Undone (A Country Roads Novel) (6 page)

“Please sit,” Mr. Adams said, gesturing to a chair while he walked around his desk and sat down. “So, Ms. Morrison, I hear you’re looking for a job.”

“Paige,” she said, crossing her legs.

“Paige,” he amended. “Brendan King said you might be able to help me with my new technological issue.”

“And what issue is that?”

“There is this thing that funeral homes are doing for services. It involves taking pictures and videos of the deceased and putting them to music.”

“A slideshow?”

“Yes,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But maybe just a little bit more fancy. I would also like to update our prayer cards and booklets. Brendan said you’re a photographer.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, suddenly getting nervous.

If he wanted her to take pictures of dead bodies there was no way in hell she was going to take this job. What if they wanted to dress the deceased up in weird costumes? Like a picture album from beyond the dead?

“What did you have in mind?” she asked cautiously.

“I wanted to incorporate local scenery into the background of the pictures instead of the generic stuff that comes with the program. The people from around here are used to a more southern atmosphere. Eagles soaring over a mountain pass don’t really fit into that. I want to give them something in death that they had in life. For many of these people this area was their life,” he said, turning slightly in his chair.

“What else would the job entail?”

Please don’t say dead bodies. Please don’t say dead bodies.

“Updating the Web site and writing obituaries.”

Paige and her mother had looked up Adams and Family on the Internet to figure out what it was, and neither of them had been impressed with the Web site. It was outdated and boring.

“I could do that.”

“Then it’s settled. Tara will help you fill out the paperwork today and you can start tomorrow if you’re available.”

“I’m available,” Paige said more than a little overwhelmed.

This had been the shortest interview of her life, and Mr. Adams hadn’t looked at her résumé or even her work portfolio. He had no idea if she was any good or not. He was basing it all on a reference from one person.

Brendan King.

*  *  *

Brendan had been working on cars since he was six. Back then, it had always been under the supervision of his grandfather. Oliver would put a chair next to the car he was working on and point out every single part for Brendan. Oliver let him attempt to loosen the bolts, which he wasn’t able to do alone until he was ten. Oliver had been the only father figure Brendan had ever known, his real father having walked out on his mother before he’d been born.

Brendan’s mother, Claire King, had been a beautiful woman and the light of her parents’ world. She’d had a brilliant smile and an infectious laugh. When Brendan was six, Claire gave him a baby sister. That father was never talked about either. Well, at least not in the King household. As for the people of Mirabelle, they’d talked about that juicy bit of gossip for years, and it sometimes still came up in conversations. Some said he was one of the many tourists who came to the beach in the summer. Others said he was a married man from the area.

In school, Brendan had gotten into more fights than he could count. He had a temper and would snap when kids made fun of him and his sister. But the harsh gossip had stopped when Brendan was sixteen, because that was when Claire had died. By the time the doctors had found it, it had been too late. She’d only been diagnosed with breast cancer for seven months before it had killed her.

At his mother’s funeral, holding his little sister’s hand in his, Brendan had become an adult. He’d never turned back. Twelve years later, at the age of twenty-eight, he owned half of King’s Auto and his own house.

But at the moment he felt like he was fifteen again and in no control of his hormones, because he couldn’t get Paige Morrison out of his head. He kept seeing her in those sexy as hell shoes. Kept seeing her eyebrows bunch together before she went off on a rant. Kept seeing that pretty mouth of hers. And it was all messing with his head.

“B.K.!” Greg called from the front. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Brendan turned around to the front of the garage to see Paige standing in the doorway wearing a frown. If only it were as easy as thinking about her to always make her appear.

He pulled his gloves off, sticking them in his back pocket as he walked toward her. He couldn’t help but smile as he took in her clothing. A pair of black pants covered her long legs and her red toes peeked out of a pair of flat sandals. She wore a bright blue shirt made of some satiny material that he wanted to reach out and rub between his fingers.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, shifting from one foot to the other, her frown still firmly in place.

“Alright,” Brendan said, gesturing to the empty office with his hand. He held the door open as she walked past him and he couldn’t help but stare at her hair. He hadn’t seen it down before, and today it flowed past the middle of her long, graceful back. It was chestnut brown, thick, and full of curls. He wanted to reach out and touch that too.

She turned to him as he shut the door behind them, her arms folded across her chest.

“How can I help you?” Brendan asked, leaning back against the wall.

“I don’t understand you,” she said, shaking her head, her mouth twitching.

“What is it you don’t understand?”

“You got me a job interview.”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Why? Why did you get me a job interview?”

“Because you needed a job.” She was clearly agitated, and it was most definitely directed at him. “Are you angry with me?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air.

“I don’t understand
you
,” he said, pushing off the wall and walking toward her. “You say that no one in this town will give you a chance, that no one in this town has been nice to you. Yet when someone does give you a chance,” he said, stopping in front of her, “when someone is nice to you, you get all uptight and agitated,” he said, reaching out and grabbing a piece of her hair, rubbing the soft curl between his fingers.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, looking up at him alarmed.

“I noticed you didn’t wear those shoes of yours today,” he said, letting go of her hair.

“Yeah, well,” she said and shrugged, not finishing her sentence.

“And you wore pants,” he said, eyeing her legs.

“Stop that,” she said, putting her hand on his chest to push him away, but when she touched him, they both stopped and just stared at each other.

Her hand was pressed right above his heart, and warmth spread from her palm and long thin fingers, settling in his chest. He reached up and covered her hand with his, not letting her move it from his chest. She swallowed hard and continued to stare at his face.

“Did you get the job?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

She nodded, breathing unevenly.

“You know, here in the South, we say ‘thank you’ for something like that,” he said giving her a slow smile.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Paige,” he said, leaning in closer, his eyes focused on her lips.

The door opened behind them, the blinds on the window hitting the glass as the door bounced against the wall. Paige and Brendan jumped apart as Oliver walked into the office.

Brendan would’ve kissed her; he’d only had to move in a few more inches and he would’ve done it. She would’ve let him too. He’d seen the desire in her eyes. It was the same desire he’d felt pounding through his entire body.

His grandfather had impeccable timing.

Oliver had a cell phone to his ear and an invoice in front of his face. He didn’t even notice Brendan and Paige until he looked up.

“See you then,” he said, ending the call. “Paige,” he said, putting his cell phone in his pocket. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I, uh, I came by to thank Brendan?” She said it like a question.

Brendan couldn’t help but smile at her inability to think properly.

“Thank him for what?” Oliver asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The, uh, job,” she said, still trying to find her bearings.

“You got a job? That’s great news,” Oliver said, giving Paige a genuine smile. “Did Brendan tell you about your car yet?”

“We didn’t get that far,” Brendan said.

“My car?” Paige said, coming back to herself.

“Yeah, we ordered the part. It’ll be in tomorrow morning and you should have your Jeep back by closing.”

“How much?” she asked, biting her lip.

“We’re looking at about five hundred for everything.”

Brendan watched as Paige’s whole face fell.

Oliver opened his mouth to say something but Brendan cut him off. “We can set up a payment plan,” he said, taking a step toward her.

Oliver glanced at Brendan, a dumbfounded look on his face.

“When do you start your job?” Brendan asked.

“Tomorrow,” she said, looking back and forth between the men. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“It isn’t a problem,” Brendan said, shaking his head. “We’ll discuss terms when you pick up your car tomorrow.”

“Brendan, I—”

“It’s done, Paige. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“No problem.”

“I have to go,” she said, backing up toward the door. “My dad needs his car back. I’ll, uh, hear from you tomorrow?” she asked, looking at Brendan.

“Tomorrow.” He nodded.

“What was that?” Oliver asked as the door shut behind Paige. “Payment plan?”

“She’s going to pay us back.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that. But if this is one of your new ideas for the garage I’m going to have to veto it immediately,” Oliver said, frowning.

“We aren’t going to offer it to everyone,” Brendan said, shaking his head. “Just her.”

“Just
her
,” Oliver repeated, his frown slowly turning into a smile. “You know I wasn’t that engrossed in that invoice when I walked into the office. I saw you two spring apart like the other was on fire.”

Brendan had no doubt about that.

*  *  *

“You almost kissed him?”

“I didn’t almost kiss him,” Paige said as she paced the floor in her bedroom. “
He
almost kissed
me
.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re going to try to discuss semantics with me?” Even though Abby was almost one thousand miles away, Paige could see her as if she was standing in the same room, waving her arm in the air in exasperation.

“It’s not
semantics
. It’s what happened.”

“Did you attempt to move away?”

“Well no, but—”

“No. No buts. You would’ve let him kiss you. You wanted
him to kiss you.”

“You’re like a dog with a bone.”

“And you’re completely delusional. Just admit it. You wanted your hot mechanic to kiss you.”

“Brendan. His name is Brendan. And as I’ve told you a dozen times, he is
not
mine.”

“But he will be. Just give it time.”

Chapter Three

A Harlot at the Funeral Home

O
n Wednesday, Tara dragged Paige into the kitchen for a cup of coffee before she gave Paige the full tour of the Adams and Family funeral home.

The kitchen had black-and-white tile on the floors and counter. The cabinets were old fashioned but the white paint on them was fresh. An industrial refrigerator stood in one corner and an old stove in the other.

“We make punch and coffee for the funerals, but all of the food is catered,” Tara said, handing Paige a green coffee cup. “So mainly staff uses the kitchen,” she said as she poured both cups full of the steaming liquid. “Coffee, milk, and sugar are communal,” she said, opening the fridge and pulling out a gallon of milk.

As they fixed their coffee, a small boney woman with streaky gray hair came into the kitchen. She put a bag in the refrigerator and turned around.

“Hi, Verna,” Tara said brightly. “This is Paige Morrison. She’s going to be making those new tributes.”

Verna looked at them, a scowl on her face. She looked Paige up and down, her eyes focusing on Paige’s feet. Paige was wearing her bright red peep-toed heels, which she’d paired with a conservative stretchy black dress that hit her just below the knee. The only reason she’d worn flats the day before was because her feet had still been killing her from her trek along the highway, and she might have been a little self-conscious after Brendan’s comment. But when she’d seen Tara’s four-inch heels the day before, she’d decided she wasn’t going to let anyone mess with her shoes. Some things were sacred, and Paige’s shoe choice was one of them.