Small-Town Girl (5 page)

His hand closed around his car keys, letting the metal bite into his palm.

This wasn't like him at all—entertaining daydreams of spending time with a woman he hardly knew. No...make that spending time with any woman at all. He'd set the desire for a wife and family to the side. He had his shipping business to worry about, his little sister to watch over, but most important, he'd decided ten years ago that relationships weren't for him.

A man tended to think like that after the woman he was dating responded to his marriage proposal by laughing right in his face.

He shook his head.

Maybe he was overtired or stressed. Brice rubbed his jaw. He hadn't been sleeping well. That had to be it. Because it couldn't be that he was attracted to Kendall. That didn't fit into the plan he had for his life. Not one bit.

Chapter Four

“I
'll check into the hot air balloon idea, but I don't think that'll be a problem.” Kendall smiled as she spoke into the phone because she'd learned early on in her event-planning career that doing so made her voice stay pleasant despite her stress level. The man on the other end of the line was planning how to propose to his girlfriend; of course Kendall would do everything she could to make the date perfect.

“Great. Do you know when you'll be able to call me with a ballpark figure?”

“By Monday at the latest.” Kendall wrote a note in her planner along with the man's phone number.

“That'll work.”

“She's blessed to have you.” She turned toward her computer and opened a new web browser. “You sound very thoughtful.”

“Not as blessed as I am to have her.”

The bell that hung above the door to her building rang as Kendall ended the phone call, but she turned away from the entrance, back to her computer, determined to find a good deal for the hot air balloon date. So far, yesterday and all of today, not once had the creaking front door meant someone was entering her portion of the divided building. Although a very steady line of customers—mostly women—entered Evan's woodshop.

Brice's younger brother definitely had the charm of the family. Kendall fought an eye roll. She'd experienced the attention of enough
charming
men to last a lifetime. No, thank you. Her past showed that men like Evan only stayed interested in a woman until the next one walked by. Attention was nice, but it didn't last. If she had to describe the man of her dreams—which of course she wasn't looking for because she wasn't interested in dating—these days Kendall preferred men like Brice. Steady, dependable and—

“Well, don't you just look all in a daze?” The singsong voice of Claire Atwood broke through Kendall's thoughts.

“Claire.” Kendall jolted from her seat, upending her foam coffee cup. Her mocha spattered over the edge of the desk and cascaded onto the floor with a splash. A small
eep!
escaped from Claire's lips as she dodged the liquid, narrowly missing getting some on her white pants.

“Oh no.” Kendall raced to the back room and returned with a wad of paper towels. “I know there's a bell on my door, but I didn't hear you. I'm so sorry.” She dabbed at the spilled coffee, catching most of it before it rolled toward the computer tower. Her day planner, on the other hand, was completely soaked. Ruined.

Sesser's daughter sprang into action. She ran back for more paper towels and then bent down to mop up the rest of the mess from the floor. “You didn't hear me? I don't know how that could be possible! We'll have to get you a bigger bell over the door.” She laughed.

“Please don't.” Kendall shoved all the dripping towels into the waste bin. She'd deal with emptying the now-jammed trash can later. “You and your father have already done so much for me. I can't accept any more. I can't—”

“How about one more tiny, little thing?” Claire held up a manicured nail and winked at her.

“I couldn't pos—”

“But first, care if I close the door?” Claire padded across the office on ballet flats and shut the front door.

The woman was everything Kendall wasn't—poised, tall and slender—beautiful with pale skin and reddish copper hair. Even in four-inch heels, Kendall wouldn't have been eye level with her.

“Here.” Claire walked back to Kendall's desk and placed a business card in front of her in the same manner as if she was handing over a trophy. “He's going to call you for an interview probably in the next day or two, so if you want to work through some quotable material, I'm game.”

Kendall picked up the card.
Jason Moss. Reporter.
“An interview?”

Claire nodded. “He's the editor of the local paper, but his pieces often get picked up by the bigger papers and news outlets, and he's a part of a tourist-friendly blog too. The initial publicity will be great, and if it gets picked up, that could mean big business for you.”

“It's all a bit overwhelming.” Kendall still had dates to research, another client to call back and a meeting with Brice in the morning to help paint the boat they would use for the sunset cruises. Her business had been open for only two days. How would she manage more? “I don't know what to say. Thank you.”

“Remember not to mention the partnership with my father, though.” Claire tilted her head and spoke in a whisper. “If it becomes public, he has the right to back out of his deal with you and call in your loan in full. Remember that.”

A rumble of dread simmered low in Kendall's chest. “I'm aware of that.” She pressed a pushpin through the business card and stuck it onto the corkboard wall behind her computer. “I won't say a thing.”

Claire sank into the chair on the other side of the desk and dropped her large purse into her lap. “Speaking of Daddy, he mentioned that you've already set up a weekly event. Way to make quick work of that.” She winked. “I'm so impressed.”

Kendall folded her hands on top of the bare desk, missing her day planner already. “Brice Daniels and I are going to host weekly sunset cruises and have even talked about expanding to dinner tours if the cruises go well.”

“Oh.” Claire's smile faltered. “One of the Daniels boys. I see.”

Kendall licked her lips. “Do you know him?”

“Of course.” Her smile came back, but it pulled tight around the corners. Forced. “It's my family's business to know everyone in town.”

“But...do you like him?” Why was Kendall's heart pounding so hard?

“Honestly I'm not close to Brice Daniels, but I've had...dealings with other people in his family.” Claire's gaze skirted toward the wall that separated Kendall's office from Evan's storefront. “Let's just say they didn't prove to be dependable.” She closed her eyes tightly for a moment. “But we're talking business, not gossiping about Goose Harbor locals, right?”

“Of course.”

“My father thinks you have a great idea, and he's excited to be a part of it. I just stopped by to see if you needed help with anything else.”

“Excited?” The man had not seemed thrilled when she last talked to him. Pleased maybe—at the opportunity to diversify his business dealings—but not excited.

“Well, as excited as my dad gets.” Claire grinned. “He has a pretty monotone emotional scale, so don't take any offense if he acts like being your partner is as fun as eating broccoli.”

“Good to know.”

“Besides, you'll deal with me and not him most of the time.” Claire laid her hand over her heart. A gold watch with diamonds around the face let Kendall know that while Claire might joke about her father's monotone emotions, she was a daddy's girl. Or at the least, didn't mind spending her father's money.

She pulled a piece of paper from her purse. “In that vein, here are some numbers you can reach me at.” Claire handed over the paper—home, parents' home, cell and office. At the bottom of the page was written GHonaDime4.

Claire kept speaking. “You can call me at any time if you have questions or concerns.” Her eyes widened, as if she had remembered something. “While we're talking business, you should know that we've set up a professional website for you. I'm managing it for now, so let me know if there is anything you want changed or updated. The password is at the bottom of the page so you can go on and add things and we can link your social media so you can have a live stream of pictures and Tweets for advertising.”

Password. So that explained the odd word on the page.

“A website?” Kendall set the paper down and rubbed her temples. While the Atwoods' enthusiasm was encouraging, it was a lot to take in all at once. Kendall couldn't help dwelling for a second on the fact that most of her business decisions had been taken away in the deal. What if she'd wanted to plan her own website?

“We want you to be successful, and we're here to make sure that happens. But, Kendall...” Claire smiled again. “We're not here to steamroll you or your dream. Got that? At least I'm not. I'm going to be a middleman between you and my father, but I'd also like to be your friend. Those phone numbers I gave you... You can call me for things other than business. Actually I'd like that a lot.”

Kendall nodded but wondered about the wisdom of becoming friends with the daughter of someone she'd gone into business with. Claire seemed nice enough, though, and the guarded look in her large blue eyes made Kendall wonder if—just maybe—it was lonely being the only daughter of a wealthy, powerful businessman. And if anyone knew about feeling alone, it was no-roots-in-life Kendall. Her heart went out to the woman.

“I'd like that too.”

Claire let out a breath. “Now that all of that is settled, I have to head out. More meetings. You know how that goes.” She pulled her phone out of her purse, glanced at it and put it back. “I'll see you around.”

On the way out, Claire closed the door again. Kendall glanced at the clock and discovered it was past time to lock up. She might as well close up the shop and head home, where she could work on her laptop in the comfort of her sweatpants.

A light knock sounded at the door just as she was gathering the plastic bag out of the waste bin. Who—besides Claire—would stop in so late?

“Come in?” she called with a slight amount of hesitation.

Brice's brother ducked his head inside the door. “I'm not interrupting you, am I?”

She shoved her thick bangs out of the way of her eyes as she stood. “How can I help you, Evan?”

“Oh...nothing... I just thought...” He wrapped his hand over the back of his neck. “Did I see...? Was that Claire Atwood in here a few minutes ago?”

“It was.” Kendall tied the top end of the garbage bag in a knot and then looked back over at him again. “Did you need something else?”

“No.” He shrugged but stayed in the same spot. “Was she here to have a date planned?”

If Kendall answered honestly, that could lead to more questions, but she also didn't want to lie. It was clear by how they both behaved that something obviously had happened between Evan and Claire in the past, so no matter what she said, she also didn't want to make him believe something incorrect either.

Kendall shoved a file folder into her large purse. “She was only here as a friend.”

“Right. Of course. I should have...” Evan grabbed the door handle. “Have a great night, okay?”

“You too.” Kendall waved as he shut the door.

She shook her head and bit back an exasperated laugh. At least she could say one thing for the Daniels brothers. They knew how to keep a girl on her toes. It was clear whom Evan cared about. If only Brice was as easy to read.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Brice filled his lungs with the smell of sawdust and new plastic—common, workingman smells. That simple practice helped ease the knot in his gut that had been there since leaving his second voice mail at Sesser Atwood's office.

Couldn't the man return a phone call?

Brice half believed that Sesser wasn't returning his messages simply because he was one of the Danielses and Atwood and Brice's father had an ocean full of bad water under their bridge. Truth be known, they hadn't even built a bridge over the gulf between the families. Nothing could. Still, for the sunset cruises he needed to move his paddle wheeler to the downtown pier. Kendall was right. Tourists only showed up on the working dock if they were lost and looking for directions. They never came there by choice. But he couldn't arrange to have a sunset cruise boat at the correct pier if Sesser wouldn't return his calls, which meant he'd have to go speak to the man in person.

Brice gulped in another huge breath of sawdust air.

He pushed the large shopping cart down the aisle of the hardware store toward the outdoor paints while Kendall lagged behind. With her attention trained on her smartphone and not on where she was going, she'd bumped into him at least three times. He'd already saved her from knocking over a huge display of motor oil.

He turned a corner and waited to make sure she didn't get lost. A teenage boy cut close in front of her, almost making her lose her footing. For a moment, her large eyes went even wider. She lost hold of her cell phone but then flung out her arm, catching it against her stomach as she stumbled forward.

Brice grabbed her elbow, steadying her. “You know, if you put that thing down and watched where you were going, you wouldn't keep almost falling.”

Kendall swiped a notification off the screen. “Right.” She didn't look up. “I'd also have to wait to respond to this email, which would cost me time that I need to use to call vendors later. Time is money. You've heard that expression before, haven't you?” Her gaze bounced up to his for a heartbeat.

“Sure.” He gently covered her phone's screen with his hand. “But how about the one that says turn off the phone and live your life?”

She narrowed her eyes as a small smile crept onto her face. “That doesn't sound like a famous saying.”

“It's not, but it should be.”

She tugged the phone out from under his hand and started typing on it again. “I have four dates to plan and it's only opening week. Can you believe that? I envisioned this all starting slower.”

“Too much business? Sounds like a good problem to have.” He wished he had such a
problem
. Not that he could complain. God always took care of his needs, but sometimes—especially lately—it felt like he and God were in different time zones altogether. Their timing never quite lined up.

Yesterday there hadn't been enough money to pay his men, cover the insurance costs on all his boats, fully gas them and do all the required repairs. And if there was one thing he'd never do, it was shortchange his workers. So they'd shuffled shipments around, combining the goods based on drop-off locations so they could use fewer boats, pulling ones out of dock that weren't going to be insured that month. His company would receive payment upon delivery and Brice would be in the black again—but for how long? He'd worried. Paced his tin-can-sized office in the warehouse. And prayed.