It was probably the fact that she was up near the ceiling and thus breathing in all of the paint and lacquer fumes that had drifted upward, but she felt lightheaded, and…just off, somehow. She and Gage had been working in companionable silence for a while now, broken only by that dreadful country twang that he somehow called music, and the roar of the table saw as he ran boards through it.
It had been…nice. Other than the dreadful music, of course, but she didn’t think that she could complain about her free labor’s horrendous choice in music. Listening to songs about a guy’s dog running away was the least she could do after all of Gage’s help.
Food. I need food.
“Ready for me to pay you back for the welcome-to-Sawyer dinner?” she asked, already eagerly climbing down the ladder. Her stomach had begun its low rumble and she was afraid it’d reach cacophony levels if she held off eating for much longer. “I still haven’t made it down to the diner – Betty’s, right? – and I figure lunch on me is a good way to say thanks for your help today.”
Gage pulled his safety glasses off and wiped at his face and hair, sending a shower of sawdust into the air. They both coughed and hacked from it, until Gage could finally get out, “Are you sure you wanna go out into public with me?”
She laughed, scrubbing at her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m sure I look just as awful,” she said dryly. “I’m getting paint into places I didn’t even know I had. If you’re willing to be seen in public with me, I’m willing to be seen with you. Let me go clean out my paintbrush and put a lid on the can, and I’ll be ready to go.”
She scrubbed up in the big utility sink in the back, listening to the water run in the bathroom as Gage did his best to clean up too. She knew, of course, that there was no mirror in the bathroom – only a giant light spot on the wall where the old one used to hang – but he’d at least be able to get most of the sawdust off in the sink. Probably.
He came out of the bathroom, his hair wet and glistening – he’d apparently chosen to dunk his head in the sink – and most of his face was clean, except…
“Hold on, you’ve got this big stripe right here,” she said, gesturing vaguely to her cheek. He scrubbed at his cheek. “No, the other side.” He switched cheeks. “Now you’ve got a clean spot in the middle of the dirty spot,” she said, laughing. “C’mon.”
She slipped past him into the bathroom and wet a paper towel as he obediently pulled his glasses off. She dabbed at his face, swiping and wiping and then throwing away the paper towel and starting over again when it got too ragged and dirty to use. His face was a warm, stubbled world under her fingertips and she felt her own face warming up as she scrubbed away.
She kept her eyes glued to his square jaw, though, using her peripheral vision to clean the rest of his face. What if she looked up and caught his gaze? She couldn’t look him in the eye. She was too close to him.
Finally, everything she could spot out of the corner of her eye had been cleaned and she stepped back with a forced laugh. “There, you look better,” she pronounced, her gaze hovering vaguely to the left of his head.
“Okay, but now it’s my turn,” he said, shoving his glasses back on and turning the tap on again, grabbing a paper towel and dipping it underneath the stream of water.
She sucked in a breath and held it, hoping that if she just didn’t breathe ever again, she could keep from breathing in his smell – which somehow still reminded her of bread and yeast and sugar, even after two days of him not baking anything – and thus keep from making a fool out of herself and she absolutely, positively did not like him because…because…
Well, because.
He gently took her chin into his calloused, large fingers, turning her face this way and that, wiping gently with the towel, more gently than a guy of his size should be able to wield a paper towel. She waited for the ever-present panic to well up inside of her and smother her; to roll over her in dark waves and keep her from breathing or thinking but only running, except…
The panic didn’t come.
Here she was with a guy – a huge, muscular guy – standing in the doorway of a tiny bathroom, blocking her in, in the back of a building that was otherwise empty, and she should be terrified but…she wasn’t?
“There,” he said softly, and then his fingers disappeared from her chin and she heard the wet paper towel drop into the trash. “The paint is all gone.”
Seemingly of their own accord – because Cady knew better than to open up her eyes while standing this close to a guy – her eyes fluttered open and she realized that she was just inches away from Gage and he was looking down at her and even if there wasn’t lust in her eyes and she had no idea if there was because she was all turned around inside, and up was down, and right was left—
Breathe, Cady—
But even if there wasn’t lust in her eyes, there was in his. She hadn’t had much experience having a guy look at her like…like this, but even ignorant, naïve Cady knew what that look meant.
It meant trouble.
Big, fat, inescapable trouble.
“Ready to go?” Her voice hit a painfully high note with that last vowel, and then she was practically sprinting out of the store and onto the street…
Where she came to a dead stop and with a painful sigh, she turned around. Purse. She needed her purse if she was going to pay for this lunch.
Gage had stopped just inside of the door and was waiting quietly for her as she came bustling back in, acting to all the world – or at least to the Gage Dyers of the world – as if absolutely, positively not a thing was wrong.
“Purse!” she said with a forced laugh, snagging it out from underneath the counter, blowing all of the sawdust off the top, and slinging it over her shoulder.
“Ready to go?” she asked again, but this time, oh thank the heavens above, her voice didn’t crack like a thirteen-year-old boy just hitting puberty.
“Sure,” Gage said, but his normally easy-going personality seemed to be missing. For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed awkward around her.
It was bright outside, the mid-May sunshine bouncing off every window and car on the street.
“I’m assuming it’s faster to just walk?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she peered down the street towards the waving statue.
“Absolutely, and again, you’re publicly supporting a local business – walking there means that everyone can see you going there to eat. That sort of thing is insanely important around here.”
“Right.” They took off down the street, Cady clutching her purse as they walked. Not that she thought anyone was going to jump out and try to nab it from her – even if there was a rash of purse thievery in Sawyer, no one would be stupid enough to try it with Gage by her side – but rather because she was clutching the purse to her side, she then had something to do with her hands.
Something that didn’t involve reaching over and threading her fingers through Gage’s.
You are being an idiot. Like, a world-class dumbass. You know you can’t date someone. You know what happens when a guy tries to kiss you.
One date. She’d gone on one date since the near-rape, and only because her mom had been moaning and groaning about how her daughter never got out anymore, and how was she going to have any grandkids to love on at this rate?
You never did get your grandkids, Mom. Just one more way that I failed you.
But that one date was enough for Cady. When Tom had leaned forward to plant what was probably a perfectly innocent, close-mouthed goodnight kiss on her lips, she’d slapped him across the face, kneed him in the balls, and then had run into the house, dead-bolting the door behind her.
Needless to say, Tom hadn’t called to ask for a second date.
The painfully quiet walk finally reached its conclusion when they got to the front door of Betty’s, the giant statue casting a shadow over them as they walked inside.
Cady immediately felt at home. There was the same homey, warm vibe here as there was at the Muffin Man, and Cady knew that more than shopping in a public sort of way, she needed to recreate this feeling in the Smoothie Queen if she was going to make it in this town.
“Hey, Gage!” A lady with short cropped platinum blonde hair waved across the restaurant at them. “Pick a booth – I’ll be right over.”
Cady looked Gage straight in the face – the first time since she’d stupidly done it back in the bathroom at the store – as she grinned up at him. “Eat here much?” she asked dryly as he led the way to one of the booths lining the front of the diner.
He shrugged, unrepentant. “This is Sawyer,” he reminded her. “Whether I ate here daily or only once a month, I’d still know everyone. Chloe is a transplant to the area, but she’s been here long enough, most of us have forgiven her for being a big city girl.”
“How long will it take for people to forget that I’m a transplant here, too?” Cady asked, gnawing on her bottom lip with worry. She hadn’t thought about that nearly as much as she probably should have; an oversight she was only realizing she’d made because she was finally starting to get to know this town.
And outsiders were definitely not the norm.
“Fifteen years?” Gage guessed. Cady gasped in horror. “If you’re lucky,” he added.
She glared at him. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you.” It was a statement, not a question, but before he could affirm or deny, the waitress came bustling over.
“Hey, Gage!” she said, pushing her hand through her short blonde hair, the shiny straight hair falling back into a perfect line to her shoulder, even after she ran her fingers through it.
Cady tried not to drool with envy. She had naturally curly hair that simply wasn’t something she could run her fingers through – at least not without using a pick and a whole bottle of detangler beforehand – and so naturally, she was green with envy over every woman who had straight hair.
I bet her hair never creates a halo of frizz around her head when it rains.
She heaved a sigh.
“I haven’t met you yet,” Chloe said, turning to Cady with a large, friendly smile. “I’m Chloe, and you are…”
Cady held out her hand and they shook. “Cady Walcott. I bought the store next door to the Muffin Man.”
“Oh!” Chloe’s face lit up. “I’ve been watching the progress on that old place. I can’t believe everything you’ve managed to do to it so far. Just fixing that broken awning was a huge step forward. It looks a thousand times better now that you’ve scrubbed the smoke damage off the walls, too.”
Cady smiled, trying to hide her surprise. Was Chloe pressing her face up against the window and inspecting the interior? She knew small town residents tended to stick their noses in wherever they wanted, but surely peering inside of an unopened building was odd, right?
Before Cady could ask any questions – before she could think of any question to ask – Gage broke out with, “Now lookie here – who’s an expecting mama!”
Chloe’s face broke out in a huge grin. “You sure are observant,” she said, turning sideways and running her hand over the small bump with pride. Cady gulped. Gage was damn brave to mention it. Sure, Chloe was fairly petite and it looked like a pregnancy bump to the untrained eye, but it could’ve been an eating-too-many-donuts bump too. “Dawson is over the moon. He’s already counted out how many days until we can go in and find out if it’s a girl or a boy. He says he’d be fine with either, but honestly, I think he wants a little girl he can spoil rotten. Of course, Tommy wants a younger brother. I’ve tried to tell him that we don’t have a choice in the matter, but he’s started adding it to his prayers every night, sure that he can talk God into giving him a brother instead of an icky sister.”
Gage rumbled with laughter. “You two have your hands full with that one. Well, I don’t know if you were at Jennifer and Stetson’s baby reveal party, but I baked the cake for it, making the inside blue. I’d be happy to do something similar for you two. No charge. I’m just excited to see you two getting around to adding to the family.”
Chloe smiled then, a contented smile filled with warmth and precious memories that made Cady feel almost like an interloper, eavesdropping on an inner conversation that only Chloe could hear. “Me, too,” she murmured. “So!” She straightened up, putting her back-to-work face on. “Are you two ready to order?”