Home to Stay (The Long Road Home #2) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,9

turned, her gaze landing first on his boots, and her chin lifted slowly as her dark eyes moved upward to his face. His body warmed under her perusal. It wouldn’t be the first time that a woman had looked at him in appreciation, but her reaction was surprising. She cocked her head to the side as her eyes narrowed, focusing on his face before giving her head a little shake. Suddenly, as though she just realized she was staring, she inhaled sharply, her chest heaving even though it was hard to discern much movement with the large overalls covering her body.

He started to ask if she was all right when she took two steps backward as she turned too close to the shelves full of paint cans. He watched in horror as her right foot slipped out from under her when she tried to correct her balance. Arms windmilling and flying out, the items she’d held so tightly flung in all directions across the floor. His hand snatched out, just managing to grab onto the strap of her coverall. Barely able to keep her ass from hitting the floor, he hauled her up to her feet, his hand still on the strap.

Stunned motionless for a second, her face soon flushed bright red as her mouth opened in a wide burst of laughter. She looked up, then covered her face with her hands and shook her head. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe I did that!”

He let go of her coveralls and stared down, fighting the desire to laugh along with her while her gaze now dropped to her items creating a mess all over the floor. Just as he opened his mouth to offer his help, she dropped and flipped over on all fours, scooping her items back into her arms. The overalls may have been too large, but with her on all fours and her ass pointed his way, his body reacted. Giving a mental shake, he chastised his wayward thoughts and bent next to her to help gather the variety of screws, small tools, paint chips, can of primer, and paintbrushes, placing them in a basket he’d snagged from the end of the aisle.

“Miss, are you all right?”

She looked over her shoulder, her face still flame red. “Yes, I just feel foolish. I really should pay better attention and watch where I’m going.”

“Here, let me help you.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. Her gaze moved over his face as though trying to place him before shaking her head again.

He wondered if he’d ever seen her before but came up empty. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived in the area, but I know I would have remembered her. Standing, he offered his hand, wrapping his fingers around her much smaller ones.

A jolt ran up his arm. She gasped, looking at their connection, and he was certain she’d felt the same electrifying shock.

Lifting her gaze, her eyes stayed pinned on his face, but he wasn’t uncomfortable. She still appeared to be searching for recognition, not resting on his scar.

“I’m really sorry to have created such a disaster.” She offered a rueful grin before turning and making her way to the front. As she walked away, she looked down into her basket, mumbling again as she reviewed her items. “Paint chips, paintbrush, faucet handle…”

Sally laughed while ringing up the woman’s purchases, and while he was intrigued, he held back, not wanting to add to her embarrassment. After she left, he approached the register. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Sally if she knew who the woman was, but he had the feeling that Sally was a bit of a gossip, and the last thing he wanted was to bring any attention to himself.

By the time he got home and put away what he’d bought, he was still distracted with thoughts of the woman. She was a beauty. A bit muddled, but a beauty.

As he headed into the living room, his grandfather was easing into his recliner while attempting to disguise a groan. Settling into the sofa, he opened a beer and handed it over before opening one for himself.

“You’re not gonna work tonight?”

“No. I thought I’d just hang with you.”

Gramps took a sip of beer, then nodded. “Sounds good.” After a few minutes of silence, he added, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing, John. I do. It’s frustrating as hell but there are things I just can’t seem to do anymore. It’s hard