Page 94 of When Sparks Fly

“I’m not an idiot, either. How do I know you have the skills to even do all the stuff you’ve promised? You’re desperate enough to tell me anything, and the Andrea Wentworth I knew couldn’t be trust—” He glanced at Hudson, who was now following the conversation with interest. Zayne coughed. “Well, you know what I’m saying.”

She nodded slowly. “I do. How about this—give me ten days to make a dent in this...this...systemof yours. If you like what I put together, the corn maze isonfor the festival.” She smiled. “By the way, I have a bachelor’s degree in business, and I minored in accounting. I have the skills.”

They stared hard at each other for several long, silent minutes. The ball was in his court. She wouldn’t get much sleep if he agreed, but she’d save the festival—and her reputation—from disaster.

Zayne finally let out a loud sigh and held up his index finger for emphasis. “I’m only doing this to get you out of my hair. Ten days. And all I’m promising is toconsiderthe maze. But you’re really going to have to impress me, because I don’t want people traipsing all over my land.” He pointed to the door. “Nowwill you go away?”

She’d won. She tried to hold back a gloating smile.

“Can I take some of the older files with me to work on at home? And...” She looked at the messy stacks of papers. “I’ll have to stop by here a few evenings this week after work, too.”

He picked up a chisel in one hand and a wooden mallet in the other, no longer focused on her. “I’m usually around.”

Once outside, she couldn’t help doing a little skip and hop on her way to the car, swinging Hudson in the air with a victorious laugh. Zayne Rutledge was no longer a problem. He was an opportunity.

A good-looking, grumpy, talented opportunity.

CHAPTER FOUR

“IT’SFRIDAYNIGHT,” Zayne said. “Don’t you have someplace better to be?”

Andrea looked up from her perch on his office chair. She never reallysatanywhere. She was always at the edge of the seat, as if ready to leap up and tackle someone.

“I only have a few days left to finish this up. No rest for the weary.” She straightened. “Oh, are you sayingyouhave someplace to be? I don’t mind working here alone.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely interfering with my busy social life, Andrea.” He shook his head and went back to work on the custom gingerbread trim he was designing for a client. Mrs. Shellar’s house was really more farmhouse-style than Victorian, but she wanted it to fit in with the historic Victorians the area was famous for. She was adding new trim to the peaks and porch posts, but she wanted them to look like they’d always been there.

The problem was that he was more focused on Andrea’s presence most evenings than on woodworking. And using a large band saw was not something you wanted to do without being fully focused—that was a good way to lose a finger.

It was warm in the shop, and a soft sheen of sweat made Andrea’s freckled skin shimmer like satin. Her hair was pulled up into a clip, with a few long red strands breaking free and clinging to her neck. She was in shorts today, her legs just as freckled as her arms. Her yellow knit top was clinging to every mature but familiar curve. She’d seemed an untouchable goddess when they were in school—a girl he could laugh and dream with when no one was looking, but never one to be touched.

He’d become accustomed to her work patterns this week. She’d scatter papers across the desk, sorting them into piles by some unknown logic of hers. Every once in a while she’d stop and just stare at them with a scowl. Then she’d come to a decision and pounce, quickly re-sorting the piles to solve her puzzle. Most evenings she’d had Hudson with her, but not tonight. Zayne was surprised to realize he missed the kid’s constant questions.

What’cha makin’?

What’s that for?

Is that danjah-rus?

Can I try, Mr. Zayne?

They’d settled onMr. Zaynebecause Hudson just couldn’t figure out how to sayRutledge. The shop was quiet without him.

“Is Hudson with his dad tonight?”

Andrea looked up in surprise, then shook her head. “Zoey Hartford’s daughter, Hazel, is babysitting him for a few hours. You must be loving the quiet without him.”

“Is his dad around here?” Zayne knew it was none of his business, but the question just came out.

She sat back in the chair. “Why are you asking?”

He lowered his head, staring at the half-carved chunk of wood in his hand. “I have no idea. Sorry.”

After a moment, she gave a sigh. “His father isn’t in his life. It was a mutual decision.”

He thought about that, then shrugged. “Fathers aren’t always the best influence for a kid.”

His dad had gone from petty crimes to far more serious ones, including selling drugs and committing armed robbery to getmoredrugs. His last robbery had left a man dead. Dad hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he’d ended up facing life in prison.

---