Rough Edges (2 page)

Allie stuck her umbrella out of the car, popping it open before stepping out. A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. She hadn’t imagined it’d be pouring buckets when she pulled up to Braden’s house. The noise, wetness, and sheer chaos of it all were messing with her already frazzled nerves. Of course she shouldn’t complain. Montana hadn’t seen such a mild start to March for as far back as Allie could remember. Better rain than a blizzard, she decided. 

Cool drops splattered the tops of her feet as she stepped out. The oversized woodshop, complete with high, vaulted ceilings, was nearly twice the size of the attached home. The garage, connected to the other side of the shop, was nestled beneath a massive oak, its limbs showing hints of green, budding leaves. Allie let the nostalgia sink in. She’d come here countless times with Terrance to pick up Braden for a night out with friends. Remembered watching him trail down the very steps leading to the old white, painted door. During her married years, Allie had been there only once – on a very late and distraught night that she tried not to think about.

The same old sign hung out front, the words
Fox’s Custom Woodwork
nearly hidden by great vines of ivy climbing the post. Tender leaves clung to the red brick of the home, as well as the pale yellow siding of the large shop and matching garage. The rain fell harder as she neared, causing the beating rhythm to pick up its pace. Her nerves pounded out a similar beat, creating chaos in her stomach as she trudged over the pitted pavement, dodging puddles along the way.

Taking one hand off the umbrella, Allie smoothed over the front of her skirt. How would he act when he saw her? Would he be surprised? There was no doubt he’d caught wind of the divorce. What did he think about his once-close friend walking out on her and the girls?

The doorknob, a dull brass, seemed to glare at her. Daring her to open it. At last she reached out, twisted the rain-splattered knob, and pulled in a breath as she discovered it was unlocked. She held that breath as she pushed open the door.

“Hello?” she said, turning to shake off her umbrella. When no one answered, Allie stepped inside the small entry room which served as an office, eyeing the high, vaulted ceilings. The sounds had changed. What used to be shallow thumps against the dome of her umbrella was now a full on orchestra. From the tight plinking against the tin siding, to the echoing thuds pattering the glass of the skylight windows overhead. The unceasing beat brought the space to life. That, and a bright glow of yellow light streaming from the industrial bulbs.

“Hello?” she tried again, glancing about the area. A dividing wall separated the small office from the shop. Allie stepped around the corner for a better look. The workspace was greater than Allie imagined. Large workbenches and tables stood clustered throughout the area. Along the outer wall, an array of chisels and picks hung from small pegs, their metal surfaces ranging from shiny silver to a dull, battered gray. Further down, the tools grew larger in size. Square-ended hammers and rusty ratchets. Giant saws with jagged teeth. In the center of the room stood a massive table made of dark wood, the distressed surface littered with tools, wood curls, and sawdust.

Instantly, she was charmed by the place. The warm tones and rustic qualities. She pulled in a deep breath, recognizing crisp scents of cedar and pine. Allie could get used to a place like this. The view alone seemed to breathe new life into her. She filled her lungs with another dose of it as she eyed the entrance to the house. Still no sign of Braden.

In hopes to gain his attention, Allie cleared her throat, striding back into the entry room once more. There, just off the side of the doorway, was a small desk. A messy stack of papers sat on top. Allie tilted her head, noticing a splash of silver hiding beneath the mass. A bell.
Perfect.

If no one came after she rang it, she’d go home and come back another time. Or maybe chicken out altogether and never come back. Just as she leaned down, lifting the corner of the rather hefty stack to reach the bell, a voice sounded from behind.

“Can I help you?” The deep tenor cut right through the pelting rain, striking old memories in a blink.

Allie stiffened, freezing in place before slowly looking over one shoulder. Braden had always been attractive. Had a rugged quality that had made him look years older than the guys in his high school class. He’d improved since then even. She took note of each attractive detail, musing she wouldn’t change a thing: Cowboy boots – not the polished, right off the shelf kind, but a dusty pair that had seen a few long days on the field. A leather tool belt hung low on his hips, accenting his Levi’s better than any belt could. And that white T-shirt – the thing was so thin it revealed each contour of his full and muscular chest. His hair was just as it always had been: thick, black, and mussed to perfection, only now it complimented a more mature face, impossibly more attractive than he’d been years ago.

When those deep brown eyes met hers at last, a flood of emotion ripped through her, the connection familiar and distant all at once. It took her a moment to snap out of the stupor, but once she did, Allie straightened up, cleared her throat, and forced herself to speak. “Yes,” she said, “I’d like to apply for the job.”

~+~

Braden blinked, squinted his eyes, and then blinked again. He had to be seeing things. There was no way recently divorced, as in – newly single – Allie Emerson had just walked into his shop. His eyes ran up the length of her before he could stop them. She was dressed like money. Slender, yet curvy legs, accented by sheer stockings and steep heels. A blouse that revealed the delicate slope of that pretty little neck of hers. Dang, she looked good.

He covered a cough. “Say that again?”

Allie’s light brown hair caught hints of the golden light overhead, warming her face as she looked at him. Those eyes, even bluer than he remembered. Only it seemed there was a hint of sadness lingering in their depths. “The um, job,” she said. “I’d like to apply.”

He sucked in some air, realizing he’d stopped breathing altogether. He’d dreamt of Allie Emerson walking through his door a hundred times at least, and now she’d actually done it. A small voice replayed her words in the back of his head.

“Sorry,” Braden said, walking over to the desk. “The
job
?” He searched her face as he waited for a reply, a familiar longing flaring in his chest.

“Yes.”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d dreamt she would say. Braden grabbed hold of a stack of papers, began lifting the corners one by one. He’d been looking for something earlier though for the life of him he couldn’t recall what it was. “I’m not sure I know what job you’re talking about. There’s only one person who works here, and that’s me.” He stopped searching the pages, moved a hand to the back of his neck as he glanced up once more.

Her cheeks flushed a warm shade of pink. She wiped her forehead with the back of one hand. “Oh,” she said. “I thought that… hmm, it’s just that your sister said something to my mom about you looking for a secretary.”

His sister.
He should’ve guessed. “Is that right?” He puffed out his chest, locking his feet in place. “Bree’s been hounding me to hire somebody for years, but the truth is I don’t have the need.”

“So who takes phone calls and files your orders?”

Braden flattened a hand on the crumpled stack, causing the blasted bell to ring out a sorry and muffled chime. “I do.”

Her eyes shifted to his desk, lingering on the very pages he leaned on. His palm grew warm with sweat. The papers crinkled around the darned bell, making him want to throw the stupid thing out the window.

“And you don’t need any help at all?” When he paused in answering she spoke up again. “I could work part-time,” she said, “just a few hours a day. You know, help you get organized.”

Something about her assumption rubbed him wrong. Who said he wasn’t organized already? Just how much had Bree been blabbing? “Despite the belief of my nosy little sister, I’m organized just fine.” 

Allie nodded as her gaze slowly drifted back to him. Their eyes locked.

Braden gulped. 

“Okay,” she said. The look on her pretty face reminded him of what Terrance had done to her and the girls. He should probably speak up. Ask how she was doing in the least of it. Allie reached for the doorknob, readying her umbrella.

Why was he letting her go?
Wait,
he wanted to say,
don’t leave.
But the words wouldn’t come.

“Well, it was good to see you again.” A rush of cold air hit Braden’s skin as Allie pried open the door. “Bye.” She gave him a weak grin, managed a slight wave, and then closed the door behind her.

When he was left with nothing but the sound of rain overhead, Braden cupped his now aching head in one hand. “Bye, Allie.”

Of all the humiliating moments in life.
The windshield wipers squeaked noisily as they worked to clear the glass. “I am such an idiot,” Allie said, cringing at the scene in the rearview mirror. If she never saw Fox’s Custom Woodwork again it would be too soon.
Your sister told my mother
… “Ugh. What a joke.” She shook her head, disgusted at how that had gone. So different from how she imagined it might. She figured perhaps he’d be more friendly. Glad to see her even. She figured he’d ask how her and the kids were doing and maybe talk a bit about old times, but no. Nothing but ‘I’m not hiring’ and ‘I don’t need any help.’

Allie tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “I’m organized just fine,” she said in the deepest voice she could muster. Yeah. Him and his desk-f of crap. Looked real organized. A tiny little voice squeaked from somewhere within her head – saying she shouldn’t take it so personally. But she couldn’t help it. And why did he have to look so incredible? While years of motherhood and the effects of divorce had taken their physical toll on Allie, it seemed Mr. Single had only gotten more attractive with age. Her conscious mind summoned the image of that face. Masculine and beautiful all at once. The strong angles of his jaw. The chiseled shape of his perfect lips. And those eyes.

Allie groaned. “I should never have done that.” Now what was she going to do with her day? The answers came streaming in without further invitation. Laundry. House chores. Jewelry. Dinner. All the things she’d hoped to ignore for the day. At least for a while.

The heels were the first things to go as she entered the house. Allie couldn’t help but punish herself with thoughts of how much time and energy she’d put into getting ready for the
interview
as she’d called it.  What a joke. In fact, why had she believed Lilly when she mentioned Braden needed a secretary? Had she forgotten about her mother’s passion for butting in? She resisted the urge to call and chew her out right then. No need to relive the nightmare once more.

Her skirt was the next thing to go. And then the blouse. After leaving the items in the center of her bedroom floor, Allie strode into the closet, keeping her eyes off the vacant hole where Terrance’s clothes used to hang. And though she’d been bothered by the absence of his things for over a year now, reminded of the ugliness of divorce every time she stepped foot in there, something within her snapped.

Her clothes were crammed into the far side of the closet. Each article nudged up against the next, not daring to venture on
his side
.  Well… no more. Allie picked a spot in the center of neatly lined tops, stuck her arm in between the items, and pushed half of them clear over to his side. The hangers squeaked and clanked as she proceeded to rearrange the clothes, working to space them out so they filled the row entirely. It took several minutes, but at last she’d eliminated the black hole that glared at her each time she walked in.

With a satisfied breath, she stepped back to eye her work, feeling that – if she didn’t accomplish one other thing that day – she’d done enough. Something about using Terrance’s space spoke volumes, and she wondered why she hadn’t done it before. Allie considered that. What other areas of her life remained empty because of him? Because of what he’d done?

A spark of something warm and exciting burned in her chest as an idea came to mind. Quickly, Allie snagged her trusty notepad from the nightstand and plopped onto her bed. She set her daily to-do list aside, skimmed over her Things-that-might-help-Paige list, and did the same with the one she’d made for Jillian. At last a fresh, unspotted paper lay before her.

After scribbling on the corner to warm up her pen, Allie wrote
Voids to Fill.
Below that she scribbled in the first thing that came to mind.
Bathroom Counter,
adding the words
his side
in parenthesis.
Pantry,
she wrote next,
top shelf where his protein bars and powders used to be.
Another item came to mind, and then another, the empty spaces in her life making themselves known in a steady stream. Once there were only a few blank lines left, Allie thought of a void she hadn’t acknowledged yet – a vacancy much deeper than anything on her list.

She brought the tip of her pen to the lined, yellow page, contemplating for a bit, and then forced her fingers to move. In her most lovely cursive, she added a single word to the bottom of the page:
Heart
.

The truth was, there’d been a void in her heart for a very long time. Before Terrance had even left. Before her brother, Alex, died. Marriage to a selfish man had been difficult. The years making her yearn for something Terrance could never really give. But in that moment Allie was determined to fill that particular void. To see just what it was like to love someone who knew how to love her in return. She wouldn’t cross this item off the list any time soon, but having it there would remind her that she deserved to be loved. That she needed to move on.

The word came back into focus, and Allie shook off the haze that had fallen over her. For a bit of encouragement, she wrote the word
closet
at the top of the list, relishing in the way it felt to cross it off. She gave the page a glance over before settling on her next project: The gaping hole in the garage-shelving unit where Terrance’s tools used to be. Hmm, the office had been crammed with useless junk for years. Stuff Terrance had refused to get rid of. At very least she could move all of it to the garage, clear out the office, and create a nice craft room for herself. Eventually she’d take the stuff to his mother’s or donate it to charity; she’d give him the choice. The sheer thought filled her with a sense of empowerment. 

Dressed in a pair of old sweats, hair pulled back in a high bun, Allie headed for the kitchen. She pumped up her favorite music, threw in a frozen pizza, and got to work while it cooked. She could hardly drag the stuff out of the spare bedroom fast enough. Cardboard boxes and plastic containers. Odd pieces of furniture and old school books. She’d remembered there was a small desk beneath it all, but only once Allie had cleared the junk away did she realize just how nice the desk was. A few drawers to hold her wire and tools. A solid top to work on – no more cluttering up the kitchen counter. All it needed was a little paint.

As she stacked the last box into place, Allie felt a rush of satisfaction. Not only had she eliminated the black hole in the garage, she’d cleaned out the office as well. Now to check on business, see if her latest marketing efforts were paying off. With Mother’s Day just a few months away, she chose to feature customized birthstones, photo-holding lockets, and personalized charmed bracelets.

The laptop glowed to life as Allie bit into a hot slice of pizza. Her heart raced as she watched her inbox come alive with half-a-dozen emails. A few clicks later she realized five of the six were jewelry orders. Four of those were new clients. Allie let out a holler before belting the words to the music blaring from her speakers. Thank heavens she’d stocked up on supplies back when she’d had the money. Cases of crystals and stones, quality chains, and countless charms awaited her. Aside from small things like clamps and clasps, Allie wouldn’t need to purchase much to fill the orders coming in. Perhaps sometime she would earn as much as she’d earned at the Diamond House – minus commission, of course, but they’d still be able to get by. Who needed Braden Fox and his crummy, nonexistent secretarial position? Not her. She’d be busy making special-ordered jewelry at her newly discovered desk. Eating frozen pizza, she added inwardly, taking another bite.

A chime burst through her music, the muted sound fading into the song. Allie tilted her head, wondering if somebody had just rung the doorbell. Probably not. She wasn’t expecting anybody. But then a series of knocks pounded against the front door. Crap. She grabbed a napkin on her way to the front room, wiping her mouth as she chewed. After gripping the handle, she swallowed one last time and pulled open the door.

Allie hadn’t stopped to think about what – or who – might be on the other side of that door. But one thing was certain: she had not guessed it would ever be who stood before her then. Tall, muscular, and impossibly more handsome than he’d looked hours ago, Braden Fox stood in her doorway. A steady sheet of rain fell behind him as he moved a hand over his roughly shaven jaw. His eyes, that rich shade of brown, guarded mysteries Allie realized she’d never unravel.

“Hi,” he finally said. Small droplets of water scattered to the ground as he ran fingers through his dark, wavy hair.

Allie nodded wordlessly, the rugged sound of his voice doing something to her insides. Or maybe it was the steady hold of his gaze. Braden’s eyes hadn’t shifted from hers, not for a blink. A whirl of emotion danced in the space between them, an energy that made her limbs go lax. It was that old, familiar pull coming to life once more. A chemistry that she could never quite explain.

He stepped forward, studying her as he did.

A burst of heat fanned her face from the inside out. Was it possible the connection between them had been as real as she remembered? And that it hadn’t died over the years? Because in that moment, she felt more drawn to him than ever.

“Can I come in?” he asked, breaking her train of thought.

“Uh. Sure.” Allie took a step back, motioning for him to enter. She needed to grip hold of herself.

She straightened her shoulders and pulled in a deep breath. Braden grazed her arm with his, infusing that breath with the scent of fresh cut wood and aftershave.
Mmm.

“This is a nice place,” he said, his voice coming from somewhere behind her now. Allie looked down to see she’d been standing in the open doorway, welcoming a cool draft that swept in with the breeze. She spun around to see Braden walking further into the house, glancing about the place.

“Thanks. My dad gifted all us kids some property to build on when we were ready. Terrance let me take over the payments and keep it as my own in exchange for alimony and a pardon on child support.” Allie didn’t realize she’d been rambling until she noticed Braden hunched close to the ground, gliding a gentle hand over Phoebe’s head.

“I thought cats weren’t supposed to be friendly,” he said. The cat roared into a steady purr and flopped onto her side, extending her white, puffy paws to their full reach.

“You’ve done it now,” Allie said. “There’s a one minute rule where Phoebe’s concerned.”

Braden spared for a quick glance at her while he pet the cat’s side. “Phoebe, huh? What’s the rule?”

“Well, if she drops at your feet like that and you walk away after just a stroke or two, she’ll snub you for three days straight. But if you pet her for at least one full minute, you can walk away from her on good terms.”

Braden looked down at the animal affectionately as he continued to run fingers over her fur.  “Well, Phoebe, guess you’re stuck with me for another thirty seconds or so, you fickle thing.” He chuckled. “That’s quite a purr you’ve got there,” he mumbled.

Allie stepped closer, enjoying the kind way he spoke to her. It was a new side to him.

“I’m not used to cats being so social,” Braden said. “Bree used to have a cat. Miserable thing hated me and everyone else, including Bree.” He shook his head. “But boy did she love that thing anyway.”

“Yeah. We got lucky with this one. Just uh, watch out for that fur. Stuff really sticks to you.” She hid a grin as Braden shook a thick chunk of fur from his hand.

He lifted a brow as he rose to his feet. “Thanks for the warning.”

The two broke into laughter.

“Think that ought to keep me in her good graces.”

“Yes,” Allie agreed. “Here, you can come wash up in here. You’ll have to forgive the mess. I’m rearranging things in here.”

Braden chuckled. “Least you can see your countertop.” He nodded to the brightly lit kitchen as he rolled up his sleeves. “As far as bachelors go, I keep a pretty clean house. It’s that darned countertop that seems to be my weak spot.”

Allie’s eyes veered to the pan of pizza resting there.
No
, she told herself.
Do not invite him to eat with you.
Their earlier exchange had proven a total embarrassment for her; she wasn’t about to dish up more of the same.

She remained quiet as he rinsed his large, muscled hands at the sink, wondering what it would feel like to link her small fingers through his. A new song started in the background, a soft and tender number. Braden didn’t pay any mind, simply grabbed a dishtowel and began drying off. Once done, he spun a slow circle, inspecting the home. Allie was inspecting something herself. Or
di
ssecting was more like it. Why on earth did she feel so entirely unnerved? It was as if she was some young teenager again. In addition to being enamored beyond reason, she was bathing in insecurities and self-doubt. When would Braden say why he’d come? Did he expect
her
to say something?

At once it became too much, and Allie found herself blurting before she could stop the words, “I just pulled a pizza out of the oven.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her.

“You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.” 

Braden gave her a lazy nod, began walking slowly over the hardwood floors toward the counter. “Okay,” he said. “If you’re sure there’s enough.”

“Well, I usually down these things by myself, but I’ll go easy on it today.” The awkward nature of their exchange made her worry that he’d missed the sarcasm in her tone.

He didn’t reply, only continued to look around as if he were taking inventory. “Don’t you believe in blinds?” he asked.

Allie’s gaze shifted to the window. “I never saw any reason for them. We don’t have close neighbors, and I love seeing the ranch. Letting that light in, you know?” Braden’s view, as she remembered, wasn’t so different from her own. Both had property that bordered her father’s ranching acres, just from opposing sides.

“Don’t you have teenage girls?” he asked, a furrow owning his handsome brow.

Allie shrugged. “Yes.”

“House full of females, not a man in sight and you have your windows wide open for all eyes to see.” His tone was thick with irritation.