A Wedding in Apple Grove (19 page)

He hadn't thought about going to the fair in years. “The last time I went to the fair they called it the Sussex County Farm and Horse Show, but I heard from some of my cousins who went last year that the fair is even bigger and that it had moved to a permanent location and they changed the name again. Now it's the New Jersey State Fair, but we don't call it that.”

She smiled and he knew if he didn't focus on getting them where they had to be, he'd pull over so he could watch the way her features softened as her smile deepened. It hit him then that he had it bad—the inner battle his heart was waging with his mind churned his stomach. He should be on guard, his mind insisted. Remember the scent of her skin and the softness of her sighs, his heart reminded him.

“Some of my best memories are from when I was little.”

The wistful sound of her voice filtered through his concentration, and he almost ignored it, but then had to ask, “What's your favorite one?”

“We were in grade school and my momma had us all dressed up—I hated putting on these patent leather dress shoes—because we were going to her friend's wedding.” He stole a glance out of the corner of his eye; she was lost in the memory. “My mom and her friend were like sisters and this was a cause for celebration because everybody in town figured she'd be an old maid.”

She seemed happy remembering, so he prompted her to stay there just a bit longer. “How old was she?”

Meg grinned, and told him, “Twenty-nine.”

That was a surprise. “But isn't that how old you are?”

Her laughter sounded just a bit sad. “Yeah. Out here, folks usually marry young.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Well, there's college, finding the right job, and making a living so you can afford a nice house in a nice neighborhood. What else would you have to offer the woman you intend to marry?”

“Is that what happened to you, Dan?”

He shrugged. “I guess that's how it started, but it ended far differently than I'd planned.” When she remained silent, he asked, “How do you make a living out here if you don't go to school? How do you afford a home for your family?”

“A lot of the kids I went to high school with graduated and went to the local Ohio State campus—where we're headed in Newark—but just as many went to the big campus on scholarships.”

“Well then, why the rush to get married?”

“It's just a part of the lifestyle out here. Some of the people out here marry their childhood sweethearts. Others never marry.”

“But what about getting out there and experiencing life?”

“We do,” she grumbled. “What do you think we do out here in Apple Grove?”

He shook his head. “After finding out that Doyle and Hawkins spend their time out on that railroad trestle bridge, I'm afraid to ask.”

She didn't say anything more for a while and they drove in silence. He realized that it wasn't one of those awkward silences where you were struggling for something clever to say to keep your date interested. He was almost afraid to use the word, but it fit how he felt perfectly—comfortable.

***

Meg relaxed while Dan drove. It was a good feeling to just be. She wondered if he felt the same way in her company. Was she willing to hear the answer if it wasn't what she'd hoped? Fear of rejection had her reaching for her phone to check her messages. She'd told Grace and Caitlin she was going to Newark this afternoon. They tried to pry the details out of her, but she'd left them wondering. There were three messages from Grace and one from Caitlin. Not ready to read what Grace had to say, she opened Caitlin's first.

It was short, sweet, and to the point—just like the middle Mulcahy sister.
Have
fun.
She laughed.

“What?”

Hmmm, he sounded interested. “Nothing, just catching up on my messages.” Scrolling through Grace's messages, she decided to answer them later, instead focusing on what lay ahead—Honey B.'s date and the possibility that she just might meet the man of her dreams. Meg was optimistic enough to believe that it was possible that, after all the years Honey B. spent waiting for the sheriff to pay attention to her, her wait was over—and she was about to meet a new man, one who would be a part of her future. Either that or the sheriff would wake up and realize that the best thing that ever happened to him was just waiting for him to walk across the street.

She needed to be on guard and vigilant, sizing up the situation and paying close attention to her friend's body language and that of the man she was meeting. It was a lot of responsibility, but Meg was determined to do her part to keep her friend safe. The tension was giving her a headache. She gave in to the need to confide her thoughts in Dan and said, “We're almost there and I can't decide if I'm scared or excited for Honey B.”

His hands eased the death-grip he had on the steering wheel. “I won't let you down.”

His fervent words wrapped around her like one of her dad's bear hugs. She hadn't realized how badly she'd needed one. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

“She's taking the shortcut.”

Dan signaled and kept his speed up so he wouldn't lose sight of Honey B.'s car. Meg hadn't realized how intense it would be making sure they followed her friend and not get caught behind traffic. The throbbing that began at the base of her skull was moving up her neck.

“There're a couple of bottles of water behind you.”

“Thanks, but I'm not really thirsty.”

He mumbled something beneath his breath and told her, “You'll need it to take something for your head.”

She turned her head around to stare at him and wished she hadn't. But she ignored the pain and asked, “What makes you think I have a headache?”

He sighed. “You've been tense since you told me about your plans, Meg. I can see it in the way you're hunching your shoulders.”

“I might have a slight headache.”

His snort sounded suspiciously like laughter to her. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No, ma'am. There's a bottle of aspirin in the glove box. If you're going to be any help to Honey B. at all, you'll need a clear head. Don't be stubborn, Meg. Grab a bottle of water from the backseat and take the damned aspirin.”

“Don't hold back, Coach.”

The words were already out of her mouth and couldn't be called back. She sounded snarky and, worse, bitchy.

He laughed. “Just do it, Mulcahy.”

The tension building inside of her eased up. She unbuckled her seat belt and reached around behind her, snagging a bottle and opening it before she put her seat belt back on. After she'd taken the pain reliever, she buckled up and let go of the bad feelings she'd been hoarding. It wouldn't do either of them any good if she spent the next few hours in a bad mood.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

“Are you always this polite, Dan?”

He grinned. “My momma raised me right.”

They passed a few businesses and restaurants before Honey B. signaled and pulled into one. “Bob Evans?”

Meg shrugged. “You can always get good food here,” she said. Although it wasn't quite what she'd envisioned, but her friend hadn't told her what the name of the restaurant was and now she knew why—Meg would have questioned what kind of guy would have her friend meet him at a family-style restaurant.

“This could go either way,” she told Dan. “He'll either be a really great guy who likes home-cooked food, or he'll be a loser and expecting Honey B. to pay his way.”

Dan looked at the building and then back at her. “It looks bright and clean—inside and out—what's wrong with it?”

“Don't they have Bob Evan's restaurants up by you?” The look he gave her was all the answer she needed. “It's a chain of restaurants specializing in home-style food.”

“And the problem with that is?”

“If he's trying to impress Honey B., he should have taken her someplace else.”

Dan frowned. “You mean more expensive?”

Meg shrugged. Honey B. was worth the extra money her date could have shelled out. “She's getting out; let's give her a head start.”

“Do we need a reservation for here?”

Meg shook her head. “Not that kind of place.”

“Is the food bad?”

She looked at him and wondered how to explain what was going through her head. Finally, she blurted out, “The food's great, their sausage gravy and biscuits are to-die-for, but it's like having a home-cooked meal.”

“And that's bad because?”

She shrugged, ignoring his question.

“Do you cook?”

Busted.
But she wasn't going to admit to it. Big on telling the truth, she evaded the question and blurted out, “All of the women in town over the age of twenty-one know that you do.”

With that she pushed her door open, got out, and started walking. She didn't want Honey B. to have too much of a head start and she was getting tired of trying to explain what had been a part of her foundation growing up in Apple Grove. Was it really that different wherever Dan was from? “Guess I'll have to ask.”

“Ask me what?” the deep voice rumbled from behind her. She should have known he wouldn't let her get too far ahead, especially after giving her his opinion of the whole online-dating scene in general. She huffed out a breath and told him, “I'll ask you later. Come on!”

They'd managed to pick a good time, and the place was fairly empty, so they didn't have to wait for a seat and could sit far enough away from Honey B. to not attract attention, but close enough to eavesdrop if they wanted to.

Once they'd picked their spot, Dan pulled out the chair for her and she sat down. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”

“I thought it was your idea.”

Her gaze swept the room before settling on the man across from her. He'd worn a royal blue polo shirt—a hue that changed the color of his eyes, as they reflected the warm, deep blue. But it was the way his broad shoulders and deep chest filled out that shirt that had her breath snagging in her lungs as she remembered the way he'd caged her beneath him and gently, with devastating precision, awakened the passion sleeping inside of her before catapulting her to the stars.

“Meg.”

“Hmmm? What?”
Crap
. She felt her cheeks heat with the embarrassment she was trying to hide. She didn't want him to know what she'd been thinking about, especially after everything she'd said about being here for Honey B.

He shook his head. “You must have been thinking about something else.”

Hoo
baby, was she!
“I don't get out much,” she confessed. And that was all she was going to tell him. Let him draw his own conclusions.

He nodded. “That's why I started teaching myself how to cook more than just scrambled eggs and hamburgers.”

“Because you didn't eat out much?”

“Actually, because I love to eat—and then later because I enjoyed experimenting with recipes. It's like chemistry.”

She searched his face for a sign that he was pulling her leg but couldn't find one. “You're serious?”

“Hey,” he said, “eating is serious business.”

His lightning-quick grin had that funny feeling fluttering in her belly again. She gave him a quick smile and then leaned closer, saying, “You need to stop being so distracting. I'm working here.”

He started to laugh and then must have seen that she wasn't kidding, so he cleared his throat, took a sip of water, and looked over her shoulder. “Tall, broad, and auburn-haired at twelve o'clock.”

She started to turn around and he stopped her with the slight shake of his head and whispered, “He's coming this way. Look at me, Meg.”

The depth and urgency in his voice compelled her to look at him. Their gazes connected and something warm and sweet shifted inside of her, catching her off guard with the intensity of the feelings she wasn't quite sure what to do with; they were more cerebral than the passion that swept her away the other night. A warmth in the vicinity of her heart started to spread, sending tingles of heat to the tips of her fingers and end of her nose.

“Whatever you're thinking,” Dan rasped, “I want some.”

She blinked and asked, “What did you say?”

He looked over at the table where Honey B. and her date were quietly talking and then back at her. His cheeks flushed and she wondered if he regretted what he'd just said or was embarrassed that he'd said it.

“Sorry,” he said, “but the look on your face was just short of rapture.”

She swallowed to clear her throat and give herself time to figure out just how much to tell him. Finally, she realized that she should go forward the way she'd been living her life since she'd lost her mom and Jimmy left town: being as honest and straightforward as possible.

“When I looked at you just now, I had the feeling come over me—”

He reached for her hand. “Thinking of the other night?”

She shook her head. “No. That's the funny thing. I kind of got lost in your eyes and felt something warm and sort of—” She paused and looked down at her hand cradled in his. “It'll sound silly.”

He stroked the back of her hand gently. “If we're going to get to know one another better, shouldn't we start now?”

She marveled that his touch could be so tender, so light, yet move her so deeply. “Sweet,” she whispered. “I felt something in here.” She placed her hand over her heart. “It wasn't physical… it was almost cerebral, yet ethereal—” She looked away and confessed, “I've never felt anything like that before.”

His fingers tightened around hers, and she jolted when his warm, firm lips brushed against the back of her hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I was afraid you'd laugh.” She didn't like being made fun of, and because of her size compared to that of her younger sisters, she'd been the brunt of more than one joke growing up. Kids could be really mean.