Hammer, Nails, and Happily Ever After?

by Mitzi Kelly

  It was embarrassing, really. She couldn’t tell Greg she’d been jumpy all day yesterday and the slightest noise had her running to the front window to look outside. Part of her had been hoping he would come by, and part of her had been wary of unwanted flowers arriving on her porch.

  Distracted, she hadn’t focused on the repair work she started on the walls in her living room. She was carrying a tray of sheetrock mud up the ladder when Jack suddenly jumped up from his corner and ran to the front door. Startled, she lost her balance, and it was a race to see what would hit the floor first—her rear end or the tray of mud. It had turned out to be a tie.

  She waved goodbye to Gerald and pulled out of the parking lot, her thoughts reflective on the irony of her feelings regarding romantic relationships. Her personal opinion about everlasting love where she was concerned did not apply to the magic she knew existed when two people fell in love and took the time to unwrap the unique gifts each brought to the relationship with honesty and sincerity. She hoped Gerald would find that magic with Julia.

  It just wasn’t in the cards for her right now.

  Half an hour later, she unlocked her door and steadied herself to accept Jack’s usual exuberant display of affection, keeping her right hand well away from the big dog. Scrambling to stay upright, she navigated her way to the back door and let him out, wondering if she should enroll him in doggie school. She really wasn’t making much progress with this whole manners thing.

  She grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and headed to the bedroom to change into shorts and a tank top. She couldn’t wait to see what the sample colors looked like once they were applied to the wall. Certain men she knew might think she was an invalid with her sprained wrist, but she’d worked with more serious injuries than this before. It was awkward working with her left hand, but if she was careful, she could manage. Besides, she didn’t intend to tell either one of them she’d ignored their advice and applied the paint. What they didn’t know couldn’t hurt…her!

  She’d just raised the trunk of her car when a black pickup truck pulled up beside her in the driveway. She froze. The last person she’d expected to see was Greg Tucker. What is he doing here?

  He stepped out of the truck, and she snapped out of her paralysis, quickly slamming her trunk closed and shoving the keys in her front pocket. “Um…hello.” She hated that her voice sounded guilty even to her own ears. She avoided his eyes and walked to the opposite side of her car where she thumped the back tire with her bare foot. “I’m checking my tires. The ride home seemed a little rough today.”

  He placed his hands on top of the car, his lips twitching as he watched her. “Your tires look fine to me.”

  She looked up, placing her good hand in her back pocket. “Yeah, well, you weren’t the one driving the car.”

  “That’s true. Do you want me to drive it around the block to see if I notice anything wrong?”

  “No…um, no, but thanks anyway. I’ll see how it does in the morning. It could have just been that the road was rough.”

  He grinned. “That’s probably all it was. I assume you were checking the condition of your spare tire in the trunk in case you need it, right?”

  She glared at him. “Why are you here, Greg?” And why do you have to look so gorgeous? She had never really understood the term male magnetism before, but this man clearly defined the meaning.

  He was very handsome in khakis and dress shirts, and he was extremely attractive in jeans and polo shirts, but he was drop-dead gorgeous in cutoff jeans and old, sleeveless T-shirts as he was dressed now, the well-defined muscles in his arms and legs contrasting sharply against his casual attire. Here was a man who was comfortable with himself and his environment, completely unaware of his powerful effect on her and probably countless other women. He was just so…male!

  He pushed away from the car and walked to stand in front of her. “After my meeting this afternoon, I called Gerald to go over the plumbing work he’ll be doing tomorrow. While we were talking, he happened to mention something had come up, and he would not be able to help you with the paint samples until tomorrow evening. I had a sneaky feeling you wouldn’t want to wait until tomorrow, so I came by to help you. Of course, if you’d rather work on your car, I can help with that, too.”

  She held a straight face as long as she could, but finally the laugh escaped, and she shook her head. “I was actually going to curl up with a good book and rest my hand, but since you’re here, I’d love to get the paint colors on the wall.”

  “That’s what I figured,” he said, his deep voice full of amusement. “Where’s the paint?”

  Pulling her keys out, she walked to the rear of her car. “In the trunk.”

  “I never would have guessed.” He reached into the trunk of her car and pulled out the paint. “You need to get a truck, woman. With or without an injured hand, it’s too hard to pull heavy items out of this trunk.”

  “I’ve actually thought about that. I used to drive my dad’s truck all the time.”

  “They’re also much safer. If you were ever in a wreck, your chances of avoiding a serious injury are much better in a truck than a compact car.”

  She looked at him as he closed the trunk. Of all the reasons to get a truck, safety was not something she’d thought about. However, she remembered Gerald had said something about Greg being in a bad accident. Had he been driving a small car at the time? She was about to ask him about that when he hoisted the container of paint samples on his shoulder and nodded toward the door. “Lead the way, boss.”

  She darted ahead of him to open the front door, trying not to make too much out of his unexpected visit. The earlier tension at the office seemed to have faded, but she was realistic enough to know what this gesture was truly about. Regardless of how disappointed he was at what he thought was a flaw in her character, he was still a compassionate friend, one who wouldn’t want her to hurt herself.

  Ginger held the front door open as he carried in the paint. She tried to curb some of Jack’s enthusiasm when he saw Greg, but it was pointless. However, as soon as Greg set the paint down in the foyer, he turned to Jack, and with a few stern commands, the dog calmed down and sat, looking at Greg expectantly.

  Geez…I’m the one who feeds the two-timing mutt!

  “He’s doing better, isn’t he?” Greg asked with a final pat on Jack’s head.

  “Much.” She rolled her eyes.

  “So you were planning on curling up with a good book, were you?”

  She followed his gaze into the living room. She’d pulled the furniture away from one wall and covered that section of the floor with plastic. A couple of paint brushes, a paint tray, and a screwdriver sat innocently at the edge of the plastic, awaiting the start of the project. “I was, eventually. And before you get all bossy on me, I moved the furniture before I hurt my hand.”

  He grinned. “Well, then, let’s git ’er done,” he said, his Larry the Cable Guy imitation down pat. He carried the paint over onto the plastic and opened one of the lids with the flat edge of a screwdriver.

  She peered over his shoulder eagerly. She was itching to help, to grab a brush and apply some of the paint to the walls, but she knew he would only lecture her about resting her hand. Since that would only delay the project, she reluctantly kept her hands by her side. He reached for a paint brush, poured a small amount into the tray, and started to apply the first color to the wall, his movements smooth and fluent.

  “This is the color I was the least sure about,” she said thoughtfully as she watched him, running a critical gaze over the light tan tint.

  “You know it’s going to darken some as it dries.” He applied enough paint to cover a good section of the wall.

  “Yeah, but I can usually get a good idea of what it’s going to look like the minute it’s on the wall. I must say, it’s not quite as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

  “Well, we’ve got three more colors to go,” he reminded her.

  “I know, and I c
an’t wait. Can’t you work a little faster?”

  He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Make yourself useful, woman, and get me a beer.”

  For the next half hour, they chatted easily about some of Tucker Construction’s jobs, the amazing photography Steve had done on a commercial project they were in the process of bidding on, and Justin’s landscaping goals for their own home. Ginger had plopped down on the floor, resting her back against a wall. Jack lay beside her, his big head in her lap. The conversation was light and friendly, each of them carefully avoiding personal topics.

  More than once, she’d been on the verge of blurting out she wasn’t the kind of woman he thought she was, but she caught herself just in time, reminding herself she wasn’t going to offer an explanation. It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her, but unfortunately, it did. A lot.

  “Okay.” He stretched his back. “That’s the final color. When it’s dry, you can choose your favorite.” He gathered up the paint tray and brushes and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

  She started to stand. “I’ll clean those up.”

  He shook his head and pointed a paint brush at her. “Sit and just admire the results you were fortunate to witness from an expert craftsman.”

  She gave Jack a wry look. “Even you could slap some paint on a wall,” she muttered under her breath.

  “I heard that!”

  Chapter Eleven

  Greg sat down on the floor next to her and braced his back against the wall. He stretched out his long legs and handed her another beer. He was so close she could see the tiny lines around his eyes. She listened to his comments regarding the pros and cons of each color, but she had trouble focusing on his words. She was distracted by just how close he was, how his fresh, earthy scent invaded her senses, and how his voice tingled down her spine.

  “So have you decided on a color yet?”

  She blinked and then looked at the wall. “I think I like the third color.”

  He clinked his beer bottle on hers. “You have impeccable taste. That’s the one I like, too.”

  “Ah.” She grinned. “Two great minds…”

  At that moment, Jack raised his head and looked at them.

  Greg reached over and rubbed his head. “Okay, three great minds.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, Ginger looking at the wall and Greg looking at his beer. His nearness was electric. Her skin vibrated with cognizance. They were sitting side by side, and if she moved one inch to the right, her leg would be touching his. And just when she thought she would lose the battle, and her leg would move on its own volition and slam into his, he raised his beer and took a sip.

  “When I was cleaning the brushes, I noticed the roses were missing. Did you place them on your nightstand where you can see them first thing in the mornings and the last thing at night?”

  Her jaw dropped, but she quickly composed herself. The damn roses. If he meant for his tone to come across as light and casual, he’d failed miserably. She’d been struggling to control her urge for a match of leg wrestling while he was wondering how close his assumption was about her and her past.

  It was none of his business, but something deep down inside of her rebelled against his inaccurate opinion of her. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was her own insecurities, but whatever it was, it demanded she tell him the truth.

  It took her a moment to start talking. “Have you ever been in love?” Her voice was low and soft, and she kept her gaze glued to the bottle she held.

  He didn’t answer right away. After a moment she raised her head and looked at him. His jaw had tightened, and his eyes held a faraway look. Finally, he took a long drink of his beer. “Once. Turns out it wasn’t real, though.”

  She almost dropped her bottle. That certainly wasn’t the answer she’d expected. He’d never even hinted at having a serious past relationship. And though his voice had been calm and matter-of-fact, she sensed he’d intentionally buried the memory so he would never have to think about it.

  She could have told him that never worked.

  “What happened?” she asked softly.

  He gave her a small, bitter laugh and took another swig from the bottle. “It’s no big deal. We were talking about you, you know.”

  She waited a moment, but it was clear he wasn’t going to discuss it any further. She’d just had a small glimpse into another facet of what embodied the total man, and her curiosity demanded more information.

  He’d been hurt, of that she had no doubt. With that thought came the certain knowledge he’d taken steps to protect himself. Was this why he promoted the image of a playboy, never allowing himself to get serious about anything?

  She lowered her head and bit back the questions she wanted to ask. She would respect his wishes not to talk about it. For now.

  She took a deep breath, and her lips twisted in a wry grin as she began her own story. “We seem to have a lot in common. As it turns out, I thought I was in love, too.” She worked the label on the bottle with her thumbnail. He turned toward her, but if she stopped now, she might never find the courage again to explain. “His name was Todd Greene. I met him shortly after my parents died. I’m sure professionals would say I was vulnerable. However, I’d say I was just plain stupid.”

  “Ginger, you don’t have to tell me any of this. I was being nosy, and I’m sorry.”

  She rested her head back against the wall and ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “I was working through lunch one day, and Todd walked in. He was there to see my boss. Todd and I started talking, then we started dating, and then we started…well, the relationship turned serious, and I thought I’d found the man of my dreams. I was so happy,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “There were so many signs that should have warned me it wasn’t an honest relationship, but I ignored them all. I wanted to marry this man, for God’s sake! I still get embarrassed just thinking about it.”

  Greg’s eyebrows drew together. “So what happened?”

  She took a sip of her beer. “He was already married,” she said, a small giggle escaping. “There was already a Mrs. Greene, who I’m sure wasn’t aware her dog-slut husband was dishonoring their blissful wedding vows. I almost feel sorrier for her than I do myself. Almost,” she stressed, “because he made a bigger fool out of me than her.”

  “You weren’t a fool,” he stated, his voice unusually gruff. “You can’t blame yourself for being deceived.”

  “That’s not even the funniest part. Everyone I worked with knew he was married, and nobody told me. People I thought I was close to, people I thought who cared, and nobody told me he was married. Nobody wanted to step up and be the one who hurt me. God, how stupid is that?” The anger and humiliation returned, and bitterness had crept into her voice, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. She thought she’d buried the worst of the resentment long ago, but it was as if by telling Greg her most painful incident, a storm gate had opened, and she couldn’t stop the flood of words.

  “I discovered Todd had another character flaw as well. Not only was he a lying cheat, he was also a very mean man, and that shocked me almost as much as discovering he was married. I guess his ego wouldn’t allow him to believe I never wanted to see him again because he kept calling my office and my cell phone. It was driving me crazy, so when he came by my apartment, I decided to set him straight once and for all. However, opening my door was a mistake.

  “He tried sweet-talking at first, and when that didn’t work, he pushed through the door. He grabbed my shoulders and starting shaking me, calling me every ugly name in the book. When I struggled to break free, he pushed me, and I landed on the floor. He stood over me and gave me this sneer. He said I’d be begging him to come back before long.”

  By the time she finished speaking, tears were slowly slipping down her cheeks. Disgusted with herself, she averted her face and swiped at the tears. I am not going to cry!

  Quietly, Greg reached over and took the beer from her hand, carefully placing
it on the floor beside his. Then he gently drew her into his arms. She resisted at first, but then pent up emotion she’d not even been aware of exploded. She collapsed against him and started to sob. He murmured soft, soothing words as she clutched the front of his T-shirt.

  How much time passed before she was able to regain some control, she couldn’t say, but as the flood of emotion dissipated, embarrassment rose. The room was quiet, offering no distraction from the feel of Greg’s chin resting on top of her head as she nestled against his chest. His strong arms encircled her, and she felt safe and cared for. She was also starting to feel something else. She opened her eyes and blinked.

  He must have noticed the subtle shift in the atmosphere as well. His head lifted, and one hand slowly rose to brush gently against her cheek. At that same moment, Jack stood from where he lay at their feet and walked over to Ginger’s side. He looked directly at Greg and then stuck his cold nose in Ginger’s ear.

  She squealed and pulled away from Greg who was laughing out loud. Jack plopped down on his belly, his tail wagging furiously. She shook her head and ruffled the big dog’s neck before throwing her arms around him in a big hug. Saved by the bell…uh, the nose.

  Greg ran his hand through his hair. “Jack probably figured I wasn’t cheering you up fast enough.”

  It was more likely her dog had sensed she was about to do something stupid. She didn’t raise her head when she said, “I’m so sorry about losing it. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Greg cleared his throat—twice. “No need to apologize. We all need a friend to lean on now and then. I hope you can find a way to get over Todd Greene, though. He’s not worth your tears.”

  She did turn then, and her eyebrows rose. “Get over him? I was over Todd Greene a long time ago. He is nothing but pond scum. What I am not over is the humiliation. I am not over the feeling of betrayal, and I am not over having to accept my so-called friends knowing I was falling in love with a married man and saying nothing. That’s what I’m not over!” she said bitterly as she climbed to her feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go splash water on my face.”