stomach turned. She raised her hand. “I vote for documentation. It’s been more than a decade since this station was in service. If I promise to take care of things by, say, next week? Can we avoid citations?” It didn’t matter that none of this was Mandy’s fault; excessive paper trails would get her fired.
Why couldn’t Grandpa have wanted her to be the postmaster in Cloverdale?
Mr. Intensity stared at Mandy with angry eyes. When she’d first seen him, that anger had been like banked coals. That anger had been accented by the rigid set to his shoulders, the stiffness of his back, the determined set to his strong chin. Here was a man who was serious about his job and protecting others. He’d always fight for what he believed in. Passionately. In a loud voice. And with a fierce scowl.
She approached conflict the opposite way—calmly, softly, with a smile—because she’d learned nothing was solved with loud voices and lines of tears.
“Ben,” his father said in a voice that soothed.
Ben’s intensity faded. His fire banked. To a degree.
His jaw worked as he turned back to Mandy. “What’s that noise?”
She glanced around, looking for a scuttling rat or raccoon. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly. No fire alarm.” Ben pointed to the ceiling and a round, age-yellowed fire alarm. “It should have gone off.” He dragged a stool to the sorting counter. “Dad, sit down over here and get out your pen. We’re making a list.”
Mandy couldn’t thank him quickly enough.
“What’s this?” Ben tilted the coffee tin on the counter, the one filled with matches.
“The guys who used to work here were heavy smokers.” Utley and her grandfather. “I’ve been collecting their matchbooks for days so I can throw them out all at once.” Filling the tin gave her a sense of accomplishment.
“I’d feel better if we trashed them now.” He waited for her response, not that he wanted her to argue.
“Fine.” She’d never complain about Olivia’s teenage drama episodes again.
Or at least, she’d think twice before complaining.
“Don’t let Ben rattle you.” Keith settled on the stool. “My son is all about the unvarnished truth when it comes to the job. It’s why he’s still single. But he’s raising his godchild, which proves he has parenting potential.”
“Thank you, oh wise one.” And then Ben’s intensity dialed back even further. His lips curled up in a lopsided, rueful smile that implied he’d be irresistible if he had a sense of humor and a heart.
Focus, girlfriend. Focus. Her career. Those bills. Olivia.
She didn’t have time to create a picture that smoothed over the faults of a man.
For the next fifteen minutes, Ben pointed out what needed fixing to bring the station up to code and why. New lighted Exit signs. New fire alarms. New extinguishers. New, new, new. As if the cost wasn’t a consideration.
Mandy’s head hurt.
Ben was so sure of himself. If Mandy was to succeed here, she’d need some of his confidence.
“The fire control panel should be outside.” Ben led her down the outdoor concrete steps of the loading bay and across the graded space where mail trucks backed in so their beds were even with the loading dock. He walked the building’s perimeter with long strides. Being a good six inches taller than she was, his legs ate up more distance than hers.
Mandy’s mother would have said Ben had excellent posture. She would’ve said his attention to detail meant he was a good man. She would’ve said his thick dark hair was dreamy. Mandy’s mother would’ve asked Ben out, offered to have his babies and then left those kids in the care of her oldest child.
Mandy was getting as overly dramatic as Olivia.
She smiled harder, closing the distance between them. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I can’t find it.” Ben halted his search, arms akimbo, scowling down at Mandy, but not nearly as sharply as before. “And yet, you’re smiling.”
“I...uh...” Mandy had to stand up for herself if she was to succeed as postmaster. “I find a smile helps me through tough times. It keeps all the bad stuff at bay, you know?”
“Not really.” His stare tried to pierce her words, but they were the truth and held up to his inspection. After a moment, Ben smiled enigmatically and turned his attention back to the gray, warped and peeling siding. “It should be right here.” And then he stepped closer to the overgrown hedges bordering the wall, moving branches aside.
Mandy braced herself for Riley’s now-familiar growl. The raccoon had been hunkering down in the bushes since she’d nailed a board over the hole he’d made in the siding.
But not even Riley was courageous enough to stand up to the ferocious Ben Libby.
“There it is.” Ben angled so she could see the panel. He tapped the gauge. “See this? There’s no water pressure. And when I open up the valve...” He turned the spigot.
Nothing happened.
Ben’s gaze connected with hers the way a teacher’s did to a student’s when waiting for an answer to an easy question.
“I’m assuming there’s supposed to be water flowing somewhere?” she said tentatively.
“And an alarm going off.” Ben shut the valve. “This needs to be fixed before you open. Priority one.”
Such a long list. Mandy nodded numbly.
But she kept smiling.
* * *
“IS THAT...” Ben moved branches aside. “Cat food?”
“Yes.” Mandy’s cheeks bloomed with soft color. “I evicted Riley. I owed him something.”
“Owed a raccoon?” Ben stood and studied Mandy once more. She didn’t look as if she’d be full of surprises. This close, he could see the fabric of her striped postal shirt was worn at the collar, the thickness of her lashes, the weariness in her brown eyes. And yet, despite her fatigue and her smile, there was a determination to the set of her shoulders. She was a surprise, all right. “Won’t free food keep him coming back?”
That smile of hers wavered, and she stared into his eyes as if he confounded her as much as she did him. “Have you ever wondered where you’ll live?”
“No.” His answer came too quickly. “Well, yes. Recently.” After Erica died, he’d realized raising a little girl wouldn’t work in his studio apartment. He’d sublet his unit and moved in with his parents. “It was unsettling.”
“Then you understand,” she said in a voice that said volumes about the uncertainties she’d faced in life. “Change is hard, even for a raccoon.”
He
