P.S. Goodbye, page 5
“Relax. We both have pieces in the past that we’d rather erase. So let’s start fresh, shall we?” He extended his hand to her. “Hello. My name is Grant Quinn. I’m here to build your website and be coached on my life.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Grant. My name is Caroline.” She offered a quick shake before she yanked her hand back and rubbed it against her pant leg.
Man, her hand was soft. No. He couldn’t go there. After all, if she couldn’t handle a little flirting or shake his hand without wiping it off afterward, then any attraction he felt was a moot point. Then there had been that final letter she’d sent him—didn’t come more direct than that. “Do you want me to start with your website first or get right to the life coaching?”
“Website.” Caroline backed toward the door before he could blink. Even after their truce, they had a long way to go to being friends.
He nodded and sat in the chair she’d vacated. “What are you looking for in a website?”
She perched on the edge of the chair by the door. “Honestly, we don’t know. We’ve started losing money with the growth of online buying and free shipping. It’s amazing how much has changed in retail since we inherited the store three years ago. Maybe we have no business in retail. But Leah loves it, and I want to make it successful for her. But I’m not sure anything will help at this point.”
Grant leaned back in the chair, lacing his hands across his middle. “What do you think the greatest strengths of the store are?”
She stared off into space. “Convenience and personal contact.”
“What about orders people can place online but pick up in store? Or you could even deliver in person to locals during certain hours. Heritage is small enough it wouldn’t cost much in gas. And until business picks up again, you two seem to have the time to do it. That wouldn’t eat into your profits with shipping. It would also keep up the personal contact. And when people were in a hurry, it would be faster and easier than waiting for items to be shipped to them.”
Her head snapped up, and for a second he got a peek of the Caroline he once knew and admired. “I love that. Who’s life coaching who here?”
Grant focused back on the computer. “Not life coaching. Just a friend helping a friend.”
“How long will it take you?”
“It depends on the size of your inventory, but from the look I got earlier, I guess about a week or two.”
“That will be just about perfect. Then we’ll set up our first life coaching session two weeks from today.” She nodded and then picked up the questionnaire he’d left on her desk. “You need to complete this so I can prepare for the one-on-one meeting.”
Grant glanced around the room. “One-on-one? Opposed to now?”
“I mean a question and answer time, face-to-face.” The pink in her cheeks deepened.
The girl was too much fun to tease. “Face-to-face?”
“Stop that. You know what I mean.” She stood and turned toward the door and then just as quickly, spun back and pointed at him. “I’m serious. If we’re going to work together, we need boundaries. Ground rules.”
“Okay.”
She grabbed a legal pad and pen off the corner of her desk. Of course.
“Rule number one: No flirting.” She pointed the pen at him before writing something across the paper.
“No flirting. Got it.” He held up his hands.
She didn’t look up. “Rule number two: No touching.”
“No touching?” Had he been touching her? He’d definitely remember that. “Like handshakes?”
“No. Well, yes. No stopping my tapping with your hand. And absolutely no bending down to get the same pen. Or leaning over my shoulder when I’m on the computer.”
It took all his strength to keep from laughing. “Are these normal problems with your clients when you life coach?”
“Only you.” The words were low and mumbled as she looked away, but Grant caught them. So maybe she wasn’t as unaffected by him as she wanted to let on. Not that it mattered, because crossing into enemy territory in fluorescent gear would be easier than getting past her defenses. Besides, he wasn’t in the market for a relationship, and he’d bet his favorite Glock that Caroline was definitely a relationship type of girl. “Any more rules?”
“I’ll let you know.” She tore off the paper and handed it to him. “So there’s no misunderstanding.”
“What about you? Do you need a reminder to keep your hands off me?”
She stiffened as her face shifted from pink to a deep red. She leaned forward and pointed at the paper where it boldly stated no flirting.
“I’ll keep it with me always.” He took the paper and folded it over and over before sliding it into his wallet.
Maybe it’d take more effort than he thought not to flirt with the girl. But it wasn’t intentional, and usually he wasn’t a big flirt. It just felt natural with Caroline. But by her reaction, he needed to curb that natural instinct, and fast.
Caroline tapped her pencil on the questionnaire. “And please fill this out. I need it to try to help you figure out what type of job you should look for next.”
“That’s easy. A computer job.” He pulled up the software she’d been using. It was junk.
“We still need to go through the process.”
“Can’t you at least ask around and see if anyone local is needing IT help?” He clicked on a browser and typed in the site he’d use to host it.
“That isn’t really coaching now, is it? Besides, just because something comes easily to you doesn’t mean it’s your passion.” It was almost as if she were trying to see inside to figure him out. Good luck with that.
“Do you want to stay local?” She made a note on a new sheet of paper.
Did he want to stay in Heritage? There wasn’t much to the town, but he couldn’t deny he slept better here—longer every night. Even the three voicemails from his stepbrother Jason—no doubt wanting to talk about the engagement—hadn’t really set him off like he’d have thought. “I’ll stick with Heritage for now.”
“See, answering questions isn’t so hard, is it?” She set the questionnaire in front of him. “Don’t forget it this time.”
He nodded and focused back on the computer as he rubbed at his scar. He’d hadn’t actually forgotten it. He’d simply scanned the first few questions and left it behind.
He rubbed his hand against the pressure in his chest that had been squeezing his lungs from the moment she mentioned an interview. Sure, he could answer where he wanted to live right now, but what if she started asking questions he didn’t want to answer? Or worse yet—couldn’t answer?
Chapter 5
Her first attempt at life coaching was crashing and burning before her eyes. Caroline tapped at her legal pad full of questions but no answers. She and Grant had been at Donny’s diner for forty-five minutes, and Grant had yet to answer even one of her questions directly. She’d used the past two weeks to research and prepare for this meeting, not to mention to give herself some needed space. But all that preparation would be a waste if he didn’t start talking.
She’d chosen the diner to keep it more professional. Less personal. More people around. But that only seemed to distract Grant.
Grant accepted another Coke from the waitress and leaned toward Caroline, his elbows on the table. “I know you want to find out what makes me tick and locate the perfect job—or whatever—but I’ll let you off the hook. I only want a normal job. Working with computers would be a bonus.”
She wasn’t running a temp agency. Her job was life coaching, but how could she coach if he wouldn’t let her in his life? She stared at her list of questions again. “What did you like most about your last job?”
The muscle in his jaw twitched before a less than genuine smile creased his face. “I’m good with computers. Why is that a bad thing? Did an IT worker offend you in some way?”
Caroline crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m not against you working with computers. I’m not even against you taking a desk job. But I don’t think that’s what you want.”
“And yet it’s the only thing I’ve asked for.” He balled up a straw wrapper tighter and tighter.
“Fine, let’s make a deal. I have a lead on an IT job that might work for you—for now. But you have to give me something in return.”
“Such as?”
“Show me what you do to relax.” This diner wasn’t relaxing for him, and if she could get him to relax, then she could possibly get him to open up. It was a last-ditch effort, but she refused to fail on her first client. “Something I can do with you.”
“I ride my Harley.”
“I’ll never get on a motorcycle. Do you know the statistics on motorcycle fatalities?”
“I’ve never crashed. I’ll take it easy, I promise.”
Then there was the whole he’d-be-the-only-thing-she’d-have-to-hold-on-to part. “Absolutely not.”
“I go to the shooting range. But there isn’t one close by.”
Bingo.
“I know of one.” Caroline slid out of the booth, the cracks in the red vinyl clawing at her skirt as she went. “I’ll have to go get my car from the WIFI.”
“I borrowed Nate’s car today, so I’ll drive. And my gun’s already in the trunk.” Grant tossed more than enough cash on the table and then followed her out.
He paused as they reached Nate’s car parked out front. “I swear that brass thing was over by the corner.”
Caroline followed his gaze twenty feet down the sidewalk to the old brass hippo. “Oh, Otis? He can be a bit surprising to newbies.”
She slid into the passenger seat and shut the door. Nate kept a clean car, but it still had a lingering scent of fast food and cheap air freshener.
Grant got in and started the engine. “Otis?”
“Otis the Hippo. He’s been a part of Heritage for more than seventy-five years. My grandma even remembered seeing Otis as a child. Turn left at the stop sign.”
He pulled out and followed her instructions. “So guys just move him around town?”
“Nope. That thing is way heavier than it should be. Guys used to dare each other to try and lift it in high school. They’d never get it more than an inch off the ground. Once a couple of guys got it six inches off the ground but dropped it. It made an awful noise and didn’t move for almost a year. The town passed a law that you can get fined if you try and lift it now.”
“So, how did he move?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t know anyone who’ll admit to knowing. Now you know the great mystery of Heritage.”
“He shows up anywhere in town?”
“No. His movement is limited to the square block around the Manor.” Caroline tapped her window as they passed the WIFI. “Which includes our storefront, but he has never sat right in front of our store.”
Grant stopped at the stop sign and stared at the old Victorian mansion on his left. “The Manor? Fancy name for an old run-down house.”
“Don’t let Hannah hear you talk like that. She loves the Manor. Turn left.” She placed her legal pad on her lap and clicked her pen. “Why do you like to go to the shooting range?”
“It releases stress.”
“What gives you stress?”
“People asking me questions.” He flipped on the radio to a classic rock station.
Caroline turned down the volume. “Anyone besides me asking you questions? Angle right on Main Street”
His hands gripped the wheel tighter. “What’s your brother up to these days?”
“David is a missionary in Costa Rica, so we don’t see him much.” How had he shifted the conversation back to her again? “Turn right at that dirt road.”
Grant slowed the car and signaled. “You sound like you don’t approve.”
Had that come through in her tone? She focused out the side window as the car rattled with the washboard road. “I’m fine with it. Third driveway.” She pointed toward her mailbox. “I mean, I support missions, and he’s doing a great work. But it was a quick decision and not enough thought went into it if you ask me. You can park here.”
“Maybe you should’ve offered him life coaching.” Grant killed the engine and reached for the door handle.
“I tried. He wouldn’t listen.”
“A lot of us aren’t as good at spilling our guts as others. Our opening up is much more subtle.” He climbed out of the car.
Was he saying that he’d already opened up to her? He hadn’t answered one of her questions. And her brother, David, hadn’t talked to her either.
Caroline exited the car and slammed the door. “All I know is that we could’ve used him here with the store. He left us. How did your family handle you leaving for the Army?”
“Good . . . in the beginning.” Grant scanned the area. “So, where are we?”
“My house.”
Grant’s gaze flicked to her and then returned to his assessment. But this time his eyes seemed to take in more detail.
A seventy-year-old house in much need of a paint job. A yard poorly tended. The 1948 Ford truck that had rusted into the ground next to the shed. Maybe bringing him here had been a bad idea. “We have a shooting range out back.”
He stared at her as if trying to piece together something, then stepped to the trunk and pulled out a bag. “Lead the way, Annie Oakley.”
After retrieving her .22 rifle and a box of ammo, Caroline led him toward the back of the property. “When we moved here, my grandfather insisted that we learn gun safety. Leah and I were quite competitive, so he made us a little shooting range. It’s up against a hill to capture any missed shots.”
“You’re full of surprises, Caroline Williams. You run a store, life coach, shoot a gun . . . Which is your favorite? I warn you though—if you say target practice, I might drop to one knee and ask you to marry me this moment.”
Caroline stumbled over her feet. He was kidding. But still, why did the words make her brain short-wire? She cleared her throat but didn’t look at him. “Life coaching is my favorite—at least for clients who answer questions.”
Grant laughed, and they walked the rest of the way in silence. If she were smart, she’d have made a call regarding the IT position she’d found at Kensington Fruits yesterday and never had this little meeting. It was obvious that Grant didn’t want actual life coaching. He didn’t want her questions, and he did not want her opinions.
Fifteen minutes later she’d taken down the first lineup of tin cans with her .22. Now it was Grant’s turn.
Caroline leaned against her favorite birch tree while she waited for him to load his handgun. The leaves had already turned a deep gold, and her mind went back to the two leaves sitting on her desk. She didn’t know if the second was from Grant, but who else could it be from? She should just throw them away, but every time she tried, something stopped her. She could not—would not—let herself be emotionally wrapped up again with Grant.
Grant adjusted his grip on his gun. He was still as a statue for a moment, then squeezed the trigger. Again. And again.
Grant’s posture grew less rigid and more comfortable with every can he took down. By the time he emptied the cartridge, slid the safety on, and returned the gun to his side, the ever-present strain behind his eyes had melted away.
That’s what Grant had been trained to do.
There had to be a use for such an amazing skill outside the military. Her mind floated to the security team run by ex-military in a novel she’d read. Did jobs like that exist in real life? Maybe that was worth looking into for Grant. After all, that seemed much more suitable for him than a desk job punching keys.
He fixed his eyes on the targets that still remained, his smile dimming slightly.
“Better than last time, but I don’t have the same control in my left hand since this.” He waved the guilty appendage and its scars with disgust. “Too bad that’s my dominant hand.”
“Is that why you left the Army?”
He stared at her and then back at the targets. “I walked away when I could no longer count on an accurate shot to protect my team. This type of shooting only means I gave the enemy time to kill me or the guy next to me. Those weren’t even moving targets.”
He said the words so casually that Caroline almost missed the tension returning to his stance.
Grant held his gun out to Caroline. “Your turn.”
“Me?” She took a step back. “I can’t shoot that.”
“Are you kidding? You hit every target a minute ago.”
“With a .22 long rifle. Not a 9mm handgun. With that kick, I’ll hit myself in the face.”
“I’ll make sure you’re safe. Trust me.”
How could she ask him to trust her if she wasn’t really willing to trust him? “Fine.”
She took the gun and lifted it. It felt so weird not to brace it against her shoulder.
Grant stepped behind her. “Keep your arms straight. Don’t lean back.”
She held up the gun and tried to aim like he instructed. His solid chest pressed into her back. “No touching.”
“I didn’t move. You leaned back, so you’re touching me. Don’t lean back.”
She took aim again, but her hands shook. His hands landed on her elbows. “Don’t bend your arms.”
“I can’t.” Her hands began to shake again.
He leaned in and wrapped his arms parallel against hers and covered each hand with his. “Now squeeze the trigger.”
Caroline struggled to keep her mind from focusing on every inch of her that was touching Grant. This was definitely breaking rule number two—and possibly one—but she couldn’t seem to find her voice to object again.
The contact seemed to energize every nerve. She’d hugged Mason enough when they dated to know it had never felt like this. It hadn’t even felt like this when he’d kissed her.
She squeezed the trigger, resisting the pull of the gun’s recoil on her arms. She shot three more rounds before Grant stepped back. She immediately missed the warmth. Stupid. Stupid. She had to keep her head in the game and her emotions out of it. She put all her focus on her targets and fired two more rounds, sending a can flying with each.
