Fairytale Not Required (2 page)

But it was her smile that he couldn't look away from. It was so full of life and vitality, that it made him want to grab her and yank her into his store so she could inject the dying place with her energy.

Her eyebrows arched up, and there was no mistaking the glint of interest in her eyes. "You disagree with the lilac paint suggestion but you're too polite to tell me that, or you're just overwhelmed by my mind-numbing beauty and stunned into disbelieving silence?"

Shit. He was staring? Jason swore and quickly stood up, brushing the dust from the store off his jeans. "My name's Jason Sarantos. I bought the place."

Her smile widened, lighting up her eyes even more, like this great gust of relief breaking through the gloom trying to consume him. "Jason, everyone in this entire town knows your name, that you bought the store, and that it was twelve minutes after three when you drove your Mercedes SUV past Wright's General Store when you arrived in town, not to mention the fact you were drinking a Dunkin' Donuts coffee as you went by." She set her hands on her hips and tilted her head, giving him a teasing grin. "Everyone was pretty offended you didn't stop in to buy your coffee at Wright's and introduce yourself."

Jason blinked, suddenly thrust back into the past, into his childhood, into the small town in Minnesota he'd grown up in, where his mother had found out about his first kiss before he'd even lifted his lips from those of Samantha Huckaby. That was why he'd been drawn to Birch Crossing: because it reminded him of everything he liked about his home and his childhood, yet it had the appealing bonus of being two thousand miles away from the sixteen cousins, five aunts and uncles, and four sisters that had driven him east to find his own path. "Shit. Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

The woman laughed, a beautiful, melodic sound that went right to his gut. God, when was the last time he'd seen anyone effuse such life? He was riveted by her, by the irreverence of her smile, by the fire in her eyes. This was a woman who was so damn alive that nothing could bring her down. He wanted that. He needed that. God, he needed that.

"Don't worry about it. The town will have you trained in no time, trust me." She raised her eyebrows. "I don't suppose you're dialed into the gossip chain enough to know my name?" She wrinkled her nose, and he thought he saw a flash of vulnerability in her eyes. "I tend to be fodder for talk in this town. I'm not always a fit."

Yeah, he could imagine. She seemed to carry the kind of spunk that might knock an old New England town on its ass. Jason grinned, and he was almost surprised to realize he still knew how to smile. Felt like a long time since he'd meant it. "Yeah, sorry, I figure I need at least twenty-four hours to recognize everyone in town by sight."

"I'll be back to quiz you in twenty-four hours." She inclined her head and held out her hand. "Astrid Monroe. My brother Harlan is the one who sold you the shop. He's out of town, so he asked me to stop by and see if you needed anything."

Instinctively, Jason reached out to shake her hand. "Nice to meet you. Thanks for the offer." Yeah, he knew what he needed. He needed a damned angel to sweep into his life and fix everything that he'd screwed up, to make this okay for his son. He needed—

Then as he felt the warmth of her palm against his, the light touch of her fingers on the back of his hand, his gut knew what he needed.

He needed
her.

* * *

Astrid was shocked by the burst of electricity that ripped through her as Jason shook her hand. It felt like her entire body had come to life, a reaction she hadn't felt since the day she'd met her ex-fiancé.

Fear rippled through her, and she jerked her hand back.

Jason's eyebrows rose, and she saw a hooded darkness sweep over his face. She was startled by the depths of the shadows in his eyes, shadows that went right to her heart, because she felt those same ones every day. Loss. Grief. Isolation. Pain.

Unsettled, she shoved her hands into her pockets, trying to gather her composure again, unable to stop herself from glancing at his left hand. No wedding ring. Crud! Why was she even looking at his hand? Horrified, she jerked her gaze back to his face just as he pulled his own gaze off her left hand.

Awareness burned through her, and she quickly stepped back, fighting to put distance between them before the roar in her belly could gain traction. "So, we'll expect you at Wright's this afternoon to do your grocery shopping, so you can introduce yourself properly." She swallowed, not liking how quavery her voice sounded. What was wrong with her? He was just a man, another man among the millions that were alive, men that all blended together until they were indistinguishable blurs in life.

Except he wasn't like that.

Jason Sarantos was more. She knew nothing about him. The whole town was in the dark. Harlan had gotten no personal information from Jason during the deal. No one had any idea how long it would take for him to show up and claim his store. She knew only that he was from New York and that he drove a nice car... Something moved behind him and she noticed a young boy sleeping in the window seat. His son? Mixed emotions tumbled through her, feelings so much more complicated than she could begin to cope with.

"I'll be by," Jason said, his voice low and rough, rolling across her skin like the heat from a wood stove on a cold winter night.

"By? By where?" She jerked her gaze to him as chills rippled over her skin.

He raised his brows. "Wright's. Didn't you say I should stop by?"

"Oh, right. Yes." Astrid shivered and hugged herself, trying to regain her equilibrium. "Great." She was used to always being secure and grounded around men, always careful not to make herself vulnerable to a man…
ever
. But her reaction to Jason was so out of her control. She was noticing him as a
man
, and that was terrifying.

The silence hung between them. Not awkward. One of intense awareness. He was watching her, those dark brown eyes so full of emotion he wasn't sharing.

His jeans were low and loose across his hips, faded and well-worn, so unlike his shiny Mercedes. His tee shirt was gray and nondescript, but the torn collar spoke of a man who wasn't afraid to get dirty and do hard work. His light brown hair was short and spiky, as if he'd spent the last hour running his hand through it in aggravation. And his body...Astrid couldn't keep herself from noticing his lean torso, his well-muscled arms, and the sculpted chest that the tee shirt didn't hide.

He was all male, all rugged, and affecting her in ways that she hadn't allowed in years. She was so used to being in complete control of her response to men, to keeping them distant, but the way he looked at her...

"Will you be at Wright's later?" he asked, his gaze intent on her. "When I stop by?"

She cleared her throat and quickly shook her head. "No, I'll be working." It was a lie, actually. She couldn't work another moment. Not today. She'd worked the last twenty-one hours without stopping, all the way through the night, and she was exhausted beyond words. The marathon attempt to jumpstart her creativity had resulted only in more failure, and she was terrified that she'd never find her way out of the spiral that had started six months ago.

He raised his brows. "What do you do?"

"I'm an artist. I make jewelry. Not with precious stones. It's more inspirational and personal." She said it almost defensively, knowing that some Mercedes-driving hotshot from New York would disdain that kind of answer.

But he smiled, a knowing, understanding smile of satisfaction, as if he loved her response. "That fits you."

Warmth swelled inside her at his reaction, and she immediately took another step back. "It fits me? You don't even know me."

His gaze flickered to the scarf in her hair, then traveled over her earrings and her outfit, making blood rush to her skin. "No, I don't." He met her gaze. "I still think it fits you."

She pressed her lips together, shocked by how good it felt to have this stranger say that. It was as if he saw the sides of her she showed to no one. Dear God, what was going on with her? Why was she responding to him like this? She had to get out of there and get her composure back. Find her space. Reclaim the persona she'd been clinging to so desperately the last two years. "So, if you're all set, then I'm going to head out—"

"Can I get your number?" Jason touched her arm, the contact sending sparks all the way through her. He studied her with those deep brown eyes, so rich that she felt like she could get lost in them for days. "In case I have any questions about the shop? Or is Harlan coming back soon?" He left the question hovering out there.

She could tell him Harlan was coming back at the end of the week, that he needed to wait until then, but before she could stop herself, her phone number tumbled off her lips.

Jason immediately pulled out his phone and typed it in, and she couldn't stop her heart from pounding. When was the last time she'd given her phone number to a man? She never did. She always kept control. Yes, yes, yes, this was about the store, not a date, but it felt different.

It
was
different.

Jason was a man, pure and elemental in his maleness, and she was noticing it on every level of her being.

"Thanks." Jason shoved his phone into his pocket and studied her again, and this time the shadows in his eyes were so evident that she felt her own throat tighten and a deep ache filled her heart, a pain that she hadn't let herself feel for so long.

Damn him. She never cried anymore. She couldn't afford to. "I have to go." Then, in a move that was so uncharacteristic of what the entire town would expect of her, Astrid fled.

"Clare?" Astrid hurried inside Wright and Son, the general store that she'd just told Jason he needed to visit. The store was relatively quiet, but it was only the afternoon lull before the pre-dinnertime rush hit. It would be heating up shortly, as people swung by to pick up takeout or groceries for dinner, or beer for the town softball game later in the evening.

But right now, the wooden tables were empty and the only occupant was Ophelia Wright, the wife of the former owner, Norm Wright, who had been the town's keystone for so many years. Ophelia was humming cheerfully behind her deli counter, her new iPod headphones looking so incongruous with her lavender-tinted gray hair and the wrinkles on her face.

Astrid knew she didn't have long until Jason arrived, but she was so freaked out by her reaction to him that she had to talk to Clare. She'd been in town for almost two years now, but Clare was one of only two people who she felt close enough with to admit she was falling apart.

No one else was allowed to know that Astrid Monroe
ever
fell apart.

"Clare's in the addition." Griffin Friese, the new owner of Wright's and Clare's fiancé, walked in from the back room, carrying a massive cardboard box. Astrid grinned at the sight of his platinum watch. The man might have walked away from a tremendous income in New York for Clare, but he still kept wearing that ridiculously overstated watch. Men and their watches. It was almost as bad as men and their cars. "She's picking paint colors for the walls of her shop," he said.

"Paint colors? Without me?" Astrid frowned as she hurried past Griffin. "Emma was going to come by later, and we were all going to do it together." Emma Larson was the only other person in Birch Crossing who Astrid felt moderately comfortable with, probably because Emma seemed to be carrying even more demons than Astrid was. She'd met Emma through Clare, and although she wasn't as close to Emma as she was with Clare, Emma was tentatively becoming another friend Astrid was almost willing to trust. Clare had become the best friend Astrid had never had as a child, which was why she was so desperate to talk to her
now
.

Before Clare had abandoned her legal career, she and Astrid had shared office space, and had spent as much time chatting as they'd spent working. Once Clare had shut down her shop, however, Astrid hadn't been able to afford the rent, since she'd been paying Clare as subtenant for only the tiny corner of the space that she used for her jewelry making. Now that they weren't working together, quality time had been seriously diminished, and Astrid had been reduced to trying to recapture her creativity while breathing the gasoline fumes at her apartment.

Who knew? Maybe they'd help her.

Astrid ducked under the plastic tarp protecting the main store from the construction. Clare was standing beside her daughter Katie and Griffin's daughter Brooke. The three of them were studying six different paint splotches on the wall, engaged in a spirited discussion about what colors would be most appropriate for the cupcake store that Clare was opening adjacent to Wright's.

Having finally quit the lawyer job that was draining her soul, Clare had ditched her slacks and blouses, and she was now wearing a pair of paint-splattered jeans, a tank top and a ponytail. She looked casual and happy, and a twinge of envy went through Astrid at the glow on Clare's face. What did it feel like to be that happy?

"Hey, girls." Astrid stepped over a stack of two-by-fours and a power saw sitting on the new wood floors. "What's up?"

Clare grinned at her, but the two teens didn't even bother to stop their debate about pale blue versus sea-foam green. "Hey, Astrid. Hope you don't mind, but the girls were really excited to get going on the paint colors."

"No, that's fine." Astrid lifted her chin, trying not to mind that Clare had been spending so much time with her new family. It used to be Clare and Astrid together, along with Emma when she had time, or with Katie showing up when she wasn't in school. But with the teens just out on summer vacation and the whole new family thing starting to develop with Clare, Griffin and their girls, Astrid was beginning to feel like there wasn't so much room for her. "Are you picking the paint colors for our mural?" As creative as Astrid was...or used to be... Emma was the one with the true gift of art, able to create the most beautiful paintings of Maine. Combining their divergent but compatible artistic talents, Astrid and Emma had been working together on the designs for the mural and they'd been planning to unveil their creation to Clare tonight.