Chapter Twelve #2
Pulling herself back, she looked at the man—white chef’s coat over broad shoulders, brown hair bundled up under a low-crowned chef’s hat. He had blazing blue eyes in a rawboned, cream-colored face.
His big, wide-palmed hand reached out to take hers.
“You’re Nick.”
“Hello, neighbor.”
“I was thinking you should’ve named this place Heaven, because if heaven doesn’t smell like this, I don’t want to go.”
He grinned. “Sometimes it’s my heaven, sometimes it’s my hell. Either way, I’m glad you came in. Jamie’s decided you’re the goddess of neighbors.”
“He’s wonderful.”
“I think so. Italian bread and cannoli. Italian night?”
“I’ve got spaghetti and meatballs simmering.”
“Sounds good. Robin will take care of you, and I’ll see you a week from Sunday.”
“Looking forward.”
When she turned to take her slice of heaven home, she nearly bumped into Gideon.
“Hi. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
Robin the cupcake blonde’s smile increased in magnitude. “Hi, Gideon. Your coffee order’s coming right up.”
“Thanks.”
He was right here, Arden thought, and she really didn’t want to take Tessa’s advice and use Joe to pressure him.
While she couldn’t match Robin, Arden bumped up her smile.
“Have you got a minute?”
“I’m waiting for coffee, so…”
“Right. When Tessa and I were talking paint colors for my library, she—”
He held up a finger, then reached for his wallet.
“One large black coffee, one large coffee with caramel cream.”
Robin all but sang it.
“I’ll just walk out with you.”
Arden waited while he paid, picked up the take-out bag.
“Enjoy,” Robin told him.
“Always do.”
“I take it they make good coffee,” Arden said as they walked out.
“Best in town.”
“Not surprising. I met Jamie the other day—Nick the baker’s husband. Turns out they’re my neighbors.”
“You should be able to score some free samples.”
“Already have. I don’t want to keep you,” she added as they stood on the sidewalk. “But Tessa mentioned you when I told her about the built-ins I wanted.”
He had a way, she realized, of looking at you so those green eyes seemed to drill right through your forehead and into your brain.
“That’s not something I do.”
“Does that mean it’s something you can’t or won’t do, or something you don’t usually do? Let me preface this by saying I’m not looking for fancy, you know, carving and curlicues or complicated. Simple, straightforward bookcases leaning toward rustic. Leaning, not obsessively rustic.”
“What would be obsessively rustic?”
“Well, you know, rough wood, which you’d never be able to clean without risking blood. Cows or horses in the corners. Just good, dark wood—and I don’t know what that would be. And I’m not in a rush. I can wait.”
“Six months?”
She didn’t bat an eye. “Sure. I plan to live there forever, so six months is small change. I want good, solid, lasting, not quick. If it’s something you can’t or won’t, or just don’t want to, maybe you can recommend someone. It’s just…”
He waited, and the way he waited made Arden think he must’ve been a smart cop.
“I know your work, at least in bowls and lamps, and I feel like I know you and Joe. I’d rather, when possible, have someone I know working in my house.”
He waited a long beat.
“I’ll take a look.”
“Really? Thanks. Now?”
“No, not now. I can come by later. Four, no, more around four-thirty.”
“Great. Thanks. Even if you decide against, I appreciate you taking a look. Do you remember where—Of course you remember. See you later.”
He intimidated, Arden thought as she walked back to her car. Whether he tried to or not, he just did. That steady gaze, the ridiculously good looks, and that don’t-speak-unless-you-have-something-to-say manner.
Despite that, she already knew she wouldn’t be nervous with him in the house. And that mattered.
She gave Zorro a treat for the ride so the scent of bread and pastries didn’t tempt him to be a bad boy. And realized she might have liked a coffee with caramel cream.
She’d have to try it at home.
And at home, she checked her sauce—doing well. She tried her hand at some flower arranging with choices from her garden.
Not half bad.
She decided to pretty herself up a bit for her first dinner guests. She chose new pants—not jeans, sweats, but actual pants she’d bought on her excursion with Zoey—and paired them with a top—not a tee or sweatshirt—Zoey had already matched with it.
Coincidentally, a kind of vanilla caramel color for the pants, and Zoey—never wrong about such things—hit it with the more structured shirt that headed toward copper.
She even put on a belt, and the brown leather sneakers her cousin had nagged her into buying.
“You’ve gotten this far, do the rest.”
Earrings—why not her good gold hoops, the twisty ones? She bumped up her running-into-town makeup, then took her hair out of its braid so it waved around her shoulders.
She studied herself, nodded, and decided, like her flower arrangement, not half bad.
Downstairs, she set the dining room table, got out the high chair she’d bought so Zoey and Boone wouldn’t have to haul one over whenever they visited.
As if he knew something was up, Zorro paced back and forth with her as she worked rather than settling down with a stuffed or chew toy.
“Yes, we’re having company. Which is why I’m opening this lovely bottle of wine to breathe. I’m rewarding myself with a glass after I make the salad.”
As she tossed it, Zorro set off the somebody’s-here alarm.
“It can’t be them. It’s only quarter to five. Shit! The God of Hot and Sexy.”
She covered the salad, stuck it in the fridge.
He should’ve just said no. He knew better. But he hadn’t built bookcases since he’d made them for his house in LA, and left them behind, as he hadn’t wanted to drag anything with him.
He’d sold his house furnished, packed up what clothes he wanted, donated the rest. He’d loaded up his new truck and headed north.
And that had been that.
Now he actually toyed with the idea of building bookcases again. For someone else.
He could’ve given Arden a recommendation for someone good and trustworthy, and should have. But there’d been something about her appeal that hit a soft spot.
So here he was, walking to her door when he could’ve been home or headed there.
He heard the dog barking as he approached the door. She opened it before he got there.
She looked … different with her hair loose. A lot of hair spilling all over. He knew enough about women to know she’d played around with her eyes, deepened the color of her lips.
He hoped she hadn’t done it for him. Maybe she wasn’t his type, but the woman had a look, and it struck a chord.
“Thanks for coming,” she said as the dog wagged up to him, around him, leaned on him, sang to him. “I honestly didn’t intend to start on the library for weeks, then I tried the paint in there. And, well.”
“I’ll take a look.”
She smelled different, too. something fresh and subtly alluring. As he stepped in, another scent curled around his senses.
Cooking.
As she started back, he saw the pot on the stovetop, wine on the island.
Probably had a date for dinner, he decided. She’d been here weeks now, so she probably had a date.
“As I told Tessa, I welcome opinions on the paint.” She gestured to the brushstrokes on the wall. “Because I can always ignore them.”
“Works.”
“I think so, too. So I want cabinetry that plays well with that. I thought the little fireplace on that wall, but—”
“Between the windows. You can ignore the opinion, but you’d be wrong.”
“I’m not wrong because I also decided that. You’d arrange the chairs so you’d see the fire, and the outdoors. I actually sketched it out. I can’t draw, but…”
She took a sheet of paper off a box, handed it to him.
He studied it. “No, you can’t draw.”
“True, but still, ouch.”
“I get the drift. Floor to ceiling along the three walls, and under the window casing there and there.”
He looked over, sized her up. “You’re tall enough you could reach the top shelves.”
“I am, but I’m thinking I might get a library ladder, because cool.”
“A lot of bookshelves.”
She spread her hands and pointed to the boxes. “I have a lot of books.”
“I can see that.”
“And I’m not done there yet. I’ll mix in some family photos and things, but mostly books.”
“Adjustable shelves?”
“Yes, please. Oh, and I want to outline the cabinets—well, outline the inside of the cabinets—with those lights. The tape lights? My uncle can do that at some point. Or my cousin Zoey. They’re really handy. I’m not.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Plywood or solid?”
“Solid, absolutely.”
He gave her a look. “What’s your budget?”
“I haven’t decided.”
He sighed. “You need a budget. How would you know if I gouge you?”
“Joe would scold you.”
He shook his head, but his lips curved.
“Not cherry because I’m damned if I’m putting a dark stain on cherry. Maple’s a choice. Oak’s better. Oak with a dark but transparent stain.”
“Transparent because?”
“The grain comes through. Leans rustic, plus more character.”
“I’m after all that.”
“The books are the showpiece, the cases the frame. But the frame matters.”
“It does. What’s my budget?”
If you looked close enough, you could see tiny amber flecks in her eyes, he noted. They shimmered some when she smiled.
“I need to measure.”
“Oh, I did that. They’re right on the drawing.”
He just looked at her.
“And you want to measure yourself because how would you know if I measure correctly? I’ll get out of your way while you do that. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done, or if you need anything. Do you want coffee?”
“No, I’m good.”
When she left, he stood a moment. It would be a really nice room, character, atmosphere. As long as she didn’t frill it up. He hadn’t seen any indication she went for the frills.
He got out his measuring tape.
It took him nearly a half hour, and when he walked into the kitchen, she stood stirring something in the pot that made his stomach yearn while she held a glass of wine in her other hand.
She glanced over, jolted, and actually lost some color.
“Sorry.”
“You’re quiet.” She cleared her throat. “You just startled me. Spaghetti and meatballs.” The words tumbled out of her. “I’m having some of my family over for dinner.”
The high chair in the dining room told him one of the guests wouldn’t drink a glass of Chianti.
She drank some now, breathed out.
“Would you like a glass?”
“I’m driving.”
“Right.”
“Half a glass.” He had a fondness for that label. And, he couldn’t help it, he wanted to give her a minute to settle down.
When she got the glass, her hand shook, just a little, so he picked up the bottle and poured the half glass himself.
“I’ve got a rough estimate. Rough,” he repeated. “For the oak. I’ll work up a firm one, but this’ll give you the range.”
When he gave her a cost, her bottom lip poked out. Not a pout, he knew. She’d done the same when looking at paint samples.
Thinking. Considering.
“That’s fair. I’m not as naive about this as you think. My uncle did two really lovely built-ins for their family room a few years ago, so I know what the materials cost. Add labor and the order of magnitude, that seems fair.”
She’d settled, even relaxed again. He could see it in her smile.
“And obviously, I believe in paying the artist.”
“Craftsman.”
“It really is the same thing. I’ve never understood why they make it two divisions. But I—”
She broke off when the dog barked and raced.
“Hold that thought.”
Before he could just say they’d talk details later, she was off and running.
Like a damn gazelle.
Chaos poured in. It came in the form of a man with a kid on his hip, and a woman with a toddler on hers. The kids squealed, bounced. The older one pushed and wiggled her way down to fall on the dog like a brave soldier on a grenade.
It seemed apt, as everyone hugged as if they’d been to war.
“Everything looks great,” the man said. “And wow, something smells amazing.”
Arden grabbed the toddler, who planted a sloppy kiss on her aunt’s—he guessed—laughing mouth.
“It’s her newest thing,” the woman said. “I hope you’re inoculated. Day care’s a miasma of germs. We need to give Boone the tour, plus I want to see…”
She trailed off as she spotted Gideon. And smiled. “Well, hello there.”
“Come on back, come on back.” Arden and the toddler led the way. “This is Gideon, who in a few months will see I have the library of my dreams. Gideon, this is my cousin Zoey, her husband, Boone, and their undeniably adorable daughters, Lexy and Maddy.”
As if to prove how adorable, Maddy pitched herself forward. Good reflexes had Gideon catching her one-armed. At which time she planted the next sloppy kiss on him.
Zoey let out a peal of laughter. “Sorry, she has no boundaries.”
“It’s okay. Nice to meet you, too.”
When Lexy deserted the dog long enough to try to climb up Gideon’s leg, Boone snatched her up.
“I’ll get out of your way.”
“No, finish your wine,” Arden insisted.
“So you’re a carpenter.”
Gideon glanced at Zoey as she relieved him of Maddy.
“Sometimes.”
“Gideon’s Joe Riley’s grandson. Riley’s Hardware.”
“Sure, I thought I’d seen you before. I was in there several months ago,” Boone told him. “If you can’t find what you need at Riley’s, Joe’ll find it for you.”
“Who’s driving?”
Zoey held up a fist. Gideon watched them do rock, paper, scissors with Zoey’s rock crushing her husband’s scissors.
“Woo. More wine for me. So you grew up in Riverbend, Gideon?”
“No, LA mostly. Thanks for the wine.”
“You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”
“Pop’s expecting me. With takeout.” Though now he actively craved spaghetti and meatballs.
“Just one thing, flipping back to the library. I’d really need to see a sample. You know, a piece of oak with the stain.”
“You’d be a fool not to. I’ve got scrap oak and the stain. I’ll drop it off. Nice meeting you all. Especially you.” He gave Maddy’s belly a light drill with his finger.
“I’ll walk you out.”
“I know the way.”
Zoey waited until the door closed behind him. “All right, tell me how is it you have the most beautiful man ever born—sorry, Boone.”
“I’ve got eyes, and my one sorrowful glass of wine.”
“Building your library.”
“Just the bookcases.” Arden lifted her own wine. “Just lucky, I guess.”