A Regular Joe. Jennifer Drew
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Now, seeing that glorious mane of raven hair cascading over her shoulders, staring at her shapely feminine physique, which was silhouetted against the lantern light and campfire, took his awareness of her to another dangerous level. Her arousing image was probably going to be plastered on the billboard in his brain for the next week—or ten.
“My point, Mr. Gray,” she growled, “is that these rogue retirees are not your responsibility. They are my family, every blasted one of them. They raised me.”
“So I’ve heard, but I’ve adopted them. They entertain me. They distract me.”
She elevated a perfectly sculpted brow. “Distract you from what, may I ask?”
Joe strode past her to bring up the rear of the procession of senior citizens who were hobbling uphill toward his truck. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“Don’t I?” she called after him.
“Take my word for it, boss lady,” he bit off as he disappeared into the shadows.
Exasperated, Mattie smothered the small campfire, then tramped up the path that led to her house. She had no idea why Joe needed a distraction. Was he pining for a lost love? Grieving for a loved one? Getting over a broken marriage? Just because he claimed to be sans wife or girlfriend did not mean that he hadn’t had one or the other in the recent past and that he wasn’t trying to cope with the emptiness in his life.
The more she pondered that possibility, the more she was convinced that Joe had run away from an upsetting situation, or was on the run from himself and tormenting memories. It would explain why he’d shown up in Fox Hollow with little more than a few changes of clothing and no personal possessions.
Now what was she supposed to do? she asked herself as she mounted the back steps. Should she apologize for digging up unpleasant memories when she interrogated him? Should she pretend the conversation hadn’t happened, just like she tried to pretend they hadn’t almost shared a kiss?
Mattie grabbed a glass of water, then plunked into her recliner. The drone of the television provided very little distraction from her thoughts. Damn, there was that word again. Why did Joe need a distraction? Was he battling private demons? Should she offer to listen to his woes?
The roar of an engine and headlights glancing off the windows brought Mattie upright. She set aside her glass and padded to the front door.
What now? Had the Five Musketeers been overtaken before they could sneak in the same window they sneaked out? Had they been evicted from the home?
It only took a moment to recognize Joe’s rattletrap truck and note that he was alone. “Did you get them tucked into bed?” she asked as he strode purposefully toward her porch.
“May I come in?” He didn’t await a reply, just shouldered past her, moved her aside, then closed the door.
He loomed over her, looking more intense and somber than she’d ever seen him. Mattie involuntarily stepped back and attempted to shield herself, because she was still wearing the revealing T-shirt he’d commented on down at the creek.
“First off, I like your grandfather and his cronies. A lot,” Joe declared. “I grew up with my grandfather, and I miss having him around, like in the old days. He’s healthy enough to enjoy an active retirement and he travels, so I don’t see him as much as I used to. So, if I enjoy a substitute grandfather, times five, that’s my business.
“For your information, I got permission to take the gang out for the evening. They don’t know that, of course, because I don’t want to spoil their fun thinking they’ve pulled a fast one on the director and the nursing staff. In fact, I also have permission to take the gang on outings, as long as the joy rides don’t interfere with taking their medication on time. I realize that this leaves you playing the heavy, but that’s the role they’ve come to expect of their honorary, concerned granddaughter.”
Mattie was greatly relieved to hear Joe had gone through the proper channels for these evening outings. She could kick herself for not thinking to ask permission when the breakouts started.
“I’m sorry I came down on you like a semi load of bricks,” she murmured.
“Don’t be, because I’m not finished yet,” he assured her. He took a step closer, his gaze bearing down on her, making her squirm self-consciously. “I’ve decided you need to know what is causing the problem that requires a distraction.”
“If you don’t want to discuss it, I understand,” she bleated, her voice reacting to his overpowering nearness. “Really, Joe, if it’s personal and you aren’t comfortable confiding in me, it’s okay. If you’re recently divorced, or have ended a serious relationship, I know it must be difficult to discuss. Considering that you arrived here with little more than a suitcase of clothes and a clunker truck, I put two and two together. But believe me, I—”
At that point, he barked a laugh, confusing her.
“Is that what you thought?” He raked his fingers through his tousled dark hair. “I guess I did invite that impression, didn’t I? The truth is that I ran away from home, from a job that was bringing me down. I had to get away because I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. Or maybe I didn’t like what I’d become. Whatever the case, leaving that other life behind seemed the only solution. I just needed to be…away.”
That much he could confide in her. As for the rest of it, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he was the high king of woodcraft, who left his tufted throne to regain touch with a company that had ballooned out of proportion. He couldn’t tell her that tonight anyway. Not when he’d come here to straighten out her misconception. The fact of the matter was that he was going berserk because he’d vowed not to touch her—thanks to some stupid rule he’d made in his office, during a momentary lapse in judgment. And it was a dumb rule that he was going to rescind, soon as he returned to corporate headquarters.
Didn’t it stand to reason that people who hired on at Hobby Hut shared mutual interests? Who was he to discourage what might turn out to be a mutually satisfying relationship between business associates? If, however, a relationship interfered with production or caused problems that affected the store, then that was something else entirely. As far as Mattie’s rule of thumb went, then it was up to her to make the choice. Joe had made his decision during the return drive from Paradise Valley.
Joe sighed audibly, then glanced down to see Mattie staring up at him, waiting for him to continue. Damn, she looked so tempting in that ragged T-shirt, her glorious hair tumbling over her shoulders, those expressive violet eyes dominating her pixielike face.
Desire landed a blow below his belt buckle. Nothing new there. Joe had been in a permanent state of arousal for damn near a week. Mattie, however, seemed oblivious that he worked extra hard at maintaining self-control while she was underfoot. It was high time she knew the effect she had on him. If he had to deal with it, maybe she should have to, too.
“You are the problem that requires distraction,” he blurted out.
Her eyes popped. Her jaw sagged on its hinges. She stared at him as if artificial ivy dangled from his ears.