style="font-size:15px;"> “The rest of what makes Ana Hanson such an interesting, pretty woman.”
“Interesting and pretty describes my outgoing, dynamic sister, not me.”
“I don’t recall asking you about your sister. I’m only interested in getting to know you. And you are by no means plain.”
“Really, Rock, there’s not much to me.”
Rock reached up, pushed at a burnished curl clinging to her cheek. “There’s more than you know, Ana. Much more.”
Ana stepped back, away from his touch. “Remember, you were hired to work on restoring my cabinets, not me.”
Rock could tell she was scared, uncomfortable. He felt much the same way. And he still wasn’t sure where all of this might lead. “Fair enough,” he said. “But I’ve learned something about restoration over the years. Sometimes, if we keep polishing and pampering, we find true treasures underneath all the dirt and dust and neglect.”
“You’re talking in riddles again.”
“I’m telling it like it is,” he replied as he backed out the door. “You are a treasure, Ana. And somebody needs to show you that.”
She just smiled and said, “Thank you. You’re awfully sweet to try and make me feel better.”
Then she closed the door. Rock could hear the click of the lock, effectively shutting him out of her life for now.
“You should feel better,” he thought. “Someone needs to show you how special you are.” Rock decided that he was just the man for the job.
Chapter Four
“I invited Ana to dinner tonight—with you and me.”
Rock stared across the workshop at his mother. “That explains this surprise visit.”
Eloise rarely came to his workshop. She rarely left the compound of her home and studio. And she never cooked. Her groceries, housekeeping and other essentials, including real cooked meals, were now taken care of by a capable couple that lived in a small cottage near her property.
Rock had been pleased, but curious, when his mother had waltzed into the workshop this morning. Now he understood, of course. Eloise was up to matchmaking again.
“What if I have plans?”
“You never have plans, Rock. When was the last time you actually dated anyone?”
He had to stop and think. “I paid a visit to a single woman just the other night.”
Eloise lifted a finger, wagging it at him. “You’ve been watching wrestling on Saturday nights with old Miss McPherson again, haven’t you, son? That doesn’t count.”
“Okay, it’s been a while. But you know how it is, Mom. I work.”
Eloise picked up a plywood pattern. “Getting in your digs early today?”
“I’m sorry. Like mother, like son, I reckon. I guess I have been working too hard lately. What time is dinner? And what is Neda cooking?”
Eloise smiled at that. “Around seven, and we’re having a picnic out on the grounds—barbecued chicken, potato salad, the works. Ana told me once she loved picnics.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rock replied while he set his router flush with the base of a piece of wood, then lined up for the cut. Dropping his protective goggles on, he proceeded to cut the fresh-smelling walnut wood.
Eloise waited patiently, her hands folded over the front of her long linen skirt. When Rock had finished, she said, “Is that for Ana’s kitchen?”
“Yep. I’m having to replace some of the original wood—the back sections of some of the cabinets just aren’t sturdy anymore. Not to mention that most of the upper units need reinforcement.” He lifted his head toward the sections of what would soon be an island station in the kitchen. “Don Ashworth and his son, Cal, have been helping me with that monster. But they took the morning off—Cal’s getting his driver’s license.”
Eloise said, “Oh, I saw Greta Epperson at the town hall meeting about the lighthouse fund-raiser. She said rumor has it you and Ana were having dinner at the Sunken Pier a couple of nights ago.”
Rock lifted his gaze to the heavens. “Oh, great. I guess that news flash will grace the gossip page in this week’s paper. And it probably won’t matter that it was a business dinner.”
Eloise chuckled, then eyed the pieces that had yet to be put together inside Ana’s house. “Not to Greta. She loves trailing a good story and embellishing on the facts. And speaking of business, you’re doing a good job, according to Ana.”
“She hasn’t complained so far. Besides, she’s been busy training her staff and testing recipes. She’s got to get her menu down just right—she’s a stickler for details.”
“I want to hear the details of how things are progressing between you two, and I don’t mean the working relationship. I’d rather hear it from you than that pesky Greta.”
Staying tight-lipped, Rock picked up a hand plane and started passing it over a piece of wood he’d shaped into a crown molding. He wasn’t about to go into detail about Ana with his overly inquisitive mother.
Yet Eloise asked, anyway. “Do you like her?”
Pretending to misunderstand, Rock nodded toward the new cabinets. “This one—she’s coming along nicely.”
Eloise scoffed, kicked at sawdust. “You know perfectly well I’m not talking about cabinets. How are things with Ana?”
Rock stopped the pressure he’d been applying to the hand plane. “Things with Ana are…business as usual.”
He wouldn’t tell Eloise that the week he’d spent working for Ana had left him disturbed and excited. He liked knowing Ana was in the next room, working, sometimes humming, at her desk. He liked hearing her laughing and talking with her two capable sidekicks, Jackie and Tina. He enjoyed hearing the women talk about their families and their stressful days. He even enjoyed trying to figure out the secret codes women use to convey message. He suspected, from some of the sly, smiling looks the women gave him in passing, that some of those codes were used to throw him off. Or maybe drive him crazy.
But Rock didn’t ask for explanations. He worked silently, or with Don and Cal by his side. He worked steadily, since they only had a few weeks left before the opening. He couldn’t tell his mother that he went to bed each night with the scent of Ana’s floral perfume wafting through his senses. He couldn’t explain that when he went down to the beach for a midnight run, his thoughts always turned to the time he’d spent in Ana’s kitchen, measuring and hammering, tearing out and replacing.
And the whole time, he’d felt as if he’d been tearing away at his own old hurts and replacing them with something good and pure. Only, other than cooking him wonderful, dainty lunches so she could test her menu, Ana was keeping her distance. And keeping busy.
Which meant he couldn’t wait to see her tonight
