She shook her head again. “You have no idea the quality of items you have here,” she said. “This junk is worth thousands of dollars. It has lots of value. Even in the few larger pieces you have on the lawn, there’s enough to buy a used car. In this neighborhood you’re going to draw in a high-dollar clientele, and you need to take advantage of that. I don’t live around here, but a neighborhood like this one is where antiques dealers go first. Most people have no idea what their stuff is worth.”
He frowned. “You seem to know a lot about this.”
“Everybody has their thing, mine is antiques. I love it all. It’s kind of a hobby.” A hobby she’d like to turn into a business someday.
“I have an idea,” he said. “If you’ll help me out, I’ll fix your truck for free.” He smiled, and she was glad she could hold on to the truck for support. The man was sexy from his blond hair to his superbly formed calf muscles and all points in between.
“I’m in over my head,” he continued. “It’s only nine a.m. If you’ll stay until around three or so, I’ll make sure your truck is ready by the time you want to go. And I’ll pay for all the parts, and, as I said, labor is free.”
Free parts. Hmm.
She asked, “And all I have to do is make sure all these sharks don’t rob you?”
He smiled again, and her breath stuck in her lungs. “It’s a fair trade. You just made me four hundred and eighty bucks more than I thought I would. The rest is gravy.”
Well, there was nowhere else she needed to be at the moment, not that she could go anywhere without Old Joe. It was win-win.
Sticking out her hand, she shook his. “Deal.” She tried to ignore the tingles that his warm fingers sent up her arm.
“I’m Matt, by the way.”
“Chelly,” she said. Then she realized she was still holding on to his hand. “Okay. I better get to work.”
* * *
LIEUTENANT COLONEL MATT RYAN wiped his hands on the rag and then shut the hood of the old Ford F-150. After a quick run to the auto parts store, he had the vehicle going pretty good. He’d changed out the alternator and the oil, and bought her a new battery.
As he’d been working, he glanced over to find Chelly smiling and chatting with customers. Unlike him, she seemed to have an easy way with people. Her strawberry-blond hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and that blue blouse and denim shorts—man, she was about as pretty as they came. And she was smart about that junk. About five minutes after she’d started helping him out, she’d grabbed her phone from her truck. “I’m putting the details of your sale on one of the loops I’m on for antiques freaks.” She took a few pictures and not long after that he had three times as many people on the property. It had been a steady stream ever since.
At lunch he’d stopped long enough to make sandwiches and tea for himself and Chelly. When he’d taken the lunch to her, she’d handed him a wad of cash. “I lost count, but you’re close to three thousand. It’s not safe to keep it out here. You should put it in the house somewhere.” She frowned. “I mean, it seems like a lot of money, but you never know who might show up, especially in a neighborhood like this, where people know there’s going to be good stuff.”
Three thousand dollars before noon? It was insane. He’d thought he might get a couple hundred, maybe. The only reason he’d called it an estate sale was because the neighborhood association wouldn’t allow him to refer to it as a garage sale. Chelly obviously knew what she was doing.
Occasionally, she’d asked him to carry some of the heavier items to people’s vehicles.
He kept working on the truck and was surprised when he eventually looked up to find that there was hardly anything left on the lawn. She’d sold almost all of it.
He was a pretty self-sufficient guy. Rarely asked for help. But he’d needed it today. She was a wonder.
And he was most definitely a sucker for a beautiful woman. When he’d seen that tear fall onto Chelly’s cheek earlier, he realized he’d do just about anything for her. He’d wondered who or what had made her cry. Wasn’t his business. He had noticed the trash bags in the truck cab, and a couple of lamps and a table. She was either on her way out or on her way into town.
“You doing okay?” she asked.
He turned to find her approaching him with the cash box.
“You’re all fixed up,” he said, stuffing the dirty rag into the back pocket of his khakis.
“Really?” She gave him a sweet smile, and his lower region took notice.
“Yep.”
She handed over the cash box. “You had a good haul today. There’s at least thirty-five hundred in there, probably a little more.”
What? He had no idea his parents’ junk was worth that much. He opened up the cash box and took the money out. She deserved this. He already had the money she’d given to him earlier, and it was a lot more than he’d expected. “Here,” he said, holding out the cash to her.
She waved him away. “What are you doing?”
“You deserve at least half,” he said.
She stepped back. “No, we had a deal. You fix my truck, I sell your stuff.”
“But you sold it for so much. You should get part of it. I don’t feel right keeping all of this when you did the work. I had no idea what any of this stuff was.”
She crossed her arms, still refusing to take the money. Odd, since he had a feeling she could use it. “Can I ask you something?” she said.
He nodded.
“Is this your house?” She pointed behind her.
“Yes.”
“Are you getting divorced or something? Trying to get even with your ex by getting rid of all of her stuff for a fraction of what it’s worth? I mean, I’m not judging, but I’ve been curious all day. You and what you’re selling just don’t seem to fit.”
She had that last part right. “The furniture belonged to my parents who died last year in a car crash. I inherited the house and everything in it.” Truth, he hadn’t touched any of his parents’ belongings in the house or the garage. What was sold today had been in a storage facility. His mom loved to collect furnishings. The items in storage he hadn’t recognized, so it was easy to let go of them. But the rest, even though he needed to sell up, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it, yet.
The loss tugged at his gut as it always did. After eight years in the Marines, he’d experienced a lot of loss. So many of his friends were gone, but his parents had always been his foundation. The tie that had kept him grounded. He could always go home.
And then they were killed. Gone in one night. And his world had come untethered.
“Oh.” She put a hand on his arm and her warmth seeped into him. “I’m sorry. Figures I’d hit on a sore spot. My mouth always gets me into trouble.”
“You didn’t know. And it was a while ago. I’m only now starting to deal with all of this. Haven’t been able to. I’m a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps.”
“I don’t blame you. And they had excellent taste, your parents. I apologize for prying.”
“It’s okay. Most of it was my mom’s.” It wasn’t okay, actually, but he was a Marine, and he was pretty good at moving forward.
“So, thanks again for helping me with my truck. The few things that are left I’ve put in boxes for you. They’re in the corner of the garage. All you have to do is fold up the tables. Do you have my keys? I should probably get going.”
She was leaving. That bummed him out.
“Are you sure you won’t take the cash?”
“Nope. I’m good, but thanks. This was fun for me.”
“Your idea of fun and mine are completely different,” he said.
They shared a look and he realized how his words could be misconstrued.
“Keys are in the ignition. Be safe.” He felt like he wanted t
o hug her, but she was a stranger. That would be weird. Even weirder was the fact that he wasn’t the hugging type.
While he knew a lot about sadness, Chelly seemed to embody it. Even when she smiled it didn’t quite reach her eyes. A woman so beautiful shouldn’t have those kinds of worries. No person should have the burden she seemed to be carrying.
He waved goodbye and then headed over to collapse the tables. He was about to shut the garage door when he noticed she was still sitting in her truck.
Was she having car trouble again? He’d checked everything out, and had even driven the truck around the block to make sure it was okay. As he drew closer, he saw that she was staring at her phone as if it were an alien. Her teeth worried her bottom lip.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he walked up to the driver’s side.
She jumped.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?”
She shook her head. “I, uh. My friend texted me. She got married...in Vegas.” She sounded desolate.
“And that’s bad?”
“No. I’m happy for her.” She worried that bottom lip again. He had an urge to run his thumb across it.
What is wrong with me? The woman was having a difficult day. The last thing she needed was being ogled by him. “I’m not the best judge of emotions, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a happy face.” He pointed to her.
That made her smile, slightly. “Really, I am happy for her. She’s loved this guy for a long time. He surprised her with a trip to Vegas last night. They were married at a drive-through chapel.”
“That might not be the most romantic place to get married, but if you’re happy for her, what’s the problem?”
She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. He had an urge to brush her hair from her cheek and tell her everything was going to be okay, even though he had no idea what was going on.
“I drove here from Nashville to be her roommate. I was supposed to move in today.”
Realization dawned.
The roommate had filled the position with a new husband.
“So you’re—”
“Homeless.”
Copyright © 2016 by Candace Havens
ISBN-13: 9781488000249
Cowboy After Dark
Copyright © 2016 by Vicki Lewis Thompson
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