Jill Limber - Captivating A Cowboy

Unable to help himself, Tony stepped closer, hoping his carnal thoughts didn’t show on his face. “Excuse me, miss. Maybe I could help.”

Julie turned to glance at the great-looking man she had noticed lurking by a display of big metal wheels with wicked teeth. Boy, they sure didn’t grow them like this in Los Angeles. From the top of his cowboy hat to the tips of his leather boots, he was one tall gorgeous hunk of man.

She flashed him her best smile. “Could help me with what?” she asked, wondering exactly what he meant.

She liked the way he squirmed just a little as she studied him. Shy, perhaps. Handsome as he was, he didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who would be bashful around women. She also liked the muscles that showed through the close fit of his white T-shirt. Brawn like his was the result of hard outdoor work and not a gym.

He took off his hat and ran a big square hand through his cropped dark chocolate-brown hair, then gestured to the box the middle-aged clerk struggled to repackage. “The sander, ma’am.”

The cowboy was blushing. She swallowed a smile. Was it possible he was just being neighborly and not flirting?

She hoped not.

She was going to be in Ferndale all summer, and had no friends here. No one she knew from Los Angeles was likely to come for a visit. She’d been dreading being stuck in this small town for three long months.

Quaint Victorian Ferndale hadn’t changed any since she’d left almost ten years ago to go to college. Now that she’d used her credit card, within hours everyone in town would know she was back in Northern California. Give her a big city any day. There was no such thing as privacy in a small town.

She winked at him. “Thanks, cowboy, but I think I can manage.”

At least she could learn. With her budget and time limit, she had to become adept quickly to finish all the things that needed doing to her grandmother’s house.

Her house now.

She wanted get the place fixed up and put it on the market. She had to get back to L.A. before the school year started.

He tapped his forefinger on the box. “Do you have any experience with power tools?”

The cowboy had a polite earnestness about him she found appealing. The men she knew were so into their own image and being cool they would never show the kind of interest she saw on his handsome face.

She shrugged, amused that he would assume she couldn’t manage by herself because she was a woman. She was smart and could figure out how to do what needed to be done.

Julie glanced around at the men who had gathered to listen openly to their conversation, then gave them a smile.

“How hard can it be? You all know how to use them, don’t you?” she asked sweetly, then picked up the box and sauntered out onto Main Street.

Every pair of eyes watched her leave. As she disappeared from sight, Tony swore he heard a collective male sigh from inside the store.

Tony turned to Cliff. “Who is she?”

Cliff scratched his bald head, still staring at the now empty door. “Dunno.”

Tony reached over and pulled the credit slip out of Cliff’s fingers.

“Julie Kerns.” He read aloud.

“That was little Julie Kerns?” Mr. Dunn peered around Tony trying to see the slip of paper.

Tony turned to stare at the old man. “You know her?”

Mr. Dunn nodded. “She used to live here. Moved in with her grandma when she was a little girl after her folks died.”

“Where does her grandmother live?”

“Doesn’t. Her grandma was Bessie Morgan. Died about two months ago.”

Tony thought for a minute. The name was vaguely familiar. “The blue-and-white Queen Anne style house with the vines over by the church?”

Mr. Dunn nodded. “Yup. Heard Julie got the house. Must be moving in.”

Tony stored that bit of information away and left the store whistling.

He’d find a reason to go and pay the little lady a call and remind her how neighborly Ferndale could be.

Tony stood on the sidewalk in the hot noon sun and shifted the ladder on his shoulder to a more comfortable position. He contemplated the cottage belonging to the very enticing Julie Kerns.

Two things came to mind.

First, the house was a marvel of workmanship, with all the trim and special touches that went into a Queen Anne. Not as fussy as most Victorians, he’d always liked the design.

Second, the place needed a heck of a lot of work.

For starters, the top two wooden steps to the porch were rotten. He glanced up and noted the rain gutter had rusted through in several places. That explained the rot.

He leaned the new ladder she’d ordered against the side of his truck and hefted the five gallon cans of plastering compound and primer.

Skirting the rotten wood, he climbed the stairs and set the cans beside the front door. The doorbell, a round crank set in the wall, rang loud enough to be heard in the next block.

Within moments, he saw her through the beveled glass window set in the middle of the door. She wore baggy old jeans and a big shirt. He missed yesterday’s outfit.

Julie opened the door and raised an eyebrow. “Hello, cowboy.”

He grinned at her and tipped his hat. “Afternoon, Miss Kerns.” He’d forgotten how pretty she was.

“Please, it’s Julie.” She didn’t seem surprised that he knew her name.

“I’m Tony. Tony Graham.”

She gave him that great smile of hers, then glanced down and spotted the cans. “Do you work at the hardware store?”

“No, ma’am. Just doing Cliff a favor. His wife took the truck to Redding to do some shopping.”

Tony hoisted the cans and she stood aside so he could enter. “Where do you want these?”

“Upstairs. But you can leave them right there.”

“I’ll take them up for you. Lead the way.”

He enjoyed the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs ahead of him.

She turned into one of the front bedrooms. He set the cans inside the door. She’d been busy. All the furniture had been pushed into the middle of the room and covered with a tarp.

Tony gave a low whistle when he looked up and saw the water damage to the ceiling and walls. Big chunks of plaster were missing. “Roof?”

She nodded. “Yes. Bessie hated to spend money and waited until the leak got really bad before she had it repaired.”

He nodded. Lots of people put off work, then ended up paying more. He didn’t understand their logic.

Dubious that a novice had a chance of doing a decent plaster job, Tony wandered over to a damaged wall and turned to eye the book she held. “You ever do any plaster repair?”

“Not yet.” She slapped the book she was holding closed and set it on top of the tarp, then put her hands on her hips.

She sure did look determined.

She studied him for so long he wanted to squirm. Then she squared her shoulder as if she had made a decision and asked, “Have you had lunch?”

It took him a moment to react. He didn’t expect the question. “No. I was just about to take a break.” His lunch was in his truck.

“Good. Have lunch with me.”

Tony was both surprised and pleased at her invitation. He had been trying to decide how to ask her out. Now they could get acquainted over a sandwich at the kitchen table.

“Sure. That would be great.”

“I have to warn you, I have an ulterior motive.”

Tony raised an eyebrow as a quick fantasy shot through his mind.

She tapped her book with a slender forefinger. “I want to pick your brain about plastering techniques.”

Oh, well, he thought, feeling a little deflated, at least she wanted to have lunch with him.

He followed her downstairs and instead of turning toward the back of the house where he assumed the kitchen would be, she went out the front door.