by Janice Lynn
“I’ve been extra-good this year and Santa’s delivering early,” Rosie whispered under her breath, elbowing Claudia. Her lively eyes sparkled with mischief. “That’s exactly what I asked for.”
Giving the newcomer a once-over, Maybelle snorted. “You ain’t been that good your whole life.”
Claudia snickered. “That’s the truth.”
“That one there makes me wish I had been,” Rosie sighed, fanning her face. “He’s easy on these old eyes. A few years back, I’d have invited him over for some of my grandma’s cinnamon bread. That never fails to warm a man over to my way of thinking.”
“Charles didn’t think much of your grandmother’s cinnamon bread,” Ruby reminded, a cheeky smile on her face as she happily sewed white yarn in and out of the plastic canvas piece she now held.
“Only because that was my first attempt at making it,” Rosie defended, obviously annoyed at the reminder. “Be grateful I didn’t have the recipe down yet or your Charles would’ve been my Charles.”
Knowing better, Ruby just smiled and kept on sewing.
Still amused at the timing of the man’s arrival, Sarah’s lips twitched. Rosie’s grandmother’s cinnamon swirl bread was the stuff legends were made of. Women had been attempting to copy the recipe for years without success. Rosie closely guarded the recipe, as she swore it was guaranteed to put a sparkle in a man’s eye. She wasn’t about to let the other town women in on her little secret.
Maybelle’s penciled-on brow arched and she made a loud tsking sound at Rosie. “If you really thought you had a chance with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Stoic there, you’d have fired up the oven and started stirring the batter.”
Rosie’s gaze narrowed but with good nature as she intoned, “I’ll stir your batter, Maybelle Kirby.”
The women laughed as one Christmas song ended and another began.
With almost every eye on him, the man scanned the room, apparently searching for something, or someone. He didn’t look impressed—more like he didn’t belong in the room or around happy people in general. With his observant, stern expression, he stuck out like a pumpkin on Christmas morning.
Despite the stranger’s serious demeanor, Rosie was right that he was easy to look at. Give the man a smile, and he’d make women of all ages swoon.
Who was he and why was he there?
“You should go say hi, Sarah,” Claudia suggested, giving her arm a nudge. “Maybe he’s a traveling man and you’ll get to see the world.”
“Ask if he’s single,” Rosie added, waggling her drawn-on brows.
“Ladies,” Sarah scolded them. “Didn’t I just remind you of the reasons why I don’t care if he’s single or not? Still, as the planner, I should see why he’s here.”
She started to stand, but another volunteer positioned closer to the door walked up to talk to the newcomer. With the music and the chatter around the room that had resumed, Sarah couldn’t hear what he said, but Carrie turned and was pointing toward Sarah’s table.
Sarah’s belly did a flip-flop.
“Do you know him?” she asked the woman sitting next to her, wondering if this handsome stranger was some long-lost son.
Maybelle squinted her eyes toward the man, then shook her head. “Can’t say as I do, but looks like we’re about to find out. He’s headed this way. Rosie, you’d best behave.”
Rosie pursed her lips at Maybelle. “I’m not making any promises. He offers to whisk me off my feet and carry me to his castle, I’m out of here.”
“He offers to whisk you off your feet and carry you off to his castle, then somebody had better call 911, because I’d have a heart attack right here and now,” Maybelle warned, her tone its usual dry sass.
Still talking to Carrie, the man nodded, then headed toward her table, too, his gaze settling on Maybelle.
“He looks more like a villain trying to storm the castle than the prince inside,” Sarah mused, studying the man’s intent expression, his broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, and his proud stride.
He definitely had a “you’d better not mess with me” vibe.
“Ma’am,” he said when he reached them, his eyes trained on Maybelle, before taking a moment to visually acknowledge each of the women at the table. His gaze lingered a millisecond when it connected with Sarah’s, almost as if he was surprised by her presence, perhaps because she was so much younger than the other women. But then his sharp blue eyes moved back to Maybelle.
Sarah gulped, wondering at the tightening in her throat at his perusal. She’d swear she’d just been mentally photographed. That they all had been, to the point where if he was called upon to give every detail of the room and the people in it, he’d be able to do so with vivid detail and perfect accuracy.
“Do I know you, son?” Maybelle never had been one to beat around the bush.
“No, ma’am.” His stance was stiff, overly formal. “But I came to Pine Hill to find you.”
“Lucky you,” Rosie stage-whispered, giving Claudia another elbow to the arm.
It was rare for anyone to surprise Maybelle, but the woman looked shocked. “Why in the world would you want to find me?”
He glanced around the table again, looking a little uncomfortable. That surprised Sarah. She doubted much got under this man’s skin. He came across as a guy who had seen a lot during his lifetime.
“Is there perhaps somewhere we could go talk in private, Ms. Smith?”
Four jaws dropped, but not Maybelle’s.
Maybelle arched a brow and gave him a look that had been straightening up naughty Sunday school children for years. “Ms. Smith?”
“The blonde at the door pointed me in this direction. You are Sarah Smith?”
Rosie’s shoe delivered a swift nudge against Sarah’s foot. Sarah knew that any second now, Rosie would be inviting him to join them for ornament making and pointing out Sarah’s ringless finger. With her stomach feeling fluttery, Sarah tucked her feet as far back beneath her chair as they’d comfortably go and attempted to use telepathy to get the woman to hold her tongue.
No doubt fully aware of Rosie’s soccer tryouts beneath the crafting table, Maybelle laughed. “Looks like your ad in the paper worked this time, Sarah, and found you a man, after all.”
Sarah knew where Maybelle’s mind had gone. It wasn’t on help-wanted ads or house repairs. Ugh.
“This one looks as if he can take anything you dish out at him,” Maybelle continued, all innocent-like.
Sarah gave Maybelle her best glare. She hadn’t dished anything out to the other handymen. She’d expected them to do their job. Hamilton House deserved better than a messy, thrown-together restoration.
If she was lucky, this guy could finish the needed remodeling to the downstairs suites and the other repairs she needed to get done prior to her Grand Opening of Hamilton House on Christmas.
“Let’s hope he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty,” Rosie piped up from across the table.
Sarah’s gaze dropped to the stranger’s hands. They did appear capable of anything she might ask of him. Sturdy, slightly calloused, with bluntly cut clean fingernails. Ringless.
Ringless?
Now why in the world had she noticed that? Because of her friends’ earlier suggestions? Or because his blue eyes were fringed with thick lashes and held intelligence and intrigue that made her want to dig deeper? Because his strong chin beneath high cheekbones indicated determination and resolve, while the tiny scar above his left brow hinted he was a man who didn’t back down when things got tough?
She didn’t need to feel Rosie’s shoe nudge hers again to know exactly why she’d noticed his bare finger. Had her friends been nowhere around, she still would’ve noticed the handsome stranger. He wasn’t a man a woman could ignore.
She’d have to be careful not to encourage the Butterflies, or they’d really be playing
Cupid.
Even if she’d been interested in meeting someone—which she wasn’t—a man who had yet to smile wasn’t her type. No matter how handsome he was.
Chapter Two
Bodie hadn’t been surprised when the old man on Main Street had told him he’d find Sarah Smith at church. She’d talked about church in her note. That the stately woman he’d identified wasn’t Sarah did confuse him.
He took in the women at the table, trying to figure out which one was Sarah. All the women were sixty-plus, save one who he’d guess to be in her twenties.
A blue-haired, ruby-red-lipped woman bared her gleaming white dentures in a flirty smile, then waved and batted her lashes at him. Was that Sarah Smith?
“As you can imagine from the ad, Sarah needs a man desperately,” a dyed redhead pointed out.
What kind of ad had Sarah put in the paper?
“You have a resume? Any photos of past jobs so we can see your work?” This came from the woman he’d first thought was Sarah Smith. “Just because she’s desperate doesn’t mean just any man will do.”
“She’s picky,” a petite woman with a grayish white bun and a round face confirmed. Had she not been sitting on the opposite end of the table from where the blond had pointed, he’d have guessed she was Sarah Smith.
“You’ll have to have references,” Blue-hair said, her face overly friendly. “And be affordable.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can compromise on the work. Doing the job right is a must.”
The older women were enough to make Bodie wonder if he’d made the right decision in coming to Pine Hill. Maybe he should’ve just written a thank-you note and been done with it.
The young woman watched the others with an expression that spoke of a mix of loving indulgence and an intense desire for them to quit talking. When her gaze met his, she gave a little shrug at the women’s rapid-fire comments. Despite the long red-and-green ribbon in her hair and the somewhat ugly Christmas sweater she wore—the first, more appropriate for a teenager, and the second, better suited to a senior citizen—he was sure that he’d been right in his first assessment of her age.
Clearing her throat to silence the older women—surprisingly successfully—the mid-twenties woman stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Sarah. I’m the one who placed the help-wanted ad.”
Bodie prided himself on rarely being caught off guard, and on not showing it when he was, but he was sure his face displayed his shock. She was Sarah Smith? This smiling young woman had been the one who made his quilt?
“Thank you for responding in person,” she continued.
Her wholesome aura hit him deep in the gut with sugary goodness that couldn’t be for real in this day and time. Warning bells clanged in his head to get out of Dodge—er, Pine Hill—but they were silenced in an instant when he looked into her warm brown eyes. The intensity of his reaction blared through his whole jaded being.
“Though a phone call would have been fine.”
His gaze dropped to her outstretched hand. Those fingers had stitched his quilt? Had lovingly held the material as she created a work of art?
All this time, he’d pictured an elderly woman whiling away time making his quilt. The only person he’d ever known to quilt had been his great-grandmother, and he’d thought hand-quilting a dying art. Never had he considered that a woman younger than him had placed the intricate stitches.
Why would she have spent the hours and hours making his quilt? Did the older women keep her locked in a tower or something? That would certainly explain her wholesome persona and why she’d spend so much time on such a time-consuming task for a complete stranger.
Her smile deepened, lighting her pretty face. “You are here about the ad, aren’t you?”
“We hope so. Sarah really does need a man,” Blue-hair managed to get out before Red elbowed her.
“Yeah, she’s never going to get that big old house fixed up by Christmas if you guys keep quitting on her,” Gray-bun said, finally clueing him into what Sarah needed a man for.
“Do her a favor and stick around to finish the job.”
Sarah blushed.
It had been a long time since Bodie had seen a woman blush, and he stared at her in continued wonder, questioning again if she was from another day and age.
The world was harsh, cruel—not filled with kind, smiling women who blushed.
Realizing that he should’ve already acted on Sarah’s outstretched hand, Bodie caught her hand just as, her smile fading, she was lowering it.
Opening his mouth, he started to introduce himself by giving his rank, then paused. Whether he liked it or not, he was a civilian now.
Heart heavy, he said, “Bodie Lewis.”
Her hand felt small in his, almost fragile. Feminine. He’d worked beside some amazing women in the military, had dated a few. None of them had hands like Sarah’s—soft, but capable of creating beautiful things.
“Nice to meet you,” she assured, pulling her hand free and looking a little disconcerted. “So you’re here about the ad. And since you came in person, I’m guessing you can start right away?”
The desperation as she asked the question pleaded with him to say yes.
She’d spent a lot of time making his quilt, had given without expecting anything in return. Now that he’d met her in person, his first impression was that she was a genuinely kind and generous person.
From what the women had said, she needed house repairs. Having grown up with a stepfather who made his living as a handyman, there wasn’t much around the house Bodie couldn’t do.
Indecision tore at him. He didn’t have to be anywhere for a few weeks.
If the woman who’d made his quilt needed his help, he should help her. He couldn’t walk away and leave her hanging after what she’d unknowingly done for him. Not if he wanted to maintain any sense of pride in himself as a man.
Without knowing what he was getting himself into, Bodie nodded. “Tell me exactly what it is you need me to do.”
“I need a favor,” Bodie said into his cell phone as he opened his truck door and motioned for Harry to jump in. The dog had patiently waited outside the church on the stoop right where Bodie had left him.
Once the dog was in the passenger seat, Bodie climbed in, shut the door, and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears.
“Okay to list you as a reference?” he asked the man on the phone.
“For a job?” Lukas Watts sounded almost as surprised at the request as Bodie was that he was making it. It was no wonder his best friend sounded shocked. A job in Kentucky certainly wasn’t in the cards when he’d left Lukas’s house early that morning.
Bodie had planned to thank Sarah, then hit the road to Texas, not go to work for her. But this wouldn’t require a major change in his plans. From the sound of things, he’d only be here for a few weeks. No problem. He had the time to spare before starting the next phase of his life.
“You’re still coming to work for iSecure?” Lukas continued. Lukas had served in the Army with Bodie for six years and had quickly become Bodie’s best friend. Lukas had opted out rather than reenlisting a few years back and had started the protective services business. They’d stayed in touch on the rare occasion when Bodie had access to communication with the outside world. Lukas and his wife had come to visit him not long after he’d been transferred to a hospital in the states. While he’d been grateful for his friend’s loyalty, he’d still hated anyone seeing him so helpless and dependent upon the nurses and therapists.
His leg and hip still ached and he had some nasty scarring, but he was slowly getting his strength and agility back. To see him now, few would guess that earlier that year he’d been told he’d never walk again. As Lukas and Kelly had taken him in after his discharge from the rehabilitation facility, they’d witnessed how far he’d come, how he’d gone from self-loathing that he’d been
the sole survivor of his unit to determination to live again—thanks to a quilt reminding him of the world beyond his harsh experiences in the Middle East and various medical facilities.
“For some reason, iSecure’s owner doesn’t want me to start until the new year,” he drawled.
“Yeah, for some reason.” Lukas laughed. “Like that busted-up hip and leg of yours and him wanting you to take some time to recharge.”
“My hip and leg are fine.” They both knew that the continued time off Lukas insisted upon had more to do with the things Bodie had seen and felt, rather than his physical injuries. The pain in his left leg and hip was nothing compared to the one in his heart at the far-too-early end to his military career, not to mention the anger that burned at the senseless death of his comrades. “The reference is for a small job I’m taking in the interim.”
“Why take an interim job at all? A few more weeks to recuperate before starting at iSecure will be good for you,” Lukas said. “Besides, you can’t start at iSecure until your official background check is approved.”
Bodie snorted. Lukas knew more about his background than a computer search would reveal. His friend knew what a bad mental place he’d been in, so it was no wonder Lukas was hesitant to put him in a possibly high-stress situation.
But if by “recuperate,” his friend meant “forget what happened,” well, that wasn’t ever going to occur. To the day Bodie died, he’d be reliving that nightmare.
He owed it to his friends not to forget.
“Should I be concerned that one of my competitors is trying to steal you away?” Lukas asked.
How could he explain the position he’d be taking? He hadn’t mentioned the detour to Pine Hill when he’d left Lukas’s that morning. How much did he tell his friend? That he’d gone to tell his quilt maker thank you and he’d gotten sucked into applying for a handyman job?
“This isn’t for a bodyguard position.” Bodie glanced down at Harry as the dog laid his head over Bodie’s thigh. Bodie swapped hands holding the phone and put his hand on the dog’s back. “I’m doing some house repairs and was asked for references. Just keep information minimal.”