Brad’s gaze landed on her nails. He stared. And stared.

“Coral.”

Callie’s comment visibly jarred him.

“The polish.” She wiggled her fingers. “You like it?”

With a blank stare, he said, “As you can see, we serve coffee and donuts here, so if you skip going to the bakery, you might actually get here on time.”

Her happy day paled a bit.

“Is it the nail polish? Admittedly not a great color for me.”

He said nothing.

“I’ll skip my trip to the bakery in the morning,” Callie said.

“So, you’ll be here by eight-thirty tomorrow morning, right?” Noticeable edge to his voice there.

“Right.”

“Good.” He then explained the program to her, but she didn’t hear a word of it. She couldn’t image how this rude, arrogant man was the same suave, debonair man she’d met at the bakery that morning. She couldn’t believe she’d given up a perfectly good peach scone for this guy. It wouldn’t happen again.

DIANN HUNT

Bestselling author Diann Hunt writes romantic comedy and humorous women’s fiction. She admits to seeing the world from a slightly different angle than most, and she will do just about anything (within reason) for chocolate. Since 2001, she has published three novellas and fifteen novels, including a Women of Faith novel.

Diann lives in Indiana with her real-life hero-husband of 33 years who continually lavishes her with chocolate—well, she can imagine it, can’t she? She’s a fiction writer, after all.

Hometown Courtship
Diann Hunt

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

and lean not on your own understanding;

in all your ways acknowledge him,

and he will make your paths straight.

—Proverbs 3:5–6

Dedicated to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,

who continually guides my steps.

Special thanks to my editor, Tina Colombo, for her hard work and for joining me with this project! I am blessed to be a part of the Love Inspired team!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

The strike of the judge’s gavel reverberated through the room, announcing to the entire town of Burrow, Ohio, that she, Callie Easton, had committed a crime. She could almost see the stern glares of the city’s forefathers.

Who knew that lost parking tickets could cause such a problem?

Heather Rinker, Callie’s good friend and attorney, leaned toward her. “You okay?”

“I’ve just been ordered to do community service, Heather. Would you be okay?”

“No, but then I don’t lose things.” She gathered her copious papers into tidy little stacks and placed them in her folder.

“It’s the handbag. I wouldn’t be in this mess if not for the handbag.” Callie hiccupped. Her usual reaction to life’s crises.

Heather turned to her. “What?”

“It was on sale. I love the smell of leather—did I ever tell you that?—and this leather bag looked so cute. It was the right price, and—”

Heather sighed and tucked her file carefully into her portfolio. “Callie—”

“—it has a million pockets, Heather. Pockets, where things are stored, never to be found again.” Callie slumped further into her chair, trying to swallow past the shame that had settled rock solid in her throat. “What am I going to do? Aunt Bonnie needs me.”

“Look, Cal—”

“Do you think if I told the judge that spring is one of the busiest seasons of the year for our salon that he would pick another time? I mean, since I’m not a big-city crime boss and all.” She bit her lower lip. “This is an awful time to desert Aunt Bonnie.” Callie rubbed her aching temples. “Why don’t they just fine me or something?”

“This is how it’s done in Burrow, Callie.” A flicker of sympathy lit Heather’s eyes. A rare occurrence, indeed.

“Any chance you could ask him to reconsider?” Callie asked.

“You’re kidding, right?” Heather picked up her leather briefcase and started to briskly walk toward the door. To others, her five-foot-two frame may have looked dainty in her smart beige suit and fashionable heels, but Callie knew that inside that petite body lurked the strength of a five-hundred-pound prison matron. She was sheer grit and discipline, that one. How the two of them could be such great friends was a mystery to everyone who knew and loved them.

A new set of witnesses and onlookers shuffled inside the court, tingeing the air with the scent of stale tobacco and sweet perfumes.

Putting all self-respect behind her, Callie slung her handbag over her shoulder, hauled her five-foot-seven self after Heather, practically jogging to keep up, and said—between great heaving breaths—“No, I’m not kidding.”

Heather stopped dead center in front of Callie and point-blank stared her in the face. Her friend’s eyes turned positively beady.

“It’s the price you pay for losing your parking tickets.”

Heather turned and headed into the hallway. Callie continued her jog to keep up. “That was harsh, Heather. Even for you.” Three gum wrappers slipped from an outside pocket of Callie’s handbag and drifted to the floor. She picked them up, stuffed them into the nearest hole in her bag and shifted the strap on her shoulder.

“It’s what I’ve been telling you, Cal. You have to get organized. You can’t afford to lose important documents.”

Pockets. She had to stay away from pockets and nasty little corners where important papers could hide. She’d better dump out her handbag when she got home and take a look. Who knew what else lurked there.

“Aunt Bonnie, Heather. You know she needs me—especially during prom season. You know how you love her peach scones? She’d make you some if—”

Heather stopped, horror on her face. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Well, no, I don’t think so. I just thought—”

“Well, don’t think. Just do your duty as a good citizen—”

“Please don’t make me do this over a couple of old parking tickets.” Callie suddenly realized she had been reduced to groveling. Could life get any worse?

“Seven old parking tickets.”

“There it is. The ugly truth in all its glory.” Callie sighed.

Heather placed a hand on Callie’s shoulder. “Look, I know this is tough for you and you’re worried about the salon, but it will be over soon and you can get back to business. Hopefully, you’ll learn how to get a bit more organized in the process.”

“So, I really have to build a house?”

Heather chuckled. “Well, not single-handedly.”

Callie could practically smell the sawdust, and for a moment, she was ten years old, staring up at her dad. He took off his tool belt and hard hat and laid them on the kitchen table. Pulling her into his arms, he said, “I’ll always love you, Beanie.” He brushed away a tear from his face, gave her one last squeeze and walked out the door. Callie flung herself at him, crying, grabbing at the door to get to him while her aunt and uncle held her back, embracing her until she’d shed every last tear.

“Hey, you all right?”

Callie’s eyes refocused on Heather’s concerned expression. Now was not the time to revisit her father’s leaving after her mom died—she had to get out of this situation. “Will I have to wear a tool belt? Please say no. I just couldn’t live with myself.”

Heather stared at her a little too long and finally said, “You make me crazy, you know that? I gotta go.” Her heels clacked across the shiny tiled floor as she went to the courthouse doors.

“What if I toss the handbag?” It was a last-ditch effort that Heather ignored as she disappeared through the door, but Callie figured it couldn’t hurt to try.

She hated letting her aunt down this way. Thirty years old and still irresponsible. And building a house was exactly what she didn’t need. Old memories were better left buried.

“It’s your fault,” she growled at the handbag. Shrugging it into place on her shoulder, Callie shoved through the courthouse doors and swept down the steps toward her car. She could think of better ways to start the weekend.

“This car belong to you?” Another man in a blue uniform. Were they stalking her or what?

Callie stopped in front of her car, and with one glance at the empty meter, considered telling a fib. Her up-bringing wouldn’t allow it. “Yes.”

He ripped a ticket from his thick, neat little pad. “Looks like this belongs to you, too.” He smiled, tipped his hat and walked away.

If she could put her parking tickets in an organized pad like that, she wouldn’t even be at the courthouse. Grumbling, she climbed inside her car, then crammed her ticket deep into her handbag. She’d deal with that later.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again.” Brad Sharp walked off the concrete foundation, away from listening ears. He growled into the phone, “Listen, Ryan, you remember what a disaster the last community servant was for the Make a Home project? She went through every nail in the county before we could finish the framing. And then there was the other one. She was a honey. Decided to hijack the Bobcat and splintered our framing wood into a thousand pieces.” His voice rose with anger. “I can’t afford your community servants, bro.”

Ryan wasn’t ruffled in the least. “So we’ve had a few clunkers. It’s a worthy cause. And you’re into worthy causes, after all.”

Brad could hear the teasing in Ryan’s voice and it irritated him. “Isn’t this called abusing your position of power?” His work boots stomped over mounds of clumped dirt on the job site. Nails jostled in his tool belt. Behind him men unloaded lumber from the truck to prepare for framing. Workers called out to one another. Saws whirred, spitting flakes of dust into the spring air. He had a job to do and didn’t have time for this.

“I don’t see it that way. Callie Easton needs to serve the community, and you are heading up a community project, building a brand new house for a Burrow family.” Pages turned. No doubt Ryan was scanning his next case while talking. “Besides, this is a win-win situation.”

“Oh, sure. Dump a perp on me and you can strike your gavel without another thought. What did she do, anyway?”

“She didn’t pay her parking tickets.”

Brad stopped in his tracks. “You’re kidding.”

“Would I kid about the law?”

“And I’ll bet she’s single and in her early thirties, am I right?”

Silence.

Brad groaned. “Come on, Ryan. This isn’t about justice. This is about you wanting me to settle down. Why is it you married men aren’t happy unless you take all your single buddies down with you?”

“Hey, marriage is a great institution. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“Look, I’m glad for you and Brianna, but it’s not for me. You know that. I don’t need a wife to tie me down.”

“Au contraire, little brother. I think that’s exactly what you need. Find a good woman, settle down in Burrow.”

“Don’t start, Ryan. I’m not like you. I don’t want to stay here forever. A woman won’t change that.”

It was true that Ryan was a big-name judge and Brad was merely a carpenter, but that didn’t give Ryan the right to plan out Brad’s life for him. The last thing he would ever do was get involved with a woman his brother had chosen for him.

“Why are you always so closed to everything I say?”

“You never hear me. I’ve told you a million times I want to keep working abroad, not stay holed up in Burrow, Ohio. I’m only here until I get my next assignment in South America.”

“I can think of worse things.” Ryan’s voice had an edge to it this time.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s just a bad thing for me. I’m wired differently than you. Why can’t you accept that?”

Ryan sighed. “I’m sorry I upset you, Brad. We’ll talk later. Callie starts Monday.”

The line went dead and Brad snapped his cell phone shut. “Great, that’s just great.”

He knew his brother meant well, but Brad wished that just once Ryan would let him run his own life.

Monday morning came much too soon. Callie was thankful at least that Jessica Moore had agreed to work full-time at the salon until Callie was through “serving time.” Jessica was the other stylist at the salon. As a rule, Jessica worked part-time so she could take some classes and care for her mom, who had been through a major surgery. But her mom was getting better and her classes were coming to an end, so Jessica offered to help Callie out.

Thunder boomed across the morning sky, causing Callie’s red VW to tremble slightly. She peered through her rain-pelted car window. “Oh, this is just perfect.”

With a grunt she reached for her red-and-white polka-dotted umbrella, slammed the door of her car and ran into the Peaches & Cream Bakery.

Though she was running late, of course, she wasn’t about to give up her coffee and peach scone. It had nothing to do with her aunt and uncle owning the place. The bakery was known across the county for its delicious peach pastries—hence, the name. It could be a bit confusing to tourists—they owned the Peaches & Cream Bakery, the Peaches & Cream Salon and the Peaches & Cream Ice Cream Parlor.

Stopping for coffee and a peach scone was a breakfast routine that Callie couldn’t do without. Closing her umbrella, she shook off the excess droplets and headed for the counter. Where had she gone wrong this morning? When the alarm had gone off, she had gotten up right away—well, she’d only hit Snooze twice.

The tune of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” came from her cell phone. She rifled through her bag. If only she could remember to stick her phone in that special compartment in her handbag, the one specifically for cell phones. After she removed the straw papers and gum wrappers, of course.

“Hello?”

“My pretrial hearing got cancelled, so if you want to meet for lunch today, I can do it,” Heather said.

Shifting her keys to her phone hand, Callie’s free fingers searched her jacket pocket for money. “I’m a community servant today, remember? I’ll probably get bologna and water.”

Heather laughed. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot.”

“Great. I’m serving time and my attorney forgot. Maybe if my attorney had been a little more—”

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you. It’s never a good idea to make your attorney mad.”

Speaking of making her attorney mad, Callie hadn’t told Heather about the new parking ticket. No point in starting her week off on the wrong foot. Besides, she’d pay this ticket on time. It was right in her handbag. Somewhere.

“Point taken. Listen, I’ve got to go or I’ll be late. Call you tonight.” While Callie stuffed her cell phone back into her handbag, her keys slipped from her fingers and crashed against the tile floor. Just as she reached down to pick them up, her hand fell upon another, much larger, stronger hand.

“Oh,” she said in surprise. Straightening, she looked up, up, up, until she stared into eyes so inviting that she wanted to RSVP on the spot. “I’m so clumsy.”

Tall, Dark and Handsome leaned closer, and she caught a whiff of citrus and peppermint.

“It happens to me all the time.” He smiled, shifted on his leg and tucked his thumb into a belt loop on his jeans.

Something about the way this man’s dark hair was combed told her nary a stray would be tolerated. He was precise. She liked that in a man.

Just beyond him she could see the rain had quieted to a soft pattering against the windowpanes. The thunder murmured a romantic chant. Her insides whirled like a gentle breeze. If he lifted her on a white horse, she was so going with him.

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

The sincerity in his face and the compassion in his eyes caused her to hiccup. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she mumbled an apology.

A quirky smile lit up his face, giving him an impish look. “You’d better get some peanut butter for that.”

She nodded and whipped around. Hiccupping was a family curse from her mother’s side. Staccato hiccups punctuated almost every embarrassing moment. And nothing—not peanut butter or sugar or holding her breath—cured them.

He tapped her shoulder and she turned back around. “You might want these.” The keys dangled between his fingers.

The brush of his hand caused her pulse to stumble. Her mind drifted to a summer’s day in a park. She was wearing flowers in her hair and a long, flowing dress. He was pushing her on a swing. They were laughing together—

“What can I get you today?”

The nasally voice of the barista shook her loose from her dreaming. She wanted to thwack him. “I’ll take a mocha latte and a—” she started to order her usual peach scone but quickly changed her mind “—fat-free blueberry muffin, please.”

Boring, no-taste muffin in hand, Callie edged over to wait on her coffee, feeling quite proud of her self-control. Hopefully, Tall, Dark and Handsome had noticed. Unfortunately, when she turned around, her knight in shining armor was gone.

Maybe she’d exchange her muffin.

Chapter Two

Brad cranked up the engine of his old work truck. “You’d better get a grip on things, Brad, old boy, or Ryan will get his way.”

Tail wagging, tongue hanging, Hammer, his yellow Lab, pranced across the seat. Brad scratched the top of the hound’s head.

“She was a looker, Hammer.” Brad thought about how soft her golden hair looked against the nape of her slender neck, how the lights of the coffeehouse danced in her blue eyes. Yet there was something in those baby blues—something sobering. Oh, he was reading too much into it.

“Yes, sir, she sure improved my morning.” The gears groaned and squeaked as Brad shifted them into place and pulled into traffic. Too bad he hadn’t gotten her number, but he’d hardly earned the privilege in that length of time. Besides, he didn’t want to get serious with anyone. Though a couple of dates might have been nice.

Hammer nudged Brad’s arm.

“We’ll be there in a minute.” Brad laughed. “It’s gonna be muddy today, though. Probably not a good idea to bring you to the work site.”

The dog cocked his head sideways and let out a whine. Sometimes Brad wondered if Hammer really could understand him.

“And to think I went back so I could have that strong espresso.” He sighed. “If only there’d been enough time. But I can’t be late for work, Hammer.”

Even when it means walking away from a beautiful woman.

Flying high from her chance encounter at the bakery, Callie practically waltzed onto the job site with her coffee and muffin in hand. She didn’t care that it was raining and her hair had gone flat. Let the lightning flash and the thunder rumble. The misty air rejuvenated her. In fact, she didn’t even care that she was holding a fat-free muffin. She took a deep breath. Nothing like a spring rain to make her spirit soar. Absolutely nothing could ruin this day—not even the smell of lumber, which personified her dad and magnified the ache he’d left behind.

When she stepped up to the circle of people, she noticed a man standing in the middle, his back to her, talking. A Lab sat on his haunches as though listening intently to the man. It tickled Callie to watch the dog. Maybe he was a service dog who actually helped build houses. She stifled a giggle, nibbled on her muffin and took a sip from her coffee cup. He led them into a simple prayer for the day, then dismissed them for coffee and donuts. She’d remember that tomorrow—though she didn’t want to miss another opportunity of possibly running into the hunky guy at the bakery. Maybe Aunt Bonnie could tell her if he was a regular customer. On the other hand, she didn’t want to encourage her aunt’s matchmaking schemes.

She went to the obvious crew leader to apologize for arriving late. “I’m sorry I’m—”

The man swiveled around. His dark eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

Her pulse kicked into full throttle, and she decided right then and there this was the best day ever. Obviously, her aunt had been praying extra hard for her today. “Well, hello. Looks like we meet again.” She gave her most pleasant smile to the man from the bakery.

His eyes lit up and a grin that put her heart on hold spread across his face. “Well, hello.”

“Callie Easton reporting for duty.” She stretched out her hand to him.

His heart-stopping grin faltered.

Maybe her aunt should try fasting next time.

He looked at his clipboard, then back at her. “You’re Callie Easton?”

She wasn’t sure whether to smile or apologize. Call her optimistic, but she could think of worse things. “That’s me.”

“Brad Sharp. I’m overseeing this project,” he said, his words suddenly tight and professional. He probably had to be that way in front of the others. Okay, she’d play along.

She wanted to get out a pen and jot down his name, but one look in his eyes told her she would never forget it. All at once she realized her hand was still hanging out there between them, suspended, lonely and cold, while he ignored it completely.

“I see you got your coffee.” His tone told her he hadn’t gotten his.

Thankful she had taken the time to polish her nails, she lifted her cup and smiled. “Yes. Everyone will be happy I got it.” She leaned toward him. “I’m not fun to be around if I haven’t had my morning coffee. Especially on a Monday.” She winked. What had gotten into her? She never winked at a man—well, not one she’d known for only less than an hour anyway. But he had rescued her keys, after all.

His gaze landed on her nails. He stared. And stared. It was as if he were in a trance.

“Coral.”

Her comment visibly jarred him.

“The polish.” She wiggled her fingers. “It’s not a color you hear about much, you being a guy and all.” And what a guy, at that! “You like it?”

With a blank stare he said, “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but as you can see, we serve coffee and donuts here—”

Yes, she had noticed and was ever so grateful.

“—so if you skip your trip to the bakery in the morning, you might actually make it here on time.”

Her happy day paled a bit. “Is it the nail polish?” She studied her fingernails. “Admittedly not a great color for me.”

He said nothing. She suddenly noticed the people around them, the number of which was growing by the second. She looked back up at him to find his gaze drilling into her.

For a moment she wondered if she should give her coffee to him. Some people had been known to snap without it. “I’ll skip my trip to the bakery in the morning,” Callie said. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He no doubt was a busy man, and she didn’t want to take up all his time. At least not yet.

“Wait. I’m not finished.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“So, you’ll be here by eight-thirty tomorrow morning, right?” Noticeable edge to his voice here. Okay, she had to admit his attitude was causing a teensy stir in her stomach, like a simmering pot on the stove.

“Callie?”

Why was he pressing her this way in front of everyone? Wait. Did his foot just tap with impatience? She was pretty sure she saw that. Thoughts of her elementary-school principal, looking down at her over black-framed glasses, came back to her. She’d been in trouble that day, too.

The simmering in her stomach worked up to a full boil. It took a lot to get her riled but when she did—well, someone should warn him.

As the crowd grew, Callie’s heart pounded so hard against her chest she was sure it would break through and beat this man half to death. She’d always heard there was a fine line between love and you’d-better-run.

“Right.” She smiled again, but could feel it falter under the weight of her anger.

“Good.” He then explained the program to her, but she didn’t hear a word of it. She couldn’t imagine how this rude, arrogant, man was the same suave, debonair man she’d met at the bakery.

“You need a hard hat.” He pointed to her gym shoes. “And boots. Hard-toed boots.”

The way he stared at her shoes made her feel as though she had a bad pedicure. She wanted to hide her feet. “No one told me.”

He blew out a sigh. A very manly, husky sigh. She ignored it. No one messed with her toes and got away with it.

“There’s a pair of women’s boots in my truck over there. Best put them on.” He strode away without so much as a backward glance.

She couldn’t believe she’d given up a perfectly tasty peach scone for this jerk. It wouldn’t happen again.

“So how did your morning with the parking ticket dodger go?” Brad’s sister-in-law asked as she placed a bowl of chili in front of him on the table.

“Now, Brianna, let the man alone. He’s no doubt had a hard day on the job,” Ryan teased.

“Yeah, like you ever leave me alone.” Brad had indeed had a hard day. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh at the job site. But people were watching and if he hadn’t used Callie as an example, he’d have total chaos on the job. Though they were volunteers, he still needed people to be punctual and treat the project as a real job or they’d never finish on time or produce a quality home.

Ryan shrugged and sprinkled shredded cheese over his chili. “Yeah, you’re right. So how did it go?”

Across the table, their seventeen-year-old daughter, Olivia, snickered.

“Not you, too,” Brad said.

“Sorry, Uncle Brad.”

“Did you find a job yet, Olive?” Brad was the only one who could get by calling her that.

“Not yet. I’ve tried everywhere. I hope I don’t get stuck babysitting the Graber twins again this year. I’m so ready for a real job.”

“Nice way to change the subject, Brad,” Ryan said. He turned to his daughter. “Honest work is honest work. It pays the bills. And right now you’re saving for college. Which reminds me, did you go to the library and check on those scholarship options yet?”

“Dad, can we talk about this later?”

“We can and we will,” Ryan said in an unmistakably firm tone.

Olivia turned to Brad and smiled. “So, tell us about your day.”

“I’ll get you later,” he hissed at his grinning niece.

Brad explained how he’d run into Callie at the bakery and how she’d turned up late at the job site. When he finished, everyone was quiet. He could feel Ryan studying him.

“What?” Brad tried to appear nonchalant.

Ryan exchanged a glance with Brianna, then turned twinkling eyes to Brad. Judges’ eyes weren’t supposed to twinkle.

“Nothing.” Ryan looked at Brianna once again. “Did I say anything?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” she said.

He turned back to Brad. “Nothing here.”

“Look, Ryan, I’ve told you. I’m not interested in a relationship. I’m waiting for my next missionary assignment in South America. I’m only here because of Mom.”

“I don’t know why when there’s plenty to do here,” Ryan said.

“I don’t question why you want to be a judge.”

“You’re not getting any younger,” Ryan said.

Brad took a bite of the spicy chili in front of him. It was fiery hot but he didn’t let on.

There was no denying that Callie Easton was eye candy, but he’d seen her type before. He couldn’t deal with the nail polish, the hair, the makeup….

“She primps, plucks and pedicures, Ryan.”

“They all do that.”

“Remember, Nicole started out that way, obsessing over her appearance. One thing led to another until—”

“You can’t compare every woman who dabs on nail polish to our sister. She had issues. She was sick, Brad.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, matter dropped,” Ryan said, followed by a moment of silence.

Brad knew he had been hard on Callie, but he didn’t want her around the job site. She was a distraction, and he figured she liked it that way. The sooner they could get through this job, the better.

“You know, little brother, you could use a haircut.”

He goes from one complaint about me to another. Brad’s hand rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not that bad. But my barber retired, so I’ll have to find someone soon.” Brad swirled the chili around in his bowl.

“I go to that place behind the bakery you said you visited this morning. It’s called the Peaches & Cream Salon. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the best place in town. You ought to check it out,” Brianna said.

Brad turned to Ryan. “Do you go there?”

He shook his head. “I go to a shop near the courthouse. But that’s out of your way.”

Brad thought a moment and nodded. “Maybe I’ll do that.” Thankful to talk about anything but his love life, Brad made a mental note to check out the salon.

Callie looked at her client’s cranberry-polished nails. “That’s it, Mrs. Frantz. You’re free to go.”

“Thank you, dear.” The old woman stuffed a ten-dollar tip into Callie’s hand, then hobbled out the door.

“What is she, three hundred years old by now?” Jessica asked, opening a box and examining the contents.

“Jessica, shh—she will hear you.”

“Her?” Jessica asked, pointing. “That woman hasn’t heard anything since 1973. She’s got pretty nails, though, I’ll give her that.”

Callie suppressed a giggle and began to clean her manicure station. “You’d better behave yourself or Aunt Bonnie will get you.”

“Yeah, right. I’ve seen puppies more fierce than her on her worst day.”

Everyone knew Aunt Bonnie was as sweet as they came.

Jessica glanced at her watch. “You sure you can cover for me while I take Mom to the doctor?”

“Absolutely. You go ahead and go.” Callie looked at the box of new inventory. “Hey, didn’t we get another box of the setting gel?”

“Yeah, a small one. It’s in the back room,” Jessica said, without looking up.

“Great. Let me get that before you take off.”

“No problem.”

As Callie walked into the back room, she heard the front door swoosh open. A man’s voice said someone had recommended he come to the salon for a haircut.

“It just so happens there’s a stylist in the back who can help you. Go ahead and take a seat by the wash basin.” Jessica popped into the back room. “You have a customer.” She raised her eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “Too bad I have to leave.”

Callie rolled her eyes and walked past her toward the front. Facing the back of the customer’s head, Callie pulled product from the shelf.

“So, this is your first time here?” she asked, working the shampoo into his hair.

“Uh-huh.” His words vibrated as her fingers massaged his scalp.

He didn’t offer anything else, so Callie let her mind meander while she finished the job. Once she rinsed away the bubbles, she flipped up his chair and towel-dried his hair.

“If you’ll follow me,” she said, leading the way to her cutting station.

He settled into his seat. She swiveled him around to face the mirror. That’s when they saw each other for the first time. Callie’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. By the look of Brad Sharp, she would say he wasn’t doing any better.

“I, uh, my sister-in-law told me to come here. I didn’t know you worked here. My barber retired, I needed a place—”

The way his words tumbled into one another might have been funny if she wasn’t still mad at him for his behavior on the job.

She swung the scissors toward him, opening and closing them a couple of times for good measure. He squirmed in his seat, which satisfied her immensely.

“My aunt and uncle own this place. This is where I work.” Snip, snip, snip. He had nice hair. Really didn’t need much of a cut, but guys like him kept their hair groomed to perfection.

“Listen, about this morning—”

“Yes?” She stopped and stared at him through the mirror. She kept the scissors poised and dangerously close to his ear. Clint Eastwood’s words played in her head. “Go ahead, make my day.”

“I’m sorry if I came across too harsh.”

Well, she hadn’t seen that one coming. Snip, snip, snip. “Don’t worry about it. You did what you had to do.”

She could feel him looking at her and glanced at him through the mirror.

“Thanks.” It was all he said, but the way he said it sent a slow tingle that started at the top of her spine and shimmied all the way down.

“So how did you get into construction?” she asked, warmth spreading through her fingers as they brushed the back of his neck and feathered through his hair.

“I’ve been at it for as long as I can remember. I’ve worked overseas, building homes for the poor.”

She stopped cutting and looked up at him. “Really?” Her toppled knight in shining armor was quickly regaining his position on the white horse.

They discussed the Make a Home project when suddenly a telephone call on his cell phone cut their conversation short. Thankfully, she had finished his hair before he had to go. He paid for his trim and bounded out of the salon as quickly as his legs could carry him.

She couldn’t help wondering what had really brought him to their salon.

Chapter Three

Brianna and Ryan were in this together. Someone was going to pay.

Brad peeled out of the parking lot faster than he had intended. The last thing he wanted was for Callie to witness his little outburst. He was thankful a caller with a wrong number gave him an excuse to leave.

“I don’t believe she did this to me.” One glance at the speedometer told him he’d better settle down or he’d be standing before the judge. At the first stoplight, he picked up his cell phone and hit speed dial.

“Hello?” Ryan said with disgusting innocence.

“You set me up,” Brad snapped.

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Ryan, you know good and well what I’m talking about. Brianna purposely sent me to that hair place because Callie Easton works there.”

“She does?”

“Oh, no, you don’t. You of all people should know lying doesn’t work.”

“Okay, so we knew she worked there. What’s the big deal? It’s still a great place for a haircut. You needed a recommendation, and Brianna gave you one. What’s the harm?”

A growl rumbled in his throat.

“Listen, little brother, I’d like to talk with you, but Brianna’s just put dinner on the table. You know how she is when dinner gets cold. Talk to you later.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Real nice.” Brad tossed his phone on the seat and sped off. His gut coiled. The last thing he wanted was for Callie to think he was interested. Okay, so he’d flirted with her at the bakery. But knowing she was a plant of his brother’s changed things and the princess image didn’t sit well with him, either. No matter how much her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and her soft hands felt warm against his skin.

Once home, Brad stepped into his office. He handled all his paperwork for his jobs from his office at home, saving him the expense of a secretary. Keeping expenses down and doing some extra carpentry work on the side afforded him the opportunity to oversee the Make a Home projects and save money to go back to work in South America. He may not be rich, but he enjoyed his life—as a bachelor.

He went out now and then, but he hadn’t met anyone he would want to share his life with. In fact, he’d given up on the idea. He could think of worse things than bachelorhood. Besides, he’d been too busy to think about women lately.

Hammer trotted into the room and gave Brad’s leg a nudge. He reached down and rubbed his back. “How you doing, boy?”

Sticking two invoices into their appropriate files, Brad sharpened a couple of pencils, stuck them in his caddy and took a final glance around the room. Satisfied that everything was in its place, he walked out.

“Come on, boy,” he called to Hammer, closing the door behind them. “Let’s go see Mom.”

Ryan could push all he wanted. Brad was standing firm. He had a good life, and he didn’t need a woman—especially a woman with painted nails and a punctuality problem. “I’ve seen plenty of pretty women in my day. She is just one more.”

End of story.

Callie couldn’t make sense out of Brad’s visit to the salon. Did he really just want a haircut? She’d like to think he came there on purpose, but he was obviously surprised to see her. Was that an act? Was he checking up on her? Working undercover? If so, why? She disregarded a couple of parking tickets, for crying out loud. Was that a crime? Well, maybe it was a crime, but it wasn’t exactly a felony.

She pulled her car into her aunt and uncle’s driveway. She could use some distraction from thinking about Brad Sharp.

“Come on in, honey,” Aunt Bonnie said as she opened the front door.

The spicy scent of herbed pork chops and buttery potatoes filled the air. Callie followed her nose to the kitchen.

“Smells awesome,” she said.

Dressed in jeans, a pink flowing blouse and a full-length apron, Aunt Bonnie was leaning over, peering into the oven. “Looks good.” She closed the oven door, then walked over and gave Callie a hug. “Oh, you’re getting skinnier.”

That’s why she loved her aunt.

“So, how was your day?”

“Why—why do you ask?” Callie stammered.

With a confused expression, Bonnie pulled off her oven mitts. “Well, I didn’t have much chance to talk to you at the salon, and I was just wondering how your community service has been going.”

Callie hated to be suspicious, but sometimes Aunt Bonnie was innocence, sometimes snoop queen. Right now, Callie wasn’t sure which.

“It was fine, really. Building a house is pretty amazing. I had no idea how much went into it.” Callie grabbed some glasses and filled them with ice and water, attempting to forget the humiliation of yesterday morning, the look on Brad’s face, his biting words. At least she’d made it on time this morning.

“Any handsome young men working there?” Aunt Bonnie’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Why, are you in the market?”

Aunt Bonnie giggled. “Oh, you,” she said.

“Uncle George home yet?” Callie placed the glasses on the table.

“No, but he should be home any second.” Bonnie gathered serving spoons. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

Just then they heard the garage door open and Uncle George’s car creeping into his parking spot. Not that it was hard to do. He kept an immaculate garage. Callie wished his organizational skills had rubbed off on her.

“There are my girls.” Uncle George hung his keys on a wooden peg by the door, walked over and kissed Aunt Bonnie soundly on the lips, then gave Callie a peck on the cheek. “How’s your community service going? Any eligible bachelors?”

Callie sighed.

Uncle George laughed and shrugged. “Just wondered.”

They were hopeless romantics, no doubt about it.

Callie slid into her chair and placed her napkin on her lap. “If you must know, it was fine.” They stared at her. “And, um, no reason to get your hopes up.”

Their shoulders slumped in unison.

Uncle George said grace over their meal, scooped out a dollop of mashed potatoes, then passed the bowl to Callie.

“You got your new work crew lined up for the ice-cream shop, Uncle George?”

“I’m working on it. I still have one more position to fill, and I’m not real happy with the applications I have left. It’s hard to find good help these days.”

Callie suddenly imagined Brad saying the same thing.

Once dinner was over, Callie and Aunt Bonnie cleaned the table and washed the dishes while Uncle George went into the living room and relaxed in front of the television. He was as sweet as they came, but when it came to kitchen duties, he was fully convinced they were a woman’s job. Aunt Bonnie said he made up for it by helping with the laundry.

Callie wanted a man who wasn’t afraid to do both. An image of Brad in an apron popped into her head. Yeah, that would be the day.

“What are you thinking about?” Aunt Bonnie asked while maneuvering a long pan into the cupboard.

“Nothing much.” Callie worked her fingers through the soap bubbles for more silverware.

“I don’t know why we just didn’t load the dishwasher,” Aunt Bonnie said.

Callie shrugged. “I thought it might soften my hands after working construction for two days.”

Her aunt laughed.

“Aunt Bonnie, do you think Dad ever thinks of me?”

The older woman closed the cupboard door and walked over to Callie. “I’m sure he does, every single day, honey.” Bonnie reached up and stroked Callie’s cheek, her soft hand protective and maternal. “I’ve no doubt he would love to see you, but he’s waited so long that now he probably wouldn’t know how to do it.”

Callie dried her hands and sat down at the clean table. “I wish I knew how to contact him.”

With her warm brown eyes fixed on Callie, Bonnie sat across from her and patted her hand. “I know, Cal,” she said softly. “Something stirring up thoughts of your dad lately?”

“Oh, working at the house, smelling the lumber, hearing the pounding hammers, all that, I guess.”

A pensive look in her eyes, Aunt Bonnie hesitated a moment and nodded. “I can see how that would make you think of him.” A pause hovered between them.

“No one stays around,” Callie said, slumping further into her chair. “Except you and Uncle George, of course.”

Aunt Bonnie smiled. “There is One who never leaves.”

“I know.” Callie didn’t want to get into another deep talk about God. She knew the scriptures and all that “He’ll never leave you or forsake you” stuff. She wanted to believe it, but doubts plagued her. Her dad had left, her fiancé, Jeremy, had left—what was to stop God?

Bonnie grabbed Callie’s hand. “Look, I know things have been a little dry for you lately. Talk to Him.” With that, Aunt Bonnie released Callie’s hand, gave it a pat and went back over to the oven. “You know, when you were a kid, you used to help your dad around the house.”

Callie perked up. She always loved to hear stories about her family.

“Until one day, you pounded a little too hard when hanging a nail for a picture and there was no stud. Your hammer went clear through the drywall.”

Callie winced. “I haven’t improved in my home-building skills all that much.”

Aunt Bonnie chuckled. “Well, community service will be over soon enough.”

Callie didn’t know what to think about that. Part of her wanted to run from it because it reminded her of her father, and another part of her wanted to run to it, because the memories were all she had left.

If only people she loved wouldn’t leave.

“Hey, Mom.” Brad stepped into his childhood home, the stale odor of a house closed up assaulting him. He thought his staying in town for a while would help her, but she was sinking deeper into despair.

“Hi, Brad.” Annie Sharp pushed herself to a sitting position on the sofa, propped the pillow behind her and worked her fingers through shoulder-length brown tangles.

In her late fifties, his mom still didn’t have a smidgen of gray. With her big dark eyes and trademark thick locks, men once sought after his mother. But these days she looked too thin, and even he could tell her hair needed professional help. No doubt the same could be said of her inner self.

Brad walked over and pulled open the living-room curtains. Late afternoon sunlight chased away the gloom. He could see Hammer waiting patiently in the truck.

“Aw, Brad, why did you do that?” She shielded her eyes. “That gives me a headache.”

“Mom, you need to let some sunshine in. It’s a beautiful day out there.”

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”

“It’s five. Have you started dinner—more important, have you had lunch?”

“Now, Brad, don’t you start.”

He sagged into the cushion beside her and took her limp hands into his. “Mom, you have to take care of yourself.”

With her eyes cast down, she whispered, “I know.”

“Are you taking your vitamins?”

She shrugged.

“Let me take you out to dinner.”

She glanced up. “Oh, no, no, Brad. I’m a mess.” She absently ran a hand over her hair again.

“So go get cleaned up.” He wondered how long she’d been in those wrinkled clothes.

“Thank you, honey, but I’m too tired to go anywhere.”

“Mom. When was the last time you left this house?” Stray wrappers, newspapers, paper plates and empty glasses littered the room. Guilt speared him. He needed to make sure she got out once in a while. He should have been coming over more often. Work had gotten in the way of his good judgment—again.

She shrugged.

“You need to get out.”

“I will. I have to go to the nursing home soon and see your grandmother.”

She leaned back against the sofa as though she barely had the strength to talk.

“How’s Gram doing?” He hadn’t been over there in a while, either.

“’Bout the same. She misses Princess.” Princess was a nickname Nicole had been given as a small child. To Brad, the name had been prophetic. She had fallen into what he called the “princess curse,” where women think they have to have the perfect bodies, yet in their minds their bodies are never good enough. That curse had killed his sister, and left a huge hole in their family.

“We all miss her. But Nicole would want us to go on, Mom.” He told himself that every day.

She lifted dark, watery eyes. “I try. I really do.” Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“I know.” He pulled her frail body to him. “Let me take you to see Gram tomorrow.”

She finally pulled away, teetering a moment, then dabbed her nose with a tissue. “You have a job to do.”

“Well, how about I pick up dinner and then take you to see Gram, after I get off work?”

“I don’t know.”

He looked at her tattered clumps of hair. “I could even take you out to get your hair done, to make you feel better.”

For a moment he thought he saw a flicker of excitement. But she said, “I’m not ready for that, Brad.”

Disappointment flooded him. What could he do to help his mom? Right now she looked so…old. Lifeless.

“But if you’ll take me to see your grandma in the next day or two, that would be good.”

He’d take what he could get. “Great. In the meantime, I’m running to that Chinese restaurant down the road that you love. I’ll pick you up some dinner. Be right back.”

As though she were too weary to argue, she leaned back into her pillow. “Okay, honey.”

He suspected she would drift back to sleep before he pulled out of the driveway.

“How you doing this morning?” Heather’s hyper voice said she’d already downed two cups of coffee. Callie could hear the whir of her car engine and the swishing of traffic in the background.

“It’s just so wrong that you’re this happy in the morning. Please don’t tell me you’re already on your way to work.” Callie settled onto the foot of her soft bed blanketed with billowy comforters. Chaos, her sandy-haired cocker spaniel puppy, trotted over to her and tried to get on the bed. With the mounds of blankets, it was too hard for him to jump up. Callie snatched her pooch and snuggled into his silky fur.

“Okay, I won’t tell you.”

Callie giggled when Chaos tried to lick her face. “Stop.”

“Are you listening to me or playing with that dog again?”

“Guilty on both counts.”

Heather sighed. “Tossed aside for a puppy.”

“You’re not as cute.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

“So, why are you off and running this morning?” Callie asked.

“I’ve got an early hearing.”

“Well, I’m in no hurry to do my community service, but you’ll be happy to know I’m making an effort to get there on time.”

“That a girl.”

“They’d better save me some coffee, that’s all I’ve got to say.”

“Well, behave yourself. I don’t have time to represent you on any criminal charges just now.”

“Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll certainly keep that in mind before I go out and commit my next crime.” Tucking himself into a perfect circle, Chaos settled onto her lap.

Heather laughed. “So how do you like working with Brad Sharp?”

“Wow, I’m impressed that you remembered his name.”

“Oh, uh, well—”

“Hey, wasn’t that the judge’s last name? Sharp?”

“Uh, yes—yes, I think it was.” Heather was stuttering. Heather never stuttered.

“I smell a rat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Is he related to Judge Sharp?”

“Well, it is entirely possible. They both have the same last name, after all.”

“Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest or something?” This whole matter did not sit right with her. Something was going on.

“Just because he’s having you do community service on a project with his brother does not merit a conflict of interest.”

“Aha, so you admit it!” Callie was incensed.

“Well, yeah, I do. So Brad is his brother. What’s the big deal?”

“Just seems like they’re in cahoots about something. And actually it seems like you might be involved, Heather. Do you know Brad?”

“What? I can’t hear you, Callie. You’re breaking up,” Heather said.

“Did you have something to do with—”

“Listen, I’m at the office, and I can’t hear you anyway. Gotta go! Talk to you later.”

Callie had a sneaking suspicion that Heather could hear her just fine. She donned her boot-cut jeans and a royal-blue-and-white-striped T-shirt. Once her hair was dried to satisfaction, she put Chaos in his crate, then grabbed her straw bag with blue matching trim before heading out the door.

Something strange was going on, and Callie was determined to find out what it was—even if it meant talking to a man who probably wanted nothing to do with her.

Brad watched Callie give the board one final thump with the hammer, and then admire her handiwork. Just then, she glanced over at Brad, making him drop the box of nails he was holding, scattering them across the concrete floor.

They both fell on their knees and started gathering the runaway nails before someone tripped on them.

“Over here,” she said, laughing.

All around them, people crawled around the floor in search of the nails. In a rippling effect, one-by-one, people started laughing, until the entire crew was nearly hysterical.

Brad quickly stood, blew out a ragged breath and put his silent cell phone to his ear. Clomping his way through the rough terrain, he moved away from the job site. He needed a minute to think, to try and figure out what had gotten into him.

He kicked a clump of dirt out of the way. He was an idiot, and a clumsy one at that. Hammer stepped away, walked behind him and ended up on his other side.

Brad had tried to avoid her. He wanted nothing to do with her, thanks to his brother. Yet when he noticed how hard she was working, sunlight glistening in her golden hair, cheeks flushed, tongue peeking out of the side of her determined mouth with every measured swing, well, he tried to look away, but he couldn’t.

“Hey, are you all right?” The soft touch of Callie’s hand on his arm made him whip around as though she were an enemy to be reckoned with.

“I’m fine.” He glared at Hammer for not letting him know someone was approaching.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to apologize. I wasn’t, um, laughing at you. It was just a funny situation.”

A sliver of vulnerability shone in her eyes, pulling him in. The slight sprinkle of freckles across her nose gave her a childlike quality, though he knew from experience she had no trouble standing up for herself. Not that that was bad. She was the perfect blend of independence and softness. He liked that in a woman.

“Brad?” She stepped closer. “Are you all right?” She touched him again, sending electrical impulses shooting straight up his arm. Her eyes probed his, lingering, searching.

Ammunition straight from his brother’s warehouse.

Oh, she was good, no doubt about it. He took a step backward. “I’m fine.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. He took another step backward. “Really.” Dropping his cell phone, he bent over and picked it up, shaking his head at another display of clumsiness.

“You’re not mad at me, then?” The question in her eyes, the lift of her mouth, the way her slender finger curled around a strand of hair…

Taking another step backward, his foot fell into a hole, and he went down with a thud. Much to his embarrassment, a groan escaped him.

“Oh, let me help you,” she said, reaching over to help him up.

“No, no, don’t move me.” His voice sounded three octaves too high. He cleared his throat and said with a deep, manly voice, “I’ve hurt my ankle.”

This woman was dangerous. He’d stay away from her or die trying.

“I’ll get some help.” Before he could respond, she was off and running. And the weird thing was his dog, who never left his side, went with her.

The traitor.

By the looks of his ankle, running was something he wouldn’t be doing anytime soon.

His brother was going to live to rue the day Callie Easton stepped into his courthouse.

Chapter Four

“Come on, Brad, it’s only a sprain. You’ll be on crutches for two, three days. What’s the big deal?” Ryan said.

Rain pelted the windows of Brad’s house, interrupting Hammer’s slumber. The Lab scratched behind his ear, then sauntered into the kitchen, leaving Brad stranded in the living room.

“The big deal? The big deal?” The words wrapped around his esophagus and threatened his air supply. Brad took a long, ragged breath and propped his leg on a pillow while reclining on the sofa. “The big deal is I am trying to build a house.”

“A couple of days on crutches won’t kill you.” The phone wire crackled with the thunderstorm, matching Brad’s mood.

A low, throbbing pain started at the back of his head and radiated forward. “Listen, I’ve got to go. My head aches and I need something to eat.”

“You want Brianna to bring you over something?”

You’ve done enough already, thank you. “No. I’ll just grab something.”

“You need to learn to cook. There are times when you might not be able to get to the restaurant.”

Just once he’d like Ryan to take off his big brother hat.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You will never find me in the kitchen. I have an aversion to working in a kitchen. Call me a male chauvinist, but it’s not my thing.”

“You might not want to mention that on first dates.” Ryan laughed.

“Talk to you later.” Brad hung up the phone, feeling grumpier than ever. He reached for the pain pills the hospital had given him and took two. His stomach growled. Hammer’s paws clacked against the hardwood. With his plastic food bowl clutched between his teeth, Hammer stopped at the sofa in front of Brad. Then he dropped it.

“This is your second fill-up today. I’ve yet to eat anything.”

Hammer plunked down on his haunches, lifted sad eyes and commenced with a soulful whine.

“You know, that little act could make you a Hollywood star.” Brad snatched the bowl and his crutches and stood up. “You owe me.” He was headed toward the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

If his mood got any worse, he’d have to hole himself up in a padded cell, he thought, hobbling to the door. “If you’re not a Girl Scout selling cookies, go away.” The hinges creaked as the door swung open.

There stood Callie Easton under a red-and-white polka-dotted umbrella big enough to cover a baseball team. It all but screamed to his nosy neighbors to sit up and take notice. She stood there smiling.

Couldn’t she think of anything better to do?

“Whoa, looks like I came in the nick of time,” she said, smiling brightly.

Brad continued to stare at her. It irritated him to no end that someone could be that happy all the time. Okay, his mood was so bad he didn’t even want to be around himself.

“Color me biased,” she said, pointing at the dog food bowl, “but I think you’ll prefer this.” She nodded toward her own dish.

He forced a weak laugh. They stood there in awkward silence.

“Um, it’s kind of wet out here. Mind if I come in?”

Cold chills swept over him. The smell of danger was in the air. Or maybe it was the smell of fear.

His.

“Yeah, sure. Come on in.” Though he thought better of it, he stepped away from the door so she could slip inside.

“I felt so bad about what happened at work. And I couldn’t help wondering if I caused it somehow. All those nails rolling everywhere, me laughing, the others joining in—”

Yeah, thanks for bringing it all up again.

“—so where’s your kitchen?”

“This way.” He adjusted his crutches and walked ahead of her. “You didn’t need—”

“Cooking is something I enjoy doing now and then, when I have the time.” She started to place the hot dish on the counter then turned to him. “You have a towel you can put here so the heat doesn’t hurt your counter?” She looked down. “Oh, hi, Hammer.”

The dog trotted over to her as though they were the best of friends. No more treats for that Benedict Arnold. Generic dog food. Starting tomorrow.

“Yeah, let me get it.” He hobbled over to the drawer, pulled out a towel and laid it down haphazardly.

Callie put the casserole dish on top. “Hope you like lasagna.” Before he could respond, she said, “I have breadsticks and salad in the car. I’ll be right back.”

What was she up to? He watched her head out the door. She was dressed to kill, and he was afraid he just might be the victim. He’d better be careful. She could be in on this plan with his brother.

While she was outside, he hobbled as fast as he could to the bathroom to check his hair. He ran a quick comb through it, then went back out to meet her. There was no law that said he couldn’t look nice.

“Oh, there you are. I wondered where you’d disappeared to.” She placed the other food on the counter.

He noticed she was barefoot. Her perfectly manicured red toenails made him stiffen. Princess.

She caught him looking. “I didn’t want to mess up your floor with my dirty shoes.”

The sincerity in her voice softened him. His brother had made him paranoid with his sneaky matchups, and Brad found it hard to relax where Ryan was concerned. But looking at Callie just now, he couldn’t imagine Ryan had anything to do with this.

He took a deep breath. “This is really nice, Callie. But there’s way too much food here.”

She shrugged. “Don’t you believe in leftovers?”

“No, I never have leftovers.”

She blinked.

“I never cook. Always go out to eat, so there aren’t leftovers.” He started to say something about kitchen work not being his forte, but he remembered his brother’s words and kept his mouth shut.

Which was stupid, really, considering he had no intention of having a relationship with this woman.

“Always eat out?” She looked around his kitchen, and he wondered if he should apologize. For what, he didn’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that. There’s only me. And I like to eat out.” His words sounded gruff, but he was okay with that.

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she said with irritating amusement in her voice. “You don’t have to explain to me.”

“I wasn’t explaining to you, I was merely—” His jaw twitched. Why did he get defensive around her? She was a nice woman and he acted like a jerk when she was around. The throbbing in his ankle now matched the pounding in his head. He blamed his attitude on that.

She held up her hand. “I didn’t come here to fight.” She glanced at his ankle. “Besides, I’d just have to trip you and I’d win.” She laughed.

The pain in his ankle increased tenfold.

“Let’s start again. I came here to give you dinner.” She pointed at his foot. “I hear you sprained it.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad it’s not broken.”

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his aggravation to himself. The medication kicked in and his eyelids drooped.

“Well, I’d better go. Just wanted to drop that off,” she said cheerfully. Callie started to walk past him and he grabbed her arm. Her soft, slender, warm-to-the-touch arm. “Don’t go,” he whispered.

Surprise flared in her eyes.

“There’s so much food here. Stay and have dinner with me.” He heard himself say it but couldn’t believe the words had jumped out of his own mouth. The meds brought back the niceness in him. He knew it had to be deep down in there somewhere.

She hesitated.

“Please?” What is the matter with me? Run, hide, before it’s too late!

“Okay.”

They stood there a moment looking at each other, and adrenaline shot through him. He would not fall for this woman. But there was no law that said he couldn’t enjoy her company.

Just this once.

It was all Callie could do not to laugh at the way Brad maneuvered around the kitchen. She wasn’t the cruel sort, but it was obvious this man wasn’t used to physical pain or inconvenience.

“That was a great meal, really, Callie. Thank you.” Brad settled onto the sofa beside her.

“You’re welcome.” Her fingers worked through the back of her hair. She hoped it wasn’t too flat from the rain.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?”

She shrugged. “Aunt Bonnie doesn’t enjoy cooking, and she’s always been too busy running the Peaches & Cream businesses to spend much time in the kitchen. So, wanting to help her out, I sort of picked it up myself. Watching the cooking channels helps.”

“Well, I’m impressed. As I said, I avoid the kitchen.”

“It’s always good to challenge yourself, you know.”

“Oh, are you the expert now?” he teased.

“Well, I am building a house, after all.” She straightened in her seat and took a contented breath.

“You think you could take over for me tomorrow so I could let my ankle heal?”

She whipped her head around to him and he laughed.

“For a minute there, I thought you were serious.”

He leaned in toward her and whispered, “I was serious.” He winked.

His breath brushed against her cheek. Chill bumps climbed her arms. She wanted to move but couldn’t so much as breathe. Brad looked deeply into her eyes, then traveled down to her mouth as his head tilted forward, leaning closer, closer. She couldn’t believe this was happening, not after the way he’d treated her on the site. Did Brad Sharp actually…like her? Like the slight touch of a breeze, his lips barely lit upon hers. And she let out a hiccup that shook the sofa.

Her eyes flew open. Brad blinked and pulled away.

It was a curse. Thanks, Mom.

Callie mentally shook herself. What was she thinking? By the look on Brad’s face, she’d say the situation had caught him by surprise, as well. Or maybe it was just the hiccup.

“It’s getting late. I’d better be going. Just bring my dishes to the work site whenever you’re finished with them.” Practically sprinting to the door, she turned with a wave before he could haul himself off the sofa. “Hope you feel better.” Hiccups punctuated the night air as she scurried to her car.

Once inside, Callie tried to catch her breath and straighten out her thinking. She wasn’t sure why she’d decided that bringing Brad dinner was a good idea. Maybe because she felt bad about his ankle, or because she wanted to find out if he, too, thought it was suspicious that she’d been sent to his job site and he’d been sent to her salon. But it certainly hadn’t occurred to her that they’d end up almost kissing on his couch.

It was probably just the painkillers, that’s all. Well, that would explain his behavior—but it wouldn’t explain the fact that her heart was still pounding from the feel of his lips on hers.

Hiccup.

Brad put his palm against his forehead and leaned his head against the back of the sofa. His mind was cloudy from the meds, but he was alert enough to know he had just tried to kiss Callie Easton. What was the matter with him? Number one, he refused to get entangled with a woman his brother had forced on him, and number two, he’d only known her for a few days. Not only that, but he wasn’t staying in Burrow forever. So what was the point of a relationship here? He had to blame it on the meds. He just didn’t work that fast under normal circumstances. Now she probably thought he was a real player.

“I blew it again,” he said, feeling Hammer’s head pushing against his hand. “A lot of help you are. I know you’re the friendly sort, but where’s your allegiance, huh?” Brad scratched behind his pooch’s ears. “You need to keep me away from her, not make her your new best friend.”

He’d have to watch himself in the days ahead and stay away from Callie at all costs. Keep their relationship on a purely professional level. A few weeks and it would all be over…until his brother sent over someone else. Though something told him someone else wouldn’t have the same power over him as Callie Easton.

The smell of sweet apple conditioner filled the air. Callie tried to relax while Jessica ran the warm water over her hair. “I will so pay you back for this, Jessica. I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it. I told you I have nothing to do tonight anyway. Besides, I didn’t have that many appointments this afternoon.”

“I will name my firstborn after you. I’ve always liked the name Jessica, so that will work just fine, don’t you think?”

Jessica laughed. “That will be the day.” Jessica worked the conditioner through Callie’s hair.

“Hey, what do you mean by that?”

“Only that your aunt has been trying to hook you up for years.”

Why did people constantly pressure her to find someone? Marriage wasn’t for everybody. If she was happy with her life as it was, why couldn’t they leave her alone?

“Is the water too hot?” Jessica asked.

“No, it’s perfect.”

“I’ve waited all through the color and highlights, so now you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Callie. We both know you only color your hair when you’re really, really upset. You have issues, girlfriend.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil.”

“Now spill it.”

Callie sighed. “Brad sprained his ankle because of me, so I brought him dinner as a peace offering. And he almost…kissed me.”

“Do you like him?” Jessica turned off the water and rubbed Callie’s hair with a towel.

“I’m confused. I thought he didn’t like me. But I guess he’s a friend.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.” Callie pushed the lever to lower the bottom half of her reclining chair.

“Is that all you want him to be?” Jessica led the way to her station.

“Ye-yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Callie slid into the chair. “Jessica?”

“Yes?”

“Could you stop asking me these questions?”

Jessica laughed. “Suit yourself.”

Callie steered the conversation to safe waters during her trim. Jessica didn’t push, for which Callie was thankful.

“I love it, Jess.” Callie swirled around in her chair and looked at the back through a handheld mirror. “I haven’t had light brown hair in forever.” She wondered if Brad would like it, then wondered if she should be wondering that.

“It’s really a good look for you, Cal.” Jessica glanced at the clock. “Well, now I really do need to get home. My favorite show is coming on in fifteen minutes.” Jessica finished sweeping the hair from her station.

Callie gave her a hug and sneaked a twenty into Jessica’s purse when she wasn’t looking. “See you tomorrow.”

“Let me know what he thinks of it,” Jessica called out.

“Who?”

Jessica just smiled. “Good night, Callie.”

Brad glanced at his watch. Callie had been so careful to be on time at the site since that first day. After last night things would no doubt be a little awkward between them. He was an idiot. He had no intention of getting involved with this woman—or anyone else, for that matter, and yet he did something stupid like that. What if she didn’t show up again? He’d have to tell his brother the truth so that she didn’t get in trouble. Brad shifted on his crutches. That was all he needed.

If she didn’t show up in the next ten minutes, he’d call her and tell her that despite what happened last night, she was still expected to show up for duty.

A car pulled up in front of the job site, and the Sauders family piled out.

“Good morning, Brad,” Mick said, stepping up to the house.

“Morning, Mick and Andrea.” Brad looked at Micah. “How come you’re not in school?” He ruffled her blonde curls, and she lifted the snaggletoothed grin of an eight-year-old.

“We’re headed there now. Thought we’d stop by and see how things were coming first,” Mick said.

Brad walked the family through the framing, showing the progress they were making, pointing out where each room will be and introducing some of the volunteers. Brad walked over to a woman whose back was to them. He didn’t recognize her. “And this is—” He waited for her to turn around, but she didn’t. She just kept hammering. He looked at the Sauders and they smiled.

Micah walked up to the woman and tapped her on the arm.

She turned around. Three nails were gripped between her lips. She pulled them free, then yanked the earbuds from her ears, music spilling from them. “Oh, hello,” she said.

Brad was speechless—again. It was Callie, with someone else’s hair.

She tossed a brief glance at Brad, then quickly looked back toward the family.

“Uh, Callie Easton, this is the Sauders family. They will be moving into this home.”

Callie took in a sharp breath. “Oh my, it’s so nice to meet you!” She pumped their hands with great enthusiasm. “It’s so fun to put the faces with the work—you know what I mean?”

They stared at her, blankly.

“You know, you work and work and have no idea who you’re doing it for or if they’ll like it or if they’ll want to move first chance they get. You wonder what kind of family they are, you know, the lively type or the—”

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