brock laughed and waved as he walked to his pickup. He couldn’t wait for his date with the cute little coffee girl!
Chapter Six
Brenna felt like a kid skipping class when she left work early Friday and raced home. It had been a long and tiring day, made more so by many annoying run-ins with Wesley. The man was positively evil and Brenna wasn’t convinced his brain fired on all cylinders. With his bullying tendencies, she found him to be utterly despicable.
Determined to enjoy her evening, Brenna shook off all thoughts of the office as she hurried up to her room. She riffled through her closet for a good ten minutes, trying to decide what to wear. Brock hadn’t shared any hint about where they were going when she saw him at the coffee shop that morning. However, he did offer her a charming smile and told her how much he looked forward to seeing her that evening.
Mulling over her clothing options as she took a shower, Brenna put on makeup and decided to let her curls hang down instead of pulling them into a clip or a bun. She returned to her closet and selected a knee-length floral skirt with a soft cashmere sweater. Not too dressy, but dressy enough she wouldn’t be embarrassed if they went somewhere nice.
Quickly slipping on a pair of heels, she took a few deep breaths before looking at her watch and deciding she better get a move on or Brock would be left alone with her parents. Even at the ripe old age of thirty, her dad still acted like she was sixteen sometimes.
She shoved her phone, wallet, and a tube of sheer lip-gloss into a handbag then hurried down the stairs, only to retrace her steps to grab a cheery spring trench coat out of her closet that coordinated with the colors in her skirt.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered to herself, rushing down the stairs as the doorbell rang.
“I’ve got it!” she called toward the living room, where the television loudly blared with the evening news.
After opening the door, it took her a moment to gather her senses enough to speak.
Brock wore black slacks with a light blue shirt and a charcoal gray v-neck sweater that hugged every impressive muscle of his arms and chest. Glad she’d opted for dresse
d up rather than casual, Brenna stepped back and motioned with her hand for Brock to step inside.
“Hi,” Brock said, not sure he could trust himself to form complete sentences as he looked over Brenna from the top of her curly golden head to the tips of her high-heeled shoes. She looked lovely and very feminine.
His fingers itched to bury themselves in the beautiful ringlets of her hair that bounced with every move she made and hung halfway to her waist. The pretty pink shade of her sweater matched her rosy lips. He longed to run his hands along her sleeve to see if the sweater felt as soft as it looked, but the temptation to kiss her cotton-candy lips nearly overwhelmed him.
Brenna leaned closer to him and he felt the warmth of her breath caress his neck while her fresh scent teased his nose. He looked down at her and grinned.
“You’ve already met half of the dynamic duo, so be warned, my dad won’t let you leave without some form of cross-examination,” Brenna whispered with a conspiratorial wink.
“I’ll manage.” Brock kept his voice low as Brenna took his hand and led him into the living room of her parents’ home. The house owned a neat and pleasant appearance from the street but the inside was spectacular. It was exactly what he’d expect from a talented interior designer like Letty Smith.
“Dad, I want you to meet Brock McCrae. He’s doing the remodel on the store,” Brenna said, dropping her hand from Brock’s as her father set down his paper and turned his attention to his daughter’s date.
“Brock, nice to meet you.” Brandon stood to his full height, which was about the same as Brock’s. “Brandon Smith.”
“A pleasure to meet you, sir.” Brock took Brenna’s father’s hand in a firm handshake.
“My wife tells me you’re doing a fantastic job with the remodel and should be done right on schedule.”
“Yes, sir. It’s a great project and I, for one, have a vested interest in getting the job done sooner rather than later,” Brock said, surprising both Brenna and Brandon.
“Oh, you do? What might that be?” Brandon took a step closer to Brenna, feeling his over-protective father mode kick into high gear.
“The sooner Brenna’s bistro is finished, the sooner I can stop there for breakfast.” Brock’s engaging smile made Brenna’s heart flutter while melting a bit of her father’s reserve.
“Can’t argue with you there.” Brandon placed a hand on Brenna’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “She is pretty handy in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Brenna stepped away from her father and recaptured Brock’s hand, pulling him toward the door. “You and Mom have a nice evening.”
“We will, honey. Don’t stay out too late,” Brandon cautioned, then clamped his lips shut before he threw out something about her curfew, being careful, or driving safely. Despite his wishes otherwise, both his girls were grown women long past the age of him telling them what to do.
Brock helped Brenna with her coat then waved at Brandon as he watched them from the doorway to the living room. “Goodnight, sir. It was nice to meet you.”
“Have fun, kids.” Brandon turned back to his newspaper and comfy chair.
Brenna walked with Brock at her side down the front walk. She was impressed when he opened his pickup door for her and assisted her inside.
She buckled her seatbelt and faced him with a big flirty grin that made her blue eyes twinkle. “That went pretty well. I think Dad liked you.”
“You’re joking, right?” Brock shot her a wary glance. “Your dad looked like he wanted to eat me for dinner.”
“Nope. He liked you. Otherwise, we’d still be standing back there while he asked you eighty-six questions about yourself that you really don’t want to answer.”
“Only eighty-six?” Brock teased as he pulled away from the curb and drove down the street.
“Maybe even ninety.”
“I’m glad he liked me, then.” Brock reached across the seat and squeezed Brenna’s hand. He left his hand resting on hers as they drove through town. “Speaking of like, what do you think of German food for dinner?”
Brenna knew that Brock planned to take her to Mt. Angel for a meal at a marvelous restaurant that served German food. She loved to eat there, but didn’t often make the short trek off the beaten path to go.
“If you’re talking about the pub in Mt. Angel, absolutely. I love it.”
Brock tipped his head and grinned. “You, Miss Brenna Smith, are a mind reader. Uncle Andy used to take me there sometimes. I seem to have developed a thing for spaetzle and sausage at a young age,” Brock said with an easy smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Spaetzle and sausage, huh? My obsession goes more toward the desserts.” Brenna licked her lips, thinking of all the wonderful, tempting selections available at the restaurant.
His gaze lingered on her mouth for so long, he almost missed a stop sign. “So I won’t have to twist your arm or expound on the virtues of German cuisine to get you to go?”
“Not unless you really want to.” Brenna wasn’t bothered in the least by the thought of Brock getting close enough to twist her arm.
“Good.” Brock turned his attention back to the traffic and off his lovely passenger. She smelled so luscious, he wasn’t sure that he’d ever again be able to stand in the sunshine on a spring day and not think of her.
Not far from the restaurant, Brock found a space and parked the truck. He ran around his pickup to open the door for Brenna and gave her his hand as she slid off the seat.
She seemed surprised by his courteous manners, but he was determined to make her feel special.
An intense attraction flowed over him as she placed her hand in his. Something powerful — electrical — traveled up his arm and worked its way right into his heart. If he didn’t keep his guard up, it would be unbelievably easy to fall for the adorable coffee girl.
“Shall we?” he asked, not letting go of her hand as they walked inside the restaurant. He gave his name to the hostess who escorted them to a private table.
“You must have been sure I’d like German food.” Brenna quirked an expressive eyebrow as she sat down at the table.
“I was hoping,” Brock said, taking his seat after Brenna sat in her chair. “If you’d said no, my backup plan was to feed you Italian.”
“Good backup plan. I might as well tell you, I’m not a picky eater.” Brenna smiled at the waiter as he left them menus and glasses of ice water. “I like German, Italian, Mexican, Chinese, Mongolian, Japanese, Thai, and good ol’ American food, especially barbecue.”
“You are making this way too easy for me,” Brock said, studying his menu. “I can basically take you anywhere for dinner and you’ll be happy.”
“Basically. As long as the food is good.” Brenna glanced at the menu and quickly decided what to order. “But don’t go trying to convince me grease-soaked fast-food is good.”
Brock laughed. “Never. I wouldn’t think of it.”
After placing their orders, they discussed the progress Brock and his crew made at the store, the types of things Brenna planned to have on her menu, and the work Brock completed at his house.
When the waiter brought their orders, Brenna shared a few bites of her tender pork cutlet with Brock while he offered her a sample of his sausage.
“That’s really good,” Brenna said, delighted by the explosions of flavors the sausage created on her tongue. “It’s got a great smoky aftertaste.”
“The before and during taste is pretty good, too.” Brock took another bite while mischief danced in his hazel eyes. “I’ve got a few other things I’d like to explore the before and after taste of.”
“You do?” Brenna kept her focus on her plate instead of the very attractive man sitting across from her. If she looked at him too long, she was afraid she might forget everything else, like how to hold a fork or sit upright in chair.
“I do. Maybe you can help me with that later.” Brock’s face was impassive but the tone of his voice was husky and suggesti
ve.
“Sure.” Brenna agreed without any idea what Brock had in mind. She didn’t give it a thought as she enjoyed her meal and the good company.
Brock savored both his good meal and the nearness of the woman sitting at his table. Brenna was so sweet and special. Even though she’d recently turned thirty, an air of innocence lingered around her. He really liked that about her.
Most of the females he’d dated in the last few years had developed a hard edge and many of them appeared calculating and manipulative instead of genuine and fun.
Brenna was a breath of fresh air. And that’s what she smelled like to him. Fresh air, spring, and sunshine.
There in the restaurant, amid the smell of apples and roasting meat, with oompah music playing in the background while their waiter ran around in lederhosen, Brock realized he was falling hard for the lovely little coffee girl.
The reality of that revelation washed over him.
He’d been in serious “like” with women before, and even fancied himself in love on a few occasions. Crushes and longings were familiar feelings, but the tender, tingly feeling that started in his chest and spiraled out to his extremities every time he thought about Brenna was completely new and foreign to him.
It had to be love.
That certainly wasn’t something he was expecting or anticipating.
When he turned his gaze her direction, she glanced up at him with a sweet smile that rendered him incapable of doing anything except falling into the welcoming depths of her warm blue eyes.
“What?” Brenna finally asked, self-consciously looking down at her sweater. It took all of her concentration to eat her meal without any disasters since Brock’s proximity completely rattled her senses. “Did I spill something?”
“No, Brenna,” Brock said quietly, his voice a deep rumble, mellowed by the sudden awareness of his feelings. “You’re just so wonderfully you.”
The Coffee Girl Page 6
