Once Bitten Twice Shy. Sommer Marsden
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the hole, big hands on his hips, and then pursed his lips. She couldn’t hear it through the windowpane, but August was almost certain he was whistling. It made her smile. Her grandfather had been a talented whistler.
Then he surprised her by glancing up, grinning and tossing her a wave. She jolted, startled that she’d been spotted. August raised a hand in return; she had no other option. Bolting from the window like a startled rabbit seemed a bit extreme.
He turned back to the truck and began to unload white bags. Most likely the gravel he’d mentioned. Her phone chimed from an incoming text and her heart leaped at the valid distraction from watching Jack Murphy through the studio window.
I mean it. Call me later! Huggles.
Carley. She laughed. Good to know the nosiness and concern extended all the way to her office.
She answered the text and wandered into the kitchen to make herself a cup of instant coffee. She tried not to cheat and use instant but she had no urge to brew an actual pot. It simply seemed like too much effort after the dream and the rough morning. Instead, while the water boiled, she took a white pencil and started to doodle rimes of frost on black stationery paper.
Good idea. New seasonal design for her online store August Ever After. Little crystalline spirals and lacework appeared beneath her pencil until she noted the sound of rapidly boiling water. She was either too intent or too out in space today. There didn’t seem to be an in-between.
She let the water cool a moment before pouring it over the freeze-dried espresso grounds. Two teaspoons of sugar – she really should give it up, she knew – and some non-dairy creamer that Carley always called ‘fake cow powder’. Then she sipped, looking out of the back window at the neighbour’s dog Charlie, who was doing his best to pee on every dead leaf that littered the ground. Safer to look out of the back window than the front.
‘Why so wrapped up in this guy?’ she said softly. Speaking aloud always made her wonder if she was destined to become a crazy cat lady. Only minus the cats. ‘He’s just a guy. He fell in a hole, you helped him, he asked you out – sort of – and you shot him down. It’s happened before and it’ll happen again.’
The problem was, and she damn well knew it, that she hadn’t wanted to say no. And that hadn’t happened in a long time.
When the doorbell rang she jumped, sloshing hot coffee on her sweater. She dabbed it quickly and hurried to the front. Afraid it would be Jack, but hoping it would at the same time.
Lucky or doomed, she wasn’t sure, it was him.
‘Hi,’ she said, standing in the doorway. Invite him in? Not? The anxious poleaxed feeling wasn’t the best. She stepped back finally and waved him in.
‘Morning. Just wanted you to know that I’m putting a few bags of gravel in. And then the filler dirt. Should be able to wrap it up today.’ It was warm in the house so he tugged off the knit cap. His thick hair stood up in swoops and swirls and she found herself smiling.
‘Good, good,’ she muttered, trying to cover her sudden amusement.
He smoothed his hair and smiled back at her. It made her avert her eyes, that smile. ‘I was just wondering if you wanted something in that hole.’ She felt her eyes widen inadvertently and he laughed. ‘Jesus. What I mean is, did you want me to plant anything when I’ve filled it in or do you want me to try and just match the lawn to what exists?’
‘Oh, well… I hadn’t thought about that,’ she admitted.
‘You couldn’t really plant anything big,’ he said. ‘That original root structure is still down there and it’s starting to dry rot, which is why it’s caving in. But you could probably plant an ornamental if you wanted.’
She stared at him.
Jack scrubbed his face with his hands and then offered her another brilliant smile. ‘An ornamental tree. Something small.’
‘Oh – yeah. Sure. Um…’ The fact that he made her brain scramble to the point where she sounded like a stoner was annoying. And frightening. ‘Can I think about it? Maybe look at some online?’
‘Sure. No problem. Just a suggestion.’ He tugged the cap back on. ‘Back out there. It’s cold today, keep warm.’
‘I know. Frost!’ she blurted. Then she took a deep breath and told herself to stop being an ass. ‘How about a cup of coffee? I only have instant but it’s pretty good instant. Strong. Which is how I like my coffee. But I could make it weaker if you wanted…’ Her voice faded. Her heart was pounding as if she’d suggested she disrobe, not just offered him a hot beverage.
He nodded. ‘That’d be great. Thanks. I’ll just be out front. Holler and I’ll come grab it.’
Then he smiled again, the skin around his eyes crinkling handsomely, before he slid his shades back on. He strode outside, strong and tall, and she couldn’t help but watch him go.
August didn’t call out to him; she took the coffee out and stood there, against her better judgement, and watched him work. The flex of his legs. The broadness of his back. The way his hands gripped the white bags of gravel. The way the sun shone on his face and highlighted the small wrinkles here and there that came from daily exposure to the elements.
I’m an artist. Studying people is what I do. Nothing to worry about…
But there was and she knew it. ‘I’ll leave you to it now,’ she said softly. She almost thought he didn’t hear until he straightened, dusted his hands off on his trousers and faced her.
‘I don’t mean to be that guy,’ he said.
‘That guy?’
‘The guy who can’t take no for an answer.’
‘Oh –’
‘But are you sure you wouldn’t like to see that art show? Every time I step inside your house I see something new that grabs my attention. Something tells me most of it is your own work.’
Heat flooded her cheeks despite the cold. ‘Yeah. Most of it. Some is stuff I’ve collected over the years. But I really can’t,’ she said, forcing herself to leave it at that.
‘OK.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m just saying, if it’s the fact that I asked you out, we can go as friends. Totally platonic. One person introducing another person to some amazing art. No big deal. Just friends.’
She found herself repeating what she’d said about the tree. ‘Can I think about it?’
He nodded and bent back to his task. ‘You can think about it all you want. No pressure. No worries.’
Her feet carried her back to the house and she found herself standing in her studio not really remembering the journey. ‘No pressure. No worries.’ But she was worried.
August managed to keep herself from the window by looking into ornamental trees online. It gave her an idea for a series of ink pieces. When she grew restless she started sketching her ideas for the paintings the attorney firm had requested. Oddly, one of the partners had requested fairytale themes. Since she was the head honcho, no one had questioned it. August took it as a personal challenge to put her own dark spin on the classics.
She dropped her pencil atop a sketch of the Big Bad Wolf and wandered to the kitchen for a drink. A quick peek showed Jack down to his thermal top. The manual labour must have warmed him because he had ditched the knit cap too. He was shovelling mounds of dirt into the shrinking hole.
A moment of panic speared her and she realised, as she nervously gulped water, that his quick, efficient work meant he’d be gone soon. It bothered her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
She went to the bathroom, washed her hands and face and tied her hair back in a loose French braid. Then she took a deep breath and considered her outfit. Same as when Carley had popped in. The sweater, usually a comfort to her on bad days, resembled