Page 26 of Never Pucking Ending

“Give me his number,” I tell her calmly. “I’ll talk to him about my plans, and we’ll get a coffee or something.”

Mom looks way too excited about this prospect, and I hope I don’t ruin whatever shred of hope she has that I’m not going to wind up sad and alone at sixty.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I grumble.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” But there’s a giant smile on her face that contradicts her without words needing to be said at all.

I really hope I don’t regret this.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Belle

Much to my dismay, Dane Lautner definitely grew into his ears. And his feet. And his lanky body. My college bestie, Avery, would have described him as H-A-W-T hot, not the normal kind. But I refuse to tell my mother that I find the thirty-four-year-old attractive, or I’d be getting bridal samples by the end of the week.

When he comes to the store, he barely resembles the little boy in the back of my mind. The big brown eyes are the same, but his hair isn’t nearly as bleach blond as it used to be when we played in the sun as kids, and his features are…matured.

“It’s good to see you again,” Dane greets, holding his hand out toward me with a big, white smile on his face. He’s in a pair of jeans that look well-worn and a black Carhartt sweatshirt that looks equally as loved. He looks blue collar. Normal. Not like the guys I’m used to seeing who are in designer suits on game days or uniforms soaked in sweat on ice rinks.

He gives me a quick once-over with those charming eyes as we shake hands, and I’m suddenly glad I put on a pair of jeans that make my butt look rounder and a shirt with a neckline that makes my boobs look a little bigger. “You look great Belle. Wow.”

The compliment makes my cheeks heat, but hopefully I hide the color. “You do too. You’re much taller than I remember.”

What a dumb thing to say. Of course he’s taller than I remember. When was the last time we saw one another? When we were eight? Nine? We didn’t go to the same school. Dane’s family sent him to the catholic academy in town, so the only times we hung out were when our moms did.

Dane lowers his hand with a chuckle. “I didn’t hit my growth spurt until I was sixteen. Everybody towered over me before that point.”

He’s got to be over six-three—taller than Jesse. “Not anymore,” I murmur, noting how much he looms over me. It’s not in a threatening or uncomfortable way. Just…noticeable.

Mom does know I like tall men.

Damn her.

“I guess it’s good our moms stayed in touch this whole time, huh?” he tells me, that smile not wavering once. “Nora has been talking you up since you opened Belle’s Place. I think it’s awesome you’ve done so well.”

I’ve never been great at accepting compliments. “You’re one to talk. You own a contracting business. That’s no easy feat.”

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t want to do anything else. Before I finally found my calling, I worked different jobs, but I was miserable. Nothing beats this.”

I understand completely. Being my own boss makes me realize how miserable I’d be if I had to work a regular nine to five gig again. “Come on in. I’ll show you the space and tell you some of my ideas. If it’s something you’d be down to work with me on, then we can go over some blueprints when the time comes.”

It doesn’t take long to give him the tour considering the space is open, save the bathrooms toward the back. I try pointing out where I think the bookshelves can go, where I’d like a small sitting lounge to be, and maybe some tables if the café portion of the business can sell more than pastries. I haven’t gotten that far ahead yet.

Dane is patient, nodding along and only asking me follow up questions to get a better idea of what styles I like. He doesn’t interrupt or rush me and seems more than happy to be here even though I’m sure he has a life and friends. Or maybe he doesn’t, which is why his mother and mine have been scheming behind our backs.

The only thing I have to offer him besides a basic design of what I want the store to be is a cup of coffee I brewed from the coffee machine I plugged into the back. It cost me a stupid amount of money, but I figured it would come in use when I have this place opened. At least, that’s what I told myself when I bought it to justify the hefty sticker price.

“This is an easy job,” Dane tells me, leaning his hip against the counter in the kitchen. “At least compared to my last one. We worked on a housing development near DC and were contracted for five townhouses.”

Sounds like a lot of work. “Were they at least all the same layout inside?”

He sighs. “I wish. The owner of the development wanted each of the insides to be different architectural styles to stand out from other neighborhoods despite the exterior being identical. He thought differing interiors would make them more desirable. That wouldn’t have been an issue if he didn’t change his mind halfway through our job and make us start over when he decided the vision wasn’t being met.”

I cringe. That sounds like an expensive fix. “I don’t suppose he covers the materials that you used already?”

He shakes his head. “The bastard had it written into his contract that we’d cover any materials if they weren’t satisfied with the project during the halfway check-in point, which tells me this isn’t the first time he’s pulled a stunt like that. The only saving grace is that we countered for a set amount so we weren’t eating too much of the cost, especially because of how extensive the materials list was for those homes.”

I bet. Virginia has been expanding for years for the commuters that work in the capital. After college, I tried finding a place down south and couldn’t find anything affordable because of how populated the area was getting. It drove the market up and made developments move into areas up to three hours away from the capital that charged an arm, leg, and first-born child for them.