Soldier, Handyman, Family Man

What? She took another sip of her coffee. Maybe she was ready to...

Oh, the mere thought made her stomach knot and a hope chest of guilt crash over her shoulders. But there he was, sharing his family’s story, natural as could be, smiling with pride. What could be wrong with a little longing?

She took another sip, admiring every aspect of Mark Delaney. She’d caught him checking her out earlier, and knew how that felt. Good, by the way. Now the tables were turned, but she didn’t want to give the wrong impression, and the last thing she needed was to get caught. Taking yet another sip of her cooling coffee, she wondered how long she could hide behind her teacup before being obvious.

Chapter Three (#u42a91e71-c08c-5e48-abc8-5f6868235422)

“Hey, Peter, give me a hand,” Mark said that Wednesday afternoon, as he prepared to sink the white posts for the brand-spanking-new Prescott Bed-and-Breakfast sign.

The teen sat on the front porch playing a handheld video game and didn’t bother to look up.

So he made his loud tooth whistle. “Dude!”

Finally, Peter’s head bobbed up.

“Come help.” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t know how.”

“So you’ll learn.”

Reluctantly, Peter put down his device and padded in his flip-flops across the grass toward Mark. “Like I said, I don’t know how to do this stuff, and we’re supposed to have another surf lesson.”

“We’ll make up for that tomorrow.” He watched the kid hide his disappointment. “I promise.”

That got a better response.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

Over the next hour Mark showed Peter how to dig a hole, set an anchor, use an electric drill—which he especially liked—place washers and install a nut. Peter had obviously never so much as hammered a nail, but the how-to approach seemed to capture his interest enough. At least he tried.

“See that pile of wood over there?” Mark pointed to the grassy yard across the road, between the hotel and the beach.

“Yeah?”

“That’s going to be a gazebo, and I want you to help me build it this weekend.”

“Me!” The kid’s voice cracked and his eyes nearly bugged out.

“Yeah, you need experience hammering nails, and I can teach you how to use more power tools, a crosscut saw, table and band saw, you name it. What do you say?”

“Why?”

“Because knowing how to do a few useful things will build your confidence.” Which he needed. And will come in handy for your mother, too. “Like learning how to surf.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Surf?”

“No. Help.”

Not an option. Think fast. “Think of it this way. Our hotel is right on Main Street, the biggest road that leads straight to the beach.” He glanced up the road lined with palm and fruitless olive trees, small local businesses, storefronts and, in the distance on a hill, the local high school. “All the girls come this way to the beach, and they’ll see you building stuff. They’ll notice you. Might open some doors.”

Peter stood staring across the street at the pile of wood, then glanced up toward what passed as the town center, small as it was.

“It’s better than babysitting your sisters, isn’t it?” Mark noticed the click in his expression from on-the-fence to makes-perfect-sense. Whether it was the girls or not dealing with his sisters, Mark had sold him on the proposition, and though the last thing he needed was a novice assistant, he wanted to help the kid. Maybe he’d find out something new about himself, feel better and, like he’d said, be more confident. Or, he could smash his finger with a hammer, get the mother of all splinters and never want to go near wood again. It was a gamble, but worth the risk.

A half hour later, after a few finishing touches on the posts, and with plans to meet Saturday morning to begin building, they’d hung the B&B sign.

“It’s beautiful!” Laurel called from the porch, her eyes bright with excitement. It was obvious she’d made a conscious effort not to hover over her son while he helped Mark, but from a safe distance she’d followed the whole process. “I’ve got to take a picture.” She whipped out her phone and rushed down the yard toward them.

“You get in it, and I’ll take the picture,” Mark offered.

“Oh.” Her hand flew to her hair. “I wasn’t planning on—”

“You look fine. I’ll get a few shots and you can choose the best one, then put it on Facebook.”

“I’m not crazy about social media.”

“But you’ve got to create a buzz.”

“You’ve got a point.” She glanced at her son. “Peter, you worked so hard on this, come be in the picture with me?” she said with pride.

“Ah, Mom.” He obviously didn’t want anything to do with smiling for a camera, but he hadn’t wanted to help sink the posts, either, and there they were.

“We want to!” Claire came rushing through the screen door and down the porch steps wearing plastic play heels, clicking all the way, Gracie hot on her tail clack, clack, clacking. Laurel split them up, putting one on each side of the sign.

After some arm-twisting, Mark managed to get a picture of the entire family, with a good portion of the beautiful house behind them. He had to admit, Laurel’s smile was captivating, and he thought about secretly sending a copy of one shot in particular to his email. It was of her alone, of course, looking proud, maybe a little nervous but alluring, as she often did. Her understated confidence was just one of the things he liked about her.

“This is the best picture. Agree?”

She shrugged, but he could tell she liked it, too. Yeah, that one, definitely that one. “Should I post it?”

“Sure.”

It was time to face the fact. His grandfather had a word for it—smitten. Mark would never use that term, but he needed to admit he dug her. Yup. There. He’d finally allowed himself to think it. He liked her, and not just in a pure neighborly sort of way. Ready or not. Maybe he’d blame it on the tangerine pedicure.

“There you go.” He handed her the phone. “Anything you want to say with the picture?”

“Oh, sure.” Her thumbs flew over the phone, and Mark took the opportunity to watch her up close. Yeah, as bad of an idea as it was, he liked her all right.

* * *

Laurel finally realized, with Mark’s hinting, she was behind in the social media game. Instead of going all ditzy over an appealing man like she’d been doing since he’d helped her that first day, she needed to hunker down and finalize her plan for opening the B&B. Sure, she’d given it a lot of thought before she’d bought the place, but making the move and starting the kids in new schools all at the same time had taken her eye off the prize.

She had catching up to do and plans to firm up. Ads to run in the tricounty local papers, visits to make to the chamber of commerce.

What about a mock run? She could invite three local travel agents to spend the night as a sort of rehearsal, maybe get some good endorsements in the process. Her head spun with new ideas, thanks to Mark’s gentle nudging, and she needed to get back on her game, instead of ogling her sexy neighbor. Pronto.