by Anna Argent
"About a hundred things. First, half of those people don't know what they're doing. Second, there's a big difference between learning a general skill like how to wire a circuit and troubleshooting something that's gone wrong with one. Especially an old one. That comes with experience. Third, no matter how many videos you watch, you're not going to be any stronger. It takes a lot of muscle power to do demolition."
She couldn't argue that point. Her muscles would call her an outright liar if she did.
"Fourth, you need to know the right people to talk to—who to butter up and who to steer clear of—if your repairs are big enough that you need to get permits and inspections to make sure you've met current building codes. Fifth, you have to worry about having the right tools and—"
Gemma cut him off. "Enough. I get it. There's no way I can learn what I need to know and make repairs and do everything else that needs to be done before Memorial Day weekend."
His grin was one of pure victory. "Which is why you should take me up on my offer."
She shook her head. "It's not fair. You'd be doing a lot more work than I would. And what about your day job?"
"I've got a little lull in the schedule. And I don't mind working evenings and weekends, especially if I'm well-fed."
Was she really considering his offer? How could she when the scale was so steeply tipped in her favor?
Then again, how could she not when so much hung on her getting the bakery running again? Poor Aunt Beth needed this—she needed Gemma to give her a reason to keep fighting through her recovery.
If it had been anyone else in the world other than Aunt Beth, Gemma would have rejected Saxon's offer outright and walked away. But Aunt Beth was the one who'd always been there for her. She'd given Gemma so much love, joy and encouragement that there was really no other choice but to accept Saxon's deal.
Still, she had to lay out some boundaries.
"I have pay you something," she began, testing the waters.
"Then I have to pay you for cooking. That's work, too."
He wasn't wrong. Her work was often hot, sweaty and stressful—not that cooking for him would be. He didn't sound all that demanding. "I have to at least pay for all of the materials and any other expenses."
Saxon beamed. "Sure, honey. If that gets me fed, then I have no choice but to agree to your terms."
"And you have to let me pay for most of your time."
"Nope. We're trading labor for labor. That's the offer. Take it or leave it."
She chewed on her top lip, trying to figure out a way around the wall he'd put up. When she couldn't, she decided to move on to other conditions. "You can't let this interfere with your real work. I don't want this job to get you in trouble."
His grin was pure indulgence. "I'm pretty sure my boss won't mind me picking up the extra work."
"And," she continued, "if at any time this deal becomes a problem for you, you have to promise to tell me. I won't be a burden to anyone."
"Is that it?"
She couldn't think of any more conditions to add, so she nodded.
He held out his hand. "Then it's a deal."
Both manners and years in business had her reaching automatically to accept his hand.
Warm, strong fingers wrapped around her sore flesh. He exerted only the gentlest pressure, but it was enough for her to feel every callous and ridge riding his palm. His fingers were so long, they inched up her wrist to stroke that delicate skin with shimmering heat.
Again, she had that crazy feeling that they were alone inside a bubble that insulated them from the rest of the world. Even the song of the birds and the hum of nearby cars couldn't penetrate the tiny world only the two of them shared.
He pulled his hand away, leaving her shaken and stunned.
What was it about this man that made the world fall away? And how was she going to find even footing when the ground seemed to evaporate beneath her feet when he was near?
He gave her a knowing smile, like he was used to rocking every girl he touched to her deepest foundation.
"I'll finish here, then go clean up. What time is supper?" he asked.
Gemma had to shake her head to get her thoughts to settle into place enough to make sense of his words. "Uh, I need an hour or so. Any requests?"
"Whatever you're making will be way better than what I had planned."
"Which was?"
"Canned soup. It's the only thing I don't burn. At least not every time."
"Wow. That is a low bar."
"See? I'm easy to please. I'll be over in an hour. If it's not ready, I can help."
Gemma wrinkled her nose. "Thanks, but it sounds like your time would be better spent visiting with Aunt Beth. Best if you don't touch the food. You might hurt it."
He nodded, humor dancing in his eyes. "Should I bring anything?"
"Just your appetite."
His gaze heated and all signs of humor faded from his expression. "Don't worry, honey. I'm definitely hungry."
Gemma hurried inside, closed the front door, lowered her forehead to the antique wood and leaned heavily against it, just breathing.
Her whole body was trembling, though she could no longer tell if it was from physical fatigue or from Saxon's effect on her.
The man packed one hell of a wallop.
"Gemma?" said Aunt Beth. "Are you okay?"
Gemma whirled around to find her aunt sitting in the living room, reading the paper. Her walker stood nearby, its bright yellow tennis balls a cheerful counterpoint to the need for the support it offered.
Aunt Beth's silver and white hair was twisted up in a sleek knot. The elegant updo seemed out of place next to the loose jogging pants and casual T-shirt she wore. As always, her cheeks were flushed a girlish pink and there was a sparkle in her dark eyes.
"I'm fine," Gemma said, though she wasn't yet sure if it was true.
"I heard voices outside."
"Saxon was measuring for a new window."
Aunt Beth beamed. "Such a sweet boy. He's always looking after me and keeping an eye out for repairs that need to be done around here."
It stung that Gemma hadn't been here to help her aunt. She was family. She was the one who was supposed to be keeping an eye on things.
She smoothed her dirty hair and donned an air of calm she didn't feel after her encounter with Saxon. "I hope you don't mind that I invited him for dinner."
Aunt Beth's smile widened. "Of course not." She leaned forward and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. "I've smelled some of the things he's burned wafting across the street. It's a wonder that man doesn't starve to death."
Gemma wasn't ready to share the news about the ruined bakery yet. She would as soon as Aunt Beth was strong enough to deal with another setback, but until then, it was best if she thought everything was going according to plan. And Aunt Beth's opening was the perfect one to explain why Saxon was going to be having meals with them.
"In that case," Gemma said, "I may have to invite him over more often."
Aunt Beth grinned, and her voice took on a lilting quality. "Oh, I see."
Gemma rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to see. He's helped you out a lot. It only seems fair to repay the favor."
"Come sit down with me and tell me more about how you plan to do that."
Gemma started toward the antique settee adorned in a cheerful rose print. She was halfway there before she remembered how filthy she was. "I'd better not. I'm a mess from…cleaning up the bakery today. I need a shower."
"While you're at it, put on that pretty yellow sundress that brings out your eyes."
"Why on earth would I—" Gemma realized mid-sentence why her aunt was so keen on what she wore. "If you've got it in your head to play matchmaker, just stop right now."
Aunt Beth's look of innocence was so overblown she could have been a cartoon character. "Whatever do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. I'm not getting involved with Saxon."
"Now that you bring it up, I
think you two would make a lovely couple."
"I'm sure you do, but that doesn't change the fact that he lives here and my life is in St. Louis."
"But you're here now. Why not have a little fling? Dust the cobwebs off your…" she waved her hand toward Gemma's jeans, "…nether regions."
"Aunt Beth!" Gemma nearly screeched. "There are no cobwebs on any of my regions, nether or otherwise. And it's really none of your business how often I dust, so just…just quit."
Aunt Beth took on an air of complete innocence. "You could do worse than Saxon. That's all I'm saying."
"I didn't ask."
"I mean, he's so tall and strong and kind. He has a good job. And he loves children."
"Which would be great if I was in the market for a husband. But I'm not. Career first, family second. That's always been the plan."
"Plans change. Sometimes they even change for the better."
Gemma clearly wasn't going to be able to make her aunt shut up, so she decided to do the next best thing and walk away.
"I'm going to shower. I'll be down in a few minutes to start dinner."
She was halfway up the stairs when she heard her aunt's singsong voice—one of a much younger woman—say, "I bet you can't make it through your whole shower without thinking about him."
As usual, Aunt Beth was right.
Chapter Six
Gemma had just wrapped a towel around her wet hair when her phone rang. Her mom's number appeared on the screen, surprising Gemma.
Mom rarely called without scheduling it first, as if she didn't have a second to waste waiting for Gemma to answer.
"How is your aunt?" Mom asked without preamble. No time for niceties.
"She's doing better. She still needs a walker to get around, but she's getting stronger. Physical therapy is doing her a lot of good."
Mom's tone was all brisk business. "She's going to have to face facts and realize that it's time for her to seek out other living arrangements."
"You mean like a nursing home?"
"That is why those places exist." She said this as though Gemma were a slow child.
She gritted her teeth. "Why not bring her to come live with you? Heaven knows your house is big enough."
Mom laughed like Gemma had just made a joke. "As if I could take time away from work for something so…domestic. I have projects, deadlines. My job is important." She sighed. "I suppose you could come take care of her here. We'll get you enrolled in a decent school while you're here. Find you a career…"
"I have a career, Mom. I don't need to go back to school."
"You have a job. You cook. That is not a career, darling."
Gemma clutched the phone tighter, willing it to break so she wouldn't have to have this conversation with her mother. Again.
"I like what I do."
"You're a cook in a hot, greasy kitchen. How on earth could you like it?"
"I get to create new recipes and arrange food in artistic displays no one has ever seen before. I'm constantly working seasonal items into our menu. Every day is a new challenge, every plate a new canvas."
Mom scoffed. "Really, Gemma. Don't be dramatic. You're far too bright to be wasting your mind on such menial labor. Serving people food, of all things. Leave that to the C students and drug addicts of the world."
She shoved those two groups together, as if all C students were drug addicts and vice versa.
Leave it to Mom to find the most insulting, demeaning way to make a point.
"We've talked about this before," Gemma said, slumping onto the pretty Amish quilt covering the bed. Aunt Beth had recently redecorated the room, and it was a lovely mix of bright colors and pristine white linens.
"Too many times," Mom agreed. "It's time you make a change. Go back to school. Find a real career you can be proud of."
And that was the root of the problem. Gemma was proud, but Mom wasn't.
Gemma sighed. "Is there a reason you called? Other than to berate me, I mean."
"Yes. Of course. Your father is getting another award. I was hoping you'd attend the ceremony."
"When is it?"
"Next week."
"Sorry, but Aunt Beth won't be able to travel yet. She can't miss physical therapy right now."
"Then don't bring her," Mom said, as if it solved the problem.
"That kind of negates my purpose here, don't you think? I mean, I took a leave of absence from work just so that I could come and take care of her."
"And you can't slip away for a few days to see the proof of your father's success?"
"I got an award, too. Neither one of you bothered to come visit me."
"That was a food industry award. It hardly counts. I'm sure they give out hundreds of them."
"Actually, no. Our restaurant was the only one that got the award, and it was because of my menu that we won. It was a big deal."
"Oh, for heaven's sake. You make it sound like you cured cancer." Irritation rattled through Mom's tone. "Fine. If you don't want to come see us, don't. We'll have a house full of friends in for the event, anyway. You'd just be taking up one of the guest rooms. And if you change your mind about going back to school, let me know. You're not getting any younger. It's about time you figure out what you want to be when you grow up."
Mom ended the call, leaving Gemma furious and deflated.
No matter what she did in her profession, Gemma was never going to please her parents. She only wished their disappointment in her didn't sting so badly.
***
Saxon could not get Gemma off his mind. He had only an hour to kill before he saw her again, but it seemed like a year.
After a quick shower, he busied himself by reading the mail and washing the thermos of coffee he'd taken to work that morning. He flipped through a few channels on the TV, but none of the bright lights and colors could hold a candle to the vivid image of Gemma blazing in his mind.
She was so damn pretty. So cute with her hair a mess and the efforts of her day clinging to her skin in grimy spots. Even though she had to be sore and stiff from work she was clearly not used to doing, she hadn't complained or wined.
He liked it that she knew how to work, even if she wasn't suited for the job.
First thing tomorrow, he'd drive over to the Rise and Shine and take stock of what needed to be done. The job couldn't be that big—just a few days and he'd knock it out.
The idea of lingering so that he'd have an excuse to talk to her popped in his head, but he immediately dismissed it. She was on a tight timeline if she was going to get the bakery opened before crowds started rolling in for the summer. He couldn't do anything to sabotage her efforts.
But maybe if he got his work done quickly, she'd let him help in other ways. He couldn't bake worth a damn, but he could lift fifty-pound bags of flour and sugar all day long—whatever it took to get a little more time with her.
As he realized where his train of thought was headed, he stilled.
When was the last time he'd gone to so much effort to be near a woman? He couldn't remember. High school, maybe?
Before he could question his unusual actions further, his phone rang. Mason's stern face popped up on the screen.
"Hey, brother. What's up?"
"I'm not sure, but I'm damn well going to find out. Feel like a little road trip tonight?"
He almost said that he couldn't, but something about Mason's urgent tone bothered him. "Where?"
"Kansas City. I've got an address attached to some payments that I didn't approve. It's a building supply company downtown. I'm going to check it out."
"Why not just call them?"
"I tried. The phone number listed is disconnected."
"It's already six. I'm sure they're closed for the day."
"Maybe," was all Mason said, but the way he said it made Saxon sit upright, alert.
"There's something else you're not telling me. What is it?"
Mason was quiet for a minute before he let out a sigh. "I did something I'm not
proud of."
"What?"
Mason hesitated, but finally spit it out. "I put a GPS tracking app on Diana's phone. She's supposed to be in KC with her friend, but she's at that address—the one where the payments are going."
Pieces clicked into place in Saxon's head. "You're worried what you might do if you find out she's behind the missing money."
"I need you there to keep me from doing anything I'll regret."
All of Saxon's excitement over his dinner with Gemma fizzled and went flat. But what choice did he have? He couldn't leave his brother hanging. "I'm ready now. Swing by and pick me up."
Mason let out a long, relieved breath. "Thanks, man. I owe you."
"No, you don't. There are no debts between brothers."
"Be there in fifteen." Mason hung up.
Saxon grabbed a flannel shirt to ward off the oncoming chill of nightfall and jogged across the street to Aunt Beth's house. He knocked once, and Gemma opened the door, donned in a cute fluffy apron over a pretty yellow sundress.
His heart gave a slow, hard squeeze, emitting a feeling he couldn't name.
He brushed it off as lust.
She was clean and pink from a shower, her wet hair pulled back away from her face and knotted at the nape of her neck. She wore no makeup except for a sheen of pink gloss on her lips.
Utterly kissable.
As her gaze met his, her dark eyes brightened with an excitement that had mirrored his own a few minutes ago. "You're early, but that's okay. Everything is almost done."
He could smell something savory and glorious, but was too ignorant of the culinary arts to even guess what it might be.
"I didn't have much time, so I just made some burgers and fries. I hope that's okay."
He nearly groaned in need, but his stomach beat him to it.
Her smile widened and she let out a musical laugh. "Sounds like you're ready to eat."
She turned away to lead him to the dining room, but he grabbed her hand before she could get away. "Wait. Something's come up and I can't stay."
Her smile vanished, and with it all the bright twinkles of excitement in her eyes. "Oh. Okay. No problem. Thanks for letting me know."
"I really want to stay, Gemma. I do. But my brother needs some help tonight, and—"