Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday Family\Sugar Plum Season\Her Cowboy Hero\Small-Town Fireman (22 page)

As he made his way toward the edge of town, the pavement gave way to gravel, and he turned in by the sign Jenna had made to mark the very first business in town: Barrett's Sawmill, Est. 1866. He felt a quick jolt of pride, recalling how his older brother, Paul, had left his wandering ways behind and come back to reopen the bankrupt family business. Now a humming custom-furniture manufacturer, they made things by hand the old-fashioned way, in a mill powered by its original waterwheel.

It was a far cry from the lumber camps Jason had been working at the past couple of years. About half as exciting, he mused as he parked next to Chelsea's silver convertible, but way safer. Before he'd even closed the driver's door, baying echoed from behind the mill house, and a huge red bloodhound raced out to meet him.

“Hey there, Boyd.” He laughed as the dog leaped up to give him the canine version of a high five. “What's shakin'?”

The dog barked in reply, letting him go and racing around him in circles all the way up to the front porch. Inside, Jason paused outside the office's half door and waved in at his newest sister-in-law. “Hey, Chelsea. How're the numbers looking this week?”

Beaming, she gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “I love Christmas shoppers. They need things fast, and they're willing to pay extra for quick delivery.”

Jason groaned, only half joking. “Sounds like we're gonna get real busy.”

“I wouldn't take up any new hobbies,” Paul advised from the open sliding door that led into the rear of the mill. Wiping grease from his hands on a rag, he went on. “This is supposed to be your last Saturday off till the end of the year. What're you doing here?”

“Making a Christmas tree.”

Chelsea laughed. “Doesn't God already take care of that?”

While Jason explained what he was up to, he kept things vague to avoid creating the wrong impression about his situation with Amy. Despite his best efforts, though, Paul's expression grew increasingly suspicious.

“Uh-huh.” Dragging it out longer than usual, he folded his arms in disapproval. “Now, how 'bout the truth?”

“That
is
the truth,” Jason insisted, as much for himself as his nosy brother. “The lady wants a tree and a nice arch overtop, so I'm making them for her. And for the kids. They're working hard on their show, and they deserve a big audience. I figured it's a nice, Christmassy thing to do.”

“It's very nice.” With her kitten, Daisy, cradled in her arms, Chelsea came out to back him up. Sending a stern look at her husband, she smiled at Jason. “I'm sure she really appreciates your help.”

“Don't encourage him,” Paul cautioned her. “He's got a weakness for pretty faces and sad stories.”

“I do not,” Jason protested. Paul raised an eyebrow at him, and he decided it was pointless to argue. “Okay, you're right, but this time's different.”

“How?”

He didn't want to lie, but it wasn't his place to air her personal history, so he hedged, “Amy was advertising for a carpenter to replace Fred, and the job's easy enough. Everyone else in the family does work for the church or charities this time of year, and I've been looking for a way to pitch in somewhere.”

“You've been doing that ever since you moved in with Gram and Granddad.” Paul rested a hand on his shoulder with a proud smile. “His cancer's getting worse every day, and she needs your help after Mom goes home for the night. We're all grateful to you for stepping up like that.”

The praise settled well, and Jason smiled back. “That's why this project is so great. Working at Amy's, I'll be five minutes away if they need me. The show's the week before Christmas, so my part'll be over soon enough.”

“You realize you're doing an awful lot of work for a woman you met—” Pausing, he chuckled. “When did you meet her, anyway?”

“This morning, after you and I had breakfast at the Whistlestop. She was decorating out front of the dance place, and since she's new in town, I went over to say hi.” When Paul leveled one of those big-brother looks at him, Jason let out a frustrated growl. “You're acting like I proposed or something.”

“Well...”

“That was a long time ago,” Jason reminded him, poking him in the chest for emphasis. “I learned my lesson with her, and I've got no plans for making that mistake again anytime soon.”

“I have to ask,” Chelsea interrupted. “Who on earth are you talking about?”

“Rachel McCarron,” Jason replied with a wry grin. “It didn't work out.”

“That little minx took off with your best friend and your truck,” Paul reminded him, as if he'd lost his memory or something. “Oh, and the ring. Nice girl.”

“Whatever.”

Paul opened his mouth, then closed it almost immediately. Jason didn't understand why until he noticed the chilly stare Paul was getting from his wife. It reminded him of Amy's disapproving looks, and he smothered a grin. He'd never had the opportunity to compare one woman with another this way. If he could somehow figure out what was going on in their heads, it might actually be entertaining.

“Fine.” With a look that was half smile and half grimace, Paul stepped back to let Jason into the working area of the mill. “Whattaya need?”

Chapter Three

M
onday morning crept by at a pace that would have embarrassed the slowest turtle on earth. Banished to her office at the rear of the studio by her carpenter, Amy chafed impatiently and tried not to check the old schoolhouse clock on the wall every two seconds.

She was dying to see what he'd come up with for the entryway. Before she went completely bonkers, she decided it was better to distract herself until he was finished. She could use the free time to inventory her costume collection, assessing what Aunt Helen had on hand so she could determine what they needed to buy for the cast.

Because the studio had been built on her aunt's stellar reputation as a dance instructor, Amy had insisted Aunt Helen remain a silent partner in the business. So every decision was a “they” situation, which was new for someone who'd spent most of her life focused on her own career. It was one of many changes Amy had encountered since coming back to Barrett's Mill after so many years away.

Like Jason Barrett.

The man couldn't be any more different from her ex, and she couldn't help but compare the two. A dancer himself, Devon hadn't been able to cope with the somber prospect of being shackled to a wife who was so limited physically. He bolted shortly after her grim final diagnosis, taking his great-grandmother's engagement ring with him.

Since then, the men who'd crossed her path had been either medical professionals or old friends who viewed her as more of a younger sister than a romantic interest. Heartbroken by Devon's betrayal, her new hands-off status with the male species actually suited her just fine. She had no intention of letting another one close enough to hurt her by taking off just when she needed him most.

Not that Jason fell into that category, she reminded herself as she eased out of her chair. In a few short days, he'd proven himself not only respectful but dependable, two qualities she valued in anyone. On her way into the storeroom, she made several attempts to classify him based on other guys she'd known, but came up empty. Then she heard his teasing voice in her mind.

And here I thought we were friends.

Smiling to herself, she decided he was indeed her friend, one she might enjoy getting to know better. After all, she mused as she began pairing up satin slippers, you never knew when a big, strong carpenter might come in handy.

From the doorway, she heard a low whistle and turned to find him staring into the oversize closet. “It looks like a cotton-candy machine blew up in here.”

The comment was so spot-on, she couldn't help laughing. “I guess it does. That's what happens when you cast too many sugar-plum fairies.”

“How many extra do you have?”

Glancing up, she quickly did the math. “Ten, I think.”

“Why didn't you just make them something else? Save yourself a little netting?”

“Because all the girls wanted to be Clara or a sugar-plum fairy. For this production, no one's en pointe, and only Heidi Peterson could manage the basics for Clara. That means I need lots of these,” she added, fluffing the layers of pink tulle hanging on the rack.

Something in his expression shifted, and he took a step inside the cramped room. “You mean, you adjusted the traditional cast so they could play the roles they wanted?”

“Of course. They're kids, and it's Christmas.” Baffled by his reaction to her scaled-down production, she frowned. “Why?”

“Because that's the last thing I'd expect from a perfectionist like you.”

The gold in his eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn't begin to define, and she found herself caught up in the hypnotic warmth of his gaze. He didn't move toward her, but his imposing presence filled the room with something that was more than physical. In a jolt of understanding, she recognized that it came from a heart so generous, he'd volunteered his time and talents to a stranger simply because she needed his help. Instinctively, she knew he was someone who treated people well as a matter of principle, not as a means to an end.

The kind of man who'd treasure the woman fortunate enough to be the one he loved.

That realization struck her with a certainty so powerful, it actually knocked her back a step. Trying to regain her perspective, she dragged her eyes away and made a show of hunting for the slipper that matched the one still clutched in her hand. “Did you need something?”

“Your stamp of approval.” Cocking his arm, he offered it to her with a bright grin. “Wanna come see?”

She did, very much, but she was hesitant to take his arm. Since she couldn't come up with a way to refuse it politely, she fell back on logic. “That's sweet, but we can't fit through that door side by side.”

“Got me there. Ladies first, then.”

The way he kept referring to her as a lady made Amy want to giggle, and she firmly tamped down the impulse. He was obviously trying to charm her, but it would work only if she let it. She'd handled many situations like this in the past, and she was well aware that keeping him at a safe distance was the best approach.

But it wasn't half as much fun as going along, she admitted with a muted sigh. Being sensible could be such a killjoy. Before they turned the corner to enter the front section of the studio, he abruptly stopped walking.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, standing on tiptoe to look past him. Big as he was, she couldn't see a thing, and she started to worry. “It all fell down, didn't it?”

“That's insulting,” he informed her with a good-natured chuckle, “but since you don't know me very well, I'll let you get by with it. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“So you'll be surprised.”

He said that as if it should have been obvious to her, and she felt a twinge of regret for not sharing his enthusiasm for what he'd built. She was the one who'd asked him to do it, and she knew she should be more excited. Sadly, since her dream of dancing had ended up wrapped around a light pole outside D.C., it was all she could do to keep trudging forward.

“I'm not very fond of surprises,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “I much prefer it when things go according to plan.”

Most of the people she knew would bristle at that or chide her for being a control freak. But not this guy. Instead, he gave her an encouraging smile. “My sister-in-law, Chelsea, used to be like that before Paul showed her how much fun she was missing.”

“I don't see what that has to do with me.”

“Just that folks can change, is all. Now, close your eyes.”

She couldn't understand why it meant so much to him, but he'd put in a lot of work and hadn't charged her a dime. The least she could do was humor him. “Okay, they're closed.”

Unfortunately, that threw off her equilibrium, and she felt as if she was going to fall. The sensation was alarming, and she clutched his arm more tightly to maintain her balance. It reminded her of the torturous first steps after the surgery that had shored up her spine but ended her career, and she felt a cold sweat breaking out on her face.

“You're all right, Amy,” Jason murmured in a gentle drawl near her ear. “I've got you.”

Sure enough, he was bracing her with one strong arm, and she was stunned to find it wasn't scary at all. Not trusting herself to speak without a whimper, she nodded and let him lead her through the studio and out the front door.

Crisp, cool air greeted her, and she fought off a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather. That was the scent she'd noticed on Jason the first day they met, fresh and outdoorsy. Something told her that from now on whenever she was caught outside on a winter day, she'd think of him.

Deliberately pulling her mind back to practical things, she asked, “Can I look now?”

“Go ahead.”

She opened her eyes, then blinked in total disbelief. He'd mentioned something about adding a tree and an archway, but this was way beyond anything she could have imagined even on her best day.

The simple arch she'd envisioned had become a full-fledged arbor, twined with greenery and twinkling white lights. The tree wasn't made of wood, but was a seven-foot-tall artificial spruce with more lights and a multipointed crystal star on top. Gifts wrapped in gold and silver paper were clustered around the base, and one box looked as if it had spilled open to show off a collection of wooden soldiers like the ones that would march onstage in a few short weeks.

On the left side was her nutcracker. Sort of. The static sign Jenna had made now swung from hooks that allowed it to move in the breeze. The new arrangement made him look as if he was dancing. Awestruck by the combined effect of all those Christmassy elements, she was convinced a professional designer couldn't have devised a better representation of the popular holiday ballet.

Apparently, there was more to the towering lumberjack than axes and hammers. Who would have guessed that? Astounded by the results, she stared up at Jason in disbelief. “You did this?”

“Yup.” Folding his arms, he cocked his head with an eager expression. “You like it?”

“Are you kidding? I love it!” Forgetting her vow to remain detached, she laughed and gave him a quick hug. “It must've taken you forever. How did you manage to get so much done over the weekend?”

“The tree I made didn't turn out so well. Then I remembered your aunt used to put one up. I found it out back in your storage shed.”

“You mean, the one that's locked and I can't find the key to?”

“That's the one.”

“How did you get it open?” As soon as she finished her question, she had to laugh. “Let me guess. Sledgehammer?”

“Bolt cutters, and I replaced the lock with a new one. The keys are in your office.” Glancing around, he leaned in and murmured, “I made the arbor for my gram's garden. I'm gonna need that back before Christmas.”

Impressed beyond words, she went up to examine it more closely. Flowers and vines were carved into every piece of wood, curling up to meet in the middle of the arch in a heart with a script
B
in the center. “Jason, this is absolutely beautiful. You're incredibly talented.”

He gave her an aw-shucks grin that made him look like an overgrown little boy. “I'm sure you're used to fancier stuff, so it's nice of you to say that. The power box is down here.” He pointed to an open-back square of wood. “The cord runs to your outside receptacle by the front door, and I marked the switch in the lobby that controls it. That way, you can turn everything on and off from inside.”

She was amazed that he'd thought to set it up so she wouldn't have to go out in the cold to shut things down. They barely knew each other, and already he'd come up with a way to make her life easier—and warmer. After fending for herself for so long, she liked knowing he was looking out for her.

Despite her usual reserve, she could no longer deny she was warming up to this irresistible man. “Jason, I don't know what to say. This is way beyond what I was expecting. How can I ever repay you?”

“Another one of those hugs would be cool.”

Laughing because she couldn't help herself, she obliged him, adding a peck on his cold cheek for good measure. Pulling away, she frowned. “You must be freezing, after working out here so long. Would you like some coffee or something to warm you up?”

“That'd be great, thanks.”

“I don't have any made in the office right now, but there's some out back. Come on.”

Again, he motioned for her to go in ahead of him. For years, she'd been living in big, bustling cities where everyone rushed past her as if she didn't exist. It might be old-fashioned of her, but she had to admit she liked Jason's way better.

* * *

Amy's apartment was...not what he'd expected.

Raised by his parents to be respectful above all else, Jason stood awkwardly in the middle of the narrow doorway, trying to come up with something nice to say. Built onto the rear of the studio, it was a single room with a tiny kitchenette and a small bathroom. The walls were raw drywall, and several buckets scattered around the floor alerted him there were leaks in the roof. Unfortunately, that wasn't the worst part. “There's something wrong with the furnace back here. I've been in freezers warmer than this.”

“You have not,” she scoffed.

“I worked for a butcher in Utah for six months, and trust me, his cooler temp wasn't far off this place. How do I get to your utilities?” She blinked up at him, then began casting around as if she had no clue. It shouldn't have been funny, but he couldn't help laughing. “There must be a way to get into the crawl space under the addition. Do you know where it is?”

“I'm sure Uncle Fred does.”

Jason hated to bother the man for something that simple, and he shrugged. “No problem. I'll find it.”

“That's not necessary. I'm hardly ever in here, so it doesn't bother me.”

“Must get cold at night, though.”

After a couple of moments, she relented with a sigh. “Okay, you got me. I sleep on the couch in the office.”

“That can't be good for your back,” he chided her as gently as he could. With an injury like hers, she should have the most supportive mattress she could get, not some lumpy old sofa. “You keep doing that, pretty soon you won't be able to get up in the morning.”

“It's fine,” she said curtly.

“It's not fine, and before I go, I'll make sure you've got heat. While we're at it, have you got any idea where your roof's leaking from?”

“Umm...above?”

A smart aleck, he groaned silently. Just what he needed. Then again, he'd had more fun with her than any other woman he'd met recently. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and fortunately, he didn't have time to ponder it now. “I'll climb up there, too, and find out what's going on. My hunch is you lost a few shingles in that bad storm we had last week, and now the water's getting in. There's some extra roofing stuff in the shed, so I'll do a patch that'll keep things dry in here.”