Page 6 of A Tempting Seduction (Protectors of Jasper Creek #5)

“That's not the point.” Walker's voice rose slightly. “We're trying to build a relationship with these people. Harvey Sadowski has connections all over East Tennessee. If we make a good impression on this project, it could lead to a dozen more.”

I pushed the office door open and stepped inside, frustration building in my chest. “So, make a good impression. You're perfectly capable of representing the company.”

“That's not how it works, and you know it. You're the detail guy. You're the one who catches problems before they become expensive mistakes.”

“Renzo knows what he's doing. The man has a degree from University College London and more practical experience than half the engineers I've worked with. If there's a problem with the specs, he'll catch it.”

“It's not about the specs.” Walker's voice carried the tone he used when he thought I was being deliberately obtuse. “It's about showing Harvey that we're taking his project seriously. That we're not just some small-town shop that's going to phone it in because we've got bigger fish to fry.”

The irony wasn't lost on me. Six months ago, Walker had been the one dragging his feet about taking on the Sadowski project. He'd wanted to stick with the Nashville work where the money was better and the clients less likely to know our families personally. I'd been the one pushing to come home.

“Harvey knows we're taking it seriously. The bid we submitted was competitive and detailed. Our timeline is realistic. And unlike half the contractors in this county, we actually return phone calls.”

“Look, just go over there today, okay? Check on things. Make sure there haven't been any changes that might affect our work. Schmooze a little.”

I dropped into the chair behind my desk and rubbed my temples. “You're co-owner of this company, Walker. You can schmooze just as well as I can. Better, actually.”

“I’m not the one who spots structural problems or catches design flaws.”

“There aren't any structural problems. It's a residential development, not a nuclear reactor.”

“Just do it, Ford. For me.”

The conversation was heading toward an argument, and I didn't have the energy for it. Not with the glazer situation hanging over my head and a dozen other details demanding attention.

“Fine. I'll swing by this afternoon.”

“Thank you.” Walker's relief was audible. “I knew you'd see reason.”

“Uh-huh.” I ended the call before he could say anything else that might really piss me off.

My brother meant well, but sometimes his approach to business relationships bordered on the obsessive.

Walker viewed every client as a potential long-term partnership that required constant attention and validation.

It was one of his strengths as a salesman, but it could drive me crazy when I was trying to focus on the actual work.

I was reaching for my desk phone to call the glazer when my cell buzzed again. This time Carrie's name appeared on the screen.

“Hey, sis.”

“Don't 'hey sis' me, Ford Larson. When's the last time you went grocery shopping?”

I blinked at the unexpected question. “I don't know. Last week?”

“Your refrigerator was empty except for a carton of milk that expired three days ago and a pizza box with one slice of something that might have been pepperoni if you squinted.”

“How do you know what's in my refrigerator?”

“Because I used my key to stock your pantry like any good sister would do. You can thank me later.”

Warmth and irritation warred in my chest. On one hand, Carrie meant well and I appreciated the gesture. On the other hand, the woman had a habit of treating me like one of her children instead of a grown man who was perfectly capable of feeding himself.

“Carrie, you don't need to?—”

“Yes, I do. Left to your own devices, you'd live on takeout and whatever expired condiments are lurking in your refrigerator door. I bought real food. Actual vegetables. Meat that doesn't come from a drive-through window.”

“Did you do the same thing for Walker?”

Carrie's laugh held a note of embarrassment. “I thought about it, but I was afraid some half-naked woman would come wandering out of his bedroom while I was taking inventory of his pantry.”

I couldn't argue with that logic. Walker's romantic life was like a revolving door of attractive women who never seemed to stick around longer than a few weeks. Walking into his house unannounced was playing Russian roulette with your embarrassment.

“Fair point.”

“I also left some of those frozen burritos you like and a case of that fancy beer from the brewery in Gatlinburg. The one Tommy brought to the barbecue last month.”

“You didn't have to do all that.”

“Of course I did. You're my baby brother. It's in the big sister handbook.”

“I'm thirty-one years old, Carrie.”

“Thirty-one-year-old baby brother. The principle remains the same.” Carrie's voice softened slightly. “Speaking of family obligations, you need to visit Mom and Dad soon. They're starting to think you're avoiding them.”

Guilt twisted in my stomach. I'd been meaning to drive out to their place for over a week, but something always seemed to come up. Work deadlines, client meetings, equipment maintenance. The excuses were valid, but they were still just excuses.

“I know. I'll go this weekend.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good. Mom's been cooking enough food for an army every other day, hoping you and Walker will show up for dinner. Dad pretends he doesn't care, but he asked me yesterday if you were eating enough.”

The guilt intensified. My parents had always been supportive of our business venture, even when it meant their sons working long hours and traveled for projects. The least I could do was show up for one of mom’s amazing meals.

“I'll be there Sunday.”

“Excellent. I'll tell them to expect you.” Carrie paused, and I could practically hear the gears turning in her head.

“Fantastic. Thanks, Sis.” I ended the call and leaned back in my chair, taking a moment before I’d have to call the glazer.

The phone rang again. Carrie's name flashed on the screen.

“What now?”

“Oh! I almost forgot. Here's a number. Got a pen?” She rattled off ten digits so quickly I barely caught them.

“A number for what?”

“For who. Ruby Miller. You know, the redhead from Java Jolt? The one you struck out with yesterday?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “How did you… Never mind. I don't want her number.”

“Of course you do. Ruby's perfect for you, Ford. She's smart, funny, hardworking, and she makes the best coffee in three counties. Plus, she's got that whole independent but nurturing woman thing going on that you find attractive.”

“I don't?—”

“Ford, she’s not Lydia. Now, you know I liked her. She was smart. She was competent and sometimes she could be funny.”

“Damned by faint praise,” I muttered.

“Come on Ford, Lydia wasn’t the woman for you.

She just about puked the first time she saw you change a dirty diaper.

And then there was the time that Cleo messed up her hair before y’all were going out to Lawton’s for dinner.

You could see she was ready to yell at my daughter, and she was only two. ”

“Lydia was, I mean, is, a good woman. She and I just had different goals.”

Carrie snorted. “You can say that again. She was all about work.”

“So was I at that point.”

“Bullshit, you always had time for family.”

I sighed. “Cut me some slack, Sis, Lydia’s in the past.”

“Which brings me back to Ruby. Now that I’ve given you her number, call her.

Just know that she's been through some stuff.

Even so, she's not the kind of girl who expects a man to fix all her problems. She's got a huge heart and she takes care of everyone around her.

Do you know she visits Luther and Violet Randolph every week?

And she quilts with the ladies at Dorothy's shop. She's salt of the earth, Ford.”

I found myself listening despite my better judgment. Everything Carrie said matched my impression of Ruby from our brief encounter. The woman who'd knelt beside me on Java Jolt's floor had radiated kindness and competence in equal measure.

“She told me she doesn't date.”

“She tells everyone she doesn't date. That doesn't mean she's not interested in the right guy.” Carrie's voice took on the tone she used when she was absolutely convinced she was right about something. “Trust me on this one. Ruby Miller is worth pursuing.”

“Carrie—”

“Just think about it, okay? What's the worst that could happen? She says no and you're exactly where you are right now. But what if she says yes?”

The question hung in the air between us like a challenge.

What if Ruby did say yes?

What if her initial rejection had been reflexive rather than absolute? What if Carrie was right about her being interested in the right guy?

“This is the last call I'm making to you today,” Carrie continued. “Or at least this morning. I promise.”

“Carrie, it's not even ten o'clock.”

“Exactly. I'm showing remarkable restraint.”

Despite my frustration, I found myself smiling. My sister's relentless optimism was both exhausting and endearing. She genuinely believed that every problem had a solution and every person deserved happiness. It was hard to stay irritated with someone whose biggest flaw was caring too much.

“I need to get back to work.”

“Of course you do. But, Ford? Think about what I said, okay? Ruby's one of the good ones.”

“I'll think about it.”

“That's all I ask. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I set the phone down and stared at the digits I'd scribbled on the back of an envelope. Ruby's number. Ten simple digits that represented either an opportunity or a recipe for humiliation.

I picked up the desk phone and dialed the glazer's number first. Business before personal life.

Always.

But as I listened to the phone ring, Ruby Miller's green eyes and that dimple in her left cheek stayed firmly lodged in my mind.

I had to remind myself that some risks were worth taking.