Chapter Five
All Gemma wanted was a long, hot bath where she could clean off the filth covering her body and soothe her aching muscles all at once. When she pulled into Aunt Beth's driveway that evening and saw Saxon on a ladder in front of the broken picture window, she knew she had one more battle to face before she found any comfort.
Her muscles had locked up on the short drive from the bakery. She wasn't used to so much physical labor, and prying up wet floorboards and tearing apart heavy waterlogged cabinets was more work than she'd expected.
Or hoped.
She had no idea how she was going to get the bakery in shape to open in three weeks—twenty days now—much less order supplies, scrub the bakery clean, and fill the display shelves with treats in time for the first flood of tourists. It seemed like every task she'd accomplished today had led her to uncover two more problems she hadn't known were lurking.
She didn't know if that broken pipe she'd found under the floorboards was bringing water into the bakery or draining it out, but either way, it was one more thing she had to learn how to fix.
She'd research it tonight and try to determine just how bad it was, but she'd promised herself a long, hot bath first. As it was, her arms were so weak and wobbly from all of the backbreaking work, she didn't know if she could even lift her laptop.
As she moved to get out of her car, her back muscles locked up in mutiny. She'd pushed too hard today, and now she was being punished.
For a terrifying second, she didn't think she'd be able to move. She could feel Saxon's gaze on her, and the last thing she wanted was for him to see her weakness and come rushing to her aid, like she was some frail, old lady.
Gemma steeled herself against the muscle cramp in her back and forced her body to move despite the pain. She plastered a smile on her face so that Saxon couldn't see her discomfort and got out of the car in one sudden, jerky movement.
Once she was on her feet, the cramp eased and she was able to pull in a long, deep breath.
He was already gliding down off his ladder, as nimble as a monkey. Muscles in his back and ass flexed, giving her a display intriguing enough that she almost forgot about her own protesting body.
"What are you doing?" she asked him, her voice sharper than she intended.
"Measuring for a new window. I'll have to put in a custom order as this isn't a standard size."
The plywood covering the broken glass was ugly and blocked the light, but at least it kept out the bugs and weather.
Gemma tried to walk like she wasn't beat up from her day's work, but her steps were slow and shuffling. Saxon's gaze tracked every one of them, and as he watched, his frown deepened.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Just a little stiff."
He stepped into her path, and she didn't have the energy to veer around him. Whatever he wanted to say, she would stand here and take it in an effort to get to her bath faster.
His gaze scrutinized her, those Grace green eyes moving from the top of her dirty head to the bottom of her grungy sneakers and back again. He picked a bit of splintered wood from her hair, then lifted one of her hands in his.
She didn't have the strength to pull out of his grasp, but she couldn't hide the wince of pain his touch caused. Both of her hands were sore and blistered, but the right one had been victim to the worst of the damage. Even through the work gloves she'd purchased earlier today, her hands had taken quite a beating.
As he saw the red, angry skin, his frown darkened to an outright scowl.
"What the hell did you do to yourself?" he demanded.
She jerked her hand away and clasped her sore fingers behind her back. "I'm fine. Have a nice evening, Saxon."
Gemma summoned enough energy to take the first step around his big body, but he shifted faster than her wobbly legs could move and her path was once again completely blocked by wide shoulders and an angry scowl.
"If you think you're just going to dismiss me like I don't see how far in over your head you are, then you're insane."
"It's really none of your concern."
"Well, let's go inside and see if Aunt Beth agrees with you."
A surge of panic welled in Gemma's gut, but she did her best to hide it. If Aunt Beth knew just how bad the bakery was, it would break her heart. Her recovery was precarious enough without adding emotional distress on top of the physical healing she had left to do. "She's not my keeper any more than you are."
"Then why do you look like a kid caught out past curfew?" He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not trying to be an ass, Gemma. I'm just concerned. You're the one who's supposed to be taking care of Aunt Beth, but how can you if you're tearing yourself up doing a job you're clearly not equipped to do."
"I'll manage. I just have some learning to do."
"Learning?"
"You know," she shrugged like it was no big deal. "Carpentry, electrical, plumbing. Just general handyman stuff."
He ran his fingers through his dark hair in exasperation, making a mess of it.
Gemma wanted to smooth the strands so badly she actually swayed toward him.
"Whoa." He grabbed her arms to steady her. "Did you eat today?"
His grip on her bare skin was intoxicating. It flooded her body with some kind of magical painkiller that numbed every ache and soothed every scrape. She had to stifle a groan of pleasure so he wouldn't know the potent effect he had on her.
"I was just going in to make dinner when you stopped me." She meant for her tone to come out as a scold, but instead her words were breathless and husky.
Saxon's hot thumbs stroked over her arms and sent a shiver of delight winging through her bloodstream.
He stared at his grip as if trying—and failing—to convince himself to let go.
His work boots shifted closer to her, closing the gap between them. A bubble formed around their bodies, blocking out the cooling evening breeze and the sounds of children playing nearby. Everything in the world fell away, leaving her completely alone with a man whose touch had some kind of magical power to make her forget why she shouldn't be letting him touch her.
His lips parted, and for a wild, crazy second, she thought he might bend his head and kiss her.
Damn, how she wanted him to. As insane as the thought was, it was the only one in her mind, throbbing with relentless intensity.
But rather than kiss her, he let go and took a long step backward.
Now that his hands were off her, every ache and pain came rushing back. Along with her sanity.
"I should go make dinner. Aunt Beth is probably hungry."
"So am I."
Gemma didn't know if he meant for food or something more, but she was teetering on the edge of giving him whatever he wanted if only he'd touch her again.
Saxon ripped his gaze from her eyes and cleared his throat. "What I mean is that maybe we can reach an agreement."
Her head was reeling from her wild thoughts and she couldn't figure out what he meant. "Agreement?"
"A deal of sorts. I'll trade you repairs on the bakery for food. Lord knows I can't cook worth a damn. Word around town is you're some fancy chef—not that I need anything fancy. I'll settle for edible, which is way better than I can do for myself on all but the rarest occasions."
Gemma stood mute for several seconds as she tried to make sense of his words. "You want me to cook for you? Like a personal chef?"
"Yes, and in exchange, I'll get the bakery up and running again."
She shook her head. "It's not a fair trade. Cooking is easy."
"Then why is everything I make both raw and burned at the same time? Besides, repair work is easy, if you know what you're doing."
"I was going to learn."
"Please don't tell me you were planning on watching some YouTube videos for your education."
The way he said it made it sound like she was an idiot for even thinking she could learn that way.
The bruise to her pride made her straighten her spine and lift her chin. "What's wrong with that?"
"About a hundred things. First, half of those people don't know what they're doing. Second, there's a big difference between learning a general skill like how to wire a circuit and troubleshooting something that's gone wrong with one. Especially an old one. That comes with experience. Third, no matter how many videos you watch, you're not going to be any stronger. It takes a lot of muscle power to do demolition."
She couldn't argue that point. Her muscles would call her an outright liar if she did.
"Fourth, you need to know the right people to talk to—who to butter up and who to steer clear of—if your repairs are big enough that you need to get permits and inspections to make sure you've met current building codes. Fifth, you have to worry about having the right tools and—"
Gemma cut him off. "Enough. I get it. There's no way I can learn what I need to know and make repairs and do everything else that needs to be done before Memorial Day weekend."
His grin was one of pure victory. "Which is why you should take me up on my offer."
She shook her head. "It's not fair. You'd be doing a lot more work than I would. And what about your day job?"
"I've got a little lull in the schedule. And I don't mind working evenings and weekends, especially if I'm well-fed."
Was she really considering his offer? How could she when the scale was so steeply tipped in her favor?
Then again, how could she not when so much hung on her getting the bakery running again? Poor Aunt Beth needed this—she needed Gemma to give her a reason to keep fighting through her recovery.
If it had been anyone else in the world other than Aunt Beth, Gemma would have rejected Saxon's offer outright and walked away. But Aunt Beth was the one who'd always been there for her. She'd given Gemma so much love, joy and encouragement that there was really no other choice but to accept Saxon's deal.
Still, she had to lay out some boundaries.
"I have pay you something," she began, testing the waters.
"Then I have to pay you for cooking. That's work, too."
He wasn't wrong. Her work was often hot, sweaty and stressful—not that cooking for him would be. He didn't sound all that demanding. "I have to at least pay for all of the materials and any other expenses."
Saxon beamed. "Sure, honey. If that gets me fed, then I have no choice but to agree to your terms."
"And you have to let me pay for most of your time."
"Nope. We're trading labor for labor. That's the offer. Take it or leave it."
She chewed on her top lip, trying to figure out a way around the wall he'd put up. When she couldn't, she decided to move on to other conditions. "You can't let this interfere with your real work. I don't want this job to get you in trouble."
His grin was pure indulgence. "I'm pretty sure my boss won't mind me picking up the extra work."
"And," she continued, "if at any time this deal becomes a problem for you, you have to promise to tell me. I won't be a burden to anyone."
"Is that it?"
She couldn't think of any more conditions to add, so she nodded.
He held out his hand. "Then it's a deal."
Both manners and years in business had her reaching automatically to accept his hand.
Warm, strong fingers wrapped around her sore flesh. He exerted only the gentlest pressure, but it was enough for her to feel every callous and ridge riding his palm. His fingers were so long, they inched up her wrist to stroke that delicate skin with shimmering heat.
Again, she had that crazy feeling that they were alone inside a bubble that insulated them from the rest of the world. Even the song of the birds and the hum of nearby cars couldn't penetrate the tiny world only the two of them shared.
He pulled his hand away, leaving her shaken and stunned.
What was it about this man that made the world fall away? And how was she going to find even footing when the ground seemed to evaporate beneath her feet when he was near?
He gave her a knowing smile, like he was used to rocking every girl he touched to her deepest foundation.
"I'll finish here, then go clean up. What time is supper?" he asked.
Gemma had to shake her head to get her thoughts to settle into place enough to make sense of his words. "Uh, I need an hour or so. Any requests?"
"Whatever you're making will be way better than what I had planned."
"Which was?"
"Canned soup. It's the only thing I don't burn. At least not every time."
"Wow. That is a low bar."
"See? I'm easy to please. I'll be over in an hour. If it's not ready, I can help."
Gemma wrinkled her nose. "Thanks, but it sounds like your time would be better spent visiting with Aunt Beth. Best if you don't touch the food. You might hurt it."
He nodded, humor dancing in his eyes. "Should I bring anything?"
"Just your appetite."
His gaze heated and all signs of humor faded from his expression. "Don't worry, honey. I'm definitely hungry."
Gemma hurried inside, closed the front door, lowered her forehead to the antique wood and leaned heavily against it, just breathing.
Her whole body was trembling, though she could no longer tell if it was from physical fatigue or from Saxon's effect on her.
The man packed one hell of a wallop.
"Gemma?" said Aunt Beth. "Are you okay?"
Gemma whirled around to find her aunt sitting in the living room, reading the paper. Her walker stood nearby, its bright yellow tennis balls a cheerful counterpoint to the need for the support it offered.
Aunt Beth's silver and white hair was twisted up in a sleek knot. The elegant updo seemed out of place next to the loose jogging pants and casual T-shirt she wore. As always, her cheeks were flushed a girlish pink and there was a sparkle in her dark eyes.
"I'm fine," Gemma said, though she wasn't yet sure if it was true.
"I heard voices outside."
"Saxon was measuring for a new window."
Aunt Beth beamed. "Such a sweet boy. He's always looking after me and keeping an eye out for repairs that need to be done around here."
It stung that Gemma hadn't been here to help her aunt. She was family. She was the one who was supposed to be keeping an eye on things.
She smoothed her dirty hair and donned an air of calm she didn't feel after her encounter with Saxon. "I hope you don't mind that I invited him for dinner."
Aunt Beth's smile widened. "Of course not." She leaned forward and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. "I've smelled some of the things he's burned wafting across the street. It's a wonder that man doesn't starve to death."
Gemma wasn't ready to share the news about the ruined bakery yet. She would as soon as Aunt Beth was strong enough to deal with another setback, but until then, it was best if she thought everything was going according to plan. And Aunt Beth's opening was the perfect one to explain why Saxon was going to be having meals with them.
"In that case," Gemma said, "I may have to invite him over more often."
Aunt Beth grinned, and her voice took on a lilting quality. "Oh, I see."
Gemma rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to see. He's helped you out a lot. It only seems fair to repay the favor."
"Come sit down with me and tell me more about how you plan to do that."
Gemma started toward the antique settee adorned in a cheerful rose print. She was halfway there before she remembered how filthy she was. "I'd better not. I'm a mess from…cleaning up the bakery today. I need a shower."
"While you're at it, put on that pretty yellow sundress that brings out your eyes."
"Why on earth would I—" Gemma realized mid-sentence why her aunt was so keen on what she wore. "If you've got it in your head to play matchmaker, just stop right now."
Aunt Beth's look of innocence was so overblown she could have been a cartoon character. "Whatever do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. I'm not getting involved with Saxon."
"Now that you bring it up, I think you two would make a lovely couple."
"I'm sure you do, but that doesn't change the fact that he lives here and my life is in St. Louis."
"But you're here now. Why not have a little fling? Dust the cobwebs off your…" she waved her hand toward Gemma's jeans, "…nether regions."
"Aunt Beth!" Gemma nearly screeched. "There are no cobwebs on any of my regions, nether or otherwise. And it's really none of your business how often I dust, so just…just quit."
Aunt Beth took on an air of complete innocence. "You could do worse than Saxon. That's all I'm saying."
"I didn't ask."
"I mean, he's so tall and strong and kind. He has a good job. And he loves children."
"Which would be great if I was in the market for a husband. But I'm not. Career first, family second. That's always been the plan."
"Plans change. Sometimes they even change for the better."
Gemma clearly wasn't going to be able to make her aunt shut up, so she decided to do the next best thing and walk away.
"I'm going to shower. I'll be down in a few minutes to start dinner."
She was halfway up the stairs when she heard her aunt's singsong voice—one of a much younger woman—say, "I bet you can't make it through your whole shower without thinking about him."
As usual, Aunt Beth was right.