Page 7 of A Tempting Seduction

After all, she'd already knocked me flat on my rear.

How hard could it be to return the favor?

Chapter Two

I pushed through Java Jolt's back door into the late afternoon heat, my mind still spinning. Ford freaking Larson, with his broad shoulders and those warm brown eyes that made my stomach do things it had no business doing. Heck, I even liked his long hair, which I normally didn’t go for. Instead, all I could think about was pushing my fingers through all those brown strands and seeing if they were as soft as they looked.

Then the man goes and asked for my number. Me! Ruby Miller. The man must have actually hit his head. Hard!

I fumbled with my keys, dropping them twice before managing to unlock my beat-up Honda Civic. The metal door handle burned my palm, but I barely noticed. My brain kept replaying the moment when Ford had looked at me like I was something special instead of the chubby barista who hid under oversized flannel shirts.

Carrie had told me Walker was the player in the family. Ford was supposed to be the responsible one, the steady brother who fixed everyone else's problems. So why had he been flirting with me? The whole interaction felt surreal.

I cranked the engine and let it run for a few minutes until the air conditioning started blasting my flushed face. Maybe Carrie had put him up to it as some misguided attempt at matchmaking. My friend had a habit of trying to fix everyone's problems, whether they wanted fixing or not.

“Stop overthinking this.” I gripped the steering wheel harder. “He asked. You said no. End of story.”

Except it didn't feel like the end. Ford's warm brown eyes and that genuine smile kept replaying in my mind. It had been a long time since someone had looked at me like that. Lance had been all about appearances and what I could do for his career. Finding him in bed with my sister Carla had been bad enough, but the way they'd both acted like I was the problem for being upset? That had been the real betrayal.

Some people showed you exactly who they were when they thought they had you trapped. Thankfully, I'd learned that lesson before walking down the aisle.

The memory still stung, but I pushed it aside. This was Jasper Creek, not Los Angeles. Different world, different people.

Maybe Ford really had just wanted to ask me out.

The drive across town gave me time to shove those thoughts back where they belonged. I had more important things to worry about than why a gorgeous construction worker might want my number. Like the fact that I had three stops to make before I could even think about going home.

Oops, make that four.

Roger’s grocery store sat on the corner of Main and Cypress. When I went inside. I grabbed a basket and made my way to the bakery department. Roger Clemons stood behind the counter, his left wrist wrapped in an elastic bandage that made him wince every time he moved.

“Ruby!” His face broke into a grin. “Right on time, as always.”

“How's the wrist feeling today?”

“Better than yesterday, not as good as I'd like. Doc Evans says another week in this thing.” He held up the bandaged wrist with a rueful expression. “Makes slicing bread a real adventure. It’s even worse in the deli department.”

“You should have Dennis handle the deli until you're healed up.”

“That boy couldn't slice warm butter without cutting himself.” Roger chuckled. “Besides, keeps me humble. Reminds me I'm not as young as I used to be.”

I selected a box of pastries from the bakery case, choosing the ones I knew Luther and Violet preferred. Croissants for him, lemon bars for her, and a few sugar cookies because they were both partial to simple sweets.

“These for the Violet and Luther?” Roger's eyes twinkled.

“Tuesday visit.” I tucked the boxes into my basket. “Luther's been asking about the apple turnovers, but Violet says they're too sweet for his blood sugar.”

“Tell you what.” Roger leaned across the counter conspiratorially. “I'll have the bakery make some with sugar substitute next week. Won't taste quite the same, but close enough to make him happy. That way he won’t be stuck with the croissants.”

My chest warmed. This was why I loved Jasper Creek. In Los Angeles, grocery store managers didn't care if your elderly friends had dietary restrictions. Here, Roger would go out of his way to make an old man's day brighter.

“You're the best, Roger.”

“Just looking out for our folks.” He straightened up slowly. “Drive safe now.”

I got back to my car and made it across town. Mid Lake Retirement Community sprawled across five acres of meticulously maintained grounds, its brick buildings connected by covered walkways lined with flower beds. I'd been visiting Luther and Violet Randolph for eight months now, ever since Trenda Avery-Clark had told me they had no family nearby and spent most days alone.

Their apartment on the second floor of Building C had become one of my favorite places in Jasper Creek, almost as high on my list as the quilting room at Dorothy's Antiques. I knocked on their door.