Home to Montana. Charlotte Carter
“Ketchup’s right here on the counter. Jam too.” She slid the jam closer to him. “Anything else you need?”
“It looks good. I could use a coffee refill if you have time.”
“No problem.” Of course she had the time. He could see no one else was sitting at the counter. So why did he have to be so nice and polite? He’d been polite as a kid, too. Never teasing the girls or chasing them like some of the boys did. One time he’d even picked up a book that she had knocked off her desk onto the floor. After that the girls had all started dropping their books or pencils or some silly thing to get his attention.
He’d been unfailingly kind even though he’d known what they were up to.
Shaking her head, she tried to wipe away the memory. Just because he’d been a polite kid didn’t mean anything to her now. People changed a lot in twenty years.
Mama came out from the kitchen wearing a butcher apron and her graying hair in a net. “Alisa, have you seen Nick?” She spied him at the counter. “Well, now, aren’t you the handsome thing without all those whiskers.”
His cheeks deepened to a rich shade of red. He dipped his head, focusing on scooping up a bit of egg yolk with his toast.
“No rush, young man,” Mama said. “Finish your breakfast. Then I’d like you to try to fix those loose boards on the back steps. I noticed last night that they were wobbly. Don’t want anybody to fall, particularly when they get iced up this winter.”
“I’d be happy to give it a try.”
“Alisa, honey, you can show Nick where we keep the tools when he’s ready.”
Her stomach sank. Perfect. Just what she wanted to do. Spend more time in Nick’s company. Not.
Chapter Four
Excruciatingly aware of Nick and his dog following her, Alisa led them to the equipment shed behind the diner. She heard his footsteps on the gravel. Caught the faint scent of his tangy aftershave on the breeze. Felt his eyes boring a hole into her back.
Straightening her spine, she gave her hair a little toss as she keyed the padlock open and slid the door aside. There was nothing to be nervous about. She’d been in this shed for one reason or another with Jake Domino any number of times.
Nick Carbini wasn’t any different. They were both handymen. Or so she told herself as Nick brushed past her into the shed, planting himself in the dim light at the center of the garage-size structure.
Rags stretched out his leash to investigate on his own.
“You’ve got lots of equipment,” he commented, checking out their four-wheel drive Jeep and the old aluminum fishing boat on a trailer beside it. Her father had named it Dreamer because of his dream to own his own business.
She turned on the overhead lights. “We use the Jeep to clear our own parking lot when it snows and to get around town when we need to in winter. In the summer, we can drag a tiller for the small garden where we raise fresh vegetables.”
“Ah, that’s why the julienne squash tasted so good last night. Nothing beats from-garden-to-table fresh vegetables.”
“We’re pretty much at the tail end of the vegetable garden now.” It surprised her that he’d noticed the fresh produce. Most men wolfed down their meal without even tasting it. Apparently Nick took a little more time with his dinner.
“The hand tools are to your left.” Hammers, hand saws, screwdrivers, and pliers hung neatly on a Peg-Board. “Have you done much carpentry work?”
“One summer when I was a teenager I got on a construction crew as a helper.”
“Is that what you do for a living? Construction?” She could have bitten her tongue for asking, but the words had simply popped out of her mouth. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her.
He poked around checking out the power tools next to the workbench and hefted a power saw. “Not usually. I only lasted on the job for a couple of weeks. I dropped a load of two-by-fours on the boss’s foot. He wasn’t real happy with me.”
“Guess that was long after you moved away from Bear Lake.”
He turned slowly to look at her. “You know I used to live here?”
Trying for casual, she leaned back against the Jeep and crossed her arms. “We were in the same third-grade class.”
He returned the power saw to its place and crossed the shed to her. He studied her face, but there was no recognition in his eyes.
An irritating sense of disappointment tightened her lips.
“That was a long time ago,” he said.
“Mama remembered your family.”
He snorted a disparaging sound. “And she still hired me?”
“She remembers you being a nice kid.” So did Alisa, although she wasn’t about to admit that.
He looked at her again and shook his head. “I’m sure if I’d stuck around here a few years longer, I would have remembered you. You’re not a woman a man would easily forget.”
But boys rarely remembered skinny girls with stringy hair and massive gaps between their front teeth, which Alisa eventually eliminated with braces.
She stepped aside, trying to put more space between them. Far enough so that she couldn’t feel his eyes skimming over her face making her cheeks flush and her breath catch. “Well, help yourself to whatever tools you need to fix the steps. Just be sure to lock up the shed when you’re done.”
“You got it.”
Exiting as quickly as she could, she hurried back to the diner. Not a woman a man would easily forget. Did he mean that? Or was he simply being polite? A throwaway compliment?
What difference would it make either way? She liked her life the way it was. Things were comfortable. Predictable. Perfect for her.
During the prelunch lull, she found her mother at her desk in the kitchen working out her order for the next day from the restaurant supply delivery service.
“I wish you hadn’t hired that man,” she said.
Mama glanced up at her. “What man?”
“You know what man I mean. Our new handyman.”
“Ah, you mean Nick. Why should I not have hired him?”
“Well, because...” Unable to think of a logical reason, she plopped down in the chair beside the desk.
“Because he makes you nervous?” Mama provided.
“Of course not. It’s just that... Well, he doesn’t really have any construction experience. He won’t have any idea how to fix the steps.”
“He’s a smart man. He’ll figure it out.”
Leaning back in the chair, Alisa sighed.
“What is it, my little princess?” Mama asked softly, using the words Alisa’s father had called her. “Is it that you are attracted to Nick?”
“Certainly not.” She folded her arms across her chest. “He only showed up yesterday. He’ll be gone soon. Why would I be attracted to a man like that?” Another drifter.
Looking at Alisa with a mother’s probing eye, Mama said, “I think you are afraid to feel something for a man.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“Ever since Ben, you will have nothing to do with any man. You ignore them. Or you put on a phony smile and laugh off their advances. You’re thirty years old. At your age, you should be thinking about—”
“Mama, I’m perfectly happy just as I am. I don’t need a man. I’ve got Greg and I’ve got you.