by Diann Hunt
She nodded and whipped around. Hiccupping was a family curse from her mother’s side. Staccato hiccups punctuated almost every embarrassing moment. And nothing—not peanut butter or sugar or holding her breath—cured them.
He tapped her shoulder and she turned back around. “You might want these.” The keys dangled between his fingers.
The brush of his hand caused her pulse to stumble. Her mind drifted to a summer’s day in a park. She was wearing flowers in her hair and a long, flowing dress. He was pushing her on a swing. They were laughing together—
“What can I get you today?”
The nasally voice of the barista shook her loose from her dreaming. She wanted to thwack him. “I’ll take a mocha latte and a—” she started to order her usual peach scone but quickly changed her mind “—fat-free blueberry muffin, please.”
Boring, no-taste muffin in hand, Callie edged over to wait on her coffee, feeling quite proud of her self-control. Hopefully, Tall, Dark and Handsome had noticed. Unfortunately, when she turned around, her knight in shining armor was gone.
Maybe she’d exchange her muffin.
Chapter Two
Brad cranked up the engine of his old work truck. “You’d better get a grip on things, Brad, old boy, or Ryan will get his way.”
Tail wagging, tongue hanging, Hammer, his yellow Lab, pranced across the seat. Brad scratched the top of the hound’s head.
“She was a looker, Hammer.” Brad thought about how soft her golden hair looked against the nape of her slender neck, how the lights of the coffeehouse danced in her blue eyes. Yet there was something in those baby blues—something sobering. Oh, he was reading too much into it.
“Yes, sir, she sure improved my morning.” The gears groaned and squeaked as Brad shifted them into place and pulled into traffic. Too bad he hadn’t gotten her number, but he’d hardly earned the privilege in that length of time. Besides, he didn’t want to get serious with anyone. Though a couple of dates might have been nice.
Hammer nudged Brad’s arm.
“We’ll be there in a minute.” Brad laughed. “It’s gonna be muddy today, though. Probably not a good idea to bring you to the work site.”
The dog cocked his head sideways and let out a whine. Sometimes Brad wondered if Hammer really could understand him.
“And to think I went back so I could have that strong espresso.” He sighed. “If only there’d been enough time. But I can’t be late for work, Hammer.”
Even when it means walking away from a beautiful woman.
Flying high from her chance encounter at the bakery, Callie practically waltzed onto the job site with her coffee and muffin in hand. She didn’t care that it was raining and her hair had gone flat. Let the lightning flash and the thunder rumble. The misty air rejuvenated her. In fact, she didn’t even care that she was holding a fat-free muffin. She took a deep breath. Nothing like a spring rain to make her spirit soar. Absolutely nothing could ruin this day—not even the smell of lumber, which personified her dad and magnified the ache he’d left behind.
When she stepped up to the circle of people, she noticed a man standing in the middle, his back to her, talking. A Lab sat on his haunches as though listening intently to the man. It tickled Callie to watch the dog. Maybe he was a service dog who actually helped build houses. She stifled a giggle, nibbled on her muffin and took a sip from her coffee cup. He led them into a simple prayer for the day, then dismissed them for coffee and donuts. She’d remember that tomorrow—though she didn’t want to miss another opportunity of possibly running into the hunky guy at the bakery. Maybe Aunt Bonnie could tell her if he was a regular customer. On the other hand, she didn’t want to encourage her aunt’s matchmaking schemes.
She went to the obvious crew leader to apologize for arriving late. “I’m sorry I’m—”
The man swiveled around. His dark eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
Her pulse kicked into full throttle, and she decided right then and there this was the best day ever. Obviously, her aunt had been praying extra hard for her today. “Well, hello. Looks like we meet again.” She gave her most pleasant smile to the man from the bakery.
His eyes lit up and a grin that put her heart on hold spread across his face. “Well, hello.”
“Callie Easton reporting for duty.” She stretched out her hand to him.
His heart-stopping grin faltered.
Maybe her aunt should try fasting next time.
He looked at his clipboard, then back at her. “You’re Callie Easton?”
She wasn’t sure whether to smile or apologize. Call her optimistic, but she could think of worse things. “That’s me.”
“Brad Sharp. I’m overseeing this project,” he said, his words suddenly tight and professional. He probably had to be that way in front of the others. Okay, she’d play along.
She wanted to get out a pen and jot down his name, but one look in his eyes told her she would never forget it. All at once she realized her hand was still hanging out there between them, suspended, lonely and cold, while he ignored it completely.
“I see you got your coffee.” His tone told her he hadn’t gotten his.
Thankful she had taken the time to polish her nails, she lifted her cup and smiled. “Yes. Everyone will be happy I got it.” She leaned toward him. “I’m not fun to be around if I haven’t had my morning coffee. Especially on a Monday.” She winked. What had gotten into her? She never winked at a man—well, not one she’d known for only less than an hour anyway. But he had rescued her keys, after all.
His gaze landed on her nails. He stared. And stared. It was as if he were in a trance.
“Coral.”
Her comment visibly jarred him.
“The polish.” She wiggled her fingers. “It’s not a color you hear about much, you being a guy and all.” And what a guy, at that! “You like it?”
With a blank stare he said, “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but as you can see, we serve coffee and donuts here—”
Yes, she had noticed and was ever so grateful.
“—so if you skip your trip to the bakery in the morning, you might actually make it here on time.”
Her happy day paled a bit. “Is it the nail polish?” She studied her fingernails. “Admittedly not a great color for me.”
He said nothing. She suddenly noticed the people around them, the number of which was growing by the second. She looked back up at him to find his gaze drilling into her.
For a moment she wondered if she should give her coffee to him. Some people had been known to snap without it. “I’ll skip my trip to the bakery in the morning,” Callie said. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He no doubt was a busy man, and she didn’t want to take up all his time. At least not yet.
“Wait. I’m not finished.”
“Yes?” she asked.
“So, you’ll be here by eight-thirty tomorrow morning, right?” Noticeable edge to his voice here. Okay, she had to admit his attitude was causing a teensy stir in her stomach, like a simmering pot on the stove.
“Callie?”
Why was he pressing her this way in front of everyone? Wait. Did his foot just tap with impatience? She was pretty sure she saw that. Thoughts of her elementary-school principal, looking down at her over black-framed glasses, came back to her. She’d been in trouble that day, too.
The simmering in her stomach worked up to a full boil. It took a lot to get her riled but when she did—well, someone should warn him.
As the crowd grew, Callie’s heart pounded so hard against her chest she was sure it would break through and beat this man half to death. She’d always heard there was a fine line between love and you’d-better-run.
“Right.” She smiled again, but could feel it falter under the weight of her anger.
“Good.” He then explained the program to her, but she didn’t hear a word of it. She couldn’t imagine how this rude, arrogant, man was the same suave, debonair man she’d met at the bakery.
“You need a hard hat.” He pointed to her gym shoes. “And boots. Hard-toed boots.”
The way he stared at her shoes made her feel as though she had a bad pedicure. She wanted to hide her feet. “No one told me.”
He blew out a sigh. A very manly, husky sigh. She ignored it. No one messed with her toes and got away with it.
“There’s a pair of women’s boots in my truck over there. Best put them on.” He strode away without so much as a backward glance.
She couldn’t believe she’d given up a perfectly tasty peach scone for this jerk. It wouldn’t happen again.
“So how did your morning with the parking ticket dodger go?” Brad’s sister-in-law asked as she placed a bowl of chili in front of him on the table.
“Now, Brianna, let the man alone. He’s no doubt had a hard day on the job,” Ryan teased.
“Yeah, like you ever leave me alone.” Brad had indeed had a hard day. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh at the job site. But people were watching and if he hadn’t used Callie as an example, he’d have total chaos on the job. Though they were volunteers, he still needed people to be punctual and treat the project as a real job or they’d never finish on time or produce a quality home.
Ryan shrugged and sprinkled shredded cheese over his chili. “Yeah, you’re right. So how did it go?”
Across the table, their seventeen-year-old daughter, Olivia, snickered.
“Not you, too,” Brad said.
“Sorry, Uncle Brad.”
“Did you find a job yet, Olive?” Brad was the only one who could get by calling her that.
“Not yet. I’ve tried everywhere. I hope I don’t get stuck babysitting the Graber twins again this year. I’m so ready for a real job.”
“Nice way to change the subject, Brad,” Ryan said. He turned to his daughter. “Honest work is honest work. It pays the bills. And right now you’re saving for college. Which reminds me, did you go to the library and check on those scholarship options yet?”
“Dad, can we talk about this later?”
“We can and we will,” Ryan said in an unmistakably firm tone.
Olivia turned to Brad and smiled. “So, tell us about your day.”
“I’ll get you later,” he hissed at his grinning niece.
Brad explained how he’d run into Callie at the bakery and how she’d turned up late at the job site. When he finished, everyone was quiet. He could feel Ryan studying him.
“What?” Brad tried to appear nonchalant.
Ryan exchanged a glance with Brianna, then turned twinkling eyes to Brad. Judges’ eyes weren’t supposed to twinkle.
“Nothing.” Ryan looked at Brianna once again. “Did I say anything?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” she said.
He turned back to Brad. “Nothing here.”
“Look, Ryan, I’ve told you. I’m not interested in a relationship. I’m waiting for my next missionary assignment in South America. I’m only here because of Mom.”
“I don’t know why when there’s plenty to do here,” Ryan said.
“I don’t question why you want to be a judge.”
“You’re not getting any younger,” Ryan said.
Brad took a bite of the spicy chili in front of him. It was fiery hot but he didn’t let on.
There was no denying that Callie Easton was eye candy, but he’d seen her type before. He couldn’t deal with the nail polish, the hair, the makeup….
“She primps, plucks and pedicures, Ryan.”
“They all do that.”
“Remember, Nicole started out that way, obsessing over her appearance. One thing led to another until—”
“You can’t compare every woman who dabs on nail polish to our sister. She had issues. She was sick, Brad.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay, matter dropped,” Ryan said, followed by a moment of silence.
Brad knew he had been hard on Callie, but he didn’t want her around the job site. She was a distraction, and he figured she liked it that way. The sooner they could get through this job, the better.
“You know, little brother, you could use a haircut.”
He goes from one complaint about me to another. Brad’s hand rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not that bad. But my barber retired, so I’ll have to find someone soon.” Brad swirled the chili around in his bowl.
“I go to that place behind the bakery you said you visited this morning. It’s called the Peaches & Cream Salon. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the best place in town. You ought to check it out,” Brianna said.
Brad turned to Ryan. “Do you go there?”
He shook his head. “I go to a shop near the courthouse. But that’s out of your way.”
Brad thought a moment and nodded. “Maybe I’ll do that.” Thankful to talk about anything but his love life, Brad made a mental note to check out the salon.
Callie looked at her client’s cranberry-polished nails. “That’s it, Mrs. Frantz. You’re free to go.”
“Thank you, dear.” The old woman stuffed a ten-dollar tip into Callie’s hand, then hobbled out the door.
“What is she, three hundred years old by now?” Jessica asked, opening a box and examining the contents.
“Jessica, shh—she will hear you.”
“Her?” Jessica asked, pointing. “That woman hasn’t heard anything since 1973. She’s got pretty nails, though, I’ll give her that.”
Callie suppressed a giggle and began to clean her manicure station. “You’d better behave yourself or Aunt Bonnie will get you.”
“Yeah, right. I’ve seen puppies more fierce than her on her worst day.”
Everyone knew Aunt Bonnie was as sweet as they came.
Jessica glanced at her watch. “You sure you can cover for me while I take Mom to the doctor?”
“Absolutely. You go ahead and go.” Callie looked at the box of new inventory. “Hey, didn’t we get another box of the setting gel?”
“Yeah, a small one. It’s in the back room,” Jessica said, without looking up.
“Great. Let me get that before you take off.”
“No problem.”
As Callie walked into the back room, she heard the front door swoosh open. A man’s voice said someone had recommended he come to the salon for a haircut.
“It just so happens there’s a stylist in the back who can help you. Go ahead and take a seat by the wash basin.” Jessica popped into the back room. “You have a customer.” She raised her eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “Too bad I have to leave.”
Callie rolled her eyes and walked past her toward the front. Facing the back of the customer’s head, Callie pulled product from the shelf.
“So, this is your first time here?” she asked, working the shampoo into his hair.
“Uh-huh.” His words vibrated as her fingers massaged his scalp.
He didn’t offer anything else, so Callie let her mind meander while she finished the job. Once she rinsed away the bubbles, she flipped up his chair and towel-dried his hair.
“If you’ll follow me,” she said, leading the way to her cutting station.
He settled into his seat. She swiveled him around to face the mirror. That’s when they saw each other for the first time. Callie’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. By the look of Brad Sharp, she would say he wasn’t doing any better.
“I, uh, my sister-in-law told me to come here. I didn’t know you worked here. My barber retired, I needed a place—”
The way his words tumbled into one another might have been funny if she wasn’t still mad at him for his behavior on the job.
She swung the scissors toward him, opening and closing them a couple of times for good measure. He squirmed in his seat, which satisfied her immensely.
“My aunt and uncle own this place. This is where I work.” Snip, snip, snip. He had nice hair. Really didn’t need much of a cut, but guys like him kept their hair groomed to perfection.
“Listen, ab
out this morning—”
“Yes?” She stopped and stared at him through the mirror. She kept the scissors poised and dangerously close to his ear. Clint Eastwood’s words played in her head. “Go ahead, make my day.”
“I’m sorry if I came across too harsh.”
Well, she hadn’t seen that one coming. Snip, snip, snip. “Don’t worry about it. You did what you had to do.”
She could feel him looking at her and glanced at him through the mirror.
“Thanks.” It was all he said, but the way he said it sent a slow tingle that started at the top of her spine and shimmied all the way down.
“So how did you get into construction?” she asked, warmth spreading through her fingers as they brushed the back of his neck and feathered through his hair.
“I’ve been at it for as long as I can remember. I’ve worked overseas, building homes for the poor.”
She stopped cutting and looked up at him. “Really?” Her toppled knight in shining armor was quickly regaining his position on the white horse.
They discussed the Make a Home project when suddenly a telephone call on his cell phone cut their conversation short. Thankfully, she had finished his hair before he had to go. He paid for his trim and bounded out of the salon as quickly as his legs could carry him.
She couldn’t help wondering what had really brought him to their salon.
Chapter Three
Brianna and Ryan were in this together. Someone was going to pay.
Brad peeled out of the parking lot faster than he had intended. The last thing he wanted was for Callie to witness his little outburst. He was thankful a caller with a wrong number gave him an excuse to leave.
“I don’t believe she did this to me.” One glance at the speedometer told him he’d better settle down or he’d be standing before the judge. At the first stoplight, he picked up his cell phone and hit speed dial.
“Hello?” Ryan said with disgusting innocence.
“You set me up,” Brad snapped.
“What are you talking about?”