A Wedding in Apple Grove (21 page)

He lifted his eyes heavenward. “If only women were are easy to figure out. You surely try my patience, Meggie.”

“I'm not trying to. It's just that I'm afraid to hope for too much, too fast. I don't want to jinx things. I really like him.”

“Don't wait too long to do something about it.” Her father's eyes got that faraway look in them again. When he realized that he'd checked out for a moment, he shrugged and said, “Life's too short.”

When she remained silent, he added, “Check in with Grace. I think she's had a cancellation today, something about somebody having the stomach flu.”

“No problem,” Meg said. “See you later.”

He nodded and stepped back.

Meg put the truck in gear and started to roll forward. She put it in neutral, stepped on the brake, and leaned out the window. “Thanks for hanging around while I was on the roof, Pop.”

His smile lit his entire face and suddenly Meg's day seemed brighter. Backing out of Dan's driveway she knew she had a long day ahead of her, but if she didn't dawdle between jobs, she just might be able to meet Honey B. and hang around while she met date number two.

She'd found and repaired the leaky pipe in Mrs. Hawkins's basement and had tackled the next two jobs on her agenda before she let herself take a lunch break. She checked her messages and felt all warm and gooey inside. There were three from Dan and every one of them was more insistent than the last that she check in with him. She must have forgotten and left her phone on vibrate again, or else she would have known she had a few calls and checked them sooner.

“He cares,” she said, as she shot off a text to him, telling him that she was fine. She remembered to thank him for calling her father and asking him to hang around while she was on Dan's roof.

He answered right away. She laughed when she read his text:
I was about to call the sheriff to have him check up on you.

She texted back.
What about my dad?

Your dad said you were fine when you left my house.

Finishing up her ham and swiss on rye, she drank the rest of the coffee in her thermos and sent one more text; she had to keep to her time schedule.
Got a full schedule. You don't have to worry about me, but I'm glad you do.

His answer was short and sweet.
I care, Meg. See you later.

Five hours later, she had a knot between her shoulder blades and her hands ached, but she'd made it to all of her appointments; the one cancellation had rescheduled for Monday.

She was stowing her tools when her sister walked in. “Hey, Caitlin, how was your day?”

Her sister smiled. “Arms are sore from working overhead for the last few hours, but the new ceiling looks great. Just needs to be sanded.” She was watching Meg closely when she asked, “So what's this I hear from Pop that Dan was worried about you being on his roof?”

Meg shook her head. “Why is it that the men in our lives worry about us being up on the roof but get insulted when we worry about them being up there?”

Caitlin's eyes gleamed with amusement. “Men think they are the only ones who can fix things—and climb up on the roof. I think it's kind of nice that Dan was worried.”

Meg wiped her hands on the rag in her back pocket and finished putting away the extra supplies she'd used that day. “I'm not used to it, but yeah,” she said, looking over her shoulder at her sister. “It is nice.”

“Meg—”

“Can we talk later, Cait? I've got to go meet Honey B.”

Her sister nodded and called out, “My money's on the sheriff.”

Meg was laughing when she got to her truck. Her phone rang as she was walking up the stairs to her apartment. “Hey, Honey B., what's up?”

“My date cancelled, so you can relax tonight.”

“OK,” Meg said. “Are you good with that?”

Honey B. laughed. “Yes, I've had a long day and a few irritating phone calls from the sheriff. I'm about done in.”

“Has he confessed his undying love for you yet?”

Honey B. snickered and said, “Not yet, damn him.”

“I'm going to hit the showers then,” Meg said. “Call me if you need to talk.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later.”

As they said good-bye, Meg disconnected and changed her mind. “Why shower when there's a perfectly good tub just waiting to be filled with hot water?”

She pulled off her sweatshirt and work shirt and left them at the top of the steps. She bent down and untied her work boots, toed them off, and left them in the kitchen by the tiny bistro table. Two steps later her overalls joined her boots on the kitchen floor. Even though the muscles in her upper back were screaming, she pulled her T-shirt over her head and dropped it in the hallway.

The freedom to leave her clothes wherever she wanted made her giggle like a little girl. She walked into the bathroom and stretched, trying to work the kinks out. The hot water would take care of the aches, and what a good soaking didn't fix… well, there was always aspirin.

She cranked the hot water on, let a trickle of cold keep it from scalding, and added her favorite fragrance beneath the gush of water coming out of the spigot, smiling as it made bubbles on top of bubbles. Slipping out of her black lace bikini bottoms, she unhooked her bra and tossed it on top of her panties.

Dipping her toe in to test the temperature she moaned. “Oh Lord, this feels sinful.” Sinking into the hot, fragrant bubbles, she let her worries go while the hot water eased some of the deep-seated ache between her shoulder blades. Her cell phone rang, but she ignored it; whoever it was could call back. She wasn't moving until her fingers were pruney and the water was cold.

The shiver woke her. “I can't believe I fell asleep.” Now that she was awake, she realized how cool the water was. She debated draining some of the water and adding hot, but she might fall asleep again and end up right back where she was right now. The rumbling of her empty stomach was the deciding factor.

“Time to get out and rustle up something to eat.” Too bad her talents only extended from heating up a can of soup to scrambling eggs. But as long as she had either one in her kitchen, she wouldn't go hungry.

Wrapped in the bath towel, she bent over to pick up her underwear and heard someone knocking on her door. “Honey B. must have changed her mind and needs to talk.” Although why she'd knock and not just come in, she had no idea. “Door's open,” she called out.

With one hand holding the towel around her and the other spilling with black lace, she walked down the hallway intending to grab the rest of her clothes and nearly swallowed her tongue. Dan stood in her kitchen with her T-shirt in one hand and her overalls in the other.

“Meg.”

The raspy sound of her name had her belly fluttering and her juices flowing. The depth of Dan's voice reminded her of the way his lips had devoured hers just that morning. She wanted to ask him what he was doing here but couldn't quite get her brain to function—it was on sensory overload.

His eyes darkened to charcoal, the promise of passion calling to her. He stared at her clothes for a moment before draping them over the back of a chair. He scrubbed his hands over his face before saying, “You didn't answer your phone,” he said. “I was worried.”

“I was in the tub.” Why would he drive over here just because she didn't pick up her phone? “I don't always pick up my phone, Dan.” Her gaze met his and she would later swear she saw something vulnerable flicker in the depths for a moment and then was gone. “Is something wrong? Is it one of the boys on your team?”

He raked a hand through his hair and stared at her. “No.”

“Is it your family?”

He shook his head and took a step closer. “You've been on my mind all day and I couldn't get past what the sheriff said about you hating heights. When you didn't answer your phone and I couldn't talk to you, I decided to come see for myself that you weren't suffering from a delayed stress thing.”

She stared up at his face and saw the worry he wasn't quick enough to hide. Humbled that he cared and sensing that it went deeper than mere concern for a friend, she told him, “It isn't always easy. Sometimes I don't get dizzy at all if I'm slow and careful. I've been working on the roofs of nearly everyone in Apple Grove for the last decade without a mishap. You didn't have to worry, but I'm awfully glad you did.”

He walked toward her and asked, “How did you get over your fear? Most people never do.”

She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat and clenched the black lace tight in her hand; the need to grab hold of him and never let go swept up from her toes.

He reached for her and pulled her against the solid warmth of his body. “You're an amazing woman, Meg. I know it wasn't easy for you, but yet you still do what needs to be done without complaint. That's admirable.”

The nasty, edgy fear she'd bottled up inside of her all day bubbled slowly to the surface… She didn't know what to do with it there… she was used to keeping it to herself.

His big hands roamed across her back and shoulders, finding the knot of tension that had returned and just wouldn't go away. “You're tense.” Without asking, he started to knead the spot and slid his other hand to the base of her spine, pinning her against him.

The tight knot opened and slowly gave way under his ministrations. Meg sighed and snuggled closer. “You have amazing hands.” The memory of where those powerful hands had caressed and how he'd gentled his touch, tuning it to correspond with her sighs, filled her until she couldn't stop herself from asking, “Are you here to just check up on me, or are you planning on spending the night?”

His hands stilled on her back and he sighed. “I hadn't planned on staying the night.” He eased her out of his arms and confessed, “Meg… I don't mean to turn you on and off like a faucet.”

She could see the play of emotions he was too tired to hide and tried to lighten things up. She was ready to open her arms to him but had a feeling he needed a little more time to work it all out in his head. If only he would open up and talk to her about his past, maybe she could help him get past it. “I love it when you talk plumbing.”

When he just stared at her, she said, “I'll still be here when you're ready to take that step back to where we left off.”

“It's not you, Meg—” he began, only to shake his head and take a step back from her.

Her body ached in every single spot he'd touched with his hands, his mouth, and his heart. Being noble just might drive her over the deep end. She needed him to understand where she was coming from. “I've been existing for so long that I didn't realize I wasn't fully alive until the other night. Dan, you touched a part of me that I thought had died.”

He looked at his feet and then back up to meet her gaze. “I didn't mean to.”

“God, I hope you did because I've never felt so wonderful in my life.” He lifted his gaze and the flicker of indecision she saw hurt. She was so sure about him. “I want to share what's inside of me with you, Dan, if you'll let me.”

A piece of her heart hardened and chipped off when he remained silent. She wouldn't beg for scraps—she wanted it all. “I believe in what we could have enough that I'm willing to give you more time to make up your mind. Just don't take too long deciding that you want it—or me.”

“You're making this harder than it has to be.”

She waited until his troubled gaze met hers. “That's where you're wrong. I'm making it easy offering you everything.”

“Meg, I want you so bad it hurts,” he told her. “But I can't afford to make another mistake—you mean too much to me.”

With that glimmer of hope, she struggled to smile and found that she could. “You're worth the wait, Dan.”

He nodded and turned to go. She closed the door. With her back against it, she waited until she heard the sound of footsteps walking away from her. Footsteps that paused on the stairs.

When his car started, she sank to the floor and let her head rest on her knees. It had taken every bit of her control to keep from jumping into his arms and kissing him senseless. He needed the gift of time, and she was going to give it to him, but that didn't stop her from feeling drained, weak, and sorry for herself.

Wondering if Honey B. might need someone to talk to, she pushed to her feet. Dressed in comfy sweats, she found her phone and dialed her friend's number.

“Hey, Honey B.,” she said. “It's me.”

“Hey, you. Is everything alright?”

Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes, but she ignored them. “I'm not sure,” she confided. “Dan was just here.”

“Did he take what he wanted and then leave you all alone?” her friend teased.

“Well,” Meg said slowly, “you're right about the second part.”

Honey B. was silent for a moment before she asked, “So he's still keeping his distance?”

“Yeah.” Meg wished she could do something to push Dan back into her arms where she wanted him. “Is it me?” she finally asked.

“Oh, sweetie,” her friend rasped. “Not a chance. You are one in a million. Gorgeous, talented, and wonderful. If he can't see that, he's not the man for you.”

Meg laughed as the words she so often told Honey B. were quoted back to her. “You're pretty smart, you know that?”

Honey B. chuckled. “It must've been those powerful vibes you're sending my way that had me whipping up a batch of fudge. How about if I bring some over and we can trash-talk Dan Eagan and Mitch Wallace?”

Gratitude filled Meg. “I'll make the cocoa.”

Her friend snickered. “A woman can never have too much chocolate.”

“Thanks, Honey B.”

“Dig into your collection of chick flicks and pull out a couple of good ones. I'm spending the night.”