Divine Phoenix(Divine Creek Ranch 10)(6)

It was obvious by the slight lines around her eyes and mouth that she smiled often, but there was a fragile, indefinable quality to her as she lay in the hospital bed. There was a hint of some emotion in the set of her lips that pulled at his heart. Not exactly a frown, but more of a heart-sadness. Clay shook his head, thinking he was getting a little too touchy-feely with his artist side. She shivered slightly, and for a moment her hand gripped his and then went limp as he released it to tuck the blanket in around her.

He wondered for the hundredth time what had been the cause behind the accident and what had brought her back to Divine, loaded down with her personal possessions. Added to that list now was the faint, intuitive feeling that she had reentered his life for a purpose. He shook his head again as he rose from the chair, unwilling to disturb her.

Clay knew all the stereotypes about artists—that they were flaky, in touch with their emotions, and generally unreliable. Hell, he’d lived some of those categorizations over the years, but his gut was telling him that she needed him. He left a message for her with one of the nurses and went on to the shop.

A couple of hours later, Tabitha swung one side of his workroom doors open.

“There’s a man in the showroom asking to speak to the owner. He said he doesn’t have an appointment.” Clay could tell by her tone that she was slightly peeved and hoping Clay would tell her to send the man away.

Repositioning the magnifying light he was working with, Clay shook his head. “I’ll talk to him. I could use the break.”

He raised his arms over his head and stretched. No acknowledgment came from the doorway, and Clay glanced in Tabitha’s direction. He cringed inwardly when he saw the way she was gaping at him with her jaw hanging open.

Switching off the lamp, he pretended he hadn’t noticed her hungry expression. He glanced at the “No Dating Policy” tacked to the bulletin board and mentally thanked the friend who had suggested it when Tabitha had first come to work for him. She’d been visibly disappointed when he’d mentioned the policy to her one day when she’d hinted that she found him attractive.

“Did he tell you what he wants?”

Tabitha curled her lip as she focused her attention on her manicure and whispered, “He doesn’t look like he can afford much in here. I don’t know what he wants. He wouldn’t say.”

That was the real reason she was being pissy.

Clay slipped past her and walked directly over to the man who stood looking at the engagement rings inside one of the showroom cases. He had on faded jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and work boots. He looked like the average working man, not necessarily polished or well-off but not a bum like Tabitha had suggested with her attitude.

“Hi, I’m Clay Cook. What can I do for you?” He held out his hand and the man looked up, smiled, and shook with him in greeting.

“Beck O’Malley. I’m pleased to meet you, Clay. I was just looking at your engagement rings.”

“Tabitha said you asked to speak with me directly.”

Beck looked at him and smiled, evidently appreciating the direct approach. “I’m new in town. My girlfriend and I just moved here. At least she’s my girlfriend right now. I’d like to propose to her. We moved here so I could start a new venture, and it’s…slow going.”

“What business are you in?”

“Beekeeping. Honey harvesting.”

That raised Clay’s eyebrows a bit. “I’ve never met a beekeeper before,” he said with a chuckle.

“Not many of us around here, I guess.”

“So what can I do for you?”

“I wondered if you were open to bartering…for a ring.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure I’d ever use that much honey, Beck.”

Beck grinned. “The beekeeping is my fulltime business nowadays, but I’ve also done mechanic work, auto body and interior repair, carpentry, you name it, I can probably do it.”

Chewing the inside of his lip, Clay thought about the little silver Mazda parked outside the shop. “You drink coffee?”

Momentarily taken aback, as though he’d been prepared to be turned down, Beck’s eyes widened, and he nodded. “Sure.”

Clay gestured to the coffee shop located just a few hundred yards away in the shopping center. Above the small building was a cheerful, busy, red sign declaring “Divine Drip” on it. “Why don’t we get some coffee and talk? Tabitha, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Sure thing, Clay,” Tabitha called out as Beck followed him out the door.

Obviously picking up on the way Tabitha had of drawing out Clay’s name like a caress, Beck asked, “That your wife? Should we bring her a coffee?”