Maurie opened the refrigerator, trying to figure out why she’d offered Grant a drink. It would mean he’d stay longer and put his bid together in her kitchen instead of calling tomorrow or the next day with the numbers. Maurie already felt like a nervous mess around him. She’d had a major teenage crush on Grant Shelton.
He’d been a tall, gangly teenager with eyes like blue pools of water. And now he had matured into a gorgeous man. Same blue eyes, but he was taller than she remembered, and his muscular frame was a testament to his labor-intensive profession. His light-brown hair was trimmed, his face shaved, although a five o’clock shadow was making an appearance. And his nails were clean even though he worked construction. Not to mention, she’d caught his clean and spicy scent more than once as they explored the house.
She’d wondered if she was dreaming when she’d first opened the door to see Grant Shelton standing there. How many times had she thought of him after she left Pine Valley? How many men had she compared to him? More than she wanted to admit.
During her middle school and early high school years, she’d only shared a handful of words at their brief interchanges in the neighborhood. Grant had done things around their yard when he thought no one was home. He was that kind of kid, and it seemed he hadn’t changed much as a man. She’d even felt the concern and generosity rolling off him as they’d walked through her house.
When Grant had done yard work at her house so many years ago, Maurie had always been home. She’d never let on that she’d seen Grant at work, because she stayed inside the house. She’d been a homeschooling recluse, and when her mom was gone Maurie had pretended no one was home. Only in the afternoons, when her mom was sleeping, had Maurie dared to sit on the porch and watch the other kids walk home from school.
So often, she’d imagined she was one of those kids walking home. She’d been in school until she was about eleven. But then her father had left, and everything had changed. Her mother had started drinking and inviting other men over. She’d slept most of the day and watched television all night. Then after an argument with the principal, she’d pulled Maurie out of school when Maurie was too young to fully understand what was going on.
Maurie remembered early mornings during the winter when Grant had shoveled snow from their walkway. He’d mowed their lawn when her mother was gone and there was been no car in the driveway. He’d probably thought Maurie was gone too. But once her mother began shoplifting and hanging out in the next town’s bar, Maurie had stopped going anywhere with her.
Grant had come around the corner from his own neighborhood once when Maurie had gone out to the mailbox. He slowed down and said, “Hi, Maurie. How are you?”
Kind of formal for a teenager, but that’s what made Grant Shelton different.
“Okay,” she’d said. “Thanks for helping with our yard.”
He’d flushed red, and Maurie stared at him, wondering what she’d said that embarrassed him.
“I—I didn’t know you were home,” Grant had said.
Maurie had shrugged. “I never go anywhere.”
Grant had just stared at her, and she thought she saw pity in his eyes, which made her feel embarrassed. So she’d fled, running up the driveway and into the house. Like the kid she’d been.
But now she was a college graduate and ran a successful business. Of course, she could credit her foster mom and dad for showing her what normal was. Oh, and a few dozen therapy sessions in high school.
In the here and now, Maurie stared at the items in her refrigerator. Oh yeah, she was going to make a drink for Grant.
“What made you decide to return to Pine Valley?” Grant asked.
His deep tone sent a wave of warmth through her. She’d always loved his voice, the few times she’d heard it. Voices seemed to have more power over her than a man’s looks. But Grant had plenty of looks as well. No doubt about that.
She turned to face him, holding a carton of cream and a pint of milk. “My mom left me the house, and well...” She shrugged. “After renting it out for a few years, I decided to move here and open the shop. I needed a change of scenery.”
He was watching her closely. Quite intensely, in fact. It felt as if he was trying to read her thoughts.
She set the things on the counter and tucked some hair behind her ear. “Have you ever needed a do-over?”
He nodded. “Several times.”
When he didn’t offer more, she crossed to the kitchen table and cleared a space for him. She motioned to one of the chairs. “Have a seat. Do you need a calculator?”
He sat. “I have one on my phone.”
“Oh, right.” She moved back to the counter, then leaned against it and folded her arms. “What about you, Grant Shelton? What have you been up to in Pine Valley all these years?” She tried to sound lighthearted, but in truth, her heart was pounding. Here it came ... the story about his beautiful wife and two kids. Or his live-in girlfriend who was a supermodel.
He looked up from the list. “Uh, that’s a depressing tale.”
Depressing? Not what she expected at all. Grant Shelton didn’t seem like he had a depressing life. Everything about him seemed on the ball. From his looks to his clothing to his professionalism.
“Hmm,” she said. “I think a depressing tale deserves something sweet.” She took the dark-chocolate mix out of the cupboard and poured milk into a pan. She felt his gaze on her, and Maurie tried to keep the smile off her face. She’d intrigued him. Good.
“You’re making me hot chocolate?” he asked.
She glanced over at his expression and laughed. “Cocoa,” she clarified. “And you’ve never tasted anything like it, believe me. Besides, I want to hear your depressing tale.”
He visibly swallowed, and a thought hit her. Maybe he was as nervous as she felt.
“All right,” he said, looking down at the paper in front of him, then back up at her. One of his brows cocked, and she didn’t know what to make of that expression. “If you’re sure you want to hear it.”
She held his gaze. The old Maurie would have shied away from such a personal conversation. But she was no longer that girl. “I’d love to.”
His gaze moved over her face, then he propped his elbows on the table and released a sigh. “It’s not for the faint of heart.”
The way he said it made her want to smile. But she refrained for now. She turned on the burner until the gas flame leapt to life. After mixing in the cream and several scoops of dark-chocolate powder, she lowered the temperature to a simmer and turned to face him. “I’m listening.”
Grant scrubbed a hand through his hair, leaving it mussed. “So, right now I’m in a custody battle for my four-year-old son. His mother wants to keep him in another city and raise him with another man.”
Maurie stared at him for a second before she realized staring was probably rude. “Oh. Wow. Sorry.” She moved to the table, shoved a few things aside, and sat across from Grant. He was divorced, and he was a father. “What’s your son’s name?”
He looked surprised at her question. “Trent.”
“Trent Shelton,” she said. “Great name. He’ll be a strong and good man, like his father.”
Grant held her gaze for a moment. “That’s a pretty big prediction. You haven’t even met the kid.”
Maurie didn’t have to meet the kid. She didn’t even have to meet Grant’s ex-wife. “A kid takes after the good parent,” she said in a quiet voice. “Believe me, I know. My father might have left us, but I think I must be like him. I am nothing like my mother.”
The atmosphere in the kitchen had shifted into something else—like an understanding between close friends.
“You are nothing like your mother,” Grant said, his tone also subdued. “Are you ... are you doing okay after all that happened?”
Not many people knew about her life in Pine Valley, or at least what it had really been like. Maurie couldn’t guess what exactly Grant knew, but he probably had a decent understanding. “I’m doing okay. I’ve been able to move past a lot of things. And I know that fixing up this house is going to make a difference too.”
Grant nodded. “Well, you’ve impressed me.”
“I have?” Maurie felt the heat rising in her neck. “I don’t know what you’re basing that on.”
Grant smiled. It was sort of a sad smile though. “Just an instinct. And I appreciate your compliment about my son. It’s been hard to see past the court battles to a time when I can just be a regular dad to him without all the tension between me and my ex. I had Trent for three days over Christmas, and now I won’t see him until spring break.”
Maurie could very well guess that his son was a sweet, adorable boy. And she saw in Grant’s gaze how much he loved his kid. “When’s spring break?”
“Middle of March.”
The sound of the hot cocoa coming to a boil alerted Maurie. She stood and crossed to the stove, then stirred the cocoa. “Three months is a long time for a little kid. Can you call him at night?”
“Joy usually tells me he’s asleep,” Grant said. “Going through her can be impossible.”
Maurie wanted to curse out his ex-wife. Who does that? Maurie turned down the flame beneath the pan. “Does Trent have an iPad or a phone?”
“He has an iPad,” Grant said, his tone curious.
Maurie looked over at him with a smile. “Perfect. Then you can FaceTime.”
Grant’s brows rose. “Is that like Facebook?”
“No...” She laughed. “I take it you’re not on social media.”
Grant shook his head. “Uh, no. I hate social media.”
She smirked. “Me too. But it’s a great way to reach my customers. So I bow to the almighty dollar, I guess.” She removed the pan from the burner, then crossed to the table. “Here, let me see your phone.”
He handed it over, and she turned on FaceTime in his settings, then handed it back.
She pulled out her own phone from her back pocket, then asked, “What’s your number?” She typed in the number he recited, then she FaceTimed him.
Grant stared at his ringing phone. “What do I do?” she asked.
She crossed to him and leaned over his shoulder, then pointed at the Answer button. “Swipe, then hold the phone in front of your face.”
He did, and his eyes widened.
“Hi, Grant,” she said into her phone, smiling at his image on the screen.
“Hi.” He stood and walked about the small kitchen, angling his phone this way and that, experimenting with her image.
“Is the bid ready yet?” Maurie asked as Grant brought his phone really close to his face until only one blue eye filled her screen.
He laughed at his copied image in the corner of his phone, the sound sending warm prickles along her skin. “I haven’t started yet,” he said. “You’ve been too distracting.”
They held each other’s gazes in their phones for a few seconds.
“Sorry?” Maurie said at last, lowering her phone.
“It’s okay,” Grant said, his gaze sliding to her actual face. “It’s a nice distraction.”
Maurie was proud of herself for not blushing, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her stomach. “I’ll leave you to your estimate and finish getting this cocoa ready.”
He returned to the table and sat down, but Maurie didn’t miss the half smile on his face as he opened the calculator on his phone.
Well then. She went back to stirring the cooling chocolate mixture that was still steaming. She pulled down two mugs from the cupboard. The mugs were different patterns and shapes, since she never bought two exactly alike.
Maurie worked in silence, only hearing the scratch of Grant’s pencil against the notepaper. She poured the cocoa into the mugs, careful not to fill them too much, to leave plenty of room for the sweeter stuff.
She heard Grant exhale, and she looked over her shoulder. “Everything okay?”
He glanced up, then looked down again at the notepaper. “It’s going to take at least two weeks, maybe longer.”
“That’s not a problem,” she said. “When can you get started?”
“Does tomorrow work?”
“Perfect.” She poured the steaming cocoa and then used a peppermint stick in each to stir. Leaving the peppermint sticks in the mugs, she topped each with a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon.
She picked up one of the mugs and turned to present it to Grant, only to find that he’d crossed the room and was standing near her.
“Can I help you?” he said, then his gaze landed on the mug. “Wow, this is too fancy to drink.”
Maurie looked into his blue eyes. “I can make you another if you’d just like to look at that one,” she teased.
“No.” His gaze held hers before he grinned. “I’m drinking this.”
So, standing right there in front of her, he took a sip and swallowed. “It’s like perfection.” He leaned against the counter, his shoulder only inches from hers.
Was it just her, or had this kitchen shrunk in size? She could smell his clean, spicy scent, and mixed with the aroma of chocolate and peppermint, it was like walking into a holiday festival.
“How did you do this?” Grant continued.
Maurie shrugged as if to act as if it was no big deal. But truthfully, she was flattered at Grant’s interest. “Years of practice. My foster mother was a gourmet cook. You should have seen her meals—even the simple ones. I was pretty desperate for a normal mom, so I stayed with her in the kitchen after school and on the weekends, instead of being social.”
Grant took another sip of his drink. “Your foster mom sounds pretty great.”
Maurie’s throat tightened. “She was. She passed away a few years ago.”
Grant set his mug on the counter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
How could he know?
“And your mom too,” he said. “I heard about her passing.”
Maurie drank from her own cocoa before answering. The hot sweetness was instantly soothing. “Yeah. I still haven’t been to her gravesite. Maybe someday.”
Grant didn’t say anything for a minute, and Maurie wondered if she’d gotten too personal, too fast. But he had known her mom, so maybe it was okay.
“Maurie,” he said, his voice low. “I’m sorry about all of your losses.” He rested a hand on her shoulder.
She wanted to lean into him, because the comfort of his hand on her shoulder made her eyes burn with tears. Not even her foster parents had known her mother. So to have this connection with another person who did know her, and was certainly aware of all her faults, was new to Maurie.
She placed her hand over his. “Thanks.” Their gazes locked, and Maurie could swear he was leaning closer, but then his phone rang from its place on the table.
Grant moved to pick up his phone. He sent the caller into voicemail, then he turned to face her. “Thanks for showing me the FaceTime thing. Trent’s going to love it.”
Maurie nodded, still feeling a lump in her throat. “I hope so.”
He picked up the bid sheet and handed it to her. “See what you think of the estimate.”
She took the sheet and scanned the numbers. All of the prices looked fair. “Looks good.”
Grant moved past her and walked to the sink, where he rinsed out his mug.
“You don’t have to wash...” she started, but he was finished before she could protest.
“No problem.” He set the mug on the counter. “Thanks again, and I’ll be here around eight a.m. tomorrow if that’s not too early.”
“Sounds great.”
Grant nodded and took the bid sheet. He seemed to be hesitating. Waiting for something.
“Look, Maurie,” he said, his blue gaze holding hers. “If you need help with anything ... else, besides your house, let me know.”
Maurie could only nod. She couldn’t fathom what had possessed Grant’s ex-wife to give him up. He was about the most decent guy she knew.
“See you early tomorrow,” he continued. Then he left the kitchen and walked out the front door before Maurie could find her voice.