Love in Bloom (4 page)

"Two more months, maybe.  Until Doc can take over again."

"And then what?"

"I'll probably go back to Africa."

The idea of her leaving caused a ripple of consternation Clay didn't understand.  Just as he didn't understand why he'd encouraged her to join the committee.  Why should he care? Because she obviously cared about so many things--Doc and Ben Hockensmith being at the top of her list.

There was a determination about Paige, but there was a fragility, too.  Gut feeling told him it had more to do with innocence than weakness.  Innocence in a woman of twenty-eight...thirty?

The music was going strong again, new squares were forming.  "Are you going to join in?"

Paige looked toward Doc.  "No.  Doc's probably ready to go."

Clay nodded.  It was best she wasn't staying.  Their dancing had made him feel alive, filled with an energy he couldn't remember feeling as far back as he could remember.  But he knew that feeling could cause trouble.  "Tell Doc I'll be out Thursday evening to trim the hedge instead of Wednesday.  My assistant manager will be gone all day and I'll be at the store late."

Paige gave him a smile that brought out the dimple in her right cheek as she lightly touched his arm.  "Thanks for the dancing lessons.  You are a good partner."

She was a woman who liked to touch.  He remembered the way she'd willingly taken his hands at the car, the way she'd run her hand over his oak chair.  He supposed touching was natural in a nurturing profession, but when she touched him...  "You were an easy student to teach.  I'm glad you had fun."

She removed her hand from his arm.  "I might see you Thursday."

He nodded, knowing it was better if he didn't see her at all.

Paige turned away and crossed to Doc's table.

Clay mowed his fingers through his hair.  She was a sweet, caring woman and he was too attracted to her.  Attraction hadn't been a problem the past few years.  He'd acted on it, within limits, and received satisfaction.  But in this instance, attraction could only lead to complications.  His aim in life now was to keep it simple.  And he would.

****

Tuesday evening after Clay had locked his store for the day, he watched his sister sitting at the desk in his office.  It was hard to believe he used to be as fascinated by numbers as she was.

Trish switched off his computer and turned the swivel chair toward him.  "As usual, everything looks fine.  Your business is booming.  The way you've taken to management is amazing.  What kind of ads are you running?"

"Eye-catching ones.  Coupons, too."

"There's more to it than that."

"Service.  My customers like knowing the owner, coming to me if they have a problem.  And if they know I've worked on the equipment...they feel like I'm one of them, not some corporate owner or teenage clerk who doesn't give two hoots about service, just the products he sells."

"Sure you don't want to go into public-relations work?  We could use you in the marketing department."

"Ah, Trish.  What am I going to do with you?  Can't you believe I'm happy here, either?"

She pushed her blond waves away from her face.  "I believe it."

 Trish had been Clay's ballast during his recovery.  His mother had unceasingly cared for him and retaught him.  But she had a tendency to overprotect.  His dad had kept a cool distance.  But Trish had taught him how to be a person again.  He'd felt love for his sister before he'd felt it for anyone else.

He asked, "How's work?"

"You mean how's Dad, don't you?"

"Do I?"

"Gee, I've taught you how to fence well."

Clay couldn't suppress his smile.  "You think you know me."

"Of course, I know you.  I helped develop your personality.  That's why you're the fun guy you are today."

Trish teased him, but there was always an element of truth hanging in their sparring.  "And Dad wishes that was different.  He'll never understand I'm not the same person I was ten years ago and I never will be."

Trish frowned.  "I think he still hopes you'll come back into the business."

"I can't."

"I know.  I've told him over and over that your mind works differently now, that you don't enjoy designing high-tech heating systems."

"He feels he paid for me to become an electrical engineer and that's what I should be.  I guess the way he sees it, his investment went down the tubes."  Clay crossed to the small window in his office and looked out.  "I can't explain the satisfaction that working with my hands gives me.  Whether it's tearing down and rebuilding a mower or chopping wood for the fireplace.  Dad sees me in work clothes and shudders.  His idea of heaven is seeing everybody wearing three-piece suits."

Trish's voice was hesitant.  "Does it bother you that I work with Dad and you don't?"

Clay faced his sister.  He'd analyzed himself from here to next year and had faced up to the problems with his father.  "You're an accountant and doing what you like, what you were trained to do.  You're also doing what Dad wants, so he leaves the rest of your life alone."

"He always hated your rock climbing because of the danger involved, but he respected it because you pursued it with the same intensity you pursued anything.  But when you told him you were moving to Langley and setting up your own business, it shot his plans to smithereens."

Clay's father had a problem with not being in control of his son's life.  "You're the only one who understands why I had to get away from Reisterstown."

"Yes, I do.  But you didn't answer my question.  Does seeing me work for Dad bother you?"

He'd been honest with Trish in everything up to this point.  "No, his lack of understanding bothers me.  If you decided to put your accounting degree aside to become a chef, you'd have the same problems with him that I have."

"Maybe.  But it's worse for you because you're his son, the male he presumed would carry on his business and his name."

Clay grinned.  "Forget the business...now the name could be easier--"

Trish laughed.  "Your sense of humor is much more developed this time around."

"Without it, I couldn't have survived."  Clay swung Trish's swivel chair in a circle until she giggled and put her hand on his arm to stop him.  He held the arm of the chair.  "Enough of this serious stuff.  I'm going horseback riding this weekend.  Want to come along?"

Her brown eyes gleamed with mischief.  "What if I make you a deal?"

Clay let go of the chair and stood up straight.  "Uh-oh.  I usually get the short end of your deals."

She made a face at him.  "I'll go horseback riding with you Saturday if you come to Mom and Dad's for a barbecue on Sunday."

"That's a steep trade-off."

"Mom misses you."

"I know.  I talked to her last week."

"And you can put up with Dad for a couple of hours."

"That's your opinion."

"I'd really like you to be there Clay."

He stopped treating her request lightly.  "What's happening?"

Her expression became coy.  "If I tell you that, it won't be a surprise."

"Trish..."

"Just say you'll come.  It's important to me."

After all she'd done for him, he couldn't say no.

****

Paige pulled her black bag from her car Thursday evening after paying a visit to one of Doc's elderly patients who couldn't drive.  She was supposed to take off Thursdays, but she used them to catch up.  Glancing at the red SUV sitting in Doc's drive, she realized she'd seen it before, parked in Clay's gravel lane.  She listened but didn't hear the sound of the mower or hedge trimmer.

She let herself in the front door.  The wooden screen door slapped behind her.  "Doc?"

No answer.

Going into the kitchen, she peered out the side window and saw the door to the storage shed was open.  Investigating, she found Clay on the floor, sitting to the side of the mower.

Doc handed him a wrench.  Seeing Paige in the doorway, he smiled.  "Hi, there.  The mower's been stalling, so Clay wanted to check it out."

Clay shifted his body toward her.  His perusal made her feel...naked.  Why?  Men had looked at her before.  But Clay was different; her reactions to him confused her.  She certainly wasn't wearing anything provocative.  Her sage-green slacks and beige blouse were not fashion's finest.  She wore a lab coat over her clothes most of the day, so what was underneath didn't much matter--as long as it was clean, pressed, and conservative.  Yet Clay seemed to see deeper than clothes, maybe even deeper than skin.

"Busy day?" he asked easily, his deep husky voice vibrating through her, as he turned back to the mower and tightened a bolt.

"Aren't they all?"  Clay's presence in the shed was disconcerting.  To feel as if she were on solid ground, she said to Doc, "I had three cases of poison ivy.  Kids can't wait to put on shorts and go exploring."

"The lake was crowded last Sunday with boaters and fishermen.  Adults are just as eager to get outdoors," Clay commented, his attention on the machine before him.

"Clay canoes on the lake," Doc explained.

"Early evening's best.  When all the activity's calmed down."

He canoed, danced, did physical labor.  Whatever had happened in the accident, he seemed to be completely recovered now.  But then he'd mentioned scars that weren't visible.  How deep did they run?  "Canoeing on the lake sounds nice."

Clay glanced at her.  "You can come out with me some evening if you'd like."

Alone.  With Clay Reynolds.  On a lake at dusk.  A shiver ran up Paige's back.  Before she thought better of it, she responded, "I'd like that."  She studied Clay's hands.  They were large.  She could still remember their warm grip when he'd helped her away from her car, as he held her when they danced.  She could imagine him in a canoe, his strong arms paddling.

Clay asked, "When's your day off?"

"I don't have office hours Thursdays or Sundays, but I usually go to the hospital and see my patients in the morning.  Then I'm free."

Doc shut the toolbox.  "I thawed out those chicken breasts like you said.  Want me to start the grill?"

"Sure.  Clay, have you had supper yet?"

He slid back a foot from the mower.  "No.  I'm going to grab something on the way home."

"You're welcome to stay."

"Believe me, son, it'll be good for you.  Paige keeps me on a strict diet."

Clay climbed to his feet and wiped his hands on the towel on the mower's seat.  "I don't want to impose."