HT Scrappily HEA A15 Read online

We turn onto another street where the houses are even larger and farther apart, and the rose gardens out front are far more elaborate.

  “This is a nice neighborhood,” I say casually.

  Claire rolls her eyes up at me. “I know, it’s lame. I still live with my parents.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  She shakes her head. “I just finished college six months ago, but had this job lined up in advance. I could maybe get my own apartment now, but things would be a bit tight. When I get a promotion in a few weeks, I’ll start looking.”

  My hand slips up her shoulder to rub along the back of her neck. “I love that you said ’when’ and not ‘if’.”

  Her dazzling grin makes me want to lean down and kiss those perfect lips. Now. But I glance around the neighborhood and think better of it. It’s probably bad enough that she’s being seen with me.

  “It’s not just positive thinking,” she explains. “It’s Mr. Edgar’s procedure. Nobody can be promoted to product designer unless they’ve been there at least six months, and had a major breakthrough with a new product line.”

  “He wants to make sure that you’re serious?”

  “I think so. I’ve heard he’s had a lot of people cruise in, work a few months, then leave to go to a larger company in the city. If he’s investing so much time and energy teaching people his business, that’s not really fair.”

  I nod. “Apprenticing is the most valuable form of education, in my opinion.”

  Her fingers dig into my side again. “Exactly. Books are wonderful, but there’s nothing like direct hands-on learning from someone who has been doing it for many years, right?”

  I can’t believe we’re just walking along the street like an actual couple. A girl this beautiful certainly doesn’t belong with me, but who am I to question her taste?

  For all I know, she might be on the rebound from a lousy relationship with a fussy corporate type. If she’s just slumming it with me, that’s fine. There has to be a way to make her fall for me completely.

  We are almost at the end of the road when Claire pauses at the edge of a long, curved driveway. Staring at the luxurious house, I instantly note two cars in the driveway.

  To my absolute shock, she leads me up the pathway.

  “Holy shit,” I mutter half under my breath, “Is that the new Bugatti?”

  Claire’s laugh tinkles around us. “My brother likes the way my mother’s chef cooks, so he’s here for dinner several times a week.”

  As we approach the grand entrance, I see that the lot is much deeper than I had realized, and the house is absolutely enormous.

  I don’t know that I want her family to see her with me. My feelings for her are already too strong, causing my better judgment to ping-pong back and forth. I want her so badly, want to pick her up and carry her directly to my much smaller house for some private time.

  It is crystal clear she comes from a different world. A world where I might be seen as bad news for placing my dirty paws on such a precious young woman.

  “I should probably go,” I say, stopping us in our tracks. “I’m not really a meet the family kind of guy, at least not today.”

  “Oh.” She turns to face me, which spins her out from under my arm.

  “I get that,” she nods. “My dad is usually quiet, but when he does speak, he’s opinionated. Mom is typically in frantic party mode. And my brother Glen... ” She stares directly up at the sky for a second. “He’s sometimes a lot to take. A total snob. ”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Thank you so much for helping me this morning,” she says sweetly. “And for walking me home just now.”

  “Any time. But from now on, I’ll do my best to keep my blood to myself.”

  Her nose scrunched up. “I’m really sorry that I cut you, and that I’m so squeamish.”

  “Not your fault.” My hand darts out to grab a chunk of hair that is blowing wildly in the slight breeze, to tuck it behind her ear.

  That beautiful face tips up to mine, and I realize this is the perfect opportunity to kiss her goodbye.

  It comes to me with a strange twinge deep in my guts. Claire is special. Not only is she the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, she has a lightness, a sweetness about her that is just…exactly what I need.

  There is no way to explain it, or even make sense of it. I’ve been brooding in my metal shop for a long time. It’s time for this bear to come out of hibernation.

  My hand slips around the back of her neck, playing with her hair as I lean forward. “You know, the number one rule of medicine is having someone kiss the patient so they heal faster.”

  Those soft brown eyes sparkle as she presses her lips together to stifle a giggle. “Is that so?”

  “Absolutely. It’s hard science. University papers are written about it every single day.”

  Claire’s hands reach up to circle my neck, making me feel warm and chilled at the same time. Leaning in slowly, I graze my mouth across her soft lips in a teasing caress.

  Then I hear it. The sexiest little sound in the universe. Not quite a whimper. A tiny breathless hum in the back of her throat, as if she’s holding back a moan.

  In that split-second, with that soft sound, as she presses her lips to mine harder, I realize that I’m not just attracted to this incredible girl.

  I’ve never believed in any of that cosmic mumbo-jumbo soul mate junk. But somehow I believe in her. I know that we’re going to be a couple. My wavering uncertainties can now escort themselves out.

  My heart already belongs to her. Even though it should know better.

  Claire is mine.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ~ Claire ~

  My life has been flipped upside down. Or twisted on its head. Or something. Heck, I don’t know which way to put it, but absolutely nothing is the same as it was a couple of days ago.

  As I walk to Henry’s the next morning, I already know that Shane will be there. Just before I left the house this morning my fingers hovered over the keys on my phone, wondering if I should text him. I’m never that bold. In the end, I didn’t.

  It was the same last night, when I’d stretched up into that incredible kiss without hesitation. It had been completely unlike me. I’m a planner. I think things through, and look at all angles.

  Yet there is something about Shane that makes every rule and guideline fly straight out of my head.

  Strolling away from my neighborhood toward the strange in-between area where Henry’s Coffee and Shane’s shop are, I try to think what it is about him that makes me so crazy.

  My family has dragged me to so many events over the years that I am used to seeing attractive men. Nobody comes remotely close to Shane though.

  That’s like comparing cotton candy to steak. Or tissue paper to a sheet of beautifully engraved metal.

  Shane was solid. Real. Slightly possessive. Yet unbelievably tender. The way his heavy hand had lightly stroked my hair when I was still woozy on Henry’s backroom couch still gives me tingles just thinking about it.

  Maybe it had been a shifty move, but I let myself rest for a few moments longer just to see what he would do. I adored the way he had touched me, then pulled his hand away as if he needed to be sure I wanted his touch.

  As I turn onto Sherborne Avenue, I feel a wave of relief that our book group is meeting tonight. This is definitely the sort of thing that I must discuss with fellow women who are quickly becoming close friends.

  Even though I know they will tease me and make a big deal of everything, they will also tell me what to do.

  Walking into Henry’s, I stifle a giggle. Shane is already at a table in the far corner. I knew it.

  Wouldn’t it be handy if men came with instruction manuals? Every other complicated thing on the planet has a manual, or a website where you can look up the operating instructions.

  There must be a non-dorky way to ask an older man if he would consider being your boyfriend and making things official so that yo
u could be a bit less nervous about everything.

  But every single way I play it through my head is, in fact, humiliatingly and completely ridiculous.

  “Good morning, Claire.” Henry’s voice booms warmly through the room, announcing my presence to the bleary-eyed students and office workers staring into their phones and laptops.

  “Are you feeling better today?” he asks, concern creasing the edges of his eyes.

  “I was just about to ask the same thing.” Shane is at my side already, his hand on my shoulder almost…protectively?

  “I’m totally fine, really. Thanks for asking, though.”

  “Tea from the next in line?” Henry asks.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Why don’t you get a muffin or something as well?” Shane suggests. “A little breakfast.”

  I don’t normally eat much in the mornings, but if it will take the worry from his eyes, I can certainly handle a muffin.

  “Good idea. Banana and walnut, please.”

  Shane taps his debit card on the machine before I can even fumble for my wallet. He takes my order over to his table as I smile a good morning at Henry, then follow.

  I love the way he brings our chairs together so that I am close beside him.

  “Did you have a good night?” he asks.

  “I suppose. Except for the wonderful walk home, it was pretty standard.”

  “Standard?” His smile draws attention to his lips, which are almost dangerously close.

  It is far too early in the morning to balance sipping tea, waking up fully, and trying not to throw myself at Shane all at the same time. That level of multitasking ability doesn’t kick in until I’ve had at least two cups of tea, which equals thirty to forty minutes.

  “You know. The usual dinner. Parents bickering about stupid details that normal people would never even notice. Brother eating everything in sight as if he’s been starving for a month.”

  Shane chuckles. “Doesn’t sound very fun.”

  “He keeps blaming his personal trainer, saying that he is supposed to carbo load and whatnot,” I shrug, then take a small bite of my muffin. “Oh my God, this is incredible.”

  Without even thinking, I pull off a nut laden chunk of the muffin top and hold it out to Shane’s lips. His eyes blaze, staring into mine as he leans in slowly, managing to caress my fingers with his lips as he pulls the piece into his mouth.

  Why is every single thing this man does so damn sensual? I’m not exactly complaining, but it’s seriously overwhelming.

  “You’re right,” he says in that deep, resonant voice. “It’s delicious.”

  From the way he is staring intently at my bottom lip, I can tell he is no longer talking about the muffin. “Tell me, sweet little Claire, on a scale of one to ten, how inappropriate would it be if I were to kiss you right now?”

  Tearing my eyes from his, I glance around the shop. Nobody is paying the slightest bit of attention.

  “Four point three?”

  I would’ve thought that he’d laugh at my precision, but his lips are already gliding against mine in a feather light kiss that is teasingly, heartbreakingly sweet.

  His hand slips into the back of my hair, massaging my neck and the bottom of my skull. There’s no logical reason why this should feel so wildly sexy, but it does.

  Maybe I like being manhandled a little. Who knew? I force myself to hold back a moan as he deepens the kiss.

  That’s going to be the most exciting thing about this relationship. I don’t even know what I like. Everything is going to be new and exciting.

  His hand tightens, and he tears his lips away. “I can’t…I don’t think I can control myself if you make that little sound.”

  “What little sound?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. Finish your muffin, and I’ll walk you to work.”

  “Okay, but while my mouth is full, tell me what you’re going to be working on today.”

  His hand slips to my lower back, massaging in little circles that make me wonder if it is possible for a human being to instantly turn into a puddle.

  “Well, I start almost every day by straightening up the shop for a bit,” he begins. “Then I go through the bin at the back to see what people have dropped off overnight. If there’s anything worth fixing, I’ll bring it inside. Everything else goes into the huge metal recycling dumpster.”

  “I want to see your shop.”

  “Soon, sweetie.”

  Our eyes meet as that tiny term of endearment strikes us both. There’s no way I can hold back my instant grin.

  Shane clears his throat. “Then I group all of the repairs together so that I can do all of the soldering at once, all of the buffing and polishing at once, that sort of thing.”

  “It sounds like pleasant work, but a bit solitary.” I pop the last bite of muffin into my mouth, swallowing before I ask, “Do you ever get lonely?”

  He chuckles, taking a sip of coffee. “Never. I’m used to it. I prefer it, most of the time.”

  “When are the times you don’t prefer it?”

  He leans in, dragging his lips along the skin just under my ear, sending twitchy sparkles of desire through my entire nervous system.

  “Times like last night, when I wanted to take you home, but had to leave you at your house.”

  Oh my.

  Shane stands up, taking our empty cups to the side counter, while I try to remember how knees work.

  I stand slowly, strapping on my purse, then as I start to sling on my shoulder bag, he takes it for me.

  It’s not heavy, and my gut instinct is to tell him he doesn’t have to bother, but I don’t. I like it. I want him to bother about me. It makes me feel like his.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ~ Shane ~

  If anyone had told me a few months ago that I would have the time of my life while walking a girl to work, I would’ve laughed in their face.

  It’s crazy. Ridiculous. This delicate angel of a young woman seems to truly enjoy spending time with a gruff, unpolished guy like me.

  Mind you, she brings out the absolute best in me, so that’s definitely working in my favor. Every little glance and giggle make me smile more than I have in years.

  As I unlock the shop, I can’t help but feel like a sentimental weirdo for still savoring the tingle of her lips against mine from our goodbye kiss five minutes ago.

  After putting on a pot of coffee using beans I bought from Henry a few weeks ago, I dust and sweep the shop, enjoying the near silence before going outside.

  In the back bin behind the shop I sort through the overnight dropoffs. As always, the pieces are completely random, and frequently pretty interesting.

  An old iron bullfrog, one foot in diameter, that someone will love to put in their garden. A pair of old silver candlesticks, with a few chips and dings I can buff out.

  Three old-fashioned garden gnomes that just need a fresh coat of paint on their navy blue uniforms. I’m not sure why someone put these guys in the military, but someone will want them.

  Of course, as always there are also several pieces that are what Dad would have referred to as “total rubbish”. I toss them in the other bin, then bring the usable pieces inside.

  While I’ve been out back, three older women have come into the shop and helped themselves to my coffee, and are now sitting around a table and chair set I’d just marked down ten percent. Two of the ladies have their hair pulled back in tidy buns, and are politely looking around at the antiques.

  But the one with the short white curly hair is a bit saucier. Anyone can tell from one look that she is a troublemaker.

  “Scrappy, could you be a love and fetch us some cream?”

  Setting the box down on the end of the counter, I force a smile as I go back to the fridge. “All I have is milk. And you only get it if you promise to stop calling me that.”

  Mom laughs loudly, anointing her coffee with milk and then rubbing her hands on her jeans. “Don’t be a stick in the mud, Scr
appy. I brought you some new customers.”

  “Shane,” I say pointedly, offering my hand to the ladies.

  After I meet Sheila and Gretchen, my mother insists that I show them the absolute best pieces in the shop. Apparently they are two women from her gardening club, and both happen to be redecorating.

  Although Mom annoys me slightly when she drops in without warning, she does bring in new customers quite often.