Hammer, Nails, and Happily Ever After?

by Mitzi Kelly

  Greg took a deep breath and raised his head to look at her. His eyes were dark, and he looked like he was fighting for composure. “As I was saying, it can be dangerous for a single woman living alone.”

  Her lips closed and then tightened. She raised her eyebrows, looking straight up. “Apparently, you’re right.”

  He followed her look. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He released her hands.

  She tried to ignore the sudden chill covering her body when he stepped back. Shaking her arms, she looked up at him. “For your information, a stranger wouldn’t have had the opportunity to get that close to me.” If he wanted to ignore the sparks that had flared up between them, she would gladly oblige him. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been a willing participant in his experiment, but the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it. “I would have kneed him right where it counts the minute I sensed any threat, and besides, Jack would have ripped his head off.”

  They both looked down at the floor where Jack lay sleeping at their feet.

  “Remember, we’re talking about a stranger,” she said with a huff as she moved around Greg and headed down the hall. “You can bring the sink into the bathroom. And no, I still don’t have any food in the house.”

  Greg laughed, and she gave a sigh of relief as the tension melted away. Thankfully, her legs didn’t give out before she reached the bathroom.

  Chapter Eight

  Ginger shut her car door and shielded her eyes against the bright sunlight, scanning the area for anyone familiar. What a glorious day for a picnic. And obviously, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Crowds of people milled around enjoying the warm sunshine, parents stretched out on blankets watching their young children play, couples walked hand-in-hand gazing into each other’s eyes, and groups of teenagers paraded back and forth in order to draw attention to themselves from similar groups their age. Friendly chatter filled the air, interrupted occasionally with the excited squeal from a happy child or the rambunctious barking of a dog chasing a ball.

  A pebbled walkway lined the large grassy area where several concrete picnic tables and iron charcoal grills dotted the landscape far enough apart to ensure privacy, yet close enough to also accommodate a large gathering. She drew in a deep breath, enjoying the clean, crisp air, looking forward to spending a day outside.

  She had declined Greg’s offer to pick her up this morning and drive her to the park. She didn’t want anyone associated with the office to assume they were more than just friends. Gossip often started at the tiniest hint of curiosity.

  She finally spotted Greg making his way toward her, weaving in and out between the throngs of people. A smile of pleasure tickled her lips, and for just a moment, she allowed herself the privilege of just watching him. Incredibly handsome, strong, and vibrant, Greg was unlike any of the men she’d known in the past. He was sweet and thoughtful, funny and caring, and she was enjoying the time they spent together.

  He drew closer, and his smile warmed her. The more she got to know Greg Tucker, the harder it was to believe he was someone who would use women for his own pleasure and then ruthlessly discard them. She was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had done nothing to show her he was that callous.

  By the time he reached her side, she’d pulled her baseball bat and glove from the trunk of her car.

  “Did you have any trouble finding the place?” he asked.

  “Not a bit.” She handed him her equipment.

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’re pretty serious about this baseball thing, aren’t you?”

  “Very,” she replied with a grin. “And whenever I play to win, I bring my own equipment. We have a bet, remember?”

  “Oh, I remember, all right. But I may have forgotten to mention the pitcher on the other team is a maniac. The last couple of years, nobody has hit a home run on him. We think he neglected to tell us he played professional ball before becoming a painting contractor.”

  “Seems like a natural career move,” she said with a laugh.

  “I’ll tell you what. Forget the month. I will gladly make coffee for a whole year if you can break this guy’s winning streak. He’s getting a little cocky, and we think he’s getting ready to raise his rates on the work we give him.”

  She smiled. “We’ll just have to make sure we knock him down a peg or two, then.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s my girl.”

  As hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop her smile from spreading.

  The company picnic was set up in a far corner of the park that butted up on one side against a wooded area, and a baseball diamond on the other. Justin and Steve stood with several other men next to a large commercial-style barbeque grill while a crew of workers finished setting up portable picnic tables, strung lights from the overhead branches of surrounding trees, and laid down wooden pallets, presumably for a makeshift stage and dance area. The Tuckers obviously didn’t do anything in half measures.

  She’d been surprised she wasn’t required to take care of the arrangements. In her experience, men—especially construction men—didn’t possess the interest or the patience to see to the little details that made a party like this comfortable for all the guests. When she inquired about it, Justin had grinned and informed her they hired the same service every year to manage the set up and the take down. All she would be required to do was make sure the bill was paid.

  Contractors and clients mingled while still others, many whom Ginger only knew by name, arrived with their families, and there was much backslapping and good-natured joking as everyone settled in to enjoy the day. Greg made sure she was introduced to those people she didn’t know, and she felt herself blushing at several comments that revealed the Tuckers had been generous in their praise of the great job she was doing running the office.

  The smoky aroma of grilled meat, the sound of children laughing, and the familiarity of metal horseshoes clanging loudly when hitting a ringer brought a comfortable sense of belonging. Ginger decided at least for the day, she was going to have a good time with these people she genuinely liked and respected, and not worry about holding herself back just because they happened to be co-workers.

  Greg led her over to one of the large coolers for a soda. He twisted the cap off two drinks and handed her one. He looked out over the group of people mingling and laughing. “We’ve been really blessed to have such a great relationship with the people we work for, and with.”

  Ginger took a sip of her soda, and they began walking toward a grouping of trees at the edge of the clearing. “Well, it wouldn’t be that way if you took advantage of any of them. Seems to me you have all earned the respect these people feel for you.”

  Just then two older women approached them, adorable in their blue camping shorts and knee-high socks with tennis shoes. One wore a pink T-shirt with the words I’m with the Crazy Old Lady emblazoned across the front, and the other one wore a lavender T-shirt that sported the words I’m the Crazy Old Lady. Their close resemblance to each other made it apparent they were sisters. They each wore straw hats over snow-white hair, and their clear blue eyes were currently appraising Ginger as if she were a strange phenomenon.

  One of the women turned to Greg and smiled. “Well, Mr. Tucker, it’s about time. Aren’t you going to introduce us to your girlfriend?”

  Ginger almost sprayed all of them with the soda in her mouth. She tried not to choke in her embarrassment while Greg, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease.

  “Why, Miriam and Mabel Huffman, you know you two are my only girlfriends,” he said as he gave each woman an affectionate hug.

  The woman who had made the outrageous comment rolled her eyes and swatted at his arm. “You’re just saying that because you think this year we’re finally going to tackle that remodeling project.”

  “That’s not even remotely true. We’ve been doing different projects on your home for over two years now, and I know when you’re ready for your next project, you’ll call us. It’
s those delicious cookies you two bring to the office every month that keep me totally devoted to you. I’m addicted.”

  The woman stuck her nose in the air, but a tiny smile dimpled her cheeks. “Well, regardless, we are accepting your estimate on the work. You’ll be hearing from us soon.”

  The other woman was peering at Ginger with unabashed curiosity. Ginger now knew what it felt like to be a bug under a microscope.

  “Enough nonsense,” the woman said. “Tell us about this beautiful girlfriend of yours.”

  “Miriam and Mabel,” Greg said, identifying each woman with an outstretched hand, “I’d like you to meet our new office administrator. This is Ginger Carmichael.”

  “Office administrator?” Both women spoke at once, clear disappointment in their voices.

  Ginger bit her lip to keep from laughing. “It’s very nice to meet you.” She held out her hand.

  Miriam, slightly taller than Mabel and the one who had commented on the remodeling work, frowned as she clasped Ginger’s hand. “You’re too pretty to be working in an office, dear. Why don’t you like our dear Greg?”

  He coughed into his hand, and Ginger shot him a look. He was having way too much fun. “I do like Mr. Tucker. He’s a wonderful boss.”

  Mabel reached for Ginger’s hand. “Boss, smosh, hogwash,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “You’ve got the hots for him, don’t you?”

  Ginger blinked, her face warming with her discomfort. Could Mabel read minds?

  Greg laughed out loud. “Mabel! You’re embarrassing the best assistant we’ve ever had. If Ginger decides to leave us, I’m going to double that estimate we gave you.”

  Both women giggled like little girls. Outrageous they might be, but they didn’t seem to mean any harm, and Ginger found herself drawn to the women despite their nosy remarks.

  “Greg!” They all turned at the sound of his name being called by a gregarious older man.

  Mabel leaned in close to Ginger. “That’s Clyde McDaniel. He’s got the hots for my sister,” she said, repeating what was probably one of her favorite phrases.

  “Mabel!” Miriam’s startled exclamation belied her actions when she stood up straight and smoothed her hair.

  Mr. McDaniel appeared to be in his mid-seventies despite the boyish look on his face. He wore a red ball cap, blue jean shorts, and a blue polo shirt. Black-framed glasses covered clear, blue eyes, and the lines beside his upturned mouth and at the corner of his eyes appeared to be more from laughter than age. His smile encompassed them all as he drew near. He shook Greg’s hand. “Great get-together once again, Greg. I think next year you should have a croquet set available for us old fogies, though.”

  Greg laughed. “I don’t see any old fogies. Clyde, I would like you to meet our new office administrator, Ginger Carmichael. Ginger, this is Clyde McDaniel. We’ve built several of the strip centers he owns around town, and fortunately, he has plans for many more in the near future.”

  “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, young lady.” Clyde shook her hand. “I’ve heard you’re doing a wonderful job of making sure the Tucker boys toe the line. If they ever give you any trouble, you just give me a call. I know all their secrets.”

  Ginger laughed, instantly liking the older man. “That is good to know.”

  Clyde turned then and pulled his cap off with a slight bow. “Miriam. Mabel. It’s nice to see you here this afternoon.”

  Miriam smiled, and a soft pink glow spread across her cheeks. How absolutely precious. Ginger was happy she was able to witness the mating game of senior citizens, noting it wasn’t much different from any other age group.

  Mabel rolled her eyes. “I’m hungry.”

  Clyde held out both arms. “Please let me escort you to the tables. I believe Steve was cutting one of the briskets.”

  Miriam and Mabel hooked their arms in Clyde’s and started toward the covered pavilion. After they had taken a few steps, Mabel looked over her shoulder and winked with a wide smile.

  “I’m going to take a wild guess and assume Mabel is a trouble maker,” Ginger said, not able to hide her amusement.

  “Most definitely. And she wears that badge proudly. You are going to see a lot of those three. They really are our favorite clients.”

  “I can see why. I already love them.”

  “This romance thing between Clyde and Miriam has been going on for a couple of years,” he said as they made their way toward the food. “I am really looking forward to the time one of them gets the courage to carry it to the next level. Mabel has been pushing Miriam to let Clyde know how she feels, but Miriam is old-fashioned. According to Mabel, Miriam is waiting for Clyde to state his intentions first.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. She doesn’t want to embarrass herself or get hurt.”

  “Maybe, but she’s missing out on the special time she and Clyde could be having together. Why let fear ruin the magic that love creates?”

  Ginger looked down at the ground before Greg could see her expression. Those were definitely not the words of someone who only cared about their own self.

  ****

  Gripping the bat firmly, Ginger lifted it over her shoulder, her stance purposeful and determined. Shutting out the encouraging shouts and clapping from her teammates and the spectators, she stared at Mike, the pitcher for the opponents, daring him to throw the ball. He really was good. She’d give him that. However, Ginger wasn’t intimidated. She’d been pitted against better pitchers than him during her softball days and almost always came out on top.

  She watched him carefully as he prepared to release the ball. She could tell from his stance he was going to gently lob one over so the “little lady” would have a chance to hit the ball. How considerate of him. And how foolish.

  Mike’s problem was he was a bit of a chauvinist, not giving the women on his team, or Ginger, the benefit of the doubt when it came to their ability to play the game. She allowed herself a small smile. He was about to find out how wrong he was.

  Whack!

  The game lasted two hours. It was a hard-fought battle, but in the end, the Tucker team pulled off a win by two points. Ginger waited until everyone was distracted by the good-natured backslapping and high fives following the game before she picked up her equipment and unobtrusively headed toward the picnic tables.

  Her home run in the fifth inning had put the Tucker team up by a point, and the barrage of congratulations from her teammates had been slightly embarrassing, but that wasn’t the only reason she was anxious to leave the ball field. Something changed during the game, a subtle shift alerting her senses she was on the verge of slipping into forbidden territory. One minute she was laughing, running to home plate where her teammates had gathered to congratulate her, and the next minute she looked up and saw the enigmatic expression on Greg’s face as he watched her from his position at the edge of the group.

  A slow smile crossed his face, his eyes turned to deep liquid pools, and her heart jumped to her throat. He didn’t come any closer. He didn’t slap her hand, give her a hug, or even utter a single word, but the look on his face shocked her consciousness, sending tingling waves of feeling throughout her body, a sensation much more powerful than a physical touch.

  It had scared the hell out of her. This was not a normal reaction to a friend. It wasn’t a reaction she wanted to feel at all. Her life was beginning to settle down into a comfortable pattern with a great job, a house she could now afford to fix up, and some really good friends. She wasn’t about to screw all that up by developing an attraction to a man who couldn’t pass the most important qualification on her list.

  Her feelings for him were escalating quickly from friendship to something more, and she couldn’t let that happen. How could her resolve of just a few months ago be shaken so easily by the short time she’d interacted with Greg Tucker? She must have the spine of a stick of butter.

  ****

  Greg frowned as he watched Ginger walk away. For the life of him, he cou
ld not figure out why she was leaving the ball field in such a hurry. From all appearances, she’d thoroughly enjoyed herself. Hell, she’d been the star of the game. Ah…that’s it.

  She didn’t like being the center of attention. All the accolades regarding her better-than-average baseball skills must have made her uncomfortable. He would be careful not to mention anything about the game when he caught up with her. He couldn’t deny, though, out of the many games they had played during the company picnics, he had enjoyed this one the most, by far.

  Watching Ginger play had been a real treat. Whether she was hitting a home run, fielding a pop fly at second base, or catcalling at the other team from the dugout, she had completely thrown herself into the game, making it fun for everyone.

  And sometime during the game, Greg had come to realize Ginger was unquestionably the real deal. He also felt that finally, here was a woman he could actually date: dinner, dancing, the works, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her losing her head over him. She was strong and independent, definitely not a gold-digger, and certainly not a fragile flower hoping some guy would come along to take care of her.

  He grinned. Pity the man who rushed in and tried to hang a ceiling fan for her. He just might end up being whacked by the blades…before they were attached to the fan!

  Was he at risk of losing his head over her? He recalled the scene in her foyer the other day after he saw her talking to her neighbor. He had wanted to make a point. Show her how vulnerable a single woman could be when faced with an aggressive male. The situation had quickly spiraled out of control, but she had matched his ardor breath for breath.