Every Kind of Heaven & Everyday Blessings: Every Kind of Heaven / Everyday Blessings

“Oh, that’s scarier than starting my own business.” She swiped a lock of golden hair out of her eyes, looking adorable. “It’s that fault-blind thing. You look perfect to me, but it’s just because I can’t see the flaws. It’s like walking blind into a tornado.”

“Good. No man wants you to see his flaws.”

“Some people are better at hiding them than others.” She followed him into the kitchen where sunlight highlighted the drawings he’d set out beside the bakery box. “Take me, my flaws are totally noticeable.”

“I haven’t noticed any flaws.”

“Sure you haven’t. What about those accusations?”

“Those were perfectly understandable considering you were confusing me with a Darrin Fullerton.”

Really, he was just trying to get her to like him, and it wasn’t going to work. Absolutely not. The same way she wasn’t going to notice how wonderfully tall he was. Solid. Substantial. How he looked like a man who could shoulder any burden. Solve any problem.

Okay, she was starting to notice, but only just a little. Really.

Rex, the perfect gentleman, was sitting there with his big innocent eyes showing just how good and deserving he was of a scone. Ava turned her attention to the dog because there was no reason why she shouldn’t fall in love with Rex. She grabbed one of the cheerful iced treats. “Here you go, handsome.”

Rex delicately took the scone from her fingertips, gave her a totally adoring look and sucked the sweet down in one gulp.

“He seems to like your baking,” Brice said with a grin. “Can you stay for a while? I can pour you a cup of coffee if you want to look over the—”

“Oh.” She was already looking at the drawings, and it was her turn to be utterly adoring. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Could she talk? No. The penciled images had stolen every word from her brain. Her mind was a total blank except for a single thought.

Perfect.

He’d taken the photos she’d shown him yesterday and transformed them into her vision. Into exactly what she’d imagined. There it was. Curlicue scrollwork and rosebud-patterned moldings and carvings framing the wood and glass bakery case. “There’s no way I can afford this.”

“Custom woodwork is built into the estimate you signed. This would be for the same price. We’ve agreed to it.”

“How can that be? I love this, don’t get me wrong, but this can’t be what was on the estimate. I know it’s not.”

“Rafe doesn’t do woodwork, so pricing it is a mystery to him. Trust me. I can do this for the same price as he quoted you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. There’s no hidden costs and no hidden agendas. With me, what you see is what you get.”

“Businesswise, right?”

“Always.”

She loved the sincerity in his words. The honesty he projected was totally irresistible. Now she had to like him. But just a pinch. A smidgen. But not a drop more.

“I love this.” She traced the drawn image of the bakery case with her fingertips. “This is my dream.”

“That was the idea.” He leaned closer to study the drawing, too, and to set a coffee cup in front of her. The steely curve of his upper arm brushed against her shoulder and stayed.

The trouble was, she noticed. She liked being close to him. She felt safe and secure and peaceful, as if everything was right in the world.

“If I have your approval, then I’ll get started in the wood shop today. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Send two dozen of these scones to my office along with the bill.” He moved away to take another treat from the box and broke it in half. Tossed one piece to the dog, who caught it like a pro ballplayer, and kept the other for himself. “Do you deliver?”

“For you, I could make an exception.”

“Excellent. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Miss McKaslin.”

“Anytime, Mr. Donovan.” It was a good thing she had her priorities straight in life. Because otherwise, she could completely fall for him. Talk about doom!

She pushed away from the table, away from his presence and away from the wish of what could be. She grabbed her cup of coffee. “Later, Donovan.”

“Later, McKaslin.”

She gave Rex a pat and sauntered out of her shop like a businesswoman totally in charge of her life and her heart.

It was a complete facade.

* * *

Rex’s high yelping rose above the grind of the radial saw. Brice slipped down his protective glasses and glanced over his shoulder toward the open workshop door.

Maura, his secretary, had walked the twenty or so yards from the front office and stood staring at him, her arms crossed over her chest, looking like a middle-aged spinster despite the fact that they’d gone through public school together. “The scones you ordered are here. Talk about amazing. We’re all taking a coffee break. You want to come join us?”

“Ava was here?” He hadn’t expected her to be by so fast. He’d figured she would have to make another batch, but she must have made enough originally. He hadn’t planned on that, he’d been busy working on her molding and now he’d missed her.

Maura shrugged. “I didn’t know you wanted to see her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t run off next time.”

She gave him that smile that women have, the knowing one that means you aren’t fooling them one bit, and he was floored. Just how many people had guessed about his feelings for Ava?

“I’ve heard her cakes are heavenly.” Maura paused in the doorway, giving that smile again. “When you order next time, remember—we all love chocolate. Don’t forget, now.”

“It’s a business relationship.” It was the truth. For now. “What makes you think it isn’t?”

Maura arched one brow and stared pointedly at the pile of wood. “You always take the summer months off, but it’s now June and look, you’re still here. You aren’t fooling me. And for your 4-1-1, she’s really nice. She goes to my church and we’re in the same Bible study. I could put in a good word for you.”

“I can handle it, thanks.”

“It’s just that I know what happened with Whitney. It wasn’t your fault.” Maura kindly didn’t say more on that topic. “I hope you know what you’re doing. You haven’t dated in a long time.”

“Thanks, Maura, but I have a plan.”

“Well, if you need a woman’s opinion, you can always run it by me.” She hesitated again. “Thanks for the scones. They are wonderful.” And finally she was gone, shutting the door tight behind her.

A plan? That wasn’t what he’d thought to call it before now. He lifted the length of wood from the bench, a smooth piece of oak that would gleam like honey when he was through with it. He had a plan, of sorts. He intended to work hard. To deliver on his promise to Ava. To show her that he could help her with this dream. Maybe—God willing—with all her dreams.

The problem was, he didn’t know if he could get her to go to dinner with him. It wasn’t looking promising at this moment in time.