a room full of ultraconservative bankers to agree with her.
* * *
Chelsea Barnes, Paul thought while he painstakingly sharpened an old saw blade one tooth at a time. Of all the people Theo Barnes could’ve sent to do this appraisal, who’d have guessed he’d choose his tightly wound daughter?
While his visitor poked around, taking electronic notes on her tablet and snapping pictures with a slick digital 35 mm camera, Paul tried not to watch her, but it was tough. Somewhere along the line, the crazy-smart bookworm that lingered in his adolescent memories had become one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met.
Not gorgeous like a model, he amended silently. She was too petite for that. But the gray suit and crisp white blouse she wore set off her expertly twisted auburn hair and vibrant green eyes to perfection. The earrings sparkling in the sunlight were obviously diamonds, and more studded the slender gold watch that had probably cost more than he made in a month. The two of them might’ve started out in the same tiny town, but they’d ended up at completely opposite ends of the spectrum.
As she prowled around his domain, those keen eyes didn’t seem to miss a thing, lighting with curiosity while she examined the machinery, narrowing when she glanced into the darkness beyond the production area.
“What’s back there?” she asked, pointing with her stylus.
“I call it the tomb,” he joked. “Even Boyd won’t go back there.”
Clearly unamused, she angled a look at him, one elegant brow lifted in reproach. “That’s nearly half your available floor space and will be included in the appraisal. If you don’t currently have it in your plans, we’ll want to invent a use for it before the board reviews your request.”
Paul couldn’t believe his ears. Was the ice princess of Barrett’s Mill High actually stepping down from her glacier to help a peasant? His attitude must have showed, because she turned to face him head-on.
She didn’t look happy. “Did I say something funny?”
“No. Why?”
“You were grinning,” she said haughtily, tilting her cute little nose in the air. “I’m totally serious about this. You should be, too.”
She’d been serious about everything when they were growing up, too, he recalled grimly. Always studying, never allowing anyone to discover if she had a lighter side. Chilled by her frosty glare, Paul decided that despite the smile she’d given him earlier, she hadn’t changed all that much. Not that it mattered to him either way. The only approval he needed from her was financial.
When Boyd ambled over to say hello to her, Paul warned, “Not now, boy. The lady has work to do.”
To his amazement, she crouched down and offered a delicate hand to the lumbering hound. “Oh, I can take a break. Boyd, is it?”
The big oaf woofed at her and collapsed onto his side in a shameless plea for a belly rub. With a quick laugh, she obliged. “There’s a good boy. How did you end up here, anyway?”
“You mean, with me?” Paul poked a little fun at himself, hoping to share in her suddenly generous mood. “He wandered into the logging camp I was working at, half-starved but friendly as could be. I shared a cheeseburger with him, and here we are.”
She gazed up at him with something he’d never expected to see from her in a million years: respect. “You saved his life. That’s amazing.”
Actually, Boyd had done more for Paul than the other way around, but he wasn’t comfortable telling her that. Instead, he shrugged. “He’s a great dog, and he deserved a chance.”
“But you’re the one who gave it to him,” she pressed, standing to look Paul squarely in the eye. He couldn’t imagine what might be going through that pretty head of hers right now, but he was fairly certain he was better off not knowing. In his experience, once you assumed you could determine what a woman was thinking, it was a sure sign you were headed for trouble.
Big trouble.
Hoping to appear nonchalant, he folded his arms and leaned against a support post. “So, any ideas for what I should claim I’m gonna do with that back room?”
After a moment, she replied, “It should be something that generates revenue aside from the furniture business. The idea is to broaden your appeal and be less at the mercy of the outside retail market. An area for woodworking classes or a gift shop that sells specialty items people can only get here or on your website, something like that.”
“Huh. I’ve done a lotta things in my life, but I’m not much of a teacher, and I wouldn’t even know where to start designing a website.”
“If you don’t mind me asking,” she said, “what have you been doing?”
“Let’s see. When I was in Oklahoma, I worked in the oil fields. In Missouri, I did some long-haul trucking. In Colorado, I worked on an alpaca farm.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Word of advice—they might look cute, but they’re nasty when you rile ’em.” That got him a flicker of a grin, and he was pretty proud of himself. Until she gave him one of those troublemaker looks that made any guy with half a brain want to squirm.
“Maybe you know someone who could help you with the retail part,” she said with an odd glint in her eyes.
Crazy as it seemed, he wondered if she was fishing for details on his personal life. He wasn’t sure why she cared, but he decided to play along, just for fun.
Rubbing his chin, he pretended to consider her suggestion. “Maybe I do. Could be dangerous to ask her, though, seeing as the last time I saw her she was in Phoenix, tossing my stuff out a window and chucking a lamp at my head.”
That got him a withering feminine glare that made him feel about six inches tall. “I can’t begin to imagine why.”
Her response caught him off guard, and he bristled defensively, which was completely out of character for him. Most of the time, he couldn’t care less what other people thought of him. Why did this snippy woman’s opinion matter so much? “That’s kinda harsh, don’t you think?”
“Men are all the same,” she informed him, as if he needed the lesson and it was up to her to enlighten him. “You’re big teddy bears until something doesn’t go your way, then you’re on your way out the door. It’s a wonder any of you ever grow up enough to amount to anything.”
“Hey, she kicked me out.” He pointed to his chest for emphasis.
Chelsea’s eyes sparked like furious emeralds. “Did you ever ask her why?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but she traded me in for a guy with a Porsche. When I called her a greedy gold digger, she didn’t take it well.” It still stung that what he’d had to offer her hadn’t been enough. The blow to his ego hadn’t quite healed, and he was determined to avoid a repeat performance.
“So you just walked out, packed up your truck and went to Oregon?” When he didn’t respond, she shook her head at him. “Same old Paul. Never happy with where you are, always looking over the horizon for something better.”
