Restoring Her Faith. Jennifer Slattery

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СКАЧАТЬ left before he’d had a chance. When he tried calling that evening, her phone hadn’t let him leave a message, saying her inbox was full.

      “The bids.” Lucy smoothed her long skirt and sat. “He told you about that, then?”

      “No. I saw them for myself, when y’all were making your decisions. So that I could plan out my end, remember?”

      “Right.” She rubbed her forehead. “Everything’s gotten jumbled, I’ll give you that. But I don’t see what we can do at this point.”

      “Tell Faith something must have been miscommunicated somewhere, that you’re sorry, but... What time did Leaded Pane say they’d show up?”

      “They aren’t coming.”

      “What do you mean? Why?”

      “Because we never called them. We got the bids mixed up. For now, all’s I can tell you is Jenna Anne told Faith she got the job.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “What I’m saying is—”

      “What she’s saying is you’re stuck with me.”

      * * *

      At least now she knew they weren’t going to give her the boot. Not unless Mr. Cowboy made a stink. Though he looked ready to crawl under that lopsided picnic table he was sitting at.

      “Faith.” Lucy sprang to her feet. “I didn’t see you there.”

      She leveled her gaze on Drake. “So I gathered.” Easy, girl. Don’t get yourself fired. She faced Lucy. “You wanted to speak with me?”

      The woman stared at her. “I... Uh... I wanted to make sure you have everything you need to get started.”

      “I do.”

      “If you have any questions or run into any difficulties, you’ve got my number.”

      “I do.”

      Lucy gave a quick nod, looked from Faith to Drake then back to Faith, and then walked away.

      Faith intended to do the same. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She spun on her heel and marched, head held high, toward her trailer.

      Drake jogged after her. He caught up and matched her step for step. “Need help unloading?”

      She stopped and glared at him. “Contrary to what you might think, Mr.—”

      “Call me Drake.”

      Oh, she could think of half a dozen other things she’d like to call him. “—I’m not completely inept, Drake.” Reaching her trailer out of breath, she dug through her pocket for the key to the dead-bolted doors. She suppressed a moan. Of course it was in her purse, which, in her nervousness, she’d left in Drake’s truck.

      He stepped into her peripheral vision. “Everything all right?”

      “Absolutely. Is your truck locked?”

      “Nope. Why? You need something?”

      “I do.” She strode toward his vehicle, still attached to her trailer, with as much self-respect as she could muster. She knew better than to let someone like Drake get to her. Every town had men like him, cowboys who sweet-talked naive and gullible women, swept them off their feet, then left them heartbroken.

      Like Josh had done to her.

      Those type of men weren’t worth a second thought, except she did have to work with Drake. Joy. She yanked open his passenger side door and grabbed her purse.

      A moment later, she returned to find him standing in the same place, watching her.

      Ignoring his steady gaze, she fumbled with her lock. Then, hands slick from the mounting Texas humidity, she strained to unload sheets of glass from her trailer.

      “I cleared out the back shed for you—so you could have uninterrupted workspace.” He motioned toward a small, dilapidated building past the far corner of the church. Thick, overgrown trees and bushes pressed up against it on either side. In front of it sat what appeared to be numerous metal tubs.

      “Does the shed have electricity?”

      “Yep. The sanctuary’s going to be a mess, with us tearing up the carpet and all.” He eyed the various colored sheets spread out beside her. “Hold on. I’ll drive your trailer closer to your work area. So we don’t need to carry everything so far.”

      “Fine.” She stepped back to give him room to maneuver his rig then followed him on foot to the shed.

      He parked and stepped out. “I’ll unload those sheets for you.”

      “No.” Her tone came out clipped. She took a deep breath. “I appreciate your help, but these are expensive and very fragile.”

      “It’s not like I’m going to juggle the things.”

      Ignoring him, she climbed inside the trailer to get to her glass cutting tools. He offered to help a couple more times, and she declined, rather firmly and probably with much less professionalism than appropriate.

      She nearly ate her words when she got to her portable grinder. The cord had gotten stuck beneath the box of lead came used to join cut glass pieces together.

      So she’d take that out, too.

      Ten minutes later, sweat trickling down her temples and static electricity frizzing her hair, she stood surrounded by nearly all her supplies.

      Drake eyed the items. “You always make things so hard on yourself?”

      “Excuse me?”

      “You make a habit of digging your heels in like this?”

      She fisted her hands and scowled. The nerve of that man!

      He leaned over to pick up a blue sheet of glass.

      She nearly lurched at him. “What’re you doing?”

      “Carrying this into the shed, because even though I’m tempted to let you keep on fighting with all this on your own, we’ve got a project to complete. And at the rate you’re going, the church windows won’t be finished before Christmas.”

      She stared after him, mouth agape, as he marched across the patchy lawn, nodding to folks as he went.

      Fine. If he wanted to do the heavy lifting, so be it. “Be careful with those. Make sure to place them in a safe spot.”

      Shaking his head, he disappeared inside the heavily shadowed shed.

      With a huff, she followed, hefting her box of window-cleaning supplies. She stood in the doorway, watching as he carefully set her glass against a plywood wall. An old, deformed rake, a metal gas can and other tools lined the opposite wall, and light emanated from a single bulb centered in the ceiling.

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