by Lyn Cote
“I’m going to need someone to help out at the shop,” Jo began, focusing on practical matters.
“I’ll be happy to come—”
“No,” Jo said firmly. “I’d let you if you’d take pay for it, but I know you won’t. Besides, I can do my floral work and handle customers and the phone sitting down. What I really need is someone to come and neaten everything up and sweep at the end of each day. Even a teenager after school would do. I’ll call the school counselor and see if she can recommend someone.”
The next afternoon, Jo sat behind her counter with crutches propped nearby. The bell above the door jingled and a shy slender young girl with long dark hair entered.
Jo had seen the girl around town though they’d never spoken. “Hi, are you the student who’d like to work an hour or two after school every night?”
“Yeah.” The girl looked up and then down again.
Jo held out her hand. “Call me Jo.”
The girl who still wouldn’t meet Jo’s eyes took her hand and held it loosely. “I’m Tassie Dixon.”
The fact that this girl was related to Bramwell Dixon niggled at Jo’s better sense. She noted that the girl’s hair was the same color as Bram’s. She recalled too vividly sitting beside him during their limousine ride and how she’d wanted to finger his dark cocoa-colored hair.
Why am I having these thoughts about a man who thinks I’m a selfish manipulative woman? So this girl is his sister. That doesn’t mean I’ll have to have anything to do with her brother, right?
Chapter Three
“Tassie, breakfast!” On Friday morning, the last day of February, Bram followed his usual frustrating school-day ritual. The promise of sleeping in late tomorrow and reading the Texarkana and Little Rock papers while lounging around in his sweats lifted his end-of-winter weariness.
“Okay! I’m almost dressed,” Tassie’s reply floated down to him.
Bram raised one eyebrow. Tassie had sounded almost polite. I must be imagining things now. Wish fulfillment. He walked back to the kitchen table. He’d just sat down when he heard his sister bounding down the stairs. Without a fuss, she walked into the room, snagged the box of corn flakes and made herself breakfast.
Bram eyed this from over the top of the Texarkana newspaper. Something looked different about his little sister. Should he say anything or ignore it?
Tassie met his gaze. “Do you like them?”
He couldn’t read the expression in his sister’s eyes. But she wasn’t glaring at him for a change. “Them?”
Tassie shook her head, her nose wrinkling in amusement. “You didn’t notice, right?”
He studied her, analyzing her. Bingo. “Your hair’s different.”
“I’ve got bangs now.” Tassie looked pleased.
“That’s right. You do.” The bangs flattered his sister’s face, made her look…prettier.
Tassie chuckled.
This brought Bram up short. He hadn’t heard his sister chuckle in a long time and never at the breakfast table. He figured she must laugh sometimes, just never around him, the big bad brother. “I should have thought of that.” He’d remembered school physical and dentist appointments, but there was so much “girl stuff” he didn’t think of that he wanted to do for his sister. He didn’t want her to go without anything she needed. He voiced a sudden and startling idea, “Did…do you want to go to a…beauty shop?”
“No.” She watched him, obviously enjoying his being at sea.
“Then how did you get bangs? Did you cut them yourself?”
Tassie gave him another impish grin. “Miss Jo cut them for me yesterday. She told me to wait and see if you noticed. She said you wouldn’t.”
Bram gritted his teeth. Miss Jo, the I’ll-use-my-cousin-for-profit florist and now obviously the expert on men. Irritation jabbed him like a hot needle. “I only let you take that job at her place because it’s not going to last more than a week to ten days.” His voice had come out sounding more disgruntled than he’d intended. And this wiped the teasing smile off his sister’s face.
He backpedaled fast. “Sorry.” Did Jo have something to do with the pleasant change in his sister? “Do…do you like Jo?”
She gave him a resentful look. “Yeah.”
Bram searched his mind for a way to defuse the tension. Jo had been a…pleasant companion at the wedding. For a second, he pictured her laughing up at him about something he couldn’t remember. But he couldn’t seem to forget her smile. Maybe Tassie needed more smiles in her day. “She seems like a nice person,” he said at last.
“She’s not like most adults,” Tassie asserted with a lift of her chin. “She’s nice.”
I’m sure I didn’t make the cut on your nice list. Was it good that Tassie was being influenced by Jo? Well, she was the cousin of Leta, his friend’s wife. But he was still uneasy. “I’m glad,” he said pouring more oil on the troubled waters. “I wouldn’t want you working for someone who wasn’t nice.” The tension eased slightly. Bram took refuge behind his paper, not wanting to stir the cloudy waters again.
Later that morning when he had his planning period in his coaching office, he looked up the phone number for Tassie’s school counselor and dialed the number.
“Counseling office,” came the answer.
“Hi, is this Miss Adams?” he asked.
“Yes, how may I help you?”
“This is Bram Dixon. I wanted to talk to you about this job you arranged for my sister.”
“What do you want to know?” Miss Adams’s voice became strained. “Isn’t Tassie happy at Jo’s?”
“She’s happy. I just wanted to know why you specifically chose to ask Tassie if she wanted to take the job.”
“Ah.” The counselor’s voice relaxed. “I’ve known Jo all my life. We went all through school together. I thought Tassie would enjoy getting to know her—especially since your sister doesn’t have a female role model in her life right now.”
“Oh. But the job’s only going to last until Jo’s sprained ankle heals, right?”
“That’s right, but even for such a short time, I thought Jo’s cheery personality would be good for Tassie. Is there a problem?” the counselor asked, sounding cautious again.
“No, I just wondered. Thanks.” He hung up slowly.
Female role model. He realized that he’d been actively trying to keep Tassie from following her three older sisters’ poor examples, especially that of Natasha, who had three children by three different men, none of whom she’d married. He’d never thought about trying to provide his little sister with a better example. But was Jo a good female role model for Tassie?
“Yes, that’s right, Tassie,” Jo said from her stool in the rear work area of her shop late on Friday afternoon. “Now add some greenery.”
A last-minute order for a dozen long-stemmed roses from a local businessman (who’d just remembered it was his anniversary) had been called in only minutes before closing. He wanted roses delivered to him to carry home to his “bride.” And this had provided Jo with a chance to let Tassie learn how to put together a vase of fresh flowers.
Jo enjoyed having Tassie come every afternoon; the fact that she lived with Bram Dixon curried her sympathy. Out of a vague feeling of sisterhood with Tassie, Jo had tried to do a little extra for the sweet child. Jo was sure that having Bram for an older brother would be a sore trial for any female. His acid comment still stung. Why am I still letting him get to me?
“Now I always include a little baby’s breath to soften and give contrast to the red roses,” Jo explained. “Red roses make such a bold statement.”
Tassie nodded, turned to the cooler and took out a few sprigs of baby’s breath. She tucked it in and around the thirteen red roses and the greenery already standing in the crystal vase.
“Now some sheer white ribbon,” Jo said, enjoying Tassie’s intense concentration.
The young girl reached for the spool of white ribbon. She chewed her lower lip as she measured it along the yard
stick glued to the edge of the work table and then snipped it.
“Now ease it around the vase and tie it in a pretty bow and clip each end into a V.” Jo watched Tassie follow her instructions. “Well done.” She patted the girl’s shoulder and then, needing a change of position, stood up.
That was when, through the large archway between the front and rear, she noticed Bram Dixon standing at the front window looking in at them. The coach’s handsome face at her window jolted her. A scintilla of the resentment she’d felt when she last saw him flashed through her afresh. Bram usually waited out at the front curb in his red pickup for his sister. “What’s he doing at the window?” Jo asked with suspicion coloring her tone.
Tassie looked up, but didn’t answer her question. “You were right, Miss Jo.” The girl grinned in an obvious us-against-them way. “He didn’t notice my bangs.”
Pressing her lips into a tight smile, Jo shook her head. “Men. Just remember, Tassie, they’re all alike.”
Bram left his place beside the window and set the bell over the door jingling. He joined them in the work area.
Jo braced herself for his opening salvo. He probably didn’t like the bangs. Probably thought Jo should have asked for written permission.
“Hi, Jo, nice to see you again,” he said, sounding ill at ease.
Yeah, right. I’m just as happy to see you here as you are to see me. But Jo couldn’t stop an unexplained excitement that shivered through her when he had looked at her. She merely gave him a polite smile. “You’re here early today.”
“It’s Friday night. No football in February. And I thought I’d wait inside until Tassie is done.”
“Oh, okay,” Jo faltered, realizing suddenly that Bram had managed to breach her defenses. Her pulse raced as her mind screeched, “Danger! Danger! Step away from the man!”
Bram felt very much the intruder in Jo’s shop. It reminded him of the aggravating photo shoot. He wondered if Jo held a grudge against him for what he’d said to her later that day during the reception. Well, if she had a grudge against him, she hadn’t taken it out on his sister. He drew hope from that.
“Bram, look,” Tassie pointed out, “Miss Jo let me put together this bouquet of roses. Isn’t it pretty?”
“I thought Tassie would only be doing clean-up for you,” he said in an accusing tone.
Jo bristled visibly. “Your sister finished up early and I thought she’d enjoy arranging her first bouquet—”
“And I did,” Tassie flared up at him and turned to Jo. “My brother doesn’t like it when I have fun.”
Bram felt like hitting himself in the head. Why do I always say the wrong thing, Lord?
Jo placed a hand on Tassie’s arm. “I think your brother is just afraid that I’m taking advantage of you. I’m paying you minimum wage for cleaning. Maybe he—”
“No,” he spoke up trying to think of a way to redeem this awkward situation and besides he wanted to ask Jo a favor. Instead, with both females, he was sinking deeper and deeper. “I thought Tassie should know how gracious it is for you to take time to show her how to do something creative.”
Tassie looked as if she were trying to decide if he were telling the truth or not. Jo merely gave him a completely unconvinced smile.
“Well, if you don’t mind,” Jo said as if daring him to put his foot in it again, “I’m going to send Tassie down the street to deliver these along with the gift card to the customer.”
“Fine. That’s fine,” Bram said, backing away. Tassie put on her jacket and left the shop. His sister was unable to hide her smile of satisfaction as she walked out proudly, holding the festive arrangement high. An awkward silence followed the jingling bell as Tassie departed.
“Been busy lately?” Bram asked, trying to make conversation, trying to think of how to broach the topic on his mind.
Jo flushed up and glared at him.
“What did I say?” he asked, taking another step backward.
She looked away from him. “Sorry. You couldn’t know,” she said, sounding ruffled. “I’m just a little touchy lately on that subject of being busy.”
“Oh. I remember. You’re getting hit with some stiff competition.”
“More than that.” With her hands, Jo began sweeping up the debris from cutting the roses. “I think Henderson’s, the florist from the next town, is trying to put me and the other florists out of business with a storefront here.”
“Really? How?”
“They’re offering a twenty-five-percent discount to new customers.” Keeping her eyes lowered, she swept all the debris into one hand and then tossed it into the receptacle beneath the work bench.
“Do you think they’re committing unfair business practices?” He lounged against the work counter.
Jo frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
“If a competitor is really intending to put his competition out of business by undercutting prices, that might be against the law.”
“Maybe, but that might be hard to prove,” she said.
At last, he’d said something right around her. One point for his team. He better go for it now while she wasn’t angry with him. “I was wondering—”
The jingling of the bell on the door interrupted him.
“He loved them!” Tassie enthused. “And he gave me a dollar tip for delivering them.” Tassie showed the crisp dollar bill in her hand. “That was okay, wasn’t it?”
“Great.” Jo smiled that engaging smile of hers. “A dollar tip is very appropriate.”
Bram recalled being a recipient of a few of Jo’s beaming smiles at Don’s wedding. They were hard to resist. It seemed as if Jo really liked Tassie. And just because he didn’t approve of her asking her cousin to pose for advertisements didn’t make Jo a bad person. Maybe he could get Jo to agree to his proposal. But he couldn’t make that request now. Not here with Tassie looking on.
“Well, you’re done for the day, Tassie.” Jo handed his sister a check. “Here’s what I owe you for the week. Would you go lock the rear door and turn off the light?”
“Sure.” Tassie ran toward the rear of the shop.
Jo held out her hand. “Thanks for your suggestion about my situation, Bram. I will find out if I have a leg to stand on about unfair competition.”
He took her soft little hand and shook it. Then he stood holding it, gazing into her blue eyes. They were not the usual blue, but the color of robins’ eggs.
Bram experienced a stab of insight. Some sort of connection was forming between them. He abruptly dropped Jo’s hand. No woman had gotten to him in a long time. Maybe I should rethink this. I don’t need any more complications in my life right now, he thought. And a “cute as a button” redhead with blue eyes could cause all kinds of chaos in his well-ordered life.
Tassie came back. “Anything else I can do, Miss Jo?”
“No, you’ve been a great help today. Come in Monday and I’ll let you know what the doctor says about how many more days I’m going to need your help. But I know I’m going to miss you when this ankle is back to normal.” Jo patted Tassie’s arm. His sister glowed with unmistakable pleasure.
Bram took a deep breath. He’d be back later—when he’d shored up his defenses.
Chapter Four
Later that night, after dropping off Tassie at her best friend’s house, Bram stood outside at the back of Jo’s shop. He steadied his nerves and then knocked on Jo’s door. It was almost nine o’clock and the darkness held a chill. He pulled up the collar on his jacket even though he shivered from nerves and not from cold. He didn’t like asking for favors, especially not from a pretty woman.
“Who is it?” Jo called out.
“It’s me,” he replied in kind, “Bram. Bram Dixon.”
Within a few seconds, Jo pulled back the window curtain and squinted out at him. The light cast by the window gleamed in the night. He heard the lock being turned and the door opened.
With crutches under her arms and dressed in light-blue sweats, Jo s
tood in the doorway, her expression anything but welcoming. He recalled a story he’d been forced to read in college about a guy who’d woken up in bed one morning and found himself changed into a cockroach. Bram figured that Jo eyed him as if he’d had a similar transformation.
“Can I…may I come in?” Bram managed to say. His throat was as dry as Death Valley. Even on her crutches, the slender redhead made for an appealing sight. He wanted to help her walk, but kept his hands at his sides. Keep your distance. Remember that.
Jo maneuvered away from the door and allowed him in as far as her postage-stamp-sized kitchen. Then she halted, facing him. “Is something wrong? Is this about Tassie?”
“Well, yes, to both.” He swallowed to moisten his parched mouth. “I need to talk something over with you.” He forced himself to keep his eyes on hers.
With a piercing gaze, she weighed and measured him. Finally, she motioned for him to sit down at one of the two chairs at the small round kitchen table.
Relieved that he’d passed her test, he took off his brown leather jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. After he sat down, he rubbed his moist palms on his blue-jeaned thighs.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked.
“Water,” he croaked, dry-mouthed. “I’ll get it.”
“No, the exercise is good for me.” Jo moved slowly over to the counter, her crutches thumping on the dark wood floor. She poured him a glass of water from a pitcher in the refrigerator and handed it to him.
“Now tell me what you want.” She stunned him with a teasing grin.
He stood again and helped her take her place at the table. Standing behind her, he was caught by her nape, the pale skin and auburn wisps of hair. Turning away, he propped her crutches against the counter. He sat down across from her, frowning. How to begin?