“Hi!”
He spun around, a fleeting smile on his face. “Ash? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I just came to talk business. I made a list of the antiques I won’t be using.”
His head tilted. “You’ve decided to use some of them in the restaurant?”
“Yes. I’m thinking I’ll call it Great Scott, and make it kind of an eclectic mix of new and old.”
“I like it!” As he took a step toward her, his mouth pulled back in a wince.
“Is your leg hurting?”
His shoulders dropped, and he turned back to his project. “Yeah. I limp worse when it’s cold and damp. No use pretending I’m not crippled if the weather’s bad.”
His joking laugh was tinged with bitterness, but she sensed sympathy would be ill-received.
“Ha! You think I’m going to fall for that sob story?”
“What?” He looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows arched high.
“You think because I bake goodies for the folks down at the rehab center, you’re going to get some by claiming to be crippled? No way.”
His lips curved in a half-hearted smile. “Still... a girl like you would never want to be with a gimp like me.”
Ash felt her blood boiling. She wanted to scratch the eyes off whoever made Adam feel like this. “Any girl who thinks that way doesn’t deserve a guy as awesome as you.”
“Do you mean that?’
Suddenly, he was standing close, his earnest eyes searching hers. Her heart pattered in a zig-zag.
I can’t control my feelings. This is hopeless. I have to drive him away before I do something stupid.
“We need to talk about paint colors for you grandmother’s house, Adam.” Her throat felt tight, but she squeezed the words out.
He waved his hand. “I don’t care anymore, Ash. I’m sure you’ll choose something appropriate.”
“Black and hot pink!”
“Huh?” He blinked.
“Black and hot pink,” she repeated. “I want to paint the house black with hot pink trim.”
The muscles rippled along his jaw. “Surely you don’t intend to use black and pink on the house itself. You’re welcome to paint the exterior a normal color and add a sign with your neon colors, so long as it meets the city ordinance requirements.”
“Those are the colors I like.” Ash retreated, almost tripping over Kujo as she escaped into the rain.
Chapter Eleven
ADAM POUNDED AT THE stubborn nail, cursing when his hammer missed, denting the wood. His concentration was blown—all because of Ash Hendrix. From the moment he met her, he’d been frustrated with her unpredictable behavior—hot one minute and cold the next. But the past week or so, since proclaiming her absurd paint colors, she’d settled into a consistent sub-zero.
Still... he loved her.
He knew that now, just as he also knew he’d never been in love with Darla. He knew without a doubt he loved Ash Hendrix because, for the first time in his life, he wanted to be with her more than he wanted to live in Romance and follow his dreams.
Adam knew Ash was unhappy here, having hinted all week about returning to New York, though she seemed to love spending time with his family. When he realized she might not stay in Romance, he told himself they could never be together. Because his heart refused to listen to his own advice, he began researching work opportunities in New York. So far, he’d found no jobs available in the Big Apple for an antique dealer/furniture restorer/rancher.
Forcing his attention back to the task at hand, this time he swung the hammer with too much force, bending the antique nail. “Arghh!!”