Only You

by Deborah Grace Stanley

  A lazy smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and a mischievous light danced in his clear, blue eyes. “Miss Estelee would say it’s them angels workin’ their magic.”

  The man was strikingly beautiful. For a moment, Josie forgot to breathe.

  Cole moved forward and touched her arm with a gentle hand. “You all right, Dr. Allen?”

  She blinked. She hadn’t been this tongue-tied in—well, she couldn’t ever recall being speechless in the presence of a man. This was just Cole Craig of the blue collar Craigs who lived at the back of the ridge. If anyone were to be tongue-tied, she should think it would be him. After all, she had three degrees and he hadn’t even finished high school. But that aside, his touch sent shivers up her arm, leaving behind a delicious warmth.

  “Dr. Allen?”

  Josie took a step back. She must get hold of herself. Her behavior was perfectly ridiculous. “I’m sorry, Cole. It’s been a long morning. So far, anything that could go wrong has.”

  He frowned. “Sorry to hear that.”

  From his expression and tone, she could see that he truly was sorry that she was having a bad day. She shrugged and said, “Happens to everyone from time to time. Were you able to repair the pipe?”

  He wiped his hands with a red rag and nodded. “Pretty much did everything I could out here, but I’d like to have a look inside.”

  “Certainly,” she replied, and then led him to the back door. She pulled her keys from her purse and inserted the correct one into the lock. After several tries with the old skeleton key, the tumblers finally turned. When she pushed the door open, a gush of water rushed out onto the back porch, splashing across her new leather flats. “Oh no!”

  Cole grasped her arm and pulled her out of the way of the stream of water running past them, then looked around her into the house. He assessed the situation, removed his work boots and socks, and preceded her into the kitchen. Though dread pulled at her, Josie slipped off her soaked shoes and followed him.

  “Well, it’s not too bad. Could’ve been much worse,” he said. “Looks like most of the leak was confined to the kitchen area. This won’t take long to clean up.” He turned to her and said, “You just go on back to work and leave everything to me.”

  There was something very intimate about seeing a gorgeous man in well-worn, threadbare jeans and a form fitting t-shirt standing in the middle of her kitchen barefoot. Again, Josie had difficulty forming a coherent sentence for reply.

  This must stop.

  She cleared her throat and focused on the fruit bowl sitting on her kitchen island. “Cole, you’ve already done more than any reasonable person would expect.”

  “Just bein’ neighborly.”

  That aside, she didn’t want to further inconvenience him. “Cole, I appreciate all that you’ve done, but—”

  “What are you afraid of, Dr. Allen?” His easy smile disintegrated into a flat, hard line. “Think I’ll steal your valuables?”

  “No, of course not!” She was appalled that he’d even think such a thing. She was not prejudiced. She’d grown up watching how people up on the ridge treated everyone who lived on the back side of the ridge like they were beneath them. She’d hated that.

  But even as she thought it, she reminded herself that she’d been thinking all morning how much more educated she was than Cole. Her thoughts must have shown through. Ashamed, she didn’t like herself very much at the moment. This man deserved nothing less than her respect, and she intended to prove that to him.

  “Cole, I realize that up until this point, I’ve done nothing to indicate that I am not at all like some of the people who live up here. I genuinely do appreciate what you’ve done for me today, but I wouldn’t think to impose on you to clean up this mess. I’m sure you have other things to accomplish today.”

  He looked away and swallowed what Josie hoped was his irritation with her. Or should she say “her kind?”

  When he turned back to her, he said, “I just wanted to help out. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Josie looked into his eyes, and her heart tightened at what she saw. This proud man had spent his entire life helping people. She remembered him showing kindness to her on more than one occasion. But she, like the majority of the people up here, had not treated him as an equal. Josie Allen would no longer be counted among them.

  She extended her hand to Cole and said, “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”

  Without hesitation, he took her hand, which had never worked on anything harder than a computer keyboard, and engulfed it with his, that had known nothing but physical labor from the time he was a boy. At that moment, she felt the tenuous thread of an unlikely friendship form.

  “I’ll lock up when I leave,” he softly promised, still holding her hand in his.

  Josie nodded and pulled her tingling hand back, then delved into her purse to cover her reaction. “Let me write you a check.”

  Shaking his head, he clasped her forearm and pulled her hand out of her bag. “Consider it a welcome home gift.”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t—”

  He laid a finger against her lips. She blinked, startled by such intimacy, yet intrigued at such openness. He slowly trailed the tip of his finger along the curve of her lip before easing his hands into his pockets. She pressed a hand to her chest, more to make sure her heart didn’t race right out of it than anything else.

  “Course you can. I insist.”

  Josie smiled. Everyone knew there was no arguing with a Craig when they refused compensation. She’d just have to think of another way to repay him.

  *

  Josie Lee Allen.

  Cole watched her walk barefoot down the sidewalk in front of her house carrying her wet shoes as she headed back to town. She’d been pretty as a picture when she was a little girl. Her mama had sent her to school in those frilly dresses with ruffled petticoats and curled her golden red hair into ringlets that fell clear down to her waist. She’d gone through an awkward stage in middle and high school, but she’d come through it real nice.

  He sat down on her front steps and gave the memories free rein. Growing up, he was sure she’d been given everything a little girl could ever dream of. She should have been happy, but she’d always seemed more suited to the company of her books than people. He remembered staring at her as she read, wondering what she found so fascinating in those boring books. So fascinating that she never even gave him, or anyone else, a second glance.

  Now that little girl had grown into a woman so beautiful just looking at her made him ache. Even with her hair wrapped up in a tight knot at the back of her head and wearing a shapeless suit, when he’d stood close to her, it had been all he could do to keep his hands to himself.

  Josie Lee Allen. God had been smiling down on him today when he’d found that leaky pipe under her house. He’d been looking for an excuse to speak to her since he’d seen her sitting on the park bench under the old oak tree in Town Square a week ago. She’d been eating an apple and reading a book. The scene rocketed him back about ten years.

  He’d been painting the gazebo that stood in the middle of town. She’d been sitting on that same park bench reading. He kept stealing glances at her, wondering what she was reading. She’d worn that gorgeous red hair in a ponytail back then. Her drab sweatshirt and long skirt weren’t becoming, but there was something about her that intrigued him.

  About that time, some preppy rich boys who’d been tossing a football around called out, “Hey Coal Bucket, I think you have more paint on you than that wood.”

  Cole ignored them, even when they said something about him being dumb as a coal bucket. Real original. But when they turned their attention to Josie, that was another matter. He put down his paint brush when they called her curly red hair a rat’s nest.

  “She’s got mice livin’ in there.”

  “Yeah. They’re her pets. Wonder what their names are?”

  “Leave her alone,” Cole warned.

  “What are you goin
g to do about it?” one of the boys asked.

  Cole took one menacing step toward them, and they ran like he’d figured. The surprise came when Josie stretched out a leg and sent one of them sprawling face first into the brown mud.

  “Now who looks like a coal bucket,” she commented with an innocent smile.

  He’d known right then and there—Josie Allen was a mystery he wanted to solve.

  Still wanted to solve. Which was why he’d cleared his busy schedule and made sure he could be in town for the next couple of weeks, hoping to find an opportunity to talk to her. He’d seen her out a couple of times in the past week, but she’d always been in a hurry with her mind too focused on other things to notice him. Not much had changed there.

  He’d even gone into the library to check out a few books hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but her office was way in the back of the huge old building, and she hardly ever came out of it. In fact, from what he could tell, she practically lived there. By the time he got to Miss Estelee’s on Monday and Thursday mornings to mow or take care of whatever needed tendin’, Josie was already gone. Most nights, when he drove by the library on his way home, all the lights would be out except for the one on the ground floor in the back of the building that had to be her office.

  Sighing, Cole stood and sauntered around Josie’s house to the back door and into the soggy kitchen. He found a mop in the pantry and got to work.

  Yep, Miss Estelee’s angels had finally smiled down on him today, because she’d seen him. Really seen him.

  Standing here in the kitchen of her fancy house on the ridge, she’d looked into his eyes. She hadn’t looked down her nose at him like most folks up here did either. She’d shown him respect. And dare he hope? Something more. Maybe friendship.

  That wasn’t anywhere near what he had in mind, but it was a start.

  Chapter Two

  “Josephine! There you are.”

  Josie looked up from her work to find an exasperated Martin McKay hurrying into her office. Her secretary, Teresa, stood in the doorway shaking her head in apology.

  Josie waved her away and said, “Hello, Martin.”

  The diminutive man walked around her desk, took her hands, and kissed both her cheeks with affected charm. She tried not to wince. The kiss left a disgusting moistness on her face she longed to wipe away.

  Martin, who had an MBA from Harvard—and made sure everyone knew it—had recently taken over running the bank from his father. The McKays had owned the bank and endowed the library for more than a century. They’d also financed her graduate education. A decision she’d already lived to regret.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Josie pulled her hands from his and removed her glasses. “I’ve been right here all day.” She didn’t know where else he’d expect her to be during business hours. But that was Martin. His head was so filled with learning, there seemed little room for the practical.

  “I’ve managed to secure box seats at the opera this weekend. The Knoxville Opera Company will be performing Aïda. We have so little opportunity to partake of the fine arts in our little hamlet, I knew you’d be dying for a bit of culture.”

  Somewhere in that dissertation, Josie felt certain, there lurked an invitation. She’d been to dinner with Martin once since she’d returned to Angel Ridge. A long, tedious affair filled with endless information centering on the McKays and Martin. A long drive into Knoxville, which would surely include another of these dinners, and then the performance, and the return drive? She wasn’t sure she could endure it.

  “It sounds wonderful, Martin, but I have so much work to do before I can get my new electronic cataloging system up and running. You know I’m expected to have it and the new website operational by the town’s Memorial Day celebration in two weeks.”

  “Yes, yes. Mother told me. She’s all a-twitter over our little country library having the most sophisticated cataloging system in the nation.”

  “It will be quite a coup, thanks to your family’s generosity, of course.”

  Martin frowned and screwed up his mouth in a very unappealing manner. Being an only child, he’d never become accustomed to the negative response. “You simply must come, Josephine. Who else would go with me on such short notice? You’re practically the only suitable person in town for me to invite.”

  Suitable. How charming. And he knows I can’t turn him down. Of course, only persons of “suitable” social status would be afforded an invitation by the only son and heir of Angel Ridge’s most prominent—and affluent—family.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Martin,” Josie lied, “but I’m afraid I must give this cataloging program my complete attention. Memorial Day is only a few weeks away, and I simply can’t disappoint your mother.” She wasn’t about to tip him off that the program was not working properly.

  “No, of course you can’t,” he whined. “Why don’t you hire someone to help you?”

  “I’m afraid there are no funds for that, at present.” She’d begged the board for new computers. They’d felt the extravagant purchase unnecessary since they’d just installed new computers less than ten years ago. Arguing had proved to be a wasted effort. “It will be quicker this way, since this is my program. You know, I created it as part of my doctoral dissertation—”

  “What shall I do,” he interrupted, “if you do not consent to accompany me?”

  “Why don’t you offer the tickets to your parents? I’m sure they’d enjoy an evening at the opera.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Poor fellow. He looked like he’d dropped his ice cream in the dirt. She couldn’t help smiling at the image. His mother had probably never allowed him something as simple as an ice cream from a street vendor. “I am sorry, Martin.” And she was. Sorry that he was so spoiled. Sorry that he’d been so isolated as a child by his family that he had no friends. Had no idea how to relate to “common” people.

  Isolation seemed the one thing that she and Martin shared. She’d always preferred her books to relationships. For an only child, they were pure entertainment. They made no demands. Had no expectations and did not disappoint. The worlds she read about were always places where she’d fit in.

  “Well,” Martin waved his hand at Josie’s computer, “if you get the bugs worked out of that thing before week’s end, let me know.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  After Martin left, Josie grabbed a tissue and scrubbed her cheeks. She rested her head back against her chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. How she longed for a break. But the town’s expectations weighed on her—had weighed on her most of her life.

  She’d heard it often enough in school. Her teachers had singled her out. Separated her from her peers. So intelligent, so gifted. Her mother had always told her, “To whom much is given, much is expected.” Everyone in Angel Ridge seemed to demand better than her best. And now their demands focused on her responsibilities toward their prestigious library.

  Sitting at the end of Main, it was an enormous, three-story brick structure built in the style of a medieval castle. Like a castle, it had always been a magical place for Josie.

  Now, she saw the library as an adult who’d spent the last seven years of her life learning to run a library. She saw things in a more realistic light. Maybe too realistic. The library was big because the McKays didn’t do anything on a small scale. It was also big out of necessity. The library was more than just a place to check out books and do research. It housed special collections of the Tennessee presidents’ papers and artifacts, Tennessee historical documents and maps, the largest genealogical collection in the state. It even boasted an art gallery that included the McKay Collection as well as traveling exhibits.

  Since she’d taken over, things hadn’t turned out at all like she’d planned. Mrs. McKay had been on her back non-stop. Martin was bent on pursuing her. The program wasn’t working. Nothing was going right.

  Josie pinched the bridge of her nose. She was so tired. She’d co
me home and taken this job with hardly a break anywhere along the way. Now, still more was expected of her. She had to make operational the most innovative cataloging system in the industry.

  No problem. She could do it. She must do it. It was expected.

  But she’d give anything for a few hours in the company of a person who had no preconceived notions of Josephine Allen. Her books held no expectations, no lofty aspirations. They didn’t care how she looked or how she conducted herself—but what a lonely existence they provided.

  She was nearly twenty-six and had never had a real relationship. Dates. She wondered what normal dates were like. In high school, no one had asked her out. In college, she’d never had the time to date like the other girls. Making straight A’s required giving her studies her complete attention. But now that her studies were at an end—

  “Five o’clock, Dr. Allen. I’m outta here.”

  Josie turned to her secretary. “Thanks, Teresa. Would you please ask Mildred to shoo the people out of genealogy and lock up on her way out?”

  “Sure thing. You working late again?”

  “I’m afraid so. I have to iron out these problems with the program.”

  “Maybe you just need to get away from it for awhile. Get out, have some dinner, catch a movie. You know, do something mindless, then come back tomorrow with a new perspective.”

  Josie smiled. It always amazed her what conventional wisdom Teresa offered. She made it all seem so simple . . . and tempting. “Thanks, Teresa. You know, I just might do that.”

  Teresa smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

  But first, she had to try one more thing with the program . . . .

  *

  Josie heard something—or someone—tapping on the window of her office and nearly jumped out of her skin. She grabbed a letter opener and backed away from the window, edging around the corner of her desk to where the phone sat. Picking up the receiver, she started dialing 911.

  “Josie—it’s me, Cole.”