by Linda Kage
Swept into Piper’s excitement, Mia laughed and pressed a hand to her racing heart. "No, he didn’t ask me out. I barely said hi to him. Actually, I think I scared him off with my … my behavior. But talking to him felt so …"
She sighed as energy burst inside her. Something that had lain dormant in her for over three years bloomed into fulfillment and sparked her skin with blissful tingles. It’d been so long, she was almost scared of the sensation.
"You don’t need to say any more," Piper murmured, reaching out to grip her hand. "You felt. That’s something right there."
"Yeah," Mia agreed. She tried not to be conspicuous as she pulled her fingers free. "That’s something." Dr. Higgins would be proud, anyway.
Vibrating with enthusiasm, Piper laughed and asked, "So … does this mean you might want to go out with me to the club tonight?"
"Oh!" Mia laughed. "No. No, I don’t think so. If I try too much progress in one day, I might short circuit and digress."
Piper continued to smile, but Mia could see the disappointment in her eyes. She bit the inside of her lip, wanting to apologize. But Dr. Higgins’ words glimmered through her head. Don’t apologize. You have every right to be exactly as you are.
"I’m really proud of you, you know." Piper flashed her a grin. "This was an improvement … no matter how small."
"Thanks," Mia murmured, still guilty for turning down her friend’s offer.
But Piper wasn’t about to let her worry about it. Wiggling her eyebrows, she followed with a wink. "And with that, I’m going to hit the shower and get ready for tonight. If you want, I’ll make a toast with my crew for you."
Mia grinned. "Sure."
"You’re doing great." Piper unconsciously reached for Mia, but realized what she was doing at the last moment and dropped her hand. Rolling her eyes at her own thoughtlessness, she grinned and headed toward the steps to enter the house.
Mia lingered outside, hugging the watering pot to her chest as she watched her friend go. She shook her head and let out a small sigh.
Two steps forward and one step back.
She glanced down the street both ways, hoping Drew Harper just might reappear. She owed him a big thank you for making her pulse race and her adrenal glands surge. It’d been way too long.
When she actually saw a car turn onto her quiet street and start her way, she sucked in a breath. It slowed as it neared her drive. Clutching the watering pot in a death grip, Mia strained to see who operated the vehicle. The driver pulled to the curb, cut the engine, and swung the door open.
When a middle-aged woman exited, Mia’s shoulders gave, and she started to turn away. But the woman in the tan power suit moved so determinedly toward the For Sale notice next door, Mia found herself watching curiously. Something tucked under the stranger’s arm caught Mia’s attention until she realized it was a "sold" sign.
The woman pulled it from her armpit and set it snugly on top of the for sale sign.
For a moment, Mia couldn’t breathe.
He’d bought the house? Already?
Wait. There was no way he could’ve bought the house so soon. She’d only spoken to him a few minutes ago. There’d been no time. And besides, he hadn’t even looked at the inside.
Disappointment surged through her. He wasn’t going to be her new neighbor.
As if she felt eyes on her, the real estate agent glanced Mia’s way and sent her a small nod of greeting.
Mia swallowed, suddenly ill. "It’s sold?" she lifted her voice, asking the obvious.
"Sure is." The saleswoman strolled toward her. "And to the cutest family you’ve ever seen. Mom, dad and two perfect children. First time buyers."
Looking down at her hands, Mia murmured, "There was a man here a few minutes ago, checking out the yard. He … he said he was thinking about buying this place."
"Well, I have half a dozen others for sale just like this one if he’s interested." The woman whipped a pamphlet from her pocket. Her eyes glowed intently, ready to make another sale.
"Actually, it was more the neighborhood than the house itself he liked," Mia explained.
"Oh, sure, sure," the saleswoman said. "I understand that. And I have other places for sale at addresses just like this block." She reached into her pockets again, but came up with nothing. Biting her lip, she frowned and lifted a finger toward Mia, silently commanding her to hold on a second. "Let me jot down a few of them and if he stops by again, you can give him the list. Okay?"
"Uh … " Mia realized she didn’t have much choice in the matter as the agent scribbled madly on the back of her first pamphlet. "Okay," she murmured. "If he comes back."
But even as she said the words, her fingers contracted around the business card still tucked in her hand. It’d grown damp from her sweaty grip, but she continued to hold it, wondering why wait until he did or didn’t come back?
What if she took the addresses to him?
Chapter Three
When Mia saw the house, she almost wrecked. It was spectacular. Pressing on the brake before she ran into a ditch, she peered out the front windshield.
Her lips parted in awe. "Wow."
At first, she couldn’t believe Drew Harper actually lived here. But she double checked the dog-eared business card and, yes, all the numbers corresponded. Besides, it was impossible to ignore the Harper Studio sign in the front yard that matched the logo on his card.
Located on the outer edge of town, the two-story farmhouse sat, surrounded by pastureland on both sides. A herd of cattle grazed lazily, lifting their heads to stare at her as she pulled into the drive. A small grove of fruit trees made up his back yard and someone had planted sunflowers in the field across the street. In full bloom, their beaming yellow and brown faces brightened the already sunny blue day.
As a whole, the place enticed her.
Someone—Drew, no doubt—had taken care of the old home. The white siding and blue shutters looked freshly painted. The grass was mowed short and the shrubs trimmed neatly, welcoming her.
Her smile faltered. Why would Drew want to leave a place so amazing? Why would he look for somewhere else to live?
Biting her lip, she parked and cut the engine.
It’d taken her twenty-four hours to work up the courage to come. And now that she was here, the trepidation mounted even stronger.
This was insane. The man had probably already forgotten their brief meeting yesterday. He’d probably already forgotten her. She should just go home and forget ever meeting him. Besides, it wasn’t like she could do anything with him even if he did return her interest. If he asked her out, she’d probably just say no. And if she did manage to accept, the date would no doubt totally bomb. Then she’d be forced to tell him—
Mumbling under her breath, Mia turned the car back on and closed her eyes. Fighting the depression swamping her for chickening out, she curled her fingers into fists and jerked her eyes open when paper crinkled in her grip. She looked down at the tattered business card.
She’d slept with the silly thing, clutching it to her heart all night. Dr. Higgins would probably drop her flat if he discovered how obsessive and neurotic she’d become.
Pathetic as it was though, Drew Harper’s business card gave her hope. It reminded her of the way he’d made her pulse race. If she left now, she feared she might never feel that alive again.
Whimpering out a moan of distress, Mia turned off the car and pushed open the door. She studied his assortment of flowers as she slowly made her way to his covered porch, thinking she could stay busy with a yard this spacious. She’d have fun nurturing those irises and tulips. She’d probably have to add some roses, though. A flower garden wasn’t a flower garden without roses, after all.
Realizing she’d just pictured herself living here, adding to his garden, Mia bit her lip again and forced the image from her head.
She stepped onto the veranda, refusing to think how nice it’d be to sit on the swing in the corner on a nice summer evening and watch the sun set.
The main door hung open in friendly reception, and Mia’s nerves settled some as she knocked lightly on the screened partition.
"It’s open," a man’s voice—Drew’s voice—called from deep inside the house. "We’re in the studio. Come on back."
Mia winced. We? The studio?
Oh great, he was working. She hadn’t realized he’d be taking pictures on a Saturday. Not wanting to bother him while he was with a customer, she hesitated. But he’d already invited her in—it’d be rude to flee now—so she blew out a breath and stepped into the parlor.
The wooden floor made her footsteps echo as she crossed the threshold.
She could immediately tell this was his place of business. Huge framed portraits flooded the walls and floor.
Curious about his aptitude, Mia lingered in the front room, studying his work.
The man had talent. Every shot seemed to catch its main subject in exactly the right pose. She grinned at the portrait of a toddler wearing nothing but a diaper, laughing as a Dalmatian licked his face. But when voices drew near, she pulled away from the photograph and hurried around the corner to join them, almost colliding with a woman toting a baby on her hip.
"Oh." she jerked to a stop and pressed her hand to her heart.
"Sorry about that," the woman apologized. "Didn’t see you there."
From behind her, Drew’s surprised voice said, "Mia?"
Mia glanced at him but her gaze was immediately drawn back to the child. Her vision blurred, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe so well. White, hot panic pressed against her lungs; she feared she might pass out.
But, it was a baby. She was less than three feet away from a tiny, little—
The infant gurgled on his slobber and grinned at her, reaching out a chubby hand.
Sucking in air, Mia blinked the boy back into focus. He was around half a year old with full cheeks, a thin layer of white-blond hair and bright blue eyes.
Before she realized what she was doing, she smiled. Her chin trembled; she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep tears from misting her eyes. Ignoring the emotional meltdown transpiring inside her, she held out her own finger and the baby eagerly clamped his fist around it. He giggled, and her smile grew.
Drew chuckled. "I told you he was going to be a flirt, Mrs. Franklin." He winked at Mia and slid his gaze to her finger still tightly gripped in the infant’s fist. "See there. The kid already knows when he has the attention of a pretty lady."
Mia’s face heated. Mrs. Franklin tucked her son close and beamed. "I have a feeling he’s going to take after his father in that regard," she announced with a reluctant grin.
Behind them, a computer on Drew’s desk chimed and a small panel slid open, offering a CD. Turning, Drew murmured, "There we are," as he extracted the CD from its tray and re-closed the door.
CD in hand, he moved to his printer where a label sat, already printed with the date and the name Franklin typed on it. Peeling it from its backing, he neatly pasted the label to the surface of the CD and eased the finished product into a paper slipcase advertising the Harper Studio with its logo splashed across the front.
When he finished, he turned back to Mrs. Franklin. "Here are your proofs."
Mesmerized, Mia watched him. His careful attention to detail impressed her; she found herself watching his long fingers as he handed the proofs over.
He understood how important the pictures on that disc were to his customer. They weren’t just photos of some nameless kid, but memories that would last for years, even past the boy’s lifetime. She had albums full of Lexie’s cherubic face.
"Call whenever you decide what you’d like," Drew told his client. "Then we can either set up an appointment, or you can just tell me your preference over the phone." He paused as if trying to remember if he’d left anything out of his spiel. Then he lifted a finger and grinned. "I gave you a price list with all the different packages offered, didn’t I?"
"You did. Thank you," Mrs. Franklin answered.
"Great. You’re all set then." He reached out to cup the side of the child’s head, like he was used to handling children, and smiled at the mother. "You and Parker have a good day."
He used his thumb to quickly caress Parker’s silky fuzz of hair and then dropped his hand. Glancing briefly toward Mia, he walked Mrs. Franklin to the door.
Mia didn’t follow but awkwardly remained where she stood, realizing how big of a mistake it’d been to come. She wondered what would be the best route to escape.
After waving them off, Drew finally turned back to her. Apprehensive, she stayed rooted to the floor, unable to move. Noticing she’d begun to twist her hands together, she immediately dropped them to her sides.
Something had changed. She could practically taste it. It oozed off him in thick, aromatic waves.
He didn’t look pleased to see her. He wouldn’t make eye contact. His movements were stuttered, telling her how uncomfortable he felt, and the tightness around his mouth spoke volumes more than anything he might say.
Shrugging as if suddenly self-conscious, he motioned toward the closed door and then jammed his hand into his pockets. "That was Parker." Yanking his hand from his slacks, he tugged at his collar. "He, uh, he was in here for his six month pictures. His mom seemed happy with the results."
"That’s good," she said, feeling lamer than lame. She should go. She should just leave before he—
He cleared his throat. "So …" Though she knew his grin was forced, it actually appeared to be genuine. "What brings you by? Decide you need your picture taken?"
"I …" Breathe, Mia, breathe. Sucking in a dry lungful, she glanced his way and started over. "You look really busy. I should just …" run for my life.
She finally moved, stumbling toward the door. But he leapt after her.
"No, wait." When his hand wrapped around her arm, she actually gasped. He immediately let go. "I was just going to say … Parker was my last appointment for the day. I’m not busy at all. What can I do for you?"
I need you to help me gain acceptance, she didn’t say.
Good Lord, how pitiful was she? If she told him she’d decided he was going to be the one to help her get through her dark patch, he’d laugh her off stage and start zinging tomatoes.
She really was pathetic. People didn’t make that kind of choice after one brief, meaningless encounter with a complete stranger.
She’d felt something though … something cosmic and colossal when she’d turned from her flower bed and first looked into his blue eyes. It’d been so strong, pulsing through her, practically screaming to get her attention. Her senses had started pointing and jumping up and down, doing that urgent pee-pee dance, insisting, "That’s him! That’s him! He’s the one."
Then again, what was she doing, listening to her stupid senses? If she possessed some kind of sixth sense that instinctively knew what was and wasn’t, then Lexie would still be alive today.
She swallowed and tried again. "I just came by to tell you the house was sold."
He blinked, looking totally clueless. "What house?"
"The …" Another huge gulp. "The house next door," she reminded him. "Next door to me. The one you were looking at yesterday."
Eyes widening, he yelped, "Oh! Right." Then he grinned and smacked the palm of his hand to his forehead. "I have no idea where my mind is. That house. Of course." His brows lowered. "It’s sold, you say?"
She nodded. "The real-estate agent stopped by almost as soon as you left yesterday. When she put up a sold sign, I couldn’t believe you’d bought it that fast. So, I asked her about it, and she said a family of four had purchased it already."
"Really?" he murmured and scratched the side of his neck. "Well, that’s … that’s too bad. But I’m glad a family got it. I’m sure they need it more than I do. As you can see, I’m surviving here."
As he motioned to the room at large, Mia gazed about her. Surviving? Ha. He was thriving here. Why, in a place like this, she could—
Blushing scarlet for once again thinking about living here herself, she zipped her gaze guiltily his way. Praying he had no idea what was going on inside her brain, she cleared her throat. "She, ah … The real-estate agent, that is … wrote out a quick list of other places for sale. She swore their neighborhoods were just as nice as ours."
She yanked the addresses from her pocket. Realizing she’d folded the sheet way too many times, she thrust it his way as if to dispose of incriminating evidence as soon as possible.
"Here."
He paused, looking taken aback. "You didn’t have to go to all that trouble," he told her, taking the page to slowly smooth out every nervous fold she’d made in order to read the note.
"Oh," she waved an unconcerned hand. "It’s okay. I don’t mind."
He scanned the addresses briefly, looking like he might actually be reading them, before he lifted his face. "Thanks," he murmured. "I appreciate this."
As he glanced away, something passed through his gaze. Guilt? Regret? She couldn’t exactly read the emotion. But it definitely wasn’t gratitude. His face had drained of color and he looked sick enough to vomit.
"Well." She self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back. "I should probably go."
He lifted his face. "Mia," he started as if he were about to confess something big.
She nodded, urging him to continue.
But before he could say anything, the front door burst open and another woman exploded into the house like she owned the place.
"Drew! I had an idea."
She was older than Mia by five to ten years and had impossibly curly, dark hair … just like Drew’s.
"Mandy," he said breathlessly and dodged forward quickly, just enough to stand directly in front of Mia, blocking her from the other woman’s view.
Whether he was trying to hide or protect her, Mia couldn’t tell.
"What are you doing here?" His tone was nervous, his words breathless and rushed.
The woman he called Mandy had been hurrying forward, a flurry of motion. But at his question, she faltered and slowed. Mia peeked around him in time to see her frown in confusion.
