Page 30 of Takes Two to Tango

He was a piece of forbidden fruit she wasn't going to take a bite of him. No matter how nice he was to Henry or Aunt Fran or to her.

"Rayne?" Aunt Fran's voice checked her back into reality.

“I'll run the payment over to Dawn later."

Aunt Fran frowned. "I would think since this venture is so important to you, you'd want to check the job Dawn did before we haul them all the way here. Not to mention, she'd probably appreciate payment on delivery."

Point for Aunt Fran. It did make sense. Rayne looked at the salad experiment station like a lazy chef de garde manger. The second salad on her menu would have to wait. She untied her apron. "Fine. Just make sure the landscaper puts marigolds around the veggie garden in back. They are natural deterrents, and since we're all organic-"

"Right-o," her aunt said with a rather satisfied smile. Rayne knew that if it were up to Aunt Fran she'd have Rayne wrapped in a satin bow and delivered to Brent's bed. For some messed-up reason, her aunt thought Brent would be good for Rayne. But Rayne knew she couldn't play with him like all the other women in town did and not fall under his spell. Her heart was too vulnerable.

Rayne sidestepped the new bedside tables that had arrived via UPS earlier that morning and glanced at the antique grandfather clock in the foyer. Only five minutes until Henryjumped from the top step of the bus into the cushion of the St. Augustine at the curbside. Lucky her. Henry could ride with them and provide a buffer.

She stepped onto the porch. Brent wasn't there, but she heard clanging sounds coming from the truck he'd parked at the side of the house. She slipped on the flip-flops she'd left sitting on the front porch steps and headed toward him.

"Damn it!" were the words that met her as she approached the back of the construction-scarred truck.

Brent stood staring at a length of board. He threw the tape measure down. It clanged against the scratched metal of the truck bed.

"Measure twice cut once," Rayne said, moseying up and propping her arms on the truck bed as if she stalked sexy contractors every day.

"I taught you that," he said, rubbing a hand over his dark hair. Small flecks of sawdust stood out on the velvety richness like dandruff on a black dress. He had taught her the rule when they'd made birdhouses and feeders one summer. He used the kit his uncle had given him for constructing the houses and she'd painted them bright colors. They'd taken most of them to the Shady Oak Retirement Village to place outside the atrium. The feeders had been a hit.

"I knew I'd learned it somewhere. I put that into practice when I'm cooking, too," Rayne said, noting that the man looked extraordinarily good for someone who'd been working all morning. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and she could see the veins on his forearms. She didn't know why it was sexy. It just was.

Brent opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment the squealing of brakes interrupted the tranquility of the afternoon. The bus ground to a stop in front of the driveway, opening the doors before actually stopping. Henry flew out, taking five stepsbefore spinning and throwing a wave toward a window at the back of the bus. Rayne saw the flash of a small hand along with a blond ponytail. A girl's voice shouted, "Bye, Hank."

Rayne rolled her eyes.

A smiling Henry ran their way.

"Hey, Coach!" he shouted, heaving his backpack onto his shoulder as he pounded toward them. He swerved around a root, and the backpack shifted and fell from his sturdy shoulders, hitting the ground and spewing its contents on the grass. He stopped and tried shoving everything inside, but pencils, erasers and papers littered the ground.

Rayne sighed and moved toward him. He never zipped his backpack. She'd told him a dozen times.

Henry rifled through the workbooks and binders, pulling his copy ofThrowing the Stinky Cheesefrom the depth. "I finished the book!"

Brent tossed the board he held into the back of his truck and strolled toward Henry. “Nice.”

"I can't believe Ben was so mean to Charlie. I mean, he was on his team and everything. I felt real bad for Charlie." Henry handed the book to Brent. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. It was way better than that mouse book."

Rayne knew the look on Henry's face. He wanted to ask Brent something more, but didn't know how to do it the right way.

"So you wanna borrow another one? I have one about a kid who thinks he's bad at sports but finds out lacrosse is his game," Brent said.

Henry cocked his head. "What's lacrosse?"

Brent smiled. "I guess you'll find out."

Henry nodded "Cool."

"Henry, put your things back in your binder and next time zip up before you bail off the bus," Rayne said.

Her son shot Brent a look that said, "See? This is what I get all the time," before squatting and shoving papers in willy-nilly.

Rayne almost smiled but instead she redirected her gaze to Brent. "Aunt Fran said you were going to the hardware store and would be willing to pick up some items from Dawn Hart. Do you mind if I ride with you? I want to settle up with Dawn and check the work before we haul everything back here."

"Can I come, too?" Henry asked, biting his lip in effort to seal the bulging backpack.

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