Stepping outside, the late afternoon sun warmed her face, shoulders, and arms. She walked next door, intending on looking into the old laundromat. Through a dusty window she saw that junk upon more junk was piled floor-to-ceiling, from one end to the other.
“Uncle Hal,” she muttered inwardly, “what on earth were you thinking when you stored all this stuff in here?”
“He believed that it’d be worth something one day.”
Startled, Amie turned and found Tom standing several feet away. She placed her hands on her hips. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s not nice to sneak up on a person?”
He shook his head, still damp from its obvious washing.
Amie got a whiff of the soap he’d used. He hadn’t shaved his stubbly chin which somehow made him more appealing.
Sticking his hand into his pocket, he withdrew a set of keys. “Would you like to go inside for a better view?”
“No, thanks. I’m not quite ready to take on Uncle Hal’s stuff.”
“I understand.” Tom shoved the keys back into his pocket. “It looks like junk, but you’ll find a lot of decent furniture in there. It could be fixed up, if somebody had the time to do it.”
Curious now, Amie peered back into the window. “What kind of furniture?”
“A couple of dressers, a bookshelf, a baby’s crib, kitchen table and matching chairs, some of them have broken legs, though, and I’m sure they’re worth salvaging. But I know for a fact that a roll-top desk is in there somewhere, and, with a little elbow grease, it could be a gorgeous piece.”
“Solid wood furniture or particle board?” Amie looked up at him. He stood so close that an odd thrill passed through her. The scent of his cologne tickled her nostrils, although it wasn’t a bad smell.
A definite improvement over gasoline.
Tom’s hazel eyes met her stare. “Solid wood.”
“What?” Amie had lost track of the conversation.
“The furniture in there?” Tom used his forefinger to tap against the window. “Hal and I only collected solid wood. The cheap stuff wasn’t worth our time.”
“Oh, right.” Amie gave a nod and tried to catch up. “Good call, I mean, about not collecting cheap furniture.”
She cupped her hands around her eyes so she could get a better view of the mess inside the building. And then an idea struck.
“Tom, why don’t you fix those pieces up? You’ve obviously got the capability, from what I’ve seen of the antiques upstairs that you refinished.”
“I’ve been working at it here and there.”
Another idea took form: An antique shop...in her the hotel. Tourists loved to go antiquing.
“Are you, um, still hungry, Amie?”
“Are you kidding? I’m famished.” She turned and faced him. He was half-a-head taller than her five feet four inches
“Me, too.” He didn’t put extra space between them.
Could it be he enjoyed being close to her? She enjoyed his nearness.
“Well, let’s go, then.” Again, he pulled out his keys. “I’ll take my truck and you can follow me in your car. We’ll eat in Shawano and then get a motel room.”
Amie drew back. “Excuse me?”
Tom stopped in his tracks, his face reddening with embarrassment. “For you. We’ll get a motel room for you.”
Amie found his blush precious.
“I didn’t think you’d want to drive back to Chicago tonight and there’s only a small motel in Tigerton, the Rock-A-Bye Inn. It’s a couple miles north of here. No amenities and used a lot for truckers and football fans who need a place to crash. Even if that was to your liking, which I don’t think it would be, there’s the Johnson family reunion going on this weekend, so it’s filled up. Wittenberg is the next closest, about nine miles away or you could backtrack and stay in Clintonville. But I want to take you to eat in Shawano.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck. “Hope that’s OK.”
Nibbling on her bottom lip was the only way Amie could keep from laughing aloud. If she still had doubts about Tom’s integrity, they were all gone now. When was the last time she’d seen a man actually blush—and ramble on over her comfort? She smiled, swallowing the last of her mirth. “Well, thanks. That’s really considerate, and I’m all in with your plans.”
“Cool.” He appeared to relax. “OK, so I thought we’d go over the accounting tomorrow. I’ve got this year’s figures on my computer. I started printing them out but didn’t get finished.”
“Sure. Tomorrow’s fine.”
Tom began walking around the side of the building. “I’ll get my truck.”
Watching him go, Amie was reminded of the country singer her sister had been madly in love with some ten years ago. Maybe it was Tom’s outfit, the navy plaid, light cotton, collar shirt he wore with its long sleeves rolled to the elbow. The dark denim jeans hugged his narrow hips just right, and she didn’t fail to notice the brown boots completing the ensemble. Coupled with whiskered face and shaggy hairstyle, Tom seemed rather cavalier.
And Amie liked it.
A cow lowed in the distance, serving as a reminder that she wasn’t in Chicago anymore. And, of course, small towns had their own rules to live by. Far be it for Amie to impose her values on citizens of Tigerton.
Disengaging her car alarm, she climbed into the sports car. Within minutes, Tom pulled up in his fairly new black truck. Amie was amazed yet again, having guessed he’d drive some sort of jalopy he’d fixed up.
“Ready?” he called out the window.
“Ready.”
The trip took less than a half hour. Shawano was larger than Tigerton and sported a wide variety of shops, restaurants—and motels.
They parked their vehicles.
Maybe Tom’s ulterior motive for bringing her here, and taking two cars, wasn’t so much for Amie’s convenience, but to escape unwanted gossip in his hometown.
“I like this place,” he told her when they met on the sidewalk.
It was as if the guy read her mind.
Amie stood beside him in front of a small, locally owned eatery whose sign read: ALLEN & ROSIE’S KITCHEN PARKING IN REAR.
Tom’s grin appeared somewhat mournful. “Hal and I used to come here a lot. Their cheeseburgers are made with real beef and they make a mean chocolate shake—probably use real milk, too.”
Amie chuckled at his dry sense of humor before returning a bit of it. “Are you saying you don’t care for soybean and artificial dairy products? What kind of American are you?”
Tom’s expression indicated mild amusement as he opened the door for Amie.
Entering the establishment, she appraised her surroundings. Red-checkered clothed tables lined the small, but heavily populated dining room. On the other side of a spindled partition, stood an L-shaped counter, flanked by red and chrome swivel stools.
They waited by the door for a few minutes while a table was cleared. Finally, the waitress sat them in a booth near the café-curtained, plate window.
“This place is perfect. I love the quaint atmosphere.” Amie opened her menu. “I get tired of the large-chain restaurants. The same ones are in every big city and the food tastes the same.”
Menu open, Tom sent a glance her way. “Well, as I said before, the food here’s real good. They close at eight every night, so they don’t serve liquor. Guess that’s what I like best about this place. No liquor.”
“Really?” Amie glanced around and didn’t see a bar, confirming Tom’s comment.
“Disappointed?”
“Not even for a second.” She brought her attention back to him as he studied the menu. “I don’t drink, at least not anymore. I used to. That is, I’d occasionally indulge in a small glass of wine. But then...well, it was about three years ago when I gave it up completely. My decision wasn’t a result of a religious conviction, although God certainly showed me that bad things can happen when a person indulges—” Amie pressed her lips together and reprimanded herself.
“Forgive me, Tom. I’m babbling again.”
“No worries.” Tom lifted his gaze.
Amie was sure she’d seen a glimmer of understanding in those hazel depths.
Finally, he glanced back at his menu and closed it. “I think I’ll have the same thing you’re having. Double cheeseburger and a chocolate shake.”
“You won’t regret it.” She couldn’t swallow the laugh that bubbled up. “But I might tomorrow morning, when I can’t zip my blue jeans.”
Again, Tom chuckled. “I don’t have that problem. My metabolism still runs on high.”
“You are blessed.” Amie gathered their menus and put them on the end of the table. “I overeat once a week and struggle to lose the weight I gained from the meal for the next week. But, hey, one’s got to live. Life can’t be all raw fruits and vegetables.”
“I’d say it shouldn’t.” An amicable expression fell over his expression. “So enjoy yourself tonight, Amie Potter.”
“I will. Thanks.”
The waitress came and took their orders. Their meals were delivered in short order, piping hot off the grill.
Amie was impressed.
“Mind if I ask the blessing over our food?
Amie smiled. “Not at all.” She bowed her head and closed her eyes.
As Tom prayed, she heard his earnestness and reverence for their Heavenly Father, yet his tone sounded as though he spoke to an intimate friend. In fact, he did.
The knot at Amie’s shoulder blades loosened. She could trust Tom—and, obviously, so had Uncle Hal.
“Amen.”
She echoed the word, then gathered the double cheeseburger in her hands.
“I’ll bet you an oil change you can’t finish it.” Tom grinned before taking a large bite of his burger. A greasy mix of ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise oozed out from the other side.
“You’re on.” Little did he know Amie had consumed her fair share of double cheeseburgers in her life.
Minutes passed with little small talk. In the end, Amie had not only ate her burger but slurped up her entire chocolate milkshake.
Tom sat back with a groan. “I cannot believe you finished that burger. Most females can’t—or don’t.”
“You’re familiar with most females, then?”
“Not exactly.”
Amie sank her gaze into her plate so he wouldn’t see her smile at the berry hue coloring his face.
“I have sisters and I’m observant.”
“Ah…” Despite her efforts a giggle bubbled up and out of her mouth. She sat back, feeling as though she might burst. “Dessert?”
“After those giant burgers?” Crinkles formed above the bridge of his nose. “Are you kidding me?”
“Yes, I am.” Another little laugh.
Tom’s features relaxed. He scooted out of the booth and stepped toward where she sat just across from him. He extended his hand. “How about a walk?”
“Sure, but not a fast one.” Amie placed her palm in his and slid off the vinyl seat.
Tom paid the bill and by the time they left the diner, it was just past eight o’clock. A server locked the door after they departed. A younger crowd seemed to dominate the streets of Shawano now. Music blared from passing autos. The weekend had arrived in this northern Wisconsin town.
They walked on for several blocks, Amie keeping up with Tom’s long strides.
“Hey, you want to find a place to stay now?” Tom slowed his pace. “There’s a motel near the fairgrounds. I can drive you over.”
“Can we walk there?”
“It’ll be a bit of a hike. Are you up for it, city girl?” Smiling, he tucked his hands into his jeans’ pockets.
Amie leaned toward him. “I am if you are, country boy.”
“All right, then.”
They turned to cross the street, but a burly man stepped into their way.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Tomboy.” The facetious twang in the guy’s deep voice rang like a cracked brass bell.
Maybe the dude was a friend and he and Tom bantered like the two of them had just done.
The large man’s hair was a gleaming black as if he’d overused some greasy salon product. But his craggy beard was the color of charcoal. He puffed out his chest when he reached them.
“And who might this li’l lady be?” The man fixed his dark eyes on Amie.
She took a step closer to Tom. Except she still had to be polite, so she wouldn’t embarrass him. She fought down a wave of anxiety and forced a smile. “I-I’m Amie Potter.”
The man’s thick brows knitted on top of his bulbous nose. “Pleasure to meet ya. I’m Al Simonson.” The man threw Tom a curious look and smirked. “You two long-lost cousins or something? No girl in her right mind would go out with this guy otherwise.” He clapped a meaty hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Tomboy?”
Tom’s face turned beet-red.
An odd protective instinct rose to the surface of Amie’s being. How dare this guy insult Tom like that. She had to do something. The bully needed to go down—and go down hard. She took another step toward Tom and threaded her hand around his elbow. “We’re not related at all. Actually, I’m in town for the weekend on business, and Tom was nice enough to take me to dinner tonight.” She turned to Tom, wearing one of her sweetest smiles. “We met over at the gas station in Tigerton.”
“You don’t say?” The big guy’s jaw dropped slightly open as he stared at the two of them.
Tom’s smile reflected his embarrassment. “Al, she’s really—”
“Dying to go for a walk,” Amie cut in. “Come on, Tom. You promised me a stroll around town.” She looked back at the now-gaping Al Simonson. “Nice to meet you…Alboy.” She half-pulled Tom down to the street corner where she laughed while waiting for the stop light to change.
Tom’s expression said he wasn’t amused. “Are you out of your mind, Amie?”
“Probably.” She swallowed the last of her laughter. “If I embarrassed you, I apologize.”
Tom stared at the street light across the way.
“Please don’t be angry. That guy deserved a smart remark.” Actually, Amie thought he deserved a punch in the nose. “He insulted you. What a jerk.” Amie released his arm as they crossed the street.
“I’ve practically grown up with Big Al Simonson,” Tom muttered, “and I can’t believe what you just did.” He hurled a glance her way. “You don’t have a clue, do you? This isn’t Chicago, Amie. People talk. Al is from Tigerton and not only is he a large man, he’s got a big mouth. By tomorrow noon, what just happened will be all over town.”
Amie still didn’t see the problem. But if it upset Tom, then her retort wasn’t worth its result. “All right. Here’s what we’ll do. Tomorrow we’ll find Big Al and I’ll admit that I was joking. After that I’ll tell him that Hal Holm is my uncle. I mean, it’s not as if I lied.”
“Purposely deceiving someone is the same as lying.”
“But it was for a good cause.” Why did Tom seem angry at her? “That bully deserved the dressing down.”
They stepped up the curb. A few paces onto the sidewalk, Tom stopped in mid-stride.
Amie did too.
His expression looked as though it belonged on a man in misery. Tom’s gaze was out somewhere over her head, giving her a chance to scrutinize his features without him noticing.
He wasn’t at all an unattractive man. He wasn’t especially tall, but the dark and handsome part of the cliché fit nicely. And talk about considerate. Tom certainly was that. So why wasn’t he dating? He seemed like a fine catch—for the right woman, of course.
“Why did that guy say those things, Tom?” Amie kept her voice lowered so passers-by wouldn’t overhear. “Why did he say that no girl in her right mind would go out with you?”
“I thought I explained all this earlier.”
“You’re the guy least-likely to succeed?” She guffawed. “Whatever. And now I suppose you’re upset because a rude man from Tigerton saw
us together and he’ll peg me as the woman least-likely to succeed. Is that it?” A current of defiance shimmied up her spine. She lifted her chin and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I know differently, and I don’t care what anybody says. I’m successful and you can be, too.” Amie poked her forefinger into Tom’s chest. “If God is for us, who can be against us?”
Tom just stared back at her in reply, his expression unreadable.
Amie folded her arms. “I haven’t known you for more than a few hours, Tom Anderson, but I don’t believe that the entire town of Tigerton regards you as a loser. You’re not. What’s more, you could become anything you wanted to be.” She glanced up the street where they’d run into Al. “But if it will make you feel better, I’ll go try to find Al...and his baseball team. I’ll explain everything.” She swung her gaze back to Tom. “Will that fix things?”
“Maybe.” He narrowed his gaze and his chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath. “You know, I can’t figure you out. You go from feisty to fearful in a single bound. A few minutes ago, I could’ve sworn you were afraid of Al and now you’re offering to go find him and his baseball team and settle an old score.” He grinned, and one eyebrow quirked. “I suppose you’d take them on single-handedly, eh?”
“I’m a very outgoing, congenial person.” Amie’s response sounded defensive to her own ears. “But every so often I have these moments of...of anxiousness.” She turned to walk away, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “In any case, I’m more than able to take care of myself in any given situation. So, thanks for dinner and I’ll see you tomorrow. And I’ll find Al,” she added sassily over her shoulder, “after I check into the motel.”
Man, that guy has got to lighten up!
Amie’s heels clicked against the cement walk a few more times before she realized that she had no idea where she was going. She stopped short and turned around, slamming into Tom.
Her Hometown Heart. Page 4
