It's In His Smile (A Red River Valley Novel Book 3) (12 page)

“Can we get the things we need?” She looked over the top of the paper in his hand and read the items on the list.

“Sure. Just as soon as you give me this.” He snatched the chisel from her.

“Hey. We agreed that you’re not in charge.”

“Okay, boss, what exactly were you going to do with a chisel?”

“Um.” She bit her lip.

“That’s what I thought.” He replaced the chisel on the rack, and metal clattered against metal.

His phone dinged, and he dug it out of his front pocket. “Jamie’s driving straight back to Red River after class to help out.”

“You’re texting my little brother?”

“Yep. Langston’s on his way to the inn, too.” He tapped on his phone. “I have others lined up, but they’ll have to come and go as they have extra time.”

“I don’t want Jamie neglecting his schoolwork because of the inn.” She knew all too well that putting work over studying led to dropping out, which led to fewer choices in life.

“You should stop treating Jamie like a kid. He’s a grown man.” Talmadge didn’t look up from his phone.

“Excuse me?”

Talmadge thumbed the screen of his smartphone, and his eyes went wide. “Holy—” Cutting off the sentence, he glanced up at her. His face cracked into a wide smile. The sweetest, most honest smile she had ever seen on him. He wielded it like a weapon, and it stole her breath for a second. He turned the phone toward her.

“What the . . . ?” She grabbed the phone.

There she was with Talmadge. On the
Red River Rag
. A picture of them standing inside the inn, one hand pressed flat against his chest like she was pushing him away, the other hand brandishing a screwdriver like she was threatening him, and her face crinkled into a scowl. This one had to have been taken through the window.

“Did they take this from the lift? Who carries a telephoto lens on a ski lift?”

“Could’ve been hiding in the tree line.” His smile got even bigger. “But you’re the bad guy in this one.”

The title of the post read
Miss Cruz resorts to threats! Are such drastic measures necessary, even if she is a woman scorned?

He tried to take the phone away, but she wouldn’t let go.

“I’m not sure you want to see the next one.” His tone turned to concern.

“Why?”

He tried to snatch the phone again, but she turned and pulled it out of reach. She scrolled to the next post. Her chest tightened. A picture of a shirtless Ben Smith wearing a sombrero, with full shot glasses lined up on a cabana bar and the ocean cresting on a beach in the background, glared at her. The
Rag
’s second post of the morning read,
Looks like Red River’s favorite contractor has traded his tools for tequila. But we forgive him as long as he keeps posting shirtless pics to his FB page.

Her heart dropped like a chunk of lead. When it came to trusting men, her judgment was obviously as bad as her mother’s.

Talmadge’s expression wasn’t smug. It was soft and sympathetic.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know what it’s like to make a professional mistake.” He shrugged. “I’ve trusted the wrong people before.” His jaw ticked. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Neither would she. Miranda flipped to the next post by swiping a finger across the screen.

Talmadge peeked over the top of the phone. “I just left the groomer a few minutes ago. Didn’t notice a soul taking pictures. The only other vehicle out this early was the senior center van. Whoever it is, they’re damn good.”

Her vision blurred from rolling her eyes so far back into her head.

A picture of Talmadge and Lloyd going into the grooming salon was there with the headline,
Town hero redeems himself with his pooch. Can he do the same with the woman by renovating her inn now that her contractor has shucked his work boots for flip-flops? Should Mr. Oaks even try?

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!” She glared at him.

He held up both hands. “I didn’t take those pictures.” He pointed to the phone. “That’s your fault. You’re the one who made a public scene at Joe’s and set the whole thing in motion.”

“You have to do something.
Anything.
I can’t have this. Eventually you’re going to be gone—thank the Christ child—and I’m going to be left here with people talking. I can’t have that.”

“In this town? People are gonna talk, Miranda.”

“Well, they can’t!” She shoved the phone back at him.

He took a step closer to her. So close that his fresh, soapy scent closed around her and made her heart skip a beat. “They can.” He didn’t touch her, just crowded in on her so that his height, his broad shoulders, his warmth enveloped her. “And they will. They already are, even more than before because of that kiss at Joe’s.” Her fingers screamed to touch him, so she locked them to her sides “How do you think I can stop it?”

“Um, kick some photographer ass? You’re big enough. You can handle it.”

His head dipped a little closer, and she leaned her head back to look into his eyes.

She should push him away. She really should.

His quickened breaths washed over her and set her skin on fire. Definitely checking into that fire extinguisher.

“I’m not planning to hit anyone.” His voice had gone husky.

“What then?”
Her
voiced turned to gravel.

“Ignore the talk. You can’t stop a gossip rag from gossiping. Trust me, I know.” His arm grazed hers, and something in the air around them stirred.

“What will people think? About us? What if they think I’m like my . . . ?” She swallowed, because his beautiful blue eyes caressing over her face made her want to take every bit of her respectability outside and start a bonfire.

Yep. She needed that fire extinguisher.

“Earn their respect.” They still didn’t touch, but his head tilted forward and his nearness encircled her. Hemmed her in as though his arms were around her. “Put on the best damn festival this town has ever seen.” His stare lingered on her lips again, and the hunger in his eyes was so powerful Miranda wanted to throw herself against him and let him taste his fill.

Aaaand
the rest of her body went up in flames. At that moment, Miranda didn’t feel the weight of shame from her mother’s sexual exploits. At that moment, Miranda knew what a beautiful thing sex could be. Had been. And she didn’t feel at all ashamed of her one time with Talmadge.

That mouth of his curved up again into a soft, sweet smile, like he could read her thoughts.

“You’re smart. You’re organized. More importantly, you’re determined. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have been in a position to take this opportunity my grandmother offered you. So use some of that grit of yours and put together a planning committee. A team of people you trust. Like me.” His tone was so confident that Miranda felt like she could put on the World’s Fair right there in Red River. “And don’t ever give money to your employees. You pay the bills, buy the supplies, or whatever. People will do crazy, unpredictable things for money.”

For the briefest second, something indiscernible raced across his features. Then it was gone, and that odd look, almost like regret, didn’t matter anymore because his blue eyes grazed over her face. So close, so intimate that he might as well kiss her. It turned her insides to a puddle of need.

“I’m not good at asking for help,” she whispered. “I don’t like being rescued. I can take care of my own responsibilities.”

“Letting people help at the right time isn’t a weakness, Miranda. It’s smart business.”

The back of his index finger smoothed across her jawline, and her pulse raced as his lips lingered just a breath from hers. He looked down at her through those heavy lids and thick lashes that probably made every woman in America want to donate money to Save the Whales.

She should step away. Pull out of his magnetic hold and come to her senses.

Instead, her traitorous lips parted, and her eyes slid shut as she waited, anticipated, welcomed his kiss. Lust settled over her like a mist on a cool mountain morning.

A throat cleared behind her. “Uh, sorry.” Mr. McCall’s voice had her shaking the haze from her head. “You kids need anything?”

“Shit,” Talmadge whispered, looking over Miranda’s shoulder toward the front of the store.

“
This
is the kind of person Red River is going to trust with the biggest event of the year?” Mrs. Wilkinson’s snide tone echoed down the aisle. “You’re worse than your mother. At least she didn’t carry on in public. Much.”

Miranda’s breath caught in her chest.

“Just wait until everyone hears about this. They’ll be begging me to step in and take over.”

Oh. Hell. No. This bitter old woman wasn’t going to make Miranda feel worse than she already had.

Miranda turned. Slowly. Methodically. Until she could look Mrs. Wilkinson in the eye. “Go ahead and try.”

Talmadge’s palm pressed into the small of her back. Giving her strength, encouragement, false bravado. Because
what the hell was she doing taking on Mrs. Wilkinson?

Miranda drew herself up to stand taller before she chickened out. “
I’m
the chairperson this year.” Holy crapoly, she must be crazy talking like this. “And as long as I’m doing my job, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Mrs. Wilkinson sniffed. “We’ll see about that.” Her shoes clicked against the cement floor as she turned and stomped out of the store.

Mr. McCall gave Miranda a nod. “Since you’re my first customer of the day, I’ll give you a nice discount.” He scratched his scruffy gray beard. “And I’ll donate any supplies you need for the gazebo.”

Talmadge smiled down at her like he was proud. “There you go. Another person for Team Miranda, and it’s only eight in the morning. You’ll be headed for world domination by dinner tonight.”

Miranda tried to smile. “How about we buy stuff to build a bomb shelter?” Because she was sure she’d just started a war.

C
hapter
T
en

Talmadge followed Miranda back to the inn to start the day’s work. As he motored down a virtually empty Main Street, his phone rang. A Seattle number he’d come to know and dread popped onto the screen, and he declined the call. The reporter who was stalking him wouldn’t take a hint. When his voicemail beeped with a new message, he set his cell to speakerphone and listened.

“Mr. Oaks.” Her voice grated, even though it was smooth and fluid. “I’m going to run a story about your relationship with Monica Strayer with or without your input.” His hands tightened around the steering wheel. There was no relationship. It was a publicity stunt to get the cheesy gossip columnist a raise or maybe a promotion, and more headlines for Miss January, who couldn’t seem to keep her career going any other way. “She’s given me a quote, and I wanted to give you a chance to do the same.” The reporter’s voice went silky. Calculating. “And I wondered if you’d care to comment on why you’ve decided to take a sabbatical during potentially one of the biggest environmental catastrophes in the Pacific Northwest since the
Exxon Valdez
. A catastrophe that your firm is responsible—”

He punched the End button.

He turned onto the inn’s driveway and parked next to Miranda as she hopped out of her Jeep and grabbed an armful of supplies from the back. He plunked his elbow against the window and rested his fist against his chin.

The inferior supplies her old contractor bought and Talmadge had thrown out had been rescued from the Dumpster and were organized on the front porch.

It was gonna be a long damn day.

He grabbed two sacks from McCall’s out of the backseat and followed Miranda up the walkway. The first hints of spring flowers were starting to peek through the snow-patched dirt along the front of the inn. Bulbs he’d helped Bea plant as a kid.

“There’s a reason I threw all this out.” He climbed the porch steps and eyed the materials. “The insulation and drywall are the cheapest on the market, the nails will rust, and those two-by-fours don’t meet code.” He stomped some mud off his feet before walking through the front door. “You’ll save money in the long run if you use better materials.”

She set her armful of supplies on a workbench and leaned a hip against it. “I’m not used to wasting things. I’ve always had to make do with what I had. Throwing things out that have never been used gives me hives.”

Another thing Talmadge admired about her. She knew how to conserve. That was the cornerstone of his specialized field—conserving energy and resources. Conserving everything except money. Green architecture was expensive. Which was why he’d invested so much of his money . . . okay, all of his money into Trinity Falls. He’d wanted to ante up and show his investors how much confidence he had in the project.

He set his sacks down next to her load and faced her. “How about we compromise and I try to find another use for some of them?”

She crossed her arms under her full breasts. It would’ve been a sight that inspired dirty thoughts if not for that silly T-shirt.

“Deal. Can at least a few of the supplies be used in a storage closet?” Her eyes lit. “Oh! How about we use the wood and drywall to make cute decorations for the rec center?”

Talmadge froze for a second before he recovered. “That’s one option.”

“When will we start on the rec center, anyway?” The sincerity in her expression made him want to grab one of the cheap nails off the porch and stick it in his eye.

“Uh.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “We have our hands full right now. If you want to outsmart Mrs. Wilkinson, it’s not a good idea to spread ourselves too thin.” He almost choked. Trinity Falls had spread him so thin he should be transparent by now. “We’ll figure out the rec center later.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes went soft. Her gaze dropped and she picked at a fingernail.

She was thanking him. For a rec center that he never intended to build. Which made him want to stick a
rusty
nail in his eye.

“I’m not very good at accepting help.” She picked harder.

He leaned against the bench, too, and bent a knee. Which grazed her thigh, and a sizzle of desire skittered up his leg to his groin. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

Her head bobbed up, eyes rounded. But when she saw his smile, she let out a breath, and the tension in her shoulders eased. “I don’t want to be needy, that’s all.”

Ah, mommy issues. He could relate.

The way she’d pretty much raised herself and still turned out so good, only to let the sound of Mrs. Wilkinson’s voice make her entire body go stiff at the hardware store and the soft, vulnerable look on her beautiful face right this minute made him
want
to rescue her whether she needed it or not, the same as he wanted to save the world. Give something back because of what he’d taken away. She’d lost so much of her childhood, but it hadn’t been her fault the way his loss had been his. He couldn’t help but touch her, even though he shouldn’t.

He brushed a finger over her soft, creamy cheek, then put that same finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. A cloud of lust swirled around them as fierce as a tornado.

“Needing help and being needy are two very different things, Miranda.” His hand dropped to her neck, and he caressed it with his thumb. A slow burn started in his fingertips, skated up his arm, and stole the breath from his chest. “You’re definitely not needy.”

She swallowed. “Thank you for everything.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “Only a handful of people have ever had my back like you have.”

“Maybe because you haven’t let them.” Before she could disagree with him, he let his lips graze hers. Just a soft graze, but a rush of excitement jolted through him, and he had to go back for more.

Her mouth opened and he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue in to find hers. Her lips were like velvet, and she let out a little whimper when he laced his arm around her waist and pulled her into him.

And then some asshole cleared his throat behind them for the second time that morning. “Uh, sorry,” said Langston. “Should I come back later?”

Pain lanced through Talmadge’s shoulder when Miranda pushed at it to break his hold on her. He winced, but Miranda didn’t seem to notice in her frenzy to put distance between them.

Hell yes, he’d rather Langston come back later. Talmadge rubbed his shoulder and shot daggers at Langston with a scowl. Which was totally undeserved because Langston was using his days off to help with the inn. Langston had also just saved him from making a mistake that both Talmadge and Miranda would likely regret.

But damn if her steel-toed boots, which contrasted with her tight jeans with the bling on the pockets, didn’t turn him on like a thousand-watt bulb. Completely inefficient but well worth the energy. And it would’ve been nice to finish that kiss.

“No!” Miranda all but yelled at Langston. “Stay. Please.”

Langston’s hesitant look darted back and forth between them, probably uncertain where his loyalty should lie.

Talmadge waved him in. “We were just getting started.”

“I could see that.” Langston raised a brow, his tone smart-alecky.

Miranda shot him a frantic look. “With work. We were just getting started with work.”

“Uh-huh.” Langston’s brow stayed raised, which seemed to irritate Miranda all the more. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

“Shut up.” Miranda pointed to the bar. “There’s bagels if you’re hungry.” She spoke to Langston in that familiar way siblings usually do, and it warmed Talmadge from the inside out.

If he was being honest with himself, because he sure as hell wasn’t being totally honest with Miranda, he was also a little jealous of their familial closeness. The camaraderie, the easy way they exchanged barbs and talked to each other, those things came from a lifetime of living in the same town. It was something Talmadge missed.

“Where should I start, Tal?” Langston asked, shrugging out of his coat.

Talmadge let out a frustrated breath. “Let’s finish the upstairs bathroom this week. After lunch we can start installing the new insulation.” He turned to Miranda. “That okay with you, boss?”

Miranda gave him an appreciative smile like he’d offered her a priceless gift. “That’ll be fine.” If him asking her permission over such a trivial thing made her eyes light like stars, damned if he didn’t want to offer her the moon, too.

Talmadge tried to focus. “Then let’s roll.”

Langston hauled some tools and caulking up the stairs.

“What about me? What should I do?” she said.

He wanted to tell her that she could take off that shirt, get in a hot tub with him, and massage the soreness out of his shoulder. Or kiss it with those velvety lips of hers. But that would only make him a bigger prick than he already was.

He pulled on thick work gloves and handed her a steamer and a scraper. “Can you start taking the wallpaper off in the bedrooms?”

She grabbed the tools.

“I got high-quality insulation yesterday. Much better than the stuff on the porch. I’ll measure and cut it while you and Langston work.” Because his shoulder hurt too much to swing a hammer. He slid a pair of goggles on. “I have an appointment in a little while for my shoulder, but when I get back, I’ll need you to help me install it. I can’t lift my arm high enough to hold it in place, so you can do that while I staple.” He smiled at her. “See? Asking for help isn’t hard.”

She gave him an insincere smile. “Is that why the muscle in your jaw just tensed into granite?”

No. It tensed into granite to match his dick, because he’d really like to see her in nothing but those steel-toed boots. Thinking of anything else but Miranda Cruz naked and writhing under him while she whispered his name was getting more difficult no matter how much he tried.

“My shoulder hurts. I grit my teeth a lot.” His gaze slid from her mouth all the way to her boots. “Ready to work . . .
boss
?”

Moist heat billowed from the steamer as Miranda worked to remove yet another layer of outdated wallpaper from the honeymoon suite. She reminded herself that Talmadge wasn’t in Red River for her. He was there because of Bea. Yes, her intellect understood that. Her body, on the other hand, refused to listen. It was hot and humming for his touch. And her heart, well, she was already losing it to a man who was only helping her out of a sense of duty to his grandmother.

Having a man as sexy as Talmadge Oaks come to her rescue, then touch her and kiss her like he meant it made it really difficult to keep her heart in line. Talmadge’s head appeared through the open doorway. “Hey. How’s it going?” He leaned against the doorjamb.

“Good.” She shut off the steamer and started scraping. “It’s like an archeological dig site. I keep peeling back more layers and don’t know what I’m going to find next.”

His expression darkened, and he stared at the floor. Hellfire, he had to be thinking about Washington. She stopped scraping.

“How is Trinity Falls going?” She’d been so caught up in her own problems she hadn’t bothered to ask about his.

He shook his head. “It’s not.”

“I’m sorry. You really don’t have to stay in Red River.” She cleaned the sticky bits of paper off the end of the scraper. “I’ll figure something out.”

His eyes went cloudy, and he looked around the honeymoon suite like he was remembering. “I always liked this room.” His eyes found hers and held them.

“It’s my favorite room in the house.” She pulled her lip between her teeth, and his eyes followed the movement.

They both startled when Langston yelled up the stairs that he was taking a lunch break and would be gone for a few hours.

Why couldn’t her body do a tap dance for a guy like Langston instead? He was hot and handsome too. He was available and, most importantly, he would stay around. But
naw
. She wanted the one who was leaving.

Must be genetic. She’d have to ask Doc Holloway about that. Maybe there was medication.

Talmadge straightened. “I’m heading out to my appointment. Jamie will be here later. You can handle things here while I’m gone?”