Читать книгу Yuletide Hearts - Ruth Herne Logan - Страница 12

Chapter Four

McGee’s truck reappeared while the crew grabbed coffee from Jim’s wife. He braked quick, scattering stone, then climbed out, strode their way and met Matt’s gaze head-on, his expression taut. “You living here, Cavanaugh?”

Matt’s face showed surprise, not a good thing, but Hank’s quick reaction spared a clash. “Of course he is, Finch. Wouldn’t make sense to travel back and forth to Nunda while daylight hours are scarce, winter’s closing in and every penny he’s got is invested in Cobbled Creek.”

“You don’t have a C of O,” Finch barked, his typical attitude more evident this afternoon. “There’s reasons we’ve got regulations, Cavanaugh, although you were never real good at following rules, were you?”

Matt’s flinch surprised Callie, but then Hank sighed and frowned as if wondering what the clamor was about. “Finch, I don’t know any rule that says Matt can’t live with us while he gets the model done and inspected. It makes good sense, all in all.” Hank kept his voice easy and his surprise genuine, as if taken aback by Finch’s intrusion.

Callie swallowed a lump in her throat the size of a small two-by-four. Live with them? Was her father kidding?

“He’s staying at your place?” Finch swept Callie a look, then drew his gaze back to the two men.

Hank shrugged, sidestepping the truth. “We have extra room. Matt needs to be on site. It works out for everyone.”

Everyone but me, Callie wanted to shout. She was having a hard enough time keeping her distance from Matt in the short time they’d been working together, but to have him staying at their place?

“A perfect solution,” Matt added, as if everything was suddenly hunky-dory. “And just so you know, I’m ordering us a fresh turkey for Thanksgiving.”

Finch scowled.

Hank grinned.

Tom covered a laugh with a cough.

Callie decided more coffee would only tax her already-twining gut and headed back to the roof, trying to untwist the coiled emotions inside.

Yes, she was attracted.

No, she shouldn’t be.

And having him under their roof, sharing their home, their food?

Way too much proximity and she had too much to lose, but Hank had extended the invitation and Hank Marek carved his word in stone. He kept a General Patton quote framed on his dresser: “No good decision was ever made from a swivel chair.”

Great. Just great.

Finch would be annoyed, which meant he’d annoy others. She’d have Matt underfoot which would entail having her guard up 24/7. And the guys were clearly delighted with the prospect of having Matt around, his friendly grin and storytelling a welcome addition to their circle, a perfect match.

But she’d found out the hard way there were no perfect matches. Not for women who strike a different path, a career that includes tool belts weighted with claw hammers and tape measures. Nails and utility knives. Unfeminine suspenders to distribute the tool weight appropriately.

Some lessons a girl never forgot.

Matt’s footsteps followed her. He crouched by her side, pretending to work, his gaze down. “Hey, if it bothers you that much, I’ll just get a place in town. Or stay at my brother’s house in Wellsville. That way I’m not breaking the rules and McGee won’t have anything to complain about.”

Finch would dog Matt’s steps, Callie knew. He wasn’t above pestering contractors he didn’t like, and he’d had his eye on Callie for the last several months. She’d kept it cool and friendly at the diner, but Finch added another component in an already-complex puzzle. She didn’t want Matt targeted by the zealous building inspector, but she didn’t want him living with them either.

Nevertheless, the invitation had been extended, and Hank wasn’t a man to go back on his word, a quality she shared.

She bit her lip and swallowed a sigh. “It’s fine. It just came as a surprise.”

“I’ll do my own laundry.”

His earnest words almost made her smile. “You bet you will.”

“And I can cook.”

“Excellent.”

“How big a turkey shall I get?”

“You weren’t kidding about that?” She turned to face him and felt the draw of those deep, brown eyes, tiny hints of gold sparking warmth and laughter. “I got a couple of frozen turkeys at Tops while they were on sale. That’s a lot of good eating at a bargain price. Fresh birds are expensive.”

“Have you ever tasted one?”

She brushed that off and turned back to the task at hand. “Turkey’s turkey.”

He grinned and moved a step away. “It’s not, but I’ll let you discover that next week. And now—” he shifted his attention back to the nail gun “—we need to get back to work. Can you help your dad and Buck get started on number twenty-three?”

Across the street and two houses up. Just enough distance to calm things down. Smooth them over.

“Sure.”

“And Callie?”

She turned at the ladder and arched a brow, waiting for him to say more.

He eyed her a moment and shifted his jaw. “You do good work.”

His awkwardness told her he meant to add something else but thought better of it. Just as well. Too much fun and teasing could be misconstrued. She headed down to ground level, crossed the street, moved up the block and joined her father on the elongated roof covering the well-designed ranch house. Hank noted her presence with a welcome smile and nod.

“Ready?”

Ready for roofing?

Yes.

For having Matt’s teasing smile, his easy manner, his firm jaw around every day?

No way.

But Callie had withstood basic training and a deployment in Iraq. She could handle this.

She adopted a noncommittal look and started handing her father shingles, pushing thoughts of Matt aside, but with the steady pop of his nail gun keeping time with his whistling, she was mostly unsuccessful. Luckily no one knew that but her.

He’d be moving in tomorrow.

Ignoring Matt’s light proved impossible as Callie helped Jake recognize consonant–vowel patterns for his language arts class. Her chair faced the front window, overlooking Cobbled Creek and the unshaded reminder of Matt’s existence.

Change chairs, her conscience scolded.

She could, she supposed, warm yellow light pouring from the uncurtained windows of the model home. But…

“Mom, can I help Matt this weekend?” Jake asked, pulling her attention away from cute guys and broken dreams, definitely in everyone’s best interest.

“We’ll all be working this weekend, as long as the weather holds,” Hank told him. “Your mom has a couple of shifts at the diner—”

“I switched them up with Gina,” Callie cut in.

Hank eyed her, speculative.

“I make more crewing and we have no guarantee on the weather this late in the game,” she explained to Hank, then turned her attention back to Jake’s word list. “Yup, short I words here, long I there. Perfect.”

Jake beamed. “Mrs. Carmichael told me to picture them like puzzle pieces, looking for clues.”

God bless Mrs. Carmichael, Callie breathed silently. Between Hannah Moore’s tutoring and Jake’s teachers, he’d come a long way academically, and since his ADD prognosis, his continued progress thrilled Callie. She knew strong middle school academics required a solid foundation now, and she’d worked extra hours to pay for his tutoring, his book club, his interactive educational games, anything it took to surround him with learning opportunities.

So far, so good.

She smiled, ruffled his hair, tried not to glance out the window and failed, then said, “Yes, you can help, but The General can’t be over there all the time, okay? We can’t have someone’s attention diverted when they’re on a rooftop.”

“Okay.”

“And I want to get those Christmas lights strung this weekend. Thanksgiving’s next week and I’d rather do it before we get big snows than after.”

“That’s a good idea,” Hank agreed. “If we use both ladders we can do it together and get it done in half the time.”

“True.” The ladders were about the only thing not seized when Hank’s business bellied up. The bank had considered them household use instead of business inventory. “I want to finish scrubbing that side, too. Get rid of the mold.”

“Not much sense if we don’t have time or the right temperature to paint,” Hank told her.

“It looks better when it’s clean.” Callie didn’t elaborate, but something about coming home to that worn facade weighed on her. Painting could wait until spring, but decorating for the holidays with the front of the house looking tired and worn…

That didn’t sit right.

“When can we get our Christmas tree?” Jake’s eagerness refused to be contained.

Callie laughed and stood. She stretched and fought a yawn. “Let’s tackle Thanksgiving first, okay? And decorating the front of the house.”

“Can we put up Shadow Jesus?”

Hank exchanged a grin with Callie. He’d created a plywood Holy Family years ago, the images of Jesus, Mary and Joseph done in silhouette, then painted black. Two spotlights tucked into the grass bathed the cutouts in light at night, making their shadowed presence appear on the white house. The simple, stark visual was an eye-catcher for sure.

Jake had referred to the infant in the manger as “Shadow Jesus” from the time he could talk, a sweet memory and a good focus on the true meaning of the upcoming holy season. “Next weekend,” Hank promised. “It doesn’t take long, but let’s get the outside lights up first.”

Jake nodded, satisfied. “Okay. Good night, Grandpa.”

“Night, Jake.”

He was such a good boy, Callie thought as Jake headed upstairs to bed. She would never understand Dustin’s cool disregard for his beautiful son, but then she hadn’t understood Dustin for a very long time.

Maybe ever.

“He’s doing fine, Callie.” Hank drew her attention with a nod toward the stairs. “Don’t borrow trouble.”

“I know. It’s just rough at holiday time, when most kids get presents from their dads. Visits. Cards.”

“He’s happy enough.”

“But he wonders, Dad.” When Hank went to speak, she held up a hand to pause him. “I know he’s content, but it weighs on his mind from time to time. His birthday. Christmas. When they do father-son events at school and church. And those are the times when I could wring Dustin’s neck for brushing him off.”

“And brushing you off.”

She shrugged. “Not so much. We married young, we were both in the service, we thought we could conquer the world and when that didn’t work, we grew apart.”

Hank’s snort said more than words ever could. “In my day skirt-chasing was called just that, and it didn’t involve growing apart. It involved breaking vows, going back on your word. A good soldier never goes back on his or her word.”

His righteous indignation struck a chord with Callie. “You’re right, Dad, but it’s in the past and I’ve moved on. We all have.”

“And the future is ripe with possibilities,” Hank reminded her. “Seek and ye shall find. Knock and the door will be opened unto you.”

Callie leaned forward and planted a kiss on Hank’s bushy cheek. “Are you letting your beard grow to keep your face warm on those rooftops?”

“Yes I am.” Hank scrubbed a hand across the three-day stubble and grinned again. “One of the advantages of age and gender. I can grow my own ski mask.”

Callie shook her head, laughing. “And I’m just as thankful I can’t.” She headed for the stairs. “I’m turning in early so I can work on the front of the house before first light. I’ll turn on the small spotlights to help me see. Another few hours of washing should do it.”

“If we had a power washer…”

Hank’s quiet aside made her shrug. “We don’t want to disturb the paint too much anyway. It’s pretty loose in spots and a power washer might peel it off. Hand washing is fine for this year.”

Hank hugged her shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You make me proud. You know that, don’t you?”

She did. And she appreciated Hank’s commonsense take on Dustin’s behavior, but the image in the mirror once she climbed the stairs showed a strong, rugged woman, a laborer. And while her father’s approval was a lovely thing, and Callie took pride in her work, her dexterity, her intrinsic knowledge of building, some days it would be nice to look in the mirror and have downright beautiful looking back at her, the gracious swan that evolved from the misunderstood fictional duckling.

But that wasn’t about to happen.

Startled awake, Callie stared at the clock, rubbed her eyes and peered again.

She’d overslept the alarm. Not only would she not be scrubbing clapboard that morning, but she’d be lucky if she got lunches made before the bus pulled up for Jake. And what on earth was that noise?

Her father sent her an amused smirk as she ran down the stairs in her robe. “Tired?”

Grr.

Hank held up Jake’s lunch bag. “We’re good to go.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a half hug as she kissed his cheek on her way to the coffeepot. “I have no memory of turning the radio off or hitting the snooze bar. I must have zonked. And what is going on out there?” She jerked a thumb toward the subdivision.

Hank shook his head. “Not there.” He pointed toward the street side of the house. “Here.”

Here?

Callie followed the direction of his finger, pulled back the curtain and stared.

Matt Cavanaugh had brought over a small power washer. Using care, he splayed the jet of water against the siding in a slow and steady back-and-forth sweep, his attention locked on the task at hand.

“Pretty nice of him.” Hank’s words drew her gaze around.

“Very.”

“Must have seen you working out there.”

Callie was pretty sure the flush started somewhere around her toes and worked its way up. “Probably just wants to make sure we can use daylight hours on the subdivision.”

“Most likely.”

“Dad, I—”

She stopped as Jake clamored down the stairs, his expression a mix of surprise and delight. “Matt’s washing the front of the house!”

“He is, yes.”

“Then we can put up the Christmas lights this weekend!” He raced for the door and barreled across the porch, then down the steps and around the front. Callie watched from inside, pretty sure Matt couldn’t hear a word Jake was saying.

It didn’t matter. Matt’s grin said he understood a little boy’s excitement. He nodded and sent Jake a quick thumbs-up as he guided the spray around the windows. He spotted Callie watching and for a quick beat he forgot to move the water wand.

Oops. His look of chagrin said he’d peeled a bit of paint.

He swept her one more quick look, barely noticeable except for the wink. And the smile, just crooked enough to be endearing.

Callie rolled her eyes, shook a finger at him and tried not to smile. She couldn’t feed this flirtation and she had plenty on her plate dealing with Jake and Dad, but…

She let the curtain fall into place as Jake raced back in to grab a bagel and his lunch. “It looks great out there, Mom.” He switched his look to Hank and raised both brows. “So we can decorate this weekend? Right?”

“When we’re not working,” Hank promised.

“Perfect.” Jake gave Callie a quick hug and pointed toward the clock. “Matt says you’ve got fifteen minutes before you have to be at work and that you might want to get your coffee to go.”

“Oh, he did, did he?”

Jake grinned and headed outside. “He’s funny.”

Funny. Right. She shooed Jake on. “Have a good day.”

“I will.” She heard him hail Matt as he headed for the road, The General at his heels, his voice upbeat. “See you later, Matt!”

She refused to check out Matt’s reply, to see if he heard the boy’s call.

She never overslept. Ever.

Her father poured a fresh cup of coffee into a thermal cup and swept her and the clock a look. “Twelve minutes and counting.”

Laughter bubbled up from somewhere far away, a different kind of laughter. Sweet. Girlish. Kind of silly, actually.

But nice.

She hustled up the stairs, donned her layers and refused to think about the nice thing Matt was doing, saving her work, saving her time, precious commodities these days. And the joy in Jake’s step…

That thought nipped the gladness. She didn’t want Jake hurt. He’d taken a shine to Matt, but Matt was only temporary. If Jake grew too close…

Are you worried about Jake or you?

Both. Callie tugged her hoodie into place, grabbed a pair of fingerless gloves and headed back downstairs.

Matt’s grin was the first thing she saw as she rounded the bottom step, his shirt cuffs damp from the sprayer, his hands wound tight around a mug of coffee. He flicked a gaze toward the clock, then back to her. “Right on time.”

She faced him, tongue-tied. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t get beyond that smile to create a quick comeback. And he saw that. Recognized the reaction. Probably because girls fell at his feet on a regular basis. His grin widened, lighting his eyes.

Not me, not now.

Callie grabbed her insulated coffee mug, not ready to play this game. Maybe she’d never be ready, and that might be okay. She headed out the door with Matt following, but as she passed the front corner of the house, she couldn’t ignore what he’d done. She turned back and caught him studying her, his gaze curious. Maybe a little concerned. “Thank you.” She waved toward the front and a hint of his smile returned.

“You’re welcome.”

“It looks much better.”

He nodded, quiet, still watching her, one eye narrowed as if wondering something.

She pointed over his shoulder and slightly left. “Except where you peeled the paint above the window.”

His smile deepened. Softened. He shrugged. “Distracted.”

Talk about smooth.

Again the flush rose from somewhere deep and low, the pleasure of having a man flirt with her awakening sweet memories.

Memories that crashed and burned, honey. This guy’s way cute, but he’s here today, gone tomorrow. Let’s not forget that.

She headed across the road, chin down, knowing he followed a pace behind, not hurrying to catch up. Was he waiting for her to come back? Match her pace to his?

Or just enjoying a walk with his coffee?

“House looks good, Matt.” Buck smiled and nodded appreciation toward the Marek place as they drew alongside. “And that means we can rig up Shadow Jesus soon, I expect.”

“And the lights,” Hank added. “Jake sure is excited.”

“I got that.” Matt grinned, took a sip of coffee and settled an easy look Callie’s way. “He’s a good kid.”

“Thanks. Same assignments as yesterday, boss?”

A muscle clench in his chin said he recognized the marker drawn. “Sure.” He headed right while she moved to join her father and Buck on the roof they’d begun the previous day, but his light whistle followed her, the tune young. Bright. Carefree. It called to her, but she’d put carefree aside a lot of years ago and it would take more than clean clapboards and perfect teeth to bring it back. Most days she was pretty sure it was gone for good.

So much for maintaining a distance, Matt thought as Callie headed across his roof on steady feet a few hours later. “Tom said you needed a hand over here.”

Matt nodded, brisk, pretending immunity. “I do, thanks. The pharmacy called to say his wife’s prescription was ready.”

“And he didn’t want her waiting.” Callie adjusted her gloves, flexed her fingers and squatted beside him, close enough to notice how her lashes curled up on their own with no help from mascara. “That’s Tom, all right. And since Dad and Buck are capping twenty-three, I was the logical choice. Looks good, Jim,” she noted, raising her voice so Jim could hear. “And it’s almost straight.”

Jim made a face at her. “Ha, ha. Do I have to remind you that I’ve put on more roofs than anyone else in Allegheny County?”

Callie laughed. “Since there’s no one here to argue the point, I’ll let you stake your claim. In the meantime,” she turned her gaze toward Matt.

“Do you want to feed or nail?” he asked.

“I’ll nail. Then we can switch so neither one of us ends up with a backache later.”

“And you didn’t leave for the diner today. How about tomorrow?”

Callie shook her head, eyes down, working the nail gun as they edged right. “Nope.”

Matt fought off the quick glimmer of appreciation her answer inspired. Focus on your work. Remember that you’re on a rooftop and concentration might be in everyone’s best interest. But he’d be lying to say that Callie wasn’t a pretty nice distraction, totally against the norm of women he’d known.

“I switched with Gina,” she continued, working as she talked. “She’s a single mom, too, and she can use the extra shifts. She’ll do doubles, which will help her out at this time of year.”

“Christmas.”

“Christmas and winter clothes,” she told him as she shifted her angle to give him more room. “With kids you go right from back-to-school clothes to winter clothes and then Christmas. There’s no such thing as saving a dime in the fall. Not with children.”

Tom’s truck pulled back in a few minutes later. He climbed out, surveyed their progress and whistled, appreciative. “Nice work.”

Matt grinned, showed a thumbs-up and jerked his head toward Hank and Buck. “Can you finish up with Hank and Buck?”

“And let you have the pretty girl all to yourself?” Tom drawled. He tipped his wool hat toward Callie, ever the gentleman. “Good thing I’m a happily married man. I might be giving you a run for your money.”

Matt shook his head, pretending indifference, but when he glanced Callie’s way, twin spots of color brightened her cheeks.

The wind, he decided.

“Ready here.”

He started feeding her shingles again, her speed and concentration commendable when it was all he could do not to notice how she moved, the way she handled the nail gun as though born to it, her manner decisive, her gaze intent, her lower lip drawn between her teeth as she squared up each section.

She didn’t talk, she worked, and Matt appreciated that. Talking slowed things down, and they were already racing the clock. Callie understood the time line and stayed focused on the job at hand while Matt had a hard time focusing on anything but her.

A car pulled up. Amanda climbed out, toting a drink tray of fresh coffees from the convenience store at the crossroads.

“She’s a lifesaver,” Callie muttered from behind Matt.

Matt met her gaze and smiled. “I’ll say. Now if she only thought to bring doughnuts…”

Amanda set the tray of large coffees down on the saw table tucked inside the garage of number seventeen, then headed back to the car and pulled out a big box of doughnuts.