Only You (2 page)

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.”

“I’d be happy to fix it for you, Jos—
um
. . . I mean, Dr. Allen.”

He said the word “doctor” like it felt foreign on his tongue. It was probably difficult for him to reconcile the young girl he remembered to Dr. Josephine Allen, Director of Library Science to The Angel Ridge Library. She wondered if he’d ever set foot in the library? Probably not.

“That’s kind of you, Cole, but I’m sure you had other things planned for today. I’d hate to put you behind.”

Josie hadn’t been back in Angel Ridge long, but she knew that Cole Craig was in demand. Anyone in town who had something that needed fixing called Cole. She smiled. Her memories of him were of a big, beefy boy who’d always been kind to her despite the teasing she’d received in school for her bookwormish ways.

“Oh, it’s no trouble, ma’am. That place of yours must be a handful since you don’t have your folks around tendin’ to things. It was a terrible loss for the town when they moved away. They were fine people.”

He made it sound as if her parents had
passed
away, when what they’d really done was left her holding the bag in the form of a drafty old house that needed constant attention. “Yes, I don’t really have the time or the knowledge needed to keep up such an old house.”

She’d thought of taking a condo in Maryville, but her parents had nearly had heart attacks when she’d suggested it. So, she’d resigned herself to living here. It was her home, after all, and she did enjoy the short walk to work. How many towns remained in America where one could walk to work?

“You’re lucky to have it. They don’t make ’em like that any more.”

Josie wouldn’t know. How she longed for a nice, cozy place that was warm in the winter with no yard work in the summer. Something that wasn’t in the middle of a town where she’d always been under a microscope and had never fit in.

“I’m more than happy to oblige,” he was saying.

She couldn’t help smiling at the quaint turn of phrase in Cole’s slow, southern drawl, even though she wasn’t quite sure what he meant by the statement. “I’m sorry. You’re happy to oblige?”

“Sure. I can crawl up under the house and have a look at that pipe, then I could run down to the hardware and get what I need to fix it. I expect I’ll need to get a look inside to see if there’s any trouble in there, though.”

“Of course—”

“I’ll just mosey on into town to get some supplies, then. If you could swing by here at lunch to let me into the house?”

Josie looked at her watch. “I could leave now—”

“Oh, no ma’am. There’s no need for that. It’ll take me a bit to get what I need and come back here to start work on it. Noon’ll be fine.”

“Noon it is then.
Um
, Mr. Craig?”

“Cole, please. Mr. Craig sounds like somebody’s daddy.”

His warm, soft chuckle heated every ounce of her blood. The images running amuck in her mind weren’t the least bit fatherly.

“I’ll call Mr. DeFoe at the hardware and ask him to bill me for the supplies.”

“No need. We’ll settle up later.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yep. See you in a bit.”

The line went dead. Josie replaced the phone and sat back in her leather chair. A burst water pipe. Her house was probably a mess. She should go assess the damage, but Cole seemed to have everything under control. She rolled the mouse to disable the screen saver on her computer, and the stupid thing locked up again.

If only Cole Craig could work his magic on her hard drive . . . .

*

“Afternoon, Miss Estelee,” Josie called up to the elderly woman rocking away the afternoon on her front porch.

Miss Estelee had been the Allen’s neighbor for as long as Josie could remember. And for as long as she could remember, Miss Estelee had taken tea and cookies on her front porch at noon, weather permitting.

Josie shaded her eyes against the noonday sun. “How are you today?”

“Oh, can’t complain. No need, even if I was want to.” She laughed. “Can I offer you a cookie?”

Josie smiled. Miss Estelee’s homemade sugar cookies were the best, but she said, “No, thank you. I’m meeting someone.”

“That nice young man who cuts my grass says there’s trouble at your place.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, if it can be fixed, Cole’ll fix it. But be careful.”

Josie squinted into the bright noonday sun at her neighbor. “Careful?”

“Mmm.” Miss Estelee took a bite of her cookie, rocked back in her chair, and gazed up at the clear blue sky. “Them angels is a workin’ mischief today.” She shook her head and cackled, then slapped her knee. “Might have a mind to take you in hand, missy.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, Miss Estelee,” she said indulgently. “Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon.”

Shaking her head, Josie walked around to the side of her house. Poor Miss Estelee. No one really knew how old she was, but she’d been ancient for, well, forever. The sweet old lady seemed to always be telling anyone who cared to listen of the exploits of the angels living on Angel Ridge.

Curious, Josie had done a little research in the town archives at the library about these “angels.” Legend had it that an angel appeared to the first Craig settler back in the late 1700s and told him to name the town Angel Ridge. The early settlers built forts to protect themselves from the Indians in the area, and the story went that when the Cherokees threatened an attack, some of the locals took refuge in the Craig Fort.

After Cole’s ancestor agreed to name the town Angel Ridge, the tale went that the Cherokees would pass up the Craig Fort and attack the McKay Fort instead. Funny. There’d always been bad blood between the McKays and the Craigs.

Accounts of the attacks on the McKay Fort were well documented. But the legend about the angels appearing to the Craigs? Well, that’s all it was . . . a legend.

Dear, sweet Miss Estelee. But who could argue with her? She
was
the town’s oldest resident.

“Afternoon, Josie Lee.”

Boy, that brought back memories. No one had called her that since . . . Josie turned the corner at the back of her house, and there he stood. Cole Craig.

“I’m sorry. It’s Dr. Allen now, right?”

All she could do was nod. Gone was the beefy teenager she remembered from middle school. In his place stood a tall, muscular man with blond hair that grew past his shoulders, chiseled features, and eyes that rivaled the blue of the sky. The mud splattered on his faded jeans and tan T-shirt complimented his rugged good looks.

“Sorry to call you home in the middle of the day like this.”

Josie cleared her throat and found her tongue. “I’m the one to be thanking you. I’m fortunate that you were nearby and observant enough to see that there was a problem.”

A lazy smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and a mischievous light danced in his clear, blue eyes. “Miss Estelee would say it’s them angels workin’ their magic.”

The man was strikingly beautiful. For a moment, Josie forgot to breathe.

Cole moved forward and touched her arm with a gentle hand. “You all right, Dr. Allen?”

She blinked. She hadn’t been this tongue-tied in—well, she couldn’t ever recall being speechless in the presence of a man. This was just Cole Craig of the blue collar Craigs who lived at the back of the ridge. If anyone were to be tongue-tied, she should think it would be him. After all, she had three degrees and he hadn’t even finished high school. But that aside, his touch sent shivers up her arm, leaving behind a delicious warmth.

“Dr. Allen?”

Josie took a step back. She must get hold of herself. Her behavior was perfectly ridiculous. “I’m sorry, Cole. It’s been a long morning. So far, anything that could go wrong has.”

He frowned. “Sorry to hear that.”

From his expression and tone, she could see that he truly was sorry that she was having a bad day. She shrugged and said, “Happens to everyone from time to time. Were you able to repair the pipe?”

He wiped his hands with a red rag and nodded. “Pretty much did everything I could out here, but I’d like to have a look inside.”

“Certainly,” she replied, and then led him to the back door. She pulled her keys from her purse and inserted the correct one into the lock. After several tries with the old skeleton key, the tumblers finally turned. When she pushed the door open, a gush of water rushed out onto the back porch, splashing across her new leather flats. “Oh no!”

Cole grasped her arm and pulled her out of the way of the stream of water running past them, then looked around her into the house. He assessed the situation, removed his work boots and socks, and preceded her into the kitchen. Though dread pulled at her, Josie slipped off her soaked shoes and followed him.

“Well, it’s not too bad. Could’ve been much worse,” he said. “Looks like most of the leak was confined to the kitchen area. This won’t take long to clean up.” He turned to her and said, “You just go on back to work and leave everything to me.”

There was something very intimate about seeing a gorgeous man in well-worn, threadbare jeans and a form fitting t-shirt standing in the middle of her kitchen barefoot. Again, Josie had difficulty forming a coherent sentence for reply.

This must stop
.

She cleared her throat and focused on the fruit bowl sitting on her kitchen island. “Cole, you’ve already done more than any reasonable person would expect.”

“Just bein’ neighborly.”

That aside, she didn’t want to further inconvenience him. “Cole, I appreciate all that you’ve done, but—”

“What are you afraid of,
Dr.
Allen?” His easy smile disintegrated into a flat, hard line. “Think I’ll steal your valuables?”

“No, of course not!” She was appalled that he’d even think such a thing. She was not prejudiced. She’d grown up watching how people up on the ridge treated everyone who lived on the back side of the ridge like they were beneath them. She’d hated that.

But even as she thought it, she reminded herself that she’d been thinking all morning how much more educated she was than Cole. Her thoughts must have shown through. Ashamed, she didn’t like herself very much at the moment. This man deserved nothing less than her respect, and she intended to prove that to him.

“Cole, I realize that up until this point, I’ve done nothing to indicate that I am not at all like some of the people who live up here. I genuinely do appreciate what you’ve done for me today, but I wouldn’t think to impose on you to clean up this mess. I’m sure you have other things to accomplish today.”

He looked away and swallowed what Josie hoped was his irritation with her. Or should she say “her kind?”

When he turned back to her, he said, “I just wanted to help out. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Josie looked into his eyes, and her heart tightened at what she saw. This proud man had spent his entire life helping people. She remembered him showing kindness to her on more than one occasion. But she, like the majority of the people up here, had not treated him as an equal. Josie Allen would no longer be counted among them.

She extended her hand to Cole and said, “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”

Without hesitation, he took her hand, which had never worked on anything harder than a computer keyboard, and engulfed it with his, that had known nothing but physical labor from the time he was a boy. At that moment, she felt the tenuous thread of an unlikely friendship form.

“I’ll lock up when I leave,” he softly promised, still holding her hand in his.

Josie nodded and pulled her tingling hand back, then delved into her purse to cover her reaction. “Let me write you a check.”

Shaking his head, he clasped her forearm and pulled her hand out of her bag. “Consider it a welcome home gift.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t—”

He laid a finger against her lips. She blinked, startled by such intimacy, yet intrigued at such openness. He slowly trailed the tip of his finger along the curve of her lip before easing his hands into his pockets. She pressed a hand to her chest, more to make sure her heart didn’t race right out of it than anything else.

“Course you can. I insist.”

Josie smiled. Everyone knew there was no arguing with a Craig when they refused compensation. She’d just have to think of another way to repay him.

*

Josie Lee Allen.

Cole watched her walk barefoot down the sidewalk in front of her house carrying her wet shoes as she headed back to town. She’d been pretty as a picture when she was a little girl. Her mama had sent her to school in those frilly dresses with ruffled petticoats and curled her golden red hair into ringlets that fell clear down to her waist. She’d gone through an awkward stage in middle and high school, but she’d come through it real nice.

He sat down on her front steps and gave the memories free rein. Growing up, he was sure she’d been given everything a little girl could ever dream of. She should have been happy, but she’d always seemed more suited to the company of her books than people. He remembered staring at her as she read, wondering what she found so fascinating in those boring books. So fascinating that she never even gave him, or anyone else, a second glance.

Now that little girl had grown into a woman so beautiful just looking at her made him ache. Even with her hair wrapped up in a tight knot at the back of her head and wearing a shapeless suit, when he’d stood close to her, it had been all he could do to keep his hands to himself.

Josie Lee Allen. God had been smiling down on him today when he’d found that leaky pipe under her house. He’d been looking for an excuse to speak to her since he’d seen her sitting on the park bench under the old oak tree in Town Square a week ago. She’d been eating an apple and reading a book. The scene rocketed him back about ten years.

He’d been painting the gazebo that stood in the middle of town. She’d been sitting on that same park bench reading. He kept stealing glances at her, wondering what she was reading. She’d worn that gorgeous red hair in a ponytail back then. Her drab sweatshirt and long skirt weren’t becoming, but there was something about her that intrigued him.