Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After

by Krista Phillips

  She’d always had a feel for houses. It was one reason she’d wanted to work with her dad, so she’d know how to take care of them when she found a gem. “I don’t believe in flipping houses just because you can make a good profit. When you invest that kind of time, you need to know it’s going to be enjoyed by someone for a long time to come.”

  “You don’t think people who buy flips enjoy them?”

  Deidre shrugged. “Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. The point is, you don’t know. Don’t you want to know?”

  “I do. But I’ve also been told that’s unusual.” He reached for another helping of nachos. “It’s nice to know I’m in good company.”

  Warmth spread through her but she frowned. She wasn’t going there. Even if he was good looking. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “How’d you end up a handyman?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve always been good with my hands. Started fixing things here and there, word got around, people would call. Before I realized what was happening, I had a business. I thought about leaving—heading up your way, actually. Thought I’d try to get on one of your crews. But ended up staying put.”

  Something—sorrow?—flashed in his eyes. Would he talk about it? “What happened? From what I’ve seen, you would’ve been a shoe-in.”

  Jeremiah shrugged. “The girl I’d been dating since our junior year in high school was moving up there. She had a job with one of the local TV stations. I figured I’d go along, and, once we both were settled in a job, I’d propose, we’d get married, and, I don’t know, live happily ever after, I guess.”

  “That sounds…perfect. Why aren’t you busy working on your two-point-five kids?”

  “Turned out that she didn’t want me to tag along. The move was her way of breaking up without having to bother with the messy part of telling me she didn’t love me. Never had.” He stood and started collecting plates. “It’s not as tragic as it sounds. I like it here well enough. And for now, this seems to be where God has me planted. So, I choose to bloom.”

  How could he be so content after something like that? “Why don’t you blame God?”

  He set the dishes in the sink and turned. “Why would I?”

  “Wasn’t that your dream? Marrying her, living up near D.C.? And He took it away.”

  Jeremiah frowned. “God didn’t take it away; Elise did. It’s not as if God owes us the fulfillment of our dreams, even if they’re dreams He gives us. I think sometimes God gives us dreams to see if we’re willing to trust Him with them.”

  Deidre pushed her laptop aside and rubbed her neck. She checked the time and reached for her phone, tapping the speed dial for her brother.

  “D? You okay?”

  “Hi Duncan. Yeah, I’m fine. Is it too late? It’s too late. I can talk to you tomorrow.”

  “It’s fine. I’m still awake. What’s up?”

  “Someone—a friend—said something tonight that got me thinking. I wanted to run it by you.” Jeremiah was a friend. The more she thought about it, the truer it seemed. Even if she’d only had a few interactions with him.

  “Friend, huh? I’m glad you’re making friends already. What’d she say?”

  “He. Doesn’t matter. Anyway. Do you trust God with your dreams?”

  “Like at bedtime?”

  She laughed. “No. Your dreams. Goals. Aspirations. Like this job issue you’re having. You said God’s got you. But…you also said you thought He gave you that job. How can He give you a dream and then yank it away?”

  “Ah. I guess it comes down to what your end goal really is.”

  Deidre frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “My end goal isn’t this job—or any job, really. I want God to use me where He thinks I’ll be most effective, doing whatever it is He wants me to do. I think, given that I have an aptitude for landscape architecture, that’s always going to be part of it. But if it isn’t, that’s okay too.”

  “Where’d you come up with that? Mom and Dad were big on using our brains, our talents, having goals, and doing what it took to achieve them. Where does God come into that?”

  “That’s tougher. I’ve been where you are, Dee, thinking God only mattered at the front part, where He gave us a brain and sent us out into the world to do our best with it. But He doesn’t walk away and leave you to figure it out on your own. If you’re willing to ask Him for help, and really listen for His guidance, He’s going to show you where He wants you to be.”

  Would He? When Paul had approached her with the offer to help out in his flipping business, it had seemed like the exact answer to her prayers. The handyman business had been floundering. Working with Paul got them jobs and contacts for the future. A lot of their repeat business still came from that, even if Paul wasn’t part of the picture anymore. But the way Paul left—the damage he’d done to her reputation with the production company after their first season filming—how was that God?

  “You’re quiet. Did I make you mad?” Duncan’s voice was soft.

  “No. Just thinking. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. While you’re thinking, ask yourself this: why are you down there with that big old house to renovate? Were you following God’s nudge or running away?”

  Deidre bristled. “I’m not running from anything.”

  “Okay. One more piece of advice?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  “Find a church. You’ll hear God more clearly if you’re working on your relationship with Him.”

  Deidre smoothed her hand over the single skirt she’d thrown in her suitcase at the last minute. Her mother always harped on the fact that ladies needed to have something nice just in case. Looked like listening had, finally, paid off. Even if God didn’t care what she wore. And she was obsessing about this entirely too much.

  Church. It had been a long time. At least two years. Maybe a little longer? She’d spent ten minutes on the Internet on her phone trying to figure out where to go. For such a rural area, there were plenty of options. She sifted through the papers on kitchen counter. There it was. She grabbed Jeremiah’s business card—she really ought to just enter him in her phone. She opened a new contact, tapped in Jeremiah’s information and saved it, then opened a new text.

  “Hi. It’s Deidre. Can I conga crutch with news?”

  When she saw how it sent, she groaned and tapped again, this time more carefully.

  “Come to church with you.”

  When she was sure nothing had been weirdly corrected, she hit send. She could almost hear him laughing at her.

  “Conga crutching sounds like fun but I usually avoid news. Church good 2. Want me 2 pick u up?”

  Did she? Then she’d be stuck with him, on his time table. But it beat wandering the winding roads looking for something while the service was about to start.

  “k. am ridiculous.”

  With a sigh, she sent a correction.

  “Ready”

  This is why she didn’t text. Ever. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to call. What if he’d thought she was hitting on him? Or if he hadn’t wanted her to come? Those awkward pauses when someone was trying to figure out how to let you down gently? No thank you. At least texting saved her from that. Sort of.

  “:) will leave soon. C U in 15ish”

  Fifteen minutes. She pressed a hand to her stomach. What was she thinking? She was thinking maybe her brother was right. Not that she’d tell him that. Church. All right, God. Maybe it’s time I came back.

  Chapter 6

  Fifteen minutes. Jeremiah glanced down at his jeans and, frowning, stalked back into his bedroom. He had some khakis in the closet. They were probably even ironed. He peeled off the Henley he’d chosen and dug through a drawer for a polo. There was enough spring in the air that he could justify short sleeves. Shoes. No. He drew the line at his shoes. His work boots were comfortable and decent enough. Most people couldn’t even tell they were boots, because his pants covered…what was he doing? Sho
es. For crying out loud, he might as well dig up a purse to carry.

  He tucked his shirt into the dress pants, ran a hand over his hair, and stuffed his wallet and phone into his pockets. Grabbing his keys off the kitchen island, he headed out to the truck. He was halfway down the driveway when he stopped.

  “Dang it.” Jeremiah threw the truck into park and jogged back inside to grab his Bible. The woman was driving him to distraction. He’d barely slept all night, replaying their conversation over and over, looking for any hint that she felt the attraction he did. He’d given it up as hopeless.

  And then she’d texted.

  He chuckled. Clearly she didn’t re-read things before she sent them. Which fit. She didn’t strike him as someone who took time on things she deemed unimportant. If it mattered, sure, she’d focus and get it right. That was obvious just looking at the repairs she’d already made to Peacock Hill.

  He turned up the long driveway that wound up the mountain to the mansion. Would she pave it? A couple of winters here and she might just realize she needed to. Would she stay through the winter? A pang hit his heart. He wanted her to. He’d have to see what he could do about that.

  He shifted the truck into park and cut off the engine. Deidre started down the steps as he rounded the hood. Was she ever going to let him get to the door? He opened the car and waited. “Morning.”

  “Hi.” She stopped at the truck and held his gaze. “Thanks for picking me up. I…you could’ve just sent me directions. Or an address. I have GPS. Or…”

  Jeremiah shook his head and pressed a finger to her lips. “It’s my pleasure. You look lovely.”

  Red washed over her cheeks and she looked away before running a hand down her navy blue skirt covered with tiny white flowers. “Is it too much? Am I over-dressed?”

  “No. You’re lovely. You’ll see a range of clothes. Hop in.”

  “I should’ve worn jeans, right? You were gonna wear jeans.” She slid into the truck, holding her purse on her lap.

  “I was. But when I knew I was picking you up, I changed.” Jeremiah winked and shut the door. He kicked himself as he went around to the driver’s side. He was coming on too strong. And she wasn’t his type.

  But he wanted her to be.

  “I’m so glad you came today.” Jeremiah’s mom wrapped Deidre in a hug and wiggled her eyebrows at Jeremiah. “Can you join us for lunch?”

  “Oh. I…don’t want to intrude.”

  “Nonsense. You remember the way to the house?”

  Deidre shot Jeremiah a look.

  He shrugged. If his mom wanted Deidre to come for lunch, he wasn’t going to object. All through the service, he’d been trying to figure out how to ask. So much that he’d only caught the very first scripture reference. He was going to have to listen to it online when they got it up later in the week. “I picked her up.”

  His mother’s eyebrows shot up, and a smile spread across her features. “Even better. I’ll find your daddy, Jeremiah, and see you two in a little bit.”

  “Are you sure…” Deidre twisted her fingers together.

  “It’s just lunch. My mom likes to do a big Sunday meal. She’s always inviting someone.” He winced. Way to make her feel welcome. “I didn’t mean—”

  “No, that helps, actually. You’re sure it’s not an imposition?”

  Jeremiah took her hand, forcing his thoughts away from the shivers that caused. “I’m sure. Come on, you should at least get a chance to meet the pastor on your way out.”

  Deidre didn’t pull her hand away. Did she feel it too?

  “Hi, thanks for coming this morning.” The pastor smiled as he shook Deidre’s hand. “Friend of Jeremiah’s?”

  “Oh, well, yes. I guess?” She stared up at him, looking lost.

  “Deidre’s new to the area. She bought Peacock Hill and is fixing it up. And I’d like to think we’re friends, yes.” He squeezed her hand. Her fingers tightened around his.

  “Well, now, I can’t wait to see it when you get it finished. That house is a bit of a family member to just about everyone who lives in the area. It was a real shame when old Mrs. Ebbit had to move into the nursing facility over in Charlottesville. Her kin never did seem to know what to do with the place. I’m glad they found someone to give it the love it needs. Hope we’ll see you back again with us.”

  Deidre nodded.

  Jeremiah led her out into the parking lot. “You okay?”

  “Why is everyone so nice?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  She hunched her shoulders. “It’s not. But I keep looking for the thorn in all these roses.”

  “Oh, we have thorns, plenty of ‘em. Give it another week, maybe two, and the gossip will start trickling to your ears. Mrs. Patterson over there, don’t look, she’s the worst about it. She’ll tell the whole town about something and then smile to your face and ask how you’re doing.”

  “What’d she say about you?”

  He frowned. “What makes you think—”

  “Please. The way you said her name gave it away. Come on. ‘Fess up.”

  Jeremiah opened the passenger door of his truck and helped her in. He had no intention of answering that question. Not one. Maybe she’d let it go. He closed the door and rounded the hood. “I should call Mom and see if we need to pick anything up on the way.”

  “First answer the question.”

  He dropped his phone in the cup holder and shifted in his seat so he could look at her. “You’re not letting it go, are you?”

  “Nope. Like a dog with a bone, when I want to be.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes at him.

  He sighed. “Fine. In high school, I snuck out of the house—only once, mind you—but she caught a glimpse of me and, before I knew what hit me, everyone knew about it. Just my luck that the youth pastor’s house got egged that night.”

  “You egged your youth pastor’s house?” Deidre shook her head. “I’m surprised they still let you in the front door of the church.”

  “I did no such thing.” He started the truck and backed out of the parking space. “And she never said I did, either. She just hinted at it.” His voice went up several octaves. “Oh, isn’t it so sad? That Jeremiah was such a promising young man, but he’s out at all hours doing who knows what. Why just the other night I happened to see him…”

  Deidre snorted out a laugh. Her hand flew to her face.

  “Did you just snort?”

  She shook her head. And snorted again.

  Jeremiah laughed. “Well, well. Just wait ‘til Mrs. Patterson finds out about that.”

  As he turned in at Deidre’s driveway, Jeremiah looked over. “I’m glad you texted me this morning. Thanks for staying to lunch.”

  “Even though I didn’t really have a choice, I’m glad, too.” She grinned.

  “Maybe we could do it again next week?” He felt her eyes on him but kept his gaze firmly on the road ahead.

  “Okay. But maybe you could come for lunch here, instead?”

  “You cook?”

  “Not like your mom, but you won’t starve.”

  It wasn’t a ringing endorsement, but he’d risk food poisoning for more time alone with her. “It’s a date.”

  She cleared her throat.

  Jeremiah pulled up behind a white van with “Flippin’ for You!” emblazoned on the side across pictures of the host and some of his projects. “Um.”

  “He wouldn’t.” Deidre threw open the door before the truck was completely stopped and jumped down. “Paul!”

  The girl could bellow. Jeremiah shifted into park and cut the engine, hopping out of the truck and tucking his hands in his pockets. He followed in Deidre’s wake as she headed around the side of the house, still yelling for the host. Jeremiah reviewed what she’d said about the show when she was over yesterday. She’d sidestepped. Neatly. And she’d known the guy’s last name. Which suggested…he stopped as the TV host, looking camera-ready in his khakis
and denim shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grinned and scooped Deidre off her feet to turn her in a circle.

  “Put me down, Paul.” Deidre pushed at his chest.

  Paul set her down and landed a smacking kiss on her cheek. “You’ve done it again, Dee. I don’t know how you always find these houses. Who’s the client?”

  Deidre crossed her arms. “Why?”

  Jeremiah leaned against the corner of the house, his mind racing. She didn’t look like she’d welcomed the kiss, but there was something there. A history. He shook his head. What was it with him and women who wanted to be on TV? Was he ever going to find someone who’d be content with him? Even if it meant they never moved away from here?

  “Don’t be like that, Dee. This house needs to be on my show. Just point me to the homeowner…” Paul trailed off as his gaze found Jeremiah. His grin had the TV sparkle and used car salesman built in. He crossed the grass with his hand out. “That must be you. I’m Paul Rossi, it’s great to meet you.”

  “Jeremiah Crawford.” He took Paul’s hand. There was no way that man did any work with tools. Unless he coated his hands with petroleum jelly and wrapped them in socks every night like his grandma used to do. The image made him smile. “I’ve always enjoyed your show.”

  Deidre cleared her throat as she closed the distance. “Paul.”

  “Don’t worry, Dee. This way you’re not even responsible for me finding out. Convenient, right? Of course, that might mean you don’t get in on the crew. We’ll have to see.” Paul turned his attention back to Jeremiah. “Now, Mr. Crawford, how about we head inside and you can give me the tour and I can tell you what being on Flippin’ for You can do for your property.”

  Jeremiah shook his head, his gaze darting to Deidre. “I don’t think so. You see, there appears to have been a misunderstanding. As much as I’d love to own Peacock Hill, I was about a year away from having the cash. So, this beauty belongs to Ms. McIntyre, and I believe I’ll be going. It was a pleasure.”

  “Jeremiah!”

  He kept walking. Jeremiah wasn’t interested in being caught in the middle of old friends. Or more than friends. That put a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn’t compete with someone like Paul Rossi. Didn’t want to. Except. He yanked open the door to his truck, his gaze falling on Deidre as she hurried around the corner of the house.