Again, Chesney only offered a nod. She pretended not to study the shade of the tan on his strong arms. She pretended not to notice the slight tinge of aftershave mixed with freshly mown grass, or maybe it was hay? Did Dalton Moore live on a farm? She knew little about the guy. Soon after he arrived here to work, they entered into this stand-off. And neither of them had made an effort to break the ice. For Chesney, it was certainly safer this way. She didn’t want to like this guy. She had made peace with the fact that yes, she secretly lusted after him. But she was also convinced that acting on that lust would do nothing more than complicate things. By the way Dalton behaved toward her, Chesney was certain that she had nothing to stress about. He seemed to work at tolerating her presence. “Looks nice,” she managed as he placed the sconce on the wall.
“Yeah,” he seemed pleased. “It really does look nice there.”
Chesney’s next sentence was lost under the loud roar of a motor or an engine. “What in the hell was that?” She looked at Dalton and he pointed out the naked window.
“Harley,” Dalton said. “Sounds like you have company.”
“I don’t know anyone around here who rides motorcycles,” Chesney said as her eyes followed his.
“It’s Deke,” Dalton said as he glanced out the window. “Deke…you know, from the hardware store.”
“What’s he doing out here?” Chesney asked as her cheeks reddened.
“Well you know him, don’t you?” Dalton said a bit sharply. “You like to visit with him when you go to town.”
“What makes you think that?” she asked.
“Luke told me,” Dalton said with a grin. “Don’t forget I waited for more than an hour last week, for you to return from town with more sandpaper. Remember? Luke told me later that you were in the back of store, flirting around with Deke.”
“That little ass,” Chesney grumbled. “Since when did making conversation with someone turn into flirting?”
Dalton turned back to preparing the wiring for the second sconce. He obviously dismissed her again, but not before she heard that little tone in his voice. Could that be jealousy? She was amused by that thought but quickly tossed it aside, recalling that Dalton had Rose at home. Why should he care who his employer spoke to at the hardware store? Outside, Deke Wooldridge was throwing gravel all the way up the winding lane toward the house. Deke looked pretty damn good, too, with his long hair flying in a tangled mass. With those dark sunglasses and a toothy smile, he looked more than good. He looked very much like a grungy, sexy guy from Roadhouse. One thing was for sure, Deke the hardware store owner paid a lot more attention to the new resident of Bean Blossom than the moody handyman ever did. Casually stepping outside, she waved as Deke rode close to the porch. “What in the world are you doing?” she laughed.
“Get on,” Deke motioned for her. “Come on, Chez. You need a break. I’m taking you out for lunch.”
“Are you kidding?” she laughed again and backed away.
“Not taking no for an answer,” Deke said. “Climb on here. We won’t be gone too long. I promise all that wallpaper will be here when you get back.”
“I haven’t been on a bike since high school,” Chesney giggled as she cupped his shoulder and straddled the strip of black leather behind him.
“Since high school? That’s too damn long, little Miss Chesney,” Deke said. “You need to have yourself some fun. All work and no play? That’s no way to live life.”
As she placed the extra helmet on her head, Chesney slyly peeked at the front porch. With no curtains over the windows, she saw Dalton, still on the ladder. But his face was turned, watching her. Chesney smiled to herself and pretended not to see Dalton. The moment she climbed on, Deke roared down the lane and out on the two-lane country road, whizzing past the tree line, the fields of corn and soybeans. Her hands circled Deke’s waist and she rested her cheek against his back. She hoped he wouldn’t get the wrong idea about her intentions, but she was so tired and the sun on her face made her unwind, calm down, rest. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the scents of the country, wild onions, fresh grass, that faint scent of hay.
When Deke pulled up in front of Cathy’s Café, Chesney caught her breath.
If we walk in there together, tongues will wag. Gossip will spin so quick, people won’t have any spit left from blabbing.
“Meatloaf today, for the lunch special,” Deke said as he opened the cafe door. “And I have something to tell you, Chesney.”
Aware of all the community eyes turned in their direction, Chesney was pissed by the nosiness. She considered blowing kisses at the crowd. But instead, she lagged a few steps behind Deke and tried to say, at least with body language, that she and the hardware store artist were only friends. Even though Deke was a great guy and even though he was quite attractive in a wild sort of way, he didn’t squeeze her heart like that beautiful, arrogant handy man. As she scooted into the cracked vinyl booth, Chesney worried that Deke had the wrong idea about her. Had she been guilty of flirting? Yes, actually she probably had. She hated to admit it but there were days when she craved some male attention. She couldn’t recall when she last felt pretty. She could, however, very quickly conjure up that old vision of Belinda Big Ass, screwing stupid Jack Ass.
“You want the meatloaf?” Deke asked Chesney as a woman named Carol Ann approached to take their orders.
Feeling famished, Chesney mentally rejected her first intention to order a salad. “I’ll have a burger,” she said, adding, “with fries and a chocolate shake. Oh, and a piece of chocolate pie, too.”
Deke grinned across the table. “You need to put some meat on those bones,” he smiled. “That’s for sure.”
While they waited for lunch to arrive, Chesney prompted Deke to share whatever it was that made his entire face light up. “I sold two of my paintings,” he said happily. “How about that, Chez? And better yet, an art gallery in Nashville wants to feature my work next month.”
“Are you kidding?” she squealed. “I’m so happy for you, Deke. See? I told you your work is beautiful, didn’t I? That three-dimensional technique you do with landscapes is amazing. And now you’ll finally have the chance to share it. More people can see your work. And they don’t have to wait until they need to shop at the hardware store.”
“This opportunity really means a lot to me,” Deke said as he rubbed his hand through his windblown hair. “I still can’t quite believe that it’s true.”
“When my friend Becca comes to town next month, she and I will definitely make the trip to Nashville,” Chesney smiled. “Maybe the three of us can go out for dinner.”
“Sounds great,” Deke smiled back.
During the lunch, Chesney learned a lot more about Deke. He grew up north of Bean Blossom. He wanted to study art after high school. But his family rejected that idea. So he got a degree in business instead. And when his father died suddenly from heart trouble, Deke was expected to step in and take over the family hardware business. As the only son, it was his responsibility to financially provide for his mother.
“To live with how my life turned out, I paint during the day when I’m not helping customers,” he said. “But I never thought I would have an opportunity like this. I really never believed it could happen.”
“I never thought I’d write for a living either,” Chesney said. “For years, I worked as a reporter for a notoriously understaffed newspaper. But then I finally sold one book. Thankfully, one book was all that was necessary for me to get my foot in the highly competitive world of literature. So yes, I do understand what this means to you, Deke. My writing is who I am. It’s what I am. And if I wasn’t able to write, I’d be lost.”
“I still can’t believe it,” he leaned back against the navy blue vinyl booth. “This could be a great beginning for me. I’d love nothing better than to sell that store and paint all day every day, for the rest of my life. But you know what, Chesney? Even if nothing comes of it, I’m still really proud of the possibility.”
“Oh, Luke’s there today,” Deke said. “Wednesdays are usually pretty slow this time of year. It’s the end of summer. We won’t get really busy again until people start buying supplies for winter.”
“So…I know where you grew up and I know about your love for art, I even know how you ended up in the hardware business,” Chesney said. “But I don’t know other things about you…like…if you’re married.”
“And you’re interested because….you’re falling in love with me?” Deke grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.
Chesney’s face went red with embarrassment. “We’re friends, Deke,” she said.
“Shouldn’t I be able to ask about your marital status?”
“Can I ask about your status?” Deke asked.
Their meals arrived and Chesney’s taste buds actually ached when she laid eyes on that greasy burger. To hell with tofu and naked lettuce. She closed her eyes and bit into the perfectly prepared, kazillion-calorie lunch.
“You already know my status,” Chesney said as she dipped a French fry in ketchup. “In fact the entire town of Bean Blossom knows my status, Deke. No, I’m not married. And no, I’m not involved with anyone.”
“Me neither,” Deke said. “On both counts.”
“Never?”
“Once,” he said. “For almost two years. But we were too young to know we weren’t ready to be married. And when we figured it out, we got a friendly divorce and moved on with our lives.”
Chesney punched thoughtfully at the ice in her glass with the straw. “No kids?” she asked.
“Not unless I count my two pitties, Fred and Wilma,” Deke smiled. “But I’m okay with how it all turned out. My pitbulls and a couple of stray cats keep me company. I’m not saying that I don’t get lonely. I would love to fall in love with a good woman. But I don’t wish for that to happen anymore. If she’s out there, I will be crazy happy to find her and cherish her for the rest of my life.” He finished off the slab of meatloaf and asked the question Chesney dreaded. “What about you?
Why aren’t you involved with anyone?”
“Honestly?” she shrugged. “I’ll tell you the truth, Deke. I think I’m cursed.”
“Aw, Chez,” Deke shook his head slowly and studied her. “You’re joking. Aren’t you?”
“Grace was cursed too,” she said. “Remember, Deke? She spent all of her life alone. And when it comes to men, I inherited every bit of my grandmother’s misfortune.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Deke said.
“I don’t,” she said.
“You’re a strong, feisty young woman,” Deke said. “Maybe your world is more like mine. Maybe our true loves don’t come around until later, when we can truly appreciate everything a true love has to offer.”
“I hope that happens for you,” Chesney smiled. “But Deke, I’m done with men. I’m an ass magnet.”
Deke exploded with laughter and Chesney calmly wiggled out of the booth and stood. She already knew he would laugh at her damn curse. She already knew Deke wouldn’t take her seriously. She wasn’t necessarily angry about his response. But she was absolutely finished talking about the subject. “I might be done with men but I’m not done with stripping wallpaper,” Chesney said. “So I should get back to Chesney Ridge. Are you ready to go?”
They rode back in silence. But when Deke stopped the bike in front of the house, he smiled shyly as Chesney thanked him for the lunch break “You’re a great girl, Chesney. Don’t close your heart for too long, okay? You just haven’t met the right guy yet.”
“Thanks for the ride, Deke. And congratulations on the art show.”
“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” he said. “If memory serves me right, you’ll be coming into town for more paint.” Then he disappeared back down the lane.
When she walked inside, she found Dalton in the library, installing ceiling-high bookshelves. She decided not to acknowledge him. After all, he walked past her plenty of times like she was invisible.
“How was the ride?” he asked as Chesney walked past.
She smiled to herself before she turned around to face him. “We had a great ride,” Chesney said lightly. “We stopped for lunch at Cathy’s.”
“Are you dating Deke?” Dalton asked.
“Why do you care?” Chesney shot back.
“I don’t care,” Dalton said. “I was just asking. But if you think you can keep it secret, you’re wrong. There are no secrets in Bean Blossom.”
“Let me know what you hear about me then, okay?” Chesney continued past him without answering his question. She smiled to herself, wondering if Dalton might just be the tiniest bit interested in her business. Before jumping right back into the second layer of wallpaper on the dining room wall, she stretched out on the floor to rest for a few moments. That greasy burger and the delicious homemade pie had made her lazy. She closed her eyes, envisioning several favorite books lining those beautiful shelves Dalton was installing. And promptly fell asleep.
“Ms. Blake?” Dalton's face, so close that she could feel his breath, startled her awake. “Are you alright?”
Struggling to sit up, her eyelids felt heavy. She felt intoxicated. She was red with humiliation. “I guess I was overcome by your carpentry,” Chesney said with a yawn. “Or it might have been that greasy burger at Cathy’s.”
“I think you just need some rest,” Dalton said. “You work all these long hours on the house. It’s starting to catch up with you.”
“I'm fine,” she lied. “Now that I've had a little cat nap, I think I'll finish that second coat of paint in the hallway.” She jumped up and hurried to the hallway to put some distance between them and to pretend Dalton’s eyes weren’t following her every move. For the rest of the day, Chesney intently slathered paint up and down the hallway. But she could still feel Dalton’s breath on her face. She wrestled with her conscience about how much she had hoped, during those few seconds, that Dalton Moore the handyman, would lean close and brush his lips against hers. “Stop it,” she hissed at herself. “Get those thoughts out of your head. You are a cursed woman. You should not think about him or any other man. You are cursed when it comes to relationships.”
That evening after Dalton packed up his tools, Chesney ate some dinner alone in front of the TV. outside on the porch swing, she waited patiently to watch the sun yawn and stretch along the faded old fence behind the barn. “Are you happy that I'm here, Grace?” Chesney asked the starry sky. “Do you like what I've done so far? How about that kitchen? Is that gorgeous or what?”
When the evening dew set in, she went back inside and leaned against the door frame in the study to admire the bookshelves. “Damn it, Dalton,” she breathed. “It is harder and harder to pretend that I’m not staring at you. Who knows how I can possibly make it through this. As hard as it will be to say good-bye, you need to get going soon.”
Chapter Twelve
When the last few shreds of lavender and gray flowers from the dining room walls finally fell away, Chesney thought about cheering for herself. Three layers of sticky wall covering was now gone. Every wall was freshly bare and ready for a new personality. She felt absolutely giddy about how beautifully the house was growing into its own. That final goal had been achieved before the sun came up, so she started the coffee and turned on the oven. Just as Dalton arrived to begin his work day, nicely browned biscuits came out of the oven. She arranged them next to an assortment of sliced bananas, strawberries and oranges on a plate, tucked a few flowers in a vase on the table and greeted the handyman with a smile. “Before we start to work, we're having breakfast,” Chesney said with a grin. “I want to celebrate with you, Mr. Moore, the fact that the dining room is now naked of all wallpaper.”
Dalton returned the smile. He tossed his tool belt over a saw horse and sat down on a crate near the window. “I never pass up a free brea
kfast,” he said as he tried to balance the plate on his knees.
“Sorry I don't have a table and chairs yet,” Chesney said with a giggle. “It’s on my list of things to purchase.”
“Not a problem.” As he sipped at the hot coffee, Dalton’s eyes were on her.
“Cream for your coffee?” She nervously passed the fresh fruit to the cute handyman, making a point to be warm and friendly, but not flirty. He again balanced the plate on his knees before looking at her.
“I like it strong. Black,” Dalton grinned. His stare was intense and Chesney’s heartbeat quickened. Though she secretly wanted Dalton’s attention, his gaze made her feel uncomfortable. His eyes remained locked on hers.
“What is it?” she finally asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“Why are you staring at me? You look like you want to say something or ask me something. So what is it?”
“Why are you here?” Dalton asked.
“What kind of question is that?” Chesney nervously averted her eyes. “What do you mean? Why am I in the kitchen instead of starting to strip the hallway wallpaper?” She offered a weak laugh and realized that the handyman had no intention of letting her off the hook.
“I’m asking why you are in Bean Blossom.”
“Why do you care?”
“Just curious, I guess,” Dalton said. “Not a lot of people our age choose to live in a little berg in the hills like Bean Blossom.”
“I could ask you the same question, Mr. Moore. Why are you here?” she asked.
“I love it here,” Dalton said. “I was raised a few miles down the road.”
He thoughtfully stirred his coffee. “As a kid, I couldn't wait to get out of here,” he said. “I thought life was passing me by.”
Hanging on every word and on every moment he glanced up at her with those beautiful, azure eyes, Chesney swallowed hard, anxious to hear about who Dalton Moore was when he wasn’t busy being her handyman.
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