Happily Ever After (4 page)

“Are you from around here?” Mona noticed how his eyes stayed on her, as if transfixed, and she looked down, suddenly aware
of her disheveled appearance.She must look lovely, her hair in chunks over her face, dressed to kill in her best ragged sweatshirt
and painted jeans.

He shook his head, eyes not leaving her face. “Just passing through.”

Perfect. She liked him even more. “Not staying long then.”

“Nope.”

She had a sudden flare of doubt. “You’re not . . . um . . .” She giggled nervously, feeling like an idiot. “. . .running from
the law or anything, are you?”

He actually blushed. Fear leaped through Mona, and she wanted to cringe. Sure, he was just aching to confess he’d murdered
three women in the last town. She gave another small, hideous giggle. . . .

His smile made her laugh die in her throat. “No, Mona. I’m safe. I promise.”

She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “Of course, I’m sorry.”

He held up a hand. “No, I understand. You can’t be too safe, even in Deep Haven.”

“Great.” He circled the room. “What are you building here?”

“A bookstore. Well, at least this half is. The other half is a pottery shop.”

Was it her imagination or did the color wash from his face? “A bookstore?” He looked as if reading was an approved method
of torture. He probably hadn’t read anything but a vehicle fix-it manual since high school.

“It’s been a dream my entire life.” Why did she tell him that? Now his horrified look had turned to confusion. “Let me show
you the apartment, okay?”

“Right.” He nodded, and she noticed how he swallowed, apparently relieved not to have to comment on how she’d taken out her
heart and pinned it on her sleeve.

She followed as he led the way to the street and a rusty, tortoise green pickup. From the bed of the truck, he retrieved a
bulging army duffel . . . and a dog. Mona guessed a Labrador. Chocolate eyes considered Mona for a moment; then the animal
kissed her, juicy and full on the face.

“Whoa, Rip! Take it easy on the first date, bud!” Joe grabbed the dog by a frayed collar and pulled him away from Mona. She
scowled, wiping her face on her already grimy sweatshirt.

“The ad didn’t say ‘no pets,’ so I figured it’d be okay.” Joe raised his eyebrows hopefully.

Mona reached out and rubbed Rip tentatively behind the ear. The dog groaned and leaned into her hand.

“He likes you.” Joe said it in a singsong way, and Mona couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay,” she agreed.

Her new handyman flung the duffel easily over his shoulder and followed Mona to the backyard and up the stairs to the apartment
over the unattached garage. She had devoted half an afternoon to cleaning it, windows included. When she opened the door,
the sharp smell of ammonia seeped out in greeting.

Joe whistled low. “Swanky.”

Mona rolled her eyes.

Joe dropped the duffel on the floor and sat on it.

“Guess I’ll need to invest in a davenport.”

Mona tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. We don’t have much next door either.”

Joe grinned. “No problem. Rip and I can sleep anywhere.” He grabbed the dog and wrestled him to the floor, then held him down
as he rubbed Rip’s belly.

“It’s Joe, Mona.” Something in his tone—the way her name seemed to sound almost like a melody when he said it—made her stop.
She turned back, frowning.

Joe was playing with his dog—she, obviously, already a wisp of memory. He didn’t even glance in her direction as she backed
out of the room.

“Is she gone, Rip?” Joe croaked.

He’d felt like a fool, answering her questions in monosyllables, but it was the best he could manage after she fixed him with
that startled, doe-eyed gaze. She’d been so intent on her table, she hadn’t heard his knock or sensed his presence as he watched
her scrub. Disarmingly gorgeous in a pair of faded jeans and a University of Minnesota sweatshirt, she touched his heart with
her linebacker grunts and bulldog determination. He’d had to fight an urge to push back the golden lock of hair falling over
her face. It was her eyes, however, that had sent his heartbeat into overdrive—deep, luminescent, and the rich color of emeralds.

He was here because of Gabe. He didn’t really want to be embroiled in an endless pit of projects. Nor did he have room in
his life for a woman. He depended on his freedom to allow Gabe to live the life he needed. Putting down roots would only mean
courting trouble for himself, not to mention Gabe. And letting a woman in his life would complicate things, maybe unravel
everything he’d spent the years struggling to create. At the least, it would mean setting himself up for the heartache he’d
been trying to dodge most of his life.

He tightened his jaw. It would do him well to remember it was a temporary assignment. His new boss had made it clear that
he had six weeks to finish the job and clear out. Hopefully, he’d be long gone before then. And with some careful sleuthing,
he’d have just what he needed to keep his future from crumbling. Meanwhile, he would maintain a safe distance from her and
her magical green eyes.

Joe turned from the window, unsure whether to unpack or throw the duffel in the truck and make for the hills. He knew only
one thing for certain: he’d have to tread in stockinged feet or his haphazardly constructed plan would crash down on his head
like Mona’s cracked dining-room ceiling.

Liza bounced into the house just as Mona finished scraping off a second layer of stain remover. The smug look on her friend’s
face alerted Mona to mischief a second before a handsome stranger strolled in at Liza’s heels.

“Mona, I’d like you to meet Brian Whitney. He’s in charge of zoning down at city hall.”

Mona wondered what other information Liza had gleaned about the man with wavy ebony hair, stunning green eyes, and a muscled
body unsuccessfully hidden in a charcoal gray suit.

Mona cringed, feeling like a bedraggled schoolgirl in her ripped Levi’s and stained sweatshirt. An unsightly hair drifted
over her face, and she blew at it.

“Glad to meet you, Mona,” Brian said in a honeyed voice and offered his hand.

Mona ripped off her gloves. His hands were clammy, but his grip strong as he crunched her hand. “Let’s go outside.” She nodded
feebly toward the front door, hoping to escape the dining room where the fumes—and his overwhelming presence—were making her
head cloud.

“Liza tells me you are having parking problems,”

;Brian said as they stepped out onto the verandah.

The cool wind cleared her head, but it reaped the fragrance of Brian’s spicy cologne. Mona gathered up her disobedient hair
and snapped a rubber band around it, feeling even more like a vagrant. “Yep, I got a ticket.”

Brian had his gaze on Liza, who busily twirled her long ebony hair between two fingers. Mona recognized his appreciative look
toward her leggy roommate.

“We’ll see what we can do about getting this area approved for a parking lot,” he said, breaking his stare and turning back
to Mona.

Mona smiled gratefully, and he shot her a flawless white smile to go with the rest of his perfection. Spying Liza’s enthusiastic
grin, Mona’s jaw grew tight. Mona had found Joe, a rumpled drifter. Liza had dug up Brian, the local jewel.

“Would you two like to catch a bite to eat?” Brian asked. “I know this great place up the shore that serves fresh lake trout
that will melt in your mouth.”

She suddenly realized how long it had been since she’d last eaten. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll wait while you change.”

Mona looked down at her sloppy attire, and her appetite died. “No, on second thought, you and Liza go.

I have to finish my table.”

Brian flared his brows, as if shocked at someone turning him down. “You sure?”

Mona nodded, but a tiny knot clenched in her chest as the two drove off together in his sleek, two-door black Honda that seemed
out of character for Deep Haven. Well, so was Liza. They were a matched set.

Mona returned to her table, wiping away the last bits of lacquer. The walnut grain gleamed. With a coat of varnish, the table
would be perfect for displaying muffins.

She heard steps down the walk, the truck door slam, and the growl of an old motor. Her new handyman roared off down the street.
It seemed everyone had a social life but her. Mona polished furiously.

The table glistened with sticky varnish by the time Liza returned. Showered, with a peanut butter sandwich hardening in the
pit of her stomach, Mona lay in bed and let exhaustion sweep over her in gentle waves. The slam of a car door and Liza’s infectious
laughter jolted her into consciousness. She flipped on her light and groped for a book as Brian’s sultry tenor floated up
from the porch.

When she heard the Honda drive away, she fixed her eyes on the book, trying to absorb the words. She was rereading the first
sentence for the third time when Liza poked her head into Mona’s room.

“You really should have gone. The fish was fabulous, and you know how I hate fish.” Liza padded inside, uninvited. Mona’s
brass bed squeaked as she sat on it.

Mona turned her book face down over her blanketed knees, folded her hands on top, and stared at Liza.

“You’re mad,” Liza stated.

“I’m not mad. I didn’t want to go.”

Liza shot Mona a dubious look. “You did want to go. I know. So why not?”

Liza arched her plucked brows. “Not too tired to finish the table. It looks fabulous.”

Mona managed a half grin.

Liza touched Mona’s hands. “Next time, go.”

“We have six weeks before opening day. I don’t have time to go.”

Liza leaned close and peered at her. “You’re just afraid he might get under your skin, and you’ll like him.”

The only person that had gotten under her skin lately was Mr. Smug-is-my-middle-name Michaels, her new handyman, and that
felt more like a case of the hives

.Mona chewed her lower lip, debating Liza’s words, then gave in to her wacky expression and smiled. “Did you have a good time?”

Liza swung her legs up onto the bed. “Marvelous. But he’s not for me.”

“What do you mean, ‘marvelous but he’s not for me’

?You’re nuts.”

Liza shrugged. “He’s real nice and funny. But he doesn’t make me go all tingly inside.”

Mona rolled her eyes. “If you’re waiting for tingly, you ought to get one of those new neck massagers we saw in the mall.”

Liza grinned. “All I know is the tingly thing is what made my mama’s marriage go thirty years. She told me early on not to
settle for humdrum.”

Mona shook her head. “I’d settle for a nervous ripple.”

The two laughed until the bed squealed in protest.

“Okay, Miss Picky, tell me who your dream man is. If it isn’t Brian Whitney, who is it?” Liza asked.

Mona grew serious. “There isn’t any such man. At least in the flesh.”

Liza gave her a dubious look.

“Okay, my list is long and detailed, but here’s the shorthand. He has to be patient, hardworking, willing to put others before
himself, a Christian of course, kind, and able to be vulnerable. He has to be intelligent, a reader, must love coffee, and
his favorite pizza can only be Canadian bacon with mushrooms and green peppers.” Her tone lost its teasing quality. “Most
of all, he must be able to commit to this place and living here.” She held out her hands, palms up. “See, my dream man doesn’t
exist.”

“I didn’t know you were holding out for Jonah.”

“Jonah?”

“What about commitment to place?” Mona stabbed a finger into the air. “Jonah hardly spends a month in one location.”

Liza waggled a finger at her in return. “He would stick around if he found the right girl.”

Mona wrinkled her nose.

Liza licked her finger and drew an imaginary line in the air. “One point for me. Don’t tell me I don’t know my best friend.”
She leaned close. “At least it gives me some guidelines to pray for.”

Mona shot her a fake glare. “Don’t hold your breath

.I’m not looking.”

Liza nodded, her dark eyes swimming with mischief.

“Right.”

Mona sat on the window seat, watching the moon splice the lake in one silver stream. She sighed and hugged her legs to her
chest. Her conversation with Liza an hour ago replayed like a scratched record in her head. Unfortunately, her friend was
right—she was picky and scared. For those reasons she had been avoiding anything close and personal with a fella for years

Not that the desire for a husband to hold her didn’t rear its desperate head on an occasional starlit night, but love was
just too intimate, too exposing. The last thing she needed was a man scrutinizing her heart or running roughshod over her
dreams. Only God knew her deepest desires, and that was terrifying enough.

No, Mona didn’t need anyone—not a rumpled know-it- all handyman and certainly not perfect Mr. Whitney.

“There’s a man downstairs!” Liza’s voice scrambled up the stairs just seconds before her feet. Mona covered her head with
her pillow and groaned. She’d forgotten to mention their new handyman to her roommate.

Liza threw open Mona’s door, breathing hard from her sprint upstairs. “I found a guy in the backyard,” she wheezed. Mona peeked
out from under the pillow. An impish grin lit up Liza’s face. She scampered to Mona’s bedside, plunking her chin down on the
mattress, her eyes level with Mona’s. “And he’s cute.”

Mona threw the pillow at her and climbed out of bed, reaching for her robe. “He’s our new handyman.”Slipping the robe on,
she tied the belt and gave Liza a stern look. “Don’t get attached; he’s not staying long.”

Liza produced a dramatic pout. “He could serve coffee?”

“Don’t bet on it. Just what I need, a third partner. I have enough problems with you and your mud.”

Liza threw the pillow back. “It’s called pottery.”

“Yeah, whatever. I used to dig up the stuff at construction sites in our old neighborhood. I made some great pots too. Only
mine didn’t sell for thirty bucks a shot.”

Liza wiggled her fingers. “Gotta have the touch.”

Mona rolled her eyes. “Go entertain our new handyman. His name is Joe. I’ll be down in a jiffy.”

“With pleasure.” Liza waltzed out the door.

The sound of a motor roaring to life disintegrated the rest of her prayer. Mona leaped to her feet and raced to the window.
The sun had cleared the horizon, and the house stretched out in a languorous shadow across the dark green lawn. Mona’s heart
pulsed with joy as she watched her new handyman run a lawn mower over the crisp, calf-high grass. Wearing a faded red sweatshirt
and a royal blue baseball cap backwards, he was hunched over, pushing the mower hard through the jungle. Warmth spread through
her. She hadn’t even thought of the outside appearance yet. Maybe he would be some help, after all, in making her dreams come
true.

Liza sat on the yellow kitchen counter, cradling a mug of coffee in her hands when Mona came into the kitchen.“Come help me
dig out the stuff in the shed. I found some definite keepers yesterday.”

Mona hummed in response. She bent over the counter, grabbed the crumpled remains of a donut bag, and began to scribble madly.

“What are you doing?” Liza asked.

“Making a to-do list.”

“That’s a novel.”

Mona glanced up and smiled slyly. “He’s mowing the lawn. I didn’t even know we had a mower.”

“It was in the shed. Along with a great many other useful items, like an old rolltop desk and a wicker chair.”

Mona hummed again, this time in interest. “Okay. I’ll be out in a second.” She bent back over the list.

When Mona stepped outside, the day greeted her with golden sunshine breaking through a cirrus-scattered sky and the heady
fragrance of fresh-cut grass. A spring breeze sang in the lilac tree next to the garage, and a grouping of fir that shaded
the back shed replied in melody. Mona drank deeply and tasted peace.

A crash shattered the air.

Mona ran toward the shed and spotted Liza stumbling from the building, covered in soot. “Found an old woodstove,” Liza muttered.

Mona bit her lip to stifle a laugh. It didn’t work. She swaddled her stomach with her arms. “You’re a chimney sweep!” she
howled.

Liza glared at her. Then she swept Mona into a hug.

“Get away from me!” Mona sputtered.

Liza grinned, her white teeth a striking contrast to her soot-covered skin. “Just trying to share the happiness.”

Mona examined her formerly clean pink flannel shirt and winced. “Okay, wiseacre, let’s get to work.”

Inside, the shed smelled of cinders, dust, and old lawn clippings. Mona wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I thought they cleaned
this out.”