Cindy Gerard - The Way Home

“Don’t worry, boss. Your secret’s safe with me.”

About that time, her “secret” opened the door that led to the stairs to her apartment and walked into the store, looking absolutely edible in faded jeans and a white T-shirt.

He glanced from Kayla with her Cheshire Cat grin to Jess and lifted his brows. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Kayla was about to straighten up the shelves holding the sweatshirts and T-shirts. We had a crowd in here yesterday, and I swear they dragged every single shirt out of its cubby and stuffed it back in a wad.”

“Guess I’ll be folding shirts if anyone needs me.” Kayla gave Ty a thumbs-up and headed for the shelves.

“What’s that about?” Ty met Jess on the other side of the counter.

“She thinks we’re cute.”

“I think you’re cute.” He leaned in close. “And very, very hot.”

She hated that heat flushed her cheeks. The fact that it made him laugh didn’t take much of the sting out of her involuntary physical reaction.

“Why don’t you put me to work today?” he said, still grinning.

“What? No. I don’t want to do that.”

“I want you to. If you don’t have anything for me to do in the store, give me something to do outside. I’m not a thumb twiddler.”

“I seem to recall you bought a fishing pole and some tackle last time you were here. You should go fishing. Or hike one of the trails. Or explore the shoreline. Shelley and Darrin would loan you a kayak. Just don’t go too far out in open water, or you might get lost.”

“You sure you’re not trying to get rid of me?”

“After that breakfast? Are you kidding?” He’d fried bacon, made French toast, and squeezed oranges for juice.

“Ah, so it’s my cooking skills that won you over?”

She glanced over to the shirt section to make sure Kayla was out of earshot. “Among other things.”

Her cheeks were still stained bright red when the bell above the door rang and the first customer of the day walked inside.

“I APPROVE OF YOUR NEW HANDYMAN.”

It was almost noon when Jess closed the lid on the ice cream cooler to see Boots walk in.

She looked up at him. “Handyman?”

“Good-lookin’ fella. Struck me as a nice guy. Knows what he’s doing, too. Had a little talk with him outside while he worked on your shed roof.”

She scowled, wiped her hands on a paper towel, and headed outside. “Kayla. Ring up these cones, will you? I’ll be right back.”

Ty had made himself scarce, and it had been a busy morning, so Jess hadn’t had time to give him more than a passing thought. OK, a lot of passing thoughts, most of them having to do with the way they’d spent last night in her bed and how eager she was for tonight to get here so they could start all over again.

In the meantime, she’d hoped he’d gone fishing or kayaking as she’d suggested, but as Boots promised, she found Ty on his knees on the slanted roof of her storage shed, a hammer in one hand, a nail apron tied around his waist, and a square of shingles on the roof beside him. He’d already torn off all the old shingles, laid tar paper, and nailed the new shingles over three-fourths of the roof.

She shielded her eyes against the sun and glared up at him. “What are you doing?”

“A damn fine job, according to your watchdog.” He slammed the hammer down, then dug into the apron. “Boots, right? Now, there’s a character.”

“Get down from there right now.”

“Save that tone for tonight. I love it when you go all boss lady on me.”

“Ty!”

He hammered another nail. “I’m almost done.”

“You are done. I’m serious. I don’t want you working like that.”

He finally looked down at her, then glanced around the parking lot to make certain no one was within earshot. “Afraid I’ll be worn out tonight?”

That grin, she’d learned, could be as infuriating as it was infectious. And the way he looked… his hair and shirt damp with sweat, the veins in his forearms bulging with pumping blood, his worn jeans hugging his hips and thighs and showing a hint of pale, smooth skin where his T-shirt had ridden up… well, as upset as she was, if she managed to haul him down off that roof, she might not stop hauling until she’d led him up the stairs, straight to the shower, and joined him there.

“I don’t want you working,” she insisted, dragging her gaze back to his face. “Period. I especially don’t want you shingling my roof.”

“You’re saying it didn’t need it? Look… I was digging around for a hammer to fix the back door, and I found the shingles inside the shed. Figured you planned on hiring someone to do the job.”

“What I planned was to do it myself when business slows down in the fall.”

“Then that’s all the better reason for me to do it. Gives me a chance to feel all studly on your behalf.”

She grunted. “Spoken like a manly man.”

He laughed. “Consider it payment for room and board.”

As if she was going to charge him. “You’re going to hurt your back.”

“You let me worry about my back. I’ll have this finished by mid-afternoon. Easy peasy. Tomorrow I’ll put that roll of window screen to use.”

She wanted to be mad. But how could she? He’d saved her a ton of work and had probably done a better job than she would have. As for the window screen, she’d bought it two years ago with the intent of replacing the ratty screens on both the store and her apartment windows. Various other projects had always taken priority.

Then again, everything about the store was a project. The building was more than eighty years old. It required constant maintenance, most of which she tried to do herself to save money. Besides, doing things herself was important to her. She didn’t want to be dependent. She particularly didn’t want to depend on Ty, who was not about to become a permanent fixture in her life. And she didn’t him want him to be.

She didn’t want to find it endearing, either, that he liked her dog, was fascinated by the lake, and made her breakfast. And she didn’t want to get used to him “fixing” things for her. Before she knew it, she’d become reliant on him. She’d already, in this very short time, come to count on him to make her smile, to make her feel pretty, to remind her what it was like to be a woman who was attracted to a man—a man who made it clear, without pushing, that he was very attracted to her.

But none of this was about the long term, and if she wasn’t careful, she could end up wishing that it was.

“Did you know that those gorgeous brown eyes of yours actually snap when you’re mad? Hey,” he added softly when she didn’t smile. “Don’t look so mean. I told you. I’m not good at twiddling my thumbs. I like to work. And as Boots and you can both attest, I’m pretty good with my hands.”

That teasing grin again. And oh, she knew exactly how good he was with those hands.

“Jess?”

“What?” She crossed her arms belligerently around her midriff and scowled up at him.

“As long as you’re out here, I could use another bottle of water. It’s warm up here.”

“Ya think?” Anger seemed her only option. “It’s August. It’s noon. It’s at least ninety degrees outside.”

Her mini-tirade didn’t daunt him. “You forget. I live in Florida. This is jogging weather.”

“You’re going to learn not to tease me, flyboy.” She spun around and headed back to the store for his water. “There will be retaliation.”

“If I said, ‘Oh, goody,’ would I lose my stud card?”

She didn’t turn around, but she knew he was having a good chuckle at her expense as she jerked open the store’s back door. In spite of her determination not to be charmed by everything about him—even his teasing—she smiled as she reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water.