Worth the Trouble (St. James #2)

by Jamie Beck

  “Hey, Mom. Where are you going?”

  “Rick?” His mother scowled at him. She drew back while jabbing her finger in Cat’s direction. “Who?”

  Her brittle voice stopped him in his tracks. Helen had mentioned his mother’s more frequent angry outbursts. Of course they’d flare up now, in front of Cat.

  “It’s me, Mom. Hank.” He held his hands up slowly and backed up. “What do you need?”

  His mother clutched the fabric above her chest, still pointing at Cat. “Fssht!”

  “Mom,” Hank began, ignoring her inarticulate last word, then Cat interrupted.

  “Mrs. Mitchell, I’m Hank’s friend, Catalina.” She spoke in even, calm tones. Her smile didn’t falter, nor did she reveal any discomfort. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”

  Still, his mother’s eyes narrowed into a confused scowl. “Why . . . you?” She tangled one hand into her hair and shuffled toward the kitchen. In a softer voice, she mumbled something he didn’t understand.

  Hank winced, avoiding Cat’s gaze as he followed his mother, but Cat called to him.

  “Hank, I hear something,” she said. “Sounds like water.”

  He strained to listen while keeping an eye on his mother. The faint rush of water from an open faucet hissed from the master bedroom. “Can you check her bathroom? I’d rather not leave you alone with her to go check myself.”

  Cat nodded before crossing the living room and disappearing into the master bedroom. Her unruffled response to the circumstances surprised Hank, proving how little he really knew about her—things he wanted to discover.

  His mother reached the kitchen, stopping at the table. She stared blankly at the refrigerator and released the fabric she’d been groping, which was now smudged with toothpaste. Her hands fell to her sides while he waited quietly.

  “Mom,” he whispered, his heart wrung out like a tattered dishrag. “It’s me, Hank.” He wet some paper towels with warm water and began wiping her hands to remove the toothpaste. “Are you hungry?”

  She turned as if startled to see him and picked at her clothes, shivering.

  “You’re cold? Let’s go change these pajamas and get you warmed up.”

  Like a child, she pushed her walker beside him as he led her back to her bedroom. Somewhere along the way she slipped into a trance. Once he helped her back into bed, he removed the pajamas and let her lie there in her housedress rather than risk upsetting her again. After pulling the covers up, he kissed her head.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose before going to her bathroom. Cat was kneeling on the vanity—shoes tossed aside—cleaning toothpaste off the mirror with a washcloth.

  She’d thrown a towel on the floor to sop up a puddle that had somehow ended up down there. Glamour girl didn’t even seem put out, perched up on the sink. Silently, he grabbed another washcloth and worked alongside her to clean up the mess.

  Dammit. After witnessing this little episode she’d surely bolt back to her fun, easy life. When they finished, he took the rag from her hand, picked up the soaked towel, and turned off the light. Cat quietly trailed behind him to the living room.

  “I’m sorry.” He threw the towels aside. “Not sure what to say except thanks for helping.”

  “Don’t apologize, Hank. I shouldn’t have just barged in on you tonight.” She groped her ponytail while the look in her eyes grew distant. “I remember watching my mother wither away, but cancer never robbed her of her memory. At least she always knew who I was. I can’t imagine losing that connection. I’m so sorry.”

  Cat’s dewy eyes and compassion didn’t feel anything like pity, and for that he was grateful.

  “It pretty much sucks,” he admitted.

  Cat stepped forward and squeezed his hand in comfort.

  He squeezed back, wishing he could tug her closer. “You probably want to get going now.”

  He smiled, hoping he didn’t look disappointed as he prepared for her polite good-bye. She cocked her head, biting her lip.

  “Actually, I’m starving. If you don’t mind company, let’s still order pizza.” She withdrew her hands and tucked her thumbs inside her pockets. “Maybe you could even show me where you build furniture.”

  Another curveball.

  She wanted to stay. Hope reached inside his chest and pumped his heart.

  “Okay. Pepperoni and mushroom sound good?”

  An hour later they’d finished an entire extra-large pizza. To be fair, he’d eaten ninety percent of it while she’d eaten a salad and one slice.

  Now she sat with one leg tucked up under her butt and her elbows on the table. Seeing her so relaxed reminded him of how she’d behaved at Jackson’s last year—the version of Cat St. James he liked best. He couldn’t help but wonder if anyone other than her family, Vivi, and now him, ever had the privilege of seeing her this way.

  She set her chin in her palm. “Tell me how you got involved in carpentry.”

  “When I was eleven, my Uncle Joe had me help him build a garden bench. After that, I worked alongside him each summer.” Hank had loved those hot summer days spent woodworking while listening to classic rock, each year taking on more responsibility and more complex projects. “The last piece we built together was a desk for my aunt. It’s weird to look back now and realize those skills I learned from him ended up supporting my family. And the closeness I had with my uncle softened the blow of losing my dad so young. Life can be funny that way—you never know which little decisions today will make a big difference tomorrow.”

  “Funny or scary, depending on your perspective.” Cat leaned forward, apparently rapt. “Do you and your uncle still build things together?”

  “No. He moved to Florida eight years ago, but we’re still close.”

  “Sounds nice.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. Her graceful manner made even such common gestures appear sophisticated—an unwelcome reminder of how she’d never truly fit in his mundane life. “Can I see your workshop?”

  “Sure.” He tossed their paper plates in the trash, hooked the video monitor to his belt, and opened the back door. “Follow me.”

  Anticipating her reaction to his private world chased away the sense of calm he typically experienced crossing the lawn.

  Although the evening sky still shone with lilac-and-rose-tinted light, he flicked on the overhead lights in the garage. “This is it. It’s not much, but—”

  “This is where the magic happens,” she said on a breath. Her eyes scrutinized every detail as she spun on her heel. She meandered around the small studio, touching various tools and wood planks without speaking. Moments later, she asked, “This is who you are, isn’t it? This is what you love, what you want to do with your life.”

  “Maybe one day.” He dug the toe of his right shoe into the ground and noticed he was still wearing his work boots. Aw, hell. In all the chaos, he’d forgotten to shower.

  “Why wait?” She turned toward him wearing an enthusiastic smile. “Why not start now? Like I mentioned before, I could use my connections to help.”

  “You make it sound easy, but it doesn’t work that way.”

  “What way does it work?”

  “It’s a slow process. A highly efficient builder might max out at around eighteen pieces per year. I can’t afford all the equipment I’d need to work at that pace, and this space is too small.”

  “So we rent space, we buy equipment.” Her unconcerned grin reminded him of Jackson, who also had no aversion to risk. Of course, unlike Hank, neither of them supported dependents. “What else?”

  He chuckled until he realized she was dead serious. “Cat, what exactly are you proposing?”

  She stilled, looking uncharacteristically shy for a minute. “How about a partnership, fifty-fifty? You’re the talent, and I’ll handle the branding and sales.”

  “When?” He chuckled. “In between photo shoots?”

  She squared her shoulders—friendly rapport retreating behind the façade. Clearly his joke had insulted her. “Y
ou know, a lot of companies would pay me for my name and social reach.”

  “Probably, but I don’t have a furniture company, so there’s nothing to promote.” When she didn’t appear dissuaded, he pointed toward the house. “I need a steady paycheck as long as my mom’s alive and Jenny’s still in college.”

  “You’ve supported your family for so long. It’s remarkable, actually.” She casually crossed her arms and cocked her head to the left. “Don’t you think that, after everything you sacrificed for them, they’d welcome the chance to return the favor?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “No, but nothing’s impossible. Especially not when you have help. Don’t you want the chance to pursue your own dreams?”

  “I have a lot of dreams, Cat. Not just this one.” He crossed his arms to show he was equally resolved to his position as she was to hers. “Believe me, the choices I’ve made have given me more than I’ve lost.”

  Her dubious expression coupled with silence forced him to defend his remark.

  “My family loves and respects me thanks to the ‘sacrifices’ I’ve made. When my mom dies, I’ll be at peace because of the way I’ve cared for her. All of it—everything I’ve done—has proven I’m a man who can be counted on, who doesn’t walk away when things are hard. That means something to me.” He looked around his shop. “I do love building furniture. But even if I had my own business and a brand worth bragging about, it wouldn’t give me those other things. Trust me, I’m okay with my choices.”

  Cat stared at him, whether in admiration or utter bewilderment he wasn’t quite sure. “Fine.”

  Living with five women had taught him that fine pretty much meant the opposite. “Why does it even matter to you, Cat? You’re a hotshot model with plenty of money, so why fuss around with a little furniture shop?”

  She fingered a chisel and worried her lower lip. “When I was young, my dad always bragged about David’s IQ and Jackson’s athleticism. He even acknowledged Vivi’s artistic talent, but apparently all I had to offer was this,” she swept her hand from head to toe.

  Her sheepish expression kicked him in the gut, but he refrained from interrupting her. Cat St. James had chosen to confide in him. His heart thumped at the realization.

  “When I was ‘discovered,’ I grabbed the opportunity to prove I could be as successful as my brothers, even if my only asset was my face. But after the initial thrill of it all, I’ve never gotten any real satisfaction from modeling.” She sighed before continuing.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m appreciative of my career, and it’s important to me. Still, I regret dropping out of college, especially now, when I’m on the downside of the industry. I want—need—a chance to reinvent myself. To discover whether there’s more to me than the way I look. I assumed you’d jump at the chance to be your own boss, and figured we could help each other fulfill these needs.” Cat glanced up, her expression chagrined. “You probably think I’m a whiny brat complaining about my life when, compared to yours, it’s so easy.”

  “Quit thinking for me, Cat. You’re never right.” He searched her face, but she kept her gaze averted. Why couldn’t she see he found this woman—soft, honest, thoughtful—far more appealing than the aloof “cover girl”? He stepped closer, yearning to comfort her. “You don’t sound whiny. Wistful, maybe.”

  The heavy pulsing of his heart charged the atmosphere in the garage. As if drawn to him by the invisible thread of his need, Cat drifted within inches of his body.

  “You said earlier that all I do is play games.” She met his gaze, her wide eyes filled with resolve. “Well, I’m serious about this business idea, Hank. My gut is telling me this could be a great change for both of us. Before you say no, could you at least give it some thought?”

  “When I accused you of playing games, I meant the personal kind. And frankly, I’m more interested in that kind of relationship than a business one.” Holy shit, he said that out loud. He watched her chew on the inside of her cheek.

  “Although it may not seem like it,” she said, “I’ve always been attracted to you.”

  Heart in his throat now, Hank clasped her hand and stepped even closer. “Is that a yes?”

  A dark shadow clouded her features. Then, as if in reflex, she regained her composure. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  “Why not?” He wondered about her ex. “Are you . . . do you miss Justin despite what happened?”

  “God, no.” She scowled. “I’m over him, and I hope he’s over me.”

  “Is there a reason to think he’s not?”

  She hesitated long enough to rouse his suspicion. “Not exactly.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it, actually.” She looked away.

  Instinct urged him to push, but he respected her privacy. “Okay, but you’d go to Jackson or David if he bothered you, right?”

  “He won’t bother me,” she stated, sounding like she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

  He let it go in order to steer the conversation back to the possibility of them. “So if there’s no another guy, what’s the problem? Don’t you trust me?”

  Her eyes grew misty, but maybe they were reacting to the dusty environment. “It’s not that, Hank.” She blinked twice. “I’m grateful that you’re willing to overlook our past, and I’m flattered by your attention, but you don’t really know me. I’m not who people think I am, and anyway, I think we should keep things platonic if there’s any chance we could be business partners.”

  When he didn’t answer, she chuckled. “Ah, so that’s off the table, too. Don’t worry. I didn’t really think you’d go for it. You don’t need me to do this someday. Still, I had to try.”

  He grabbed her hand. “Listen, Cat. No matter what your dad or anyone else thinks, I can see there’s more to you than that gorgeous face. No one succeeds at your level without grit, determination, and smarts. You’ll make a great business partner for someone. The timing just isn’t right for me.”

  She looked on the verge of jumping into his arms. If his truck hadn’t roared into the driveway, he would’ve scooped her up and carried her off right then and there.

  “I should go,” Cat said, her body still close to his.

  “Hold on.” Hank reached for her cheek, but Jenny burst into the garage.

  “Oh, sorry!” Embarrassed, she turned away. “Saw the light and figured Hank was out here working.”

  Cat and Hank stepped apart, the moment lost. He’d grown used to the utter lack of privacy, although it irked him tonight. “It’s fine, Jenny.”

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Jenny swirled around and grimaced. “Don’t mind me.”

  “I really should leave.” Cat smiled at Jenny. “Long drive.”

  “See you inside,” Hank said to Jenny before he refocused his attention on Cat. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  They all filed out of the garage, and Jenny headed toward the house.

  Cat fell in step beside Hank. Together they meandered down the driveway in silence.

  Uncertainty, and lots of other emotions, weighed on him. She liked him but didn’t want a relationship. If he proposed something more casual, would she go for it? He’d never been one for flings, but given her mercurial nature, maybe it would work better that way. No matter how much he wanted to resist her, she was an itch he needed to scratch.

  Cat unlocked the car with her remote, so Hank stepped ahead and opened the door for her. Before sliding into the seat, she turned and touched his arm. He liked her touch—wanted more. He covered her hand with his, enjoying the stirring sensations rippling up his forearm.

  Her face brightened unexpectedly. “When will you be starting on my armoires?”

  “I think I’ll come on Monday. Need to pick up the wood and do some rough cutting this weekend. Once I start, I’ll still need to spend a few hours out here now and then to oversee Jackson’s projects.”

  “He relies on you
that much?”

  Hank nodded.

  “Jackson values loyalty.” She looked down the street and then at him. “One last thought before I go. You might be an amazing finish carpenter, but in that profession you’re still replaceable, right? There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of carpenters in Connecticut that Jackson could hire. On the other hand, your exceptional talent for furniture design—that’s not replaceable. It’s a gift you shouldn’t squander.”

  Is that what he’d been doing—squandering his talent?

  He didn’t like that perception one bit, but like a drop of poison in a body of water, it seeped throughout his mind.

  Maybe for Cat, throwing a little money and effort to test the waters wasn’t a big deal, but Hank didn’t have that luxury. Failure could be catastrophic to his family’s future. Then again, her proposal was a once-in-a-lifetime offer. Could it work?

  “You’re determined to tempt me, aren’t you?” And oh, did she ever.

  “How am I doing?”

  Pretty well, considering he hadn’t shot it down completely, at least not in his own mind.

  “Tell you what, I’ll give your idea some more thought.” He glanced back at his house briefly, trying to envision a different life.

  “You will?” She lit up. “Consider yourself warned, Hank. Next time you see me, you won’t know what hit you.”

  He almost laughed, because he already felt that way whenever he saw her. A mixture of hope and doubt brewed in his stomach.

  Mom,

  I think you’d really like Hank. He’s open, like you. Even with a life full of adversity, he isn’t hardened or resentful. He’s forgiving, earnest, reliable, fair . . .

  He deserves good things now—big and small—and I’m going to make sure he gets them.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Despite Hank’s protests yesterday afternoon, he caught up with Jackson on-site at the Caine’s house. Jackson had been a great boss and friend for years, and Hank knew his friend needed his help. Or perhaps he just had a guilty conscience because he’d spent all night considering Cat’s crazy idea.