“Let’s go look at that house.” He grabbed his keys off the counter. “Ready?”
“I am.”
A few minutes later they were pulling up to the little house behind Ann’s sister Lottie’s place. The house might have been a detached garage at one time. Now it was a one-bedroom cottage with vines creeping up the sides and flower beds growing out of control.
For a minute they sat in Patrick’s extended-cab truck. Gracie glanced at her boss. He reached for his door handle.
“It looks solid,” he offered.
“It looks perfect. Let’s go check it out.”
With Patrick at her side, Gracie unlocked the front door of the cottage and entered her new home. Her new life. The house was tiny—a miniature living room, miniature kitchen and bedroom with a bathroom attached. The floors were linoleum with big flowers, circa 1950. The kitchen had white painted cabinets with yellow Formica tops. A window overlooked a vegetable garden that had gone to weeds and several bird feeders that needed filling.
Gracie wandered through the house, from the bedroom with the blond-stained wood furniture back to the living room with the dark green sofa and recliner. A few area rugs, some pictures on the walls and she could see this as her home. She tried not to think about the house she would have shared with Trent. It would have been too big, that French country brick house. It would have been another world.
This was her world. Her life. She smiled and spun around to face Patrick. He was poking around at a water spot on the ceiling.
“I love it.” She grinned and hoped he’d smile and not say something negative. Her dad and brothers always used negativity to bring her down and make her see reality. Their version of reality.
The car she’d wanted when she turned sixteen would have been a gas guzzler. The basketball player who had asked her out, he was from another town and she didn’t know a thing about him. When she’d wanted to go away to college, they’d convinced her to make the drive and save money.
And they were usually right. But sometimes, just every now and then, she wanted to find out for herself.
They had tried to warn her about Trent. Evan had been blunt about what he thought of her future intended.
“I think you’re right.” Patrick lowered his hand. “I can fix that. It probably needs a seam in the roof sealed a little better.”
“Thank you.” She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “But I can fix it, too.”
The screen door creaked open. Ann Mars stepped into the room. She surveyed the two of them and then turned her attention to the house. She looked around, nodding as if she approved.
“I thought it might be the two of you.” She flicked a speck of lint off the sofa. “My sister is a worrier and she called me to let me know we had trespassers.”
“I should have let her know we were coming back to look at the house.” Gracie let go of Patrick’s hand. She hadn’t been paying attention until Ann glanced down at their joined hands.
“It isn’t a problem, Gracie. I only wanted to know that it would work for you. What do you think? Is it furnished okay?”
“It’s perfect.” Gracie glanced around the little house. “Oh, Patrick noticed a water leak.”
“I can fix it, though,” he offered.
“That would be so nice. And if it is going to be expensive, you let me know. Lottie lives the life of a miser, but she and her husband made some good investments over the years. She can afford to keep this place maintained.”
“Thanks, Ann.” Gracie turned to take one last walk through her new home. She flipped off lights that she’d left on and rejoined Patrick and Miss Ann Mars in the living room.
“It’s perfect. And you let me know what I need to do for Lottie.”
Ann cackled at that. “Oh, don’t worry, Lottie will let you know. And a word of warning, she’s nosier than I am and she’ll be watching like a hawk. She also isn’t as good at keeping things to herself.”
“Ann, what you—”
Ann cut Gracie off with a raised hand, her gnarled fingers shaking a little. “Don’t try to fool an old lady, Gracie. I am very aware and my eyes are quite good.”
“I’m sure they are.” She rubbed at her cheeks as heat climbed from her neck into her face.
“Oh, Gracie, don’t look so shocked. You’re a grown woman and Patrick is a grown, single man.” Ann looped an arm through Patrick’s and led them outside. “I think the two of you look rather sweet together. Big, tall Patrick and sweet little Gracie.”
“Ann, you’re mistaken.” Patrick glanced at Gracie and then at Ann Mars. His dark cheeks were tinged with red. “Gracie and I are friends.”
“That’s the best way to start a relationship, Patrick, as friends. Some couples fall into love but never get to know each other. It’s a shame, really. They miss out on so much.”
“Ann, we’re really not a couple. I just ended an engagement less than two weeks ago.” Even as she said the words, Gracie knew that Ann wasn’t hearing. She’d already made up her mind.
“And aren’t you glad you did?” Ann took careful steps toward Lottie’s house, still holding Patrick’s arm. “I’m not sure why you stood that young man up at the altar, and I don’t care what other people say, but I know you, Gracie, and I know you had a good reason. It wasn’t just a case of cold feet.”
Gracie didn’t know what to say. Patrick glanced over at her, a look Ann Mars didn’t see but must have felt because she looked up at him. He smiled down at her, a perfectly innocent smile, Gracie thought. A smile that could make a woman forget that she’d recently had her heart broken.
It took her by surprise. And not much surprised Gracie.
Chapter Eight
Thursday evening Patrick couldn’t come up with a decent excuse to get out of the social night at the Community Church. Everyone was going to be there, Coraline Connolly had informed him, and he was part of everyone. He had walked the short distance to the church that already felt like home to him.
Yes, there were still a few locals who weren’t thrilled with the changes to Main Street. That was how small towns operated, Joshua Smith had told him. And Josh was at this function, along with Lily Farnsworth and Tate Bronson. The two were happily engaged and planning a wedding to take place pretty soon.
He hadn’t seen Melissa Sweeney and her fiancé, Brian, but he’d seen the cake on display in the fellowship hall and knew she must have brought it from her shop, Sweet Dreams Bakery. Allison True, owner of the new bookstore, was also in attendance and she stood with a group of Bygones’s longtime citizens.
Allison was the only shop owner in the group who was originally from Bygones. It made sense that she knew people, that she had connections and friendships with the citizens of the town.
He searched the crowd for Gracie, not really expecting to find her. But he wanted her to be there. He wanted to stand next to her, the two of them facing these crowds of people. Together. He shook off the thoughts. When had he ever needed someone standing next to him? And Gracie? Five-feet-tall Gracie?
Made-of-steel Gracie. He smiled; it fit her.
A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop as he started through the crowd. He turned and smiled at the woman whose hold on his arm kept him from escaping. Phyllis. He couldn’t remember her last name but she’d been in the store the other day and had invited him to this function. He had a sneaking suspicion that she thought his appearance equaled a date.
He glanced around, wondering again where Gracie was and why she wasn’t here.
“Patrick, I’m so glad you’re here!” She was pretty, and he was sure she was sweet.
“I was just heading into the fellowship hall to speak to Coraline Connolly.”
“Oh, of course.” Her smile faded. “Maybe we can chat later. I think we plan on eating in about thirty minu
tes. And after that they’re showing a movie.”
“Great. I’ll talk to you soon.” He was a chicken. He was bad at relationships. He didn’t like the singles scene. Back in Michigan his friends had all gotten married, were having kids and insisting that he be the next to fall. He’d been set up on more blind dates than he cared to remember.
Most had been torture. Some had been nice. A few of the women he’d gone out with more than once. But work had always interfered.
A friend of his had accused him of letting work sabotage his love life. He’d told Patrick that when the right woman came along, he’d ignore the phone, the million odd jobs he tended to take on, and he’d learn to take a day or two off.
“Patrick, there you are.” Coraline Connolly headed his way, her short hair neat as always, her business attire never changing. He’d seen her once in jeans and a blouse, but almost always in a skirt and jacket that screamed school principal.
“Here I am.” And already looking for an escape. “Have you seen Gracie?”
Coraline glanced around the room. “No, I haven’t. That girl is hiding out in the little house Ann let her move into. And I doubt she’s going to come to a function that focuses on socializing and singles. I think she’s had her share of romance for a while.”
“Yes, she probably has.”
“Is there a reason you were looking for her?” Coraline’s eyes sparked with interest.
“I needed to see if she could open for me tomorrow. I have a job at the Scott ranch, fixing a bathroom floor. And then I have to take a look at a couple of the houses we’re going to paint.”
“About that painting. Patrick, I am so thrilled with that idea. I’m sure Gracie dragged you along on one of her little schemes, but it’s brilliant.”
“She does have a tendency to pull a person into her plans.”
“Yes, well, she’s always managed to get so much done. I think we would have missed her if she’d married Trent Morgan. Even engaged to him she was losing a little of herself. It’s good to see her returning to the person we all know and love.”
“I would have hated to lose her, too.”
Coraline’s eyes widened and she coughed a little. He realized his mistake.
“I worded that wrong,” he rushed to explain. “I meant, I would have hated to lose her at the hardware store. The Fixer-Upper needs her. She knows how to bring in customers.”
“She went to school to get a degree in marketing.” Coraline looked away, smiled a little and then looked back at him.
Patrick glanced the way she’d looked, wondering who had gotten that secret smile of hers. He saw a group of people near the food but no one stood out. Interesting.
And on to other interesting news that had taken him by surprise. “Gracie has a degree in marketing?”
Coraline shook her head. “No, unfortunately she didn’t finish. She went for three years but the expense of going, and the exhaustion from school, the farm and the granary, it all got to be too much for her. She’s never slowed down to let people take care of her.”
“I can see that.”
“And I can see you have other things on your mind, Patrick. If you need to talk, you know that I’m here. And if you’re worried about the store, don’t be. I know you’re going to make it here in Bygones.”
“Thanks, Coraline, I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
She patted his arm and walked away. And that left him in the open again. From across the room, Phyllis waved. He nodded in answer and smiled. Another group of women seemed to be in earnest communication. A few of them glanced his way. One started to break from the group.
He had to get out of here.
He pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number. When Gracie answered, he felt something like relief sweep over him. He walked away from the crowds of people, relaxing as he went.
“Hello,” she repeated.
“Where are you?” he finally asked, sounding a lot more perturbed than he’d planned.
“Wow, you sound pleasant.” She huffed and puffed as they talked. “Where are you?”
“I’m at a church function surrounded by single women. I thought you’d be here to support me.”
“You don’t need me for a wingman.”
He laughed at that. “No, I don’t. I thought you’d be here, though.”
“As a shield of protection?”
“Yes, I guess so.” He kept talking as he headed for the back door, ignoring the people who sent curious looks his way. He guessed the newcomers to town did more than bring revenue; they gave the locals something new to talk about.
“Sorry, I’m busy trying to peel decades-old wallpaper off the kitchen walls.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I want to paint before I move in. I’m not fond of big red-and-blue flowers. I mean, not that I’m against flowers, or even against red and blue, but last night I had a dream that flowers were trying to chase me down and strangle me.”
His tension completely gone, he laughed. “Why not put up tile? We could scrape the wallpaper to rough it up and you wouldn’t have to peel it.”
“Now you tell me.”
“I have some natural tile, different-size squares. It would look great.”
“So I just have to peel paint from the big wall where my table is.”
“I guess so.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket as he walked across the parking lot to his truck. “What do you have for dinner?”
“Huh?”
“I’ll stop at the store and get the tile and other supplies. I’ll be at your place in thirty minutes.”
He was losing his mind. He could think of no other reason for what he’d just done, walking out of a church full of singles and then hightailing it to Gracie Wilson’s. He’d escaped the frying pan and jumped right into the fire.
Gracie looked at the phone in her hand and then she grabbed the stainless toaster and glared at her reflection in the polished metal of the antique kitchen appliance. Eek. Not good. She had flecks of paint on her face and in her hair from the bathroom project she had already finished. She tossed her phone on the counter and looked again at the scraggly ponytail with hair escaping from all sides.
Her hunky, adorable and single boss was going to catch her looking like a wreck. Not that she wanted to impress him. After all, he’d seen her with a puffy, tear-stained face. He’d seen, firsthand, the humiliation of what happened to a hometown girl when she left the guy at the altar.
Okay, she didn’t want to impress him, but she didn’t want to get caught looking like a home-repair project, either. She rushed into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt. Heart racing, she did a quick change, scrubbed paint off her face and ran a brush through her hair. She glanced at lip gloss but she refused to go that far. He would know she was up to something if he knocked on her door and found her wearing makeup that she almost never wore.
The lip gloss tempted her again. The bright pink gloss smelled like apples. She gave in to temptation and brushed it across her lips. And then she fell further and sprayed a quick squirt of perfume.
And then regret hit. She looked like someone who had gotten ready for a guy. And she was the last person who should be doing something so ridiculous. She’d just walked away from something that had been more than just a relationship. She had been moments away from marriage.
That was obviously over, but she didn’t want to start a new relationship, not now when she still doubted herself and wondered if Trent had been right, that she was the reason he’d cheated.
But friendship. Patrick was about the best friend she had right now.
A knock on the door brought her eyes open. She glanced quickly in the mirror and then hurried to the living room, sliding on the linoleum as she crossed the room. Patrick stood
on the other side of the storm door, holding a brown paper bag and smiling.
She motioned him inside. “What’s that?”
“Burgers and fries.”
Her stomach growled. They both laughed. “Come on in. Sorry that everything is a mess. Including me. I painted the bathroom today and then I started in on that horrible wallpaper.”
“The stuff nightmares are made of.”
She motioned to the little dining-room table with the aluminum frame and yellow Formica circa 1960-
something. The chairs matched but they were covered with avocado-green vinyl, probably compliments of the early 1970s. Somehow it all worked and she loved it.
“Have a seat. Do you want water or iced tea?”
He folded himself into the chair, looking like a giant trying to sit on a toy. “Water is good.”
“So, you didn’t enjoy the social at the Community Church?”
“It wasn’t terrible, just not my favorite thing to do.”
“You’d rather spackle some plaster on the wall and put up tile? That’s a little weird.”
He shrugged powerful shoulders beneath a denim shirt. “I guess it is.”
She filled glasses with water and grabbed a couple of paper plates for their dinner. When she returned to the table, he stood and then there was that awkward moment when chivalry takes a girl by surprise. Gracie stared up at him, unsure of what to say next. Her heart was beating fast as she opened the bag of food and placed a burger and fries on each of their plates.
He plucked at her hair and she was forced to look up again, forced to see his smile and laughter in his eyes.
“You have paint in your hair.” He slid his fingers down a strand and flicked the paint away. “There, got it. Or some of it.”
Heat climbed her cheeks and she sat down quickly, barely hitting the edge of the seat, but fortunately not adding to her embarrassment by falling on the floor. Patrick’s hand shot out and he steadied her.
The Boss's Bride (The Heart of Main Street) Page 9