A Wedding in Apple Grove (26 page)

“Don't I get a vote?” Meg protested.

“No!” The three of them were staring at her as if she'd lost her mind. Maybe she had.

“Who's going to finish my jobs for the day?”

“I'm sure Pop can handle it.”

“But then you'll have to tell him what happened.”

“Do you think he doesn't already know?”

Meg groaned. “He'll lecture me about not paying attention.”

Grace hooked her arm through Meg on one side while Mrs. Winter did the same on the other. “You should be used to it by now, Sis.”

She was, but that didn't mean she had to like it. “Perfect.” As they were walking through the door, she tugged on them to stop. “I'm sorry to be such a lousy patient, Doc.”

Doc Gannon rolled his eyes heavenward. “You're my most difficult patient.”

She laughed. “Seriously, thanks, Jack.”

He smiled at her. “You're welcome, Meg. Now go rest that hand.”

“Sure thing, Doc.”

They pulled around to the back of the shop and she hopped out; she didn't want either of them thinking she needed help. She was stronger than that. “I promise to hold the fort down, Gracie.”

Her sister sighed. “Just remember to be polite when you answer the phone.”

“I'm always polite.”

The sound of her sister's laughter followed her into the building.

Sitting down behind the desk felt odd; she hadn't done that since the time she'd nearly taken a header off the water tower. It had been a punishment then to answer the phones and not go out on calls with her father. Grumbling, she flipped through the computer screens to see what Grace had been working on.

There were a few spreadsheets open; she pulled up the one with today's date on it and scrolled through the jobs to see what her sister Caitlin was up to, but she didn't have to bother because two minutes later the phone was ringing.

“Mulcahy's, Meg speaking.”

“How many stitches?”

Meg frowned at the sound of her other sister's voice and decided to pretend she had no idea who was calling. “You have reached Mulcahy's, where no job is too small. This is Megan; may I help you?”

“Damn it, Meg,” her sister said. “It's me, Cait. Now start talking.”

She chuckled. “Hey, no need to get grumpy. You weren't the one who had to get two shots and stitches.”

“Jeez, why two shots?”

“One to numb my hand and one in case there was rust in the pipe I hit my hand on.”

“I heard Doc Gannon saw bone and you got twenty stitches.”

Meg scrolled down the screen. “How did you hear that if you're supposed to be putting that addition on for the Millers?”

“Good news travels fast, and I needed a break.”

One of the other phone lines was lit up. “Hey, Cait, hang on. The other line's ringing.”

“Mulcahy's, Meg speaking.”

“Megan dear, I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

She smiled, recognizing Miss Trudi's voice. “I'm fine, just a little cut. I'll be good as new in no time.”

“Young Doctor Gannon does a wonderful job. So much like his father.”

The other phone line was still blinking; her sister hadn't hung up on her yet. “I have someone on the other line, Miss Trudi, thank you for calling.”

“Just be sure to do what the doctor told you to.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Meg answered before disconnecting and pushing the other button. “Cait, you still there?”

“Yeah, who was it: Mrs. Winter, Honey B., or Miss Trudi?”

“Miss Trudi. I might have to actually do what the doc says for the next day or so.”

“Must have been a deep gash if you had stitches and a tetanus shot.”

“Deep enough.”

“Did you pass out?”

“Damn, the other line's blinking again. Talk to you later, Sis. Thanks for checking up on me.”

Her sister was still grumbling when she disconnected and picked up the incoming call. “Mulcahy's, Meg—”

“I just had a call from Grace.”

Meg sighed. “Hi, Pop.”

“I'm over at Mrs. Winter's house now under the sink.”

“I don't think it's the joint that I sweat a few years ago that's leaking,” Meg told him, “but I didn't have a chance to spend much time looking.”

“How's the hand?”

“Hurts.”

“Did you take anything for it yet?”

“I didn't need to before you called. I guess the first shot's wearing off. I swear I can feel where he stitched the skin back together.”

Her father commiserated with her. “Hate shots, hate needles. Take some of that extra-strength pain reliever. Second drawer down on the left-hand side of my desk.”

“Thanks, Pop. The other line's ringing; can I put you on hold?”

“Gotta go find the leak. Put the other call on speaker and get the damned pain reliever.”

She smiled as she did as her father asked. “Mulcahy's, Meg speaking.”

The drawer stuck and she had to yank it to get it open.

“Meg, it's me, Honey B.”

Meg grabbed the bottle and walked over to the water cooler and filled a paper cup. “I've got you on speaker. I'm getting some water.”

“I heard you passed out twice and Mrs. Winter said it took the Doc twenty-five stitches to close the cut!”

Meg swallowed the capsules and finished the water before answering.

“Meg, are you still there? Should I come over?”

She snickered. “Drinking here. No worries, Honey B. I'm fine, just sore. Hey, the other line's blinking. Call you later.”

She sat down before answering the call. An hour later she had had to answer a dozen calls, half of which were her nosy neighbors wanting to know the gory details of how deep the cut was, did she chip the bone, did she crack her head on anything when she passed out… Some of the questions were really imaginative. Especially Mrs. Doyle, who wanted to know if Doc Gannon had really caught Meg in his arms before she fainted.

“Like I'd ever admit to that even if it happened.” She sipped her second cup of coffee, relieved that the phones were quiet for the moment.

Her cell phone buzzed. She checked the message and laughed.
Don't just answer the phones, there's filing.

“Only you, Gracie.” Just to be difficult, she texted back,
Hand hurts, don't feel like it.

Two seconds later, her phone buzzed again.
Pain relievers in Dad's desk… be back in twenty.

Meg rarely got in a snit over something one of her sisters said, but she decided this was worth getting annoyed over. She'd just had her hand stitched back together and had to put up with two needles, damn it. Besides, her sister had probably stopped to have coffee with Peggy and Katie, to help circulate the news. It had been a slow couple of days in Apple Grove, and Grace never could keep her mouth shut for long.

Grateful for the break, she switched to her father's desk and relaxed in his comfy chair, swiveling around so she could look out the front window. She could work later; her hand really was starting to ache again. Since it was too early to take anything for the pain, she finished her coffee and closed her eyes.

She heard the door and figured it was Grace coming back, so she didn't turn around.

“'Bout time you showed up, Sis. Oh, and for your information, I didn't do the filing. My hand hurts.”

“Meg.”

Dan's deep voice flowed over her stiff shoulders like warm syrup on a stack of hotcakes. She swung the chair around and was surprised to see the anxious look on his face.

“Aren't you supposed to be at the garden center helping your aunt?”

He shook his head. “I told Aunt Trudi and the guys that I was running over here to see if you were all right first. They all told me to go for it. Besides, the hay delivery got there and the guys were really a big help setting things up the way my aunt wanted it.”

She started to rise, and he pulled her to her feet and stared down at her gauze-wrapped hand.

“Did the wrench slip or your hand?”

“Don't you want to know how many stitches?”

He shook his head and pulled her close. “When I heard you'd been hurt, I didn't know if you'd fallen off a ladder or through somebody's ancient barn roof.”

She sighed. “Neither.”

“Then I heard from my aunt that you'd cut your hand badly. I had stitches a couple of years ago—I can tell you the particulars later—but I know how hard it is to get things done with one hand. And I started thinking about how we both want to spend more time together and came up with a great idea—how about if you come home with me and I'll take care of you for a few days?”

“That sounds like a more interesting solution than me going back home.”

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I'd like to tell you that I have no ulterior motives, but I keep getting this image of you in my shower, and me washing your hair… and then the rest of you.”

She swallowed before she drooled. The image he painted was now stuck in her head. “Maybe it'd be more fun at your place.”

He laughed then grew serious. “Was it really thirty stitches?”

She brushed her lips across his chin to get his attention. “Half that and they'd feel a whole lot better if you'd kiss me before you go.”

Desire flashed in the depths of his warm gray eyes a split-second before his lips claimed hers. The soft, tentative touch was filled with sweetness that had her relaxing in his arms.

“Don't pass out on me, Meg.”

She laughed and laid her head against his broad chest. It felt good to lean on someone else for a change, nice not to have to be the strong one this time. “Just a little tired and taking advantage of your offer starting right now.”

He eased back and the hopeful expression on his face got to her heart. “Can you wait for me here? I forgot, I'm supposed to be working on the Model A with your dad this afternoon. Will you want to leave early or regular time?”

“Regular time is fine. I'll ask Gracie to drive me over to the apartment and pack a few things. She should be back any minute.”

He flashed a wicked smile that disappeared so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it. Maybe she wasn't ready for this. “Dan, I—”

He brushed the tips of his fingers across her face and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Let me take care of you, Meg.” He kissed her forehead and then lifted her injured hand to press his lips to her wrist at the edge of the bandage. “I'll pick you up at five thirty.”

He was gone before she could gather her wits enough to tell him she'd be ready. She sat back down and watched him jog over to his car. He turned and waved. She smiled and waved back. It was just for a couple of days… but it was the thought of the nights that had her heart stuttering. The need to tell him how she felt warred with the need to wait until he told her first.

Besides, what could possibly happen?

Dan put the worry of Meg on the back burner while he waited for her father to arrive. He got to the Mulcahy house before Joe, and since the temptation was too great, he got out and walked over to the barn. To his surprise, it wasn't locked.

“Wow. A vehicle like that and the barn isn't locked.” He was about to go in the barn alone but realized it would be better if he waited. A few minutes later, Joe drove up and honked, announcing his arrival.

“I was about to give up and head into the barn without waiting.”

Joe grinned. “I was wondering how long you'd wait before you tried the barn door. It isn't locked, you know.”

Dan smiled sheepishly. “I tried the door.”

Joe's laughter was contagious. “Come on. Now that I've decided to start working on it, I'm anxious to get to it.”

Dan wasn't sure how to tell Joe about the plans he and Meg had made, so he simply told him, “I'm picking Meg up after work and taking her back to my place.”

Joe paused with his hand on the tarp. He finally nodded and whipped the cover off the truck and popped the hood. “Let's see what we can do with this engine.”

Wasn't Joe going to ask his intentions? Dan wondered if he should say anything else. When Joe seemed to be totally focused on the engine, Dan finally asked, “Where do we start?”

Joe put his hands on the front of the truck and stared down at it. “How much time do you have today?”

“'Bout two hours. I don't want Meg to get too tired. I promised I'd pick her up at five thirty.”

“Doc Gannon is a good doctor. He took good care of Meg. As long as she takes pain reliever every few hours, she'll get through the worst of it.” He let his gaze slide over to stare at Dan. “I think it'll be a good thing for you to take care of Meg. She's taken too long to get over that Van Orden kid, but she's got a big heart and a need to love someone. I think you could be that someone.”

Gratitude flowed through him. Joe trusted him with his daughter. “I know I am.”

“Good,” Joe said, looking back down at the engine. “I think two hours will be just enough time to drain the oil and check all of the gaskets and hoses.”

“The plugs?”

“Those too. Then we'll take the battery out of the F1 and see if this baby will turn over.”

“Do you have a fire extinguisher?”

Joe laughed and pointed to the front of the barn. “Over there.”

Two hours later, they both had nicks on their knuckles and broad grins on their faces. “I can't believe she cranked!” Dan said.

“Solid engine. They don't make them like that anymore.”

“But your grandfather took care of it, when he put it away.”

Joe agreed. “He loved trucks.”

They were cleaning up when Dan looked over at Meg's dad and said, “Thanks for letting me get under the hood with you today, Joe. It's like a dream, working on a truck like that. Wait till I tell my dad!”

Joe nodded. “Hey, if you hadn't been so eager to look at it, I probably would have put it off another five years.” He looked at his watch and said, “Hey aren't you supposed to pick up Meg?”

“Damn! Gotta run. Thanks, Joe!”

“See you next Saturday?”

Dan felt like a kid again and pumped his fist in the air. “Count on it. See you then.”

Now that he was on the way over to her apartment, the anticipation of having Meg all to himself had him envisioning mornings in the shower, soaping up every glorious inch of her, and nights in bed, sampling the flavor and texture of her amazing body. A tiny little piece of his heart cried out that he needed her to love him. He had to tell her how he felt soon.

He texted that he was on his way, and by the time he pulled into the driveway, she was outside. Something warm and wonderful burst inside of him at the sight of her walking toward him. “Hey, I'll carry that.” He reached for her overnight bag, but she shook her head.

“I've got it, thanks,” she said, “but you could open the door for me.” She held up her injured hand and sighed. “I'm having trouble getting used to the fact that I only have one good hand.”

He opened the door, let her stow the bag in the backseat, and then opened the passenger door for her. “How about if we take it easy for starters and see how much you can do with one hand. You could help me make dinner.”

She reached for her seat belt and felt the frustration building; her hand wouldn't fit between the edge of the seat and the inside door panel. It was going to be harder than she thought if she couldn't perform the simplest of tasks on her own. Grabbing the shoulder harness with her left hand she tried to buckle up, missing the first two times.

“Here, let me.” Dan brushed her hand aside and fastened her in. “We take so much for granted, having the use of both hands. I'm going to need you to remind me of the things you can't do. OK?”

She blinked the tears away, but Dan must have noticed. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Work with me, Meg. I'm not trying to make it harder for you by having you ask me for help. I just might not notice at first that you're struggling with something.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Besides, I can always drop you off so your dad and sisters can take care of you.”

“You have an evil streak in you, Dan Eagan.”

It felt good to laugh. He'd been scared shitless when he'd heard from his aunt that Meg had been hurt on the job. “Busted.” He laughed and then said, “I've also got a really great imagination, Meg… if you're feeling up to it later.”

He watched her from the corner of his eye, encouraged when she licked her lips and turned toward him.

“If I take more pain reliever with dinner, I'll let you talk me into bed.”

For a moment the vision of her tangled in the sheets had him tongue-tied. Finally, he managed, “I, uh… that would… OK.”

He pulled in the driveway and unbuckled her before she could ask. He remembered what it had been like to be incapacitated, but for him it hadn't been as difficult; he hadn't injured the hand he used most.

“I'm hungry.” She grinned as she reached around him to grab her bag. “What's for dinner?”

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he led her into his house. “I know I promised to fix you a special meal, but I forgot about working with your dad. How do you feel about leftovers?”

“Works for me. I don't expect you to foot the bill to feed me while I'm here, Dan. I can chip in for groceries.”

The way she stood, with her shoulders back and her chin tilted toward the ceiling, had him wondering if he'd ever known a woman like Meg before. Proud, bold, and beautiful. “Let's see what I can rustle up while you wash up and—” She was frowning at him. “Hold on,” he said. “Let me put my briefcase down and I'll help you wash your hand.”

He pulled her toward the sink, unbuttoned her cuff, and rolled up her sleeve. Turning on the taps and waiting for the water to warm up, he squirted soap into his hands and then held their hands under the warm water. He urged her to lean against him while he gently worked up a lather then rinsed it clean.

“The dishes are over there.” He pointed to the cabinet above the sink, glanced down at the top of her head, and said, “Hang on. I'll get them down for you.”

When he'd set everything they'd need down on the counter, she sighed. “This is going to be harder than I thought. So I'm warning you now that I might get a little crabby.”

“Noted.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He opened the fridge and took stock of what was inside. “I've got pasta primavera, meatballs with brown gravy and buttered noodles, or the old standby: breakfast for dinner.”

Her eyes lit up. “Can we heat up the primavera and the meatballs, and share?”

How could he say no to the auburn-haired woman looking up at him with hope in her wide blue eyes? “You got it.”

He grabbed a bunch of containers and set them on the counter, deciding to heat up the meatballs and gravy first. “Hey, can you make the salad?”

“Only if you wash it for me.”

“I prepare a lot of stuff beforehand—saves time when I walk in the door starving. The salad just needs to be put on the plates.”

He handed her a couple of bags. “Even I know this isn't lettuce.” Meg held up a bag of colorful pepper slices.

He grinned. “And even I know that lettuce alone doesn't qualify as a salad,” he said, handing her a bag of romaine broken into tiny pieces, then set out bags of cherry tomatoes, chunks of cheese, and croutons.

“A lot you know,” she grumbled. “I don't even use this kind of lettuce.”

“Well, romaine is all I have at the moment; we can buy whatever you'd rather have later.”

“I'm sorry; I'm just having a hard time adjusting.”

He watched as she filled a bowl with lettuce, then the rest of the ingredients he'd given her. “Looks great, Meg.” The microwave dinged and he switched out the plate for the one with the egg noodles on it.

“Have a seat.” He handed her one of the salads, grabbed the other, and guided her to the table. When she was seated, he set the plate down and walked back to the counter and pulled out a bottle of wine from the rack beneath the middle cabinet. While she watched, he opened the bottle, poured a tiny bit in the bottom of one glass, and handed it to her.

“Swirl it around, sniff it, and then taste it.”

She rolled her eyes but did as he suggested. “It's good.”

He smiled. “It's one of my favorite Merlots.” The microwave shut off again, and he added the plate of pasta. When everything was ready, he carried it over to the table and set it in the middle. Meg was staring down at her salad with a fork in her left hand, but not moving. “Do you need help eating?”

She shook her head. “Nope, just hoping I won't be spilling too much. I hate to waste food.”

Scooting around so they were side by side, he let her fork up some salad and didn't say anything when she bobbled the first forkful. When she'd had a few bites, he leaned close and held a fork to her lips. “Try this and tell me what you think.”

She opened her mouth but from the way she glared at him, he knew she was going to be difficult, so he waited for the right moment and slipped the pasta in her mouth and told her to chew.

Surprised, she did just that. Her glare softened and he handed her the wineglass. “Now sip.”

“I can feed myself,” she grumbled.

“But then you're depriving me of the pleasure of feeding you.” She sighed and sipped the wine. When she reached for the napkin, he snuck in a kiss and licked his lips. “My pasta tastes great on you.”

She was laughing when he covered her mouth again, this time letting his lips linger. “Mmmm… we'd better keep eating, or else you'll go to bed hungry.”

He let her eat more salad before waving the meatballs and gravy in front of her. “Ready for something else?”

She grinned. “I thought you were taking me to bed.”

“I've changed my mind. You're going to need every ounce of energy you can get from dinner to keep up with me tonight.”

Her cheeks flushed a delightful shade… like a newly ripened peach. He watched as she leaned toward him and nipped the food off his fork. “Mmmm.” She chewed and swallowed. “Better than my grandmother's.”

“Can I try?”

He thought she wanted to feed herself and was pleasantly surprised when she managed to get a forkful of pasta and then offered it to him. “Try it.” She beamed. “It's really good.”

They took turns feeding one another, pausing only to sip from their glasses. Neither one seemed to need words, when a look or a touch communicated so much more.

They rose together and he shook his head when she reached for an empty plate. “Leave them. I want to take you upstairs.”

“But I think I ate too much.”

“That's all right; we can take our time until you've digested dinner. I can think of a few things that'll keep us occupied while we wait.”

***

Meg nearly swallowed her tongue. The hot looks Dan kept sending her way had her heart galloping at full speed. She didn't know what to say, but she did know what she wanted to do. She let him take her by the hand lead her to the second floor.

She hadn't taken the time to notice much about his bedroom the first time she'd been here, but it had been in the middle of the night and dark. He flipped on the wall switch and the room was bathed in the soft, incandescent glow of the light on his dresser. The mahogany four-poster and matching dresser seemed to fit in with the age of the house.

The black and gray striped comforter was soft to the touch. “Silk?”

He shrugged. “I like soft things.”

He reached for her, snagging her shirtfront and tugging her closer. Starting with the one beneath her chin, he slid the buttons free slowly, drawing out the task, making her crazy with want. “Dan, I—”

“Shush. Let me.” His mouth pressed against the hollow of her throat made her knees weak. She reached out to keep from falling and smacked her knuckles on his shoulder.

She saw stars and before she could protest was cradled against the warmth of Dan's massive chest. “I've got you,” he soothed.

“My fault,” she said. “I forgot.”

He struggled not to smile and failed. “I'm glad I could make you forget… that's the plan tonight.”

He set her on the bed and helped her out of her shirt and unhooked her bra. Tossing it over his shoulder, he urged, “Lie down.”

The sight of his big hand in the middle of her chest did funny things to her insides. She shivered and he closed his eyes.

“Not yet,” he told her, urging her down. “Don't close your eyes yet, Meg. I want to watch your eyes go soft and cloudy as you come for me.” He undid the button and slid the zipper slowly down, pressing his lips to the skin he exposed.