Unfinished Dreams (3 page)

What the heck was she analyzing this guy for?

“Well, it’s this front window.”  Tess bounced the cord, watching it bob up and down like some nervous Nellie as she glanced at the window in question.

“Ah, you mean the one in the living room?”

His voice softened a degree and so too, her concern. The sound reminded her of a gentle evening breeze.

“Sounds familiar, huh?” Her eyes narrowed trying to envision what type of man went with this voice. He didn’t sound like he was too much older. How could she tell though over the phone? He chuckled so softly she almost didn’t catch it.

“There’s a little trick to that. You just push the window frame a little to the left and then straight up. Works every time.”

“Well thanks, I’ll try that.” A log stretch of silence followed, she tried to discern what the tingling sensation was in her belly. It was similar to the anticipation of her first date, as she pulled that memory out of the back of the closet.

Good lord, you don’t even know this man.
She blinked her way back to reality.

“Uh, yeah, so about the mail?”

“I’ll stop by and pick it up tomorrow. No sense in you wasting a stamp or more time, by putting it through the mail again.”

She wanted to tell him it was no trouble to do that. On the other hand, she wanted to get a look at the guy whose voice was like honey butter on cornbread.

“That’d be fine.” She heard the line disconnect without a goodbye. Raising her brows, she glanced at the buzzing receiver in her hand, and returned it to the cradle, puzzled why her palms should be sweating.

Chapter Three

Gabe couldn’t remember when watching someone eat a strawberry sent his libido into a tailspin. Fortunately, he was able to grasp the watermelon he’d been holding, before it fell in the bin and cracked the other melons. He considered maybe the long drought of dating in his life touched off the erotic thoughts as he watched the juice trickle down the strange woman’s chin.

Regardless, he knew he wanted to find out more about her. Maybe she was new, maybe just passing through. A lot of tourists come through these parts in the summer to shop the tiny antique shops in the area.

Gabe bit into another slice of melon and caught the juice on his chin with his finger.

“Still don’t know why you’d buy a whole watermelon knowing we don’t have a refrigerator to put the dern thing in.” Merle bit off another piece of the red fruit and promptly spit the seed in the wastebasket. They sat in the office of the gas station, with the melon propped between them on the desk. A flat plastic container for tools scrubbed clean with disinfectant served as a buffet tray.

The crickets outside stirred a lazy familiarity within Gabe and for a moment he wished he were sitting on the old front porch swing of his farmhouse. It was the perfect night for it. He breathed in deeply, imagining freshly mowed hay. Instead, he smelled watermelon mixed with the sharp tangy scent of gasoline.

“I just felt like watermelon, is that a crime?” Gabe wiped his chin with the palm of his hand. The juice made her image pop again into his head. He swallowed hard taking a few seeds down his throat.

“You’re supposed to spit those out.” Merle reprimanded.

Gabe leveled him a look. “Eat up, we don’t have anywhere to store this.”

Merle shook his head and reached for another slice. “And you’re the guy with the degree.”

* * *

Tess awoke to a dull muted pounding outside her window. She rubbed her knuckles over her closed eyelids and tried to assimilate where the alien noise came from.
Surely the birds out here in the country weren’t that loud?

More insistent, the pounding issued again and she realized it was coming from her front door downstairs.

She tossed the quilt off and swung her feet to the cold hardwood bedroom floor, while attempting to call out in a gravelly morning voice. “I’m coming, keep your shirt on.” Coughing she cleared her throat, then stopped and held onto the bedroom doorframe to balance her equilibrium. She scolded herself mentally for staying up until all hours sifting through the homeowner magazines, and old house restoration catalogs. The long hours had taken their toll. Granted she’d also anticipated sleeping in this morning, since it was the weekend. She blinked, refocused on the stairs, and groped her hands along the banister railing to the bottom. The knocking issued once again.

“Good Lord, I’m comin’.” She shook her head in disgust. For someone making a call before dawn on a Saturday morning, they sure were impatient. Something in her muddled thoughts struck a familiar chord.

Pulling open the beveled glass front door, only the wooden screen stood between her and the formidable man who stared openly at her. It was then she realized too late, she was not exactly dressed for visitors.

She followed the path of his gaze from her red flannel boxers to her suddenly skimpy tank top. Trying not to blush at the fact that she wore no bra, she decided this was her house. Women often dressed like this. She’d simply play it down.

“Tess Graham?”

Her insides warmed instantly. She didn’t recall ordering a voice that would melt over muffins for breakfast, but she wasn’t complaining. Play it down, she reminded herself.

“What time is it?” She yawned, holding her hand over her mouth.

“Seven-thirty, ma’am.” His manner was soft, a lot like the quilt she’d just left. Tess blinked again.
Funny, the softness of his voice didn’t seem to fit the size of the man.

“In the morning?” She narrowed her gaze and noticed the glittering darkness of his brown eyes beneath the black Stetson that he wore. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and had a flannel shirt thrown on as though he’d grabbed it as an afterthought.

Tess’s eyebrow raised a fraction. His well-worn jeans gave new meaning to the term ‘designer fit.’ Despite her irritation at being awakened at this ungodly hour, Tess had to admit, from her initial assessment, that the man was not at all unpleasant to look at first thing in the morning. Besides, that Stetson looked vaguely familiar.

“Gabe Russell?” She frowned suddenly realizing
he
was the same man she’d seen in the store.

He tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s Saturday.” Perhaps he’d just forgotten most people sleep in on weekends.

A sudden shy smile appeared on his face, packing a caffeine punch to her system akin to the aroma of a new bag of coffee beans.

He glanced away, looking down at his boot. “If this is a bad time.” Stuffing his hands in his worn jeans, he glanced at her with a charming smile. One she had a feeling wasn’t nearly as innocent as it looked.

“It’s Saturday.” Certainly, that should explain everything.

His grin grew a little wider and he chuckled. “You’re not a country girl, are you?”

She winced with the admission. “Does it show that bad?”

He met her gaze, holding it captive and she swore she saw a twinkle of mischief in those black orbs. Maybe it was the lack of caffeine to her brain cells. He glanced at the floor and gave her a boyish grin. “‘Fraid so, but in all the right places.”

That
was a fine wake up call. Tess stepped back in surprise. She grabbed the doorknob, as her feet seemed to lose their ability to hold her in place. “And here I thought that only city boys delivered clever lines.” She peered over his shoulder seeing a large black pickup sitting in her gravel lane. This was getting more and more interesting by the minute. “I’d say this deserves a cup of coffee, how about it…. Was it, Gabe?”

Tess pushed her fingers through her hair, amazed she felt oddly at ease with this stranger. On the contrary, it surprised her that his voice and the man himself were such an intriguing package--not to mention ruggedly hot. She reminded herself; again, she wasn’t looking for entanglements, even if he was a handsome cowboy—especially with a handsome cowboy. She’d made up her mind. Given that, what harm was there in having one cup of coffee with Mr.
Espresso
eyes.

He paused for a moment before he responded. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble, sure. Thanks.” He pushed his hat up and held her with a curious gaze.

No more curious than she felt, for sure.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the porch. I’ll go get dressed and then I’ll get us some coffee.” She stepped back and closed the solid door wondering when she’d gotten so brazen as to invite a total stranger to wait while she dressed. Justifying the jitters in her stomach as hunger pangs, she ran up the stairs two at a time.

* * *

It was the same woman he’d seen in town.
Seeing her up close in a baby-tee and flannel boxers was almost worth the ribbing he’d taken from Merle when he came out of the store carrying a twelve pound slightly cracked watermelon on his shoulder.

There’d been a couple of times he’d have sworn she was looking at him at the store, but after a few minutes, he’d lost what little nerve he had to introduce himself. He had no idea she lived here, which stirred up a whole lot of strange sensations.

He sat down hearing the familiar metal squeak of the porch swing’s chain, giving under his weight. The sound brought back memories of days gone by. Simpler times, times that held a special place in his heart.

Gabe squinted as he gazed over the lush green fields and wondered if his pumpkins were blossoming out behind the barn. He’d not been back to water them, but the rain had been plentiful this past spring and summer, so maybe—

He dropped his hat on the porch beside him and closed his eyes as he smoothed back his hair. Those times were long gone now. This used to be
his
place. This porch swing is where he came to think. The place where he came to get right with the world and cool down from his frustrations of putting his life on hold to care for an ailing father.

The creak of the screen door broke through his thoughts and he turned to see Tess smile as she came out the door. Her face looked freshly scrubbed and apparently, her idea of ‘getting dressed’ was to throw a sweatshirt on over her boxers. Not that he noticed particularly, except what the navy color did to her luminous eyes.

“Cream or sugar?” She held open the door with her foot, her smile friendly as though they’d known each other a long time. It didn’t seem she was the least bit concerned entertaining a stranger in her home (correction
his
home) Maybe she was one of those women who’d taken  those self-defense classes.

“Mr. Russell?”

Her voice interrupted his thoughts. His gaze shot to hers, meeting her curious expression.

“A little milk if it’s not too much trouble.”

Tess shrugged. “No problem.” She let the screen door slam behind her. “Oh!”

He looked toward the door, hearing her voice from inside.

“Here’s the reason you came,” she returned, padding barefoot across the porch. “You’ve got mail.”

She held out three envelopes and it wasn’t until the door slammed a second time, that he realized his hand was suspended in midair. He blinked, trying to refocus his thoughts from the gentle sway of her flannel-wrapped backside as she walked back to the door. He had to get a grip or else he might scare the poor woman, and if not her, he was doing a damn good job on himself.

Frowning, he sighed and flipped through the letters. “Get more money fast. Need help with extra bills?” He wanted to tear them up in a million pieces and stuff them down the throats of the heartless bastards that evicted him from his home. Gabe’s teeth ground under the stress of his jaw.

“You look like a man deep in thought.”

His gaze darted to hers. He realized he’d been so deep in frustration, he’d not heard her return. She carried two mugs of steaming coffee.

“Here you go.” She smiled, and it caused her nose to wrinkle on one side. He nearly missed accepting the cup from her.

“Thanks, a lot on my mind, I guess,” He blew across the top of his cup, trying valiantly to ignore the soft curve of her thigh as she leaned against the porch rail.

“Oh geez, I’m sorry.” He popped out of the swing like a jack-in-the-box, hovering above her. “This is your porch swing.”

She smiled, slow and easy, those brilliant blue eyes softening. “It’s okay, have a seat.”

Damn, he was having a difficult time ignoring this woman’s amiable nature. He did not expect the tenant that rode in on his misfortune to be quite so pleasant. What did she know about him anyway? Did she have any conscience about the fact that she sat on the very porch railing he and his father built years ago? Gabe held her gaze trying to see if she was mocking him.

“You’re sure?” His gaze moved to her lips blowing the steam from her coffee, and quickly pulled back to her catch her soft smile.

“You look like maybe you need it.” Her eyes were the color of the travel commercials beckoning you to swim in some pristine tropical blue water.

“Need what?” Gabe’s throat, not to mention other areas, tightened. He swallowed against the parched feeling in his throat, scratching at his shirt collar.

“The swing. I find it’s kind of a nice place to think things through.”

She shrugged a shoulder and the oversized sweatshirt dipped, revealing the pale white flesh beneath. He nodded unable to understand what was suddenly happening to him. Maybe being around Mrs. Crane and her advances made him realize how long it’d been since he held a woman in his arms, and felt the intimate contrast of gentle curves to his body.

Gabe reached behind him and found the arm of the swing. He lowered himself slowly, keeping his focus on his cup.

“So what is it you do, Mr. Russell?” She peered at him over the rim of her cup.

“Odd jobs mostly these days.” He glanced to the floor watching a ladybug skitter along toward Tess’s big toe. Not an all-together bad place to be, he thought, then quickly pushed it away.

“I heard you were good with your hands—uh, that you were a good carpenter.”

Gabe looked up and met her wide-eyed look. The corner of his mouth turned up, suppressing a smile to her face turning crimson.

She turned on her heel and headed toward the far end of the porch.

“Well that’s what your friend Travis said, anyway.” Her laugh was light, carefree and he wondered how long it had been since he’d heard a heart so very much alive. He watched her walk away and in spite of himself, he grinned.

“He said that, huh?”

She turned, apparently seeing his grin and blushed again, making him curious as to why she was so nervous around him. Turning away, she continued.

“I could use some help around here. Like I said, I couldn’t pay you much, but I am starting a new job in another week.” She glanced at him with a shy smile, “Well a promotion really.” She hurried on as if not wanting any lull to occur in the conversation. “There’s some repair to be done to the barn.”