An Imperfect Match / Next Comes Love. Kimberly Van Meter

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СКАЧАТЬ not to let his son’s innocent statement sting. Hadn’t he told himself the very same thing? “Glad we got that out of the way,” he said a bit wryly, signaling the end of the conversation.

      Brandon smiled. “Me, too. I guess she can stay until you can find something else for her. You’re right. Mom would’ve wanted us to help if we could. She was always looking out for everyone but herself.”

      Dean nodded and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat that never failed to choke him when he thought of Beth. God, he missed her. It didn’t seem fair that she’d been taken from them so young, but since it never brought her back, he’d long ago stopped railing against the injustice of God’s plan.

      Some things just weren’t fair and that was that.

      His thoughts wandered to Annabelle and what little he knew of her. Sammy had implied that life hadn’t been particularly fair to her, either, but she didn’t seem the type to cry about it. He had to admit he admired that in a person. Anyone could sit and bawl. It took guts and a strong character to pull themselves up and move when all they wanted to do was quit.

      Where was Honey’s father? Was he in the picture at all? Sighing, he realized it wasn’t his place to wonder such things. No good was going to come from him poking his nose into Annabelle’s business, especially after promising his son that she wouldn’t be around long.

      ANNABELLE ARRIVED on time the following morning, earning a curt nod of approval from Dean as she entered the office. He also didn’t hide his relief that Honey was not with her. She withheld a sigh for his obvious dislike of her baby and tried not to take it personally. It was his loss. Honey was an amazing kid.

      Dean gestured toward a ridiculously small desk and she looked at him quizzically. “That’s where I’m supposed to sit? Which sixth-grade classroom is missing a desk?”

      “I know it’s on the small side, but I wanted you to have a space to work from while we get things figured out. It’s all I could find on such short notice.”

      “What’s wrong with that desk?” she pointed at the large and still cluttered desk he was behind.

      “It’s not a good idea.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because it’s not.”

      She inhaled a short yet frustrated breath. “Listen, this is a little crazy. You can’t possibly expect me to sit at that baby desk when there’s a perfectly good, adult-size desk right here.”

      “My wife used to sit there,” he said bluntly.

      She tried to tread carefully, but his odd territorial stance on the furniture was wearing on her patience. If she’d had anything else to go to, she’d ditch this job in a second. But she didn’t and therefore was stuck with the need to make a go of it. With as much delicacy as her annoyance would allow, she said, “I’m sorry for your loss. Dana told me your wife died. But I can’t really do the job you’ve hired me to do without a proper place to sit. I promise I won’t change anything. I won’t move pictures around or kill her plants—although, you seem to be doing a pretty good job of that yourself—and I’ll even do my damnedest to learn your kooky system, but you have to loosen up, too.”

      He stared and she held her breath, knowing the next words out of his stern mouth were going to be something along the lines of Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, and resigned herself to another serious job hunt.

      But he didn’t.

      “You’ve got a point,” he slowly agreed, though it looked like the admission was painful. “All right, I’ll haul that kiddie desk out of here.”

      “Thank you,” she said, thinking privately it seemed an odd thing to be grateful for, but she accepted the victory just the same. “Now, show me how to run this office.”

      An hour later, Annabelle had a headache.

      “But why don’t you just file the jobs alphabetically?” she asked, not quite understanding the inefficient way they were doing things. “This number system is bound to screw things up. No wonder you’re losing stuff. Look here, this job and this job—” she gestured to two different slips of paper “—have the same number but they’re different contracts. If you used an alphabetical system by company or client name you’d have less slipping through the cracks.”

      “Beth devised this number system and it worked before so it’ll work again. Now, instead of fighting me on it, just listen and learn.”

      Annabelle bristled. It wasn’t in her nature to allow someone to talk to her as though she was an idiot. And it didn’t matter that Dean was the kind of man who could make her look twice on a crowded street—he was seriously pissing her off with his dogged refusal to see what was plain in front of his face.

      “I’m sure this system worked peachy for the woman who conjured it out of her head but for us mere mortals, it’s a bit confusing. Even you can’t seem to figure it out.”

      Dean’s face flushed a dull red and she knew she’d crossed the line. Damn it all to hell. But even as Annabelle prepared for the roar of indignation she was sure was heading her way, he seemed to choke down whatever had been dancing on his tongue and uttered a grunt of some sort that may have been an agreement.

      But he didn’t look happy about it. “Well, she made it look easy. And all the files are numbered in this way. To start over would take an inordinate amount of time that I don’t have.”

      At this Annabelle brightened. Finally something she could work with. “No problem. That’s what I’m here for. I’ll get this system turned around so that anyone coming in after me could easily figure it out, and you can concentrate on getting the jobs.”

      He shifted uneasily, but there was a glimmer of interest in his brown eyes that Annabelle had to admit made her insides flip-flop oddly. “You think you could do that?”

      She smiled. “Of course. I wouldn’t have made the offer if I couldn’t deliver. I’ve worked in an office before and I have an eye for efficiency. I guess you could call it my gift.”

      He grunted, but she couldn’t tell if it was a noise that qualified as approval or disapproval and so she said, “You know, if we’re going to work together we need a better communication style.”

      He blinked. “What do you mean?”

      “I mean the grunting has to stop. I know guys have their own language, but for the purposes of ensuring that I don’t misunderstand you, let’s try for a mutually agreed-upon language. Like English.”

      Dean scowled, but Annabelle wasn’t deterred or intimidated. She’d been around men more coarse and meaner than Dean Halvorsen could ever manage to be, and she wasn’t going to back down. Besides, her mom had always said, men needed to be reminded every now and again of the rules, otherwise they ran amuck. Much like dogs.

      Although, now that she thought about it, her mom might not have been the best for advice about men—she never seemed to be able to hold on to one or find one worth keeping.

      She sighed privately, pushing that particular thought as far away as she could manage, and returned her attention to Dean.

      “So, what’s it going to be?”

      He СКАЧАТЬ