Christie Ridgway - Can't Fight This Feeling

A hysterical giggle tried to climb up her throat. She thought of what she and Brett had done. What Glory had said.

Once you get more acquainted with people, who knows what might come up?

A little one-on-one with Brett Walker was probably not what her friend had in mind.

CHAPTER FOUR

NURSING HER BEER, Glory Hallett kept her attention on her glass and her back to the rest of the crowd at Mr. Frank’s. Angelica had just left after returning from the ladies’ room, looking wide-eyed and unsettled, as if a ghost had goosed her in the back hall.

Her father was a bastard for taking his daughter’s money—not just her trust fund, but money that she had earned and invested from her modeling days—and for putting her into this position. Glory might have her beefs with her own dad, but he wasn’t a criminal. She peeked over her shoulder to see him in a far corner at a table with his cronies. Even though he was an exemplary citizen, she didn’t want to engage with him tonight. A girl should get to enjoy a beer without having her pops come over to talk shop, which was exactly what he’d do if he spotted her.

Maybe she, like Angelica, should head for home. Another ladies’ night at Mr. Frank’s felt suddenly flat. If she hung around much longer, surely Hank Hallett would notice her presence and come out of his very tenuous retirement to decide it was time to once again intrude on the course the business’s new management had set.

“This seat taken?” a deep voice asked.

“No,” she answered, not distracted from the morose turn of her thoughts. Sighing, she decided leaving was the best option she had. She could spend the rest of the evening debating whether to join an online dating service—not for the first time—knowing from the outset nothing would come of registering even if she did. She already knew every eligible man living in the local mountain resort communities. Outside the area...well, given that she’d never be leaving it because of her ties to the store, finding a man with a life down the hill would be a big waste of time and only bring the potential for heartbreak.

“Great,” the newcomer answered.

His low-toned voice niggled at her, and her gaze flicked to the right. When she saw a rangy body climb onto the stool, she took a longer look. Her heart jumped in her chest. “Oh. You.”

His eyes cut to her. They were dark, to match his dark, shaggy hair. She refused to wiggle on her seat, despite the fact it seemed he was having trouble placing her. Embarrassing! She remembered his face.

His glance dropped down to her chest. She wore a button-up Henley over a tank top and, yes, she was revealing a bit of cleavage. After working in a hardware store sixty hours a week, on occasion she did like to remind people she was a woman. But maybe she should feel a little insulted by his ogling.

His eyes lifted to hers. “You’re...Glory. I remember your name’s written on the apron you wear at work.”

Yay! All was forgiven! She smiled at him. “Hello, stranger.” Holding out her hand, she introduced herself. “Glory Hallett, of Hallett Hardware.”

His handshake was manly and brief. “Kyle Scott, of...”

She mentally cursed herself for her introduction. Did it sound like bragging? When he’d come in for some Spackle, rollers and paintbrushes, he’d been wearing threadbare jeans with a T-shirt that was probably as old as he was. It wasn’t easy making a living in the mountains. With housing and groceries and gas at resort prices, those who did certain jobs—say house painting or general handyman tasks—didn’t have an easy time of it. But she came from mountain pioneer stock and knew well that all work was honorable.

“Kyle Scott of Evergreen and Piano Keys,” she finished for him, naming two popular paint colors.

He blinked, clearly astonished.

Glory grinned at him. “I work in a hardware store. We sell cans of that stuff. I recognized those splashes on your clothes.”

He looked chagrined. “I have to admit I bought that paint over at Murphy’s,” he said, mentioning one of their competitors in the bigger town on the north side of the mountain. “I didn’t know about Hallett’s at the time.”

“Well, now you do.”

He smiled, slow. “Now I do.”

Glory swallowed the last of her beer. Then she signaled to the bartender, Murray. “Can I buy you a beer?” she asked the new guy, signaling for two without waiting for his answer.

At his silence, she glanced over, hoping she hadn’t stepped on his ego. “It’s ladies’ night,” she said. “I get a break on the price.”

“Oh. Well, then.” A strange expression crossed his face. “I appreciate it.”

Upon arrival of their drinks, she tapped her full glass to his. “What should we drink to?”

“New friends?” he suggested.

Warmth curled like a kitten in her belly. “You in these parts for a while, stranger?” It was just a beer, she reminded herself. No need to get worked up about his permanent address.

“Kyle,” he repeated. “I hope to be here for some time, yes. We’ll see how it goes.”

He hoped to be here for some time! It was good, though, that he appeared to understand that earning enough to pay mountain prices wouldn’t be easy. “I can put your name and number in our files,” she offered. “And we have a bulletin board near the front of the store where you can post a flyer. Customers often ask if we know of workers who do general home maintenance. That’s your gig, right?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sure.” She shrugged, pretending it was a casual proposal. Something she’d do for anyone she happened upon in Mr. Frank’s. But the truth was, she had a sudden stake in his ability to make a mountain living. There was something about the man and his dark, intense eyes that caused her heart to race. Her whole body felt as if it was coming alive.

If he could afford to stay in the area...

She slid another quick look at his handsome face. There was a sudden change in the air, too. A first-day-of-school feeling. A first-day-of-the-rest-of-your-life feeling that sensitized the surface of her skin and made the oxygen she sucked in seem even thinner than normal.

No way was she going to ignore it.

Turning toward the new guy, she placed her elbow on the bar. “So...tell me about yourself. You really want to put down roots in the mountains?”

His gaze shifted from her to his beer and he hesitated.

Too long. Mortified heat crawled up her neck. “Um, sorry,” she mumbled, and turned back to her own drink. “I’ll shut up now and let you enjoy your evening in peace.” Stupid , she thought. Stupid, stupid. He was probably married or gay or simply not interested in her in any way. Just because she’d been instantly attracted...

She remembered the day he’d walked into the store. The bell over the door had rung with its usual cheery sound, and she’d looked up from dusting the boxes of wooden matches that her dad insisted they stock but nobody ever put in their basket. The stranger had looked a little lost and a lot hot and she’d smiled to herself as she approached and asked if he needed help. There was something about a man and any kind of shopping task—even when it was hardware stuff. They always roamed the floor with an air of bafflement, as if the entire process confounded them.

Whether a woman was browsing or knew exactly what she wanted, she walked through a store with the confidence of a general on a battlefield.

He’d asked to be pointed toward the painting supplies and then he’d strolled off in the direction she’d indicated, leaving her to admire the set of his shoulders and those long legs. But she’d dismissed him from her mind immediately after he’d made his purchases, however. Because mooning over a visitor wasn’t a practical thing to do.