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He leaned the new ladder she’d ordered against the side of his truck and hefted the five gallon cans of plastering compound and primer.
Skirting the rotten wood, he climbed the stairs and set the cans beside the front door. The doorbell, a round crank set in the wall, rang loud enough to be heard in the next block.
Within moments, he saw her through the beveled glass window set in the middle of the door. She wore baggy old jeans and a big shirt. He missed yesterday’s outfit.
Julie opened the door and raised an eyebrow. “Hello, cowboy.”
He grinned at her and tipped his hat. “Afternoon, Miss Kerns.” He’d forgotten how pretty she was.
“Please, it’s Julie.” She didn’t seem surprised that he knew her name.
“I’m Tony. Tony Graham.”
She gave him that great smile of hers, then glanced down and spotted the cans. “Do you work at the hardware store?”
“No, ma’am. Just doing Cliff a favor. His wife took the truck to Redding to do some shopping.”
Tony hoisted the cans and she stood aside so he could enter. “Where do you want these?”
“Upstairs. But you can leave them right there.”
“I’ll take them up for you. Lead the way.”
He enjoyed the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs ahead of him.
She turned into one of the front bedrooms. He set the cans inside the door. She’d been busy. All the furniture had been pushed into the middle of the room and covered with a tarp.
Tony gave a low whistle when he looked up and saw the water damage to the ceiling and walls. Big chunks of plaster were missing. “Roof?”
She nodded. “Yes. Bessie hated to spend money and waited until the leak got really bad before she had it repaired.”
He nodded. Lots of people put off work, then ended up paying more. He didn’t understand their logic.
Dubious that a novice had a chance of doing a decent plaster job, Tony wandered over to a damaged wall and turned to eye the book she held. “You ever do any plaster repair?”
“Not yet.” She slapped the book she was holding closed and set it on top of the tarp, then put her hands on her hips.
She sure did look determined.
She studied him for so long he wanted to squirm. Then she squared her shoulder as if she had made a decision and asked, “Have you had lunch?”
It took him a moment to react. He didn’t expect the question. “No. I was just about to take a break.” His lunch was in his truck.
“Good. Have lunch with me.”
Tony was both surprised and pleased at her invitation. He had been trying to decide how to ask her out. Now they could get acquainted over a sandwich at the kitchen table.
“Sure. That would be great.”
“I have to warn you, I have an ulterior motive.”
Tony raised an eyebrow as a quick fantasy shot through his mind.
She tapped her book with a slender forefinger. “I want to pick your brain about plastering techniques.”
Oh, well, he thought, feeling a little deflated, at least she wanted to have lunch with him.
He followed her downstairs and instead of turning toward the back of the house where he assumed the kitchen would be, she went out the front door.
“We’re going out?”
Julie looked back at him over her shoulder with a smile. “My treat. I don’t cook.”
He wanted to ask her why not. Cooking was basic for existing as far as he was concerned. Did she eat all her meals out? It seemed a little too soon to ask. Some women got so prickly when a guy asked questions like that.
“Okay.” He wasn’t comfortable with her picking up the tab even if it was her idea, but they could discuss that when the time came.
Tony closed the front door behind him and walked with her a half block until they hit Main Street. They chatted about how the town had not changed at all in the years since she had left.
“Village Bakery okay with you?”
“Sure.” He’d eat the lunch in his truck for supper.
They found a table and gave the waitress their order.
Julie smiled at him and he went warm all over. What a beauty, with her streaked brown hair and blue-green eyes. He smiled back and noticed she had flecks of gold in her eyes that matched the streaks in her hair.
“Now, about plastering.”
He didn’t care why she had invited him to lunch. If she smiled at him like that she could have anything she wanted. “What do you need to know?”
She shrugged. “Everything.”
Tony laughed loudly enough that everyone in the bakery turned to look at the two of them.
“You sure you want to do this yourself? I’d be glad to help.” He could take some time off from building his house.
She hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the table, then back up at him. “No, thanks. I’m going to do it myself, but I’m not above wangling a few tips. How did you learn to do plastering?”
“My dad and I built the house my folks live in now when I was a teenager. He was in construction before he started ranching.”
“Do your parents live around here?”
“No. Wyoming.”
“How did you come to live in Ferndale?”
He felt a quick stab of the familiar pain associated with the accident, Jimmy’s death, and how he had come to be where he was. “I inherited a piece of property just outside of town. I’m building my own place there now.”
The waitress set their sandwiches in front of them. He thanked her and between bites, steered the conversation back to plastering. He told Julie everything he could think of that would help her do the job.
She asked a few questions, then mentioned her grandmother again, commenting on all the stuff she still needed to clean out.
He eyed her curiously. “You called your grandmother by her first name?”
Her expressive blue-green eyes became shuttered for a moment, then she gave him a rueful smile. “Bessie never liked being called Grandma.”
Tony tucked that bit of information away to ponder later.
“You have a lot of work to do on the place before you move in.” He hadn’t missed the peeling wallpaper and chipped paint.
She laughed. “I’m moved in, but it’s temporary. As soon as I can get the placed fixed up, it goes on the market and I go home.”
“Where’s home?” He didn’t like the thought of her leaving Ferndale. He had plans to get to know her better.
A lot better.
“Los Angeles.”
He couldn’t think of a worse place to live. “Why?”
She raised a finely arched eyebrow. “Why what?”
“Why do you live there?” It must be for her job.
She laughed. “Because I like it. Why do you live in Ferndale?”
He grinned at her. “Because I like it.” Or at least he would when he could move into his own home.
“What do you do in L.A.?” He wondered what kind of job would keep her there.
“I teach high school. English.”
The waitress brought the bill and they both reached for it. “I invited you.” Julie jerked the slip of paper out of his hand.
“Half?” He didn’t let women buy him meals. It might be old-fashioned, but it didn’t set right.
“No. Then I’ll feel guilty for picking your brain the whole time we ate.”
Tony shrugged, then thought of a plan. “Okay. But only if you agree to have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
Julie watched him for a minute. He sensed her hesitation, then she gave him another of her great smiles. “Deal.”
He watched her walk up to the counter to pay.
He’d never had a teacher who looked like Ms. Kerns. The boys in her classes probably had a hard time keeping their minds on the subject matter when she was standing in front of the class.
He stood up and pulled two bills out of his pocket for the tip. She saw him leave the money on the table and rolled her eyes.
They walked back to her house in companionable silence.
He glanced over at her. She could teach anywhere. Why would she choose to live in a big smelly city like Los Angeles? Maybe a guy kept her there. He didn’t like the thought.
“So you teach English. Fond of the classics?” He liked her hair. So many different shades of brown.
She shrugged. “I’m fond of all kinds of books.”
He had been, too, once. He had devoured books, losing himself for hours in them. Since the accident he had to struggle to read, and the frustration ruined the pleasure.
When they got to her place Tony unloaded the rest of her order and carried a ladder and bag of small hand tools upstairs. The banister was loose and needed bracing.
He found Julie leaning against a piece of covered furniture, holding her how-to book and frowning.
“You need me to stay?” He glanced over at the book she studied. Doing plaster work took some skill. Even with everything he’d told her he was skeptical that she could manage alone.
“Nope.” She glanced up from the page she studied and smiled. “Remember? I’m going to do it myself.”
He wondered why she was so stubborn about not having help. He’d be willing to take time off from working on his own house. He didn’t say anything. From the set of her shoulders and the jut of her chin it was obvious she was intent on tackling the job herself.
He’d give her the rest of the day to see how hard the job was, then come back and see if she’d changed her mind about his help.
He reached into the bag and pulled out the goggles and dust mask he had purchased and added to her order.
“Come over here.” Tony motioned to her.
When she hesitated, he said, “Just more friendly advice.”
She shrugged and moved to his side. Her hair smelled like lemons, and he fought the urge to lean closer and inhale.
He positioned her under the worst of the damage, liking the feel of her warm skin under her cotton shirt.
Reluctantly he let go of her and pointed to the ceiling. “Always wear these.” He held up the mask and goggles. “They’ll get in your way, but you’ll get used to them. Be sure to chip off all the stained plaster. Otherwise, the stain will bleed through your new paint.”
“Okay.” She glanced up to the ceiling and back to his face.
Tony handed over the safety equipment and wanted to reach for her, the urge to kiss her strong.
He pulled back. Whoa, way too soon for a move like that, he thought. Instead he stepped away and opened the ladder, positioning it under a gaping hole in the ceiling. “Good luck.”
As he turned to leave, she said, “’Bye, Tony. And thanks.”
“Anytime. Thanks for lunch.” He gave her a smile before he started down the stairs.
Julie watched him go, then glanced down at the goggles and mask dangling from her fingers. His concern about her safety touched her.
She ran a finger over the ridges in the blue mask. The handsome man had some kind of problem with speech comprehension and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She’d noticed how he’d watched her face intently as she spoke, and then there would be a bit of lag time before he replied. She didn’t think he was deaf, but perhaps she was wrong and he was reading lips.
Curiosity got the better of her and she went out to the upstairs landing and leaned over the rail just as he opened the front door.
