Perfect Scents

by Virginia Taylor

  Emily had adopted the classic look shared by women who expected a comfortable marriage to a comfortable income. Callis and Emilys didn’t stand out from the crowd. They hoped. They kept themselves neat and clean while waiting for the right man to come along. Since Kellen was clearly not the right man for Emily, the smartest thing she had done was to disappear with Trent.

  Trent, an artisan with enthusiasm for his work, had a far more comfortable marriage potential than Kellen. Though what would Calli know about that? Her only two real relationships had been with men who could at best be described as marking time. She hadn’t been enough for either of them.

  Neither Calli nor Emily should waste a second of her time slavering over an alpha male like Kellen, the macho type who expected a woman to prepare lunch for his buddy and the gardener next door. Had his attitude not been so outrageous, Calli might have experienced a short moment of yearning.

  Though, what sort of savvy businessman would let his tradesmen remove leadlight windows from an old house in this exclusive area? Even without a renovation, the place would be worth a mint. The land alone was worth a million, give or take a dollar or two.

  She clicked her tongue as she stepped back to check the forty-five-degree curve she had used to take her staked-out path around the house from the back patio to the side veranda. This area overlooked the tennis court on the shady side of the house in front of her cottage. From here, she could see nothing of the house next door other than the overgrowth and the roof. The house next door certainly had potential.

  She almost laughed. Her former imaginings about Kellen being a gangster now seemed ludicrous. When she had entered his current residence, she had seen a place as neat as any occupied by two single men. They slept in camping beds in the front room, but she hadn’t noted clothes scattered all over the floor. Similarly, the kitchen, while old fashioned, had no dirty dishes lingering in the sink, no filthy tea towels slung over chairs. Drug dealers would have plastic bags filled with dried leaves lined up along the countertops, or brown paper packages tied up in string.

  She smiled wryly when she realized she was humming “these are a few of my favorite things” from The Sound of Music. Drugs weren’t her favorite things. She had been called straight by Grayson’s crowd, and straight she was, if not downright disapproving. She should have rethought her business plan the first time she saw Grayson with a white line, but he had shrugged and smiled. Her mind-story had told her he was too smart to continue. Her new cynicism told her most of her money would never be retrieved.

  The paths she planned took her all the way around the house. Between the judge’s house and the sandstone two-story on the other side, she would plant a formal row of white crepe myrtles softened with a border of the sea lavender, a pretty block-out of the fence. Along the back, fruit trees with raised beds of vegetables in front would keep the judge’s young grandchildren amused. A child could have such fun in the garden, picking fruit, planting, and harvesting food.

  Memories of her own childhood came and went, and she disciplined her mind to the job at hand. Tomorrow her load of stones would arrive. In the back garden, the paths would be wood chip with a rock border edging, hard and soft together to make a textured contrast. If Kellen or Trent barrowed the rocks to various points for her, her job would be made so much easier. Her working life, that was.

  The other part of her life where she worried about money, hoped to redeem herself, wished she had been stronger, smarter, and less willing to believe extravagant stories, seemed to be receding into the background. Passing scrutiny when she had been so closely examined by Emily, pleased her. She had wriggled out of the I know you from somewhere questioning—Where did you go to school? Do you know so-and-so?—quite neatly. Her new life might go as planned, with her getting on with her work, earning her wages, and proving herself businesslike.

  Finally her parched throat took her back to the cottage for a glass of water. The cat greeted her at the door and edged past, tail cocky as she left to find a spot to do her business. Time had flown. Now past five, Calli could end work for the day. She changed the cat’s water, and put her food bowl in the sink. In two days, Hobo had changed from wretched bundle of bones into a confident bundle of bones. Her eyes still wept, but with healing tears and not pus.

  After Calli had washed and changed, she examined her face in the mirror, thinking that somehow she looked less tired, although she was physically exhausted. And hungry. Tomorrow she would need to go to the bank to see if her starting wage had been deposited. The cat still had half a can of fish to consume, but tonight Calli would be eating crackers again. The lunch should have tided her over, but she still had an empty space to fill.

  She peanut-buttered her crackers, joined them two by two, and took them on a plate with a white chair outside to eat in the waning daylight. Her door smacked behind her.

  “Is that you?” she heard a male voice say on the other side of the fence.

  Since she didn’t know if she was being addressed, she kept quiet.

  “Calli?”

  “Yes. Did the sound of the door bother you?” she said with an amount of exasperation. She had complained about the noise. Now she was the noisy neighbor.

  “Not at all. It’s me—Trent. Come to the fence, and we can talk.” The top of his head appeared, and then his eyes, crinkled as if he was smiling.

  She stood and moved over to him. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I heard you needed help with lifting. While I’m cleaning bricks, or stacking tiles, I need a change of position from time to time. I can help you almost any time you like. A break would do me the world of good.”

  “Trent, that’s wonderful. Can you come over here to talk to me? I’m just about to make coffee.”

  “Real coffee?”

  “Pod coffee.”

  “I’ll have to walk around. I don’t take fences in a single bound like Super-Kell.”

  “Kell? You call him Kell?”

  “When I’m not calling him ‘Killer.’”

  “I’ll start up the machine.”

  She put two cups on the warmer, connecting the two names, and actually blushed, mortified that her overactive imagination had led her so far astray. For no reason at all, she had scared herself. She went outside again to watch Trent chugging down the long driveway. “Sorry I don’t have cookies, too,” she said, holding the door for him to enter. “The larder is quite bare.”

  “We have a couple of packets to spare. Kell’s sister-in-law brought us a basketful of stuff from the country. Even fruitcake. Do you like fruitcake? We won’t eat it. I’ll call Kell and ask him to toss some stuff over the fence.”

  Chapter 5

  Calli stood in her doorway hot with embarrassment as Trent yelled for Kell. Kell answered back, and packs of cellophane-wrapped stuff sailed over the fence before Kell, whose hands then gripped the top of the fence. First, his face appeared. Then, somehow, he lifted to the full extent of his arms, placed one foot on the top of the fence, and swung his body over, landing upright on Calli’s side.

  “Real coffee,” he said, still looking totally cool, because that’s what he was—a deadly package of calm and inscrutability. If she hadn’t known he was a tradesman, she would have guessed he was a businessman, a corporate lawyer; a man who was used to keeping his secrets close. He rubbed his hands together as he walked into the cottage, which appeared to shrink around him. “I hope I can control my tremors. That’s if I’m invited with my cake and cookies?” He frowned at her half-eaten peanut butter crackers.

  “Cake is the entry fee today. Please, take a seat.”

  Since Trent had said he and Kell wouldn’t eat the fruitcake, she emptied a pack of his pistachio and white chocolate cookies onto a plate, and passed each man his coffee as soon as the cup filled. “Milk?” She took the carton from the fridge and put a small amount in each cup before sitting.

  Then she salivated. Her hand trembled as she reached for a cookie. S
he didn’t want to speak. She wanted to savor the first taste of empty calories she’d had in a month. She crammed her mouth full while the men savored the aroma of the coffee.

  “Coffee,” Trent said in a reverent voice. “Now the only thing missing is hot water for my shower in the morning. Did you get hold of Luke, Kell?”

  “Luke is my younger brother,” Kell said to Calli. “He does my plumbing. If you like cheese, we have too much in our fridge. And ham.” He glanced at Trent.

  Trent nodded. “Hell, yes. You can get really sick of all that healthy stuff.”

  “Do you have a phone?” Kell drummed his fingers on the table while his heart-bumping gaze assessed her.

  She nodded, thinking about glorious fatty cheese and how to look casual about him getting rid of some ham in her direction.

  He pulled his phone from his back pocket. “Put your number in here, and I’ll put mine in yours. Then if you need anything, you can call me.”

  “I used to wonder how he picked up women,” Trent said in a voice of resignation. “Living with him is like taking on another apprenticeship.”

  “Calli is a woman alone tucked away at the back of the block. I, for one,” Kell said in a dark voice, “would like to know she has someone to call if she has a problem.” He gave Trent a reprimanding glance. “And, I don’t want to scare the hell out of her if I drop in to see her.”

  “You could knock on the fence.”

  “And you think that won’t scare her?”

  “Would it?” Trent stared at her.

  “Not now, because I’ve met you. But if someone snuck up behind me in the garden, I might not be too brave.”

  Kell’s mouth relaxed. “I’ll get the ham and cheese.”

  Calli picked up his phone and added her number, trying not to see how many first-name women he had there already.

  Kell came back with a small wheel of brie, a triangle of blue-vein cheese, a box of expensive-looking crackers, a shrink-wrapped hunk of ham, a pack of dried figs, and a bag of walnuts. “The cheese is a bit fancy for us,” he said as he dropped the food onto Calli’s kitchen countertop. “So are figs and walnuts.”

  Trent nodded in agreement. “You have to feel sorry for Jay, Kell’s brother. He has to eat this sort of stuff a lot these days.” Bringing the coffee mug to his nose, he inhaled the aroma and made a sound of pleasure. “I’m a pie and sauce man myself.”

  Calli glanced at him and didn’t believe a word either man had said. Both had healthy bodies and good skin. They were being inordinately generous, and she had no way of paying them back. She sighed, staring at the wonderful offerings. “You realize that I’m not going to be able to charge you for my horticultural advice now. This more than compensates for anything I can do for you.”

  Kell looked down at her, his dark eyebrows lowering. “Accept this as an apology for tackling you last night. And since I’m giving away food I was given myself, I’m hardly being noble.” He folded his arms and squared his determined jaw.

  “He doesn’t have a noble bone in his body,” Trent said, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Believe me. On his best day, he’s a selfish bastard, and I should know because I’ve been working with him.”

  Kell lowered himself into a chair again and picked up his mug. “He’s complaining because he had to wash the dishes last night. I’ll call him names when it’s my turn.” He took a long gulp of his coffee and sighed with appreciation.

  “It’s never your turn. One thing you are not is domesticated,” Trent said, his voice resigned.

  Calli tried to concentrate on her cup. Sitting as close as she did to Kell, she knew he had showered recently. He smelled clean and soapy, which was the best sort of odor on a man, an aroma a woman wanted to breathe in and then lick off. Her insides flared with unwelcome lust while she stared at the coffee in front of her. “I know insults between guys are terms of endearment.” She tried an off-hand tone, which sounded slightly husky. “I have a brother, though you guys would be tougher than he is. For example, I don’t think he would consider taking a cold shower.” She drummed her fingers on her thigh, hoping she had made a leading statement.

  “I wouldn’t be considering it either unless I was forced,” Trent said dourly. “Kell doesn’t care. He wasn’t brought up soft like me.” He eyed Kell.

  “How long do you think it will take to get your hot water back again?” she asked Kell, still hoping, and trying to bat her naked, probably invisible eyelashes.

  He glanced at the table. “Two weeks to a month. Luke didn’t see any point in repairing the pipes in the old bathroom since we need to put in an en suite and a main bathroom upstairs. One thing we’ve got upstairs is plenty of space for bedrooms and bathrooms.”

  “A month?” Trent said in a tone of outrage. “I’m giving you my notice now.”

  “Don’t be a wimp.”

  “Geez, Kell. It’s early spring. The cold weather hasn’t ended yet. This sunny break won’t last. Though, maybe I could shower at the gym.” His face twisted with thought.

  “Or,” Calli said, her voice hopeful. “You could shower here. In exchange for work in the garden.”

  Trent moistened his lips. “Done. I’ll give you double the time I take in the shower.”

  “So, that would be a minimum of ten minutes?”

  “Say quarter of an hour.”

  “So, I’ll get an hour every four days, unless Kell wants a hot shower, too?” She risked a quick glance at him.

  “I’ll be okay with cold.”

  She didn’t let her disappointment show. “So, Trent, are you any good at throwing rocks into a wheelbarrow?”

  “I worked for a bricklayer when I left school. I’ve done my apprenticeship in rock-throwing and I can throw bricks, too. When do you want me to start?”

  “The delivery is expected tomorrow. Any time from the end of this week.”

  “Not any time. You’re still working with me,” Kell said with a sideways glance at his friend.

  “I’ve never been so popular.” Trent nodded at Kell. “Well, boss, let me know when you can spare me.”

  “When we’ve got those outbuildings down and all the bricks cleaned.” Kell gave Trent a hard stare.

  “Are you going to reuse them?” Calli asked, knowing that waiting a week or two for free labor wouldn’t be a problem.

  “Sell them. People buy the old bricks for paving.” He lengthened his legs under the small table and his knee touched hers.

  Her leg reacted by lurching out of the way, embarrassing her. “I know. I use them sometimes in my gardens when I’m doing an old house.” She willed her expression to remain impartial.

  “Do you do many gardens?” Kell narrowed his gaze at her.

  “I used to. This is my first for six months.” She fingered the handle of her cup, seeing the tip of a cat’s tail twitch near the other side of Kell. “I moved onto design work instead.” And Grayson had done the bookwork that would never balance, not since he had taken her money and disappeared. She had sold almost everything she owned to stave off bankruptcy after he left, and even now she still owed money to her father who she should be able to pay back after this job, as long as she could keep her living costs minimal.

  “What sort of design work?”

  “Horticultural. That turned out to be my main interest.” The rest of the cat appeared with a sneaky intrusion onto Kell’s lap.

  He didn’t even look at Hobo. His big hand covered her back and his fingers massaged behind her ears. The little cat’s eyes slitted with pleasure as she settled on his knees, purring. “What made you take up gardening?”

  Calli tried to look casual, because strictly speaking, she hadn’t taken up gardening. Gardening had taken her up for the time being. Her initial degree had been in horticulture, to which she had added garden design as an adjunct to her family’s business. Then Grayson had convinced her to put all her money into a horticultural start-up she would run with him, designing new g
ardens for old homes. “I thought it would be an interesting way to earn a living.”

  “Isn’t it a bit too physical for a woman?” His thumb found a spot on Hobo’s back that caused her to writhe with ecstasy.

  “Not really. I don’t do much heavy work—mainly the designing. Normally I design and then supervise my workers. This job is different. I needed time out for a while and when I was offered this garden and the cottage for three months, I decided I could do the whole thing myself because I had three months instead of a few weeks.”

  “So, this is virtually a working holiday for you?”

  “Yes,” she said, eagerly grabbing onto the idea. “Time out away from the rat race. I can, actually, lay bricks and set stonework. If I had to, I could also barrow all the rocks around the garden, but I would rather pay someone else to do that. The judge left me enough money to pay a laborer.”

  “He paid you before he left?” Kell’s raised eyebrows expressed his astonishment.

  “I’d be a fool to try to diddle a judge, wouldn’t I?”

  “There’s that.” Kell gathered up the cat, placed her on Calli’s knee, and plonked his empty mug on the table. As he stood, he indicated to Trent that he should, too. “Thanks for the coffee. Much appreciated. Sorry I threw you to the ground.”

  The disgruntled cat leaped off Calli’s lap and stalked back to the couch.

  “Me, too,” Calli said, placing a palm over her lumbar region with a faked pained expression. But she wasn’t sorry. She could still recall his hard body against hers. At the time she had been scared. However, the memory of his raw masculine aggression remained with her, shortening her breath. Although she knew manly men existed, they didn’t usually didn’t take much interest in her. The men who did were usually university graduates whose main interests were hauling socially acceptable women from one exclusive function to the next. “Look before you leap, next time.”