“Hey, Major. It’s Forbes.”

His best friend’s voice came as a welcomed relief. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Wondered if you might have time to get together one day this week.”

His mind still occupied with his mother and her issues, Major couldn’t think clearly. “I think I should be able to get free one day, now that Steven’s handling lunch service. But I’ll have to check my calendar once I get back to the office tomorrow to let you know for sure.”

“Okay. Good. I’ve been reviewing the paperwork you gave me on your restaurant idea, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

No more bad news. Not today. Major slumped forward until his forehead pressed against the top of the steering wheel. “My restaurant proposal?”

“Yeah. I don’t really want to get into it over the phone. Let’s just try to get together as soon as possible next week.”

“Sure. I’ll shoot you an e-mail tomorrow to let you know when.”

“You all right?”

“Just exhausted. You know, the event last night...” He wasn’t really lying to his friend—just not divulging the truth.

“Why don’t you come over and watch football with us this afternoon—Dad and the boys and me—over at Mom and Dad’s house?”

“Thanks for the invite, but ... I’ll be at the open house for a few minutes; then I’m going to head home for some peace and quiet.”

“I gotcha. I’ll talk to you later.”

After they disconnected, Major tossed the phone into the passenger seat. “Lord, why did I get out of the bed today?”

Chapter 4

You’d better not mess up my car, buddy-boy.

The puppy thumped its tail a couple of times against the floor then put its head back on its paws. The veterinarian at the quick clinic had said the little guy would be out of it from some of the shots.

Meredith pulled her jacket over her almost-dry hair and dashed across the small lot to the store’s front door.

“We close for lunch in thirty—oh, hey, Glamour Girl.” The proprietor rounded the sales counter and shook Meredith’s hand. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit today?”

One of the things she loved about Robichaud’s Hardware was the fact that no one cared if she arrived in paint-splattered clothes, wearing no makeup, and looking no better than that puppy had when she’d pulled him out from under the porch.

“Since you’re having your big New Year’s Day sale, I figured I’d come in and clean you out of the rest of that paint stripper. And I need some wood epoxy, as well. Same aisle?”

“You know where stuff is in here better than I do, gal.” He handed her a shopping basket. “If you think of anything else you need, or if I don’t have exactly what you’re looking for back there, give me a holler.”

“Thanks, Rob. Will do.” Meredith dropped her wallet and keys into the basket and headed for the painting supplies section in the back of the store. Her work boots thudded slightly on the wide-plank pine floor.

She breathed deeply and let it out as a sigh. The smell of wood and metal and turpentine and hard work welcomed and embraced her. She was certain she could get what she needed at the warehouse-like home improvement center a few miles closer to the house, but she preferred the sounds, scents, and service she experienced here.

She grabbed the last two one-gallon cans of the gel-style solvent she liked best for removing old paint and moved down the aisle to the display of all the caulks, glues, and epoxies. The few products that she needed to look at were, naturally, on the bottom shelf. She set the heavy basket on the floor and crouched down to read the labels.

In the stillness, the front-door bell chimed faintly, followed by Rob’s echoing voice calling out that the store would be closing for lunch in twenty minutes. Meredith turned her attention back to the product labels, not wanting to leave her leather seats at the mercy of the puppy any longer than necessary.

The light above her dimmed. She glanced up—and nearly lost her balance.

“Do you need help finding something, miss?” The man who asked towered over her.

She jumped to her feet, balancing the can, bottle, and tube of epoxy in her hands. “No, thank you. I’m just reading to try to see which one I want to buy.” The can shifted and her fingers spasmed and cramped trying to keep hold of it—to no avail.

Before it could fall, the giant with curly dark hair caught it. “Whoops. Don’t want that falling and popping open. We might be stuck here forever.” He had a jaw like a sledge hammer and a grin like a teen idol.

She shook her head. So he was good-looking—so what? “Thanks.”

“You’re buying wood epoxy?” His gray eyes twinkled.

“Yes.” She shifted the tube and bottle into her left hand and reached for the can.

He didn’t immediately let go, a crease forming between his thick brows. “Are you sure this is what you’re looking for?”

Annoyance prickled up Meredith’s spine. “Unless you know of something else I can use to fill in years’ worth of wear and tear in my woodwork.”

“If it’s molding or baseboards, you’d be better off just replacing the piece of trim completely.”

She pulled a little harder and finally succeeded in getting him to let go of the can. “If they weren’t period and prohibitively expensive to replace, I might consider it. But I can’t replace all of the moldings, baseboards, and cabinets in a craftsman house.”

His brows elevated in tandem with his low whistle. “A craftsman—not the cedar-sided one over on Destrehan Place?”

She stepped back, hugging the epoxies to her. “Yes.”

“Whaddya know? A buddy of mine owned it—bought it to flip right before the market crashed. I helped him as much as I could with the exterior. We’d just started on the interior when he ran out of money.”

“As in, y’all ripped the kitchen out completely without any means of putting another one in?” The corners of Meredith’s mouth twitched.

The six-and-a-half-foot-tall giant rubbed his hand over his short curls. “Yeah,” he drawled. “I told him not to do that until he knew for sure he could get another line of credit. You—” He regarded her curiously. “You aren’t actually living in that house with no kitchen, are you?”

Meredith smiled at him for the first time since the conversation began. “No. I’m not currently living in the house. But at the rate I’m making progress, it’s not going to be in much better shape when I do need to move in a few months from now.”

“Lease on your current place ending?” He motioned for the bottle and tube she held, took them at her nod, and set them back on the shelf.

“Sort of.” More like Anne and George would be returning from their honeymoon to England and wanting to get started on restoring the Victorian.

“So are you thinking about hiring a contractor?” He rested his elbow against the second shelf as if settling in for a long chat.

Who was this guy? “Yeah, I’m thinking about it. Why—do you know one?”

His full lips split into a smile, revealing too-white-to-be-natural teeth. He reached into the pocket of his denim shirt and produced a business card.

Meredith read it—then did a double take.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t read your card right the first time.” She looked up at him. At his quizzical look, she decided to confess. “I’ve just never actually met anyone named Ward before.”

“I know—it’s odd, isn’t it? But Edward’s a family name, and my parents didn’t want me being ‘Eddie the fourth.’ I’ve never seen it anywhere else as a first name.”

“You’ve never heard of Ward Bond?” She slipped the card into her pocket.

Ward Breaux shook his head. “No. Who’s he?”

Meredith’s jaw unhinged momentarily. “The Searchers? Rio Bravo? The Quiet Man?” At the title of each film, the contractor shook his head. “Surely, you’ve at least seen Fort Apache?”

“Um ... if those are westerns, I can guarantee you I’ve never seen them.”

“They’re not just westerns, they’re John Wayne classics—Ward Bond costarred in all of those and a bunch more with John Wayne.”

“Well, there you go.” Ward winked at her. “I’ve never seen a John Wayne movie.”

“Never? Oh, you don’t know what you’re missing. Fort Apache and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon are my two favorite movies.”

Ward’s eyes crinkled a bit at the corners when he smiled. “Then I guess I’ll have to watch them sometime if they’re your favorites.”

Movement behind him caught Meredith’s attention, and she bent to grab her basket. “Sorry, Rob. I’m ready—” She glanced askance at Ward and held up the can in her hand. “At least, I think I am.”

“That’s the putty I always use.” Ward turned toward Rob. “I’ll be done by the time you finish ringing up Miss...?” He swung his head around, brows raised.

Her skin tingled at the way his dark lashes perfectly framed his gray eyes. “Meredith Guidry.”

“Miss Guidry.”

Meredith tried her best not to look back as she followed Rob to the sales counter. She nearly bounced on each step, buoyed by high spirits. Never before had a man flirted with her like that.

After handing her check card to Rob, she pulled a business card out of her wallet. She stared at it a moment. MEREDITH E. GUIDRY, EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR, EVENTS & FACILITIES MANAGEMENT. Her title always made her feel pretentious, though she supposed it did reflect her real job better than “the event planner,” which is what most people called her. She signed her receipt and willed Rob to move slower in bagging her purchases.

Her heart jangled like a cartoon telephone when footsteps approached from behind. She drew in a calming breath. Strange. In the eight years since she’d first met Major, she’d never experienced this level of attraction toward anyone else. Maybe she was finally getting over him.