The Cottage on Juniper Ridge (22 page)

There’d been one tense moment when Ken’s sister had asked what she did for a living. Not for the first time, she wished she’d had more ambition when she was younger, that she hadn’t settled so quickly for the life she had.

“I work for Sweet Dreams Chocolates,” she’d said, and then had steered the conversation toward chocolate preferences. It was a bit of sleight of hand she’d mastered over the years to focus attention away from the specifics of her job.

Working at a chocolate factory probably sounded like fun to most people, but standing on her feet in front of a giant conveyor belt doing quality control wasn’t all that much fun. It sure didn’t require much in the brain department. A waste of a good brain, she thought now, and remembered her high school English teacher saying the very same thing when she’d earned a D in class for not bothering to turn in her homework.

“Your sister is lovely,” she said. “And the dinner was great.” This was a lifestyle she could get used to.

“She’s not bad,” he murmured, like a typical brother.

“And I never get tired of talking about books,” Chita said. “Sometimes it seems like a long wait till my next book club meeting.”

“You mentioned your book club at dinner. What do you read?”

“Anything and everything. Fiction, memoirs, even some nonfiction.”

“Oh, yeah? What was the last nonfiction book you read?”

“A book on gardening. Not something I’m interested in.”

“Me, neither,” he said. “When it comes to gardening I don’t carrot all.”

“That was bad,” she said with a smile.

“Well, then, lettuce move on to a new subject,” he said, making her groan. “Sorry. Sometimes I can’t help myself. What else have you read?”

“We read Muriel Sterling’s new book on simplifying your life, which I’ve been trying to do. Between the kids and work, it gets a little crazy.”

“Working at Sweet Dreams has to be a fun job, though,” he said. “What exactly do you do?”

She could feel her cheeks heating.
It’s good, honest labor,
she reminded herself. But it was far from satisfying. “I work in the factory.”

“You say that like you’re ashamed of it.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I am. Sometimes I think I could have done more with my life.”

“Your life’s not over yet,” he said.

They were at her house now. He shut off the engine and turned to look at her. “So is your life too crazy to add a man to it?” He slid his arm across the top of the seat and his fingers found her hair.

Just that little touch was enough to start a slow melting deep inside her. “I don’t know.” She hadn’t wanted to get involved with another man. Hadn’t wanted to risk her heart. Or her children’s hearts. But Ken Wolfe was tempting. Now he was playing with her hair. She was going to turn into a puddle here in the front seat of his fancy ’stang. “Maybe for the right man.”

He smiled. “Want to go out again?”

“First, tell me how it is that such a handsome man is single.”

“I’m looking for the right woman.”

She cocked her eyebrows. “That was a sly answer.”

“But true.” He leaned across the seat and urged her toward him. The look on his face made her mouth go suddenly dry. He kissed her. It was a slow, sexy kiss. Oh, boy. He’d have to pour her out of the car now. By the time he was done, her lips were vibrating, and so was the rest of her.

“Would you like to go out with me next week?” she asked.

He smiled.
“Oui.”

The minute she was inside the house Stacy wanted to know all about her date.

“It was fantastic,” Chita said. “And it got me thinking.”

“About sex?” Stacy teased.

“What’s that?” Chita joked, and flopped on the couch.

“Something you’re about to experience in the near future, I’m betting.”

“Well, that would be nice.” There was an understatement. “But I’m thinking my life could be...more.”

“How so?”

Chita picked up a large bowl that held a few half-popped kernels of popcorn. Stacy and the kids had obviously been partying. She took one and chewed on it. “These people I was with were all smart. They had degrees, interesting jobs. His sister and brother-in-law are brewmasters. The other couple owns an orchard.” She frowned. “And me? I work on an assembly line.”

“Not just any assembly line, though. Your company makes chocolate.”

Chita sighed heavily and set the bowl aside. “Yeah, well, if I owned the company...” She sighed again. “I haven’t done anything with my life.”

“You
are
doing something with your life. You’re raising two great kids, and you’re doing it single-handed.”

“It’s just that, well, I don’t know,” Chita finished lamely. “It sure would be nice to do something new.”

“You still can. Your life’s not over yet.”

Chita smiled. “That’s exactly what Ken said.”

“Ken sounds like a smart man. I hope you’re going out with him again.”

“I am.”

Stacy smiled. “Then that makes you a smart woman.”

She just hoped she was smart enough for Ken Wolfe.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Simplifying your life can be as challenging as it is rewarding.

—Muriel Sterling, author of
Simplicity

I’m really loving my simple life. My garden is coming along well, and today I’m trying something new. I’m going to make candles. In simpler times people always made their own candles.

Although I think in simpler times it didn’t cost as much. Wax, wicks, coloring, fragrance, a pouring pot, double boiler. My goodness! I did read online that you can use birthday candles for your wicks, and you can recycle wax and use old jelly jars. So that’s what I’m doing. I went to the Kindness Cupboard, our local thrift store, and found just about everything I need. Well, except the coloring and fragrance. That I ordered online. Now I’m set. This is going to be fun!

T
he day Jen picked to make her candles happened to fall on the first of the month, when Garrett always stopped by to collect the rent. That had nothing to do with why she was picking this particular day, she told herself. But she knew she was lying.

“So I want to impress the man,” she muttered, placing the fire extinguisher on the counter. (Purchased after the woodstove fiasco.)

Her sister was right. She needed to find someone else. The manager of the produce department at the Safeway was nice enough. She’d actually had a date with him. They’d gone to the Falls Cinema to see a movie. And had run into Garrett and Tilda. Jen had found it impossible to concentrate on the movie after that, and next time her friendly produce man had called she’d come up with an excuse to ditch him. She’d also dated one of the local Realtors, but with his fancy car and fine-art collection, he’d been more into himself than her. As for her admirers from the Red Barn, they were nice but there was no spark.

Still, there were plenty of other men in Icicle Falls. Plenty of men! She didn’t need to hang around waiting for Garrett Armstrong to get a clue. Except here she was, with her makeup on and wearing her cutest top and her shortest shorts.

She was in the middle of melting wax, using her makeshift double boiler, when he tapped on the cottage door.

He was earlier than usual. She’d hoped to have her candles poured by the time he arrived. She ran to the door and threw it open. “You’re early.”

Both his eyebrows went up. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no. It’s just that I’m in the middle of making candles.”

“They don’t have any at the store?”

“Of course they do, but I thought this would be interesting to try. Come on in,” she said, then hurried back to the stove. “I don’t want to leave this wax unattended for too long.”

“You’re melting wax?” His tone of voice betrayed a certain lack of confidence.

“Hey, I know what I’m doing,” she assured him. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

“I believe you,” he said, and sauntered into the kitchen. He eyed the fire extinguisher. “Baking soda will work, too.”

Okay, so she’d overcompensated. “Just making sure,” she said.

“Would you like any help?”

He was only offering because he thought she’d burn the place down but she decided not to quibble over his motives. Instead, she gave him her sweetest smile and said, “That’s really nice of you.”

“That’s me, Mr. Nice. What do you want me to do?” he asked, looking around at the collection of jam jars lined up on the counter.

“You can be in charge of the baking soda,” she said, and took the box out of the cupboard. “Do you always provide this kind of service to your tenants?”

“Never had a tenant before.”

“So I’m your first.”

“Yep. And you’ve been a memorable one.”

She frowned. “I don’t think you meant that in a good way. Oh, here, it looks like my wax is ready to pour.” She pointed to the box of birthday candles sitting next to the jars. “Would you mind helping me with my wicks?”

“Birthday candles?”

“I read that they make great candlewicks. Get one out and hold it in the jar while I pour the wax.”

He seemed less than excited about this idea, but gamely took a candle from the box and held it in the middle of a jar. “Don’t burn me.”

“I’m not an idiot,” she said again. Although now she was nervous. She took her pouring pan to the counter. She was standing so close to him she could almost feel the current zipping between them, and that made it hard to concentrate. She bit her lip and focused on her job, pouring very slowly. Nothing bad happened and she smiled. “There. See? No problem. Let’s do another.”

So they went on to the next candle. And, once more, Garrett’s hand survived the experience.

Maybe after two successes she was getting cocky. Or maybe he’d moved his hand just a little. She wasn’t actually sure. But the third time didn’t prove to be the charm. She managed to splash him with hot wax, making him flinch. Which meant that his hand jerked and she really got him.

“Yow!” He pulled his hand away and the wick fell sideways.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry,” she said, setting aside the pan. “Let me get some ointment.”

“Cold water,” he said, turning to the faucet. “Got some ice?”

She nodded and took ice out of the freezer, putting some in a quart-size plastic bag. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t know how that happened.”

“No worries,” he said.

“Your poor hand,” she fretted, giving him the bag.

“It’s okay,” he said as he applied the ice to his wound.

Why was it that every time she encountered this man something went wrong? “Things like this don’t happen when you’re not around,” she tried to explain.

“Yeah?” He looked dubious.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not much. I’m tough.”

She bit her lip. “Maybe I should just buy my candles.”

“Maybe,” he agreed.

“You know, I really am not incompetent.”

“I never said you were.”

“But that’s what you were thinking.”

He shrugged. “Not everyone’s cut out for candle-making.”

“Or assisting in candle-making,” she teased.

He smiled. “Or assisting in candle-making. We can’t be good at everything.”

“Hold that thought,” she said, and hurried down the hall to the bathroom. She snatched some ointment from the medicine cabinet, along with a box of bandages.

When he saw what she was holding, he shook his head. “I don’t need that.”

“Yes, you do,” she insisted. “I took first aid. You need to protect the skin.”

She took the top off the ointment tube and, obviously resigned to his fate, he put down the bag of ice and let her play Nancy Nurse.

As she took his hand, she couldn’t help observing how big it was, just like the rest of him. Big and solid.

Once more she was aware of that current flowing between them. She peeked up at his face and saw him giving her
that look,
the one a man wore when he wanted to kiss a woman.

Her lips were suddenly dry and she had to lick them. It was getting warm in here.

“You’ve got a nice touch,” he said as she applied the ointment.

His voice had gotten softer. Was it her imagination or was he leaning closer to her? She could feel her pulse rate picking up. It was
definitely
getting warm in here.

“I can smell those candles.”

She swallowed. “They aren’t scented. Must be my perfume.” Or his aftershave. He smelled...delicious.

“It’s nice.” He sounded like a man who’d been hypnotized.
You’re falling for this woman. Falling, falling.

That would be okay with Jen. She so badly wanted a stable man, a good man, she could build her new life with.
This man,
her heart kept insisting. Stupid, don’t-take-no-for-an-answer heart.

Garrett suddenly came out of his trance. He cleared his throat and she could feel him pulling away. “That’ll probably do it.”

Oh. As in stop fondling his hand? She took out a bandage and carefully stuck it on. “See? There’s something I’m good at. Actually, I’m good at a lot of things,” she added. “Words with Friends—I always beat my sister and that kills her, since she’s the real writer in the family. Playing cards, organizing stuff.” Okay, she had to stop. She sounded as if she were applying for a position. She supposed, in a way, she was. “What are
you
good at?”

She could think of one thing he was probably great at. Ooh, it was
so
hot in here.

“Hitting a baseball, I guess. Swinging a hammer. And I’ve been known to win my share of card games.”

“Bet you couldn’t beat me.”

Instead of rising to the bait and suggesting they play a game, he said, “I’m not even going to try. I’m sure you’re a force to be reckoned with.” His cell phone dinged to tell him he had a message. He glanced at it, then said, “I should get going.”

“Then I’d better get you a check. I hope you don’t have to spend any of it on a doctor’s visit.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

She wrote him a check and handed it over.

“Thanks,” he said.

She nodded. “See you around town.” Probably with someone. Who’d just messaged him? As if she couldn’t guess.

She walked him to the door, then watched as he climbed into his truck and drove away. So much for impressing her landlord.

* * *

That was a moment of temporary weakness, a sneaky hormone attack, a chemical reaction. No matter how cute and sweet Jen Heath was, Garrett wasn’t interested.

But he had to admit
she
was interesting. He was fascinated by the way she was always up for trying something new. But every new thing she tried seemed to go slightly wrong, whether it was driving in the snow, planting a garden or making candles.

And that’s why you’re with Tilda,
he told himself. Thank God.

So that vision of Jen in her little pink top and her butt-hugging shorts could go find some other sucker to annoy.

She sure looked good in pink.

With a growl of disgust, he pressed harder on the gas pedal and turned off Juniper Ridge.

* * *

“What’s with the bandage on your hand?” Tilda asked when she stopped by the fire station the next day.

Garrett had meant to take it off but he’d been too busy and forgotten. He focused his attention on washing down the fire engine. “No big deal.”

“What happened?”

“I burned it.”

“I thought you could cook,” she teased.

“Didn’t do it cooking.” Okay, that was dumb. He should’ve just let her think he’d burned his hand on the stove.

“Yeah? What happened?” she repeated.

Better to be straight up, he decided. Anyway, it was kind of a funny story. “I went to pick up the rent the other day, and my tenant was making candles.” He shook his head at the humor of it all.

“What, and she threw hot wax on you?”

“No, I was helping her.”

“Hmm. Cozy.”

“Well, it was that or let her burn the house down. Although she did have a fire extinguisher handy.”

“Considering her history, good idea.”

“Anyway, she spilled some wax on me. No big deal, but she wanted to bandage it, so I let her.”

“Wasn’t that nice of you?” Tilda had a smart mouth to begin with, and that was okay with him, but today her comments had a razor-sharp edge to them. And she wasn’t smiling.

Time to change the subject. “You want to do something later this week?” Tilda was on swing shift but he figured she’d be up for some racquetball or getting breakfast at her mom’s place.

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh. You got plans?”

“Not with you.” She spun around and started for her car.

He turned off the hose and followed her. “Hey, what’s going on?”

She stopped, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “You tell me.” If her tone of voice hadn’t been a big enough clue that he’d stepped in it, the expression on her face sure was.

“What do you mean?”

She pointed a finger at him. “I don’t play games.” Then she started walking to her car again.

He hurried after her. “I don’t, either.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to waste time on someone who isn’t interested in me.”

“I’m interested,” he protested.

She stopped at the car door. “Yeah? Well, let me make this clear since you’re not getting the picture. We’ve been hanging out long enough that I’m ready for this to go somewhere. If you want to chase after your tenant, that’s fine. We’ll call it quits right now.”

“I don’t want to chase after my tenant.” Well, maybe part of him did, but he wasn’t about to give in to it. “I want someone who’s got her shit together. You know that.”

“Yeah, well, you talk a lot.”

“Come on, Tilda, give me a break.”

She opened the car door.

“I’ve got tickets to the Mariners game.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. How does a day in Seattle sound? We can go to the game and then check out that big Ferris wheel down on the waterfront.”

She looked at him, considering. “You’d better not be yanking my chain.”

He held up both hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She smiled. “Good. ’Cause I’d hate to have to pistol-whip you.”

He smiled back. “I’ll call you.”

She nodded and got in her car and drove off, while Garrett returned to his fire truck. Okay. That did it. No more helping his tenant make candles, no more helping her with her garden, no more cozy friendly chats. Jen Heath was cute and she was fun. But she was the kind of woman who would turn a man’s life upside down with her crazy antics. He already had one woman doing that. Tilda, on the other hand, would never tear up his septic system or spill hot wax on him. She’d be good to his kid and she’d keep Ashley in line. Yep, Tilda was the way to go.

Had Jen ever been on that Ferris wheel in Seattle?

* * *

The first week in May had been so dead, Stacy had considered buying a gravestone for her shop door. Rest in Peace, Timeless Treasures. We Tried.

But come Maifest weekend, lo and behold, the tourists arrived in town. They came in every variety and combination—sisters, girlfriends, mothers and daughters, families. And they all came into the shop. Or so it seemed. At one point it was so crowded she thought she’d need a traffic cop. And almost everyone who wandered in wandered back out with a quilt or a vintage knickknack or antique.