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Jena did not know why she listened to her uncle. Sure, because she loved him, and he was a good guy. But whenever she listened to his ideas—or, acted on them—she found herself in some odd situation. Like now.
She was the electrical/HVAC person, not the you’ve bought a rundown property and want on estimate and overview on the renovation project person.
Glancing around, she wondered why anyone would buy this run-down old farmhouse. The front door was off the hinges, the probably toxic paint peeling, and who knew what a mess the electrical would be. Though she wouldn’t mind taking on a challenge of that magnitude. And the construction co-op she worked for, Levi and Company, could use the job. Though why she was the point person for this one...that was usually Luke’s or Uncle Tim’s job.
She strode through the overgrown brown grass and weeds, glad she wore her work clothes of boots, jeans, and a sturdy, long-sleeved shirt. A musty smell made her nose twitch, but then a cold October breeze hit and a clean, earthy scent quickened her pace. Beyond the house, a small grove—orchard?—of trees created an idea in her mind of what this might once have been. One of those rare-now small working farmsteads. Grandma Raines liked to tell stories about growing up in the north of the county on such a farm. But they were a thing of the past.
Why was she here?
Standing on the front path, she crossed her arms. Jena believed in the future, and the present she’d worked hard to create. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she frowned. The potential client was ten minutes late. Her to-do list would get behind schedule at this rate. She nibbled at her fingernail before crossing her arms again.
She had two other jobs today, and would be spending the evening with her cousin so her aunt and uncle could have a date night.
“Uncle Tim,” she said into the voice call feature of her phone. But she hung up before it rang, as a vehicle approaching made itself known in the crunch of tires on gravel.
A truck bounced along the rough road at too fast a speed, kicking up rocks and dirt. She braved the rickety porch in case the driver wasn’t able to stop, or didn’t know where to park. The steps creaked under her tread. She kept her phone out, in case this wasn’t the client.
The truck rattled to a stop over a rocky patch near a wide buckeye tree, its round nuts littering the ground. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and counted to ten.
A tall, lanky guy hopped out of the truck and waved. “Hi!” he called in a friendly tone that did little to cool her irritation. “I’m Grant Manning. Are you Jena Raines?” The client, then. He stopped his approach when he got to the steps, shoving his hands in his pockets. His Adam’s apple bobbed. She must have a super scowl on, what Uncle Tim called trademark Jena. He preferred her signature smile.
She tried to plaster one on and stepped toward Mr. Manning, her hand outstretched. Moving forward quickly, she strode down the stairs. The next to last step creaked and snapped. Flailing her arms to try to catch a fall, her cell phone flew out of her hand, and she landed smack into Grant Manning’s chest. A surprisingly solid torso. With strong arms wrapping around her and righting her onto the ground. And his scent. Leaning into him for a moment—just to get her breath back, of course—she caught the crisp fragrance of cinnamon and spice and spruce.
“You okay?” he asked in a low voice. He held her close.
Her irritation had drained away, leaving her a sloppy mess. She could not feel all melty and mushy from being in Grant Manning’s arms. She wasn’t that type of person.
“Sure, fine,” she said, pushing away. “Uh, thanks.”
Brushing her hands down her front, she tried not to seem awkward about getting herself together. Not that she cared what he thought, except he was a potential client. And the Mannings were big business. She didn’t know why he’d be interested in this place, unless they were planning to expand closer to Loving now that three of the brothers had moved to town. Maybe they were going to raze this place and do something.
He ducked down. Maybe he was going to check her ankle or something.
“Oh, I’m okay.”
“I hope your phone is.” He stood upright and handed her the phone, now dusty.
“Sure, it’s fine.” She rubbed it on her jeans and checked it. “Yep, okay.”
“Good. So...uh...Mrs. G said you all are the best outfit in town for construction and renovation?”
“I wouldn’t argue with Mrs. G.”
“Me either.” He smiled.
Wow. He was sure cute. His lean face still beamed some sort of boyish joy that took her off guard, yet he was manly with his stubbly, square jaw and wiry frame.
“What do you have in mind?” Her throat heated with her awkward-ish question that sounded more like she was propositioning him rather than asking about business. She formulated a qualifier. “For this place.”
“First I need to know if it’s salvageable. Then, maybe we could talk over lunch? Mrs. G said she’d save us a table.”
“Okay, sure.” People had client lunches. That was totally normal. What wasn’t usual was the way her insides were reacting to Grant’s closeness. “Do you have the key, Mr. Manning?” She needed to get herself in line, professional.
“Grant, please. And yeah, but careful on those stairs.”
“You too. I don’t need to hear from Uncle Tim or Mrs. G about how I brought you back to town with a broken bone or something.”
He smiled. “Yeah, that wouldn’t go over well. Plus, it would make Mrs. G feel badly. She sold me this place.”
Jena stopped on the front porch. “What?” Jena thought she and everyone at Levi and Company were pretty up-to-date on who owned what in town.
“That’s why it wasn’t on the open market. She wanted to make sure the right person bought the old place. Let’s see inside.” He opened the door for her, a completely unnecessary, but polite, gesture.
She glanced at him again. His strong profile was outlined in the low light shafting in through dust-coated windows. She pushed her hand up through the back of her shoulder-length hair.
“You have me intrigued. But I’ll wait for the story until lunch.”
“Uh, great.” His voice cracked slightly and he looked around. “So, I’ve only been here once. Wanted a professional opinion on the place. To see if your company would be the right fit for the renovations.”
This was weird. Really, the head of the company, Luke Levi, should have been out here for a general property assessment. Or the county inspector. Luke and Uncle Tim had gone over assessments with her, so she could understand the full business, but she had no experience, except when it came to electrical, HVAC, and appliances.
“I’ll do my best. But we’d need to have Mr. Levi out for a firm estimate.”
“Right... Yeah. Well.” His Adam’s apple bobbed again. “Mrs. G said you were the person...for today.”
Jena furrowed her brows. This sounded suspiciously like a setup. After Luke and Dolly, Mrs. G’s niece, had gotten together, the town buzzed with speculation about Mrs. Gallagher and her friend Mrs. Davis matchmaking for local couples.
Jena didn’t want any part of that. She loved her life, one she’d worked hard to create. At only twenty-two, she had her own apartment, a good job as a certified electrician, solid friendships, and a better family life now that her parents, brother, and grandparents had moved hundreds of miles away. It was orderly, drama-free, and satisfying. She wasn’t going to let anything, or anyone, interfere with that.
No matter how much Grant’s endearing looks and slightly awkward ways perked her attention and attraction.
She pulled off her backpack, put her hair in a ponytail, and donned coveralls. She didn’t want to get dust and dirt on her clothes if they’d be going to lunch. “I’ll take a look around. Meet you back here in twenty minutes.”
“Got it.”
He’d gotten more than that—he’d captured her focus in a way she didn’t like.