am. But could you see me as an innkeeper?” He laughed at the idea. “I’ll be lucky if I have enough money to finish the restoration. As soon as I’m done I’ll have to find a job and a place to live.”
“But close by, right?” Taylor still looked concerned.
Michael pushed out his chair and stood. “Not to worry, sis. That’s exactly the plan.” He reached for her hand, and she stood.
To Nicole’s surprise, the men offered to do dishes so the women could play with the children in the yard. She followed Taylor out onto the front porch and sat alongside her on the top step. Together they watched the sun sinking below the MoJoes, and Nicole let out a satisfied sigh. Taylor leaned back on outstretched arms and called out to John to keep an eye on his sister.
“It’s awesome, isn’t it?” she asked Nicole. “I hope I never take it for granted.”
“Yes. It is.” After a moment she added, “Thank you for dinner. It was the best meal I’ve had in ages.”
Taylor sat up and rested her elbows on her knees, her face reflecting some inner debate. “You’re very good with children. You’ve had experience, haven’t you?”
Nicole hesitated only a second. “Yes.” She wanted to volunteer more, but was afraid where the questions might lead.
“Could you provide references?”
Excitement and hope sent a shiver down her back. Could she? The mothers she’d helped would certainly recommend her, yet she couldn’t have mail sent to Joeville without the risk of being tracked down. Then she remembered yesterday and the little post office adjacent to the doughnut shop nearly fifty miles away.
She met Taylor’s hopeful smile with one of her own. “It may take a week or two, but yes, I’m sure I can.”
“Mind keeping this between us for the tune being?”
“No. Not at all.”
They watched the children and didn’t say much after that, but Nicole knew she had just made her first friend in Joeville. For a moment she thought about asking what had happened to Michael at the party, but she didn’t want to pry.
Still, the longer she thought about Taylor’s brother, the more she was certain that he had come to this place with baggage of his own. She wasn’t the only one with something to hide.
Four
Michael dropped a plumb line from the header above the new door frame leading to one of the large upstairs bathrooms, the scent of this morning’s bacon lingering in the air, and the image of Nicole lingering in his mind. He’d read the paper and drunk coffee, pretending to ignore her, but when she hadn’t been looking, he’d studied her graceful and confident movements around the kitchen. It had been seven years since his mother’s death, and until this morning he didn’t realize how much he missed the presence of a woman doing what seemed to come natural. It felt good.
Damn good.
Damn it. This wasn’t smart. In a week or so she’d be gone. He’d be wise to remember that.
He kicked the bottom of the stud so that it aligned with the plumb line, then hunkered down and nailed it in place.
“Refill?”
Over his shoulder Nicole stood with a fresh pot of coffee. He lifted his mug from the floor, and she filled it, a smile on her face and a fresh floral scent invading his space. Nowhere was there a hint of the woman with the attitude he’d met yesterday. Which was the real Nicole? Or was she a chameleon, someone who could adapt at the drop of a hat? And for what purpose? To ingratiate herself so that she could stay here indefinitely?
“Can I help you with anything?” Her voice sounded sincere enough.
“No, thank you. Breakfast was great.” He sipped some of the hot brew and added, “And so is this coffee. Thanks.” Damn! Why did he feel so uncomfortable with her standing nearby? He felt awkward and clumsy and so big next to her slight figure.
And what a figure it was, he thought, setting his mug down and turning back to his work. Her knit top, though not snug, could not hide her generous curves. Today’s jeans looked even sexier than yesterday’s denim skirt. Oh, brother. It had to be his neglected libido speaking. This line of thinking was stupid, stupid, stupid.
“There’s a big pot of soup simmering on the stove,” she said to his back. “I...I, uh, was thinking maybe I should do a major grocery shopping today...unless you need me for something else.”
No, no. Please leave. “You can take the van, if you want. Keys are hanging by the door.” He kept hammering at the nail, refusing to meet those big brown eyes.
“Could you check on the soup whenever you’re downstairs?”
“Sure.”
“It should be boiled-down and thick enough by lunchtime. There’s some bread cooling on a rack, too.”
“Great.”
“Um...I have some personal things to take care of while I’m out, so I probably won’t be back until supper. Is that okay?”
“No problem. Take your time.” Please.
“Well, then—”
She was still standing there, her perfume driving him to distraction. What was she waiting for? And then it hit him. Money. She’d need money for groceries.
He stood and retrieved the money clip from his pocket and started counting out twenties. He handed them to her, and she took them shyly, a slight tinge of pink rising in her cheeks. “Do you think this is enough?”
“Oh, plenty, I’m sure.” She looked at him soulfully, and this time he couldn’t look away. “Thank you, Michael, for everything.”
He could feel the heat rising up his neck, and he waved a hand before returning to his work. “See ya later.”
He heard her retreating and forced himself not to look over his shoulder, not to notice again the gentle sway of her hips, the just-right curve of her small backside. He blew out a loud breath. It was good she’d be gone all day. He had work to do.
Yes, he lectured himself, downing more coffee. He’d put Nicole out of his mind and get down to business.
He grabbed a handful of nails and dropped them into his tool belt, a little voice at the back of his head reminding him of a more immediate problem—one he’d been avoiding. It was time he sorted things out regarding the Malones. In Michigan it had been easy to think he could deal with the complications of their intertwined families. Here, faceto-face with people he barely knew, it was quite a different matter.
Michael gave up any pretext of working and sat cross-legged on the floor. The subject needed more than a cursory glance, and there was no point putting it off any longer. If he planned to live in Joeville, he’d have to see them sooner or later and make peace. Not that they had ever been at war, he reminded himself. Actually, in the brief time he had met them seven years ago, he liked the whole family.
Even
