RIVAL: An Enemies to Lovers Why Choose Country Romance

Chapter 7

Inever thought working extra hours, completely unpaid after a long day, would have me smiling as much as I am. Edith’s presence has been a complete joy all afternoon and I’m very much looking forward to beginning again tomorrow.

After the storm swept through last night, I thought for sure we’d be delayed with starting the church project, but after checking in with their office, I was assured everything was still a go. I checked on my paying jobs before I arrived at the site and found myself disappointed I didn’t see those round, warm brown eyes peering back at me from the group on the first shift.

When she finally did arrive, I wanted to kick myself in the ass for grinning like a fool as I approached her. She hasn’t been far from my mind since we met, and I’m more than a little curious about her. I thought I pretty much knew most people in town, so I’m well and truly shocked we’ve never run into each other by now.

Leaning over the two by four, Edith uses a pencil to mark the cut lines on the wood before her arms struggle to lift it from her station to lean against the first wall we’ve framed out. She inspects her work critically as she asks, “If you had to pick between a dog or cat for a pet, what would you choose?”

With a chuckle, I line up my saw and drop my safety glasses over my eyes as I consider her question. After cutting the piece, I flick my eyes over to her. She’s frozen, curled over the next piece to be marked, waiting for my answer. We’ve been playing this back-and-forth question game for the past hour, and so far, I’ve learned that she by far prefers orange juice over coffee, she’d rather be barefoot than wear sandals, would want a mountain cabin rather than a beach house, and likes pie instead of cake.

“That one’s a no brainer. Dog, for sure.”

The way her nose wrinkles is adorable. “Really? They’re so… loud. And messy. Although, if I had to pick a puppy over a kitten, I’d probably pick a puppy. They’ll love you unconditionally, no matter what. But as adults? You have to go with a cat!”

“I’m going to stand by my statement. Dogs are playful, loyal, and can do tricks if you train them right. If you tried to do that with a cat, they’d just put their nose up and leave you behind to save their sorry asses. Why in the world would you think a cat is better?”

I was just teasing, but the way her face falls in consternation at my passionate answer sends a sliver of guilt through my chest. Then she grows thoughtful and whatever bothered her is pushed away and she gives me a well thought out answer.

“Well, for a lot of reasons, actually. First, they’re smaller, so not such a burden in the home. I already mentioned the noise levels. They’re by far cleaner and use a litter box, so you don’t have to worry about rusty doors opening and shutting throughout all hours of the night to take them to the yard.”

Edith resumes her work on marking cut lines as she continues, and I find myself a bit uneasy with the direction she goes in with her reasoning, but I’m not sure what it is that bothers me.

“The lifespan of a cat is almost double that of a dog, so you’ll have them at your side significantly longer. Feeding them won’t break the bank, making them much more affordable. Oh! They can hide anywhere. If they’re frightened or need to escape a threat, they can just slip under a bed or even through a crack in the wall to get free.”

“Edith…” I call to her and trail off when she doesn’t hear me, lost in her own thoughts.

“They purr. It’s like they’re telling you they love you and only you, because it’s so quiet, no one else could hear. It’s like a secret you have between just the two of you.”

She frowns, then finally looks over at me, seeing my own frown. Her teeth dig into her pouty lower lip as she blushes in embarrassment from her rambling. Not wanting her to stop talking, I force a smile. “Edith, you may have sold me on cats. I’ve been converted.”

Her shoulders relax, and she seems relieved I didn’t say anything about her speech. “They really are pretty fantastic.”

“Apparently. Okay,” I say, focusing back on work. “It’s my turn. How old are you?”

Pointing at me, she teases, “That’s not a this or that question.”

“It’s not.” I nod solemnly. “But I’ve asked it, nonetheless.”

Her hum of defiance is adorable, and she makes me wait a moment before answering. “I’m twenty. Although, I have a birthday coming soon. What about you?”

“You two look like you could use somethin’ to drink.” Ruth Danielson interrupts our game, which I couldn’t be more thankful for. I won’t lie; Edith’s answer shocked me. I knew she was probably much younger, but fuck, she’s not even drinking age yet.

As she sets down her pencil to accept the small plastic cup filled with lemonade, I fight off my disturbing feelings of flirting with someone almost half my age.

I’ve just turned thirty-seven, for Christ’s sake. What the hell am I doing contemplating getting to know a girl barely out of high school, let alone flirting with her?

Ruth walks stiffly to me, holding out another cup, eyeing me curiously. “How do you think everything is going so far?”

Clearing the lump in my throat, I avoid looking over at Edith. “Everything seems to be going well. The volunteers are great, and we haven’t had any hiccups yet.”

Ruth hums, then glances over her shoulder where Edith is bent over the boards to continue marking them. Dropping her voice, she leans in so she’s not overheard. “I wasn’t tryin’ to overhear, but I think you ought to know, age is just a number darlin’. It’s what’s here that counts.” She finishes her statement by tapping her fingers to her chest, just over her heart.

It’s a common saying, but my moral compass eating away at me is saying age is important when it comes to someone who’s barely had a chance to be an adult. I’m disappointed as well, more than I would have expected. There’s nothing that says we can’t be friends, though.

“In some instances, I’d agree,” I tell her, then finish off the lemonade before crushing the cup under my hand. “We’re about done here for the day. I’ll make rounds and start sending everyone home for the evening.”

Nodding sharply, maybe with a bit of her own disappointment, Ruth turns away. Loudly, she calls out, “Today was a good day. Thank you for all you’ve done, and I hope you sleep well tonight. As always, take God’s blessings with you.” Then she makes her way back over to Edith. “You seem exhausted, my dear.”

I don’t stick around to listen to the rest of their conversation. Quickly, I unplug the table saw, then start dismissing the workers, thanking them for their help and listening as they chat about their plans for their evenings. Everyone sticks around long enough to clean up their stations, and by the time the last person is leaving, I blow out an exhausted breath. It’s been a long day, but also very rewarding.

A part of me hopes Edith is still here, so I find myself heading back to where the two of us were working. I only find Ruth sitting on a bucket next to Edith’s table, who is nowhere in sight.

“She’s left.”

Picking up my things, I shove my gloves and personal tools into my bag and ask, “Who?”

Ruth snorts. “You know exactly who I’m speaking of. I may be old, but I’m not senile. Edith is walking home.”

That brings me up short and I stare at her. “She’s walking home? Does she live close by? It’s getting late.”

Shrugging, she holds her hand out for me to help her up. “Not so far. Walk me to my car, would you?”

I look toward the road, wanting to find her and offer a ride, but remind myself that Edith is perfectly capable of getting herself home. “Of course. Is Mr. Danielson going to join us tomorrow?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be here. He had a meeting this morning, but normally he likes to begin a day like this with prayers and motivating words for everyone who shows up.” The two of us walk slowly toward her car, Ruth hanging heavily on my arm. I’ve seen her get around, and I’m convinced she’s giving me more of her weight than necessary. I bite my cheek to not laugh at her antics. “If you don’t mind me saying, I think you’ll see that Edith is a hard worker and someone you may find enjoyable to spend time getting to know.”

“I’m sure she’s a lovely girl.” What else can I say? Edith does seem like a nice girl, but that doesn’t change the fact I’m twice her age.

As she opens her door, she gives me a knowing look. “She is a lovely woman, but there’s so much more to her. She struggles with her faith but continues to show up every Sunday. Never saying no to those who ask things of her. There’s more to her than her kindness, and I think you might find yourself smitten if you search for those little secrets she holds close. Her life hasn’t been easy, but her outlook on life is bright. I won’t push. I just thought you should know.”

Unsure of what to say, I simply smile with understanding and shut the door once she’s settled. Waving her off, I hurry to my truck and throw my bag inside. Without thought, I head down the road and keep an eye out for Edith’s figure walking alongside the road. If I see her, I’ll pull to the side and offer her a ride, but the longer I drive, I realize she must not be walking in this direction.

I debate for only a moment before whipping my truck around to drive in the opposite direction. It’s only a few minutes and half a mile in the other direction before her silhouette pops up in the distance. As I get closer, I notice another vehicle pulling up just in front of her and a head pop out as soon as it’s parked. Pressing on my brake, I watch as Edith hurries to the truck and hops into the passenger seat, then they peel out and speed away from my now stopped truck.

At least I know she’s not stuck walking the rest of her way home, but I’m annoyed I drove this way only to watch her speed away. I suppose I could have offered her a ride earlier, but maybe this is for the best.

As intriguing as I find Edith, I really do need to keep myself in check and pull myself back from my interest. I’ve dated a few women in my time and the one thing I’ve learned is they can get attached quickly. It’s not always a bad thing, but it makes matters more difficult if feelings aren’t reciprocated.

I’d never want to lead her on until I knew I could deal with the age difference. I barely know the woman. There is a lightness to her. A free spirit that reminds me a bit of my younger sister, but Edith has an underlining sadness, which makes me want to know more before I consider my options.

Maybe we’ll play our question game tomorrow, and I can find out more. Until then, I’m going to pocket the idea of pursuing her and work toward building a friendship. She’ll probably agree because the first thing I’m going to make sure she knows is how much older I am.

After getting home and making myself something quick to eat, I fall into bed, ready to sleep today’s exhaustion away. Instead, it takes me hours before I fall asleep, thinking of a dark-haired woman with sad eyes and a friendly smile. Eventually, sleep finds me when I tell myself it won’t hurt to get a little closer tomorrow.