Awakening Beauty. Amy Fetzer J.
Lane took her hand, then looked at Tyler. “Excuse us, the princess has a fitting.”
“You have to eat,” he called.
“Not with you.”
His short laugh flowed down from the stage. He went back to his job, and Lane had to drag her attention to the girl. Once she did, she got caught up in little Anna’s excitement. The girl was already wearing her tiara and she stood perfectly still as Lane pinned the flowing tulle skirt to the satin bodice. Kids were so easy to please, she thought. The kids were so different from the prima donna models she’d worked with at her fashion shows. Or the women she’d designed outfits for, who didn’t think twice about having her tear the entire design apart and remake it because they suddenly wanted something better than so-and-so had last week. This little fairy princess was delighted with Lane’s work.
She helped the girl take off the costume, easing it over her head.
“What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful, Miss Douglas,” Anna said, awed as a six-year-old could get. She raced off to tell her friends, and Lane noticed that the kids were getting wild and the mothers were looking plum worn-out. She did a quick measure of the children and their costume needs, then told Suzanne she could take care of the lot without the children being here to try them on. Suzanne was so grateful to be able to put her kids to bed, she promised a batch of homemade cookies for Lane’s bookstore customers. Lane knew she could whip the costumes up in no time and saw no reason for mothers to chase children on sugar rushes this late at night.
Two hours later she heard, “Hey, I think you can stop now.”
Just the sound of Tyler’s voice set her blood humming. When she lifted her gaze, he was standing close, smelling like sawdust and aftershave, looking so rugged she nearly melted right out of the chair. She was in big trouble. She hadn’t reacted to a man like this in…well, never.
Tyler caught the little flash in her eyes. “Man, when you agree to work, you work.”
“I was in the zone,” she said, trying to shrug off the nearly electrical zing popping through her blood.
Tyler’s gaze moved over the costumes that were finished and hanging on a movable rack. He’d watched her off and on for the past two hours. She hadn’t stopped for a moment, and she was fast, locked in a world of her own until he spoke to her.
“They’re simple patterns,” she said, brushing off his compliment.
“Sure, but you’re nearly finished. And you did a great job.”
“I still have trims and the fake buttons for the uniforms to do.”
“There’s always tomorrow.”
“True,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a tired sigh.
“Have dinner with me.” She’d probably say no, he thought, but he had to give it a shot while her defenses were low.
She lifted her gaze to his. “We really are going to have trouble if you keep asking me the same question all the time, Tyler.”
“Three times a charm…have dinner with me.”
“No, thank you.”
She looked as if she wanted to say yes, but for whatever reason, she wasn’t giving in. “You’re a stubborn cuss,” he said.
“And talking to you is impossible.”
He grinned. “It’s only dinner.”
“Nothing is open at this hour.” One thing she’d learned about this town was that, aside from a few select restaurants and a pizza joint, the streets rolled up at nine.
“Says who?” He stepped back and showed her the display of subs, chips and sodas on a table. The teenagers and other men were already chowing down in different areas of the stage.
She looked at him and smiled reluctantly. “Okay, I can’t argue now.”
Tyler hooked his thumbs in his jeans to keep from touching her and inclined his head to a spot on the far edge of the stage. She sat, her feet dangling over the edge, and he brought her a sandwich and a can of soda.
Then he hopped up beside her, his body shielding her from the rest of the volunteers.
“Those are the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen on a woman,” he said.
“You’ve made that point before.” She looked down at the combat-boot-style shoe. “They’re comfortable and warm. Like yours.” She lightly kicked his foot. He wore something similar in dark tan. His had seen better days.
He simply stared at her for a minute. He didn’t want to talk about shoes. He wanted to tell her how great she’d been. How much she’d impressed him with her talents and dedication. But all he could say was, “You amazed me. You just came in and took over.”
She blinked wide eyes. “Oh, Lord, I did, didn’t I? Do you think they’ll be upset? It’s their project and I’m the outsider.”
Tyler smiled and shook his head. “It’s the school’s project, and did you see Suzanne dragging out of here? She was grateful for your help. They all were.”
Lane shrugged. “It was fun, I admit it. How did you guys do?” she asked before he could question how she’d done so much work so fast.
Tyler cranked a look back over his shoulder at the stacks of plywood and sawhorses. And unfinished work. “We’ve got one more set to make and some painting to do, but that can wait till tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” She groaned.
“Service to the community,” he reminded with a smile.
“I’m helping,” she defended. “And the only reason I’m doing it is because your mother guilted me into this.”
“I know. Do I know weaponry or what?”
She laughed softly.
“You have a great mouth, Lane. You should do that more often.”
“I do laugh, at least twice a day.”
“Just not around me.”
“Fishing for compliments? I’d think with your fan club you wouldn’t need more.”
He frowned and Lane nodded toward a couple of young women who kept sliding glances at Tyler.
“They’re children.”
“They’re in their twenties, McKay, and trying hard to get your attention.”
He looked back at Lane. “Well, they’re failing.” But before she could make a wisecrack he said, “I know by your accent that you’re not from around here, so what brought you to the South?”
Lane debated answering that and chose her words carefully. “Slow pace, beautiful scenery.” Anonymity.
“Have you always sold books?”
“Yes.” Another lie on top of the last one. But at this point, what did it matter? She was sitting at the tip of a mountain of lies and she kept having to scramble to keep from falling off.
“What made you take that old house and renovate it?”
No lies necessary here. “I fell in love with the place the instant I saw it, despite its hideous green paint. The house was like a genteel old woman. She was dying from neglect and cried out for a new dress and hairdo.”
He smiled.
“What?” She snitched one of his chips.
“That’s how I used to see the old homes around here. Not exactly like that, but like old souls that were fading. You know, my grandfather and father started out doing strictly renovations. McKay Construction didn’t renovate yours, did we?”
“No, your competition did.”