and into the next morning. He hadn’t looked forward to strapping on his tool belt this much in a long time. Though he liked his work, it was the prospect of seeing Ava that made the difference.
His commitment to this renovation project was about more than work. He wanted to do a good job with it—hands down, customer satisfaction was job one. But beyond that, he wanted to do his best to give Ava her dream. Listening to her talk about baking with her mom—the mom who had run off to Hollywood with the youngest daughter decades ago and had never been heard from since—was like a sign from above pointing the way to win her heart.
He wondered if Ava had any idea how purely her inner beauty shone when she talked about being happy like that? In wanting again, for others and for herself, a joy-filled place where wishes could come true?
She was a different kind of woman than he was used to. Whitney had been exactly what his mom had wanted for him. She was from a respectable family, from money older than the state of Montana. The right schools and the proper social obligations and charity work. But in the end, she’d been wrong for him. Wrong for the man he really was, not Roger Donovan’s son, but a Montanan born and raised, who liked his life a little more comfortable and far less showy.
The shop had a decimated look to it, even gilded by the golden peach of the newly rising sun. The interior walls were bare down to the studs, which glowed like honey in the morning light. The white dip and rise of electrical wire ran like a clothesline the length of the room. Dust coated the windows, but he could see the promise. See her dream.
Rex romped to the front door, springing in place with excitement. His tongue rolled out of his mouth as he panted, and since Brice was taking too long, pawed at the door handle.
“Hold on there, bud. I’m eager to see Ava, too.”
The retriever gave a low bark when he heard Ava’s name.
Yeah, at least the dog liking her wouldn’t be an issue the way it was with Whitney. Yet another sign, Brice figured as he picked through his mammoth ring of work keys, found the one for the shop and unlocked the door. Whitney hadn’t been fond of big, bouncing, sometimes slobbery dogs. Brice was.
The second the door was open an inch, Rex hit it at a dead run and launched through the open kitchen doors. There on the worktable was a bright pink bakery box. That explained the retriever’s eagerness. They may have missed Ava, but she’d left a consolation prize.
She’d come before his shift started, left her baking and skedaddled. Apparently, there was a good reason. Like maybe the comment he’d made about finally getting to talk with her over coffee. Maybe—just maybe—he shouldn’t have pointed that out.
Right when he’d thought he was making progress with her, getting to know her, letting her know the kind of man he was, he’d hit a brick wall.
Apparently Ava wasn’t as taken with him as he was with her.
Wow. That felt like a hard blow to his sternum. Here was the question: Did he pursue this or not? Sure, they’d gotten off on the wrong foot when she’d mistaken him for Chloe’s groom, but even after that, she’d been determined to put some distance between them.
Face it, this was one-sided. He’d stood right here in this kitchen and got to know her, seen right through to her dreams. He was captivated by her. He was falling in serious like with her.
But now? She was missing in action.
Rex’s bark echoed in the vacant kitchen.
“Okay, okay.” Brice popped open the huge bakery box. “Only one, and I mean it this time. All this baked stuff can’t be good for you—”
He fell silent at the treats inside the box. She’d promised muffins, but these weren’t like anything he’d ever seen. They were huge muffins shaped like cute, round monsters. They had ropy icing for hair, big goofy eyes, a potato nose and a wide grin. Two dozen monster faces stared up at him, colorful and whimsical.
Ava made the ordinary unusual and fun. He liked that about her. Very much.
He’d been praying, to find a good woman to love and marry. Have a few kids. Live a happy life. That had been part of his plan for a long time, but it just hadn’t worked out for one reason or another. In fact, it hadn’t worked out for such a length of time that began to feel as if his prayer was destined to remain unanswered.
The front door swung open and heavy boots pounded against the floor, echoing in the demolished room. It was Tim, the electrician. “Hey, where are those muffins she promised?”
“In here.”
“I gotta tell ya,” Tim said as he dropped his tool bags on the floor, “this might be the best job we’ve done yet. The doughnuts yesterday were something. You think she’s gonna keep bakin’ for us?” Tim’s jaw dropped in disbelief when he saw the muffins. “Look at that. Think anyone would mind if I took one home for my little girl? She’d get a kick out of that.”
Brice realized that Ava had made five times the number of muffins they needed for their small work crew. “Go for it.”
“Cool.” Tim grabbed a mammoth monster muffin and took a bite. “Mmm,” he said around a full mouth, as if surprised by how good it tasted.
Not that Brice was surprised by that. He flipped open his phone and dialed. While he waited for the call to connect, he took a muffin for Rex on the way out the back door. The sunshine felt hot and dry as he sat on the back step and unwrapped the muffin. The dog gobbled his muffin in three bites.
Ava picked up on the sixth ring. “Hi there. Is there a problem at the shop?”
Caller ID, he guessed. “A problem? You could say that.”
“What’s wrong? I was there and everything looked fine. Okay, it was like a total wreck, but it’s supposed to look like that, right?”
“Right. That wasn’t the kind of problem I meant.” He leaned back, resting his spine against the building. He wondered where she was. A lot of clanging sounded in the background. “You left a box of monsters behind. Why didn’t you stay and say hello?”
“I didn’t want to be in the way.”
“I hope you didn’t feel uncomfortable with me yesterday. You know I like you.”
“I’m trying to ignore that.”
“Is there any particular reason for that?”
“Well, you’re doing the renovation on my shop, for starters.”
“Good reason. Look, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Not around me. Not around my men. Not when it comes to the work we’re doing for you.”
“Sure, I know that.”
It didn’t seem as if she did. She sounded as vulnerable as she’d looked yesterday when she’d been talking about her baking. Okay, so maybe what he felt wasn’t a two-way street. “How about you and I agree to be friends. Would that make you more comfortable?”
“Friends? Uh, sure. Wait.” He could imagine her biting her bottom lip while she thought, the cute little furrow digging in between her eyes. “You mean like platonic friends.”
“I mean that whatever this is going on between us, let’s put in on hold until your renovation is done. That way you don’t have to come to your own shop before 6:45 a.m. just to avoid me.”
“I wasn’t necessarily avoiding you.” Ava knew her voice sounded thin and honest. She was no good at subterfuge of any kind. Another reason she’d never understood men who had hidden agendas. “You see, it’s not you. It’s me. All me.”
“You want to explain that?” he asked in that kind way he had, but he obviously didn’t understand.
There it was, doom, hovering right in front of her, and its name was Brice Donovan.
“It’s just that—” she blurted out, nearly