Right Where He Belongs

Tanner couldn’t imagine his rigid grandfather simmering vanilla for a wife long gone. The ice water in his veins wouldn’t allow such a sentimental ritual.

What had Cassie seen in such an old, manipulative person? Tanner could only think of two explanations: she was just another one of his victims, or a schemer who had gained more than a repair job from the old man.

Tanner made a mental note to check the details of his grandfather’s will. He had no living relatives. Although he wasn’t the sole beneficiary, he couldn’t remember Cassie’s name on the list.

He’d been warned that small towns had no secrets, so he shouldn’t have much trouble finding out more about Cassie. Suspicion was good. Anything was better than dwelling on why he’d felt such relief at discovering she wasn’t a relative.

He didn’t want any complications. For the next thirty days he intended to relax. A former boss, retired and bored, had jumped at the chance to fill in as manager, so for once, the lengthy time away from his company didn’t present a problem.

He’d spend his time getting a feel for what his truck-driver dad’s life must have been like growing up in New Haven, Ohio. From what little he knew, things hadn’t soured for his dad until he defied his father and left town after high school graduation.

Tanner’s mind wondered back to how familiar Cassie seemed with the house. She’d fetched a broom as if she’d done so many times before, had known of his grandfather’s habits and the conditions of the will.

For some reason the familiarity, imagined or not, bothered him. His reaction made no sense whatsoever. He was the one who had ignored every bribe and turned down all invitations to come live in Fairfax House.

Tanner refused to waste another minute on the confusion he felt over being in the huge, dark house again.

“Yoo-hoo,” yelled a high-pitched voice from the front of the house. Rapid pounding followed.

“Now what?” Tanner muttered, and left to answer the front door. He gave the rooms he passed along the way a cursory glance. Elegantly curved furniture filled the formal living room and dining room. Pictures in old-looking frames covered the top of a buffet. To his left, he noted a den that had obviously been turned into a bedroom. He’d stash his gear there, later.

He opened the door and discovered a woman with orange hair piled on top of her head, wearing enough makeup to start her own cosmetics business. Oven mitts covered her hands. Steam escaped from a glass dish of green beans. He took a whiff of the unmistakable aroma of cream of mushroom soup and dried onions and his mouth watered.

“I want to be the first to officially welcome you.” The woman smiled, ducked under his arm that held open the door and zeroed in on the kitchen.

He blinked, floored by the idea that a stranger had just bulldozed her way inside, then quickly followed.

“We’re so sorry about your grandfather,” the stranger said. She placed the dish on one of the burners on the stove and shoved the mitts into apron pockets. “But we’re just tickled to have another Fairfax in this house. It’s Tanner, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m Mrs. Boone, from across the street.” He shook her offered hand. “Mr. Boone would’ve come, too, but he’s recovering from surgery and can’t get around just yet. Your grandfather loved my green bean casserole, so I just know you’ll love it, too. And if you have any questions about New Haven, I’m the town historian. I’ve lived here all my life, so I’ve seen it all.”

“Thanks, but I won’t be here—”

“Why, you’re the spitting image of your daddy. Frankie was quite the charmer.” She leaned toward Tanner. “Not at all like your grandfather. That Frank, Sr. was short on charm, but he was fair and a man of his word.”

Tanner was already weary of the praise for a man who must have hidden his shortcomings from the town. “I see. Well, thanks again, Mrs. Boone.”

“You’re more than welcome. Tell me, are you as full of pluck as your daddy was? ’Cause this town could use shaking up.”

“Frankie, you’re finally home,” a feeble voice called out from behind the screen of the kitchen door. A stooped, white-haired woman shuffled inside.

Mrs. Boone placed her hand on the old woman’s elbow. “Oh, no, Mrs. Johnson. Frankie and Susan passed away years ago in that horrible car accident, remember?”

“Nonsense, child. I’d know that hair and those eyes anywhere. Why did you stay away so long, Frankie?”

A mixture of emotions jackhammered Tanner. The warmth and joy in the stranger’s voice, the lines of concern and compassion on her face, and the fact that she’d obviously known and liked his father caused Tanner’s throat to grow tight. He swallowed hard. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he craved to know the details of his parents’ childhoods.

“The town hasn’t been the same since you left, dear boy.”

Tanner had no idea how to respond to the woman without confusing her more, so he played along. He smiled. “How have you been, Mrs. Johnson?”

She sighed. “Teaching isn’t what it used to be. No respect, no joy of learning. Your daddy thought you could scare kids into doing the right thing, or at the very least bribe them. But I daresay I disagree. Where is the rascal, anyway?”

A sad smile crossed Mrs. Boone’s face. “Mrs. Johnson was the best math teacher New Haven High ever had. She lives just across the alley. On her good days she liked to come over to spar with your grandfather. You could hear those two all the way downtown. Obviously, today isn’t a good day. Come on, Mrs. Johnson, I’ll walk you home.”

Tanner looked forward to a good day when they could go back in time together. “I’ll drop by for a visit sometime, if that’s okay with you, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Any time, dear boy. It’s time I have plenty of.”

Mrs. Boone led the stooped woman toward the door. “Oh, look, Tanner!” Mrs. Boone said over her shoulder. “You’ve got more company. And you’re in luck. Looks like Miss Eva brought cinnamon rolls. One whiff, and you’ll agree they’re to die for.”

His warm, nostalgic mood evaporated at the sight of several strangers approaching the house. He worried he was caught in the Father Knows Best version of The Twilight Zone. What else explained why strangers felt free to wander into his house, or why people admired a jerk like his grandfather?

No matter. He knew the man for what he really was—a scheming, coldhearted tyrant.

Every citizen in New Haven could line up at his door with gifts and kind words about his grandfather. Tanner didn’t care; he’d ignore them all.

And he for damn sure wouldn’t give in to any interest or attraction he might feel toward Cassie Leighton.

Chapter Two

Cassie cradled the grocery sacks against her chest and hurried across the street. A quick glance at Tanner’s truck revealed it hadn’t budged since she’d left Fairfax House earlier that afternoon. A single light in the old house led her to believe he was home. Good. She hated to think she’d wasted time deciding what to wear for nothing. She’d fretted less for a date, for Pete’s sake.

But she had to walk a fine line. Tanner was not only a customer and a neighbor, but someone Mr. Frank had entrusted her to look after. So, she’d chosen comfortable jeans, a white sleeveless blouse, sandals and her denim floppy hat. Casual, but a step up from shorts and T-shirt with her company logo.

She shifted the stuffed paper bags in her arms and tapped the door with her foot. “Come on, Tanner,” she mumbled. “Open the door.” On a mission to welcome him to the neighborhood, she also hoped her gifts would make him realize how much she’d loved and respected his grandfather.

Unfortunately, she had another, less pure motive for such a quick return visit: Tanner had filled her thoughts all day.

After she’d left Fairfax House, she had stopped by the office to log in any deliveries and bring home the mail. For the remainder of the afternoon she had helped her crew install light fixtures at a job site. Thank goodness the routine work hadn’t required her full attention.

All her life, Cassie had been told she had too much curiosity, so her job proved the perfect fit. She saw hidden treasures in old, beaten-up things. Stripping paint from a piece of furniture to expose the natural beauty underneath was a joy, not a chore.

So, why wouldn’t a man such as Tanner, unlike the other men in New Haven, fascinate her? He had more walls built up around him than the mansion he’d inherited, which probably explained why he’d never had a long-term relationship with a woman.

Too bad for him that she lived to tear down walls. But, of course, she had no personal motives. She just had to know him better in order to figure out how to convince him to stay.

She gently kicked at the door again. Still no answer.

Movement in the nearest window caught her attention. The door slowly opened. “Come in. Hurry,” Tanner whispered.

“What’s wrong?” she asked with forced nonchalance. Curiosity over his odd behavior battled with her unwillingness to appear too eager to see him again. Unfazed by the darkness, she headed for the kitchen. She could find her way around the house blindfolded, had done so many times during games of Blind Man’s Bluff with her sister. “You act like you’re in hiding.”

A dimmed swag light revealed the kitchen table crammed with foil-covered dishes and platters. Her mouth watered at the unmistakable aroma of Mrs. Boone’s green bean casserole, Mr. Dunne’s barbequed chicken and Miss Eva’s cinnamon rolls, along with many other specialties just as familiar.

Cassie made room on the table for the sacks. She tore her glance away from the enticing spread and studied Tanner, only to discover something even more tempting—vulnerability.

“You bet I’m hiding, Cassie. I haven’t had a minute’s peace since I set foot into this house. People have been coming out of the woodwork in droves. Look at all this.” He gestured at the food, then glanced back at her. “I didn’t even notice you had the sacks or I would’ve carried them for you. Sorry. It’s just that I’m…I’m…”

“Flustered?” The corners of her mouth involuntarily turned upward. Nothing was more adorable than a flustered male. Adorable? Tanner? She didn’t want to go there. “Surely you’ve been in small towns before. We pride ourselves on friendliness.”

“I’ve worked in hundreds, but never lived in one.”

“Hundreds? That’s a lot of traveling. What kind of work do you do?” Although she already knew the answer, she wanted Tanner to talk about himself. Something told her that he’d be furious to know an investigator had reported on most aspects of his life.

“Carpentry. And I own a construction company.”

When Cassie had first learned of Tanner’s chosen field, she had felt an instant kinship with him, sight unseen. Now that she’d met him, so restless, closed off, and full of anger, she knew not to read anything into the fact they both owned their own company and enjoyed working with their hands. He had the most beautiful hands, large and tanned….

She shook her head and forced herself to focus on her plan. If he wanted to be truly happy, Tanner needed to understand the importance of roots and accept his birthright. “Construction must be in the blood. That’s how Mr. Frank got his start. Residential, mostly. Then he expanded with businesses related to construction—a hardware store, remodeling and repair. But I guess you already know that.”

“I’m strictly commercial.” Tanner folded his arms against his chest and his muscles strained against the fabric of his shirt. “I know all I need to know about my grandfather. He was used to getting his own way.”

Tanner was bullheaded. Just like his grandfather. “Yes, well, most successful people are. And if you don’t know it already, the remodeling business I own belonged to your grandfather until two years ago.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s pretty young to buy and think you can run your own business.”

“Twenty-three isn’t that young when you consider I had worked for your grandfather for nine years before that. My father had left me a little money, so between that and a loan, I was able to offer Mr. Frank a fair price. You can check the papers you got from Mr. Samuels.”

“I don’t care about any of that.” Tanner ran a hand through his thick black hair and paced, his boots pounding against the hardwood floor. “This is what I don’t get.” He gestured at the food. “What do these people want from me?”

Cassie’s heart ached from Tanner’s dismissal of his grandfather, a man she had grown to love as surely as if he’d been a blood relative. She had to make Tanner see how much his grandfather cursed his own pride and stubbornness that had driven away family, that he had loved Tanner, regretted not being in his life, and had wanted to make up for the mistakes he’d made. “All these people want is to make you feel welcome, show how much they respected your grandfather.”

“But why would they care what I think? They don’t know me.”

“You’re a Fairfax. That’s all they need to know.” She grabbed the chilled gallon of milk, then the eggs, bread, cheeses and coffee from one sack. From the other, she gently removed a small pot of ivy, napkins and other paper products.

Tanner stopped pacing and stared at her as if she’d swapped the denim hat she wore for a bucket. “It’s that simple?”

“Yep. And I’m warning you, if you haven’t gotten an invitation to dinner from my mother yet, it’s coming.”

“What do you mean? I’ve been in town one day.”

“Like I said, news travels fast.”

“Why would your mother invite me to dinner?”

Cassie smiled patiently. “She went to school with your dad. They were sweethearts once. Later on, Mom took care of your grandmother until she died, and then did the same for your grandfather. They treated Mom, my sister and me like family.”

He shook his head and frowned. “I just don’t get it.”

“You will. Eventually.” At least, Cassie hoped that someday soon he’d realize family and roots meant everything. She carried the plant over to the sink and placed the ivy on the window ledge above it.

“Is that some kind of plant? What are you doing?”

“Someone threw out the plants that used to be in here. So, I brought a replacement.” She untangled the vines and smiled. Perfect. “The kitchen looks more cozy already.”

“Cozy? I don’t care about cozy. And I certainly can’t take it with me, since I’m never home.”

She could almost see the protective walls form around him. “I can’t imagine not wanting a place to feel like home, even for a little while.” But then, she decorated the inside of her van.

“Look, home is just an apartment where I collect the mail and clean clothes and that’s the way I like it.”

Cassie guessed that finding himself completely alone at seventeen had shattered any illusions about home and hearth. Although nothing could bring back his parents, she could help him connect to a part of his family he’d never known. But first, he needed to forgive his grandfather.

Boy, did she ever have her work cut out for her. “Fine,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll take care of the plant for you.” She held up a can of coffee. “I didn’t know what brand, but guessed you at least wanted caffeine.”

“Definitely.” His expression even more puzzled, he approached the table. “How much do I owe you for the groceries?” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

She waved away the offer. “If you pay, then I’ll have to assume that because my gift isn’t homemade it doesn’t measure up. I’m not much of a cook or a baker, so I can’t compete with all this wonderful food.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Good.” She grinned. “Here’s rule number two in a small town—when someone is nice to you, a simple thank you is enough.”

She expected some sort of resistance, either a rationalization to pay, or even the return of his earlier wariness. Instead, his dark gaze grew warm, the firm lines of his mouth softened. His expression held something that unnerved her even more—interest.

Tanner snapped out of his flustered fog, jolted by Cassie’s lighthearted explanation of why he should put back his wallet. She could have just as easily pouted or acted insulted by his offer of money. How refreshing. He smiled. “Thank you.”

Her eyes grew wide, her face flushed. She fidgeted with the denim hat that covered most of her rich brown hair. Not many women pulled off wearing hats, in his opinion, but it looked natural on Cassie.

“You—you’re welcome.”

In fact, he suspected she’d look good in just about anything. Tonight, instead of overalls, faded jeans outlined dangerous curves. A sleeveless blouse revealed well-defined arms. Bright-pink toenails poked out of sandals, the vivid, feminine color a further reminder that she was all woman.

As if he could forget.

She inched backward toward the kitchen door. “I—I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night,” she said, then left.

Tanner walked over to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He untucked his shirt and used it as a towel, hoping to also wipe away the image now firm in his mind of Cassie’s tempting package of curves and muscle, firmness and warmth.

Damn. He wanted to see Cassie as just a hired hand, not a woman. She was too sentimental and emotional. Tears had threatened at the mention of his power-hungry grandfather. She’d reacted to a smile and a thank you the way some women responded to a compliment or flowers.

Yes, he had derived satisfaction from managing to fluster her. And he couldn’t deny he was glad, even grateful, to discover that she also felt the chemistry between them. But he’d ignore the attraction. One reason had brought him to New Haven—to inherit the house in order to sell it.

Thirty days and counting. After that, the entire town could swarm Fairfax House. He’d be gone.

Saturday morning at nine o’clock sharp, Cassie knocked on the kitchen door of Fairfax House and braced herself to see Tanner again. She just hoped he wouldn’t mention her frazzled state last night, which had been entirely his fault. His unexpected smile had softened his features and reminded her of how moments earlier she’d found him adorable. Then he’d given her that look.

Once home and in her own bed, she’d tossed and turned for hours. Had she imagined the curiosity in his gaze? If her instincts were correct, would any interest on his part prove a complication or an asset in her attempt to convince him to remain at Fairfax House?

No. The tantalizing notion wouldn’t get another thought. Besides just being plain wrong to capitalize on whatever chemistry existed between them, she’d never been one to do things the easy way.

The aroma of strong coffee and cinnamon streamed through the screen door and made serious thinking difficult. Her mouth watered, her stomach grumbled, and she silently cursed her weakness for sweets. She didn’t need any distractions.

She wanted something from Tanner Fairfax, something she could almost taste, the way she could already taste the perfect blend of cinnamon and sugars in Miss Eva’s famous rolls. She didn’t care if Tanner acted bitter, suspicious, flustered or even flirty. She’d deal with whatever he threw at her.

“Come in.” He held the door open.

“Thanks.” She stepped inside. Her determination to act naturally took a nosedive at the sight of Tanner, obviously fresh out of the shower. Drops of water clung to his hair. A navy T-shirt outlined his broad chest. Gray gym shorts revealed tanned, lean, muscular legs.

So, her customer was attractive. Not a problem.

She swallowed hard and forced her thoughts back to business. “Before I forget, another customer still has my wallpaper books. I can have them here in a day or so, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” The door banged shut as he walked across the kitchen, his weathered sneakers silent on the tiled floor. “How about coffee and a roll before you start? This good food shouldn’t go to waste.” He nodded at two places already set with paper plates and napkins at the kitchen table.

She didn’t know what to make of his almost formal manner, the polite smile. Not a smidgen of curiosity. Apparently, she’d tossed and turned for no reason last night.

She was okay with that, though. Polite, she could handle. “Only a fool would turn down that offer.” She took a seat, determined to keep things light, friendly, but still professional, in order to win his trust.

“Butter?” he asked.

With a guilty start she shook her head and turned her thoughts to the safer topic of breakfast. She unwound a portion of the roll coated with homemade icing, tore off a piece and popped it in her mouth.

“Heaven,” she murmured, savoring the sinfully rich confection, heavy on the cinnamon and some other blend of spices which remained Miss Eva’s secret. Bit by bit, she unraveled the roll, enjoying each delicious bite.

She glanced up to find Tanner staring at her. “What’s wrong? Do I have a frosting mustache or something?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “Nothing like that. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone eat a roll like that before.”

“When something is this good, I try to make it last even longer. Don’t worry, though. With wallpapering, I charge by the roll, not the hour.” She wiped her fingers on the napkin next to her plate. Teetering on the edge of sugar overload, she took a sip of coffee as strong as the aroma had promised.

Over the rim of her cup she caught him studying her as if she were a complex blueprint. What had she said or done?

“I’m not worried.” He nudged his plate away, having already inhaled two buttered rolls before she’d finished one. Obviously, he didn’t share her tendency to savor. “I didn’t mean to rush you,” he continued, “you were on time this morning, which is refreshing in itself.”

“I can’t take credit for that. I live across the street in Mrs. Boone’s upstairs apartment.”

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Seems like I was recently told that when someone says something nice to you, a simple thank you is enough.”

She smiled, surprised and much too pleased by his sudden shift from impersonal politeness to friendly bantering. “A quick study. I like that. And you got points last night for not commenting on the fact that I don’t cook or bake.”

“Big deal. I’ve never spent any time in a kitchen, either.”

“But my mom and sister put Martha Stewart to shame.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.” She much preferred this relaxed version of Tanner over the guarded one, for the sake of keeping her promise to Mr. Frank, of course. She had to earn Tanner’s trust. “Have you checked out the barn yet?”

“It was locked. I’ll call the lawyer about a key.”

“A spare key is in the broom closet. You’ll love the barn, Tanner. There’s so much history in it. Right now, it’s just storage for your grandfather’s old Thunderbird, but when your great-grandfather lived here, this house was actually out in the country and he traded horses. The town spread out until Fairfax House ended up in the middle of town. You’re allowed to keep the barn because it’s the original structure.”

Her cellular phone rang. “Excuse me, Tanner.” Cassie dug the phone out of a bib pocket and checked the phone number. Good. “It’s my painter. I’ll just be a minute.” She put the phone up to her ear. “Hey, Georgie.”

“Hi, Cas. I’m on my way to Mr. Dibble’s place. And I wanted to thank you again for letting me off early yesterday. Emily scored the team’s only goal!”

Cassie grinned as she pictured the curly-haired six-year-old in her purple-and-white uniform. “Not a problem, Georgie. Looks like I owe her an ice-cream cone.”

“Now, Cas, it isn’t necessary to bribe. She lives to tear up the field.”

“I know. But she’s so cute, I’d end up treating her anyway. Oh, and in case you forgot, wait a while after you ring Mr. Dibble’s doorbell. He uses a walker and might take a while to get to the door. And don’t waste much time going over paint chips. He always ends up choosing the original color.”