Ryler tried to concentrate on her directions. “It’s not on the way home either way.”
“We can set up a box here or my husband can help you at the Romance office, or you might want to put up a mailbox at your house.”
“Your husband works at the Romance office?” Married? Was he an uncle?
“He’s the postmaster there. I used to work there, too, but as things developed, I transferred.” She blushed.
Her coloring was different from his. Her hair a coppery brown, while his was quite a bit darker, a shade or two from black. Her eyes were blue, while his were green. But there was something about her smile. Something he’d seen in the mirror.
She frowned, obviously uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Maybe you should check with my husband.”
Did she think he was hitting on her? Ryler grinned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. You seem familiar to me.”
“I had the same thought about you. Are you from around here?”
“I’ve lived my whole life in”—he hesitated, considering a lie—“Little Rock.” Would she figure it out? Did he want her to? Did she even know he existed?
“I used to live in Little Rock. Maybe we ran into each other there.” She visibly relaxed then snapped her fingers. “I know. You were working at my parents’ home a few months ago. Martin and Sylvie Kroft in Searcy. I’m Laken Winters.”
His gut clenched. “You have a good memory. Ryler Grant.”
She’d waved to him and he’d ignored her, assuming she and the man with her were just another pair of snooty visitors and she had been doing her good deed of the day by acknowledging the hired help. Only later did he learn from the Krofts’ young, flirty neighbor that they were Laken and Collin Kroft—he had a sister and a brother.
“I think I’ll go ahead and get a box here.” The perfect way to get to know Laken without her knowing who he was.
“Sure.” She handed him a form. “Just fill this out. You can do it now or take it with you if you want.” She rattled off the box sizes and prices.
He’d better go before he got her suspicious again. What if she heard he’d been asking around town about her? “I appreciate your help. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Have a nice day.” She turned back to her work.
Forcing his feet to move, he headed toward the lobby.
Shell strolled in, her platinum hair blowing in the slight breeze. A strand fell across her eyes. His fingertips tingled, longing to brush it away from her face. Of all the leggy blondes he’d known, this one was dangerous. He should have taken her offer. Reneged on the job and run as fast as he could. Far away.
“Hello again.”
“Hey.” He stepped back out of her way.
Her flowery-citrus perfume filled his senses. The perfume he’d bought her. He’d thought he caught a whiff of it at the soon-to-be B & B but decided it was his imagination. But no. She was definitely wearing the perfume he’d bought her. What did that mean?
“Shell Evans?” Laken cried.
Her nearness sank into his bones.
“Laken Kroft.”
“Winters now. I got married last February.”
“Don’t tell me.” Shell rolled her eyes. “Married in Romance on Valentine’s Day.”
“Guilty.” Laken laughed. “What about you?”
“I’ve never married.”
Ryler swallowed hard.
Both women looked at him, as if wondering what he was still doing there.
Spying. That’s what. On both of them. He laid the form on the counter and grabbed the pen waiting there. “I decided since there’s not much to it, I’ll fill it out here.”
“What about you, Ryler?” Laken raised an eyebrow.
He cleared his throat. “What about me?”
“Are you married? Any kids?”
Typical happily married female. She’d just met him and was trying to fix him up with her buddy. She didn’t know his heart had already experienced Shell Evans and never recovered. “Nope. I guess y’all know each other.”
“Laken and I went to the same school in Searcy.” Shell’s laugh dripped sarcasm. “Though in decidedly different circles.”
“I never paid any attention to circles.” Laken smiled.
“My boss, Darrell Norton, set up a P.O. box for me.” Sarcasm gone, still Shell’s frigid tone could chill a cold-house rose. “I’m supposed to pick up the key.”
“Sure.” Laken bent to search under her counter. “So, let me introduce y’all.”
Ryler concentrated on filling out the form, as if he wasn’t listening to their conversation.
“Too late. My boss hired Ryler to transform the grounds at the Darden-Gifford House. We’re renovating it into a bed-and-breakfast.”
“Oh, I’ve always loved that place.” Laken handed her the key. “What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m supposed to be an apartment manager, but when my boss has a new project going, I play remodeling supervisor and interior decorator, too.”
He gripped the pen tighter until his fingers turned white. Darrell was never far from Shell.
Turning toward the exit, Shell waved. “I’ll see you around, Laken. And, Ryler, I’ll see you bright and early.”
As the door closed behind Shell, Laken propped her elbows on the counter. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
Ryler swallowed but couldn’t find his tongue.
“She’s not married—you’re not married.”
He held both hands up, palms facing her. “I’m not looking to get married.”
“I don’t think she has a very high opinion of herself.”
“Why? She’s gorgeous.”
Laken pointed at him. “I knew you thought she was pretty.”
He cleared his throat and handed her the completed form. “On that note, I think I’ll go.”
“Hang on. Here’s your key.” She handed it to him.
“Thanks.” He hurried out.
Yes, Shell was as beautiful as she’d ever been.
And Darrell was still part of her picture. He’d always seemed overly concerned for her when Ryler had worked the golf course in Searcy.
Had things progressed between them? Was Darrell housing his mistress in Rose Bud?
What did it matter? Things with Shell were long over. But his bruised heart didn’t know it yet. And right now, he needed to concentrate on the Krofts.
“You taking up residence up here?” Darrell’s voice came from behind Shell.
Standing a few feet from the balcony railing, she inhaled a deep breath but didn’t turn to face him. “It’s peaceful.”
And on this project, she needed lots of peace.
“Just don’t lean on the railing again.” Darrell tucked Shell’s hand in his elbow. “Let’s officially tour this treasure.”
That being-watched feeling crept up her spine. Her gaze canvassed the lawn.
Ryler’s stare bored a hole through them as he squatted amidst a pile of rocks and potting soil.
Shell turned away and opened the door. With the musty smell carried away by the breeze, she inspected the house more thoroughly. Propping her chin on one fist, she surveyed the landing flanked by twin bedrooms with plank walls and floors. A few bits of aged wallpaper and scraps of dingy newspapers covered the walls, with glimpses of insulation between the wood.
“The closets line an entire wall. We’ll cut them in half and expand out to install a bathroom in each room.”
Ugly metal flues jutted from the wall in each room. “Please tell me you don’t plan on putting in woodstoves.”
“I’d like to, but it wouldn’t be very feasible. Central heat and air work much better.”
“We could find black iron potbellied stoves with electric logs for looks.”
“Now you’re getting a feel for the place.”
Sheetrock and carpet would get this place in order. But Darrell wanted the house restored, not remodeled.
“I want the original wall planking sanded,
and the cracks between each piece of wood filled. At some point there was paneling, which left all the nail holes. Those will have to be filled, too, and then the natural wood can be polyurethaned.”
A fresh coat of neutral paint would save the wide, baby pink baseboards. The paneled walls in the landing could be stripped to their original wood, leaving more nail holes and cracks to fill.
Darrell opened the door opposite from the balcony to reveal narrow steps. Flipping on the light, he gestured her ahead of him.
Shell climbed to the attic. The long room boasted the fancy window above the balcony. “Plenty of room to add a closet and another bath.”
“I figure the only bathroom downstairs in the entry can serve as a communal powder room for all guests, but we’ll need another for the staff.”
She ticked off each one on her fingers. “How many bathrooms do you plan to add?”
“Three upstairs, one in the attic, one in the downstairs bedroom, and one for staff. Space won’t be a problem since each room is rather large.”
No. Just time.
A fast plumber. Was there such a thing?
Oh, why had she let Darrell talk her into this project?
Because if not for Darrell and Eva, Shell might have ended up like her mother.
“That’s all up here.” Darrell ushered her in front of him.
Shell led the way down from the attic and down the main staircase.
The lone bedroom downstairs was the largest. Plenty of room for the proposed bathroom. She strolled through the spacious, once fancy living room.
“See the transom windows over the doors? All original for circulation. The fireplace is original, too.”
The blackened fireplace needed to be torn out and replaced, but Darrell would never agree. She continued into the dining room with the large bay window and faded white wainscot and into the large kitchen with ancient cabinets.
“We’ll cut off part of the pantry for a staff bathroom. The original pump is out on the screened porch.” Darrell opened a door off the dining room to reveal a narrow stairway.
Servants’ quarters. She climbed the passageway to a bedroom. With no hallway, she had to walk through the first room to get to the second identical one. Scraps of newspaper covered the walls in the second room. Squinting, she made out a date: February 1, 1890. Closets lined the dividing wall in each room, back to back.
“Why are there newspapers on the walls?”
“To keep the wind from blowing through the cracks. They didn’t have insulation back then. It was blown in later.”
Shell shivered. “Glad I didn’t live back then.”
“You’re definitely not the rough-it type.” Darrell grinned. “There’s really no way to put in a hallway, so this will be a suite. This first room will be a sitting area. The closets are back to back, so we’ll take part of both for the bathroom, and expand out into each room a bit. The second room will be the bedroom.”
“It all sounds doable. You’ve thought of everything.”
“So how are the Chance withdrawals?”
She swallowed hard. “Doable. Barely.”
“Tell me again why he’s not with you.”
“You know why.”
“I’ve heard your reasons, but as much as you love him, he should be with you. You’re his mother.”
“Savannah is his mother.”
“She’s his aunt. You’re his mother.”
“She’s his legal guardian. Why can’t you see he’s better off with Savannah and Jake? This way, he’s got a good life with two stable parents.” Without me. Without the specter of his father.
She descended the stairwell, retracing her path to the front entryway. Halfway through the living room, a hand clamped over her elbow.
Gently, Darrell turned her to face him. “I just don’t—”
The front door opened and Ryler stepped inside the foyer.
Her breath caught.
Darrell let go of her.
Ryler cleared his throat. “Darrell, when you get a minute, I need to compare notes with you on the fountains.”
Not wanting to get any closer to Ryler, she turned sideways to let Darrell pass. “You go ahead. We’re done.”
“I’m meeting Eva for lunch, so I’ll have to head back to Searcy soon.”
“It won’t take long.” Ryler backed out and Darrell followed.
Blowing out a deep breath, Shell hugged herself. Close encounters of the Ryler kind.
The balcony beckoned and Shell stepped out the windowed door. Standing in the middle, away from the railing, she listened to the constant squeals and giggles from the steady stream of toddlers next door. She hugged herself. Next door wasn’t just a house. It was an in-home day care.
Day two of trying to avoid Ryler. All morning, she’d directed carpenters, picked replacement glass, and chosen a just-right white paint for the siding. Several men on scaffolding surrounded the house, measuring, prying rotted wood, sanding cracked paint, and scraping old caulk from window frames.
Her gaze kept drifting to Ryler as he unloaded sack after sack of potting soil and mulch. He heaved another bag and the muscles in his arms rippled. Oh, the feel of those arms around her. She shivered. It would have been easier on them both if he’d had his products delivered in bulk, but Darrell didn’t want enormous piles in the carpenters’ way.
After dumping his load in the pile near the house, Ryler turned and caught her eye.
Busted.
He pushed dark chocolate waves out of his face. “When you get a chance, I need you to choose plants and tell me where the beds will go.”
“I don’t know a thing about plants.”
“No problem. I do.”
No grin, no expression. The most animated she’d seen him so far was yesterday at the post office. Did he have a thing for married women? Or was it only Shell he shut down with?
“Can you come up here?”
“Sure.” He grabbed something from his truck and jogged toward the house.
Working side by side with Ryler, picking plants, edging, and fountains. Would she be capable of rational thought as they hovered over catalogs, their heads huddled close together, while her heart leapt around like a giddy teenager? He’s just a man.
Within minutes, he strolled out onto the balcony and shoved a catalog at her. “This will help. I’ll need you to choose what kind of edging you want, too. I like using lots of native rocks throughout the beds. It gives a masculine look and not all B&B visitors will be women.”
Don’t think about how his hand almost touched hers just then. “Good point. What about water fountains? Darrell wants one on each side of the house.”
“They’re in the back of the catalog. Who’s that?”
Shell looked up from the catalog and he gestured toward the long drive leading to the house.
A couple crossed the street. The man carried a casserole dish and a plant, while the woman pushed a stroller.
Great, shove a baby in her face. Shell rolled her eyes. “Probably the welcoming committee from the church.”
“Pack of do-gooders.”
At least they were like-minded on one issue. “I wish they’d stay on their side of the road.”
“Me, too, but we better make nice. They could be potential customers.”
By the time Shell and Ryler made it downstairs, the couple was almost to the porch.
Shell got a better look at the woman and stifled a gasp.
Chapter 2
Welcome to Rose Bud.” The man set the plant on the porch rail and stuck his hand toward Ryler. Luckily this rail was sturdier than the one upstairs.
The two men shook hands.
“Miss Evans, I’m not sure if you’ll remember, but I’m Pastor Grayson Sterling and this is my wife, Adrea.”
Grayson Sterling? Sara Sterling’s husband. A chill crept down Shell’s spine. The last time she’d seen him, they were nine and she’d dubbed him the preacher’s brat.
“Hi, Shell, it’s good to see
you.” Adrea smiled. “We brought you a plant from the floral shop. I hope you like white tulips.”
Beneath all her sweetness and light, accusation dwelled in Adrea’s gaze.
Killed with fake kindness by the woman whose fiancé Shell had once stolen. She wasn’t sure she had the stomach to play this game. Mustering up a fake smile, she took the terra-cotta pot. “Thank you.”
“You can plant them this fall if you like.” Adrea gestured toward the dish. “Grayson’s sister is a caterer, so she made the sandwiches. There’s enough for the entire crew. Probably tomorrow, too, if you keep them refrigerated.”
Ryler frowned. “Don’t we need to pay you?”
“Not at all.” Grayson waved away the suggestion. “Sis catered a big wedding last night and brought us a few leftovers.”
“We’ll certainly put them to good use.” Ryler grinned. “Much obliged.”
“I’ve always loved this place.” Adrea surveyed the house. “So, you and your husband are overseeing the work?”
“We’re not married.” Shell and Ryler echoed one another.
“Oh.” Adrea blushed.
“I’m the landscaper. Ryler Grant. Shell lives in the apartment. By herself.”
Awfully intent on having nothing to do with her other than work.
“I’m so sorry. I saw you both up on the balcony and assumed…”
“We were discussing beds.” Shell’s tongue tangled. “I mean—flower beds.”
“How fun. I own the floral shop in Romance, so, Ryler, if you’ll stop by, I’ll give you my wholesaler’s card. They’re very reasonable.”
“Great. Hey, maybe you could help Shell with your flower knowledge.”
“That’s not necessary.” Shell swallowed. Adrea’s brand of perky set her teeth on edge.
“But you don’t know a thing about flowers and if Mrs. Sterling helped, I could concentrate on the fountains, edging, and soil.”
Less time spent together. And get this job done quicker. But working with Adrea? Or Ryler? Adrea? Ryler? Adrea?
“I’d love to help.” A wail emerged from the stroller and Adrea scooped the baby up, a poof of pink ruffles, a shock of dark hair, and an angry red face. She nuzzled in her mother’s arms and calmed. “Unfortunately, it’s almost time for Ashley’s nap and then I have errands to run. I’m working the rest of the week, but I could stop by early next week.”
ARKANSAS WEDDINGS: THREE-IN-ONE COLLECTION Page 35