“What’s on the agenda?” he asked brusquely. “Dinner. I’m taking you to dinner.”
Marcia frowned. Was he asking her to dinner, with the expectation she would say yes, because she owed him? The prospect troubled her. But if he had expected something from her in return for him purchasing the paint, it only made sense he would have told her he’d purchased the paint in the first place. The truth was, he had done his best to keep it a secret from her. Definitely not the actions of someone with ulterior motives.
Ethan noticed the perplexed expression on her face. She looked as if she was struggling to sort something out in her head. “Did you even eat lunch today?” he demanded. “You look a little wobbly.”
“No. I wanted to get as much painting done as possible before you got home.”
“You need food. We’re going to dinner,” he said, and promptly escorted her home. At her door, he said, “Dress comfortably, because I am.” He tugged at his collar again. “I can’t wait to get out of this monkey suit.”
“Okay,” she said dubiously. “Okay.”
“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” he told her, and strode off toward his house. As promised, he returned in a half hour and found Marcia dressed and ready to go.
“I hope I’m not too casual,” she said of her shorts and t-shirt.
“You’re perfect,” he said, gesturing toward his own shorts and t-shirt. “What are you hungry for?”
“I could really go for a cheeseburger,” she told him, her mouth watering at the prospect of food. It really hadn’t been very smart of her to forgo lunch, since she was feeling rather depleted.
Ethan took her arm and led her to his truck. “Does Dairy Queen sound all right to you? I like the restaurant up on MacArthur Boulevard.”
“Sounds great,” she told him.
Soon the couple was ensconced in a booth, awaiting their order. A waitress appeared and gave them their diet sodas. “Thanks, Renee,” Ethan said.
“You bet, Ethan,” the petite brunette said, before hurrying off.
“She’s the daughter of a friend of mine,” he told Marcia.
In no time, their burger baskets were placed in front of them, along with a selection of condiments. “Anything else I can get you?” Renee asked.
“Everything looks great,” Ethan told her.
Marcia was first to taste the food. “This is so good,” she enthused. “I didn’t realize how hungry I am.”
Ethan acknowledged her words by taking a bite of his burger. “They make the best burgers in town,” he declared.
After they’d eaten for a moment or two, he put his food down and pinned her with earnest blue eyes. “Now, you and I need to talk.”
“Okay,” she said, fully up to the challenge, now that she had nourishment in her body. She knew he was probably about to argue with her about her plan to work off the money she owed him, but she would not be deterred.
“Look,” he began, as if searching for the right words, “when I bought that paint, I didn’t do it because I had some idea it would put you in a position of indebtedness to me. I had hoped you would never find out.”
Marcia sighed, meeting his gaze. “But I do know you bought the paint, and as much as I appreciate what you did for me—and please know that I do—I simply cannot let you bail me out like that.”
“But it wasn’t your mistake,” he pointed out.
“Well, it certainly wasn’t yours.”
He sighed loudly. “Look, at risk of sounding like an arrogant blowhard, intent on, well, blowing my own horn, I can afford the money.” He raised his right hand. “I promise. I won’t even miss it.”
Marcia nodded. “That’s good, but also irrelevant,” she said. “It wasn’t your responsibility to spend that money to get me out of a bind.”
“I used to be a small business owner,” he told her. “I understand how a financial hit like that can mean the end of a start-up business. I didn’t want to see you fold, when you’re doing so well.”
“Again, that’s so good of you, but not your responsibility.” She sighed. “Ethan, it’s simple. I have to pay you back. And since I don’t have the money, I can work off the debt if you’ll let me.”
“I’m not going to let you kill yourself off remodeling my place,” he said adamantly, shaking his head. “You have enough to do.”
They sat in silence for a long moment. “What did you do with the mustard yellow paint?” Marcia asked finally.
He smiled. “I donated most of it to a charitable organization that fixes up homes for needy families.”
She made a face. “Did they actually see the paint color? They probably think you don’t like them, foisting that particular color on them.”
He smiled again. “They’ll recycle it—add a dollop or two of various hues in order to change it. They’ll make it work.” Suddenly, he perked up. “Hey, that donation is a tax write-off, so you know. Looking at it from that angle, you don’t owe me anything.”
“Yes, I do,” she insisted.
He sat quietly for a moment, his eyes fixed on her face. She squirmed under his intense scrutiny. “Okay, you can buy me dessert,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze, infusing her hand with warmth and causing her heart to give an erratic thump.
She glanced down at their entwined hands and cleared her throat. She found something had lodged there. Hesitantly meeting his eyes, she saw some emotion in them she couldn’t readily identify. Was it affection? For her?
She almost laughed out loud. Thanks to Jay, she decided she wouldn’t know it if she saw it. Affection. Sad but true. And if she indeed saw the feeling in Ethan’s eyes, how would she know it was genuine? She’d been fooled before.
Forcing away the thoughts, she attempted a smile. “Dessert is definitely on me,” she said, gently extracting her hand from his. “Order anything you want.”
Chapter Eighteen
“How’s your neighbor?” Thomas asked Ethan, as he taped a large piece of drywall in the living room of the bungalow.
Ethan glanced at his brother-in-law. “She’s all right,” he said with a sigh.
“That’s hardly a ringing endorsement. Did you declare your love yet?”
“No,” he said, sounding defeated.
“What’s the problem? You can’t fight love at first sight, you know,” his friend teased, his eyes sparkling with humor.
Ethan was silent for a moment, but finally spoke. “Stop making fun of me. And the problem is, she found out about the paint.”
“What? How?”
He shrugged, backing away from the drywall that was now affixed to the wall. “I have no idea, but now she’s bent on paying me back.” He checked his watch. “I expect her any time.” He gave a short laugh. “She painted the whole exterior of the house for me.”
“What? You’re kidding me.”
“She insists on helping me with the house. It’s her way of working off her debt.”
Thomas laughed. “Well, you’ve gotta give it to her. She’s obviously a proud person, who doesn’t like the idea of taking advantage of someone.”
“But she didn’t take advantage of me.”
“I know,” Thomas assured him, “but just the same, her wanting to pay you back speaks to her character.”
“Yeah, well, I feel like a jerk. She works too hard, and I feel like I’ve added to her burden.” He sighed. “I admire her independence, but I wish she’d…”
“What?”
He gave a sheepish smile. “I wish she’d depend on me.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to depend on a man again.” He made a face. “I’ve met her ex, you know.”
Ethan gave a humorless laugh. “I can’t get over Gwen giving him a job.” He shook his head. “The guy said he’s in real estate, so why’s he working in her store?”
Thomas chuckled. “Gwen told Holly he has a real flair for design.”
“Well, maybe he’s found his calling,” Ethan said sarcasticall
y. “I wonder if he treats Gwen like he treated Marcia.”
Thomas gave him a speculative gaze. “So it bothers you to think of Gwen being mistreated by this guy?”
“It bothers me thinking any women are being mistreated by guys like him.”
“Well, fortunately, Gwen is one tough cookie. I think she can hold her own.”
“But that’s the thing. Marcia is one tough cookie too, but somehow, that jerk broke her down.”
“And you want to be the one to lift her back up?”
Ethan sighed again. “I wish I could. You know what, I do. I have feelings for her that I’ve never felt for any woman before.”
“Wow,” Thomas said. “You’ve got it bad, my friend.”
“Is that how you felt when you met Holly?” he asked.
Thomas nodded. “Yeah, I guess it was. I mean, she hadn’t been hurt by some jerk, or worn down by life, but I wanted to make sure that never happened. I wanted her safe—you know, with me.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Ethan acknowledged. “I wish I could erase the time Marcia spent with that jerk of an ex. I wish we’d met first.”
Thomas tilted his head in thought. “But then, she wouldn’t necessarily be the person she is today.”
“That’s true.” Both men turned to the front door, when they heard someone knocking. “That’s probably her,” Ethan said, and crossed the room to open the door.
Marcia was dressed in her customary overalls and carrying her toolbox. She nodded a greeting to Thomas. “Hey, you started without me,” she directed to Ethan.
“Marcia, we’ve got it covered,” he told her tiredly.
She ignored him. “Point me in the direction you’d like me to go.”
He aimed a finger toward her house. “Go home.”
“Funny,” she said with a smirk.
“Did you just leave work?” he asked.
“Yep, I stuck around until noon and then headed here. Angie is minding the store.”
“Did you get lunch?”
“I’m good,” she assured him, and headed to a far wall, where sheets of drywall were propped in an open doorway. She retrieved a sheet and glanced around. “Where should I start?”
“We’ll start with lunch,” Ethan said.
“Okay, I’ll head home and make myself a sandwich. I’d be glad to make you both lunch too.”
“We’re going out,” Ethan said, striding across the room and taking her hand. “You’re coming to.”
Before she could argue, she found herself sitting between Ethan and Thomas in Ethan’s truck. Although the vehicle was large, she was pressed against his side. It was too close for comfort. She smelled his masculine scent, and continuously felt his thigh bump against hers. Sitting so close to him, she felt an alien sensation—she felt safe.
She shifted in the seat, attempting to put some distance between them. It wasn’t easy, since she almost found herself plied against Thomas. That simply wouldn’t do either. But she shouldn’t count on Ethan to make her feel … anything. She was just out of a failed marriage, could barely trust herself, let alone a man, and she just wasn’t ready to give her heart away.
Her attention was drawn away from her thoughts when Ethan suddenly stomped on the brakes. Marcia glanced up in time to see a large SUV run a red light and nearly plow into them. Ethan instinctively reached out, to shield her with his arm.
Perhaps he would have done that for anyone, but the gesture touched her to her core. The truck came to a skidding stop, and he quickly turned to her. “Are you all right?” he asked breathlessly.
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“I’m all right over here,” Thomas said, giving his friend a knowing, chagrined look. He appeared to give his own body the once over. “Yep, I’m good. Nothing broken.”
Ethan gave him an impatient glance and then frowning, continued through the intersection and headed for the drive-thru of a nearby fast food restaurant. After placing their orders, they waited behind a line of cars.
Marcia sat silently as the men talked about the work they had completed in the house, and conferred about work yet to be done. Marcia yawned loudly.
“Are we boring you?” Ethan asked with a chuckle.
“No, not at all,” she told him. “I’m just a little tired.”
He turned toward her in the seat and pinned her with a look. “Which is why you should probably go home and get some rest.”
She shook her head—her eyes conveying her determination. “Nope.”
Thomas, beside her, laughed out loud. Ethan grimaced. “How’d you get so stubborn?” he directed to Marcia.
She didn’t answer, as their food was passed to them through the open driver’s side window. Ethan gave the bags to her, and then headed back to his house. There, Thomas, with his soda in hand, climbed out of the vehicle and turned back to quickly rummage through the sacks. He pulled out his burger and fries. “See ya,” he called to the couple, as he strode to his truck.
“Hey!” Ethan said, scrambling from the truck. “Where are you going?”
“I’m calling it a day,” he said, grinning, as he swung himself into the cab of his truck.
Ethan frowned. “I thought you were going to stick around and help me finish up the sheet rock…”
He shook his head. “No, my plan had always been to stick around just long enough for you to buy me lunch.”
“Oh, okay,” Ethan said drolly, giving his brother-in-law a dirty look as he backed out of the driveway.
Marcia dropped down out of his truck, reaching back to retrieve their food. She headed into the house, Ethan following behind. He hurriedly placed a clean drop cloth on the floor and gestured for her to sit. “Sorry about the primitive accommodations,” he said with an apologetic smile.
She smiled in return as she made herself comfortable on the floor. He joined her.
“You really don’t need to help out today,” he told her. “In fact, I’m thinking about calling it a day.”
She frowned. “It’s still early.”
He sighed, studying her determined face. “We’ll work a couple of hours, but that’s it.”
They ate their lunch in companionable silence. Ethan could see that Marcia was exhausted, since she yawned several times. He didn’t bother suggesting she go home, since he knew it wouldn’t do him any good. After they had finished lunch, he directed her to the wall he had been working on earlier. “I need to cut the opening to accommodate the window,” he told her.
“I’ll get it,” she said agreeably, hurrying to retrieve a tape measure and utility knife.
Ethan watched in surprise as she quickly and efficiently measured the window and began cutting, creating a perfect opening for it within the sheet of drywall.
“Wow,” he said with admiration. “Okay, I’ll hold it in place, you screw it in.”
The couple worked steadily for the next couple hours, completing the living room and much of the dining room. Ethan marveled at the pace they kept, acknowledging that they had developed a rhythm as they worked together. Several times Marcia seemed to read his mind as she jumped in to complete a task. He realized they worked together as seamlessly as he did with crew members he’d employed for years.
“That’ll do it for today,” he declared finally, smiling her way.
Marcia seemed startled by the declaration. “We’re making excellent time. Shouldn’t we finish up the dining room?” She glanced around. “We might even be able to get the taping and mudding done if we keep working.”
He shook his head and was about to speak when Marcia’s cell phone rang. She gave an apologetic smile as she answered. She spoke briefly, and then frowning, dropped the phone back into her pocket. “It turns out I have to go anyway. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Everything all right?”
She sighed. “I hope so. I guess I’m needed at the store.”
“Thanks for the help today. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Marcia laughed li
ghtly. “Oh, yes, you could have, but I’m glad to help.”
“You’ll also be glad to know we’re even,” he declared. “You’re all paid up.”
She laughed skeptically. “Yeah, right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
***
After she had gone, Ethan turned a slow circle within the room. He and Marcia had made great time, accomplishing a lot in a couple hours time. They made a great team. Surely that was significant?
There was something about spending time with her that made him feel serene—calm. He hadn’t experienced the same feeling with Gwen, or even anything remotely similar. Gwen was high strung—filled a room with her particular brand of frenetic energy. Perhaps that’s why she filled rooms—literally—with the latest in home fashion. She was great with texture, color, and could lend pizzazz to a space. Her style was flamboyant, daring—whereas he preferred earth tones that lent themselves to warmth and comfort—the very colors Marcia had chosen for her home.
Had he simply outgrown Gwen? Or had they been mismatched from the get-go? And perhaps more importantly, were he and Marcia better suited? With a sigh, he decided he’d have to mull it over, though some inner voice told him—Marcia was the woman for him.
***
“Is everything all right?” Marcia called to a frowning Angie as she hurried into the store. She didn’t immediately spot the woman beside her assistant manager, but couldn’t manage to hide her own frown when she did recognize her.
Angie caught her eye, and Marcia could see the sparks igniting in her assistant’s eyes. “Mrs. Dunneford here is not happy with her mustard yellow paint—again,” she enunciated carefully.
Marcia plastered a smile on her face as she turned to the woman, who spoke before she could.
“I don’t want this paint,” she said. “I’ve tried to tell your clerk that it’s not the same color as the previous paint I ordered.”
Marcia took a deep, shoring breath. That mustard yellow paint was fast becoming the bane of her existence. “I assure you, Mrs. Dunneford, that this is the very same paint color you ordered before.”
Actions Speak Louder Page 15