Читать книгу Every Kind of Heaven & Everyday Blessings: Every Kind of Heaven / Everyday Blessings - Jillian Hart - Страница 12

It was a beautiful Monday morning, and Ava was on her way to meet the construction dudes. Okay, in truth, she was going to ply them with her special batch of homemade doughnuts and signature coffee. She might not be the brightest bulb in the pack, but she wasn’t the dimmest. It was only common sense that people worked better when they were well fueled.

This renovation was a step toward her dream. Tangible and real, and all the hammering and sawing and dust to come would transform the dingy little place into a baker’s delight. This was fabulous, something to celebrate, right?

Right. At least, she should be feeling so buoyant with happiness that she ought to be floating. But sadly her happiness felt subdued and superficial like icing on the cake, and nothing deeper. Why?

She’d been down a little ever since Brice Donovan’s call. Did that make any sense?

No. So what was all this being sad stuff about?

Concentrate on the positive, Ava.

She screeched into the closest parking space since her favorite spot—right beneath the shade of a broad-leafed maple—was already taken by a big forest green pickup truck. It was the ostentatious kind that looked as if it cost more than a house. There was a lot of chrome glinting in the low-rising sun and big lights on top of a custom cab. It probably belonged to one of the construction guys.

Yep, there was one standing on the sidewalk with his back to her. He seemed to be looking over the front of the shop with a contractor’s discerning eye.

She cut the engine and grabbed her cell from the console and her bag from the front passenger seat. It was still early, only ten minutes to seven. She’d have time to get the coffee canisters set up and the doughnuts laid out before the rest of the workers arrived. She elbowed the door open, stepped down from the seat and the second her shoe touched the ground she felt it. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.

The construction worker hadn’t moved. He was still staring at the front windows—and she could see his reflection as clearly as she could see her own. He looked remarkably like Brice Donovan. That handsome face, sculpted cheekbones and chin, straight nose and strong jaw were all the same. Except for one thing—how could that be Brice? It made no sense. She gave the door a shove to close it.

She had Brice Donovan on the brain. That’s why her emotions were all off-kilter. That’s why she wasn’t fully enjoying the beautiful morning or this first momentous day of construction.

Brice Donovan. It wasn’t as if she even liked him a tiny bit. Really. So what was going on? Maybe it was stress, she decided as she circled around to the back of the vehicle and realized she hadn’t hit the door release.

No problem. She looked down at her cell phone. Where were her keys?

The automatic locks clicked shut all on their own.

Great. Wonderful. Terrific. She’d done it again! Why wasn’t she paying better attention?

Well, if she hadn’t been thinking of Brice Donovan, then she wouldn’t have been distracted. See? This was why she had to stick to her no-man policy—all the way. No exceptions. Even thinking of him just a little caused problems.

She leaned her forehead against the rear window and took a deep breath. All she needed was to call Aubrey. Plus, there was a silver lining in all this. At least this time she hadn’t locked her cell phone in, too. Hey, it could be worse.

She flipped open her phone when a startling familiar baritone rumbled right behind her. “Let me guess. You’re in need of rescuing again.”

Brice Donovan? She turned around and there he was, looking totally macho in workmen’s clothes. The lettering on the light gray T-shirt he wore said it all: D&M Construction, the name of the company she’d hired for the renovation. How on earth did he have a shirt with that company name? Did he work for them?

Then it hit her. Maybe the D stood for Donovan. Wow.

He jammed his hands into his pockets, emphasizing the muscled set of his shoulders. “You don’t look happy to see me.”

“Surprised.” So surprised she had to lean against the fender for support. “What are you doing here?”

“Rafe Montgomery was going to do the job, but I sweet-talked him into trading.”

“Lucky me.” Ava’s mind swirled. Montgomery must be the M in the company. Rafe had been a nice man who’d been her contact. “But why are you here in workman’s clothes. Aren’t you like an investment broker or something?”

“That would be my dad. Rafe Montgomery and I got to talking one night while we were studying for our graduate school exams. What we were really dreading wasn’t taking the test, it was being cooped up in an office all day. Just like our dads. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind putting in a good hard day’s work, but I felt put in a box. It wasn’t for either of us. So we pooled our resources and went into business.”

That was the most unlikely story she’d ever heard. MBA dudes who built stuff? “I’d like to think you had woodworking training. A certificate of carpentry competence.”

“I’m good at what I do, believe me.”

Oh, she did believe him. And how was it possible that he looked even better dressed for work than he had the other day in a tux? Today he looked genuine, capable and very manly.

“Let me get a coat hanger.” He strode to the green pickup and opened the crew-cab door. A big golden retriever tumbled out and ping-ponged in place in front of Brice, tongue lolling. “Whoa there, boy.”

Okay, she melted. She couldn’t help it—she was a softy when it came to dogs. “What’s his name?”

Goofy brown eyes fastened on her. That big doggy mouth swung wide, showing dozens of sharp teeth. The huge canine launched toward her, tongue out and grinning, moving so fast he was a golden-brown blur.

“Rex, no! Come back here.” Brice reached for his collar to catch him.

Too late.

Ava didn’t have time to brace herself, because the dog was already leaping on her, plopping one front paw on either side of her neck, almost hugging her. His tongue swiped across her chin. Happy chocolate eyes studied hers with sheer joy.

“Brice, I’m in love with your dog.” She couldn’t help it. The big cuddly retriever hugged her harder before dropping down on all four paws. As if he knew how much he’d charmed her, he posed handsomely, staring up adoringly with those sweet eyes.

“Excuse him. He’s very friendly. Too friendly.” Brice grabbed his collar. “This may come as a shock to you but he failed every obedience class he’s been in. From puppy school all the way up to the academy.”

“Academy?”

“I hired professionals, but in the end, he won.” Brice turned his attention to the retriever, his face softening, his big hand stroking over the crown of the canine’s downy head. He received a few swipes of that lolling tongue and laughed. “Life’s hard enough, isn’t it? Without being told what to do every second of the day.”

Ava couldn’t believe it. The big, macho, most eligible bachelor was tough looking with all his masculine strength and charm, but she knew his secret. He was a big marshmallow underneath.

Not that she was interested. Really.

“This’ll only take a second, now that I have the routine down.” He took a wire hanger—she hadn’t even noticed when he’d fetched it from his truck—and unbent it enough to slide it between the frame of the door and the roof.

True to his word, a few seconds later he’d hit the lock and was pulling her key from the ignition and silencing the alarm. He hit the back door release for her.

Okay, he was really a decent guy. On the surface anyway, and that’s the only level on which she intended to know him. He was the D in D&M Construction, so that meant for better or worse, she was stuck with him. Not that she thought for a moment he actually did the hard work. No, he was probably more of a figurehead. He probably just oversaw projects. He was Roger Donovan’s son, right?

She lifted the back and slid out the bakery box, and Rex bounded up to sniff at it.

“Hey, buddy, these are not for you.” Ava might be charmed by the big cuddly dog, but she wasn’t that big of a pushover. “Sit.”

The retriever grinned up at her with every bit of charisma he possessed.

“Look at him drool. That can only mean one thing. There must be doughnuts in that box.” There was Brice, as large as life, wrapping one big, powerful hand around the canine’s blue nylon collar. “Need any help carrying those?”

“I suppose you like doughnuts, too.”

“Guilty.” His warm eyes and dazzling grin, those dimples and personality and his hard appearance made him look good down to the soul.

She had been fooled by this type of guy before, but not this time. “These are not for you. They are for your crew. For the men who actually work for a living instead of walking around owning companies.”

“Hey, I work hard.”

“I don’t see a hammer.” She reached for a second box, but he beat her to it. It was heavy with big thermos-type coffee canisters. “I see you eyeing the thermoses and no, you may not have any of that either. Not unless you’re a construction dude, and I don’t see a tool belt strapped to your waist.”

“That’s not fair. My tools are in my truck.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure they are.”

Brice shut the door and hit the remote. Rex bounced at his hip, the dog’s gaze glued to the pink bakery box. “You know I’m the on-site manager of this project, right?”

“I’ll have to see it to believe it.” She snapped ahead of him with that quick-paced walk of hers, her yellow sneakers squeaking with each step. “I still don’t get why you’re here. Why I’m plagued with you and that dog of yours.”

She eyed him like a judge awaiting a guilty verdict, but she didn’t fool him. Not one bit. He saw in her eyes and in the hint of her smile what she was trying to hide. He wasn’t the only one wondering.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one wishing.

“Where do you want these?” he asked of the stuff he was carrying.

She gestured to the worn wooden counter in front of them, where she’d set the bakery box and was lifting the lid.

He did as she asked and nearly went weak in the knees at the aroma wafting out from the open box. Sweet cake doughnuts, the comforting bite of chocolate, the richness of custard and the mouthwatering sweet huckleberries that glistened like fat blue jelly beans.

“Where did you get these?” The question wasn’t past his lips before he knew the answer. “You made these. You.”

“Okay, that’s so surprising? I’m a baker. Hel-lo.” She rolled her eyes at him, but it was cute, the way she shook her head as if she simply didn’t know about him. Yep, he knew what she was trying to do. Because whatever was happening between them felt a little scary, like standing on the edge of a crumbling precipice and knowing while the fall was certain, the how and what of the landing was not.

She pulled a bag of paper plates from her big shoulder bag, ripped it open and pulled out a plate. She slid the berries-and-cream-topped doughnut onto the plate and handed it to him. “I saw you eyeing it.”

Had she noticed how he’d been looking at her? He thought she was two hundred times sweeter than that doughnut. “How about some cups?”

“Here.” She pulled a bag of them from her mammoth bag. “Which doughnut should I give your dog?”

Rex gave a small bark of delight and sat on his haunches like the best dog in the world. His doggy gaze was glued on the bottom corner of the bakery box.

“He’d take every last one. Don’t trust him if you leave that box uncovered.”

“Oh, he’s a good guy. It’s you I don’t trust,” she said with a hint of a grin. “You said you traded with Mr. Montgomery. I want to know why.”

Just his luck. He filled two cups with sweetened, aromatic coffee and handed her one. “How about grace, first?”

“I’ve already had my breakfast.” She took the coffee.

Their fingertips brushed and it was a little like being hit by a lightning strike from a blue sky. His heartbeat lurched to a stop. What was it about Ava that seemed to make his world stand still?

She gave him another judgmental look like a prim schoolmarm as she put a glazed doughnut on a second plate. Rex’s tail thumped like a jackhammer against the scarred tile floor. She knelt to set the plate on the floor.

“What a nice polite gentleman,” she praised, and gave him a pat.

Rex sat a moment to further fool Ava into thinking he was a perfect dog before he wolfed down the doughnut in two bites.

“You’re welcome,” she said as she patted him again and removed the plate. “Oh, some of the men are driving up now. Good.”

Brice tried not to let it bother him that she disregarded him completely as she disappeared through the kitchen door. This was not how most single ladies reacted to him. He considered the steaming cup of coffee he held and the plate with the delectable doughnut.

Lord, I’m gonna need help with this one. If it’s Your will, please show me the way.

The doors swung closed as if in answer, swinging open again to show a glimpse of Ava, washed in sunlight from the large window. Inexplicably, the sun shone brighter.

* * *

Could the morning be going any more perfectly? The homemade doughnuts were a hit. With promises of more sweet surprises for tomorrow morning, Ava made sure the fridge was stocked with plenty of liquids—it was important to keep the workers hydrated—and gathered up her stuff.

Time to get out of their way. Dust was already flying. Walls were already missing. As curious as she was to see absolutely everything, she knew she’d only be in the way. Besides, she had to work at her family’s bookstore because she had her share of the rent and utilities to pay at month’s end. Not to mention her car payment. Oh, and credit card payments. And her school loans. She grabbed her bag and was in the middle of hunting down her keys when she suddenly realized she wasn’t alone.

“Ava, I’m glad I caught you.” There was Brice, shouldering through the door. “Before you go, I want to go over your final plans.”

“I already did that with Mr. Montgomery. When we talked the other day on the phone, you know, after Chloe’s wedding, you said you wanted to stop by on Monday morning. I assumed that meant you were interested in ordering a cake. But this is why, isn’t it?”

“I can order a cake if you want.”

“It isn’t what I want that’s the question.” Really, that grin of his was infectious. Dashing and charming and utterly disarming. What was a girl to do? How was she supposed to not smile back? She was helpless here. Lord, give me strength, please. “I haven’t forgotten that you tried to ask me out. I mean, I know you changed your mind once I started insulting you.”

“The post-traumatic stress is better, by the way. Although standing in this kitchen might give me a flashback or two.” His grin deepened right along with his dimples. “You’re questioning why I’m here, right? Remember I said that you made my sister happy with her wedding cake?”

“I do.” Leery, that’s what she had to be. On guard. The kindness of his smile was like a tractor beam pulling her in. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to start liking this man.

Liking men at all—even platonically—wasn’t a part of her no-man policy. Because that’s how it had happened with Ken, the chef she dated about five months back, and that had ended in disaster. If she didn’t learn lessons from her ten billion mistakes, how was she ever going to feel better about herself?

Brice came closer, his dog trailing after him. “You made Chloe happy, and now I want to return the favor.”

Okay, she could buy that reason. It was actually a nice reason. Which only made him a nicer man in her eyes.

He set a coffee cup down on the metal table between them and gave it a shove in her direction, obviously meant for her. She hadn’t noticed what he’d been carrying.

How could she have not noticed that he was hauling with him a rolled up blueprint, too?

Keep your mind on business, Ava, she ordered herself. Really, it was that smile of Brice’s. It ought to come with a surgeon general’s warning. Beware: Might Have the Gravitational Pull of a Black Hole And Suck You Right In.

“I know you’ve gone over the plans with my partner.” Brice plopped the blueprints on the metal worktable and spread out them out with quick efficiency. He anchored each corner with a battered tape measure and hammer he plucked from his tool belt. “But what I want to know is the dream of what you want. The heart of it. Beyond the computer-generated drawings of this place.”

Okay, that wasn’t what she expected and it disarmed her even more. Emotions tangled in her throat and made her voice thick and strange sounding. “I showed Mr. Montgomery a few pictures of what I had in mind.”

“I’d like to see them.”

Their gazes met, and a connection zinged between them. A sad ache rolled through her and she didn’t know why. She refused to let herself ask. Instead, she fumbled through the top drawer in the battered cabinets. She’d left the magazine pictures here to show the woodworker, just in case.

But turning her back to him gave her no sense of privacy or relief from the aching she felt. Somehow she managed to face him again, but her hands were shaking. She didn’t want to think too hard on the reason for that either. “Here. I’m not looking for exactly this. But something warm and whimsical and unique. In my price range.”

She spread the three full-color pictures on the metal table, turning them so they were right side up for his inspection. Long ago, she’d torn them from magazines she’d come across, tucking them away for the when and if of this dream. The white frame of the pages had dulled to yellow over time, and the ragged edges where she’d torn them from the magazine looked tattered. But the bright glass displays and the intricate woodwork remained as bright and as promising as ever.

“It’s probably beyond my budget, I know, that’s what Mr. Montgomery said. But he thought he could scale it down and still get some of the feeling of the craftsmanship.”

Brice said nothing as he studied the photos, sipping his coffee, taking his time. “Why baking? Why not open a bistro? Or stay working at your family’s bookstore?”

Surprise shot across her face. “You know about the bookstore? Wait, Chloe knows. She probably told you.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Everyone knew about the bookstore. Ava’s grandmother’s family, a wealthy and respected family and one of the area’s original settlers, had owned the store forever. “I need to know what this means to you before I start on the woodwork. Isn’t that what you do before you design a cake for someone?”

“Exactly.” She took a sip of the sweetened coffee and studied him through narrowed eyes, as if she were truly seeing him for the first time.

He could see her heart, shining in her eyes, whole and dazzling. He leaned closer. Couldn’t stop himself.

She turned one of the pictures around to study. “You wouldn’t understand what I want, being Bozeman’s most eligible bachelor and all.”

“You know, I have relatives who work on the local paper. That’s where the list came from. I had nothing to do with it. I’m just a working man, so I bet I can understand. Try me.”

A cute little furrow dug in between her eyes, over the bridge of her nose. Adorable, she shrugged one slim shoulder, and for a moment she looked lost. Sad. “My mom really wasn’t happy being a wife and mother. I know that. But when I was little it felt like I was the one who made her unhappy. I was always spilling stuff and knocking into furniture and forgetting things. Not that I’ve changed that much.” She shrugged again. “This isn’t what you want to hear.”

“This is exactly right. Exactly what I want to know.”

He laid his hand over hers, feeling the warm silk of her skin and the cool smoothness of the magazine page. One picture was of bistro tables washed in sunlight, framed by golden, scrolled wood and crisp white clouds of curtains. It looked like something out of a children’s storybook, where evil was easily defeated, where every child was loved and where love always won.

That’s what he knew she saw on the page, he knew because he could see her heart so clearly.

She drew in a ragged breath, her voice thin with emotion, her eyes turning an arresting shade of indigo. “One thing that always went right was when I was with Mom in the kitchen. She wasn’t much of a baker, but I had spent a lot of time with Gran in the kitchen, she taught me to bake, and I liked the quiet time. Measuring sugar and sifting flour. Getting everything just right.”

She paused as if noticing for the first time that his hand still covered hers. She didn’t try to move away. Did she know how vulnerable she looked? How good and true? He didn’t think so. He feared his heart, hurting so much for her, would never be the same.

“This reminds you of baking with your Mom,” he said.

“Sort of. I remember the kitchen smelled wonderful when the cookies or the cakes were cooling. And afterward there was the frosting to whip up and the decorating to do. It’s the one thing I could always do right. It made everyone happy, for how ever little time that happiness lasted, it was there.”

“And then your mother left?”

Ava gently tugged her hand out from beneath his. She lowered her gaze, veiled her heart. That was a scandal of huge proportion. Everybody had known at the time, and in a small city that was really just one big small town, everybody still remembered although twenty years had passed. “I want this to be like a place where customers feel like they’ve stepped into a storybook. Not childish, just—” She couldn’t think of the word.

“You want a place where it feels as if wishes can come true.”

How did he know that? Ava took a shaky breath and tucked away the honesty she shouldn’t have hauled out like dirty laundry in a basket. She was so not a wishing kind of girl. Not anymore.

She grabbed her bag again, not remembering when exactly it had slipped from her shoulder to the floor. “I’d better get going. I’m late for my shift at the bookstore.”

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes.” The word popped out before she could stop it.

He winced. “Well, that’s not my intention. We got off on the wrong foot. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No. Yes.”

“Which is it?”

“I don’t know.” All she knew was that he felt way too close, although she’d crossed half of the kitchen on the way to the door and it still didn’t make any difference. She took a shaky breath. “I should have recognized you. I mean, I’m usually so busy in my own little world, I don’t notice everything I should.”

“Well, I didn’t introduce myself, so when you think about it, it could be all my fault.”

“You’re being too nice.”

“That’s better than being Mr. Yuck, right?”

“Maybe.”

That made his dimples flash. “What do you do with your time, besides baking incredible cakes?”

“Hang out with my sisters, mostly. Doing my part to contribute to consumer debt. That kind of thing.” And that was all she was going to share with him because anything else would be way too personal. “Okay, what did I do with my keys?”

“I might have ’em.” He reached into his back pocket and then there they were in the palm of his hand.

Oops. It looked as if she would have to move closer to him to get them. Her chest tightened and her emotions felt like one big aching mess. Was it because of the story she’d told him, about baking with her mother? Or was he the reason?

She knew the answer simply by looking at him. His appearance—the worn T-shirt, battered Levi’s and beat-up black work boots—all shouted tough guy, but in a really good, hardworking way. Add that to his kindness and class—and he was totally wishable.

Not that she was wishing.

As he strode toward her with the slow measured gait of a hunter, she didn’t feel stalked. No, she felt drawn. As if he’d gathered up her tangled heartstrings and gave them a gentle shake. There were no more knots, just one simple, honest feeling running up those strings and straight into her heart.

She didn’t want to be drawn to any man. Especially not him.

She grabbed the keys, careful to scoop them from his hand without any physical contact. But something had changed between them and she couldn’t deny it.

“Thanks,” she said in a practically normal-sounding voice. “You have my cell number if there’s a problem, right?”

“Right.”

She could feel him watching her as she yanked open the door. Rex bounded toward her and she almost forgot about Brice. She knelt down to give his head a good rubbing. “It was very nice meeting you, boy. I’ll bring some muffins tomorrow. Is that all right by you?”

Rex lapped her cheek and panted in perfect agreement.

She had one foot over the threshold when Brice’s voice called her back. “See you tomorrow, Ava. And thanks for sharing a cup of coffee with me.”

Coffee. That made her screech to a total halt. Her mind sat there, idling. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted to do in the beginning? He’d wanted to get to know her over a cup of coffee.

And he had.

She wanted to leap to the quick conclusion that she’d been tricked. But it wasn’t that simple. She’d been the one to bring the coffee in the first place. It was her coffee, her kitchen, her renovation project. It was her heart she had to hold on to as she took the other step through the door and closed Brice Donovan from her sight.