The Way You Love Me

by Unknown

  Five-three, with her brother’s oversized white shirt over a white tank top and a pair of slim-fitting jeans, she looked adorable with her hair swept back from her face in a ponytail under an Atlanta Braves baseball cap. The clerk outweighed her by ninety pounds and had tattoos running from his wrists to beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt.

  Folding his arms, crossing his legs, Shane leaned back against the shopping cart and waited for the man trying to get her to leave to get it through his thick head that for others, Paige was as bullheaded as they came.

  “Lady, that is your order,” he said for the third time in as many minutes.

  “No, it isn’t. It’s the wrong color, and the amount is incorrect as well. There should be a five-gallon can of pale blue, five gallons of yellow, and ten of white.” Paige patiently handed him the receipt. The annoyed young man behind the counter was in his midtwenties and wore a paint-splattered apron and black T-shirt. He barely looked at it before handing it back. “That’s the name on the can.”

  “Then someone has made a mistake.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. You’ll have to talk to the manager.” He looked behind her pointedly and beckoned to the next person in line.

  Paige didn’t budge. “Then please call him.”

  “I will if you’ll step—” “I’m not moving until you call a manager,” she said, folding her arms.

  “Lady, there are—”

  “Call the manager,” Shane said, not moving from the cart, his voice deadly quiet.

  The young man jerked his head up and around. His eyes widened. He took a step back.

  “Shane, I can handle this,” Paige said, without turning around. She was having enough trouble dealing with the heat of his hard body burning into hers. Perhaps she should have left him at her mother’s house. Or perhaps she should ask him to step back. Both sensible ideas, but she did neither. Her reaction annoyed her, yet somehow it made her feel more alive than she’d ever thought possible.

  “Sure you can,” Shane said easily. “I’m just the muscle to carry the paint. All twenty gallons of it.”

  The man behind the counter threw a frantic look at the one-gallon can of paint on the counter in front of Paige and grabbed the phone. “Manager to the paint department. Stat.”

  As soon as he hung up, Paige told him sweetly, “You might want to tell those behind me that you’re sorry for the delay, but you’ll be with them as soon as you’ve corrected my order.”

  He eyed her, and then Shane, before saying to the people behind her, “Be with you in a minute.”

  Up strode a tall man with bags under his brown eyes, wearing a frown and a red plaid shirt. His stomach pushed out the orange apron with the store’s logo. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked the young man behind the counter. The clerk in turn pointed to Paige, but she had already stepped up to the man.

  “Thank you for coming so promptly.” Paige stuck out her hand. “Paige Albright, and you are—?”

  The man blinked, then hurriedly offered his callused hand. “Dennis Yearly, the paint department manager.”

  The man continued to stare down at her while holding her hand. Paige simply smiled. For some odd reason people often did that when they first met her. She’d come to the conclusion it was her gray eyes staring out of a light brown face. “Mr. Yearly, as you can see by this receipt, my paint order is incorrect.” She handed him the receipt. “It’s imperative that it be corrected. The painting has to be completed today for move-in tomorrow.”

  He studied the receipt, then turned to the young man. “Where’s the paint?”

  He dutifully pointed a paint-stained finger to the one gallon of paint. “Her name is on it.”

  “Miss, if your name is on the paint, there is—”

  “Mr. Yearly,” she said, cutting him off. “From the receipt you can see that this is not what was ordered or paid for. It is certainly not the type of service I expected. Can you correct the problem or do we need to talk to the store manager and, if he can’t solve it within the next five minutes, the district manager?”

  Annoyance swept across his face. “I’m doing—”

  Paige cut him off. “Let’s cut to the chase and call the store manager.” She took out her cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” the department manager asked, frowning down at her.

  “Taking a picture of the paint you’re trying to shove off on me. Then I’m taking a picture of you, the man behind the counter, and the clock.” She held up the camera phone with his picture frozen for him to see. “In the meantime please call the store manager. I don’t want to miss getting him and his photo in on this dispute, which a seven-year-old could clear up.”

  The department manager reached toward the camera phone. Shane stepped to her side and shook his head. The man’s hand clenched, his mouth narrowing into a thin line.

  “Did I miss you calling the store manager?” Paige asked sweetly and took the photo of the clock on the wall behind her. “Time is wasting.”

  “And you have customers waiting,” Shane reminded him.

  The manager blew out a frustrated breath, then shot another look at Shane.

  Paige didn’t want to look over her shoulder at Shane, but every time either of the men looked in his direction, they became nervous. Surely they’d seen well-built men before.

  “Do we need to call him for you?” Shane asked, his voice flat.

  The department manager gulped. Paige couldn’t help but look this time. Shane smiled at her. Her stomach shimmied. She quickly turned back around.

  “No need to do that,” the department manager said jovially. “You have your receipt. We pride ourselves on happy customers.” He turned to the young man and handed him the receipt. “Take care of this.”

  The young man sent them a killer look, but he took the receipt.

  Paige turned the cell phone to the manager so he could see his frozen image, pressed DELETE, and then put the cell phone back in her purse. “Thank you, Mr. Yearly. While he’s getting our correct order, I need to pick up a few more things. Would you have time to help me with this list?” She pulled a sheet of paper from her purse. “The paint is latex and oil-based. I believe we need different brush types for each kind of paint.”

  Mr. Yearly reached under his apron and tried to pull his pants back over his stomach. “You’re right, miss, and, like I said, we pride ourselves on customer service.” He firmly turned to the man behind the counter. “I expect her order to be ready when we get back.” Then to the people in line. “Sorry for the wait, folks. When it’s your turn, we’ll give you the same personal service.”

  “I can attest to that,” Paige said, smiling at the long line of disgruntled customers behind her. Her smile didn’t waver when only one or two smiled back.

  The manager threw back his shoulders. “This way to the paintbrushes.”

  Shaking his head, Shane followed. She could be tough if need be. Now, if she could just cop that attitude with Russell.

  Chapter 5

  The apartment complex was located in a quiet, well-kept residential neighborhood in the midst of an older section of the city. Paige drove through the open black iron gates that shut at midnight and opened at 5:00 am, past the one-story office building, and pulled up at the second unit. “This is it.”

  Shane looked at the elderly couples walking down the sidewalk. There had been another group of older people congregated in front of the rental office. He saw the well-kept yard, the ring of marigolds and caladiums around every tree, the clean sidewalks and streets of the complex. “I can see why you’d pick the place, but I can’t imagine them going along with it.”

  “They weren’t too pleased until I had a friend pull a police report on the other apartment they wanted. The burglary rate was incredible, whereas this apartment complex has only had one burglary in the past six months,” Paige told him.

  “I guess thieves figure senior residents here weren’t worth the effort,” Shane said. “They don’t understand that o
lder people can pinch pennies better than anyone.”

  “Did your grandparents?” she asked, wanting to know more about him.

  “Not that I ever knew.” Shane reached for his door handle.

  Reluctantly, Paige did the same, then she smiled. “They must have been watching for us.”

  Shane saw a handsome young man in paint-splattered jeans and a white T-shirt showcasing impressive shoulders racing toward him. The teenager stopped and beckoned a pretty young, full-figured woman in an oversized shirt and pants walking at a slow pace behind him to hurry. Smiling, she did as he bade. They both reached the car at the same time.

  “Hi, Paige, you had Gayle worried,” the young man said, still grinning as he stopped by the driver’s side of the car.

  The teenage girl slanted a look at Shane and momentarily tucked her head. “I was not. I knew if you said you’d be here, you would.”

  The boy threw his arms playfully around his sister’s shoulders. “Just teasing.” He gave Shane the once-over. “I hope you’re here to help.”

  “I am.” Shane liked the brash young man. He didn’t take him at face value, and the sizing-up probably meant he had tangled with the police. So had Shane at one time.

  Getting out of the car, Paige popped the trunk. “Shane Elliott is a houseguest. This is Gayle and Noah Mathis.”

  The young man shook his hand; his sister nodded and went to the trunk where Paige waited. “Noah and I can handle the paint if you ladies will get the rest of the things Paige bought.”

  Paige threw Shane a dismissive look. “Mr. Yearly said I could bring back anything we didn’t use as long as we had the receipt.”

  “Which will be most of the things.” Shane picked up two of the five-gallon cans.

  “Is Russell coming later?” Noah asked, picking up the other cans.

  “No, he had unexpected business, but he sent both of you a gift card to the home improvement store in case you needed something else,” Paige said, her arms tightening around the bulging paper bag she held.

  “You can always depend on Russell,” Noah dead-panned.

  Paige glanced up at him sharply.

  “How does it feel to be in your own place?” Shane asked from beside Gayle.

  Gayle looked startled that he had spoken to her. “Exciting.” She clutched another paper bag and a long-handled roller. “A little scary.”

  “I can imagine,” Shane said as they started up the stairs to the second floor. “I went straight into the army out of high school. I didn’t know what to expect.”

  “Paige made sure we did,” she said softly. “We had to search for the apartment, compare prices, look for furniture, grocery shop.”

  Leading the way, Noah opened the door to the apartment. “She even had us cutting out coupons for anything from cleaners to groceries to restaurants.” He shuddered. Gayle laughed, and he threw a look of affection back over his shoulder.

  Whatever the problems that had led them to this point in life, they had each other, they had Paige. That was a better start than most had. It certainly topped his experience. He had a biological family whom he detested as much as they detested him.

  Inside the apartment the walls were freshly plastered. There was painter’s tape around the baseboards and where the thin wooden cabinets in the kitchen connected to the walls. The carpet was dark and threadbare in places. It was a palace compared with where Shane had come from.

  “Not much to look at,” Noah said with a shrug.

  “Now,” Paige said firmly. “You and Gayle will change that. The important thing is that it’s on the bus line for your jobs and college in the fall, and near a grocery store.”

  “Where you can use those coupons,” Shane said, earning a shy smile from Gayle. “You guys have done a good job getting things ready.”

  “Paige’s doing again,” Gayle said. “We went online and talked to a decorator before we started. I’ll miss the computer at the home.”

  “We might be able to squeeze it into the budget,” Noah said. “We’ll be able to get one with the new credit card that companies are so anxious to send to people.” He looked at Paige. “That we will pay off before the first bill.”

  “Then why not wait until you have the money?” she questioned. “There’s a reason for the credit card mailing out those applications. If something happens and you can’t make the payment, the twenty-eight percent interest is going to hit you hard. It’ll dump money into their account and take it out of yours.”

  Noah shook his head. “Somehow I knew you’d say that.”

  Shane was curious. “Then why mention it?”

  “Because she has our best interests at heart, because she tells me straight, not what I want to hear.” Noah blew out a breath and looked at his sister. “I guess we wait.”

  “We wait,” she repeated.

  “Where do we start?” Shane asked, easily seeing why Paige wanted to help them. Unlike his parents and brother, Noah and Gayle wanted to help themselves, not sit on their collective butts and wait for a handout, or scam people.

  “Gayle’s room. She deserves to be the first,” Noah said, his face serious for the first time.

  “I—”

  “Don’t argue with your big brother.” Noah picked up the five-gallon can of pale yellow paint.

  “Gayle, speaking from experience, I’d say save your breath.” Paige placed her cap on the passway between the kitchen and the living area, then pulled two large blue bandannas from her pocket. Giving one to Gayle, she tied the other over her head. “Zach never let me win an argument. Now let’s get this show on the road.”

  Working together they painted the two bedrooms and then the living area. Shane and Noah were finishing up the kitchen while Paige and Gayle did the single bathroom.

  “Thank you for helping us,” Noah said, carefully going around the edge of the cabinets.

  “You’re helping yourself.” Shane ran the roller brush up and down the wall, giving it its second coat of glistening white paint where the refrigerator would eventually go.

  Noah stopped painting and turned. “You’re nothing like him. Maybe I won’t have to worry about Paige anymore.”

  Shane didn’t need two guesses as to who the young man was talking about. He kept working. “Paige can take care of herself. Besides, she wouldn’t like us discussing her.”

  “I guess not. When I first met her, I thought she was one of those do-gooders who volunteered to make themselves feel and look good.”

  “What changed your mind?” Shane asked, aware that they were doing just what he said they shouldn’t do, discussing Paige.

  “No matter how much I messed up, getting into trouble at school, at the foster home, losing a good job—if I bothered to get one—because of my mouth, she never stopped trying to get through to me. She kept telling me that I had the brains to make something of myself.” Noah shook his dark head.

  “I was headed to hell or jail—maybe they’re one and the same—as fast as I could go until she made me realize that if I didn’t straighten up, there would be no one to take care of my sister. She never missed a day of school, was never in the principal’s office, and she finished third in our class. My sister is going places.”

  “You both are,” Shane reminded him.

  “Now. Six months ago it was a different story,” Noah admitted with a shake of his head. “It scares me sometimes to think of how close I came to being a statistic.”

  “But you made the decision to listen. Some people never learn.” Like his family. Shane dipped his roller into the paint tray.

  “That’s what Paige says. We’re twins. Our parents died when we were five. After my mother’s brother used up the insurance money, he didn’t have much use for us.” Noah shrugged. “Uncle said he couldn’t take care of us. Our family and the state might have left us to fend for ourselves, but Paige hasn’t. She’s one cool lady.”

  “Why, thank you,” Paige said from the doorway, then she bowed her head and laughed. “But don’
t think because you gave me a compliment that you can slack off.” She folded her arms and looked at Gayle. “Since we’re finished first, perhaps we should go eat by ourselves.”

  “I’m painting.” Noah quickly but carefully finished the second coat around the cabinet.

  Shane said without turning, “I guess you didn’t consider we had a larger area.”

  “We considered. That’s why we didn’t just leave,” Paige told him, a smile tugging the corners of the mouth that he had thought too much about. He’d never seen her this carefree. He hated to put a damper on things. But there was no way around it.

  “While we’re finishing up, Paige, why don’t you gather the drop cloths, extra brushes, sandpaper, and all the other things we didn’t use? We can return them after we eat.”

  Her smile slipped. She wrinkled her nose. “I was hoping you might have forgotten that.”

  “Not a chance.” He almost smiled. He could get used to that smile, to teasing her. Instead he placed his roller over the paint tray and opened the door to the cabinet. “With some varnish and some molding these would look a lot better.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. Perhaps some chair railing in the kitchen as well,” Gayle said, then bit her lip.

  “Why didn’t you say something before?” Noah asked.

  “It wasn’t in the budget,” Gayle said as if that explained everything.

  “It is now,” Paige told them. “When I take the unused merchandise back you’ll have a refund on your gift card to use for future purchases, and the gift cards Russell sent can be used to buy the molding. So, Gayle, if you have any other ideas, let’s have them while we have two men who are probably as good with a hammer as they are with a paintbrush.”

  “Well, there were one or two other things,” Gayle said, then smiled.

  Since all of them had paint on their clothes, they chose a small barbecue restaurant. Noah insisted he pay. Aware of a man’s pride, Shane let him. They selected seats in the back of the restaurant. Halfway finished with their meal, Paige nixed Gayle’s idea of forgetting the crown molding and inserts.