Page 3 of Cassie
Hands fisting, she dug deliberately blunted nails deep into her palms.He shouldn’t be here. But, he is.The tiny bit of pain was a known quantity, expected, stabilizing her in miniscule ways.Okay, steady. Be a lion. Blank wood and paint filled her vision, undemanding and uncaring of her faux pas and social stumbling. She could talk to blank wood and paint all day long. “I meant to say, this is a surprise. You’re Mr. Rogers. Was there a problem with the purchase?”Maybe if I avoid looking at him, I’ll be okay. And maybe, just maybe, she could hold it together against this unexpected off-rhythm disturbance to what had been a carefully thought through and rehearsed script.And maybe the earth will open and swallow me to hell.
“Miss Williamson, pleased to meetcha. I hope you don’t mind me ridin’ along with the boys.” His voice and words caught at her attention, slightly disrupting the fear. The cadence was unusual, and she found his accent interesting. Nothing she’d read about him had mentioned he was from the south. However, that origin echoed plain and clear through his voice, the soft rhythm of his speech somehow soothing and calming her nerves enough that she was able to lift her gaze to his chin.
His chin, which lined up with the tidily fastened buttons of his shirt, the three nearest his neck undone, leaving the shirt to gape slightly, a sun-browned triangle visible between the edges of fabric. Smooth, flowing up to the notch of his throat, and that leading to the strong, corded column dented with a prominent Adam’s apple. Every bit of skin looked touchable in a way she’d never noticed on anyone else.
With a flinch, she halted her gaze there, instinctively knowing that to make eye contact would probably blow what little control she still held entirely out of the water. “I know I oughta apologize for just showin’ up like this, but when Barry—” He twisted as he gestured to the tallest of the men behind him, the neck of his shirt gaped wider, and she devoured the expanded view of shadowed collarbone. “—told me he was deliverin’ this piece today, I just had to come with. I hope you don’t mind. This is one of my favorites, you see, and I wanna see where it’s gonna live.” He gave a shrug that managed to be both masculine and elegant in one motion, his confidence and control demonstrated in everyday movements. “Then, when I heard from him that you had several of my paintings, I surely had to meet you.”
He stepped forwards and without thought, she took a matching step backwards, seeing muscles along his jaw tighten as she moved away to maintain what her mind screamed was the only safe distance. “May we come in? Can the boys—” He indicated the men again, that gape folding fabric differently to expose the hard plane of his chest, “—bring in the canvas?”
Cassie knew her nod was jerky, but she forced her head to move, glad when he took it as a certain invitation she couldn’t put voice to. He reached out and smoothly opened the door, holding it in place with the heel of a boot while two men carried in the long crate. As part of her preparations this morning, she had anticipated the process and had placed a small crowbar and hammer along the bottom of the wall underneath where she wanted the canvas hung.
Six years ago, the very first delivery had nearly been a disaster because the men had to go in and out of the house several times to gather tools. The sound of her front door opening and closing, opening again, closing, had scraped her nerves raw, resonating through her mind and in her nightmares long after the men were gone. Each new breach had seemed a chance for unseen dangers to enter alongside the workmen. To forestall that fiasco from happening again, for each delivery she now made certain everything needed would be close at hand.
Mr. Rogers stood just inside the arch that led to her living room. He looked at ease standing there, broad shoulders seeming to fill the space as he swept the walls with his gaze. Cassie watched as his appearance changed, brightening in a way she thought might not happen often, and she saw a wonder-filled expression break across his face.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, the drawn-out word sounding so heartfelt and raw she couldn’t help it. She smiled.
