A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel (19 page)

Seeing Claire again struck him like a hard fist in his gut. Her head was all he could see protruding from a narrow doorway into a short hall. Her hair defied gravity, sticking out every which way on her head. Except for the often-altered hair color, she hadn’t changed one glorious iota.

“LouAnne had to step out,” Claire informed him, still mimicking a curious turtle.

He glanced at the rapt gazes. Oh, man. Face time with her was guaranteed to be awkward, but he’d be damned if he’d entertain an audience. “Could I speak to you a moment? In private.”

Two heads swiveled between him and Claire, blatantly eavesdropping, and he cursed silently. The story would be all over town tomorrow, curiously picked at by the Busy Biddies Brigade like hens over a mound of feed. Lord only knew what spin they’d put on it.

“Uh . . . sure. Come on back.” From the expression on her face, Claire didn’t look forward to this any more than he did.

“Ladies.” He acknowledged the customers in a manner befitting his Southern upbringing and joined Claire in the small room, not much bigger than a closet.

She shut the door.

Immediately, the miniscule place grew warmer. He feigned indifference to her nearness by checking out the tiny area. Shallow shelving lined one wall, overflowing with bottles and tubes. The opposite wall held a small counter and cabinets, a double sink and more shelves.

“What are you doing here, Travis? I thought we agreed not to see each other again.” She whispered the words through lips tight with tension.

He counted to ten.
They
hadn’t agreed on anything. She’d ended things between them without giving him a real chance. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here to work up an estimate on remodeling the shop.”

“I thought you were a big shot. Why not send a flunky?” she muttered. Turning to the small counter, she poured white liquid into a small bowl of powder and stirred. A noxious odor assailed his nostrils.

“Augh! That’s nasty.” He stepped away from the goopy concoction turning reddish-brown, and backed into overstocked shelves. Beauty products rained all around him.

Grabbing wildly, he grazed Claire’s thigh while catching a bottle. He offered it to her, trying to ignore memories of the last time they’d been this close. And alone.

Eight months ago. The night of their first and only date.

One thing he remembered quite well. Claire had worn a soft, two-piece dress with a flirty lace skirt that fell into points, allowing him tantalizing glimpses of surprisingly shapely legs, considering her slender figure. Today’s outfit, a black and white geometric-patterned mini dress with fishnet stockings, was far from that. And her hair had been a soft pink.

All the signals she’d exuded told him she was amenable to the idea of taking their date to a more intimate level. To this day he couldn’t say what made him step away from her kisses to suggest a couple more dates the next week, but she’d been furious. Acted like he’d insulted her.

The woman was a nut job. Since when was getting to know your date better a crime? Maybe she’d had second thoughts about dating someone with his reputation.

He’d sort of fallen into the rebellious teen thing due to raging hormones and a healthy curiosity. His reward had been the so-called good girls. It seemed the bad boy element turned them on enough they’d risk parental wrath with everything from intentionally seeking detention to sneaking out at night to “go parking.” Over a decade later those hellion days still surfaced occasionally to haunt him.

Claire hadn’t struck him as the type to care about such things.

“You’re a bull in a beauty shop,” she said with a shake of her head. Large lacy-looking earrings swung wildly about a neck just as delectable now as then.

He started to correct her, but promptly forgot how the adage went when she reached past him, her face mere inches from his own. The aroma of hair products reached him first, followed by a delicate underlying scent. Damn. He remembered that too.

Not likely he’d forget Claire quickly applying lotion to her hands and arms before they went to dinner, how soft her hand felt when he’d helped her from the car, or how the fragrance had lingered on his skin.

He remained perfectly still, fighting his
definitely
not-listening body’s response.

She replaced the bottle on the shelf without meeting his gaze and stilled. Inches apart, he swore he could feel the heat from their bodies comingling in the air between them. Claire exhaled and stepped back.

A balloon-like pop sounded, and darkness descended. Startled shrieks emanated from the front of the shop, followed by excited jabbering.

Travis reached for the doorknob, his hand closing over Claire’s. He pulled back, hearing her slight intake of breath before she swore.

“Stay put.” Her aggravated voice halted him. “Your expertise isn’t needed. The breaker box and I frequently meet in the dark.”

What had he done to irritate her so? “Maybe that’s your problem, Claire. You don’t need anybody.”

She froze in the now open doorway, light from the front windows allowing him a glimpse of her face. For a split second he thought she flinched, but the look she shot him as she left contained venom.

If anyone should have attitude here, it would be him. He was the one she’d rebuffed and it had stung, more than he wanted to remember. The fragile, waiflike look of her heart-shaped face once brought out his protective side, but he’d learned there was a barrier of steel beneath the surface—cold, hard and unyielding where he was concerned.

Who needed that? It certainly didn’t factor into his idea of the perfect woman. She would be . . . normal, loving and kind as well as sexy, someone willing to commit to building a long-term relationship and raising a family. She’d recognize he’d left his less-than-ideal past behind.

Yet he stood here wanting Claire, his perfect woman’s polar opposite. What was wrong with him?

Toward the back of the shop, a rusty creak and a snap jolted him. The lights flickered back on, and he managed to retrieve four fallen bottles before Claire appeared once again in the doorway.

“Did you pick that hair color from a Crayola box or the produce section, darlin’?” He intentionally drawled the words to annoy her. Her daring do was never the same hue for longer than a few weeks, not that it bothered him. She managed to carry off the look quite well. But for someone so bold, she hated comments on her look.

Her back straightened. “Put those on the shelf and leave the rest. LouAnne said you were here to give her an estimate.”

“Do you know the scope of the remodel?”

“I think we’ve got air in the pipes and the electrical system’s overloaded, but I wouldn’t call it a remodel.” Claire returned to the task of stirring reddish-brown goop, her flushed skin clashing with her hair.

He gave her a slow once-over, deliberately letting the silence stretch until she glanced back over her shoulder at him.

Regardless of her off-beat style, she remained one of the prettiest women he’d ever seen, with her pert nose and pouty lips. He figured his hands would easily span her waist and knew her belly button had a tiny wanded fairy dangling from it.

The memory made his hands itch to feel her soft skin again. Too bad she wouldn’t welcome his touch.
Concentrate, man
. “You’re right. This place doesn’t need a remodel. It needs a complete overhaul.”

Claire snorted. “A little TLC and regular maintenance is all. Why’d she call you?”

“Because
she’s
a woman who knows a good thing when she sees it. LouAnne wants someone she can trust.”

Claire’s mouth opened, then closed into a firm line. “And she got you instead. Since she’s obviously not here, why don’t you have a look around and call her later?”

And leave me alone
.

The unspoken words shimmered between them. For one wild moment, Travis considered crowding Claire and giving her a refresher course on how fast their kisses had caught fire.

Unfortunately, such a move would put him much closer to the awful-smelling mixture she’d concocted, and the foul mess would likely end up dumped on his head. The woman’s behavior was unpredictable, and he didn’t need the aggravation.

“Pretend I’m not here. I’ll take a few measurements, check a few things and get back to LouAnne with an estimate.”

Claire shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He should leave her boss a note on his business card, but right now he needed a little distance and a lot of answers. Maybe he’d start with a look at the roof.

A half hour later, he stood on the sidewalk and took a deep breath to clear his lungs and dispel lingering frustration. Man, was he glad to leave there. Next time he’d be better prepared.

Next time?

Personal reasons aside, Massey & Co. Construction would be crazy to take on such a small project when they had much bigger fish to fry. Maybe it was the gruff way Zeb had requested he leave their biggest project to date and hightail it to Sweetwater Springs, but something about the scenario made Travis jumpy.

At the same time, he acknowledged the salon needed expert help and fast. Travis was surprised the fire marshal hadn’t already shut them down because of the ancient wiring. The thought of LouAnne and Claire working in that place made him shudder, not to mention the clientele. Hell, his mama was a regular here, Rosie too. 

A local company wouldn’t have Massey’s resources. They’d probably drag out the job for months. Travis found it unlikely either woman could stand for their income to be curtailed for weeks, let alone months.

Not liking the direction of his thoughts, he paused on the sidewalk to absorb the warmth of spring and scrutinized the area. Most of the buildings in this section of town had been built in another era. Some of them, like the salon and Rosie’s Posies next door, had been well cared for. Good thing, too. The architecture had character in spades and lent the small downtown area a certain charm.

Despite the idyllic setting, itchy dissatisfaction and lingering need hummed in his veins, making the prospect of sitting behind his desk for several hours unattractive. Since he was within shouting distance of his sister’s shop, Travis walked under a floral sign and through the door. An old-fashioned bell announced his arrival.

“Travis. What a surprise! I’d practically forgotten what you look like,” Rosie teased.

“Hey. How’s business?” The potpourri of delicate floral fragrances drifted over him like mist.

“Can’t complain. What are you doing here this time of day? I thought you were on a sunup-to-sundown work schedule.”

“Estimating a project next door. Thought I’d stop by and see if you’d like to take an early lunch.” The best excuse he could come up, considering he felt a sudden, uncharacteristic urge to grill his sister for information.

“Oh, shoot. I can’t. I’m holding down the fort today.”

As Claire’s friend, Rosie might be able to shed some light on Claire’s past behavior, so he could move on. “How about I park my truck behind the building so I’m not taking a customer spot and come back with some sandwiches?”

“Sounds good. I’ve got cold drinks here.”

A customer entered the shop, the bell jingling. Travis lifted a hand in farewell and let Rosie get back to work.

* * *

A
s it turned out, Travis had to cool his heels for another half hour after returning to Rosie’s Posies due to a steady stream of customers. Good thing he’d opted for cold cut subs and chips, though he was about ready to rip that infernal bell out of the wall.

“Sorry about that.” Rosie dropped into her desk chair with a sigh and popped the tab on her soda. “Seems like half the town woke up today and decided to put in their orders for Mother’s Day. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Hey, this will be your first one, won’t it? Let me hazard a guess that you won’t be getting flowers?”

“I have no idea what to expect.”

“How are my new brother-in-law and niece?” He hadn’t seen much of Rosie’s instant family over the winter. Indoor projects had kept construction work flowing and the newlyweds had found plenty of excuses to be alone. Except for that week in January, when the shock of Sara’s death had brought them all together.

“They’re fine. Lorelei’s growing like a weed, and Sam’s mired in a new manuscript.” She smiled and focused a dreamy look at the spot where her fingers traced a heart on the desk’s smooth surface.

Travis breathed in deeply as a pang struck him mid-chest. “That’s great. What about J.T. and the boys? He won’t return my calls.”

She opened the wrapped sub he deposited in front of her. “They’re . . .” She shook her head and sighed. “I keep falling back on that stupid phrase ‘as well as can be expected’ but the truth is, our brother is taking a page from your book and burying himself in work. The boys are okay. Mama’s watching them after school because J.T. fired another housekeeper. She and Daddy are talking about taking them on vacation.”

“That doesn’t explain why he’s not answering my calls.” He dug into his sub, hungry now.

Rosie pulled a face in response to his question. “Avoidance. I don’t think he can face the grief. Nothing we can do except give him time. He knows we’re here for him when he’s ready.”