Captivating A Cowboy. Jill Limber

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Captivating A Cowboy - Jill  Limber

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laughed. “I’m moved in, but it’s temporary. As soon as I can get the placed fixed up, it goes on the market and I go home.”

      “Where’s home?” He didn’t like the thought of her leaving Ferndale. He had plans to get to know her better.

      A lot better.

      “Los Angeles.”

      He couldn’t think of a worse place to live. “Why?”

      She raised a finely arched eyebrow. “Why what?”

      “Why do you live there?” It must be for her job.

      She laughed. “Because I like it. Why do you live in Ferndale?”

      He grinned at her. “Because I like it.” Or at least he would when he could move into his own home.

      “What do you do in L.A.?” He wondered what kind of job would keep her there.

      “I teach high school. English.”

      The waitress brought the bill and they both reached for it. “I invited you.” Julie jerked the slip of paper out of his hand.

      “Half?” He didn’t let women buy him meals. It might be old-fashioned, but it didn’t set right.

      “No. Then I’ll feel guilty for picking your brain the whole time we ate.”

      Tony shrugged, then thought of a plan. “Okay. But only if you agree to have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

      Julie watched him for a minute. He sensed her hesitation, then she gave him another of her great smiles. “Deal.”

      He watched her walk up to the counter to pay.

      He’d never had a teacher who looked like Ms. Kerns. The boys in her classes probably had a hard time keeping their minds on the subject matter when she was standing in front of the class.

      He stood up and pulled two bills out of his pocket for the tip. She saw him leave the money on the table and rolled her eyes.

      They walked back to her house in companionable silence.

      He glanced over at her. She could teach anywhere. Why would she choose to live in a big smelly city like Los Angeles? Maybe a guy kept her there. He didn’t like the thought.

      “So you teach English. Fond of the classics?” He liked her hair. So many different shades of brown.

      She shrugged. “I’m fond of all kinds of books.”

      He had been, too, once. He had devoured books, losing himself for hours in them. Since the accident he had to struggle to read, and the frustration ruined the pleasure.

      When they got to her place Tony unloaded the rest of her order and carried a ladder and bag of small hand tools upstairs. The banister was loose and needed bracing.

      He found Julie leaning against a piece of covered furniture, holding her how-to book and frowning.

      “You need me to stay?” He glanced over at the book she studied. Doing plaster work took some skill. Even with everything he’d told her he was skeptical that she could manage alone.

      “Nope.” She glanced up from the page she studied and smiled. “Remember? I’m going to do it myself.”

      He wondered why she was so stubborn about not having help. He’d be willing to take time off from working on his own house. He didn’t say anything. From the set of her shoulders and the jut of her chin it was obvious she was intent on tackling the job herself.

      He’d give her the rest of the day to see how hard the job was, then come back and see if she’d changed her mind about his help.

      He reached into the bag and pulled out the goggles and dust mask he had purchased and added to her order.

      “Come over here.” Tony motioned to her.

      When she hesitated, he said, “Just more friendly advice.”

      She shrugged and moved to his side. Her hair smelled like lemons, and he fought the urge to lean closer and inhale.

      He positioned her under the worst of the damage, liking the feel of her warm skin under her cotton shirt.

      Reluctantly he let go of her and pointed to the ceiling. “Always wear these.” He held up the mask and goggles. “They’ll get in your way, but you’ll get used to them. Be sure to chip off all the stained plaster. Otherwise, the stain will bleed through your new paint.”

      “Okay.” She glanced up to the ceiling and back to his face.

      Tony handed over the safety equipment and wanted to reach for her, the urge to kiss her strong.

      He pulled back. Whoa, way too soon for a move like that, he thought. Instead he stepped away and opened the ladder, positioning it under a gaping hole in the ceiling. “Good luck.”

      As he turned to leave, she said, “’Bye, Tony. And thanks.”

      “Anytime. Thanks for lunch.” He gave her a smile before he started down the stairs.

      Julie watched him go, then glanced down at the goggles and mask dangling from her fingers. His concern about her safety touched her.

      She ran a finger over the ridges in the blue mask. The handsome man had some kind of problem with speech comprehension and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She’d noticed how he’d watched her face intently as she spoke, and then there would be a bit of lag time before he replied. She didn’t think he was deaf, but perhaps she was wrong and he was reading lips.

      Curiosity got the better of her and she went out to the upstairs landing and leaned over the rail just as he opened the front door.

      “Tony?” She kept her voice very quiet.

      He turned immediately. “Yes?”

      Well, his hearing was fine. She groped for something to say. “Ah, if you see Cliff, tell him thanks for the delivery.”

      He tipped his hat. “Sure thing. Be careful not to lean on that banister. It’s loose.” He closed the door behind him.

      She knew the railing was loose. She just hadn’t gotten to that chapter in her fix-it book yet.

      She glanced around the upstairs landing. How hard could it be? She had the tools and the how-to book. If she sold the place as a fixer-upper she would get a lot less for it, and she needed the money.

      Her dream was to take time off teaching to write. She had ideas for several children’s books, but she needed the time. Teaching seemed to drain away her creativity.

      She’d sublet her apartment at the beach for the summer and planned to spend her vacation repairing plaster and painting. Then she’d put the house up for sale and go back to Los Angeles in time to start teaching. When the house sold, she’d take a leave of absence to write.

      Julie walked

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