“Saving the best for last,” Brock whispered to Brenna as they walked around the space that would become her kitchen.
Brenna blushed and ducked her head. Butterflies swirled around in her stomach at Brock’s warm breath near her ear. Everything about the man made her feel languid and befuddled. The jury still out on whether that was a good or bad thing.
“I promised a friend I’d meet her in Portland at eleven so I’ve got to run,” Avery said, kissing her mother’s cheek and shaking Brock’s hand. “I can see our future business spaces are in good hands with you, Brock. I look forward to working with you.”
“Thank you.” Brock raised a hand in farewell as Avery hurried out the door.
“Brenna, why don’t you show Brock the space out back we were thinking about for patio seating? I have a few things I need to do before my Saturday crowd starts arriving,” Letty said, disappearing into her office.
Brenna looked at Brock and saw lines of amusement crinkling around his eyes.
“Shall we?” he asked, pointing toward the back of the store. A large door opened up to a terraced area featuring elaborate landscaping to the edge of Silver Creek where it ran through the backyard.
“We thought if we could enlarge this area,” Brenna said, pointing around a bricked patio. “We could offer some seating out here during the summer months.”
“Wow! I had no idea. This is beautiful.” Brock looked around the calm, green oasis. He could see people flocking in droves to experience dining on this particular patio. Recalling what Greg did for a living, he grinned. “Let me guess, this is some of Greg’s handiwork.”
“Right you are.” Brenna smiled. There were many benefits to having a landscaper in the family.
“He did an amazing job.” Brock studied not only the variety of plants, but also the way they were grouped to create the most visual impact. “The patio area shouldn’t be a problem at all.”
“Great.” Brenna nervously shoved her hands into the pockets of her dress as they walked back inside. They returned to their seats at the oak table and Brenna offered Brock another cup of coffee.
“Anything else we need to discuss before we start work?” he asked, tapping notes into his electronic tablet.
“No. I think we covered everything.” Everything except where Brock had been for the last two weeks and why he hadn’t been in the coffee shop.
“Okay, then, coffee girl, I’ll plan to be here as soon as we’ve got all the permits. I’m anxious to get started on this project.” Brock rose to his feet and started toward the door. Before he could slip on his coat, Brenna put a hand to his arm, causing him to turn around and look at her.
“Mr. McCrae, I…” Tingles sizzled up her arm at the contact with Brock.
“Please, call me Brock. Mr. McCrae is too formal for friends, don’t you think?” Brock placed a hand on Brenna’s where it rested on his arm. Fire shot through his hand and seared its way to his heart, but he ignored it.
He was too intently focused on watching the light from the window dance through Brenna’s golden curls and counting the freckles on her nose.
“Brock,” Brenna said, liking the sound of the name as it rolled off her lips. She also noticed the man looked as good as he smelled this morning with his unbuttoned flannel shirt and Henley. Work boots made him appear taller than he was and she definitely wasn’t imagining the outline of hard muscles in his thighs, visible in his well-fitting jeans. “I wanted to thank you again for coming to my rescue a couple of weeks ago. You really did save the day.”
“That’s just one of my talents, changing a tire in the rain at night on the freeway,” Brock teased, turning so he could take both of Brenna’s hands in his. “I suppose I should apologize for kissing you that night, only I can’t because I’m not a bit sorry.”
Brenna’s head shot up and he offered her a wicked grin. “I really enjoyed having dinner with you, Brenna, and I’d like to do it again. Maybe something that could be considered an official date, if that would be okay with you?” Brock asked, wanting more than anything for Brenna to say yes.
She nodded her head in agreement. “I’d like that very much, but on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Brock gave her a wary glance. From experience, this was the point where the females he knew threw out demands that would be both annoying and expensive.
“You tell me why you’ve avoided the coffee shop the last few weeks. It doesn’t seem like you would willingly miss your morning cup of java and I hope it wasn’t me that kept you away.”
Brock looked at her in surprise. If he’d known a way to get in touch with Brenna, he would have. Since he had no idea what her name was, where she lived or worked, he hoped to run into her at the coffee shop and explain what had happened. He worried that she would get the wrong idea from his absence. Obviously, she had.
Motioning her to a couch Letty had on display near the door, Brenna nodded and they sat down. Brock waited until she settled against the cushions then leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
“I was driving to work the morning after I helped you with your flat when my mom called to let me know my grandfather was in the hospital. It didn’t look good, so I turned around, packed a bag and headed to Seattle where my grandfather lives. My grandmother passed away several years ago and my dad’s parents were gone before I was born,” Brock explained. “Granddad was in pretty bad shape. He suffered a stroke and fell down a flight of stairs at his home. No one knew for sure how long he was there at the bottom of the stairs before the housekeeper found him. Mom, Dad, and I took turns sitting with him in the hospital. Granddad was ninety-two, so it’s not like he was too spry.”
“I’m so sorry, Brock.” Brenna placed her hand on his, gently patting it while offering him an encouraging look to continue his story.
“He rallied around long enough to act like he recognized us and we got to tell him goodbye before he passed away. We had his funeral last Saturday and then there were some loose ends to tie up with his estate before I came back to town. If I’d known any way of getting in touch with you, Brenna, I would have. I didn’t want you to think I’m the kind of guy to flirt with a girl, steal a kiss, and disappear.”
Brenna couldn’t look him in the eye because that was exactly what she thought. Either that, or he was terrified of crazy women with pencils stuck in their hair.
“Short of calling the coffee shop and asking them to give the pretty little blonde nicknamed coffee girl a message, I didn’t know what to do. I figured I’d catch up with you eventually since we both seem to stop there most weekdays. I returned home on Wednesday and ran in Thursday morning, but you weren’t there. I got tied up Friday and stopped in late, knowing I missed you.” Brock looked around the store. “I’m really glad your mom contacted me about this project. Now that I know your name and where to find you, Miss Brenna Smith, it won’t be quite so easy to get rid of me.”
“I’m glad to know where to find you as well,” Brenna said with a shy grin before taking on a solemn expression. “I’m so sorry about your grandfather, Brock. If there is anything we can do…”
“No, but I appreciate the offer.” Brock stood and extended his hand to Brenna. “I’ve taken enough of your time today, though. I will do my best to get your bistro open on time, coffee girl. If you feel the need, at any time, to bribe me with pastries and sweets, I wouldn’t object.”
Brenna laughed a smooth musical sound that resonated with Brock. He’d never heard any laugh that he enjoyed more.
“I’ll give that some consideration.” She grinned in a way that made her big eyes look even larger and bluer. “Thanks for coming by today, Brock. I look forward to seeing what you can do.”
“Great. Now that you know I didn’t kiss and run, how about agreeing to a date with me sometime?” Brock winked as he tugged on his coat. Although he attempted to maintain a calm façade, his heart pounded so fast and loud, he was sure Brenna would hear it. Not once in his extensive dating experience
had a girl ever made his stomach clench into knots or sweat trickle down his back like he’d stepped beneath a leaky faucet.
“That would be nice.” Brenna barely processed the fact the construction guy she’d been secretly admiring for weeks, okay — months, just asked her out on a date.
“Think about when would work for you and you can tell me at the coffee shop next week.” Brock settled his ball cap on his head and walked out the door with a friendly wave.
Brenna sagged against the doorframe and tried to collect her thoughts before cleaning up their breakfast dishes. She officially had a date with the cute construction guy.
Letty fluttered out of her office wearing a knowing smile. “Honey, why didn’t you tell me Brock was the hero you’ve been pining after?”
“I’m not pining after anyone and I didn’t even know his name. He was just the construction guy from the coffee shop,” Brenna said hotly, with just enough denial and force that she confirmed what her mother already knew. She was more than a little infatuated with the man.
“I see.” Letty wisely refrained from making further comments while she and Brenna packed the dishes and leftovers from breakfast into Brenna’s car.
As she gathered the coffee pots, Brenna looked around the store. She could see it filled with customers enjoying her culinary creations. She could smell the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee and hear the customers chatting and connecting as they started their day.
She slipped an arm around her mom’s shoulders and gave her a hug that conveyed her gratitude. “Thanks again, Mom, for making this dream come true.”
“You are so welcome, honey,” Letty said, patting Brenna’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. “Once we’ve got the work dream in place I think we need to tackle the next dream.”
“Which one is that?” Brenna asked distractedly, lost in her vision of the bistro filled with happy people.
“The dream where one brawny construction worker captures your heart,” Letty teased, squeezing Brenna around her waist.
“Mother!”
“What? I’m right. A mother knows these things.”
Brenna scowled at her. “You will refrain from your matchmaking attempts while Brock is working here. Agreed?”
“But Brenna…”
“Agreed?” The firmness in her voice was completely out of character for Brenna and left Letty no room for argument.
“Fine. Be an old stick in the mud.” Letty straightened an already perfectly aligned painting on the wall. “Too bad he was tied up the night of your birthday party.”
“What?” Brenna spun around and glared at her mother like she had grown a second head.
“I invited him to your birthday party. I thought it would be a casual way for us to become acquainted with him. Unfortunately, he was just getting back into town after his grandfather’s funeral. What a nice young man,” Letty said, turning back toward her office. “I’m sure a good-looking boy like him with such nice manners won’t have a hard time finding someone to sweep off their feet.”
Brenna walked outside before her mom could see how much she wanted to be the one swept away by Brock.
Chapter Five
Brock stared up at the dilapidated-looking structure before him, unable to contain his grin.
The Craftsman style house, a sweet cottage, was officially his. After doing an inspection and having a couple of his buddies who knew about foundations, rot, and termites give it a once over, they agreed the house was solid, just in need of some major cosmetic work.
While the roof didn’t leak, it wouldn’t be long before it started. All the windows needed to be replaced, the wiring needed to be updated, and Brock planned to also have some plumbing work completed.
The remodeling projects he had in mind would be simple enough to do in his evenings while working on the project for the Smith women.
Whistling to himself as he gingerly stepped across the rotting boards outside the front door of his abode, Brock let his thoughts drift to Brenna Smith.
The past couple of mornings he ran into her at the coffee shop. She told him she planned to keep her job in Portland until the bistro neared completion. He thought it was a smart move on her part to put away as much cash as she could to get her business off the ground.
As he stood in what would soon be his living room, Brock looked around the airy space with a beautiful fireplace, hardwood floors, and great view of the yard as it led out to the street.
The location of the house on a dead-end street in a quiet neighborhood was unarguably a plus. Silver Creek ran across the back corner of the acre lot that was now his and Brock had visions of installing landscaping in that area. Definitely a fire pit.
He wondered if Brenna, with all her baking talents, liked something as simple as marshmallows toasted over an open fire.
Thanks to the funds he inherited from his grandfather, he was able to put a sizeable down payment on the place. He could have paid for it outright, but wanted to reserve some cash for the remodeling work he planned to do.
With the permits approved for his plans, he would get started tomorrow making the run-down house into a home.
He wandered through the wide doorway of the living room down the hall to the kitchen. Brock planned to remove the dining room wall and extend the one bedroom on the ground floor into a master suite, complete with a spacious bedroom and spa-like bathroom.
Beyond the living room, the ground floor included the dining room and bedroom, a laundry room, kitchen, and a small bathroom.
Beneath the main stairway, he’d found a handy storage closet. Off the kitchen, a set of stairs led down to a basement that, surprisingly, had been crudely finished. A concrete floor and sheet rocked walls were more than he expected to find since so many of the old houses still had dirt floors and unfinished walls. The big open space would be great for storage as well as a place to keep his weight equipment.
On the second floor, there were three more bedrooms and another bathroom. The house was far too big for Brock by himself, but something about it spoke to him.
In a dream that continued to haunt him, he could see himself in the yard of this very house with a dog bounding around his feet. He’d lean over and place his hand on the rounded belly of his pregnant wife. The feeling of contentment and love that would wash over him was almost more than he could comprehend. He would raise his eyes to see his wife’s face and that was when he would wake up from the dream with a sense of loss and frustration. Just once, he wanted to see her face, even catch a glimpse of the color of her hair.
Brock had been having the dream for years, but since he bought the house, it happened more and more frequently. In his dream, the house was restored, the yard was landscaped and a feeling of loving welcome hung in the air.
He could smell fresh cut grass and the scent of roses blooming from the arbor he planned to repair across the front walk. He could also smell something light and fresh, like sunshine, along with the lingering hint of rich, dark coffee.
Shaking his head to clear his fanciful thoughts, Brock wanted to update enough of the house he could move in immediately. The one hour drive to and from Portland to his apartment each night would be better spent working on his home.
The ringing of his cell phone drew him out of his musings. He grinned when he saw the call was from his roommate and best friend, Mike.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” Brock stepped through the kitchen door into the backyard — or what was left of it. Although the grass was mostly alive, the plants were overgrown or dying.
“Just thought I’d check and see if we’re still on for tomorrow,” Mike said. Brock could hear the rev of an engine. Mike was most likely sitting on the freeway, trying to get through the evening traffic.
“Absolutely,” Brock said. “Are you sure you want to spend your Saturday helping me?”
“You know it, dude. I’ll be there before nine. You have plans for tonight?”
“I’m going to work on the porch so no one falls thro
ugh tomorrow. I’ll be late but I can still grab a pizza if you want.” Brock knew Mike would say yes. Since neither of them was dating anyone and they shared an apartment with Mike’s brother Levi, they sometimes hung out and watched movies on Friday nights.
“That would be great. See you when you get here.”
Brock had rounded up a group of friends and some of his construction crew who wanted to earn a little extra money on their day off to help him put a new roof on the house. Once that was completed, he felt like he could concentrate on the work going on inside.
After hefting a stack of precut boards out of his truck, he spent the evening repairing the steps leading up to the porch as well as the rotten boards on the porch running across the front of the house.
Darkness had settled when he returned his tools to his truck and left the rotten boards in a neat pile in a corner of the yard. He hoped the neighbors understood things would definitely look worse before they looked better.
There were only four other houses on his street and two of them belonged to little senior women who deemed themselves keepers of the peace in their section of the city. They stopped him yesterday when he came out to the house to measure the boards for the porch.
By the time they’d grilled him for a good fifteen minutes he decided they’d missed their calling as interrogators for the military. However, they did seem pacified at the end of the conversation that he wouldn’t bring “drugs and ruination” to their turf.
Yep. Life on Aspen Lane would be interesting, especially with every move he made under intense scrutiny from two nosy old women.
Brock swung by a donut shop on his way to the house the next morning and picked up two dozen doughnuts along with coffee for everyone.
He set up a card table in the living room, set the donuts and coffee there, and then called the local deli to place an order for sandwiches to be delivered at noon.
Satisfied his crew would be fed, he went outside to the construction trailer he parked close to the house and began unloading the supplies they would need. Cars and trucks began arriving. His friends converged on the doughnuts and coffee before climbing up to the roof where they started tearing off the old shingles.
The Coffee Girl Page 5