Restoring Her Faith. Jennifer Slattery

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.

      Ugh. So she’d cut her pieces outside.

      “I had my ranching buddies bring these.” He motioned toward the rusted metal tubs, which she now recognized as feeding troughs. “Will this be enough, you think?”

      “For...?”

      “To soak your glass in, get all the dust and grime and whatnot off them. Isn’t that how you do it?”

      Duh. She knew she’d forget something, as if she hadn’t looked unprofessional before. But feeding troughs? “I hadn’t thought to use farm equipment.”

      He gave a slight shrug. “When Leaded Pane came out a few years ago, they brought a tub, but that was when only one window needed cleaning. I figured there might be more to tackle.”

      She nodded. For uniformity, she’d need to wash them all. “I appreciate the forethought.”

      “No problem. Need anything else?”

      “I’m good.”

      “Hey, boss?” She saw a potbellied man in coveralls waving Drake over.

      “Excuse me.” He tipped his hat to her, then sauntered off.

      She gazed up at the side windows of the church, each at a height that made her stomach knot.

      Lucy had assured her, when Faith made her bid, that she could use the scaffolding they already had on hand, but that probably belonged to Drake and his crew. The thought of asking to borrow it, even though technically it was considered on-site equipment, made her jaw clench.

      The man obviously didn’t like outsiders and clearly thought she was the worst person for this job, probably because she was a woman.

      She’d just have to show him and his committee friends how wrong they were.

      Half an hour later, with notes, measurements and photographs in hand, she circled the property. When she reached the other side of the church, she practically cheered. There, two older men stood a few feet from the back of a dented white van, assembling scaffolding.

      “Howdy.” The taller of the two touched the brim of a sweat-stained ball cap.

      “Hi.” Hopefully these guys held women in higher esteem than Drake did. She approached with an extended hand and introduced herself. “I’m here to work on the windows.”

      Both men faced her with feet shoulder width apart.

      The one on the right mopped his brow with a gray rag. “So I heard.”

      What did that mean? Drake had probably been flapping his mouth to everyone out here. She resisted the urge to ask, and maintained a forced smile. “If it’s not too much of a bother, when you’re done assembling this—” she indicated the rolling aluminum tower they’d been building “—would you mind if I borrowed it? Briefly.”

      They exchanged glances, and the shorter of the two tugged on the skin beneath his chin. “Mind if I ask what for?”

      Drake joined them. “Everything okay here?”

      “Perfectly.” She faced him and repeated her request.

      He studied her a moment, his deep gaze latching