For the next hour, they positioned and moved cabinets around the virtual room until Sassie was happy with the layout. By using overhead and corner cupboards, Kerrie had almost doubled the storage space she had envisaged in her mind.
“What about high-gloss white doors? They always look clean and classy.”
“I like that, and I was thinking it would be nice to have black bench tops, too. Keep the colors to two and then I can add splashes of brightness with accessories.”
“Love it. Let me draw up the order and we can finalize things. Do you have a trailer, or do you want it delivered?”
“Delivered would be wonderful so long as there’s a lovely man to unload it at the other end. I’m kind of in a bind here for a little bit, you see.” She held up her bandaged hand, wiggling her fingers. “Doubt I would be much good to go it alone just yet.”
Kerrie laughed. “I’ll make sure there’s a strong guy to unload it for you. The drivers are pretty good, and they can do it all if you tell them where you want it. You usually have to wait a day or two for delivery, but today our driver just happens to be free because the order he was to deliver didn’t arrive on time. An unheard of event around here.” She took a card from the wall behind her. “My hubby’s a plumber. So if you need one, give him a call and tell him I passed along his number. He’ll look after you.”
“I appreciate it, Kerrie. For sure I’m going to need his services when I get these cabinets made. I’m not too fond of doing plumbing myself, and I’m always keen to use local labor.”
“He’s a good man, if I do say so. Is there anything else while you’re here?” She folded her hands on the desk.
“I have a yen to buy some power tools. Could you find it in yourself to give me a hand there too?”
They spent the next hour talking the pros and cons of everything Kerrie had available in the store. When Sassie made her purchases, staff loaded the boxes of shiny new tools into the trunk of her car.
Heart singing, she drove home eager to get the kitchen swept out before the delivery van arrived with her new cabinets. The trunk of her car was full of cordless power tools and hardware to keep her going, giving free rein to her DYI demon bursting to break free and be creative.
What happened in LA no longer bothered her. Now that she was her own woman, had her own house and a future mapped out, life was looking good at last. Sassie was determined to make her mark on the old house and this quaint little town and not fall into the same trap. All it took was distance.
She loaded paint sheets and a couple of sample pots sat in the back of her car, ready for testing colors. She drove with the radio up, singing loudly as her heart soared with the simple joy of doing something for herself. Sassie drove down the laneway around the side of the house and parked on the grass, leaving the way clear for the delivery van. She turned off the car and reached for her purse, clutching the paint samples under her arm.
The crunch of gravel got her attention. A truck pulled in beside her car. The door opened and she gave a small smile as a familiar blonde head appeared. Mr. Bossy Pants, her knight in shining armor, R.P. Cooper stepped out and slammed the door. He nodded in her direction. “Sassie. I hope you’re feeling better after yesterday.”
“I am, thank you. And what brings you here today, R. P. Cooper?” She eased out of her car and shaded her eyes with her bandaged hand.
“My mother. She blames herself, by the way.” He stopped in front of her, and warm brown eyes flecked with tiny lights of green gazed at her. His blond-tipped hair was long over his ears, a wild array of loose curls that had no set pattern. His tanned skin was marred by only a day or two’s growth, clutching his chin and the low lines of his jaw, giving him a rugged look that sent quivers to places she swore would never rise again. Her fingers itched to touch the short stubble, but luckily her good hand was already full of equipment.
His lips parted and he grinned. With his even white teeth bright against the tan of his skin, R.P. looked like an outdoorsman. A rugged cowboy. Up close, his tattoos were intricate. She twisted her head to follow the pattern of one up his arm to where it disappeared under the rolled sleeve of his shirt and poked out at the neck to fade away on the hollows of his throat.
“Interesting. Is that what I think it is?”
“Mine to know and yours to find out.” He chuckled, and a hint of mint in his breath rolled over her face. “Mom suggested I give you a hand. So here I am.”
“Beth.” She held her injured hand in front of her chest and eyeballed him.
“Yeah, who’d you think I was talking about? Emily?”
Sassie shook her head. He was speaking in riddles and it only irked her. She knew they were related, but in her addled state yesterday, that fact hadn’t really sunk in. “Thanks, but I don’t need your help. I’m sure I can manage just fine by myself.” She pivoted and walked toward the house, her paint swatches gripped in her good hand.
* * *
“Mom feels responsible. She insists I give you a hand—excuse the pun—at least with the heavy stuff. It won’t cost you anything, if that’s what’s worrying you.” He followed her, keeping his eye on the luscious sway of her curvy hips. The bright red hair cascaded down her back—what would it be like to tangle his hands in the wild curls?
