by Mia Ross
“Yes.” Even to her own ears, that sounded harsh, so she softened her stance a bit. “In the meantime, if you need anything, I’d be happy to consult over the phone.”
She hadn’t even finished speaking when the line went silent. After saying his name a couple of times, she figured he’d hung up and shut off her phone. That feeling of dread slithered back in, and she was scowling when Paul appeared in the doorway.
“Whoa, that’s not a good look,” he said as he joined her near the sink. “Something wrong?”
There was no point in both of them worrying about her father’s strange behavior, so she kept it to herself. “Dad wanted me to come back to the bank now, and I told him no.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish.”
“Well, good for you.” When she grimaced, though, he frowned. “Whattya think he’ll do?”
“I’m not sure,” she confessed with a sigh. “But he’s fired people for insubordination before, so I suppose it’s a possibility.”
“Not his own daughter.” When she nodded, he brushed her fears away with a reassuring grin. “Well, there’s a spot for you at the mill. If you want it, it’s yours.”
Her hero, she thought wistfully. Always there when she needed him, ready with a solution. Because Paul was the kind of guy who took care of the people around him, rather than expecting things to be the other way around. “I love working there, so I just might take you up on that. What are you doing in here, anyway?”
Taking the scrub brush from her, he announced, “It’s time to quit doing dishes and come have some fun with us.”
He’d noticed her working and wanted her to enjoy herself instead. His thoughtful gesture touched her in a way she was still getting used to. “I wanted to help your mom.”
“I’m sure she appreciates that, but she’d probably remind you that even God rested once in a while.”
“That sounds like her.” She reached behind her to undo the apron string, but it had worked itself into a knot, and she turned around. “I can’t reach it. Could you help me out?”
“Sure.”
After a few seconds, she felt the ties fall away and spun to face him again. Affection warmed his gaze, and he slipped his arms around her the way he had last night. Not tight, but not loose, either. It was more of a hold than a hug, as if he was testing to see how close she’d allow him to get.
Neither of them spoke, but the admiration glowing in his dark eyes reached every part of her, warming her straight down to her bare toes. Glancing around to make sure they were more or less alone, he gathered her into his arms for a kiss so intense it actually made her head spin. Even after he broke the kiss, he kept her close, which was fine with her. She wasn’t in a hurry for him to let go.
Flashing a wry grin, he shook his head. “Y’know, I still can’t believe it took me so long to figure out how amazing you are.”
Because it was such a sweet, wonderful thing for him to say, she decided the time had come for her to take a more gracious view of their less-than-stellar past.
“Well, you know what they say. Better late than never.”
Chapter Nine
Monday afternoon, Paul stopped by the office to drop off one of the purchase orders Chelsea insisted he use whenever they needed supplies. This one was for various-sized drill bits, and while he still didn’t see the point of doing them, he’d filled it out the way she’d taught him, just to be nice. Since he’d started making more of an effort to follow the rules she set up, he’d sensed a shift in her attitude toward him. Less combative, more cooperative.
A green van pulled up near the porch, and he chuckled when he saw the floral motif painted on the side. “Did you order plants or something?”
“No.” Leaning back in her chair, she peered out the front window. “Maybe he’s lost.”
When the deliveryman came inside, Paul could barely see him past the armload of red roses he was carrying. From behind them came a muffled “Delivery for Chelsea Barnes.”
“What on earth? Just put them on that table behind you,” she added in her usual pragmatic way. “They must weigh a ton.”
“Pretty near.” Once he was free of the two huge crystal vases, he held out a digital reader for her to sign and waved off her tip. “That’s been taken care of, Ms. Barnes. Have a good day.”
Once he was gone, Chelsea went over to the flowers. Curious but trying not to show it, Paul watched her slide the embossed florist card from its envelope. Her sour expression told him she wasn’t pleased with some poor sap’s extravagant gesture, and for some reason that made him smile. “Wrong number?”
“Definitely.” Waving the card at him, she added, “They’re from Alex.”
Pushing off from the wall, he strolled over to join her.
Over her shoulder, he read, “‘Pretty flowers for a pretty lady—Alex.’” Apparently, the Harvard boy didn’t know daisies were her favorite, Paul mused with a grin. Point for the country boy. “Somebody’s nervous.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“When you skipped a business meeting to go to the reunion, your dad must’ve figured there’s something going on between us. So when he got back, he told Alex that if he wants to stake his claim, he better do it quick.”
“That’s absurd,” she protested.
“I know that, and you know that, but in case you haven’t noticed, folks have a funny way of assuming things about us.”
“That’s true, I guess.” Flipping the edge of the card, she frowned down at it.
Before he could ask what was wrong, his mother’s well-traveled SUV pulled up outside. When she and Gram got out and headed for the porch, he hurried to open the door for them.
“Good morning, ladies. What’re you doin’ all the way out here?”
“Chelsea asked me to make some new curtains and seat cushions for the lobby,” Gram explained. “Diane and I are here to measure so we can buy the fabric and start sewing today. Oh, what beautiful roses!” she cooed, burying her nose in the nearest bouquet. “They smell wonderful, don’t they?”
“Why don’t you each take a vase of them with you?” Chelsea suggested. “If they stay here, one of the pets will knock them over, or they’ll get covered in sawdust.”
“Are you sure?” Gram asked, obviously hesitant to take advantage of her generosity.
“I insist. I really can’t keep them, and you’ll be doing me a favor.”
“All right, then, but only if you agree to come with us.”
Chelsea laughed. “I don’t know the first thing about sewing. That’s why I called in the experts.”
“We insist,” Mom prodded with that no-nonsense look of hers. “I’m sure Paul can spare you for a few hours.”
Actually, he wasn’t crazy about the idea of the three of them strolling around trading stories about him, but since they’d agreed to take the irritating flowers away, he figured it was a good trade. “Sure, no problem. Do you need me to go hang out with Granddad?”
“Your father’s got that covered,” his mother replied with a laugh. “When we left, Will was setting up the chessboard, so they should be well occupied while we’re gone.”
“Poor Dad.” Shaking his head in sympathy, he noticed that Gram looked perkier than she had in a long time. She was always cheerful, but her demeanor often had a determined quality to it, as if she was trying hard to keep everyone’s spirits up. This morning she appeared lighter, as if she was grateful to escape her worries for a little while.
Suddenly, what she’d said registered more fully, and he slanted a peeved look at Chelsea. “You asked her?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but Gram interrupted. “Paul, we need to measure the windows. Could you move the furniture away from them, please?”
“Sure.”
Shoving the bench and chairs aside, he left her and Mom to fuss over the measuring tape and discuss fabric colors. Then he motioned for Chelsea to follow him out to the side yard. She didn’t hang back at all, and
once they were out of earshot, she cut off his simmering temper with a hand in the air.
“Before you start in on me, do you remember the day when your mom was signaling me at church?” He gave a curt nod, and she continued. “When I called later, she said Olivia wanted to help with the restoration but needed a job she could do at home. I told her I’d come up with something and let her know. This is it.”
“Don’t you think she’s got enough to do, taking care of Granddad all day long?”
“I do,” she replied gently. “But your mom felt it was important for her to be part of the mill project. They’ve both been so good to me, I didn’t have the heart to refuse them.”
Her sentimental reasoning tugged at his own emotions, but he still had a point to make. “I just wish you’d asked me first.”
“It had nothing to do with you.”
That riled his settling temper, and he started winding up for another pitch. Then she smiled at him. Not the goading kind she nailed him with when she one-upped him, but the soft, adoring one that kept appearing in his dreams. “What?”
“I just think it’s sweet how you worry about people, that’s all.”
Planting a kiss on his cheek, she went back to their guests with the kind of swagger he normally only associated with men. She’d come a long way in the past few weeks, he thought in admiration, and he was proud of her. She hadn’t taken him up on his offer of a job, but she hadn’t given him a definitive no, either. The idea of her staying on at the mill appealed to him more than it should have, and he had to admit it wasn’t only her business sense he’d come to value.
In other words, he was dangerously close to the point of no return he’d always been so careful to avoid. Hover short of it, and you were fine. Go one step too far, and you were doomed.
* * *
The day before the grand reopening, Paul got an earlier start than usual. When he stepped out of his truck at the mill, he was greeted by the crisp scent of freshly sawed wood, laced with something nutty drifting on the early-morning breeze. Chelsea was curled up in one of the Adirondack chairs he’d made for the front porch, a steaming mug cradled in her hands. As he got closer, he saw it was dark blue, with Jenna’s rendering of the mill and rushing stream painted in a mellow bronze color. Barrett’s Sawmill and Barrett’s Mill, Virginia, were spelled out beneath.
Classy and to the point, he thought. Just like the woman who’d helped design them. Another mug sat on the low table, and he grinned when he realized that she’d not only been told he was on his way, but had his favorite blend of gourmet caffeine waiting for him. Seeing his grandmother’s influence here, he shook his head and decided to just go with it.
“Morning,” he greeted her as he sprawled out in the other chair.
When she swiveled her head to smile over at him, he felt his heart roll over in his chest. If he needed any proof that his growing feelings for her were real, this was it. He’d never done emotional somersaults for any other woman, and while it should have made him happy, it actually did the opposite. His life was unsettled now, to say the least, and if the mill tanked again, he had no idea where he’d be this time next year. It wouldn’t be fair to start something with Chelsea when he wasn’t sure he could finish it.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he began in a light tone, “but shouldn’t you be scrambling around fixing last-minute glitches for the picnic?”
“I would, if there were any,” she assured him with a cute little smirk. “Jenna will be here at ten to install your new signage, and I just confirmed the picnic layout with Molly. Bruce is on his way over to set up his barbecue equipment and the grills for hot dogs and hamburgers. Tomorrow’s forecast is seventy-five and sunny, and you’ve got a hundred RSVPs, so I’ve allowed for twenty-five surprises.”
Being a wing-it kind of guy himself, Paul continually marveled at her ability to not only plot out things in such detail but also allow for contingencies that would never occur to him. Sipping his coffee, he said, “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything, as usual.”
In response, she held out what looked suspiciously like a check. When he saw the amount, he came close to doing a comedic spit take. “What’s this?”
“Dad’s comments about finding a buyer for the oak dining set got me thinking. One of my sorority sisters just bought a lodge in the Catskills up in New York, and she’s been hunting for furniture that’s classic but has a rustic feel to it.”
“I guess that dining set fits the bill.”
“Definitely. When I called her, she said she needs something that can seat their extended family when they come over the summer and for holidays,” Chelsea continued with a proud smile. “I emailed her those high-res photos we took for the website, and she went bonkers over it. She didn’t want to risk losing out, so she overnighted the whole purchase price.”
Still a little stunned, he glanced at the check again, hardly daring to believe all those zeros were real. “This is fantastic. I never could’ve made it happen without you.”
When he met her gaze, interest sparked in her eyes, and she shifted to face him. “Really?”
It dawned on him that she could easily misinterpret his praise as something more personal, and he attempted to dial things back into a safer zone. “Really. Like I said before, if you’re ever looking for a job, let me know.”
Her expression dimmed considerably, and she relaxed back into her chair. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one feeling things he shouldn’t. The defeated look on her face nearly did him in, but his head stubbornly insisted it was for the best.
His heart was another story.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he decided it was time to get everything out in the open. If he didn’t say it just right, he had no doubt she’d let him know. Figuring it was best to start out casual, he began slowly. “I mean it about the job. I couldn’t pay you near what you’re probably making at the bank, but you’d have complete control over what you do and how it gets done. There’s a French word for it.”
“Carte blanche?” she suggested, brow raised in a mocking gesture that made him laugh.
“That’s the one.” Seeing that he had her attention again, he leaned in to close the gap between their chairs. “I’m good with the hands-on stuff, not so much with the numbers and advertising. We make a great team.”
That got him a slow, satisfied smile. “Yes, we do.”
It was now or never, Paul recognized, and after a deep breath, he boldly charged ahead. “In more ways than one.”
Her gaze sharpened, and she edged close enough that their arms were touching. “You mean, personally?”
Paul took the fact that she wasn’t laughing as a good sign, and he nodded.
“I think so, too.”
As he leaned in to kiss her, he caught the scent of the rose perfume she’d chosen this morning. Her lips curved into a soft smile, and it was all he could do not to haul her into his lap for a more thorough kiss. Instead, he settled for something more restrained, resting his forehead on hers with a sigh. “I’m really gonna miss you.”
“And I’ll miss you, but Dad’s counting on me the same way your family’s relying on you.”
“Yeah, I know,” he agreed glumly. Then inspiration struck, and he said, “Merton’s halfway between here and Roanoke. When you’re not too busy, we could meet there for dinner or something. Sound good?”
Mischief danced in those beautiful green eyes. “That depends. What did you have in mind?”
“Promise I’ll behave.”
“That’s not what I heard,” she teased, playfully shoving him away. “I’ve learned a lot about you from the girls on the reunion committee.”
“Aw, they make half that stuff up.”
“What about the other half?” He answered with a grin, and she shook her head at him. “You’re terrible.”
“But you like me anyway.”
Suddenly, she was serious, and she rested a hand on his cheek. “I’m not sure why, but I do.”
Rattled by the track his thoughts were on, he thought it best if he got away from her before he ended up doing something that would freak them both out. Standing, he whistled for Boyd. “I’m gonna get started on sealing that garden bench for Lila. She wants to take it home with her after the picnic tomorrow, and it’ll need time to dry.”
The bloodhound loped up the steps, and Daisy dangled down from her perch on the back of Chelsea’s chair to paw the top of his head. When the dog’s wrinkly face broke into a canine grin, Chelsea ruffled the fur under his collar. “They’re so cute together. I don’t know what she’ll do without him.”
Her eyes locked with Paul’s, and he watched them darken with a sadness that went far beyond her cat’s affection for her big, goofy pal. In a way, Paul realized, he and Chelsea were like them, opposites in every way but somehow finding common ground. That unfamiliar sensation rolled through him again, stronger this time, and he fought to keep a handle on emotions that were threatening to overwhelm his good sense.
“Yeah, he’s kinda gotten used to her messing with him all the time.”
“Maybe we could bring them to those dinners you were talking about,” she suggested quietly. “Y’know, so they don’t forget each other.”
The cautious suggestion brought to mind the timid girl he’d known in high school, who apparently still existed inside the confident, self-assured woman he’d come to know. The woman who was drawing him in, step by reluctant step. If he didn’t veer off soon, it would be too late for both of them.
“Sure, we can do that,” he agreed, edging toward the door. “If you need me, I’ll be out back spraying that sealer on.”
“Okay.”
Although he was supposedly in a hurry, Paul’s feet had other ideas, and he couldn’t quite manage to walk away from her. While she gazed up at him, he felt the pull of her like a physical force that refused to let him go. Finally, he broke their connection and opened the door to go inside.