A Regular Joe: A Regular Joe / Mr. Right Under Her Nose
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“Judging by the sound of your voice, I presume Pops isn’t enthused about the assisted living center.”
“Hardly.” Mattie bounded to her feet and paced the narrow confines of her office.
He noticed that standing or sitting in one place wasn’t Mattie’s thing. She had so much energy that she needed to be in constant motion.
“Pops is a lot like me, I’m afraid,” she confided. “He has to be doing something constantly, and inactivity has never agreed with him. Lately, he’s been giving me fits because he keeps escaping from the home at odd hours, putting the doctors and nurses into one tizzy after another, because his ability to escape reflects on their reputations. They don’t like to keep losing him, and he delights in sneaking off.”
Joe chuckled in amusement. Pops reminded him of his own grandfather. One year ago, J. D. Grayson announced he was leaving the company to take life easy. Since then, J.D. had taken an Alaskan and Caribbean cruise, offered his supervisory services for two Habitat for Humanity projects, and volunteered as director of activities for the nearby senior citizen center.
“Mattie!”
Mattie gestured for Joe to follow her. “You might as well take a tour of the work area while I wrap it up with Alice Dawson. Part of your job involves handling tools for special projects.”
Curious, Joe followed in Mattie’s wake, his gaze still magnetically drawn to the hypnotic sway of shapely hips wrapped in denim that molded to her fanny like gloves. Damn, there was such an intriguing aura about this woman, he marveled. An hour ago, he’d felt tense and frustrated. Then, poof! It was as if he’d been transported into another dimension in time with this delightful pixie as his tour guide.
Joe skidded to a halt the instant he entered the workroom. His eyes popped as he panned the area that reminded him so much of the workshop where he and J.D. had designed crafts almost two decades earlier. It was where Joe had spent his spare time, working with his hands, dealing with the frustration of his parents’ abandonment, then the loss of his grandmother. Together he and J.D. had poured their grief and disappointment into creative projects that somehow turned into an enormously lucrative business.
“Does all this equipment belong to you?” Joe croaked. It had to, because he knew perfectly well that the work space at Hobby Hut Enterprises did not come equipped with state-of-the-art power tools like these!
Mattie glanced up from her consultation with Alice Dawson, then nodded. “Most of the tools are mine. Some of them were donated by my grandfather. He used to help me until his arthritis hampered him.”
Amazed, Joe surveyed the various and sundry of saws, drills, sanders and clamps that Mattie had at her disposal. A woman who shared his love of working with his hands? A woman who felt as at home in a workshop as he did? This woman was every woodcrafter’s dream come true. Joe couldn’t believe his luck. Working here would be the therapy he needed.
An amused smile pursed Mattie’s lips as she watched him inspect one tool after another. “You look surprised, Joe. But then, it’s not the first time I’ve gotten that reaction from men. Although I have a degree in art, my minor is woodcrafting and carpentry.”
“I really do get to play with your tools?” he asked, delighted.
She nodded, causing her shiny raven ponytail to shimmer in the florescent light. “Although Hobby Hut sells generic wood furniture and crafts, I customize and personalize projects for customers. Like this project, for instance.”
When Mattie motioned him forward, Joe strode over to study the framed original painting and shelves she had designed for Alice Dawson. His jaw dropped to his chest as he studied the artwork that featured what he presumed to be the old Dawson homestead, done in earth-tone colors. The shelves that were to be placed on either side of the painting—made of barn wood that probably came from the Dawson barn—boasted country antiques, small decorative frames, and portraits of Alice’s children and grandchildren.
“Doesn’t Mattie do fabulous work?” Alice said, smiling proudly at the display. “She came out to my place to gather up odds and ends so they could be included on the shelves. When I saw Josie Foreman’s homestead painting and antique display last month at our home extension club meeting, I knew I had to have one of my own.”
“Impressive,” Joe complimented.
“Now that you’re employed here, Joe, I can run over to Alice’s place during my lunch hour to hang the painting and shelves without worrying about being back a minute too late.” Mattie glanced at him hopefully. “You are willing to start work immediately, aren’t you?”
He grinned. “No problem, boss.”
Alice clapped her hands together in delight. “You can decorate my wall this afternoon? Wonderful!”
When Alice scuttled away, beaming like a fog light, Mattie chuckled. “I hope you’re getting the impression that working at Hobby Hut isn’t just a job for me. Making customers happy, rather than tallying dollars and cents, is the name of my game.”
Yes, he could see that. Mattie Roland was the epitome of Joe’s, and his grandfather’s, vision for their company. She kept what had become commercialized on a personal level by making specialized projects for her customers.
A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through Joe’s body. Oh yes, this hiatus in Fox Hollow was exactly what the doctor ordered. This was the cure for the affliction of frustration and indifference that had been tormenting Joe—or rather, Daniel Joseph Grayson, CEO. For that, and a few less than honorable masculine-oriented reasons, Joe wanted to hug the stuffing out of this little carpenter’s elf. A month in Mattie’s company and Joe was reasonably certain that he’d recapture his lost enthusiasm.
The chime above the front door heralded the arrival of another customer. Mattie smiled up at him, displaying the cute dimple in her left cheek. “You wanna handle that? I need to measure and mark another project this morning. If you want, you can make the cuts, since you look as if you’re eager to get your mitts on my power tools.”
“My pleasure,” he said, then wheeled around and strode toward the front of the store, a renewed spring in his steps.
Mattie watched her new employee depart, her gaze magnetically drawn to his six-foot-one-inch, powerfully built physique. Her artist’s eye approved of the looks of her employee. Joe Gray was definitely the answer to a prayer, and she couldn’t believe her good fortune. She had received the directive from corporate headquarters, indicating that she could hire a full-time staff member. And wham! Joe Gray showed up out of the blue.
It was almost as if fate had dealt her a winning hand. She needed someone responsible to mind the store so she could devote time to special projects requested by customers. She also needed someone to rent the efficiency apartment so she’d have extra money to pay her grandfather’s expenses at the convalescent home.
Man, oh man, what a perfect day this was turning out to be! Mattie had happened onto an employee who shared her love of art and woodcraft, someone eager to tackle the hands-on projects, someone who saw this business as more than a job that paid rent and put food on the table, someone whose appealing, dynamic presence put a quick charge on her own feminine battery…
Mattie’s thoughts skidded to an abrupt halt. Good heavens, what was she thinking? Joe Gray, as attractive and appealing to the eye as he was, was off-limits. She was his employer and she couldn’t, wouldn’t, jeopardize their working relationship. Although Joe was the first man to come along since her college years to inspire arousing feelings, she couldn’t possibly allow herself to form an interest in him. That would be unethical. Probably even went against company policy, if she sat herself down to read the fine print in her managerial contract.
No, the head honcho, who sat on his duff on his velvet throne at corporate headquarters, would undoubtedly frown on a personal relationship developing between his store manager and an employee. Mr. Higher than the Almighty head honcho would not approve of her feminine admiration for Joe Gray.
“Strictly business, and you better not forget that,” Mattie told herself as she grabbed the tape measure to mark the lumber. It didn’t matter that she was mesmerized by Joe’s whiskey-colored eyes and dark hair, that his good looks and masculine scent inspired basal reactions. She was his boss, and he was her hired assistant and never the twain shall meet, as the saying went. Who ever made up that saying, anyway? Well, she had to strive for a pleasant but ethical working situation, a mutual love for hobbies and crafts. Anything else was out of the question.
Too bad, really, she mused as she designed the new curio shelf. She was thirty years old, and her biological clock was ticking. She wanted a family, wanted children who would not be raised and abandoned the way she had been. If not for her beloved grandfather, there was no telling what would have become of Mattie. Bernard Roland had taken her in, shared what little worldly possessions he had with her, put a roof over her head, placed food on the table, and instilled his love for creating with his hands. True, he had inadvertently turned her into a hopeless tomboy who would rather wield saws, drills and create unique woodcrafts than power shop. Yet, she was content with her life. Well, except for the fact that managing the store, teaching a class in art during the winter at the local vo-tech, and working on special projects prevented her from having time to enjoy any kind of social life whatsoever.
“Stop whining, Roland,” Mattie muttered as she laid out the one-by-six board for Joe to cut. “And don’t get any ridiculous ideas where Joe is concerned. You can’t be anything but friends.”
2
WHAT A DAY HE’D HAD! Joe thought as he ambled down the street toward his rattletrap truck. He’d manned saws, routers and drills to his heart’s content, then waited on customers and familiarized himself with the layout of the store. He had thoroughly enjoyed himself, and the hours had whizzed by at amazing speed.
Joe also gave Mattie Roland high marks for her rapport with customers. Everybody in Fox Hollow adored her. He’d heard her praises sung by every woman who entered the store.
Joe grinned, remembering how he’d been given the third degree by female customers he’d waited on. Everyone wanted to know where he was from, when he’d hired on and where he was staying. He was invited to a church supper and community bazaar by several customers. Typical small-town activities that he wouldn’t mind attending if time allowed.
He had artfully dodged a few personal questions by offering half-truths so he wouldn’t blow his cover. As far as anyone in town knew, he was just a regular Joe who liked the looks of this town, and the surrounding area, and decided to make a life for himself here.
Joe applied the brakes and slowed down so Mattie could pull out in front of him and lead the way to her house. He hadn’t quite figured out what had happened between them after he exited the workroom to wait on his first customer this morning. Mattie, friendly and outgoing though she had been when he arrived, had become standoffish and reserved around him. What the hell had happened? They’d hit it off big time. Then suddenly, she was careful not to invade his personal space, nor he hers.
While she was giving directions for cutting and constructing the customized knickknack shelf, she had maintained a noticeable distance from him. He hadn’t wanted distance. He’d wanted to work shoulder to shoulder with her during the lull in customer traffic at the store. Instead, Mattie gave him directions for the project, then ambled off to work on another customized design.
For a man who’d never had a problem attracting females, he was beginning to think his theory that money and corporate power lured the opposite sex to him was on the mark. Maybe he wasn’t all that personable, he mused pensively.
Doubts clouded his thoughts as he followed Mattie through a residential section to a small acreage located in a grove of blackjack trees. His thoughts scattered when he turned into the driveway of a small but well-manicured gingerbread-style home. His gaze swung to the detached two-car garage that had been converted into an efficiency apartment. Joe, who had been living in a five-thousand-square-foot brick home in the city’s suburbs, figured he was in for another culture shock.
Climbing from his truck, he ambled alongside Mattie, noting that she refused to encroach on the minimum requirement of three feet of personal space surrounding him. Damn, what was there about him that repelled her?
“I don’t know what you’re accustomed to, Joe, but this garage apartment is cramped quarters,” she said as she pulled a set of keys from the purse that was slung over her shoulder. “The rent is reasonable and the utility bills minimal.”
She opened the door, and Joe immediately fell in love with the place. The open area was paneled in glossy pine. Bay windows provided a spectacular view of trees that skirted the creek. A large mural on the west wall created an optical illusion that the inhabitant of this cracker-box apartment could wander through the tall pines and scale the mountains that lay in the background.
“Did you paint this mural?” he asked, incredulous.
Mattie nodded. “It was Pops who framed the art to give it the three-dimensional effect. It keeps the apartment from crowding in on you.”
“You are an exceptionally talented artist, Mattie,” he complimented as he strode across the carpet to closely examine the detailed artwork. “With the right backing and promotion you could go places in the art world.”
“I’m not interested in national recognition,” she informed him as she came to stand beside him, maintaining a respectable distance. “I paint for the love of it, not the money. I reside here in Fox Hollow because it’s my hometown and because I feel a fierce loyalty to my grandfather who raised me.”
“What happened to your parents?” he asked curiously.
Mattie’s smile became reflective, rueful. “I’m sorry to report that I’m the biological product of parents who were too young to want a kid toddling along, cramping their lifestyle. My parents never married. My father wanted to shake the dust of this small town off his heels and see the world. My mother dumped me on my grandparents’ doorstep when I was four and took off for parts unknown. I lost my grandmother three years later and the people in this community have become extended family to Pops and me.”
Joe nodded in understanding. “Parents can be the pits sometimes, can’t they? I was twelve when my dad took off to find himself. Hell, I never even realized he was lost! My mother is still looking for Mr. Right. At last count, none of her three ex-husbands fit the bill. It was my grandfather and grandmother who raised me, too. Gramps was determined that I didn’t turn out to be the huge disappointment my dad was to him.”
“I can tell you one thing for certain, Joe. If I ever have a family, my kids are going to be top priority, and they won’t be given a bunch of empty promises,” she said with firm conviction.
“Same goes for me. I didn’t enjoy feeling like unwanted baggage.”
“Ditto.”
“So, do you want to have kids together?” Joe popped off.
Mattie stepped back a pace and gaped at him. “I beg your pardon?”
When she shifted uncomfortably, Joe cursed under his breath. That was a dumb thing for him to say. They’d bonded on some level, and he’d blown it with his playful question. “Sorry, I was only trying to lighten up our serious conversation. I really enjoy working for you, and with you, Mattie. I don’t want to do anything to spoil our friendship. Which compels me to ask if I already did something to offend you this morning. I couldn’t help but notice that your attitude toward me changed.”
Mattie inwardly winced. Had she been so obvious, so transparent after having that heart-to-heart talk with herself this morning? Apparently so. Well, she supposed now was the time to get things out in the open, explain the ground rules, just so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings between them. She was an open, forthright person, after all.
“The truth is that I like you, Joe,” she admitted, keeping her gaze fixed on the gigantic mural.
“I hear a but coming,” he murmured.
She nodded and managed the semblance of a smile. “The head honcho at corporate headquarters has a policy about relationships between managers and personnel. I know for a fact, because I dragged out my contract this afternoon and looked at the fine print. But even if Double H didn’t frown on fraternizing with hired assistants, I have my own ethics. As much as we have in common, personally and professionally, we can have only a business relationship—”
“And nothing more, no matter what the potential,” he finished for her. “I’m getting the picture, boss lady. Is there a significant other in your life as well?”
Mattie couldn’t help herself; she burst out laughing.
Joe frowned, bemused. “That wasn’t such an absurd question. One look in the mirror is all the assurance you need that you’re attractive. And hell, isn’t it every he-man’s dream to happen onto a woman who shares his love for power tools?”
“Is it?” she asked. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tapped into the male psyche. But experience has taught me that some men don’t like their male territory encroached upon by a woman. It’s not feminine, or some silly nonsense. In addition, I’ve never had time for a social life, aside from community activities and projects. Up until two months ago I’d been caring for my grandfather and managing a store that brings in more business than I can keep up with. I put myself through college, commuting so Pops wouldn’t have to be alone. Until God decides to add a few more hours to the day, I don’t have time for more than professional and personal obligations.
“Which reminds me,” she said, glancing at her watch, “I need to stop by the nursing home to check on Pops. He’s a bit of a renegade. According to the staff, he’s always stirring up trouble. Last month he and his gang of cantankerous senior citizens escaped before bed check. He sneaked over to our storage shed to confiscate fishing poles. To this day I don’t know how those old rascals managed to get hold of the six-pack they were nursing while fishing at our creek.”
Joe chuckled at the verbal picture she painted. Pops sounded like quite a character. J. D. Grayson would undoubtedly approve of Pops’s shenanigans. J.D., after all, was a bit of a rascal himself.
“It wasn’t funny,” Mattie insisted, though she couldn’t contain her grin. “The nursing staff was put out with Pops because booze doesn’t mix with his medication. The staff warned him that he could have gotten dizzy, had a seizure and fallen into the water. His doctor threatened to put him in solitary confinement if he didn’t behave himself.”
Mattie pivoted, directing Joe’s attention to the features of the small apartment. “Let me give you the quick tour before I go. The kitchen area is small but efficient,” she said, gesturing toward the cabinets and appliances on the north wall. “The Hide-A-Bed sofa has a queen-size inner spring mattress for your sleeping comfort. The bathroom is on the back side of the closet. This place is yours if you’re interested, Joe.”
“I’ll take it,” he said without hesitation, even though the square footage of the apartment would fit easily into his living area in the city.
“The riding lawn mower is in my personal workshop behind the house. You’re welcome to use it,” she offered.
“I’ll mow your lawn as part of our deal. That’ll free up some of your time.”
Mattie stopped short and gazed up at him. He fell into the depths of her violet eyes—and not for the first time, either. Damn, this woman had a fierce, intense effect on him. Too bad there were restrictions placed on their potential relationship. Also, too bad the head honcho had placed restrictions between managers and assistants. Joe would like to strangle himself for that.
“That is really nice of you,” she murmured. “I accept your offer.”
When she turned and walked away, his gaze followed her out the door. Joe glanced around his diminutive apartment, which Mattie had given such a homey, welcoming appearance. This apartment had her personality, her personal touch. It was going to be hell on him, feeling her presence, observing her rules. Damn, he wished the head honcho’s policy didn’t exist. Of course, he had himself to thank for those blasted rules. What irony, thought Joe.
Muttering at himself, and at the complexity of this situation he had created, he ambled outside to grab his suitcase from the truck.
Look, appreciate, but don’t get close enough to touch, he mused sourly. Okay, he could deal with a limited relationship with Mattie, he tried to reassure himself. After all, he’d only be here a month, and the prospect of explaining that he wasn’t exactly who he pretended to be would be horribly awkward.
Better that Mattie never knew her hireling was really her corporate boss. She claimed to like Joe dandy-fine now, but he predicted she would despise him if she knew he hadn’t been totally honest with her.
No, he would simply play out the role he had designed to recapture his enthusiasm for this business, then he would put what he learned in Fox Hollow to good use. End of story.
Great idea, Joe, he thought to himself. So how do you plan to cool your heels when this pixie is so damn appealing to you, huh?
Joe decided he’d figure that out on his way to the grocery store to stock the empty fridge and kitchen cabinets.
MATTIE SIGHED AUDIBLY when she entered Paradise Valley to see one of the staff wagging an acrylic-tipped forefinger in her grandfather’s scowling face. More problems, Mattie predicted. What kind of trouble had Pops gotten into now?
Mattie braced herself when Nurse Gamble pelted forward, wearing an annoyed frown.
“Now what?” Mattie asked warily.
Gertie Gamble knotted her fists on her ample hips and harrumphed loudly. “Now that old rascal has incited a riot against the cafeteria staff. I swear he enjoys being labeled a troublemaker.”
“Hi, Shortcake!” Pops called cheerfully. “Glad you could stop by. Don’t pay any attention to Admiral Gamble. It’s her job to keep this place shipshape.”
Gertie flung Pops a withering glance, then focused on Mattie. “See what I mean? Now he’s got most of the bedpan crowd referring to me as ‘The Admiral.’ Deal with him, Mattie. I’ve had enough of him for the week.” She spun around, then turned back to Mattie. “By the way, I saw that original painting and decorative shelving you designed for Arthella Lambert. It’s so gorgeous. Could you do something for me in greens and maroon that will enhance the colors in my living room furniture?”
“Sure, Gertie, stop by the store when you have time and we’ll work out the details.”
“Thanks.” Gertie’s smile faded as she hitched her thumb toward Pops. “It’s time for your weekly talk about behavioral modification. Your grandpa’s memory only lasts seven days—tops.”
Mattie trailed after Pops, who had turned toward his room, propelled along with the aid of his three-pronged cane that lent additional support for his arthritic knees.
“The bad boy of Paradise Valley strikes again, so I hear,” Mattie commented. “What prompted this most recent rebellion, Pops?”
Pops half turned, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “So now you know what I went through during your teenage years, Shortcake. How do you like reversing roles?”
It was impossible for Mattie to remain irritated with her feisty grandfather. He was right, of course. She had given him a few gray hairs while she struggled through adolescence to reach adulthood.
“So this is payback time, is it?” she asked as she looped her arm around his waist, then gave him a fond peck on the cheek.
“Don’t be doing that around here,” Pops grumbled. “You’ll give all these broads who have the hots for me ideas, don’t ya know. Good thing I carry a cane so I can fight off the feminine attention I’ve been getting.”