“Snap out of it,” he mumbled as he hammered the support two-by-four that would hold the new pantry shelf.
“Did you say something?” Maurie asked.
He turned to see her standing in the kitchen doorway. Her skin gleamed pink from her shower, making her eyes more green than brown. Her hair was still wet with small water droplets marking the shoulders of her long sleeved shirt. She wore ratty jeans with holes at the knees, the jeans fitting her curves as if they’d been painted on.
Oh boy. “Uh, I should have warned you,” he said, swallowing hard. “I talk to myself when I work.”
“Hmm,” Maurie said. “I’ll be sure to stay close by then.” She crossed to where he was working and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her touch was like a mini-heater on his skin. “Did you and your son hook up Facetime?”
“Yes. He loved it, and I loved seeing his face while we talked. Well, I sort of hated it, too, because it made me miss him more. But now I don’t have to go through Joy every time I want to get in touch with my kid.”
“Good,” Maurie said, squeezing his shoulder slightly, then moving away. “I’m glad it worked out.”
“Me, too,” Grant said and watched her walk out of the kitchen, the feel of her hand on his shoulder still lingering. Then he went back to work before he allowed himself to get even more distracted.
Chapter Five
While Grant was working in the kitchen, Maurie texted Taffy. Just a warning. An old friend of mine is doing repair work on the house. Grant Shelton. And I’m only going to tell you once. I’m not interested in him.
Her phone rang thirty seconds later.
“Grant Shelton?” Taffy practically shouted. “The neighbor guy who used to mow your lawn when your mom was gone?”
Maurie groaned. She’d told Taffy about everything in her past, and apparently that had included everything about Grant, too.
“Is he still drop-dead gorgeous?” Taffy pressed.
“Is that how I described him?” Maurie asked.
“Pretty much.” Taffy laughed. “So what’s his story? Is he married?”
“Divorced, with a kid. Custody battle. And he’s still gorgeous, but before you say anything, he’s like a million miles away emotionally, and no… I’m not interested. When I start dating again, it’s going to be someone with no baggage. I have enough on my own for two.”
Taffy scoffed. “Yeah, good luck with that, Maurie. I mean, I love you, but you’re twenty-seven. What are you going to do, marry a twenty-year-old? Every man your age will have baggage. And if they haven’t been married or in a serious relationship, then you probably don’t want anything to do with them.”
This was not the first lecture Maurie had received from Taffy. “Okay, okay, when you put it like that…” her voice trailed off.
“When I put it like what? Are you admitting that you’re still attracted to Mr. Hot Guy?”
“Don’t call him that. I mean, he’s a dad.”
“Oh my heck, girl, you’ve still got it for him,” Taffy said, delight in her voice. “I can’t wait to meet him. Which will be, incidentally, in about seven hours.”
Maurie leaned back against the pillows in her bed, where she’d sequestered herself with her laptop to input her recent orders. Grant was still working in the kitchen, replacing a couple of broken tiles on the floor. He was like a renaissance man, but she didn’t need to tell Taffy that.
“I can’t wait to see you,” Maurie said. “I think this will feel real once you’re here, and we can start moving everything into the shop.”
Once she hung up with Taffy, Maurie listened for a few minutes to the sound of whatever high pitched drill Grant was using. Curiosity got the better of her. Climbing off her bed, she checked her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Her hair had dried in a riot of curls, so she smoothed it back and knotted it into a ponytail.
She found Grant in the living room, removing screws from the dark wood paneling that lined the walls. He’d taken off the flannel shirt he’d worn over a navy t-shirt. His forearms were strangely tanned for the middle of winter, and not so strangely muscled. She blinked to clear her mind of the memory of his hug yesterday.
“You’re taking the paneling off?” she asked, when there was a short break in the noise. “I thought you were going to paint over it.”
He bent to the floor and picked up one of the panel pieces. When he turned it over, she saw the black on the other side.
“I think it’s mold,” he said. “But it looks like it’s only embedded on the paneling and not the walls.”
“Oh, wow,” she said. “I’m glad you caught that.”
“With material this old, I have to check,” Grant said. He scanned the rest of the room, and then his gaze settled on hers. “If you need help taking all your boxes to the shop, I’ve got a truck.”
“Well, that would be nice, but my friend Taffy is arriving tonight. We’ll probably rent a trailer.”
Grant lifted a single brow. “Since I have to remove the paneling, I was thinking you and I could take a truck load over today. I mean, it’s a bit crowded in here.”
“Yeah.” Boxes were everywhere, and she couldn’t really expect him to work when there was hardly room to walk. “But I don’t want to put you out. And I’m not sure if I can really move stuff into the shop until I officially close.”
“Why don’t you call the realtor? Is it Jeff Finch?”
“Yeah, do you know him?”
Grant smiled. “It’s Pine Valley. We go back a ways. Let me know what he says.” He turned back to the next part of the panel and started up his drill again.
Well, then. Grant was a bit bossy, it seemed, she decided. But she’d hired him to do the renovations, so she returned to her bedroom, shut the door and called the realtor. Mr. Finch told her to stop by his office for the key on her way over there.
“I just won’t be able to let you keep the key,” he added. “You’ll have to bring it back after you’re finished.”
“No problem,” she told the realtor. “Thanks for this. Grant needs the room to work on the house.”
“I get it. How’s he doing, by the way?”
“Fine, I think.” The turn in the conversation surprised her. Things with Mr. Finch had never veered toward personal before. “Should I be worried about him?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, I’m sure. He’s cancelled on everything that we’ve tried to set up with the guys. We go way back to high school, and since his divorce, we’ve tried to reach out to him, but no dice.”
“He mentioned some frustrations with the custody issues over his son. But I don’t know him that well.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Mr. Finch said. “Don’t mean to get you involved.”
After she hung up, she stood and paused in the middle of her bedroom. If Grant had isolated himself from pretty much everyone, he probably wasn’t dating. The thought made her feel fluttery and guilty at the same time. Fluttery that he was available, guilty because he seemed to be under a lot of stress.
She walked into the living room, and when he saw her, he turned off the drill.
“The realtor gave us the green light,” she said. “We just need to pick up the key from his office.”
“Great,” Grant said, setting down the drill. “Which boxes do you want to go first?”
“Now?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“All right, then.” She looked around the room. “Everything in this room goes, except for the baskets. I’ll be doing some orders over the weekend.”
“Great,” he said, then picked up a double set of boxes.
Maurie opened the door for him and then went to grab her jacket. He might be able to stand the cold, but it seemed to go straight through her.
Twenty minutes later, the bed of his truck was loaded with boxes, and while she was trying to catch her breath, he closed the tailgate, and then jumped into the truck.
She climbed in, noticing that he didn’t look the least bit winded. He wasn’t
even perspiring, and he was still in his t-shirt. Which meant Maurie couldn’t let herself stare at him too long. Apparently her teen crush hadn’t completely died. She was just glad he wasn’t married anymore; it would have been even more awkward crushing on him.
“How did you get into gift basket sales?” he asked.
Maurie leaned back on the seat and said, “Probably something to do with my foster mom. Not only was she a fabulous chef, she always put together the most amazing presentations for neighbor gifts and fundraisers.”
“So you’re a dot.com, too?”
“Yeah, but Taffy will do most of the online stuff now, and I’ll focus on the retail location. Taffy isn’t a hundred percent sure she wants to live in Pine Valley forever. I’m hoping to convert her, but she’s the type who wants to get married and have a bunch of kids.”
“And you aren’t?” Grant treated Maurie to an endearing blush. “I mean,” he backtracked, “that didn’t quite turn out right.”
“It’s okay.” Maurie was certain she was starting to blush as well. “I suppose if it happens, it happens. But if there’s one thing I learned in my months of therapy, it’s to be happy wherever I am. Happiness comes from my choices in life, and not worrying about what is beyond my control.”
He looked over at her. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
She was definitely blushing now. “And you have way more energy than I’ll ever have.”
“Working hard keeps my mind off the other stuff.”
“I completely get that,” she said, and it was true.
He slowed the truck in front of the realtor’s office, and she said, “I’ll grab the key.” She jumped out of the truck as Mr. Finch came out of the front door of the office.
He held up the key as he walked toward the truck. “Hello, Maurie,” he said, then peered around her. “Grant. How’s it going?”
“Keeping busy, Jeff. How about you?”
“Work. The usual. Are you up for the ski trip next weekend?”
“About that…” Grant said in a hesitant voice. “I might be seeing Trent, so I’d better not commit to anything.”
“No problem. If you change your mind, even at the last minute, we’ll have room for you.”
The two men said goodbye, and soon Grant and Maurie were on their way again.
“So you ski?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, and then grew quiet.
“You didn’t seem too excited about making plans with Mr. Finch,” she asked after a few moments.
“Call him Jeff,” Grant said, sounding exasperated. “He’s hardly Mr. Finch.” He paused. “Sorry, I’m just not… Well, I was married, and I really don’t feel like I fit into the single life anymore. I mean, skiing all day, then going to the bar and picking up women isn’t really on my priority list.”
Jeff Finch was a good-looking man, though not someone she was really attracted to, and she hadn’t considered what his personal life might be like. But what else did handsome, single men do on the weekends?
“I’m way past high school, if you know what I mean,” Grant added.
“I never really got the regular high school experience,” she said, her face heating for some unknown reason.
“Yeah, and I’m sorry for that,” he said. “I wish things could have been different for you.”
She looked at him with surprise as he slowed the truck once more, this time stopping at the corner shop that was soon to be hers.
“We can’t all get what we wish for,” she said in an overly bright voice.
He didn’t make a move to open his door. Instead he said, “What did you wish for, Maurie?”
She looked away from his blue gaze, down at her clasped hands. “A mom who’d cared about me.” Blinking against the building tears, she said, “In the end, I did get that. Even if for only a couple of years, and even if she wasn’t my biological mom. I was lucky for the time I had with her.” She brushed at her cheeks. “Sorry, this moving stuff has made me unusually emotional.”
“It’s okay,” Grant said. “I get it. Changes can be really hard.”
“Come on,” she said, and this time Grant turned off the engine and popped open the door.
They climbed out, and she unlocked the door to the shop, then propped the door open with one of the boxes. Grant carried boxes two at a time, while she only managed one. The work went fast, and when they finished Grant stood, his hands on his hips. “This is the place, huh?”
The shop had been cleaned out by the previous owners. But there was some trash on the ground, and the main counter was in a sorry state. It had been a clothing boutique. Framed posters of models had been taken down, leaving a dingy outline on the taupe walls. Maurie had already decided to paint the walls a soft yellow to give a warm and friendly ambience.
“What are your plans?” Grant asked, coming to stand beside her.
And she knew he wasn’t asking out of politeness. As she told him of her design ideas, he nodded along the way, asking a few questions and even throwing in some feedback. The more she talked, the more she realized how easy he was to talk to. He really listened, he didn’t act as if he was in a hurry, and he didn’t take over the conversation. In other words, he was the complete opposite of her last boyfriend, Brandon. At first she’d chalked it up to Brandon’s busy schedule with his software start-up. But even when they spent a weekend on vacation together, he’d still been so self-involved, she had felt like a decoration at his side.
When she and Grant left the shop, the excitement of finally having her own shop buzzed through her. The guests at the Pine Valley ski lodges would find a great variety of gifts in her shop and wouldn’t have to rely on packing what they needed for special celebrations. And the items she offered would be more unique and desirable than the touristy items offered in gimmicky lodge stores.
They walked outside, and Maurie locked the shop door. Mr. Finch had told her to bring the key back in a couple of days, so for now she’d keep it. Grant opened the truck passenger door for her, and she said, “Thanks,” before climbing in. Then she said, “How are you not cold?”
He shrugged those muscled shoulders. “I run hot, I guess.”
Yes. Maurie watched him walk around the front of the truck, silently agreeing with him one-hundred percent.
Chapter Six
When Grant arrived at Maurie’s house the next morning, another car was parked in her driveway. He assumed it was her friend Taffy’s car, and when he knocked on the door a minute later, it opened to a blonde woman.
She was a petite woman with a huge smile. “You must be Grant.”
“Yep, and you must be Taffy.”
She laughed. This woman seemed pretty peppy, if he were to go on first impression.
“Come on in,” she said. “I’ve got the coffee on.” Then she gave him a wink.
Grant wasn’t sure exactly how to take that. He’d met this woman all of ten seconds ago.
“Maurie slept in,” Taffy continued their one-sided conversation. “She’ll be out in a minute. She was up half the night looking at those blasted photo albums of her grandparents. I told her not to, but would she listen to me? No. Now she’ll be all weepy today.”
“Weepy?” Grant asked, a knot forming in his stomach. Should he not have brought the albums down from the attic?
“Well, don’t tell her I told you anything. But she’s worked really hard to get over her crappy childhood. And I don’t want those albums to send her back to that dark place, if you know what I mean?”
She didn’t give Grant time to respond, not that he knew what to say. His mind was trying to compute all that Taffy was saying.
“I’m so glad you’re renovating this place,” Taffy continued. “It looks like a dump, and that can’t be good for Maurie’s morale either.”
Grant opened his mouth to speak, but then the coffee timer went off.
“Perfect,” Taffy said, flashing him a stunning smile.
If Grant were into talkative blondes,
he might find her fairly attractive. But as it was, he already knew his thoughts were otherwise occupied with a dark-haired lady, if his restless sleep last night was any indication.
Taffy took out two mugs and poured the fragrant coffee. “Don’t tell Maurie, but I made this straight-up black. You can add some sugar or cream if you’d like. Maurie likes to add flavors and other fancy stuff.” Taffy waved to a row of bottles lined up on the counter that Grant hadn’t seen the day before.
“Black is fine,” he said, taking the steaming mug.
She grinned at him in a familiar way that left him wondering if there was some inside joke he was missing.
He took a careful sip of the hot liquid, and Taffy said, “Well, look at you. All handsome and rugged.”
He nearly spat out the sip he’d taken.
“What?” Irritated, he couldn’t tell if she was flirting, or if she just thought he was her instant best friend. He could imagine her working at a trucker’s diner, calling everyone “hon” or “sweetheart.”
She took a slow sip of her coffee, her gaze locked on him. “I’m sure you know what you look like, and I’m sure you’ve got a lot of ladies in your back pocket.”
“Uh,” Grant started, utterly dumbfounded. The coffee was suddenly way too bitter. And he was not in the least prepared for this onslaught this morning. But he had lived long enough to know that it needed to stop, now. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I’m not a player, if that’s what you’re asking. And we’re not hooking up.”
Taffy’s eyes practically bugged out as she raised her brows. And then she burst out laughing.
Grant couldn’t move. This was perhaps the strangest and nuttiest woman he’d ever met.
She lifted a finger to point at him, still laughing so hard she could barely speak. Then she finally burst out, “You’re a gem, Grant Shelton. You have my 110% approval.”
“Taffy!” a voice came from the hallway. Seconds later Maurie joined them in the kitchen looking as if she’d just tumbled out of bed. Not that Grant was complaining. Her fitted t-shirt had a row of Z’s on it, and her PJ bottoms hung low on her hips.
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