Beth Andrews - A Not-So-Perfect Past

“So? Doesn’t mean I don’t like having you around.”

He chuckled. “You’ll be fine.” Before he could change his mind, he squeezed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for being a good friend.”

She patted his waist, sniffed and walked away. Dillon tipped his head back and exhaled. Leaving was for the best. He just hoped the next two weeks flew by.

IF ONE MORE PERSON told her how sorry they were for her, she’d shove a stale Danish down their throat.

And it would be even more effective and surprising because it came from sweet, easygoing, good-girl Nina Carlson.

She kicked the table leg. Pain shot up her foot. Ouch. She hobbled over to lean against the counter. See why she never bothered to get angry? All it did was leave her feeling empty and guilty.

And in pain.

She picked up the contractor’s estimate and crumpled it in her fist. No, anger wouldn’t help. It was past time she took control.

Headlights illuminated the kitchen as a truck pulled into the parking lot. Finally.

Nina shoved the wadded paper into her pocket and hurried across the room, ignoring the ache in her toes. She yanked the door open and dashed out into the cold air. “Dillon!”

Getting out of his truck, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at her before closing the driver’s side door.

She crossed her arms and lowered her head against the stinging wind as she jogged across the parking lot. It had stopped snowing but the wicked cold blew through her threadbare Harvard sweatshirt, and snow soaked her sneakers.

Two feet from him, she slipped, her arms windmilling as she started to fall.

“Easy,” he murmured, stepping forward and taking a hold of her upper arms.

She clutched him until she found her balance. At least the embarrassment heating her face eased the tingle of cold in her cheeks.

He scowled at her. “Where’s your coat?”

“Inside.” Her breath came out in bursts of frost. She inhaled and forced herself to meet his eyes. “Dillon, I…I need you.”

He let go of her and stepped back. “I’m flattered.”

She blew on her frozen hands—spring couldn’t come soon enough. “Look, I’ve had a really rotten day and I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have the time or inclination for innuendos right now, okay?”

“My mistake.”

Ack. Did he have to be so…unflappable? Especially when she was always so flustered.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, but there was no curiosity on his face. Merely patience.

“I…are you almost done at The Summit?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I finished up today.”

“That’s great.” Her teeth chattered. “Can…can we go inside? I have fresh coffee.”

He was going to refuse. She could see it on his face. What could she do to change his mind? To persuade him to hear her out? Kelsey would make some wise remark and bait him. Nina’s older sister Blaire used her stunning looks to manipulate men.

Since she didn’t have Kelsey’s nerve or Blaire’s looks, Nina silently prayed.

“I have a few minutes to spare,” he said.

She smiled, relieved, noticing the way his eyes narrowed slightly before she trudged back toward the bakery. But at least he was following her.

Inside, she poured two cups of coffee, took a moment to doctor hers with a heavy dollop of cream and preceded him into the dining area. A chill racked her and she wrapped her fingers around her warm mug.

He sat and nodded toward the plywood covering the hole in the exterior wall. “Looks like you have things under control here.”

She choked on her coffee. Coughed so hard, her eyes watered. Once her vision cleared, she studied him. The man had the emotionless thing down pat.

“I wouldn’t say things are under control.” She rapped a staccato beat on her cup with her fingernails before setting it on an empty table. “As a matter of fact, I don’t have anything under control.”

“That so?”

“My father asked Jim Arturo, you know, from Arturo and Sons Builders?” He inclined his head. She took that as a yes. “Anyway, Dad asked Jim to meet us here earlier today.” She took out the paper, smoothed it out and handed it to Dillon. “Jim gave me this.”

He glanced at it as he sipped his coffee. “Pretty sizable estimate.”

“That’s not the problem. The problem is, he can’t start working here for at least two months. Two months. Do you know how long that is?”

“Eight weeks? Give or take a day or two.”

She gave him the look she used on her kids to warn them they were two seconds away from being banished to their rooms. Dillon didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Figures.

She began to pace. “There’s no way I can afford to lose two months’ worth of business, especially during the holidays. Besides losing local sales, I’ll be missing out on a huge chunk of revenue generated by tourists—”

“Kitchen’s still functional.”

She stopped so quickly, her ponytail hit her cheek. “But I don’t have a place to display what I’ve baked. Plus, without any place to sit and eat, I’ll lose the breakfast and lunch crowds, not to mention foot traffic from people out shopping. Even if I put up a sign that says we’re still open, how many people are going to notice in all this mess?”

He set the estimate on the table. “Yeah. That’s tough.”

“Tough?” Her voice rose. “I’ve worked my butt off trying to make this business a success. I have daily specials planned for the entire month. I’ve even booked a few holiday parties plus a girl’s eighth birthday party where the kids can eat lunch, play games and bake and decorate their own cookies.” Her breathing grew ragged, and spots formed before her eyes. “Where am I supposed to do all of that? In the kitchen?”

Nina tried to catch her breath, to get herself under control again. She’d blown it. She’d overreacted, just like Trey always said she did. Lost her temper when she knew better. She rubbed her cheek. If she raised her voice to Trey and his oh-so-reasonable tone didn’t get her to calm down, his stinging slaps did.

“What does any of that have to do with me?” Dillon asked, seemingly unaffected by her outburst.

She frowned. That was it? The man really was an enigma.

“You said you were finished at The Summit and I was hoping…” She swallowed, then rushed on so fast her words slurred together. “I want to hire you to do the renovations.”

She held her breath until the silence stretched out so long, she grew dizzy and had to exhale.

Finally Dillon stood and asked, “What makes you think I don’t have other jobs lined up?”

She rubbed the base of her bare ring finger. “I heard no one will hire you after the murder investigation.”

After a second of stunned silence, he asked, “You always believe everything you hear? Because if I did, I’d believe you were emotionally crushed when your ex-husband left you. And that if he ever returned, you’d take him back in a flash.” He waited a beat. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

She remembered being the top subject of the rumor mill. But instead of letting her humiliation overcome her, she made a show of looking him up and down. “What are you, a secret member of the Red Hat Society? I thought only old women gossiped.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe you can hold your own after all.”

“I can,” she lied. “But just because you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, doesn’t mean there isn’t some truth in rumors, either.”

She’d rather use margarine and artificial sweetener in her recipes than go back to Trey, but she had been crushed when he’d left her for another woman. Oh, not her heart—that had just been bruised—but her ego. Her pride.