The Small Town Boy's Redemption

Excerpt:

Libby finished typing the bulletin and hit save. Checking it against the sheet that sat beside her computer, she made sure all the numbers were correct and looked it over again for any spelling errors.

If there was a spelling error, someone was going to point it out. She never sought attention, and that was definitely the kind she didn’t want. She’d made a number of embarrassing mistakes over the years, and every week, she tried hard not to repeat them.

It was just a little after two, and technically she was done at two, but she never quit until the bulletin was finished, printed, and folded and ready for tomorrow.

There had been some last-minute changes which was why she was running late. Actually, this wasn’t really last minute. There had been more than a few times when she’d been called back in to completely redo it. Hopefully, today would not be one of those days, although she didn’t have a lot of big plans. Taking Casey for a walk, cooking supper, looking online to see if there were any job openings since yesterday.

She didn’t know if Pamela would need her at the flower shop next week or not. A little shot of fear tightened her throat and caused her heart to skip a beat. She couldn’t afford to be out of work. With the church secretary job combined with the flower shop, she could pay all her bills, but she wasn’t ahead, and if she lost either of them, she wouldn’t be able to make next month’s rent.

The idea of having to move back in with her parents caused her hand to want to grab for her phone and start looking for jobs this second. Begging if necessary. She resisted the urge and pulled the bulletins that were ready out of the printer, starting to fold them.

A rap on the door startled her, but she hadn’t gotten her mouth open to say come in before the door opened.

Blade Truax stood in the doorway. He filled it, seeming to darken the room.

Her hand wanted to go to her throat, but both of them were full of bulletins, and she just stood, staring.

If someone had asked her who the most unlikely person to ever darken her doorway would be, Blade’s name might have come to her lips.

He didn’t look happy. His brown eyes, which she remembered as light brown, maybe the color of a pine floor on a sunny day, seemed dark and intense. He stood with his hands hanging at his sides and his mouth closed flat. A couple days’ worth of stubble on his chin, and if his hair were long enough to be combed, she’d guess it would be a little messy. New jeans, work boots, T-shirt…he made them all look good.

She tried not to be distracted, because there had to be something really wrong for him to be standing in her doorway.

She remembered what he’d said yesterday, and she kinda had the feeling she might be in for more. There was no other way out of her office, but she had the strongest urge to turn around and look anyway, planning her escape route.

But she braced herself, glad she was facing him head-on. She only looked a little twisted when she did that. Because of her leg.

From the waist up, she looked good, normal, some people even said Hollywood star material. Her sister seemed to be able to sell her good looks. But her sister didn’t have a limp and a twisted leg.

Libby knew she’d feel more secure if she was behind the desk, but she wasn’t, so she threw her shoulders back and lifted her brow. He was the one who came to her; he was the one who could speak first.

His throat worked several times. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was nervous.

It was good that he let the silence stretch, because she probably couldn’t have spoken right away anyway. Her mouth was dry, and her nerve endings hummed. He was a man she would never get tired of looking at.

Finally, he said, “Hi.”

That was it. Like it was normal for him to be standing in her door. And normal for him to be talking to her. So he said something completely normal, of course.

She wasn’t sure she could do normal. Not with Blade. But she’d try.

“Hi.”

Yeah, that came out awkwardly. Maybe it didn’t. She felt like it did. She felt itchy and restless and awkward. What did she do with her hands, what about the bulletins? What did she do with her eyes—they wanted to roam over his shoulders, across his waist, and down the long legs.

What did she do with her body, the figure she didn’t have? The one that kept her from being “normal.” She didn’t know what to do with any of it, so she just stood there.

If he could, so could she.

A muscle in his jaw ticked in and out while the seconds ticked by.

The bulletins rattled, and she realized her hands were trembling. She gripped them more tightly and willed her hands to stop.

“I, um, I’m sorry…I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”

Her eyes widened, and her heart jerked.

That was unexpected. Probably he could read that on her face, with her open mouth and her brows that felt like they were sitting in her hairline.

This is where she was supposed to say, hey, don’t worry about it, I forgive you, it was nothing.

Except she didn’t. Because he surprised her.

She doubted he was expecting that.

The seconds ticked by, more seconds, adding up to a minute, maybe two.

He didn’t move. Maybe she should invite him in. Definitely she should say something. It was her turn to talk. They were taking turns, right?

Her eyes dropped, and they caught on his hand hanging at his side. Brown and hard, and it looked capable, like a hand that could help her if she needed it. A hand that knew how to work. That could fix things, make things, do things with confidence and dexterity.

But she really wasn’t thinking about all of those things, because she suddenly wondered how it would feel with the fingers on that hand sliding against the fingers on hers.

The thought made her catch her breath. She didn’t even know him. Maybe, once upon a time, they talked, not much. Enough for her to know there was more to him than what she knew and to make her want to know more.

She had to say something; the silence had gone beyond awkward.

“You don’t need to apologize. I feel like I deserved it. Not because of anything I did necessarily, but because of my last name.”

His eyes flickered at that. She got the feeling she’d surprised him too. She liked that feeling, because she didn’t want to be the only one who had been surprised and off-kilter.

Fingers on that hand flexed and balled, but his feet stayed planted, and his lips stayed silent.

Were they going to stand there and stare at each other again? Thankfully, she wasn’t feeling the pressure, since it wasn’t her turn to talk.

She couldn’t think of anything to say anyway. Well, she could think of lots of things she wanted to say, but nothing that fit in the conversation, such as it was, that they were having right now.

It had to be her imagination when he took a deep breath and seemed to let it out shakily.

“That’s why I gave you the apology. Because it wasn’t your fault.”

Something she’d been wanting to say for years slipped past her lips. “I was never convinced that you were guilty. In fact, I felt all along that you are innocent. But no one else believed it.”

That time, his eyes did more than flicker. They widened and became expressive, and a whole slew of emotions crossed his face. But, like he’d gotten a hold of himself, they shut down again, and his face became blank once more.

Maybe he got tired of proclaiming his innocence. Maybe he got tired of no one believing him. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it. But he didn’t answer that comment.

“Then maybe you’d be interested in taking a job after all?”

Her brows pushed together, and her brain swirled.

The job? He was here about the job?

“The one at the Richmond Rebels’ shop?” she asked, feeling a little stupid, because that was the job he had to be referring to. But he’d been so sure, so emphatic, that she would not be working there.

“Yes.”

This was the answer to all her prayers. She’d been praying for a job, begging God to give her something, anything so she didn’t have to go back to her parents. Something so she could be normal. She’d never been driven, never wanted a big career or lots of money.

But she had wanted to be independent. It had been her one goal.

Well, maybe she thought about opening her own flower shop. But it seemed kind of redundant with the shop already in town. And she’d been content working there. The idea of owning her own shop, being her own boss was slightly appealing. The idea of being able to treat customers the way she wanted to was even more so.

But not enough for her to leave the comfortable security of the life that she was living, to take the risk of opening her own shop.

Blade still waited on her answer. Part of her wanted to jump up and down and say yes, heck yes, she was interested.

Another part of her, a smaller part for sure, but probably the smarter part, recognized the situation for the oddity that it was.

What was Blade doing here? And asking about her? They couldn’t want her to work there so bad that they’d send someone to talk to her, to ask her to work there, and especially Blade, of all the Truax brothers.

Unless they were making him apologize. She didn’t really understand why they’d be doing that. They were his brothers, not his parents. Not that his parents, his dad, even had that much control over him, as far as she knew.

He hadn’t moved, and she wondered how long he’d stand there if she didn’t say anything. Would he still be there tomorrow morning when the parishioners came for church? The thought almost made her smile.

Regardless, the situation was odd; there had to be more to it, because Blade wouldn’t be here himself, asking her to work in the shop.

But the adage “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” seemed applicable in this situation. So she forced her eyes to meet his, and she said, “Yes. I’m interested.”

Something flared in his eyes. Whether it was triumph or something else, she couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered. She needed a job; they were offering her one.

“It’s just a temporary position. Two months.”

That was odd.

“Why?”

Ms. Reva was moving, and they needed someone at the counter. Why wouldn’t it be a permanent position?

Her question seemed to stump Blade as well because his eyes moved from hers and hooked on something behind her head. He blinked once or twice, and he shifted for the first time, like her question had made him uncomfortable.

“Because it is.”

Okay, yeah, there was definitely something fishy about this whole situation. “Are you getting a new computer system or something, and you won’t need someone behind the counter?” She could hardly think that was true. Computers were pretty nice to have, but as far as she knew, at the present time, they’d still need a person to run them.

“No.”

He’d stood for a really long time, waiting for her to figure out what she was going to say. She had patience. She could wait, too.

“Then why?”

She thought maybe he was going to say, “I already told you” or “because it is.” But he didn’t.

Instead, he was brutally honest with her. She thought maybe she would rather have not known.

“Because,” he said slowly, his eyes on hers. “Because maybe some of us think that having you there might not work out.”

She would never have described herself as bold. And she was pretty sure that there was no one who knew her who would describe her as bold, either. But she tilted her head and said, “Some of us? What you’re trying to say is you don’t want me there.”