Matthew’s hearty laughter sounded behind her again, but she fought the jealousy rising within her and resisted turning around to look at him. Who’d have thought he’d be so helpful? And funny? A man who reads romance books . . . She pressed her lips together to hide her smile.
She rang the bell again, in case Christine didn’t hear it the first time. Matthew’s offer to help with her new story was tempting. But what if he didn’t like it? What if he told her the exact words she’d been dreading to hear, the very thing her mother had been pressing on her for months—that she wasn’t cut out to be an author?
No, better not take the chance to find out. Especially from Mr. Pompous Editor. Or is it Mr. Book-nerd Editor now? She shook her head. Either way, there was no way she could let him see her story.
Chapter Nine
Matthew stepped away from Rodger’s pickup truck, listening to his mother’s voice on the other end of the phone. She’d called during his break, right after he and Rodger had finished loading some old scrap metal and broken tools into the truck box.
“Your father had an interesting lunch with Don the other day . . .”
Anna came striding up the path from the inn, her arms loaded with cardboard coffee cups and a plastic container that probably contained some sort of sweet treat. Katie had called Rodger’s cell and said Sophie had snacks lined up for them, and Anna had gone to get them. Now, she approached Rodger and Violet, who had gathered around the truck, and handed them each a cup. Her cheeks were flushed pink in the cool weather, and her hair stuck out at odd angles beneath her knit hat.
How does she manage to make a down vest, work jeans, and messy hair look so good?
She’d been friendly to him all morning, helping him sweep out the last of the dust in the loft and chatting animatedly about books and movies. Their talk in the bookshop yesterday seemed to have melted her icy exterior. He’d enjoyed working next to her, captivated by her quick wit and heartfelt explanation of her book characters’ romantic sub-plot.
His mother continued, “. . . and he really thinks it would be a good opportunity for you . . .”
Anna set the plastic container on the lowered tailgate, then laughed at something Rodger said. Matthew gazed at her, admiring the curve of her lips and the way the tips of her hair barely brushed her slim shoulders when she lifted her chin—
Paula’s voice grounded him back to his phone. “What do you think? We’re having dinner with him tomorrow night at Hunters’ Steakhouse,” she said. “If you’d like to join us, we could introduce you. See if you’d be a good fit.”
Matthew turned to concentrate on the conversation. “Er—sorry. Dinner with who?”
Paula let out an exasperated sigh. “Don Willingham. The manager of the public library.”
“Um, okay—”
“Were you listening to me at all, dear? He has an opening for a librarian position.”
A librarian job? Why would she think I’d be interested in that? He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. “Thanks Mom, but that’s not really what I’m looking for. Besides, I have plans tomorrow night.”
“Well, it would be a proper job, at least.” She paused. “You have plans? What kind of plans?”
“Just a book club thing with a friend,” he replied. With the way things had been going, he could call Anna a friend, right?
As if on cue, Anna laughed again and he twisted toward her. She caught his eye, then held up a coffee cup and pointed at it, signaling it was for him. His chest warmed, and he gave her a wave of acknowledgement.
“Look Mom, I have to go. But I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Alright,” Paula relented. “But if you change your mind about tomorrow—”
“I won’t. But we can chat this weekend about what kind of job I’m qualified for, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Oh, and I have an old water trough here for you to haul to the inn next week. I think it’d make a nice planter to put next to the barn door.”
“Sounds good. We’ll load it into Marshal’s truck after Sunday dinner.”
They said goodbye, and he tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and made his way to the group at the truck.
Anna handed him a coffee, then jerked her elbow in the direction of the plastic container on the tailgate. Violet stood in front of it, appraising the contents, and Anna grinned. “Sophie’s pumpkin muffins with cream cheese icing. You better grab one before Violet clears them out.”
Matthew chuckled and took the cup from her. “Coffee’s fine for now. I’ll let Violet have her pick of the sweets first.”
Violet darted her gaze to Anna and cocked her head. “Hey, I’m a growing teen. I need calories.”
Rodger gestured toward the barn. “Yep, you better load up for the job I’ve got for you next. You’ll need the energy.”
Her face fell and she gave him a wary look. “Does it have anything to do with scraping ancient manure again?”
“Not this time,” Rodger replied. “There’s a couple old saddles and other odds and ends in the back room that were left there years ago. I don’t know what shape they’re in, but if you haul them to the stable and clean them up, we can see if one might be suitable for that new horse of yours.”
Violet’s eyes lit up. She grabbed a muffin, then practically skipped to Rodger’s side. “Deal!”
“A new horse?” Anna asked, her eyes almost as bright as Violet’s. “That’s exciting, Violet!”
“Thanks,” she replied, beaming. “I joined the 4-H horse club. Dusty’s a buckskin—the prettiest horse I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to show him off to my friends!”
Matthew took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “You’re one lucky kid. Madison begged our parents for a horse when she was your age. That was one thing Dad refused to indulge her in.”
Rodger took a big swig from his cup, then tossed it into box of the truck. “Alright, kiddo. Shall we go check out those saddles?”
“Yes!”
“You two finish up your coffees before heading in,” Rodger said. “All that old twine in the loft needs to come out next.”
“Sounds good,” Matthew replied, tipping his cup toward them. With a wave, they were off, Violet leading the way with an excited bounce in her step.
Before he could turn to Anna to thank her for retrieving the treats, Matthew’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out, and a text from his mom blinked on the screen.
Here’s Don’s email address, in case you change your mind and would like to send him your resume.
Matthew bit back a sigh and shook his head, then jammed his phone in his pocket.
“Somebody pestering you?” Anna leaned her hip on the side of the truck, cradling her coffee with both hands.
Matthew snorted. “Sort of. How could you tell?”
She shrugged. “The scowl on your face gave it away.”
“That obvious, huh?” He shook his head. “It was just my mom, trying to set me up with a librarian job.”
Anna furrowed her brows and pushed her glasses up her nose. “A librarian job?”
“Yeah. Not exactly in my wheelhouse,” he replied. “She doesn’t really understand the book industry.”
Anna gave him an understanding nod. “Neither does my family. If you don’t mind me asking, what are your career plans now that Raven Stone’s gone under?”
“I’m not sure.” Matthew sipped his coffee, taking in the bitter flavour. “I don’t want to move far away again for an in-house job. I’ve been trying to scrounge up some freelancing gigs, but it’s not going well. I don’t how to find clients.”
“Surely you have some contacts who could help you out?”
He shook his head. “Most of my university buddies work for media outlets or big-name publishers.”
“What about your past clients through Raven Stone?”
He shifted self-consciously under her pretty gaze. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, or if I’m even allowed to contact the
m.”
“I don’t see why not. The company doesn’t even exist anymore, there shouldn’t be any conflicts,” Anna replied. “I’m in touch with a few of the other authors who lost their contracts. Some are considering self-publishing, and others are shopping their manuscripts around again. Either way, I bet a few of them would be interested in paying for some editing.”
Matthew raised his brows. “And how do you think they’d respond to me, the editor who cut their contracts? The same way you did at first?”
She giggled and gave him a sideways look, causing his chest to tighten. “I could vouch for you and pass your website along to them. That way, it’d be coming from somebody they trust.”
Matthew rubbed his chin with his free hand, mulling over her words. She had a point. It would be a good way to kick start his business, and he could give past Raven Stone authors a discount as an olive branch. He could help them get their books back on track while getting his freelance business rolling at the same time.
“That’s a really good idea. Thank you. The only thing is, my website is a mess. Why don’t I fix it first? Then I’ll send it your way.”
Anna gestured with her cup in a cheers motion. “That sounds good. Let me know when it’s ready.”
Matthew raised his cup to hers, and their fingers brushed for a second, sending a tingle through his hand. He lowered it, taking in the way she darted her gaze from him and tugged at the zipper of her vest with her dainty fingers. He wondered what it would feel like to hold her hand—
“So, are we still on for the book club meeting tomorrow at seven?” she asked.
He blinked, suddenly remembering their date tomorrow. Or was it date? Should he ask her if it was? No! I have to stop acting like an awkward teenager. “Umm, yeah. Sure. I’ll meet you there.” He paused, trying to ground himself. “Looking forward to it, and I’m ready to battle for my choice of Christmas book.”
Anna giggled, then tossed her empty cup into the box of Rodger’s truck with the rest of the garbage destined for the dump. “Well, I guess we should get back to it. What did Rodger say earlier? That barn isn’t going to clean itself?”
“Something like that,” Matthew agreed. He drank his last mouthful of coffee while she put the lid on the plastic container and set it inside the truck cab, then they started toward the entrance of the barn.
Who would have thought an ex-author from Raven Stone would be willing to suggest my editing services to her peers? They reached the doorway, and he hesitated and touched her elbow. “Hey, Anna?”
“Yes?”
“Have you thought any more about having me look at your new manuscript?” he asked. “I could do an assessment of your fairy book too, if you’re interested. Free of charge, of course.”
Anna chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I feel guilty taking advantage of you. I know how much work editing is, and it isn’t cheap.”
“You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me,” he replied. “If it would make you feel better, you could write me a testimonial to use for my website. If you like my work, that is.” He hesitated. “No pressure, though. I only want to help.”
“I’ll think about.”
“Alright. Let’s go tackle that loft.” He grabbed the rusty handle, then slid open the barn door.
“Thanks.” She dipped her head, then stepped inside.
Matthew gazed after her, a hint of worry forming in the back of his head. This girl. He’d only meant to smooth things out between them. To make her not hate him anymore, and to help her with her writing. But the ache that formed inside him every time he saw her . . . He shrugged it off and closed the door behind him. We’re both adults. It’s not as if anything more than friendship has happened between us.
And nothing more would. Right?
Chapter Ten
Matthew took a step back and admired the greenhouse wall before him. The polycarbonate sheets were solidly in place, and after finishing the south-facing wall, all they had left was to build the raised beds Marshal had plotted out. Well, that and have the electrician come out and wire everything in. But with sun in the forecast, things were looking up for Marshal. Matthew thought of all the spindly seedlings sitting in Marshal’s living room under grow lights. Maybe we’ll get them moved in here yet.
The setting sun cast a warm glow through the translucent walls. Matthew glanced at his watch, then gave the sealant gun in his hand a slight toss, satisfied with his work. See? I’m no Marshal, but I’m not completely useless at this stuff.
Now, he had to head to the house and get ready for the book club meeting at Christine’s shop. He’d been looking forward to it all day, thinking about the other afternoon at the shop with Anna—when he’d finally thawed her ice queen demeanor. And since then, they’d only been growing closer at work. With her quirky humour and the passionate way she explained the different types of fae creatures in her book, she’d made the mornings filled with scraping grime from the barn floors, cleaning moldy hay from the loft, and pressure washing the walls downright enjoyable.
He’d been thinking about her so much that even Marshal had teased him about having his head in the clouds the evening before. They’d been playing Fallout, and Matthew had zoned out and allowed a ghoul to walk right into their compound.
And he wasn’t even that sorry about it. Thoughts of Anna’s deep brown eyes and musical laughter were a lot nicer than the dystopian nightmare of his and Marshal’s video game. Now, he couldn’t wait to see her outside of work. In her element, the book store.
He made his way outside to Marshal’s truck, which was parked next to the structure. More polycarbonate sheets lay stacked in the back with their ends hanging over the lowered tailgate. Marshal stood next to the sheets with a pencil in mouth, going over the blueprint spread out on top of the pile.
He looked up at Matthew’s approach and took the pencil from between his teeth. “Hey, got that wall finished?”
“You bet.” Matthew opened the passenger door and placed the sealant gun in the box of supplies on the passenger seat. “I got the panels taped and sealed. Even if it rains tonight, they should be fine.”
“Huh. Good work. Guess you have a little handyman in you after all.” Marshal pointed the pencil in his direction. “The forecast looks okay for a few days. Let’s try to get the rest of these up this weekend before the rain hits again.”
“Sure thing.” Matthew reached across the box to the cooler sitting next to it and grabbed a bottle of water. “We’re moving faster than expected at the inn, so Rodger told us to take the weekend off there anyways.” He held up the bottle. “Want one?”
“Sure, thanks.” Marshal tucked the pencil in the front pocket of his flannel shirt, making Matthew grin. He reminded Matthew of their old man, not only in looks but in mannerisms too. Bill always had a pen or pencil sticking out of his front pocket, whether at his clinic or working on a project around home.
Matthew grabbed a second bottle, then slammed the lid of the cooler shut. He wandered over to Marshal and handed him the water.
Marshal took it and untwisted the lid. “What are you doing for supper tonight? Me and Soph are going to catch a bite at Last Call with Dylan and Madi. Do you want to come?”
“And be the fifth wheel?” Matthew leaned his elbows on the truck box and shook his head. “Nah. Besides, I have a book club meeting tonight at seven.”
Marshal squinted at him over the bottle as he took a drink. “A book club meeting? At Christine’s?”
Matthew nodded. “Yeah. I went in there the other day after I brought Mom to the hospital. The clerk, I think her name’s Laura, invited me.”
“Ah, a girl. I figured there was more to it than books,” Marshal replied. “There’s no way I could sit in that store all night with those clucking hens.”
Matthew raised his brows. “Clucking hens?”
“They’ll be fighting over beach romances or those mysteries about old ladies who like to knit and have ten cats,” Marshal said with a grin. “Or C
hristine will have you reading some book on mystical aliens.”
“You sure know a lot about cozy mysteries,” Matthew replied. “Got some Agatha Christie novels hiding around the house?”
“No, but I can talk to Sophie if you’re looking.”
Matthew chuckled and took a drink of his water. “Well, it can’t be that bad. I miss being around people who love books. And Anna’s going—”
“Anna?” Marshal cocked his head. “Sophie’s assistant from the inn? She mentioned you two were both messed over by Raven Stone. Are you two—nah. Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“You’re right. It’s not. But no, we’re just friends.” Matthew averted his gaze. “Hey, have you talked to Mom?”
“Yeah.” Marshal wandered to the driver’s side of the truck and opened the door, then tossed his now-empty water bottle into the garbage bag behind the seat. “You know her, she’s tough. I’m sure she’s driving Dad crazy, galloping around the house on those crutches with her sprained ankle. She seemed pretty excited about those milk cans.”
Matthew bobbed his head. He’d meant to give her a call. But after her meddling about job prospects, he’d been hesitant to open that can of worms again.
Marshal cleared this throat. “She’s worried about you, you know.”
“I know.”
Marshal closed the truck door, then caught Matthew’s eye. “She only wants the family closer together. She was sad when you moved to Toronto, and when Madison—well, you know. When that scumbag ex-husband of hers got between her and the family.”
Matthew grimaced. “I’m trying, Marsh. I’ve been going to family suppers and making a point to be around now that I’m home.”
Marshal nodded and walked around the truck to join his side. “I know. I think she’s scared you’re going to get a new job in New York or something like that. It was just Mom, Dad, and me around here for years. She’s happy to have all her kids home again.”
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