Читать книгу Claiming The Single Mom's Heart - Glynna Kaye - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“Things could have been worse,” Sunshine admitted to Tori as she closed the apartment door behind her Wednesday night. “Nobody stoned me, although I did see Gideon eyeing a molded concrete owl used as a doorstop in the public library’s conference room.”

More than once, though, she’d wished for the calming presence of Co-op member Benton Mason, her loyal supporter on about any stance she took. But he was working at his part-time maintenance job at Hunter’s Hideaway tonight.

Tori set aside the book she’d been reading, her gaze sympathetic. “How was the turnout?”

“Good. About seventeen. Eighteen, maybe.” She moved into the open area that served as a dining/living room to put a folder of meeting notes and Grady’s printouts on a flat-topped trunk. Then she dropped into a chair opposite where Tori was seated on the sofa and proceeded to rummage through her fringed leather purse. “You haven’t seen a sparkly turquoise pen wandering around here have you? I went to pull it out tonight and it was gone.”

“No. That’s the one your father gave you for high school graduation, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Graduation had been one of the few milestones in her life that Gordon Haynes had remembered to acknowledge. Her wedding and the birth of Tessa had escaped his radar. She sighed and set aside her purse, determined to look for the sentimental item later. Then she glanced at the closed door leading to Tessa’s bedroom. “Did you have any trouble getting her to bed?”

“Not too much, although at first she insisted on waiting for you to get home. She wanted to make sure you didn’t get locked out. I told her I’d make sure.”

“I don’t know what’s made her so anxious these past few weeks. It started shortly before school started.”

“Even kindergarten can be demanding. Schools expect a lot out of kids these days.”

“I suppose. But at least this district seems to focus on the basics, on getting the kids grounded academically. I guess we’ll wait and see how many times she comes to get me tonight.” With a sigh, Sunshine scooted forward to adjust a throw pillow behind her back, then settled in once again.

“Thanks again, Tori, for helping out with her. With the gallery and all the behind-the-scenes business that goes with it, I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to meet with potential voters outside the arts community. You know, to find out what their vision is for Hunter Ridge. Although I might edge out Irvin Baydlin, I know the likelihood of beating Elaine Hunter is slim. But I don’t stand a chance with either of them if I can’t convince others that I can adequately represent them, too.”

“I’m more than happy to be here. With things up in the air between Heath and me...” She gazed down at the diamond engagement ring on her left hand.

“He’ll come around.”

But for reasons that weren’t yet clear, Tori’s fiancé had decided they needed space. So at Sunshine’s invitation, she’d loaded her car with clothes and the tools of her artistic trade and come to Hunter Ridge.

“I appreciate, too, that you’re willing to help me with family research while you’re here. I haven’t had any free time to explore the truth of anything I remember Grandma saying. Honestly, I don’t know where to start.”

With little time to call her own, she hadn’t so much as confirmed that her great-great-grandparents had been in this region at the same time as the Hunters whose descendants now called this area home. She had no idea if “the ridge of the hunter” her Apache great-great-grandmother had purportedly referred to was truly a reference to Hunter Ridge—or just a coincidence.

Tori drew in a breath, her expression doubtful. “About that research, Sunshine. I’m not sure that—”

Her words were halted by a knock at the door that led to small studios, storage space, a fire escape and stairs to the gallery below.

“Hold that thought, Tori. I think Candy’s here to let me know she’s locking up for the night.” The gallery hours were ten to six, but two nights a week—Wednesday and Saturday, mid-May through mid-September—they remained open until nine. Candy had covered for her while Sunshine met with the Co-op members.

“Hey, Sunshine.” Ever perky, the early-twenties brunette standing in the hall was nevertheless smiling more than usual. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a man downstairs who’d like to speak with you.”

“Does he have a name?”

Her fair cheeks flushed and she lowered her voice. “He didn’t say and I forgot to ask. I guess I got flustered. He’s one of those ruggedly handsome types with dreamy eyes, a yummy voice and a killer smile.”

The description fit blond-haired, blue-eyed Sawyer Banks, owner of the Echo Ridge Outpost down the street. Sunshine had run into him at the grocery store that day and they’d chatted a few minutes. But as a newcomer to town, Candy hadn’t yet met many of the locals and certainly not one who didn’t hang out with the artsy set. But Sawyer was hardly the type to come calling to borrow a cup of sugar, so he must have something else on his mind.

“I’ll be right back, Tori.” She followed Candy down the stairs.

At the bottom of the steps, she didn’t immediately see him as her gaze swept the open space, its hardwood floors glinting under soft, strategically placed lighting. Breathing in the faint, familiar scent of oil paints and leather, she noted with satisfaction the pleasing arrangement of the Co-op’s offerings. Oils, watercolors and acrylics. Pottery. Ceramic tiles. Leather handbags. Jewelry. Embroidered pillows and clothing. As the daughter of artists, albeit one of them a mostly absentee father, Sunshine felt right at home.

Candy having hurried on her way home through the front door, Sunshine called out to the seemingly empty space, “Hello?”

“Over here,” a low male voice returned and, as she looked toward the rear of the gallery, her heart lurched.

Not Sawyer. Grady Hunter.

Dressed in jeans, work boots and a gray long-sleeved chamois shirt, the big man looked out of place surrounded by clear glass shelving and spotlighted by canister lights. Or was it that the gallery appeared incompatible in the presence of the broad-shouldered, dark-haired man?

“What brings you here this evening, Mr. Hunter?” Surely he hadn’t expected her to drive out to his place tonight to return the printouts immediately after the meeting? But she’d have to turn them over to him now—so there’d be no follow-up visit to the hallowed halls of Hunter’s Hideaway. She should have snapped a picture of those old photos on his walls when she’d had a chance.

His expression intent, Grady gently placed a delicate piece of hand-blown glass back on the shelf in front of him. Then he looked up at her with a proud smile, as if relieved that his big hands had successfully accomplished the feat.

“It’s Grady, Sunshine. Remember?”

His blue eyes skimmed appreciatively over her as he approached and, to her irritation, her heart beat faster. Oh, yes, he was as engaging as the rumors had suggested. That disarming grin and unexpected cooperative spirit at their last two meetings had caught her off guard. But she was ready for him tonight. Armor in place.

Nevertheless, she offered a smile, finding it difficult to suppress. But she’d make him ask her for the printouts, if only to see what excuse he’d make for coming to collect them. “How may I help you...Grady?”

He nodded toward the north wall of the gallery. “I’m giving you a heads-up that there will be increased activity next door for the next couple of days.”

He couldn’t have phoned the gallery and left a message? “Activity, as in noise?”

“Bingo. I’ve discussed it with Ted and we think we can work things out to meet our deadline with only weekday disturbance.”

“Thank you.” Cooperative and considerate. And although Candy was right—he did have dreamy eyes and a yummy voice—she couldn’t let that distract her.

“So...” He tilted his head. “How did the meeting go tonight?”

Uneasy about that, was he? He didn’t look uneasy, though. In fact, as usual, he appeared as relaxed and self-assured as she’d expect a privileged Hunter to be. But hadn’t there been a fleeting uncertainty in his eyes when he’d turned over the printouts to her yesterday?

“I can’t say there was celebrating in the streets, but the drawings you provided set the minds of the majority at rest. At least for now.”

“Glad to hear it.” But a crease formed on his forehead. “No concerns I need to be made aware of?”

How much should she tell him? Certainly not the details of a sometimes heated discussion. As expected, Gideon had pointed out that they wouldn’t be stuck in this position if she hadn’t negotiated the lease renewal for three years. Also, that by now advising them not to take any action at this point, she was cozying up to the opposition in the upcoming election. But, fortunately, most members saw the reasonableness of her counsel.

She moved away to straighten a sculpture on its pedestal, then glanced at Grady. “There were some concerns, yes. That occasional game processing taking place right next door might be off-putting to the clientele the gallery is attempting to attract. A few members were, shall we say, disturbed. There was...talk of a petition.”

* * *

A petition? “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Unless you plan to use this issue to boost your standing at the polls.”

Color tinged her cheeks. “I didn’t say it was my idea.”

“Everything was done aboveboard, out in the open. I don’t know who told you that space was to be a bookstore. Maybe it was someone’s idea of a joke?”

Or the doing of his aunt Charlotte, who owned the gallery space. She and her big-city lawyers not only grabbed custody of her toddler son, but just about cleaned out Uncle Doug. That was what rallied the family to pull together and form Hunter Enterprises as a future protective measure.

“We’ve had this plan for the game supply store in the works,” he continued, “and preliminary approvals acquired long before the Co-op leased the property next door to it.”

“I understand that and I did make that point to everyone at the meeting.”

This kind of thing was exactly what Mom didn’t need—misinformed people starting up a petition that she’d have to address in her campaign. But that was the least of her and Dad’s worries right now. Despite the family’s urging, with Luke’s wedding scheduled for last weekend she’d postponed surgery until today. In fact, he’d just come back from the regional medical center in Show Low.

With effort, he drew his thoughts back to the present. “You said earlier that the Co-op signed a three-year lease, right? If Co-op members are so bent out of shape, why don’t they simply sublet this place, find a new spot and be done with it? There are plenty of available properties.”

In fact, Hunter Enterprises had bought several—like the one where the game supply store would go—to keep longtime friends from going bankrupt. But others were now bank owned or the absentee owners continued to fork over the mortgage payment until an upswing in the economy allowed them to unload the property.

Sunshine brushed back her hair. “Unfortunately, there’s a nonsublease stipulation in the contract.”

That figured. Aunt Char wouldn’t risk a Hunter subletting one of the prizes she’d managed to wrest from them.

“Look,” she continued. “I was quite firm that a petition would cause hard feelings in the community toward us—the ‘aliens.’ You have heard us called that, haven’t you?”

A glint of amusement now lit her eyes.

“Aliens. Outsiders.” His own smile tugged. “Just as I’ve heard those of us who’ve long made this our home labeled ‘old-timers’.”

“So you can see it’s not to our benefit to further antagonize the community. Or at least that’s my standpoint.”

“Spoken with the finesse of a true politician.”

“I’m not a politician. I’m merely someone who feels passionate about the arts and fair play.”

“Fair play? Pushing into a community uninvited and trying to extinguish the core character of a town?” Newcomers needed to accept Hunter Ridge for what it was or move on. Even a newcomer who looked mighty attractive tonight in denim capris, sandals and an off-the-shoulder embroidered tunic.

“Look, Grady—”

“Mommy?” A plaintive voice called from the top of the staircase and a barefooted, pajama-clad Tessa eased down one step at a time. “I think there’s something in my closet.”

Grady caught the distress in Sunshine’s eyes.

“Sweetie, there’s nothing in your closet but your clothes.”

“But there is.” The girl’s eyes widened as she spied him, and then she crouched down on the step.

Sunshine sent a look of apology in his direction. “Give me a few minutes to get her back to bed.”

“Sure. And about those building renderings I gave you...”

“I’ll drop them off tomorrow after I’ve looked at them again, if that’s okay.”

“That won’t be necessary. Shredding them would be fine.”

Sunshine frowned.

“There you are, Tessa.” A feminine voice called from the top of the staircase and a short-haired young blonde appeared, relief tingeing her tone when she spied the little girl. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I stepped into the bathroom for a minute or two.”

“It’s okay, Tori. Don’t worry about it.”

The other woman took Tessa’s hand, her gaze touching on him curiously. Sunshine caught the look.

“Tori, I’d like you to meet Grady Hunter. Grady, this is my friend Tori Janner. She’s visiting from Jerome.”

“Hunter?” The name was spoken almost cautiously.

“As in our soon-to-be next-door neighbor,” Sunshine supplied. “He stopped by to let us know to expect more activity tomorrow.”

“I’ll get out my earplugs.” She tugged lightly on Tessa’s hand and the two returned upstairs.

Grady shifted. “I’d better let you go trounce whatever is in Tessa’s closet. Monsters?”

Sunshine gave a weary sigh. “Monsters I could deal with. Moms are natural-born slayers of monsters. This, unfortunately, is a more vague anxiety that’s had her upset since shortly before school started.”

“Once she makes friends and settles into a new environment, those worries will evaporate.”

“That’s my hope.” But she didn’t sound as if she believed his words.

He moved closer to look down on her with mock chastisement. “Now, don’t you go worrying about Tessa’s worrying. You know what the Good Book says about that.”

Or maybe she didn’t know. She’d only recently started attending Christ’s Church of Hunter Ridge. Was that a politically motivated move? He’d like to think a single mom had more concern for her child’s spiritual welfare than that. But God gave people more freedom of choice than he would if running the show himself.

With a sigh, she stared down at the floor and his chest tightened. This kid thing must be getting to her.

“It’s just that...” She shook her head, lost in thought.

Without thinking, he reached out and gently lifted her chin with his fingertips, her startled eyes meeting his.

“Stop with the worrying, Sunshine.”

* * *

She froze, staring up at him as the warmth of his fingers shot a bolt of awareness through her. An unsettling, although not unpleasant feeling. But this was Grady Hunter. A male cut from the same bolt of cloth as her ex.

She stepped back to break the connection, fearful he’d feel the pounding of her heart. “Believe me, I’m doing my best not to.”

“Well, good, then.”

Their eyes remained locked for an uncomfortable moment, and then she glanced to the top of the staircase. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop off the design printouts tomorrow?”

“Like I said, destroy them.”

There went her excuse to visit Hunter’s Hideaway again.

He moved toward the door, then paused in front of a watercolor painting displayed on an easel. “I noticed that several of these bear the intertwined initials ESC. Is that you?”

The subject of this painting in particular could have clued him in on the identity of the artist, as well. The child, in partial shadow and facing slightly away, might easily be recognizable as Tessa to someone who knew her. Reluctantly, Sunshine joined him where he continued to study the painting.

“The E stands for Elizabeth. Sunshine’s always been the name I go by.” Her father, who’d been around more often in those early years, had bestowed it on her when she was a toddler.

“You’re extremely talented.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for sale?” His brow furrowed as his gaze met hers uncertainly. “A painting of your daughter?”

He sounded almost disapproving.

“It’s not a portrait.” With effort, she suppressed the defensiveness his words provoked. “It could be any little girl with a Native American patterned blanket clutched in her arms. Customers like that Southwestern touch.”

“It’s very striking.”

“Thanks.”

He moved to the door and she followed to lock up.

“You will keep me informed, won’t you?” He paused in the doorway, all business now. “I mean, if there are any developments with the Co-op members I should be made aware of? I’m available to meet with them, to answer questions and set things straight.”

“As I said earlier, I believe the proposed petition has been squelched.” At least Gideon had backed off for the time being.

Grady looked as if he wanted to say something more but instead nodded a goodbye. She locked up and dimmed the lights. Then wearily heading up the stairs, two troubling thoughts remained foremost.

Why did Grady touching her take her breath away?

And please, Lord, don’t let me be present if Grady Hunter and Gideon Edlow ever cross paths.