Almost Like Being in Love (20 page)

Jessica leaned back in her chair, sliding her glasses back up on her nose. “Congratulations. But oh, boy, when it comes time to propose . . . well, you've got your work cut out for you.”

Proposing. Between his dad and now Jessica, it seemed there was no avoiding the topic. “What do you mean?”

“Where have you been? You can't just hand a girl a ring and say ‘Will you marry me?' anymore.” Jessica shook her head. “It starts in high school nowadays. Guys are supposed to come up with these elaborate ways to ask a girl to homecoming or prom. Flowers. Banners. Gigantic stuffed animals. By the time a girl expects a wedding proposal, a guy has to have some sort of grand, romantic gesture she'll tell all her friends and family about and remember for the rest of her life.”

No wonder Caron had shut him down. There was no way he was telling Jessica Thompson how badly he bungled things the other day. No flowers. No ring. And no eye contact. “I'm not much of a grand-romantic-plan kind of guy. Caron knows that.”

“All the more reason to surprise her.”

“Maybe.” Alex tapped the palm of his hand with the useless belt. “Oh, man, I can't believe I forgot to tell you something.”

“More bad news?”

“No. I figured out a way to save you some money on a replacement air conditioner.”

“Really?”

“We had to pull a unit at a customer's home because they're remodeling and they wanted a larger unit. The unit they had works fine and they had a planned service agreement, so it's well maintained. It should last awhile without problems.”

“It sounds wonderful. But how much am I looking at spending?”

“Only twelve hundred dollars. We can arrange a payment plan. Think about it.” He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “Call me and let me know and we'll set up an installation time.”

“I'll need to check my finances.”

“I understand. I'll let you get back to work.” Halfway to the door, he stopped. “You still good with me fixing your washing machine?”

“Am I still good? What kind of silly question is that? Believe me, going to the Laundromat is not high on my list of favorite things to do. And Scotty doesn't like it any more than I do.”

“I can imagine.” Alex tugged on his cap. “I might not be back until the weekend, or whenever you decide about the air conditioner.”

“I'll give you a call. And I really do appreciate you thinking of me—I mean, for the used air conditioner. And don't worry about my washing machine, Alex.”

“One good deed deserves another.”

“Oh, that reminds me! Wait there.” She disappeared into the small kitchen, reappearing with a small brown lunch sack.

“What's this?”

“Not much, really. Just a snack. An apple and an orange and some homemade cookies. Now get going.”

He raised the sack and saluted her. “Thanks.”

By the time he'd turned off her street, Alex had already finished off two of the oatmeal raisin cookies. He was going to have a hard time keeping up with Jessica in the good-deed department. It was second nature to her. Seemed like she was determined to carry on her mother's tradition of feeding both friends and strangers.

Too bad Scotty hadn't been there today. He'd missed the little boy's nonstop chatter and questions. Not that he had the time to get attached to him. Or Scotty's mother. He could help out someone in need, too. And then focus on work, and getting things back to normal with Caron as best he could while she was several thousand miles away.

T
he noise reverberating through the gym minutes earlier faded as the basketball players exited, the wheels of their chairs squeaking against the polished wood floor. A few of the men called back and forth to one another, their T-shirts and hair damp with sweat, laughter punctuating their words.

With a wave, Mitch separated himself from his teammates and made his way to where Kade leaned back against the lowest set of bleachers.

“You should have joined us.” Mitch wiped his arm across his forehead.

“Didn't have the appropriate mode of transportation. Besides, I couldn't keep up with you on the basketball court before, and I still can't.”

“Got that right. Ready for a swim?”

“Yeah.”

Mitch stayed in place. “You going to tell me what's going on?”

Kade slumped forward over his knees. “It's that obvious?”

“An
artic breeze blew through the office late yesterday afternoon, man. And Miriam warned me that Caron came in to work today muttering something about checking the office manual about wearing a bell.” Mitch's laugh rang through the empty gym. “Caron Hollister works for you less than a day and you two already had a fight?”

“It's my fault. I got out of line.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I got jealous, okay? Stupid, I know. She was talking to the landscaper out at Kingston's house yesterday and it . . . it bothered me.”

“What did you do?”

“I accused her of flirting and . . . fooling around . . .”

“With the landscape guy? What did you do, find them in a passionate embrace behind the begonias?”

“Very funny. And you don't have to say anything. Caron already did.” Kade gripped his knees, pushing himself back up. “I was out of line, I know it. I haven't been around the woman for two years and I overreact because she's talking to another guy? What's my problem?”

“You tell me. Isn't she practically engaged to her boyfriend?”

“Probably. I haven't kept tabs on Caron Hollister.”

“Lacey would be asking if you're still in love with her—”

“Well, it's a good thing you're not Lacey, isn't it? I hired Caron Hollister to do a job for me. She'll be gone right after the tour. Back to Florida and her boyfriend.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I owe her an apology. And then I need to push reset on this whole work relationship.”

“I'm sorry this is tougher than you expected.” Mitch's tone sobered. “I'm praying for you.”

“Thanks.” Kade scrubbed the palm of his hand across his face. “You know,
I hated losing Russell Hollister's mentorship when I decided to go out on my own and start my own company. I learned a lot from the man. How to read clients. To separate what people in search of a home wanted from what they needed. How to close a deal. How to settle disputes. My decision to go out on my own strained—no, it killed our relationship because Russell Hollister felt betrayed. He couldn't see that I only wanted the same thing he'd wanted as a young man—the chance to be my own boss.”

“I've seen that happen more than once when someone breaks away from a mentor or a coach.”

“Yeah. Caron and I had been dating about six months . . . and I never thought she'd choose her dad over me.”

“Is that what happened?”

“I think so. I don't know. She never told me.”

“She never told you?”

“Nope. It was just . . . over.” Kade rose to his feet. “What's the use of talking about it? Let's hit the pool. Cool down. Clear our heads.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And tomorrow it's back to work and doing what we do best. Selling houses. We need to spend some time looking for something for you and Lacey.”

“It's not a priority.”

“Yes, it is. I haven't forgotten. The home tour is demanding a lot of time, yes, but we'll do it.”

“Maybe we should wait until after the tour. Are we crazy to still try and do the Mudder in two weeks?”

“We are not backing out of the Mudder. It'll take up a Saturday. One day, that's all.”

“Okay, fine. But I've waited this long to find a house for Lacey and me. I can wait a little longer.”

“It doesn't
take that long to scan the new listings.” Kade rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. “I'll go in a little earlier tomorrow and let you know if I find anything.”

•  •  •

Kade swiveled his chair around so he faced away from the door leading out of his office. Now he could enjoy the view from the rain-dampened window—a sky filled with clouds that had rolled in over the mountains throughout the afternoon, dumping intermittent showers accompanied with rumbles of thunder.

Facing one way, needing to go in the exact opposite direction.

He knew what he should do, but the “how” eluded him.

Closing on several home sales—the discussion, signing of papers, the smiles and congratulations—had kept him out of the office and derailed his thoughts for the better part of the day. He'd even driven by Kingston's house again as a distraction. He'd sat outside as the workers scurried back and forth, completing their frenzied tasks on the house.

And now here he was, the woman who had rejected him without an explanation, without a goodbye, just down the hallway. Why had he let pursuing his dreams get him tangled up with Caron Hollister again?

Avoidance was not the Ranger way. He needed to go forward, accomplish the task, and put it behind him. He could call Caron into his office and keep things on a more formal boss–employee status.

But the memory of the few times he'd been summoned to Russell Hollister's office kept him from buzzing Miriam. A brief nod from the older man, indicating that Kade was to sit in one of the chairs in front of the older man's desk. Conversation kept to a minimum, mostly one-sided.

Despite his admiration for Hollister's business savvy, he'd never liked some of the man's high-handed ways. And yet he sounded as arrogant as Caron's father when he talked to her on Monday. His attitude had shadowed him like an unpleasant odor lingering in a seller's home. He was the boss and he wanted to develop a certain type of relationship with his employees—even if Caron was only temporary. And what happened between him and Caron after he saw her talking with the gardener did not reflect his employer–employee mind-set. He'd handled Miriam's silly crush better than he'd dealt with Caron. And if he was honest with himself, he'd overreacted.

They were both here now. Mitch had left earlier with a get-it-done nod in the direction of Caron's office. Kade might as well choke down his slice of humble pie and be done with it.

•  •  •

How had she so easily . . . so blindly . . . run from one set of expectations she couldn't live up to only to collide right into another wall of expectations she had to scale?

Caron dumped what was left in the box of Hot Tamales into a plain white bowl on her desk, the red oval candies clattering against the ceramic dish. She'd go shopping for something nicer to store the candy in if she was staying. But a twenty-one-day job warranted nothing more than a cereal dish found in the break room cabinets.

She ought to toss the candies in the trash, but she needed the zing of her favorite snack. Let Kade Webster joke all he wanted to—chewing a few Hot Tamales did get her creative juices going. It was part of her regular workday routine. And despite Kade's moronic behavior on Monday, she had a job to do. She'd work here as late as she could, and leave when Kade left, since he hadn't given her a key to the building.

She hit speed dial on her cell phone, waiting for Margo to answer. “Hey, I wanted to update you on my plans for tonight.”

“Going out with your handsome boss?”

“Just . . . stop.” Caron fisted a handful of Hot Tamales. “I'm going to work here as late as I can—”

“But Emma and the other bridesmaids are coming over to start making their jewelry. We need you here.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot.” Not lying to her friend because she had truly forgotten the craft night planned for this evening. “I'm so swamped—”

“Well, I'll start your necklace, but you should come anyways! It'll be fun.”

“Um, yeah.” For someone who wasn't craft-challenged.

At that moment, Kade stopped just outside her office. Caron paused, waiting for him to move past. Even at the end of the workday, he still looked good in his charcoal-gray suit jacket and khaki pants.

Caron closed her eyes. Not that she should be noticing how he looked.

When she opened her eyes, the man still stood in her office doorway. He tilted his head, eyebrows raised, asking a silent “Can I talk to you?”

Caron mirrored his head tilt, pointing to herself, responding with a silent “Now?”

With two swift steps, Kade entered her office. That would be a yes.

Margo interrupted the silent standoff. “Are you still there?”

“Yes. But I have to go. I'll see you later tonight.”

Kade started talking as she disconnected the call.

“I apologize for interrupting—”

“No problem. It was just Margo.”
Caron unclenched her hand. Ugh. Sweaty Hot Tamales. She needed soap and water. “I wanted her to know I'd be working late tonight . . . well, as late as I can.”