Only You (19 page)

“I don't think so.”

“Then I prove my point: I'm completely clueless about these things. I need you to go with me and help pick them out.”

“Surely Megan can help you. She's the one who got you into this.”

“She's busy and I need to have the total within the next couple of days.” He felt like an ass as he watched her want to tell him no yet not being able to turn away.

She looked down at her feet, then back up at him. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why not?”

She looked directly into his eyes. “I'm not going to date you, Kevin.”

“I know. We've already agreed on that. I've moved on.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you saying you're still hung up on me?”

Her mouth parted but she didn't respond. He added, “We would never work as a couple. You have a vicious dog who wants to eat my cat.”

She started to protest, then stopped when she saw the grin spread across his face. “Killer isn't even my dog.”

“Still wouldn't work.”

She laughed.

He took several steps toward her. “But I really meant it when I said I wanted to be friends.” He shifted his weight. “Look, I had fun yesterday, and I think you did, too. Didn't that prove we can hang out and have fun without the fringe benefits? I'll promise to pay you with more food.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of food are we talking about?”

“I'm open to options. But in all seriousness, you and your cousin did an amazing job on your grandmother's house. I could use your expertise and good taste.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she seemed to be considering it. “I'd need to change clothes.”

“Not if you don't want to. We can take my truck straight to the hardware store, then we can stop somewhere to eat.”

When she hesitated, he added, “I'd dress up more”—he glanced down at his jeans and sweat-stained T-shirt—“but then you might construe it as a date, which it definitely isn't. But I
would
like to take a quick shower and change my shirt before we go. So what do you say?”

She gave him a playful look. “About changing your shirt?”

“About helping me, although I'll let you have a say in that, too, if it will convince you.”

She studied him for a moment. “Fine. I'll help you, but hurry. I'm hungry.”

“Yes, ma'am. If you want to wait at your house, I'll come get you when I'm ready.” He left her in the backyard and bolted up the stairs and took one of the quickest showers of his life. He was back downstairs in less than five minutes, surprised to find her in the kitchen with his notepad and a tape measure.

“You need measurements if you want to get an accurate list of what you need in here, so I started marking things down.” She had her gaze on the wall with the window facing the side yard.

“Yeah, of course.” He would have thought of that, although probably at the store.

She wrote something down on the paper. “Since you're taking out this wall, you could put a really nice island here and not only get an eating space but additional storage.” She lifted her face, her gaze lingering on him for longer than a friendly glance would.

Friends. We're friends.
God, he wanted her. But he was fairly sure if he made a move on her right now, he'd lose her forever. He'd rather have this than nothing at all. He stuffed his hands into his front pockets. “Yeah, Matt thinks it's a good idea and that it will increase my property value.”

“I agree.” She looked up at him and took a breath, glancing down at the paper for a moment, then back at him. “I took measurements of everything as well as photos on my phone.”

“Oh, good thinking.”

“Are you ready to go?” she asked. “No offense, but I think hell is cooler than your house right now.”

He laughed. “You might be right.”

For the next few hours he followed her around the chain hardware store, while she helped him pick out appliances, cabinets, countertops, light fixtures, and paint colors. He ordered the cabinets and appliances—job or not, the house had to have a kitchen—but held off on the rest, making a list of prices to add to the total he needed to finish the house. He worried that he was imposing on Holly's time, but she seemed to love every minute of it.

They went to the nearby Mexican restaurant. As they sat down, Holly glanced at him, her eyes bright with happiness. “Other than yesterday, I haven't had that much fun in ages.”

He considered asking her if that included Friday night, because he sure as hell hoped not, but he didn't want to spoil the moment. Besides, he had to admit it was a different kind of fun that he'd enjoyed, too.

He couldn't think of a single woman he'd really been friends with. Maybe that had been his problem all along.

S
he'd fully intended to end their “friendship,” but after their night of shopping, she couldn't make herself do it. Had he made a single move on her, she would have done it in a heartbeat, but he'd been a perfect gentleman. And not only that, she really did enjoy spending time with him.

They spent over an hour at the restaurant, talking about Kevin's friends, Matt and Tyler, and the time he'd spent in the marines before his enlistment ended.

He asked more about her life growing up with her cousin and grandmother. She told him stories about getting by when money had been tight. Her grandmother had been a retired widow living on social security when the two little girls moved in.

“Don't feel sorry for me,” she said when she saw the pity in his eyes. “I love my grandmother. If I couldn't have my parents, then there's no one else I would have rather lived with, a family with money included.”

He gave her a questioning look.

“When I was in the fourth grade, a school counselor suggested to my grandmother that she give me and Mel up to a family who could provide more for us.”

His mouth dropped open. “You're kidding me.”

She shook her head, surprised at the anger in his eyes. “But Grandma told her off in her own sweet way—thanking her for her suggestion, then letting her know our house was full of love and all the money in the world couldn't buy that.”

“So you get your sweet disposition from her.”

Holly eyed him, thinking he was hitting on her with the statement, but it was clear he meant it. “I'm not always sweet. I have my moments.” She grinned. “Oh, by the way, Megan and I may have taken care of your fiancée problem.”

He hesitated, then said, “So I heard.”

She wasn't surprised Megan had told him. But what else had she said? “I wasn't so sweet with Bethany.”

“Oh…” he drawled. “I have to disagree there. You were sweet to help me get rid of her.”

“Was she really that bad?” Holly teased. “Your mother approves of her.”

“Don't you think that's grounds alone to steer clear of her?” He laughed. “But since you and I are friends, maybe you should get to know her better. You could take her out to lunch and come up with a list of reasons for me to go out with her.”

Grinning, she shook her head. “Trust me, I'm one of the last people Bethany wants to see after I told her that her wedding design included mini baby carriages lining the aisle.”

Kevin chuckled. “She might have gone for it if they were covered in crystals.” He narrowed his gaze in mock seriousness. “You don't have any weird food preferences, do you? Or any strange hobbies?”

“You just watched me inhale a burrito.” She gestured to the empty plate in front of her. “Enough said about that. As for hobbies, does collecting shrunken apples carved with the faces of my old boyfriends count as strange? I have them hanging in my closet if you'd like to see them.”

His eyes widened.

“I'm still trying to decide which type of apple to use for you.” She held up her hands, squinting as she studied his face through a square she formed with her thumbs and index fingers. “A Granny Smith would work with your jawline, but a Fuji would be better for your forehead. Which one do
you
prefer?”

His face paled. “Uh…”

“Or maybe I should just go with a white peach to match the color of your face right now.” She burst out laughing, which filled her with another happiness all on its own. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed this hard.

He pushed out a huge breath. “Please God, tell me none of that is true.”

“Well…I
did
carve an apple face in third grade, and I
did
try to make it look like Stewart McPhee after he stole my sparkly pink glitter pen, but I don't have it hanging in my closet.

He shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh. “If you had any idea what some of my old girlfriends have done, you might not have found that so funny.”

Her smile fell, jealousy burning her chest at the thought of him with other women. But there was no denying that Kevin was a sexy, single man. It was only a matter of time before he'd find a girlfriend. She wasn't sure she could stand on the sidelines and watch when that happened.

“No wonder my sister bought the house next door to you,” Kevin said, shaking his head with a grin, oblivious to her change in mood. “Turns out you're just as ornery as she is.”

The smile she flashed him was genuine. “I'm going to take that as a compliment.” She paused, unsure what to do with her unexpected reaction. “I should get home. I have to prepare for my presentation tomorrow.”

Disappointment filled his eyes, but he still grinned at her. “Then let's get you home before you turn into a pumpernickel.”

“Pumpkin.”

“You get your shrunken-apple heads, I get to pick what you turn into.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. But I offered to let you pick what apple to carve your face with. I want to be an angel food cake.”

His eyes darkened, leaving little to her imagination as to where his mind wandered. “More like devil's food.”

Damn if she didn't want to live up to the title and be wicked. But then she reminded herself that she had been the one to set up the ground rules.

When they hit the parking lot, Holly's skin turned clammy from the humidity. She thought of Kevin going back to sleep in his sweltering house, then she impulsively suggested, “Why don't you spend the night at my house?”

Once the words were out, she wondered if she'd been struck with temporary insanity. Or if her subconscious was sabotaging her decision.

“Uh…” He looked shell-shocked.

Oh, God. He thought she was propositioning him.

“On my sofa,” she said to remind herself as well.

“Of course, your sofa,” he said seamlessly, as though he knew that all along. “We're just friends. But what about your cousin?”

“She's in Las Vegas with her friends. She'll be back on Thursday morning.”

“What about Mr. Whiskers?”

She grinned. “So you're admitting he's a boy?”

“I had two gerbils when I was a kid. I named them Mr. and Mrs. Nibbles. Turns out I had them wrong.”

“Is that your way of telling me you can't tell the gender of any species?”

He burst out laughing. “Some species I have no trouble at all with. You're all woman, Holly Greenwood.”

She blushed, but his statement didn't come across as raunchy, and he pushed on as though trying to move past any awkwardness he may have caused.

“Even after I found out I had it wrong—after Mr. Nibbles gave birth to six baby gerbils—I still called them Mr. and Mrs. Nibbles. At least for the few weeks I still had them. My mother couldn't tolerate the idea of something procreating in our house.”

“She said that?”

He grinned. “She definitely didn't want more baby gerbils.”

At the mention of his mother, an uncomfortable silence spread between them. She dared to search his face. “So, will you spend the night on my sofa? I really hate the idea of you in that house.”

He seemed to be considering it, then he released a heavy breath. “I have to admit that I wasn't looking forward to going back to the inferno. But I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with me there.”

“I'd be more uncomfortable if you don't stay at my house.”

So they'd gone back home and he'd shown up on her doorstep about fifteen minutes later with a duffel bag in one hand and Whiskers in the other. She'd already put a blanket and pillow on the end of the sofa and had changed into a pair of knit shorts and a tank top, her hair piled up on top of her head in a messy bun.

“I've already warned Melanie you're staying here until the heat wave passes, so don't worry.” Melanie's texted response had made it clear that she didn't approve, but it was Holly's decision.

“If it's too big an imposition…”

“You're sleeping on the sofa. Not moving in. Feel free to watch TV, but I'll be over here preparing for a meeting tomorrow.” She gestured toward the papers and laptop on her dining room table.

He froze in the middle of her living room. “I interrupted your work by asking you to help me earlier.”

“No. It's good I had a few hours to kind of forget about it and tackle it fresh. I've spent all my free time over the weekend and all of today on it, so I'm ready. But it's the big job I told you about and since I have so much riding on it, it has to be perfect.”

He walked over to her, looking over the plans. “What do you have left to do?”

She held her breath, pushing back the anxiety. “I have everything together. I just need to run through my presentation.”

“Want to practice on me?”

She eyed him with suspicion. “You want me to present this
wedding
to you?”

“Sure, why not?” He held up the kitten still in his hand. “Mr. Whiskers is hoping to find a Mrs. Whiskers. He's looking for wedding ideas.”

She shook her head, trying to keep from smiling like an idiot. “Okay. I'll pretend like you're Miranda and Whiskers can be Coraline.” She picked up a glass of water and took a drink. “I need you to sit here.” She pointed to a dining room chair.

Kevin did as he was told, and she sat in the chair next to him.

“Coraline, I spent some time thinking of a theme for your wedding that would work with the three-week time constraint yet be the wedding you deserve, and I think I've come up with the perfect concept.” She grabbed an electronic tablet from the table and set it in front of him, sliding the screen to show him the full-page photo of an outdoor table setting with white lights strung overhead. “A Tuscan outdoor wedding will fit perfectly with the venue and hopefully it will bring a bit of sentiment to the wedding since you and Donald met and began dating in Italy.” She then went on to tell him all the details, from the place settings to the menu, to the flower selection. She slid the screen as she spoke, pointing out things in the photos she planned to incorporate. “I know you're questioning whether there's enough time to get everything arranged in time, and I can assure you we can. I've already spoken to all the service providers and all of them are holding the date open for you. We'll need to go to the various places and finalize the details—the caterer will provide a sampling of options for the sit-down dinner, and the cake decorator will give us options for flavors and design, but they have fit you into their schedules. The musicians will need a list of songs to play, which you or I can come up with, or it can be a collaboration. There are a host of various other details that need to be attended to, but I have no doubt we can pull this off and give you the wedding of your dreams. Once you give me your approval, I'll move forward, but first we need to discuss the financial aspect.”

She turned the page while Kevin took a sip of water. He began to cough when his gaze landed on the total. “Seventy-five thousand dollars?”

“You have no idea how hard this has been to pull off. I had to sweet-talk most of the vendors. And I need to go in with a strict guideline of what she can chose from or it will become the circus the last planner came up with. She's a spoiled rich girl who is used to getting what she wants. I just need to let her think she's calling the shots—and she will be, from a pre-chosen list of things she can chose from. Then hopefully Miranda, Coraline, and your mother are all happy.”

“And what about you?” he asked? “Are you happy?”

“The wedding will be beautiful. It's a dream wedding, and I'm lucky to have the chance to work on it.”

A knowing smile lit up his eyes. “Ah…but that's not what I asked, is it? This wedding plan is amazing, and I have no idea how you pulled it all together so quickly. Based on what I've seen and how much my mother feels threatened by you, it's clear that you're incredible, but I asked if you were
happy
.”

“No one cares if I'm happy. My job is to make sure the bride gets the wedding of her dreams and raves about Distinctive Events, which brings the business more jobs.” When he didn't respond, she added. “I love planning weddings. And I love making enough money to provide for my grandmother.”

“But my mother makes things difficult.” It wasn't a question.

She sighed. “I confess that I spend a lot of time anxious about whether
she's
happy or not.”

“That's no way to live.”

She shook her head. “It is what it is. Nothing is ideal. But hopefully this wedding will go well—I'll get a lot of referrals—and I can open my own shop. I have a plan.”

He remained silent, but he looked troubled.

Holly sighed and rose from her seat. “It's been a long day and I need to get up early to head over to Olathe, Kansas, in the morning so I think I'll get ready for bed.”

He stood in front of her. “Thanks for helping me tonight. Not only do you have an eye for wedding details, but for remodeling, too. If left to my own devices, my house would look like it had been decorated by kindergartners. I owe you.”

“I've loved doing it.” And she had. She was beginning to think the “friend” thing might work after all. If she could forget how much she wanted more.

But sleep was elusive. Instead, her thoughts lingered on the man sleeping on her sofa and the things he'd made her feel in this bed. But now it was more than that. She genuinely liked him, and she loved how she felt around him. She felt as though she could let her guard down with him and let out the lighthearted side of her that had been locked up for years, even before her grandmother had gotten sick. He made her want to stretch out of her comfort zone and seriously consider opening her own business, once she got through the Johansen wedding. And he made her want to take a chance on love, but not just with anyone. She wanted take a chance with
him
.