Can't Fight This Feeling. Christie Ridgway
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and groceries and gas at resort prices, those who did certain jobs—say house painting or general handyman tasks—didn’t have an easy time of it. But she came from mountain pioneer stock and knew well that all work was honorable.
“Kyle Scott of Evergreen and Piano Keys,” she finished for him, naming two popular paint colors.
He blinked, clearly astonished.
Glory grinned at him. “I work in a hardware store. We sell cans of that stuff. I recognized those splashes on your clothes.”
He looked chagrined. “I have to admit I bought that paint over at Murphy’s,” he said, mentioning one of their competitors in the bigger town on the north side of the mountain. “I didn’t know about Hallett’s at the time.”
“Well, now you do.”
He smiled, slow. “Now I do.”
Glory swallowed the last of her beer. Then she signaled to the bartender, Murray. “Can I buy you a beer?” she asked the new guy, signaling for two without waiting for his answer.
At his silence, she glanced over, hoping she hadn’t stepped on his ego. “It’s ladies’ night,” she said. “I get a break on the price.”
“Oh. Well, then.” A strange expression crossed his face. “I appreciate it.”
Upon arrival of their drinks, she tapped her full glass to his. “What should we drink to?”
“New friends?” he suggested.
Warmth curled like a kitten in her belly. “You in these parts for a while, stranger?” It was just a beer, she reminded herself. No need to get worked up about his permanent address.
“Kyle,” he repeated. “I hope to be here for some time, yes. We’ll see how it goes.”
He hoped to be here for some time! It was good, though, that he appeared to understand that earning enough to pay mountain prices wouldn’t be easy. “I can put your name and number in our files,” she offered. “And we have a bulletin board near the front of the store where you can post a flyer. Customers often ask if we know of workers who do general home maintenance. That’s your gig, right?”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Sure.” She shrugged, pretending it was a casual proposal. Something she’d do for anyone she happened upon in Mr. Frank’s. But the truth was, she had a sudden stake in his ability to make a mountain living. There was something about the man and his dark, intense eyes that caused her heart to race. Her whole body felt as if it was coming alive.
If he could afford to stay in the area...
She slid another quick look at his handsome face. There was a sudden change in the air, too. A first-day-of-school feeling. A first-day-of-the-rest-of-your-life feeling that sensitized the surface of her skin and made the oxygen she sucked in seem even thinner than normal.
No way was she going to ignore it.
Turning toward the new guy, she placed her elbow on the bar. “So...tell me about yourself. You really want to put down roots in the mountains?”
His gaze shifted from her to his beer and he hesitated.
Too long. Mortified heat crawled up her neck. “Um, sorry,” she mumbled, and turned back to her own drink. “I’ll shut up now and let you enjoy your evening in peace.” Stupid, she thought. Stupid, stupid. He was probably married or gay or simply not interested in her in any way. Just because she’d been instantly attracted...
She remembered the day he’d walked into the store. The bell over the door had rung with its usual cheery sound, and she’d looked up from dusting the boxes of wooden matches that her dad insisted they stock but nobody ever put in their basket. The stranger had looked a little lost and a lot hot and she’d smiled to herself as she approached and asked if he needed help. There was something about a man and any kind of shopping task—even when it was hardware stuff. They always roamed the floor with an air of bafflement, as if the entire process confounded them.
Whether a woman was browsing or knew exactly what she wanted, she walked through a store with the confidence of a general on a battlefield.
He’d asked to be pointed toward the painting supplies and then he’d strolled off in the direction she’d indicated, leaving her to admire the set of his shoulders and those long legs. But she’d dismissed him from her mind immediately after he’d made his purchases, however. Because mooning over a visitor wasn’t a practical thing to do.
Yet now that she’d run into him at mostly locals Mr. Frank’s and he said he was hoping to remain in the area...well, that seemed promising.
Not if he wasn’t interested, however.
The proprietor of a locally owned and operated hardware store had to be nothing but practical. So even if he wanted to be more than temporary to the mountains, if the spark wasn’t mutual, she wasn’t going to waste a moment worrying about it.
“Glory.”
“Hmm?” She chirped it, faking happy and unconcerned. Her gaze stayed stubbornly glued on the TV above the bar. The coverage of an early snow in Wisconsin was fascinating.
“I’ve forgotten the steps,” he said.
“Mmm.” She made a mental note to check on her order of snow shovels. You never wanted to be deeply discounting surplus in April, but you’d better have plenty in stock between New Year’s and Valentine’s Day.
Kyle released a sigh. “So it’s no wonder I’ve already stumbled on them. Give me another chance?”
She shook herself and shot him a quick look. “What?”
His expression was sheepish. “Is there a way to tell a woman you’re rusty when it comes to bar pickups?”
Rearing back, she felt another hot flush overtake her. “I wasn’t trying to pick you up!” It was sort of a lie, but still.
“Hell,” he muttered, slapping his palm to his forehead. “I did it again.”
“Did what?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“I...work a lot. Don’t get out much.”
Which sounded like Glory. “So...?”
“So, it was more like I was trying to pick you up.”
Her eyes rounded. “You really are rusty. You’re not supposed to admit the pickup intention right out loud like that.”
He laughed.
She liked the sound of it. “Though to be truthful, I’m not into that kind of thing anyway.” Yes, she’d wanted to talk to him, feel out the boundaries of the attraction she felt for him, but a pickup implied sex and she didn’t jump into anyone’s bed.
He grimaced, and as if he could read her mind, he said, “Yeah. I bet it sounded like I was after sex, huh?”
“Um...it did.”
His hand slapped his forehead again. “I’m terrible at this, see?”
He was too good-looking to be “terrible.” She figured he’d had plenty of opportunities to know women in every way possible.
“You’re looking skeptical,” he said.
“It could be just a good line,” she told him honestly and lowered her voice to a manly tone. “‘I’m inexperienced and utterly harmless despite my good looks and fabulous smile.’”
His mouth curved upward.
Yep, fabulous smile, Glory thought.
“I didn’t say I was ‘inexperienced.’” Mischief sparked in his eyes. “Just out of practice.”
Smiling herself, she shook her head. “Looks like the rhythm is coming