Too Enchanting, Page 3

  “What?” I asked.

  “Don’t encourage him,” she said with a sigh. “He’s the worst kind of player.”

  “No,” I argued. “I don’t think that’s true. I like him, he’s a good guy.”

  This time, Jasmine growled.

  “I’ll make you a deal. You don’t talk to me about Shane, and I’ll lay off about Jed.”

  “Deal.”

  Chapter Six

  Jed

  I was exhausted.

  Working twelve hours on a construction site would do that to you.

  It had been a long week. With working all day, then coming home and heading to my workshop to finish up my projects, I hadn’t had a lot of time to do more than eat and catch a few hours of sleep.

  Luckily, it was Sunday, and although the thought of staying in bed and actually getting eight hours for once had merit, I had some stuff to do before I opened my house to potential clients.

  A couple months ago, once I had the inventory, and the confidence, I’d begun opening my doors on the last Sunday of the month for people to come shop.

  I’d advertised in the paper, on social media, and, of course, by word of mouth. The first Sunday had a better turnout than I’d expected, because I hadn’t expected anyone … the second was even better than the first.

  I was excited, nervous, and a little uneasy about the third.

  Selling my own creations was much different than working construction on someone else’s vision. I put a lot of thought, effort, and time into the pieces I made, and I wanted to make sure they went to people who would love and appreciate them as much as I did.

  Did that make me a little crazy? A little neurotic? Probably, but I was okay with that.

  I showered, put on my work pants and a T-shirt, then ate a quick bowl of oatmeal and threw back some coffee. I made another cup to go and took it with me outside. As I passed through my yard, I glanced over at Serena’s house, which was still dark.

  It had been over a week since we’d gone to the bar with Reardon, and I’d only seen her in passing. So far, there hadn’t been any more issues, or evidence of rudeness and superiority, so I was thinking I was right in the assumption she’d just been having a bad day. Which was good, since I was sure we’d be thrown together often.

  After I unlocked my studio and turned on the lights and the music, I got down to the business of putting the finishing touches on my projects, then cleaning up the space as best as I could. Once nine in the morning was about to hit, I lowered my music and opened the gate to allow people into my backyard.

  “Hello,” I said, a bit startled to see a woman waiting on the other side of my gate, and another car parking in the street behind her.

  “Hi,” the pretty blonde said with a shy smile. “I’m not early, am I?”

  “Not at all,” I assured her, pleased to already have customers. “Please, come on back.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly, trailing a step behind me, so I almost didn’t hear her. “I actually saw your Instagram post, the one that Gabriel Lewis reposted, with the wagon wheel table … Do you still have it?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, stopping at the outside of my studio and motioning for her to enter before me. “It’s right in the back there.”

  She walked past me and hurried toward the table, her hand covering her mouth as she made ahhhing noises and walked around the table, looking it over and placing her hand gently on the surface.

  Yeah, she was the perfect kind of customer to me, and I smiled as I thought of my treasured table finding a home with her.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, glancing up at me briefly before looking back at the polished table. “My husband has been looking for one of these since we vacationed in Tennessee. He’s not going to believe I found one.”

  Before I could reply, another woman came in, this one an older brunette, and she was followed by an older woman who I assumed was a relative, based on the resemblance.

  “Good morning,” I said in greeting, then stepped back to allow them space to look over my items.

  Within the first three hours, I’d sold the wagon wheel table, two Adirondack chairs, a bench, and an antique dresser that I’d refurbished. I didn’t do much refurbishing, preferring to build things from scratch, but every once in a while, a piece spoke to me and I picked it up.

  I was standing outside, enjoying the feel of the sun on my face and the sound of customers chatting happily in my shop, when I felt eyes on me and turned my head.

  At first, I didn’t see anything but Serena’s house, but when I looked closer, I saw the curtains move and grinned. Looked like someone was a nosy neighbor.

  “Jed.”

  I turned toward the sound of my name and waved when I saw Reardon and his soon to be stepson Chris coming around back.

  “Hey, guys, how’s it going?” I asked, moving to shake their hands.

  “I meant to come earlier, but couldn’t break away. I’m hoping you still have that bookshelf you were working on last week, it’ll be perfect for the baby’s room,” Reardon said, looking over my shoulder anxiously, as if ready to pounce on anyone he saw coming out with the bookshelf.

  “I still got it,” I assured him, motioning for them to follow me inside. “There,” I said, pointing to the shelves that I’d finished this morning.

  Reardon sighed with relief and grinned.

  “Thank God,” he said, and when I looked at him with a questioning gaze, he clarified, “I showed Chloe the picture I’d taken of it, and she wanted it … bad. She would’ve killed me if I came home empty-handed.”

  “She really would,” Chris agreed with a nod. “She’s got cabin fever … bad. We all need this baby to come soon, or my mom’s gonna lose it.”

  I chuckled and said, “Well, you won’t have to worry about her killing you today, the shelves are yours.”

  Chapter Seven

  Serena

  What in the heck was going on over at Jed’s house?

  All morning there had been a constant stream of women parading through his yard. The first woman I’d seen had been young, blonde, and beautiful, and I’d assume there was some sort of morning-after situation going on.

  Which, for some reason, had my stomach tightening and my heart squeezing with something that felt like a combination of sorrow and anger … which was silly, because I didn’t even like Jed. There was no way I was jealous at the thought of him with some pretty young thing.

  Except, that’s what it had felt like.

  But then, there’d been more women, of all ages, and I decided maybe the pretty young thing hadn’t been his girlfriend, and there was something else going on.

  But, what?

  It was hard to tell from a few glances out my window, and I swear, Jed had almost caught me once, so I decided to do some weeding in my backyard. Sure, I kept my nice clothes on, and forgot my gloves, shovel, and whatever else you need to weed, so instead, I walked over to the privacy fence that stood between our yards and leaned against it.

  I was just a woman enjoying the sunshine in her yard … nothing wrong with that, right?

  “The hard lines and smooth surface is really exceptional,” a woman with a sultry voice was saying. “You must really work on it…”

  My eyes widened as I imagined Jed next door, naked, or at least shirtless, while these women looked him over.

  Was he a model? Did he have some sort of studio back there?

  Or, was he into something more clandestine…

  There was no denying he was attractive, if you were into tall, good-looking men who were too busy to shave and had eyes that seemed to see everything.

  Maybe Jed was a gigolo, and all those women were his johns, or would it be janes, who were coming by for their weekly fix.

  But, on a Sunday?

  “I do,” Jed answered. “Every chance I get I’m back here, honing my craft, trying to sculpt perfection.”

  I blinked. Wow, conceited much? I mean, sure, even with clothes on I could tell h
e had a nice body, but perfection? That was a little much.

  “It shows,” the woman said. “I bet it gets pretty hot out here…”

  Needing to see what was going on, I hurried over to my bench and started pulling it to the fence. Once I had it in position, I stood up on it, crouching at first, then slowly standing up until I could peek over the top.

  I just wanted a glance, to see what was really happening over there. Not that I wanted to see Jed naked, of course, I only needed to see for myself what the appeal was…

  I tiptoed up until I could just see over the top of the fence, then frowned when I saw Jed standing with a woman who looked to be in her sixties, and realized they were both fully clothed. I noticed she was holding a large, wooden slab that looked like a serving tray of some sort, and then my cousin stepped out of the building.

  I ducked so fast that I lost my footing and fell back, yelping as my butt hit the ground with a thud.

  “Serena?” I heard Reardon ask, swearing under my breath as my face reddened with embarrassment.

  I was about to be caught.

  “You okay?”

  I looked up to see Reardon peering over the fence at me, the man so large that he didn’t have to stand on anything to see over the top.

  “Mmmhmmm,” I murmured, standing slowly and dusting off the back of my pants.

  That’s going to leave a mark.

  “What were you doing?” he asked, too sweet to be suspicious.

  But Jed wasn’t, and I knew it when I heard him say, “Spying. She’s been spying on me all morning.”

  “No, I have not,” I lied indignantly.

  I heard Jed chuckle and scowled.

  Why’d he have to be such a know-it-all jerk?

  “Rena, were you spying on poor Jed here?” Reardon asked with mock shock.

  “Pshaw,” I spat, even though I knew it was an unattractive sound. “Poor Jed, my foot. He’s had women coming and going all morning, I was just curious as to what was going on … that’s all. It was purely concern.”

  That had Jed out and out laughing.

  I stuck my tongue out at the fence, then remembered Reardon was watching me, so I looked up at him with an apologetic smile.

  “Why don’t you come around the fence and see what’s going on, rather than peeping over the fence like a creeper?”

  I gasped at my now least favorite cousin.

  “I’m not a creeper,” I protested.

  Reardon laughed. “Come on, Rena, I’ll show you what Chris and I are picking up for the baby’s room.”

  Unable to ignore the opportunity to assuage my curiosity, I slowly made my way through my yard and out my gate, before turning into Jed’s and walking up his driveway. I didn’t want to seem too eager, but when I caught sight of Jed’s knowing grin, I knew I wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all him.

  “Come on,” Reardon said, and I walked past Jed without so much as a “hello” and followed my cousin into the building that was an exact replica of my studio.

  When I stepped over the threshold, I gasped when my gaze landed on the most beautiful table I’d ever seen. I crossed to it, my hand outstretched with the need to feel the wood against my skin. I caressed it lovingly as I took in the beautifully crafted table with the embedded glass river running through it.

  “It’s so gorgeous,” I cooed, then looked up to see Reardon standing there with a smile and Jed watching me with a scowl.

  I didn’t care why he was scowling.

  “I need it!” I exclaimed, picturing it at the art gallery.

  Shoot, it was a piece that belonged on exhibit in the gallery, that’s how beautiful it was.

  “No,” Jed stated, turning his back and going back to the woman with the serving tray who looked like she was ready to leave.

  I gaped at Reardon, then narrowed my eyes at Jed’s back.

  Oh, one way or another, this table is going to be mine.

  Chapter Eight

  Jed

  I could feel Serena seething behind me, which, really, didn’t help her case at all.

  She may not realize that I was picky about who bought my furniture, that it wasn’t about the money for me, but about finding the right home for my work.

  “Thank you so much. Enjoy,” I said to the customer after she paid and told me again how much she loved my work.

  Then, with no one left in the workshop but Reardon, Chris, and Serena, I turned back around and crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Do you need help getting the shelves home, Rear?” I asked, ignoring Serena’s frustrated sigh.

  “Ah, no, we got it,” Reardon said, looking between Serena and me with a confused expression. He must have decided not to get involved, because he shrugged and added, “Well, we’d best be getting back. C’mon, Chris. Later, Jed, thanks … and, Serena, I’ll call you later.”

  “Later,” I replied, not taking my eyes off Serena as they walked out.

  We stood there for a few moments, in the middle of a standoff. Not speaking or moving, until Serena couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “What do you mean no?” she asked, as if I’d just said it. “That is what you’re doing here, right, selling your creations?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes, I’m selling them, but I reserve the right to sell to who I want.”

  “To whom,” Serena said automatically, then when my eyes narrowed she muttered, “Sorry,” probably realizing the way to get what she did not include correcting my grammar. “But, I don’t understand. Why won’t you let me buy it?”

  I sighed. It’s not that I wanted to be a dick, but the river table was currently my favorite creation. I’d spent a lot of time getting it exactly the way I wanted, and had an internal debate over keeping it for myself. When I decided to sell it, I knew the buyer had to be perfect.

  And yes, Serena fuming with her perfect face and gorgeous hair that begged to be tugged between my fingers was perfect for most things … but not for this.

  “It’s a special piece,” I began, not sure how to explain it in a way that she would understand, without sounding like an idiot.

  “I know it is,” she said loudly, cutting me off. “That’s why I want it. It’s beautiful … mesmerizing … absolutely perfect.”

  Okay, I like what I’m hearing…

  “But?” I prompted, expecting there to be one.

  “No, no but,” Serena replied. “It’s a work of art and I know just what to do with it. Here … come with me.”

  She walked past me and out the door, and when I didn’t follow, she stuck her head back inside and said, “Come on, I promise I won’t lock you in the basement or hit you with a tire iron.”

  I blinked. Wow, those were a couple of random, violent options.

  Serena winced and said, “Sorry, I was reading Stephen King last night … Forget I said that, just, follow me.”

  Intrigued, I followed her out the door, then locked and shut my workshop before walking from my yard to hers and going through her gate. She marched toward her own workshop on the back of her property, hair swaying and hips swinging in a very appealing way, then paused to unlock the door.

  Once she’d stepped inside and turned on the lights, I crossed the threshold after her.

  Then I was the one who stopped in my tracks as I tried to take it all in, my mouth open.

  I’d expected the space to be empty, since she’d only moved in a little over a week ago, but instead, it was full to bursting.

  There was standard furniture, nice, good-quality furniture, but there was also art. Gorgeous paintings, sculptures, statement pieces … but more than that there were hand-crafted pieces that were in the same vein as what I did.

  “What is all this?” I asked, trying to take it all in at once.

  “I’m going to be managing the art gallery in town, and they are in the final stages of the remodel, so I’m keeping most of the pieces that I’ve ordered, and been collecting, here until I can have it all moved to the gallery.”


  “So, these are all works of the artists you’ll be showcasing?” I asked, walking to the backside of her studio, drawn there by a painting that was so colorful and so lifelike, yet had a feeling a great sadness to it.

  Serena cleared her throat, but I was standing in front the painting, mesmerized.

  “Yes, some of them,” she answered, her voice getting louder as she crossed to me. “Others are pieces that will be used daily in the gallery, while still on display and available to purchase … That’s why I want your table. For the gallery. It’s a gorgeous piece that should be on display, and if you’re willing I’ll commission it from you to sell.”

  I turned my face to look down at her, startled.

  “You want to display it in the gallery?”

  Serena nodded, her eyes on the painting.

  “Yes, it deserves to be seen. To be lauded.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I was humbled, and felt like a giant ass for being such a jerk about her wanting to purchase the table.

  “Can I think about it?” I asked, even though I knew I should jump at the opportunity.

  “Of course,” she replied, all business now.

  And since we were here, and talking business, I turned my attention back to the painting and asked, “And this … will this piece be displayed and available to purchase in the gallery?”

  I’d never purchased art before. I tended to keep my walls bare and focused on filling my house with wood and furnishings that I either made myself, or found during my searches.

  “No,” Serena replied, her voice low and rough. “This one is mine. I’ve never had a showing of my art.”

  It took me a moment to realize she didn’t mean it was her painting, as in she bought it, but rather, she was the artist.

  I looked down at her, slightly dumbfounded. Every time I thought I had Serena pegged, another facet was revealed.

  Chapter Nine

  Serena