Читать книгу Every Kind of Heaven - Jillian Hart - Страница 10

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 have been thinking of Brice Donovan then she wouldn’t have been distracted. See? This is 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 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 jellybeans.

“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.