More Than Words

  A Novella

  Seasons of Hope series book 3

  Jessica R. Patch

  Are you Patched In?

  Sign up for Jessica’s newsletter and receive notifications of new book releases and price deals. Occasionally, Jessica offers FREE novellas to her subscribers for a limited time. Your email address will never be given out and you can unsubscribe at any time.

  Copyright © 2015 Jessica R. Patch, All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design by James, Goonwrite.com 2015

  This work is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the author, except a reviewer who wishes to use brief passages in connection with a review or article.

  Author is represented by Rachel Kent of Books & Such Literary Management.

  Dedication

  To those who haven’t caught their breath after being wounded. May God heal you to wholeness.

  &

  To the Lover of my soul. My faithful Friend. Shepherd of my heart. For you, always.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter ONE

  Chapter TWO

  Chapter THREE

  Chapter FOUR

  Chapter FIVE

  Chapter SIX

  Chapter SEVEN

  Chapter EIGHT

  Chapter NINE

  Chapter TEN

  A note from the author

  About the author

  Acknowledgments

  “The Lord is near the brokenhearted; He saves those crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18 (HCSB)

  CHAPTER ONE

  The drip, drip, dripping had to stop. It had to stop right now. This instant or Cassie James was going to go even madder. Like chainsaw-on-the-masses kind of mad. She hadn’t quite gone so crazy she’d take out women and children yet, but if she lost one more night of sleep over the leaky kitchen faucet, she was going to go postal on the town of Mistletoe. And she rather liked her hometown.

  Especially these past two years.

  Thanks to Eden Snow bringing the church to the bar where she’d worked at the time.

  Tripping across her peeling linoleum floor, Cassie crossed the five feet from her tiny bedroom to the faucet, banged on the nozzle, then tried tightening the knobs before resorting to name-calling. “Stupid! Dumb! Idiotic sink!” She kicked the cabinet door, sending a reverberating thud through the countertop. If her landlord wasn’t a precious, eighty-five-year-old woman who was renting this money pit to Cassie for practically pennies, she’d call to have it fixed. But Earlene Taylor barely had a handful of peanuts herself, and she didn’t need the added stress with her heart condition. If she had an inkling of the issues Cassie dealt with on a daily basis, the poor lady would stew night and day.

  Besides, another couple of years and Cassie’s decorating business would be soaring. Already, it was doing well. In her cracker-box spare room, mounds of papers towered on a writing desk, and fabric swatches filled the space from corner to corner and floor to ceiling. Sadly, she couldn’t afford a real office. She was trying to save up to buy her very own home. An accomplishment to be proud of.

  Growing up, no one had given her much of anything. She’d fought tooth and nail for what she owned now. And she’d keep fighting. Sighing, she envisioned her dream home and office, but the dripping continued. Maybe if she put a towel in the sink it would absorb the three-seconds-apart pings. Blasted pipes. But the thing was, even with her business growing, she wasn’t making enough to live and put some back for her dreams. She needed a part-time job. Something flexible. Waitressing gained her lots of tips but only on weekends, and she needed weekends for clients and to shop at antique stores and auctions for furnishings.

  Bartending was out. She didn’t live that kind of lifestyle anymore. No more wild one-night flings. No more throwing her life away on things that ultimately didn’t matter. She’d been spiraling into a dark place when God pulled her out. She could have ended up becoming the one thing she feared most.

  Her mother.

  Peeking outside, Cassie spied her neighbor sitting on her front porch, in curlers, drinking coffee and reading her Bible. Like clockwork. She was wrapped in a quilt, which meant it was cold out. Didn’t look cold. Today’s high was going to be sixty-four degrees. Perfect.

  Grabbing her camel-colored canvas jacket, she belted it and yanked her hair out from inside the coat. She had a stop to make at Wood Alls. Clever name. Doubt Jax Woodall came up with it on his own. Stepping onto her porch, the wood creaked under her weight. Cassie had a sick feeling termites had been feasting, but she couldn’t bear to bring someone out to check. Or maybe it was just old rotten wood. Either way. She babied it, tiptoeing across, and then she took the steep concrete stairs to the cracked sidewalk and headed for her truck. Her rental house wasn’t far from the square, and she normally rode her bike, but she couldn’t ride it an hour into Chicago to job hunt or to haul furniture, which was why she’d purchased a nice, big pickup truck. Wasn’t really her style, but it worked.

  Waving at her neighbor, she backed out of the drive, cranked her radio to a sappy love song, and headed into town. To butt heads with Jax Woodall. He’d been in town for over five months, after buying the florist shop Audrey Brookson used to manage. But Audrey didn’t seem to mind anymore. Not now that she’d landed the pastor of Abundant Life. What a catch. Unlike Jax Woodall.

  It had taken Cassie at least three months to interpret his grunts and nods. He didn’t say much. He frowned often. And that just didn’t jive with the picture she had in her head of a southern gentleman. Since he was from Memphis, Tennessee, she expected him at the very least to call her ma’am or tip his hat. Not that he wore a hat, but if he did, he should tip it. And call her ma’am.

  But the quality of his work was off the chain, and in the short time he’d been in town, his business had surpassed Cassie’s. Maybe she should have gone into furniture making. She made a right and parked in front of Walter McMahan’s construction company. Eden Everhart sat inside at the front desk. Cassie stepped out and caught her eye, waved, passed the library, and stood at Wood Alls.

  The large picture windows flanking the ornate wooden door showed an empty counter and a few new pieces of furniture. She opened the door and entered a man’s space. The scent of lumber, stain, and pine. The phone rang.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Where was Jax?

  “Jax?” Cassie called. The phone continued to ring. A crash sounded from the back. A curse. Cassie pinched her lips. She’d been working to watch her language, but it was a harder habit to break than she expected.

  Another crash and a growl erupted.

  The phone silenced.

  Jax stopped in the hallway that led from the back workroom into the actual store area. Sawdust on his jeans, a gray V-neck T-shirt stretched tight across his chest and biceps. A dark splotch marked the center. Stain, maybe. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and the hazelnut hair around his temples and brow had dampened and curled.

  A square face with a day’s worth of beard made a manly backdrop to intense blue eyes with hints of green and gold. No one said Jax wasn’t a man’s man. Cassie swallowed and ignored the dip in her stomach.

  He scowled, rushed to the counter, and picked up a dead phone.

  “Stopped ringing two minutes ago,” Cassie offered.

  He slammed it on the cradle and massaged the back of his neck. “You here about that book cabinet?”

  What else would she be here for? To stare at a walking billboard for testosterone? Well…maybe… She hid her smirk. “Yeah. It’s Monday.”

  “It’s not ready.”

  “But I’m going into Chicago today. My client is expecting her purchase, and you said it would be done.” She crossed her arms and waited for a good excuse. The phone rang again.

  Jax snatched it up. “Wood Alls.” He listened. “I can’t. Because it’s last minute, and I have a shop to run. I’m one man, Lori.”

  Lori. And yes he was one man. A gruff one at that. Who was Lori? Lori Anderson from the school? She was single. Was Jax Woodall dating Lori Anderson? And how had this rumor not made it to Cassie’s ears? Adele’s “Rumor Has It” played in her head, and she shimmied her shoulders with the silent tune.

  Jax frowned at her again and huffed. “If you’d have given me some notice, I’d have been—no but—I’m not—can we talk about this later? I have a…customer.”

  Cassie was one of his biggest customers, so he needed to lose the tone.

  He opened his mouth, but apparently, this Lori person had hung up. He placed the phone on the cradle and puckered his lips. Perfectly cut, heart-shaped lips. “About that book cabinet…” His voice typically sounded like gravel,
but his agitation pronounced it.

  “I’m gonna need that today.”

  “No doors. Got held up. Tomorrow by ten is the best I can do, Cassidy.”

  Ever since the first day she’d purchased the cutest accent table with a robin’s egg blue stain and handed over her debit card, he’d been calling her Cassidy. No one called her Cassidy. Ever.

  “It’s Cassie. I think I’ve told you this before.”

  “It’s stuck in my brain. It is what it is. Now, about that book—”

  The phone rang again.

  The door opened and Sierra Bradley flitted inside bringing the scent of sugarcane and roses to the room. She grinned and waved. Jax smiled.

  He actually smiled. Humph!

  “Hey girl,” Cassie said. “What are you up to?”

  “I ordered a few stools for the bistro. I was coming to order about four more.”

  Jax scribbled on a notepad. “Sure. Let me check.” He put the caller on hold.

  “Be right with you, Sierra.”

  “What about me, Jax? What are you gonna do for me?” Cassie winked at Sierra. She had to admit getting under his skin was entertaining.

  He grunted, muttered something, and rushed into the back room. A few seconds later he came out, held his finger up to Sierra, and answered the phone again.

  “He’s busy,” Sierra whispered. Leave it to Sierra to be respectful. “And flustered.”

  “He is busy.” Too busy to have a book cabinet done today. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but he was so surly and gruff. It was too easy to rib him. He hadn’t even said he was sorry. How did this man drum up business? She glanced around the shop at the items on display. That’s how. Exceptional craftsmanship.

  “He needs an assistant or a secretary or something.”

  Hmmm… “Sierra, I do believe you are right.”

  “I typically am,” she teased.

  Cassie laughed and snorted. Jax shot her a dirty look.

  “You got it. I’ll have it to you by then. Call if you need anything else.” His southern drawl, while gritty, was charming. He laughed. Deep. Rough. “Yes, ma’am…yes, ma’am.” Well, whoever that was got a “ma’am.” More laughing. “Will do. Thanks.” He hung up, let out a heavy sigh, and turned to Sierra. “What can I do for ya?”

  “I wanted to order a few more stools. And give you some free advice.” Syrup oozed in her tone.

  Jax quirked an eyebrow. “Alright.” Slow, drawn out. Skeptical.

  “You need an assistant. You’re gonna frazzle out.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Well. Well.

  Sierra placed her order. “Don’t work too hard, Jax. Come by the bistro. Lunch is on the house.” She waved and made a graceful exit.

  As if dreading to look at Cassie, or pretending she wasn’t in the room, thereby making her not exist, Jax pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “I’ll tell you what, Jax. I’ll make a deal with you.”

  That landed her a grunt.

  “I won’t give you a fit over not having the cabinet done, or complain and demand you discount the price—”

  “One day, Cassidy!” She’d irked him.

  “If you hire me.”

  “Hire you for what?” His eyes narrowed; he took a cautious step backward.

  “You said yourself you need an assistant, and I need a part-time job.”

  “You have a job.”

  “Right, but it’s like this…” She jumped up and made herself comfortable on his counter. “I live in a shanty, Jax. Do you know what a shanty is? I’ll tell you.” She pointed at him. “No, I’ll tell you what it’s not. It’s not my dream home. It’s not big enough to house my stuff. It torments me with leaky faucets and porch planks that threaten to swallow me alive every day. It’s not even a mediocre place. Now, I thank God I have a roof over my head. Mind you, when it really pours it’s a leaky roof, and that last thunderstorm took out a few shingles, but it’s a roof. However, Jax, it’s not my idea of my future.”

  ***

  Jax rubbed the area under his ear lobe as Cassidy James rambled on and on about her house. What did her house have to do with a job? The woman got under his skin something fierce. She rambled and rambled and rambled. Like right now, rambling. She might not get that cabinet tomorrow after all. He’d never get a chance to finish the doors.

  Most women gabbed. That was their thing. But this one. From the first day she walked into the shop. Yap. Yap. Yap. At first he’d overlooked it because she was a sight to behold. Sunshine for hair. Green eyes shaded by long lashes. Legs that went for miles. Curves where curves should be. No lanky, bony air-brushed body.

  But then she opened that lush mouth and hadn’t shut up since.

  And it really wasn’t so much that she talked a mile a minute or incessantly…okay that was part of it, but Jax had no clue what to say to her. He was never good with words, especially around women he was attracted to. Heck, Mama said he didn’t even talk at all until he was almost three. People weren’t his thing. His ex-wife would attest to that.

  When he had to deal with people on a quick, order-to-order basis he did fine. Now, here was this incredibly beautiful woman sitting on his counter as if she belonged there just carrying on.

  “And I tripped. Oh yeah. I’ve got the bruises to prove it. Duct tape is supposed to work on everything but it failed me, Jax. It. Failed. Me.” She shoved her finger against her chest.

  He could think of one place he’d like to use that duct tape. What was the original discussion about in the first place? He couldn’t even remember.

  “So?”

  Scratching the back of his head, he peered out the window. “I—”

  The phone rang. He reached for it, but Cassidy beat him to it.

  “Wood Alls. Cassie speaking.” She glared at him. Why was Cassidy so bad? He liked it. A lot. She looked like a Cassidy more than a Cassie. Cassie sounded like a little girl. And Cassidy James wasn’t a little girl.

  Her sweet voice carried. “I’m just helping Jax out for the moment. He’s racked up so much business. Oh, he’s definitely that good. You won’t find better craftsmanship.” Her laugh did a number on his stomach. Did she really think that? She used his business often, but to hear her say it…

  “And when he says he’ll have it done, he will.” She glared at him again. “Sure. Sure. Come on in and I’ll sketch it out for you. Of course, I would. Tomorrow at noon sounds great.” She hung up. “Either hire me or tell me you can sketch.”

  “I can sketch.”

  “Are you lying?”

  “I don’t lie.” Lying ended marriages. Cheating ended them, too

  “Dang.” She hopped off the counter and sighed. “Alright. I gotta split. I’ll be by tomorrow for my book cabinet. Probably going to be in the city every day this week, anyway.”

  “For what?” Why? Why did he egg her on?

  “Job hunting. Have you not listened to me at all?” She went into the shanty spiel again, and he held up his hand.

  “I’m just not hiring right now.” Not hiring her. She was distracting with her sweet scent, bossiness that came closer to cute than controlling, and over-the-top ways. He didn’t need any distractions. He’d moved to Mistletoe out of necessity. Never wanted to leave the South. Never wanted to leave his land. Six acres near a pond. He could fish whenever and walk the woods and take in nature’s beauty. The only moments he believed God was good. “Besides, I can’t pay you enough to put a down payment on a dream house.”

  Her lips turned south and it pinched his heart. She had been fantastic on the phone. She was personable. Professional. She ran her own business and, from what he heard and by her orders, she did well.

  But he had to focus on one female.

  And it couldn’t be Cassidy James.

  “I get it.” She started to leave.

  That was it? I get it? He expected more fight. Oddly, he kind of wanted one out of her. He was his own double standard.

  She paused and turned. “Actually, I don’t get it.”

  There it was. A smirk formed, but he quickly masked it. “Well, I guess I can say it slower.”

  “I need a job. I need to make extra money, and I need something flexible. I’m not saying you’re flexible. I’ve got a funny feeling you’re not. But the job is. Half days. Five days a week and I’ll give you one Saturday a month. I’ll be in tomorrow.” She breezed through the front door, and when Jax was absolutely sure she was far from earshot, he doubled over laughing.