Falling For Grace

by Janet W. Ferguson

  Alone. Unwanted. Betrayed.

  No.

  God was with her. The enemy wouldn’t steal that truth. She’d squash those dark, whispered lies from the adversary.

  God was her beloved, and she was His. Her joy had always been found in Him, and she couldn’t let her circumstances hijack her faith.

  The back door stuck when she pushed against it, and she dropped her beach bag just inside. She stepped onto the hardwood floor, and water met her feet.

  What in the world? Still standing in the open doorway, she scanned the room for an explanation. The sound of running water came from upstairs. Was someone showering? Could her distraction have led her to the wrong house? That would be awkward. She glanced around once more to confirm the furniture looked familiar.

  Then she spotted the issue across the room. Water dripping from the ceiling, running down a chandelier.

  Something upstairs must be leaking. Heart thumping, Grace ran toward the staircase, but slipped onto her backside, then glided across the floor. “Oh no!”

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?” a man’s voice called.

  Grace rolled around to find Seth, the handyman, standing at the door. His chiseled face clean-shaven, a platter in his hands. Was it that scrumptious barbeque she’d smelled? She shook off the thoughts. Not important. There was a tsunami in Brooklyn’s house to deal with.

  She scrambled to get up, but slipped again. These stupid flip-flops were going in the trash. The soles were slick, making them like skates on ice. Seth set aside the plate and bent over her. He lifted her up to stand. “Are you hurt?”

  Despite the calamity surrounding her, his sky-blue gaze halted her breathing for a split second, threatened to hold her mesmerized, and she fumbled for words. “I’m...I’m fine. We have to—”

  A crash burst through her Seth-stare-trance as the kitchen light fixture hit the ground. A splat of sheetrock followed. Grace flung her arms around Seth’s neck and shrieked. “Brooklyn’s going to fire me. I don’t know how, but I’ve destroyed the whole place, and I’ve only been in Santa Rosa a few hours.” Tears choked her, blurring her vision. “I can’t afford to get fired.”

  “You couldn’t have caused this. I need to cut off the water, though.” He stepped back and tipped her chin. “Can you stay in this spot? Like don’t take one step?”

  “Why? What if the ceiling crashes on me?”

  “Good point.” His gaze traveled upward. “I didn’t want you to fall.”

  Again. Fall again is what he meant. “I’m used to falling. We have to do something to save the house.”

  Seth’s forehead scrunched. “I don’t—”

  “I’ll be fine. Let’s hurry.”

  His brows lifted above those soulful eyes. “You hold onto me, and don’t let go.”

  “Yes.” The idea sounded disproportionately appealing considering the circumstances.

  Arm in arm, they navigated the stairs to the second floor. The water appeared to be flowing from a guest bedroom, and she hadn’t been in there. They splashed through the cold liquid and entered onto a squishy oriental rug. Then they came to a small bathroom beside the closet. The toilet gushed like a mini geyser.

  “Oh, my goodness.” She needed to cut the water off, ASAP. Releasing Seth, she lunged toward the back of the commode.

  He held on, and they both flopped forward, feet slipping, her arms flailing.

  They landed in a tangled mass on the floor, but she stretched and reached for the silver cutoff valve, turned it until the water slowed. “Why isn’t it stopping?”

  Shaking his head where he lay beside her on the tile floor, Seth laughed, that deep and hearty sound like the one she’d heard on the beach, as if this were what he did for fun every weekend. “You’re hard-headed, too?”

  Too? Something about the situation had her smiling despite the devastation. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  “Just wet.” He scuffled to his feet and offered her a hand, a smirk curling his full lips. “Do not let go this time.”

  “Got it.” Don’t let go of the hot guy, even to save the house. She took hold of his hand, squirmed up, and then slid her grip to his firm bicep. Not thinking about the strength there. Much.

  They carefully made their way outside and found the meter.

  “You may let go now.” His voice held a smile.

  “If you’re sure.” She complied, although she missed his warmth immediately.

  “I have to go get a meter key next door to shut off the water. You can come if you want.”

  “I’ll wait.” She didn’t want to come off as clingy, after all.

  Not after she’d latched onto him all the way outside.

  Why did she care if the man seemed to zap her dead heart to life? A nice, sweet handyman like Seth was probably married with children.

  Maybe she’d ask Brooklyn when they talked. Grace’s stomach sunk. And they’d have to talk soon. Oh, she dreaded the call she was about to make, trying to explain that Clumsy Grace hadn’t been the one to explode the toilet in her boss’s beach house.

  Chapter 3

  Seth couldn’t stop his smile. Grace stood in the exact spot and position he had left her.

  Good. She was safe. And cute. Soggy. Nibbling on her bottom lip, worry splattered over her expression. But cute.

  He jogged to the water meter, knelt, and opened the metal cover. After extending the key, he turned the valve until it stopped. “We should be good. I’ll call Brooklyn and explain what happened so she can get an insurance adjuster over.”

  “You’ll call her? Will you tell her I didn’t do it?” A divot formed between Grace’s brows, pinching Seth’s heart.

  Huh. She must have quite the reputation for accidents. And he must be a sucker for a blue-eyed damsel. He’d always had a protective streak. “Of course, I’ll explain. This mess is not your fault, Grace. Plumbing wears out. It happens more often than you think, especially near the salt water, and she’s lucky we were here. Imagine if the place had been vacant.”

  “Oh.” Her pert lips formed a circle. “I didn’t think of it in that way.” This news seemed to loosen the tension carved on her face.

  The warmth in Seth’s chest expanded. The pleasure he took in diminishing Grace’s stress was way out of proportion. They’d known each other less than a day. “I’ll make the call, then we’ll get started with the cleanup.”

  “We?” Her thankful gaze worked like a valve in his heart releasing a larger torrent of pent-up emotions. Emotions like the ones he’d come to Santa Rosa to try to heal. Instead he’d simply escaped and hidden from the past, burying everything from his former life.

  “Yes, we. And a crew of professionals I’m about to call.”

  Three hours later, Seth swiped his brow, took a deep slug of a Diet Coke he’d found in Brooklyn’s refrigerator, and kept an eye on Grace. She’d been a trouper, following each instruction given. And not even falling again—only a few near misses. So far.

  A strand of hair blew across her cheek as she carried a wet towel out to the deck. His thoughts made a path back to the feel of her in his arms. No one had been that physically close to him in a very long time. The contact had been nice.

  More than nice.

  His pulse raced, pounding in his ears. But, according to Brooklyn, Grace had travelled to Florida to recharge. He was pretty sure getting involved with another man—a damaged man—wasn’t on her to-do list. He needed to get to work on the remodel project and keep his crazy feelings in check.

  After Seth called the best restoration team in the area, the workers began to show up and start the process of cleaning up the water. They unplugged the appliances and electronics and set up huge fans. A few more guys arrived to carry out the wet rugs and cut away soaked drywall. They’d moved the furniture to the bedrooms not affected by the water, which meant a lot of pieces ended up in the master where Grace was planning to sleep. And that situation seemed like a disaster waiting to happen if she got up during the night. But ther
e were no other choices at the moment. He’d just have to offer her a nightlight.

  “We’re done, Seth.” Voice low and scratchy, Mac Strahan, the head of Mac’s Plumbing, strode down the staircase beside the electrician. His work boots clomped under his long saggy jeans, and his fifty-year-old face showed more wear and wrinkles than it should. The man had given up smoking years before but still spent hours casting a line in the Florida sun. “We can come and check how the fans are drying the walls tomorrow. The insurance adjuster will be here first thing, and we took photographs of everything. We’ll add Mrs. Barlow to our schedule. She said something about having her assistant be the point person for a remodel. She wanted to make a few cosmetic changes, too.”

  “She wants me to handle a remodel?” Grace’s voice came from all the way out on the deck. She sure had good ears. Within seconds, she stood in front of them, eyes wide, her intense gaze bouncing between him and Mac. “I don’t know much about construction.”

  A grin lifted Mac’s bearded cheeks. “No need to worry, little lady. You got the hardware king right beside you. He’s an expert.”

  Grace’s gaze landed on Seth, a tentative smile twitching. “So, you’re an expert? Are you a busy expert?”

  Her teeth captured her bottom lip in the most adorable way while she waited for an answer.

  As if he could say no. “I can help. I already volunteered, and Brooklyn’s agreed.”

  Her gaze lifted to the ceiling. “Thank you, Lord.”

  Interesting. Maybe Grace was a believer. That would be another plus.

  Not that he was counting.

  WHAT A CRAZY DAY. A weird and atrocious day, but somehow—she glanced at the house next door—bearable. Grace plopped into an iron recliner on the deck. The plumbing crew and the electrician had packed up and left, along with the other workers Seth had called to help. He’d walked the last man out to the street, and now the huge fans buzzing around the large home made it sound as if the place were full of giant swarming insects.

  A hot soak in Brooklyn’s elegant bathtub would be nice right about now, but with the water episode, the last thing she wanted to do was try the plumbing. What a mess. How was she going to manage a remodel on a place like this? Brooklyn was a great boss, but she had particular and exquisite style—the taste of the wealthy, not a middle-class girl from the suburbs.

  Between that and finishing all the work Grace had brought with her, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle everything that had been piled on her plate.

  “Hey, I can microwave the food from hours ago, or we can eat out. Your call.” The smooth, toasty voice tickled Grace’s ears. Seth’s voice.

  Grace turned to find him in the open doorway, his lips pinched in a reserved smile, a slight dimple in his chin, both of which caused a spike in her pulse. “I thought you left.”

  “I needed to nail down the schedule for the week. The breakers are off for the power in the waterlogged portion of the house, by the way.” He took a deep breath and then released it. “I haven’t had dinner, but the steaks and shrimp have been sitting out for a while. I’m not dying to get food poisoning after all this.” The moon hung low and large, and Seth’s eyes shimmered a reflection of the light, sparking a fire that shot up Grace’s neck and flooded her cheeks.

  Was he asking her out to dinner? “I’m sorry about your food. The smell practically had me drooling before I walked into—” She waved her hand toward the house, catching the small metal table beside her and knocking it over. “Oops.”

  Quickly, Seth stepped over and righted the piece. He ran his hand over it checking for damage. “No harm done.”

  “Whew.” She blew out a whistle. “Good.” Even a lawn table belonging to Brooklyn would be expensive to replace.

  “You’re a piece of work.” Chuckling, Seth moved closer. “Let’s go out. What do you say?”

  Tingles, like pricks of something akin to fuzzy caterpillars, walked across Grace’s arms and shoulders. He was asking her to dinner. She certainly didn’t want to be the other woman if he was married. She’d never do to another woman what her best friend had done to her. “What about your family? Aren’t they expecting you at home?”

  His smile faltered, and his face contorted for a ghost of a second before he recovered. His chin dipped. “There’s not anyone waiting. I’m not married, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  His answer begged more questions, but she’d not press. “Well”—she shrugged—“one never knows these days.”

  “It’s just dinner.” The sparkle returned to his eyes. “You have to be starving.”

  She should be, but her stomach had gotten used to being neglected. Except for business lunches and those occasional chocolate-cherry-chunk-ice-cream binges, she often forgot to eat. Okay, maybe more than occasional ice cream binges, but at least she splurged on the high protein brand. “I’m game.”

  “There you go.” He held out a hand to help her out of the recliner, as if he knew there might be an issue getting up. “Let’s do it.”

  She accepted his assistance and pushed her feet to the decking. Bone weary, she stood. “Oh, I am no doubt in need of food.”

  “You’re not going to pass out, are you?” Concern lifted his brows.

  “That hasn’t happened. My falls are completely unrelated to hunger. I’ve been tested for all sorts of disorders, and there’s no explanation, other than maybe poor peripheral vision. My mom says I’ve always had my head in the clouds.”

  “I’m glad there’s nothing worse to it.” His brows lowered, and smile lines creased his temples. “What’ll you have? Seafood, Italian, French, and don’t say steak. I can cook a steak better than you can get at a restaurant, so we can grill another night.”

  Another night? Someone was getting a little ahead of himself. “I like everything. But, Seth—?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I haven’t been out with a man alone since...my...divorce.” How she loathed that word and the heart-crushing abandonment it ripped open. “It’s been a while, but still—”

  “Same here. With a woman, in my case.” The anguish in the press of his lips pierced her reluctance.

  “How long for you?” She swallowed past the thickness in her throat. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Three years.”

  “Oh.” Maybe he understood. They might be able to offer each other some small encouragement. Like two passengers on a sinking ship. “Well, let’s go eat.”

  “Let’s.” He offered his elbow, and she took it.

  “Oh, wait.” She glanced down at herself and let go of him. “I’m a mess. Is it safe to take a quick shower here?”

  “It’ll be fine. If not, just holler like you did earlier today. I’ll hear you next door.”

  A laugh burst through her lips. “Will do. But my little shriek was nothing compared to the racket your saw made.” She took a step away but stopped. “Are you staying next door while you remodel for the owners?”

  One side of his mouth kicked up. “Something like that. I’ll meet you here in...what? Thirty minutes?”

  “I’ll see you then.” Thirty minutes to shower and change. She better hurry. Her bags still lay unopened.

  “And Grace.”

  “Yes.” She turned to find him giving her a pointed—and slightly smoldering—stare.

  “Be careful.”

  Easier said than done, in more ways than one.

  Heart thumping and cheeks burning, she trashed her devious flip-flops with the rest of the bags of refuse. She’d buy another pair in town or go barefoot to the beach. But what clothes would she wear to dinner? She hadn’t packed for a date. Not that this was a date. Or was it? Didn’t matter. The outfits she’d brought for church were the nicest clothes in her bag, but even so, Brooklyn had said the congregation wore casual attire—jeans and a nice blouse. That would have to do. Her riding boots worked better than dress sandals for this season of the year, despite the warm weather. She laid out her favorite red shirt she’d fou
nd on sale at Nordstrom Rack, added her skinny jeans, and headed into the master bath.

  Before undressing, she cautiously turned the faucet in the shower and held her breath. Perhaps she should make a quick patrol around the house to be sure there was no Niagara Falls action going on. After shutting the shower door, she tiptoed downstairs and surveyed the damaged kitchen. Oh, that hole in the ceiling was ugly. A long, silent moment passed with no geysers, volcanoes, or waterspouts. Not even a drip. She continued her tour of duty through all the rooms until she was sure the plumbing was secure. Finally, she returned to the bathroom, undressed, and let the hot water stream over her, washing away the muck and the stress of the day. Thank the Lord for clean, hot water. The little things she took for granted that were such blessings.

  Her thoughts returned to the impending dinner. Now that Trevor had married, she felt like she could try dating. When she was honest with herself, she’d gotten over the lost romantic love. What haunted her were the betrayals and feelings of inadequacy, the un-choosing that had done an unravelling of her heart. The abandonment by those she’d trusted. The sting of going from being a couple to ordering take-out for one.

  Dinner with a nice man could be a good thing. A first step toward building a new life. Not that anything serious would come of tonight other than food and conversation, but now was as good a time as any, and Santa Rosa as good a place as any, to start rebuilding her confidence.

  SETH STARED AT HIMSELF in the mirror and buttoned his collared shirt. What had he been thinking? Cooking food for a neighbor was one thing. Taking an attractive, single woman to a popular restaurant was a whole other set of nuts and bolts. He mostly ate his meals at home for a reason. In town, families would be out and about, and he never knew when grief would sink its jagged talons into his heart and crush his mood. Or worse.