Alice grinned and nodded. “To thank me for saving her from, and I quote, ‘certain humiliation’ by alerting you that the Monet was a fake days before she was due to meet with a potential buyer.”
“That was nice. And a big step for Mum to say the words aloud rather than writing them.” He wasn’t entirely sure he believed Alice, but stranger things had happened. None that he could think of off the top of his head, but certainly something.
“It was nice, even if it wasn’t entirely true. Did you tell her I told you the Monet was a fake?” She narrowed her eyes and squeezed his arm.
“I didn’t say you said it. I said you alerted me. Which you did.” He tapped her nose, and she narrowed her eyes more. She hated having her nose tapped, and he liked how cute she looked when she got mad. He tapped her nose a lot.
“Did she thank you for your part with the Unicorn, too?”
“She did, but she’d already given me a handwritten thank you months ago when I began curating your collection. When she still didn’t quite know what to do about me.”
The one stipulation Geoffrey had made sure to include in the terms of the agreement with the investor was that Alice would be the curator of the museum. Lady Chatsworth was happy to back him on that point when she learned of Alice’s part in saving the Grey family, even if she still hadn’t been excited about Alice’s relationship with Geoffrey. But, as she got to know Alice, she came to appreciate that he’d found such a smart woman to curate her family’s collection, and she was particularly grateful that, years before, Geoffrey had stopped her from tossing the Unicorn in the rubbish pile.
“I told her you’d proposed,” Alice added.
The air went out of Geoffrey’s chest. “How did she take it? Did you tell her how? Or where?” A year before, his mother had given him a ring that had been in their family for generations with the instruction that it be used as an engagement ring for whomever he chose to marry. Of course, she’d thought Clarissa would be his choice. He didn’t know how she’d feel when she found out he’d given it to Alice.
Alice rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I told her you had surprised me at the end of our hike to the Hollywood sign by getting down on one knee and giving me the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen. Then I thanked her for picking it out for you and said that I knew it must have been an heirloom.”
“Oh, you’re good.” The plane leveled off, and Geoffrey buried his nose in Alice’s hair, breathing in the smell of her sage and lavender shampoo.
“Good enough for a kiss, I’d say.” She opened her eyes and tipped her chin. He cupped it in his hand and drew her face toward his, kissing her tenderly. There would be time for passion, but at that moment he handled her with the same care he did his unicorn painting. He hadn’t realized the painting’s real value and purpose until he’d seen it with the panels it had been separated from for so many centuries. Once he saw the complete picture it was part of, he couldn’t imagine it ever being alone again.
And in that moment, he also knew he had to spend the rest of his life with Alice. He’d started planning his proposal to her that very day.
They broke apart, and Alice lay her head on his shoulder again. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I wasn’t complete until I met you. You’re my missing piece.”
She nuzzled her head against him, whispering back, “And you’re mine.”
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
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Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next book in the ABCs of Love series,
Hooking a Handyman
Chapter 1
Zoey Peterson hoisted the second of her two overstuffed suitcases onto the bed, yanking at the zipper. Stupid thing always got stuck. When the suitcase finally fell open, Zoey sighed. The tiny closet in the tiny guest bedroom at the front of her grandmother’s house was not going to accommodate all these clothes. She looked out the window and down the familiar driveway to the street, where half an hour before, she’d tipped and said goodbye to her Uber driver. When he’d pulled up to the house, nostalgia had overwhelmed Zoey and she’d nearly leaped from the car, but now, staring at her too-full suitcase, spilling jeans and dresses onto the bed, her exuberance quickly faded. Nana’s house held so many memories, most of them happy. It was the house her mother had grown up in, the house Zoey had visited as a child every Christmas and every July. Coming to visit this time should have felt like a happy homecoming. Instead, it felt more like a walk of shame.
Well. That wasn’t entirely true. Zoey was happy to be visiting—scratch that—living with her grandmother. She just wasn’t happy that of all the family members involved in the discussion to decide who was best equipped to stay with Nana while she recovered from her stroke, Zoey was the one most capable of taking on the job. Of upending her life in Chicago and moving halfway across the country because, “Really, Zoey, you don’t have anything tying you down. No family, not even a boyfriend.”
Zoey was sure her mother’s words weren’t meant to be hurtful. She was only stating the facts. Zoey didn’t have a family. And she hadn’t been dating anyone seriously in months. Possibly enough months that they actually added up to years. Add in the fact that the news station where she’d been anchoring the morning news for the past two years had recently gone belly up? Why shouldn’t she abandon her life and move back to California?
Zoey glanced around the rest of the small room. The dresser in the corner might hold her pajamas and underwear, but her jeans, her shoes…they’d have to just stay in the suitcase. Or maybe she could buy some sort of shelving unit to push into the bottom space? Shelving would definitely help.
Zoey’s need for organization was just important enough to override her fear of home improvement stores. But IKEA wasn’t that far away. She had a master’s degree; she was smart enough to follow a set of IKEA instructions.
Zoey crossed the tiny hallway into her grandmother’s living room, where Nana sat in a recliner, her home health aide, Cassandra, sitting beside her. Cassandra had given Zoey quite the education when she’d first arrived, detailing all of the ways in which Zoey would need to watch out for Nana.
“Miss Emily,” Cassandra had said, “does not like that she has lost so much of her independence. She will try and do all kinds of things she isn’t ready to do yet. She’ll tell you she’s ready to try walking on her own, when really, she needs to be working on holding a fork. You have to be firm with her.” Cassandra had glanced at Nana then, who had rolled her eyes. “Whatever you do, don’t leave her alone.”
Not leaving Nana alone had sounded intimidating at first; Zoey had some savings, but she’d assumed she’d have to get a part-time job to help cover her personal expenses. How would that ever work out if she couldn’t leave Nana’s side? But after seeing Cassandra’s schedule, it wasn’t nearly so overwhelming. Cassandra would be around every day until five. It was only evenings and weekends that Zoey was the primary caregiver.
“Hey, Nana?” Zoey crouched in front of Nana’s chair. “I’m going to run down to IKEA and pick up some shelves for my closest. Do you mind?”
Nana smiled. “Too many shoes?” Her words held a slight slur, and it took her longer to get them all out, but her eyes were bright and sharp, which went a long way to ease the pain Zoey felt in her chest whenever she thought too hard about Nana’s stroke. They were lucky, the doctors had said. She would likely make a full recovery, regaining the abilities she lost with time and intentional therapy. It could have been so much worse.
“You know me,” Zoey said. “I shouldn’t be gone long. Less than an hour.”
“In and out of IKEA in less than an hour?” Cassandra said, raising her eyebrows. “That’s straight crazy talk.”
Nana smiled, the lines around her eyes deepening into wrinkles. She reached out and squeezed my hand. “No need. I thought of your shoes. Harry will be here tomorr
ow to put up shelves.”
“Harry?”
“My handyman.”
“Oh.” Nana had a handyman? “Well, I guess that’s great then.”
Nana raised her eyebrows suggestively. “I told you about Harry. Remember? You stick around when he comes.” She glanced at Cassandra and smiled. “He’s very handsome. Perfect for my Zoey.” She squeezed Zoey’s hand one more time then dropped it, relaxing her head back onto her chair and closing her eyes.
Zoey thought back through the many conversations she’d had with her grandmother in the past few months. They talked almost every Sunday; that was a lot of conversations. She’d often mentioned men of her acquaintance she thought Zoey should date; the divorced son of one friend, the grad student nephew of another. It’s possible she’d also mentioned her handyman, though Zoey didn’t have any specific memories.
If talking didn’t require so much effort, Zoey was positive she’d be reminding her now, detailing a long list of all the admirable qualities Harry the Handyman possessed, right down to his annual income and the presence or lack of a 401k. That’s just the way Nana rolled. She never pestered people for the details of their lives; she just got people. Understood them. She had this easy way about her that encouraged people to trust her, to let her into their lives in personal ways.
“Nana, did you say something about me to your handyman?”
Nana cracked open one eyeball, then shut it again, tilting her head to the side as if feigning sleep.
Cassandra chuckled. “I’d watch out if I were you. She’ll have your first date planned before you can say IKEA.”
The next morning, Zoey had almost forgotten the handyman was coming to install shelves. Not so much that she hadn’t taken a few extra minutes getting dressed, making sure her dark brown hair was a little more tamed than usual. She wasn’t expecting much; she didn’t know much about what constituted “very handsome” to Nana. The handyman could be balding and pushing forty. Just in case, she at least wanted to feel good about her appearance. But it wasn’t as though she watched the door all day. She went about her business, only slightly distracted by his impending arrival.
Until she returned home from the grocery store, when she really had forgotten he was coming.
Zoey pushed into her bedroom, a bag of toiletries in her hand, and screamed when she saw a man in her closet.
Her hand flew to her mouth, silencing her scream, but not before Harry the handyman—because obviously it was the handyman and not some random stranger in her closet—jumped, knocking his head on one of the shelves he’d recently installed.
“I’m so sorry,” Zoey said. “I forgot you were coming. I just didn’t expect—”
The man turned around and Zoey’s words froze in her throat. She knew Harry the Handyman’s face. Everyone knew his face. She closed her eyes for one heartbeat, then two, then turned and walked from the room, closing the door carefully behind her.
No.
It couldn’t be.
Forcing a long breath in through her nose, then out through her mouth, Zoey opened her bedroom door one more time. The handyman faced her now, a hand rubbing a blossoming goose egg on his forehead. He smiled when she met his gaze. “Hi?” he said, his voice a question. Why was his Hi a question?
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.
Zoey closed the door again, backtracking to the living room where Nana sat watching television. She perked up. “Did you see him?”
Zoey sat down on the sofa, angling herself to face Nana instead of the TV. “Nana. Why is Harrison Beckford installing shelves in my bedroom?”
Her brow furrowed. “Who?”
“Harrison freaking Beckford.”
“No, Zoey. Harry is installing shelves. Harry. The handyman.”
“Your handyman is Harrison Beckford?”
She looked at Cassandra and shrugged. “I suppose he could be. He’s always been Harry to me.”
“Who is Harrison Beckford?” Cassandra asked.
How two women could live in the US, in Southern California, and not know who Harrison Beckford was, Zoey had no idea. His home renovation show was based in LA, and it was all over cable television and Netflix. Home improvement stores were full of his brand. He had a line of tools, a line of home décor stuff. He was literally everywhere.
And now he was in Zoey’s closet.
Shaking her head, Zoey grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flipped to the home and garden channel that aired Right-On Renovations. In the middle of the day? She’d put money on reruns being on. Sure enough, it was only a matter of seconds before Harrison’s face filled the screen, explaining the steps he was planning to take to rip yellowing subway tile out of someone’s dated kitchen.
Nana scoffed. “That’s not Harry.”
Zoey looked to Cassandra for confirmation, but she only shrugged. “It is too Harry,” Zoey said. “It’s totally him. How did you even meet him, Nana?”
Nana shifted, peering at the television with squinted eyes. “He grew up around the block. He’s been cutting my grass and doing odd jobs since he was fifteen.”
Cassandra laughed softly. “I thought he looked familiar. You just don’t ever think you’re seeing people from the TV when they walk in the back door all casual-like.”
Zoey leaned back in her chair. “Have you never asked him about his work? The fact that he’s a nationally known TV star has never come up?”
“Why would it come up? He’s a handyman. That’s his work,” Nana said.
“Technically, she’s right.”
The three women turned to see Harrison standing in the living room entry, a sheepish expression on his face.
“Harry,” Nana said. “What is all this nonsense about you being on TV? Is it true?”
Harrison moved across the small room and leaned over Nana, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I’ve got to pay the bills somehow, Miss Emily. To be honest, I thought you knew.”
The man was clearly at ease in Nana’s presence, though of course he would be if he’d been helping her out since high school. He didn’t look that old, but his show had been on the air at least five or six years. He had to be close to thirty.
He turned and looked at Zoey. “Sorry for startling you earlier.”
“It’s my fault,” she said quickly. “I knew you were coming over. I mean, I didn’t know you were coming over. Just that someone, some not-famous someone, was coming.” She swallowed. “Sorry. You probably hate it when people make a big deal out of it.” She took another deep breath. She’d needed a lot of those lately. She stood up and smoothed her hands down the legs of her jeans before extending her hand. “I’m Zoey.”
Harrison’s handshake was firm and warm, and something stirred in Zoey’s gut. He really was handsome. “My friends call me Harry.”
“Harry, then.” Was he holding her hand a beat longer than normal?
“Come on,” he said, finally releasing her hand. It was definitely a longer than normal handshake. “Your closet is finished. Want to see it?”
Zoey smiled. “Lead the way.”
She waited for Harry to leave the living room before glancing over her shoulder at Nana and Cassandra who both watched, matching grins on their faces. “Oh my gosh,” Zoey mouthed silently, before following People magazine’s “hottest home renovator to hit television in decades” out of the room.
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The ABCs of Love
Released titles include:
Falling for her Foe: A is for Author
Besting the Undercover Boss: B is for Billionaire
Catching her Cowboy Crush: C is for Cowboy
Dreaming of the Next Door Doc: D is for Doctor
Embracing her Ever After: E is for Engineer
Falling for a Former Flame: F is for Firefighter
Gambling on a Gentleman: G is for Gentleman
Gambling on a Gentleman: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love) Page 17