“You’ve gotta do something about this,” Maddie said, fingering the overlong hair.
Cam ignored her. “Not high on my list.”
I couldn’t help feeling sorry for Cameron. He’d come to Kings Grove when Maddie was first dating Connor, with his adorable wife in tow, and the love between those two had practically shone in the air around them. Unfortunately, his wife Jess was sick, and she’d passed away. That was why Cam had moved up here from Los Angeles, leaving the movie industry behind to work construction jobs with the Palmer brothers. He often stayed silent, his sad dark eyes full of a pain I could only begin to imagine. I knew it was wrong, but part of me wished for a man who’d mourn me as devotedly if I were to die as Cameron mourned his late wife, Jess. I doubted he’d ever look at another woman.
“What can I get you?” Maddie asked him, and I moved off to check on my other tables.
Maddie and Cam chatted over the counter while he ate a sandwich, and a little while later, my dad came through the door, dusty and dirty as always.
“Family day seems to be happening over at the counter,” Adele said, her surly mood returning.
“Hey pudding,” Dad said, grabbing a stool next to Cam. “Cameron, Maddie,” he said.
“How’s the rangering?” Cameron asked him.
Dad put his hat on the counter next to him and shook his head, not answering right away. Something inside me prickled with concern. “Not that good right now,” he said, and an all-out worry blossomed inside my chest.
“What’s going on?” I asked, dropping my order pad to the counter where it missed the edge and slid immediately to the floor. I leaned down to get it, banging my head on the way down, and replaced the pad in my apron pocket, rubbing my forehead. That was probably going to bruise.
Dad waited for me to finish injuring myself and then explained. “The fire over the back ridge is still growing. We’re getting a little worried about it since none of the predicted storms have materialized and crews are having a hard time getting a perimeter set up because the canyons back there are so steep. If the wind would stop, that’d be one thing, but between the Santa Anas and all the dry fuel on the ground…” he trailed off, shaking his head.
“How far away is it?” Cam asked.
“I don’t think we need to worry about it here quite yet,” Dad said.
“Yet?” Maddie’s voice had gone thin with worry.
“They’ll get it under control,” Dad said, but I could hear the uncertainty in his voice.
Adele cleared her throat, moving Maddie and I back out to the dining area, where Dean had begun servicing a few tables as the early dinner rush got underway. For a couple hours I was too busy to think about Sam’s offer or the fire threatening the backcountry, but as I wrapped up my shift, Maddie took my arm.
“Are you going to let him do it?” she asked.
“What? Who?”
“Sam. Are you going to let him help you get Chance’s attention?”
I shrugged. I hadn’t had time to decide. “I don’t know. No one knows Chance better than Sam, right?”
She nodded. “Still, don’t you wonder a little bit why he’d be willing?”
I did. Sam had never done anything but go out of his way to humiliate me. “Yeah, a little.”
“You don’t think maybe Sam has a little crush on you, do you?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve seen the way he watches you.”
“I’m just the local entertainment, Maddie. It’s been that way forever.” Sam wouldn’t know a crush if it smacked him in the face, and if he had one, it certainly wouldn’t be on me.
“He’s pretty hot, you know.” She looked thoughtful, her eyes darkening. “And I feel a little sorry for him, actually.”
I felt my eyes widen. “Who, Sam? Why in the world would you feel sorry for him?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head lightly. “I don’t know, in Chance’s shadow and everything. Can’t be easy.”
An exasperated sigh escaped my lips. I didn’t think Sam needed any sympathy. “I don’t think he cares.” As soon as I’d said it, my mind rolled back to the confrontation I’d witnessed in the office that morning, and to the resigned way Sam had talked about the divided responsibilities they each shouldered at work. Maybe he did care a little. But if he was willing to help me finally get his brother’s attention, I was going to let him.
There wasn’t a single part of me that felt sorry for Sam Palmer.
Even if I did kind of agree that he was a little bit hot.
Chapter 11
Miranda
When I arrived to Palmer Construction the following morning, I was wearing a pair of fitted black pants and a peplum blouse, and I’d left my hair down, even though it drove me nuts. I wasn’t used to the feel of it against the back of my neck, and I swear there’d been a point while I ate breakfast where I’d thought there was some kind of bug crawling on my arm, only to discover it was my own hair. I’d screamed and jumped out of my seat, smacking at my arm and flinging my cereal spoon across the table at Mom. Once I’d finished freaking out, my mother had suggested it might be a good plan to put my hair up while I ate to prevent myself making a mess at mealtime.
“That’s not necessary, Mom.” I stood by my statement, but my spilled cereal told a different story. Mom had sighed and gone to get a cloth to wipe up the spill.
Despite my unfamiliarity with my own hair, I believed I was looking halfway decent that morning, and hoped Chance might notice too. I didn’t know what Sam had planned for me work-wise—probably more stuff he’d already done himself so he could find places where I’d screwed up—but I’d spent some time researching the project the Palmers had just finished down in the valley. It was a strip mall renovation, and the new buildings had a really unique facade—not low and boxy like most strip malls, but each store had a little patio or garden in front, and the actual architecture varied dramatically from shop to shop, so the result was more like an old fashioned downtown sidewalk than a strip mall. Sam might have designed it, but Chance had made it happen—even though the locals had put up a stink about it being too “unusual” to fit in with their town. Chance had charmed them into submission—the man was a genius. The project had even won a couple awards. I knew all about it, and was ready to engage in pithy construction-based conversation.
“Morning, Miranda.” Sam stood in the middle of the front office, facing his brother’s door. He turned toward me as he greeted me, and the smile that crossed his face transformed him for a split second. I almost forgot how much he irritated me. His dark hair was tousled and he had a scruff of a beard, like he’d forgotten to shave for a couple days. His flannel shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and only half tucked into the khaki jeans he wore, and even though Sam Palmer always reverted in my mind to the guy I needed to be wary of and careful around, there was a weird uncomfortable moment that morning when the alertness I always felt around him morphed into nerves at being faced with such an attractive man. His shoulders were broad and his torso narrowed down into a perfect vee, and the way his pants hung on his hips and thighs made them look so strong and muscular.
Get a grip, I told myself. It’s Sam.
The thing was—even though I’d reminded myself it was Sam, I still found him handsome. I wondered for a second if maybe the way he’d defended my intelligence to Chance had somehow made up for some of his past indiscretions. Or if his offer to help me get his brother’s attention had made me subconsciously like him more. Maybe there was a strange Miranda-Sam power balance inside me somewhere, and his recent uncharacteristic behavior had shifted things slightly back to center. I still didn’t trust him not to say something awful at any second, though.
I cleared my throat and said, “Hi Sam,” and then moved around my desk to put my purse away.
Sam turned and his eyes widened slightly and then traveled down the length of me and back up, the blue-gray orbs dark and clouded as he did so. “I’d tell you that you look nice today, but that’d probably be ina
ppropriate,” he said.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to that. “Okay.” I hadn’t gotten a chance to look and see if his brother was in his office, but I’d seen his truck out front. “Hi Chance,” I ventured.
Six feet of rugged handsomeness appeared in the doorway. “Miranda,” Chance said. His gorgeous eyes landed on me and my face was immediately inflamed.
I accidentally giggled, but covered by clearing my throat. Which led to an uncomfortable tickle as something in my throat got jostled the wrong way, and suddenly I was coughing uncontrollably, gripping the edge of the desk. Dammit. I didn’t want to die choking on my own spit in front of Chance Palmer.
“You okay?” Sam came around the desk and put a hand on my back. I was coughing too hard to shake him off.
I nodded my head, but when I kept coughing, Sam pounded the hand on my back and sent me lurching forward, bending almost in half over the desk.
“Hey!” I managed as my coughing fit faded. “You just clobbered me!”
“Sorry, thought you were dying.” Sam shrugged and gave me the annoying little-boy grin he’d been wearing since we were six. “Didn’t mean to whack you so hard.”
Chance was grinning at me like he thought this entire episode was either charming or downright hilarious. I was going with charming. I pushed my hair behind my ears and stood up straight, using one hand to wipe my chin in case spit might be sliding down it. “So what’s going on today?” I asked, trying my best to look put together and professional.
“We’re scheduled to do a site survey for the Allen’s new cabin,” Sam said. He ran a hand over his forehead as he stepped back to the other side of my desk, making a face I couldn’t identify. “But I’m really not feeling that well.” He made another face, scrunching his mouth and nose together like he smelled something awful. I wondered if he’d finally realized that black licorice was disgusting—a vague scent of the spicy sweet clung to him again this morning. I’d noticed it when he came around to slug me a minute before.
“What’s wrong, little bro? Too many beers last night?” Chance didn’t look worried about his brother. He turned to me, “Little guy can’t hold his liquor. Never could.”
I had no idea what to say to that, so I just nodded. Neither of the Palmers were “little guys” and I got the distinct sense Chance used this term to subtly put his brother down, and that didn’t fit with my good-guy image of him. An unfamiliar dislike prickled in me.
“Well, anyway,” Sam said, holding his stomach now and backing toward the door. “I think I’d better go home. You two will have to handle things on your own this morning.”
Chance sighed and stepped out to face me as Sam put a hand on the front door. “We’ve got this, right Miranda? We’ll head over to the Allen’s in fifteen minutes.”
A thrill ran through me, both at being directly addressed by Chance, and at the thought of working right next to him today. Plus, if we were going to the Allen’s, I’d get to sit next to him in a car—that’d be closer than I’d ever been to Chance, with the exception of the time when he caught me after I’d tripped off the curb in the parking lot last winter. Or the time he’d put his arm around me at prom—but then I’d been to ashamed and humiliated to enjoy it.
Sam pulled the door open and turned back to face me. Chance had gone back into his office and didn’t see it when Sam gave me two thumbs up and a wink, whispering too loudly, “Go get him, tiger.”
I made a face at Sam, realizing he wasn’t sick at all. As the door to the office closed and I took my place behind the desk, I understood that Sam had engineered a day for me to be alone with Chance. The question now was, what was I going to do?
I had to be calm, and I needed to let Chance see that I was mature and intelligent, too. The more I contemplated what I might possibly talk about with him on the upcoming car ride, the more nervous I became. I was so focused on my own thoughts, the ringing phone made me jump.
“Palmer Construction,” I said, answering the main line.
“You’re welcome,” came a deep familiar voice. Sam.
“Thank you?” I said, ceding the point. When he’d said he was going to ‘help’ me, I’d imagined some useful tips, but I guessed this worked too. “Any advice?” I asked, second-guessing myself a bit for giving Sam an opening. I generally tried not to be vulnerable in front of him, but this situation had turned everything on its side.
“Sure. So my brother is completely self-absorbed. Just focus the conversation on him, and he’ll adore you.”
“Is that real advice or are you just being an ass?” I whispered, turning away from Chance’s office.
Sam chuckled on the other end of the line. “I guess you’ll find out,” he said. Something in his voice sounded sad, but despite Maddie’s suggestion that I might feel sorry for Sam, I wasn’t going to ask him why. The fact that he was doing anything to help me was shocking enough. “Good luck,” he said.
“Thanks,” I managed.
Just after I’d hung up, Chance stepped into his doorway, his solid wide shoulders filling the space. “Ready?” He wore a plaid flannel shirt, similar to the one Sam had on this morning, but on Chance it was like wearing a tuxedo. It enhanced the color of his eyes, made the little hollow point at the base of his throat look positively lickable where it was framed by the soft fabric on either side, and made his tanned muscular forearms look like they were carved from some dark expensive stone. He was almost too perfect looking, if that was even possible. I could barely breathe, let alone form a word, so I just stood nodding my assent.
It occurred to me that I was supposed to be helping in some way, but I had no idea what my job would be in relation to a site survey. “What do I need to bring?” I asked, glad to have a task to focus on.
“Something to record notes and measurements,” Chance said, tucking a pencil next to his ear as he grabbed a toolbox from the floor next to the cabinet. “I’ve got most of what we’ll need in the truck.” He opened a cupboard and pulled something out, then placed it on my desk. “Here, you be in charge of this,” he said.
It was a fancy digital camera, the kind with removable lenses and delicate parts that I suspected were easily broken. Oh jeez. “Okay,” I said, picking it up and pulling the strap around my neck. The camera hung in front of my chest and I realized I probably just looked like a wayward tourist, so I quickly pulled it back off, slinging it over one shoulder instead.
Chance watched all this with amusement. “Ready to go there, George?”
Oh God, he couldn’t call me George. I hated my last name. Kids in high school had all called me George, and it had been the perfect clumsy oafy name to go with my clumsy oafy ways. “Call me Miranda,” I managed to say.
Chance was holding the door open for me, and he smiled when I said this as if I’d told him a joke. “Sure, sorry about that.”
We went outside and I got into the passenger side of the Palmer Construction truck, holding my breath as Chance climbed in beside me. When he shot me a winning grin and then pulled a pair of sunglasses from the dash, my heart nearly stopped. How could one man be so handsome?
We met Abraham Allen on a lot at the far eastern edge of the village, where his family had owned a cabin for almost a hundred years. The original structure had been modified through the years—only in that it now had an indoor bathroom (though the outhouse still stood, leaning, up the hillside), and the walls were enclosed. The earliest cabins up here had been tented sleeping platforms with separate kitchen tents. My own house had begun that way. Most of the cabins got upgraded and modified over the generations, and a lot of them were as modern as any house in the valley at this point. But Mr. Allen hadn’t done much to the structures his great grandfather had originally erected, and now he hoped to change that.
“Hey Abe, how are you?” Chance greeted the older man with a handshake and another of his winning smiles. I wondered if the smile had the same effect on Abe Allen that it had on me, but since he seemed capable of responding, I guessed t
he answer was no.
“Good, Chance. Hey Miranda. You doing construction now? Don’t think those are the right shoes for the job.” Abe laughed at his own joke, and all three of us looked down at where the soft hillside dirt now crept into the toes of my sandals, turning my toes a lovely shade of dirt brown and gathering at the edges of my pale pink toenails.
I felt the flush creep up my neck. “Didn’t know I’d be outside the office today,” I said, glancing quickly at Chance.
“We like to keep her guessing,” Chance said, still chuckling. “We’ll get you some steel-toed boots before we get you working demolition, okay?” As he said this, Chance threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me tightly in to his side. It was a friendly gesture that went with his joke, but it nearly sent me to the ground in a puddle. My heart tried to fly out of my chest and I was pretty sure all the blood in my body had flooded into the points on my right side where Chance’s hard body was making contact with my own.
God, he felt like he was made out of steel. And he was so tall, and warm, and…oh God, there was that heady smell again. I loved his cologne. As Chance let me go and I struggled not to fall over, I was surprised to find my mind noticing the absence of anise. Almost wishing for it? Which was crazy, because I hated it.
Abe and Chance had begun walking the property, and once I’d recovered from Chance’s…hug? Could I call that a hug? In my memories it would definitely be a hug. I scrambled to keep up.
“The laws about renovation are a little complicated up here,” Chance was saying as Abe waved his arms around, telling Chance what he wanted to build. “Because the entire village is considered historic, you aren’t supposed to obscure the original structure, demo it, or add anything out of scale with it.”
Abe stopped walking and stared at Chance. “So you’re telling me I can shine up these two little sheds and that’s it?”
Chance laughed and patted Abe’s back with a wink. “Nah, we’ve got a few tricks up our sleeve.” He pulled out a measuring tape and began barking out numbers, which I managed to write down as he said them. He stopped every few minutes to sketch something on a pad, and after about fifteen minutes, he walked back to where Abraham had sat on a tree stump to watch. “How about something like this?” He showed the pad to Abe and I stepped behind him, gazing over the older man’s head.
Love Reimagined Page 7
