Idle Hours (4 page)

For a full five seconds, Ben considered setting the pretty lady straight. Then he made an executive decision. The idiot who showed up late for the mailbox raising would be plumb out of luck.
 

Ben Corbin had just become a carpenter. At least as far as Lia Stephanos knew, that is.

“Let me make a quick call to the boss man,” Ben said with a grin. “Soon’s I finish talkin’ to Will, why don’t you and me head up to the road and see if we can’t get that nice new mailbox of yours set up on a post?”

“Fine,” she said as she set the mailbox on the porch rail and backed away from it to toy with the little gold cross she wore around her neck. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some, thanks.” Truthfully he wasn’t much of a coffee drinker but he would have happily sipped swamp water if she’d served it with one of those smiles.
 

Ben stared at the empty door then, when his wits caught up with his feet, bounded to the truck and climbed inside to reach for his cell phone. He punched in Will Bryan’s number then waited while the connection was made.
 

Lord, what’s come over me? I’m acting as goofy as a school kid chasing the prom queen.

“Bryan here.”

Taking a deep breath, Ben affected a casual tone. “Yeah, hey, it’s Ben.”

“Hey, Ben,” Will said. “Something wrong?”

“Wrong, uh, no.”
 

He paused to watch Lia emerge onto the porch with a tray that held a silver coffee pot and two blue mugs. She placed the tray on a small table then balanced on the edge of the swing and began to pour. Crossing one long leg over the other, Lia sat back in the swing and took a sip.

Never had he seen denim and a plain white t-shirt look so good. And that ponytail of hers, well on any other gal it might look like she’d forgotten to fix her hair but on Lia it looked like she’d spent all morning making it – and herself – look just right.

She caught him looking and smiled. Ben upped the wattage on his grin and waved.

“Ben, you there?”

“Oh, yeah.” He swallowed hard and forced his attention away from the porch. “Um, see, I was out here looking to get permission for pictures for the fishing tournament and ran into the owner of the property.”

“Are you at Lia Stephanos’s place?”

“Lia Stephanos?” He tried to sound casual. “Yeah, I think that’s her name. Anyway, I figured since I was here and she had a mailbox to put up and all, I’d just help her out.”

Silence.

“Will, you there? I said I thought I’d save your man some trouble and go ahead and help the little lady with her mailbox.”

Was Will laughing?
 

“Yeah, um, okay, Ben.” He paused. There went those muffled sounds again.

Ben stared past the hood of his truck to the trees and the lake beyond, noting the Stephanos woman had cleared out a little patch for gardening. “Somethin’ wrong, buddy?”

“Wrong, um, no,” Will said. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ll just call Bob and tell him he can drop off the new post and cement but he doesn’t have to stay.”

“That’ll be fine.” A thought occurred. “Now I insist on going ahead and payin’ you whatever Miss Stephanos agreed to. Wouldn’t want to be the cause of you losing business.”

“Lia’s like family, Ben,” Will said. “I don’t charge family.”

“Good enough, then.” Ben removed his cap and brushed his hair back with his hand. “I guess she and I’ll be looking for Bob to bring the supplies. Any idea when he’ll be here?”

“Should be any time. He called awhile back and said he was down at the lumber yard changing a flat on the truck.” Will paused. “I’d say you’ve got just enough time to have a cup of coffee and get to know Lia a bit.”

“Well now, I suppose I could do that.” He swung his gaze back to the frilly front porch where the object of his thoughts was studying the lacy pillow beside her. “’Preciate you understanding.”

“Oh, I understand, Ben. Believe me.”

* * *

“It’s hazelnut decaf.” Lia filled his mug then replaced the coffee pot on the tray. “I hope you don’t mind, Ben.”

“Nope, don’t mind a’tall.”

A gentle breeze floated past, carrying the now-familiar scent of pine and fresh earth as Lia studied her guest. He was rather broad through the shoulders and thick through the arms, giving him the look of a man who lived a life that included hard work, fresh air, and sunshine. The deep lines at the corners of his eyes told her he was a few years older than she, and his square jaw gave him an air of distinction.
 

He smiled as he took a sip, and Lia noticed the deep dimple on his left cheek did not have a match on the right. This only served to add interest to what was already quite an interesting face.

The tanned skin on the backs of his hands was criss-crossed with tiny white scars and dotted with a light scattering of cinnamon-colored freckles. Sandy hair covered thick arms that disappeared under the rolled-up sleeves of a red-plaid shirt. Jeans, a feed store ball cap, and work boots completed the picture.

In all, he looked one hundred per cent male and completely out of place in the feminine haven of blue pillows, white wicker, and red potted flowers that she’d created on her porch. And yet, Lia had the strangest feeling that Ben Corbin belonged here.

The bait shop owner leaned against the back of the settee and rested his hand on his knee while he brought the mug to his lips. “It’s delicious,” he said, although the sentiment didn’t quite match the look on his face when he swallowed.
 

“Would you like some sweetener?” She pushed the container of pink, blue, and yellow packets in his direction.
 

Ben took one of each and poured their contents into his mug then stirred. Another taste and his smile seemed genuine. “That’s good stuff.”

“It is?” She regarded him with what she hoped would be a casual look. “So, how long have you worked for Will?” When he seemed puzzled, she clarified. “I mean, Cara told me you own the bait shop in town.”

“Yes, I do,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?”

Lia formed her words carefully. “Well, it’s just that your shop is in such a beautiful location and if . . .” Pausing, she tried again. “What I’m saying is, if you’re working for Will, that must mean the bait shop isn’t doing well. I wonder if you’ve ever thought of selling the place.”

As soon as she said the words, she wanted to reel them in. Closing her eyes, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. How awful of her to bring up a man’s misfortune in such a crass way.
 

She opened her eyes about to apologize when she saw the strangest thing. Ben Corbin was grinning. Not just a weak smile or even one of those expressions you put on when a camera is aimed at you. No, the man was positively beaming.

“Oh, the shop’s doing just fine. More business than I know what to do with most days.” He leveled her an even gaze. “Why?”

The temptation to share her dream gave way to logic. She could never manage the pressures of a restaurant, not now. “No reason.”
 

Lia set her mug on the table with a loud clatter. She looked down to see that she’d upended the container of sweetener packets. Busying herself containing the mess, Lia felt her heart begin to pound.
 

No, Lord, please. Not now.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lia reached for a yellow packet and so did Ben. His fingertips brushed the top of her hand as he retrieved the sweetener and set it atop the tray.

“You’re not gonna faint again, are you?”

“Faint?” Lia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No, of course not. That was terribly embarrassing. I rarely do that, you know. Unlike what my friend, Cara, would have you believe, I am perfectly fine.”

“I like the way you talk.”

Lia shook her head at the abrupt change of topic. “What?”

“You’ve got a real business-like voice,” he said. “Every word you say comes out just right. I can’t place the accent, though. Where are you from?”

“New York, sort of, by way of Greece and Texas.” At his confused look, she chuckled. “Our home was in New York where Papa had his restaurants. He was Greek.” When Ben nodded, she continued. “And my mother, well, she was born and raised in Texas, a real Southern belle. I spent time with both sets of grandparents, so I guess I ended up with a hodge-podge of accents.”

“How did they meet? Your parents, I mean.”

“Mama was a stewardess, I guess they call them flight attendants now, back in the days when they wore hot pants and go-go boots. Papa spied Mama boarding a flight for Houston and raced over to trade his ticket to Athens for one to Texas. He ended up in a cramped seat on the back row of the plane, but the rest, as they say, is history. Papa used to say he’d fallen for Mama because she had nice gams.”

“Gams?”

“Legs.” She shifted positions and reached for her mug. “But that was their own private joke. They both loved the Lord very much and knew He had brought them together. Theirs was no chance meeting in that airport. God put them there so they would find one another.”

Lia looked away, embarrassed that she’d rattled on with a complete stranger. Well, not a complete stranger, but still. She really didn’t know this man.

“That’s a nice story,” he said.
“So.” A gust of North wind blew past, and she pushed a strand of hair from her face. “What about your parents?

 
“Not much to tell, really.” He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the knee then rested his hands in his lap. “Mama’s family ran a produce stand out on the highway, and Daddy worked for the county on the paving crew. One day Daddy’s crew put a coat of fresh asphalt on the road in front of the produce stand. Mama offered Daddy an apple and the rest is history. His pet name for her used to be Eve.”

“And she would call him Adam?” Lia asked with a chuckle.

Ben gave her a confused look. “Well, that
was
his name. How did you know?”

* * *

Teasing Lia sure was fun. “I’m just jokin’,” he finally said. “His name was Henry.”

Her laughter made him smile, not an easy feat considering his right flank was under attack by a shifting mound of lacy pillows and his left side was being gored by a particularly sharp piece of wicker. No, this lady’s front porch was way out of his comfort zone.

And yet he could have sat here all afternoon with a goofy grin and a cup of girlie coffee.

Too bad he spied a vehicle coming up the road.
 

“That must be the supplies.” Ben rose to head for the steps. “I do thank you for the coffee,” he said over his shoulder. A thought occurred and he stopped short. “Hey, I was wondering somethin’. The Terros always let us use the boat dock during the fishin’ tournament. Now that you own the property, I wonder if you might be of a mind to continue the tradition. Its mostly for pictures and such.”

“Like the one on the calendar?”

Ben nodded as he stepped onto the fresh cut grass. Will’s man waved from the gate then climbed out of his truck.
 

“Be right there, Bob,” Ben called. “So anyway, we mostly use the dock for pictures, but the occasional fisherman may need to tie up there dependin’ on the weather. I promise to keep the intrusion to a minimum.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Lia stood and picked up the tray. “When is this tournament?”

“End of July.”

She wore an expression that troubled him. One of those “I’ve-got-a-great-idea” looks that women got when they were planning trouble.
 

“Do they let women enter?”
 

There it was. Trouble.

“Well, sure,” he said. “We’ve had a woman or two join us.”
But none as pretty as you,
he wanted to add.

A moment passed, and he realized Lia had nothing more to say. With a shake of his head and a smile, he tucked the flowery mailbox under his arm and strolled to the gate to converse with Bob. By the time the cement and post was unloaded, Lia had joined him with a hammer, shovel, and screwdriver.

“I thought we might need these.”

“We?” he asked as he tipped his hat back.
 

“Yes,
we
,” she stated in a matter-of-fact way. “The way I see it, two can work better than one.”

“I believe the Bible does say something about that,” he replied as he accepted the shovel from her outstretched hand.
 

“Yes, Ben, I believe it does.”

Lia stared at him a moment too long for his comfort. Well, actually it didn’t make him feel bad, the way she looked at him. Rather, it made him feel good.
 

Which he didn’t much like.

A confirmed bachelor thinking of setting off to see the world didn’t need to be entertaining ideas of sipping sweet coffee and teasing pretty women on a regular basis. It was a hazard to his plans, even if it did promise to be a balm to his soul.

“Well now,” he said as he pushed any thoughts besides those directly related to setting a mailbox post out of his mind. “How about I dig the hole while you fetch the water hose and a bucket? Once I get the spot set up, we’ll mix and pour then set the post.”

And with any luck you’ll get tired and go back inside. That way I won’t be so distracted.
 

* * *

Not only did Lia fetch the hose, but she also mixed the quick set concrete like a pro. “Grandaddy had a ranch where I spent most of my summers. This is just like setting fence posts,” she said by way of explanation.
 

He couldn’t resist teasing the city girl once more. “And you say you’re from New York?”

His joke was rewarded with a laugh that set his heart to thumping.

“Yes, I am, Ben, but I can milk a cow or run a trot line, if need be.”

Now that did beat all. “You know about trot lines?”

Lia nodded. “The lazy woman’s way to fish a stream.”
 

Run for the hills, Ben Corbin. You’ve just found a pretty woman who fishes and sets fence posts.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“You going to stand there all day, Ben, or are you going to help me stir this concrete?”
 

“Well finally.” He nudged her out of the way and took up the shovel. “Something Lia Stephanos can’t do.”