Surprised, he yanked his chair back several inches. Her entire aura dimmed, and he felt a loss. “What’s on the computer that you wanted to show me?”
Her face registered shock, at his words, too loud, and too abrupt, hanging between them.
“The layouts….”
“Oh right, the layouts.” His hands itched to jump in his pockets at his embarrassment.
She turned back to the computer screen. “I wanted to show you paint options. I got this new software and it’s really cool.”
Hoping to find an escape in her explanation, he leaned forward for a better view and got a whiff of her perfume.
“I’m working on the breakfast nook.” She pulled up a photo of a round pedestal table with two wood chairs. Behind the table was a cushioned love seat under a window, with a mirror on the flanking wall. All the parts of the room were white.
He nodded.
“Watch this, if I paint the walls and the window trim white… and the chairs a pastel green,” she tapped a few keys and clicked the mouse on the screen. “And the throw pillows shades of green, as well as the mirror frame…” She tapped more. “Then add some dishes and flowers to the table, all green, like those antique war dishes, you know…” She tapped her lips with her finger. “Jadeite, yeah, that’s it, jadeite…” Dishes appeared on the table, and all the items in the room changed color. Even the wooden chairs and throw pillows were mint green. “There, see how bright the kitchen is?” She turned the screen toward Justin.
It looked fine to him, so he nodded.
She waited, expecting more. Her nose wrinkled. “Okay, watch this.” She turned the computer back and clicked on the screen, then turned the screen back toward him.
This time the walls were sunny yellow, and the window trim, mirror frame and chairs were grey, and the dishes were yellow. The love seat was white with throw pillows in grey and yellow.
He glanced from the computer screen to Tara and back. “That’s pretty cool.”
She waited. Her fingers tapped. “Well, do you like it?”
“Yeah it’s nice.”
She sighed. “Which do you like better?”
He scowled. “Can I see the first one again?”
She nodded, tapped at the keys, and the picture reverted back to the green option. He leaned closer and scratched his head. “They’re both nice.”
“What about this?” She typed and hit enter. The photo changed back to white, then the walls were dark grey and the window trim and mirror frame white, but the chairs and dishes were soft pink. Throw pillows on the love seat were shades of pink and grey.
He leaned back with a thump. “Is pink really in your plans?”
She giggled. “No, I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.
The sparkle in her eye caught him off guard, and he pulled his chair closer. “Is there more?”
“Yeah, this one is my favorite.” Once more she tapped at the keyboard and the photo changed. The walls were now a cool mint green as well as the dishes, but the window trim was white, and the chairs were a deep aqua blue. Throw pillows lining the white love seat were shades of blue, teal, and rusty brown, which picked up the brown in the trim of the dishes.
He smiled. “I like that one too. It’s more…earthy.”
She nodded and logged off the laptop. “I’m glad we’re in agreement then, I just wanted to be sure we are on the same page.”
She stood and bent to unplug her computer and return it to the bag, giving Justin a view of her shorts as they stretched across her hiney. He wondered again if she had done that on purpose.
She straightened, caught the gleam in his eye, and glanced to her bag and back -- certain that he’d been watching her. A slight pause ensued but she smiled and ambled back toward him, with a sway in her hips.
Just before she reached him, she turned and placed one hand on the plastic curtain on the kitchen door. She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Can I see your cabinets now?”
Time stood still as Tara mimicked a model on The Price is Right, waiting to see what was behind door number three. It was obvious she had no experience acting sexy, but the charm of her awkward attempts warmed his heart.
Justin stood, breaking the spell. “Sure, let’s get to it.” He held back the plastic curtain for her to enter.
She wandered to the back of the room, inspecting his work where the wall had been removed. New sheetrock was hung and taped, making the back porch and the old kitchen one cohesive space. Cardboard was taped across the floor to protect the hardwood he’d patched, stripped, and sanded across the entry to the old screen porch.
She turned to him, her eyes bright with excitement. “You’ve done so much! Did you do all of this yourself?”
He only nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Her glow was melting the cool shell he’d built around his resolve. His composure was slipping, being here with her alone, and his desire was rising, forcing the blood from his brain to pump southward.
She froze and focused on his face, recognizing his expression. Neither moved or even breathed for a long moment. Tree branches scratched at the house, driven by wind and rain. Tara took a step toward him, and that was all it took for Justin to spring forward and fill the gap between them. Desperate and inconsolable, he grasped her upper arms.
She went limp with a liquid-eyed stare, pushing him further away
His teeth ground and his gut churned. “Why do you do this to me?” His voice was deep and gruff.
Longing and hesitation mixed in her gaze. His lips came down on hers, his tongue searching. Her fingers clutched at his shirt and her head tilted back to give him better access.
His grip left her arms, one hand pressing on her back, the other dipping lower to cup her bottom. Pressed firmly to him, she liquefied against his body. Her hands moved to his neck, then around his shoulders, their bodies a tangle of passion and emotion.
Suddenly, he jerked her back to search her face. “Tara, I told you, I can’t do this!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Do what?” she cried in confusion, her eyes filling with tears.
“Dammit!” He wrenched free of her grasp and stomped across the kitchen, scrubbing his hands across his scalp. “I’m not the man for you! Can’t you see that?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, as if to protect her heart. “I don’t, no. I— why?” Confusion, passion, and tears induced shivers in her fingers and lips.
He turned back to her, his eyes fierce. “I’m too rough with you. I’m— I scare you. I hate making you cry!” His finger lifted to catch a tear on her cheek, then he lurched back, spun away, and paced the length of the room.
“No! No, you’re not, you don’t!” She followed him, her hands flailing as she shouted. “You— you’re the only man who ever broke through my anger— my fear.” Her voice faltered. “The only one…”
He didn’t turn back to her.
Her hands came up to hide threatening tears.
Justin stood immobile, then glanced over his shoulder. She looked up, and his expression softened -- all but his eyes, which were glinting shards of steel. His biceps twitched as he struggled for control.
She turned and fled. Grabbing her coat and computer bag, with her hair streaming behind her, she dashed blindly into the storm.
* * *
Winnie tapped on Tara’s bedroom door. “Are you all right, dear?”
Only the storm answered by pounding on the roof.
Pushing the door open with a grinding creak, Winnie moved toward the bed where Tara lay sobbing. “What happened tonight?”
She waited but there was no response. “Honey, you’ve been so much happier the last few days, talk to me…”
Tara mumbled and rolled onto her back, hugging her pillow to her chest. Wiping at tears with the pillowcase, she sniffed and glanced toward Winnie. “I don’t know— I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
The old woman frowned. “What do you mean – do?”
“Oh, I just don’t know.” Tara turned her head toward the window, to the storm-tossed tree branches.
“What happened with Justin tonight?”
Tara groaned and rolled her eyes. “I was— I tried to be—” She grimaced and pulled the pillow over her head.
Winnie tugged at the pillow. “You tried to be what?”
The pillow flopped to her stomach, and Tara closed her eyes, her cheeks burning red.
“Come on, Tara, talk to me.”
She pounded the pillow once and bit her bottom lip. Finally, she turned her tortured eyes to the old woman. “You know… sexy. I tried to seduce him.” She sniffed and frowned. “But I guess I looked like a fool because he just got mad at me.”
Winnie’s head came back in surprise. “Seduce him! And he got mad?”
Tara sniffed and dabbed at her face with the pillowcase. “Yeah.” She sniffed again. “He said, ‘Why do you do this to me?’ and kissed me, hard, but then he just pushed me away.” Her hands pushed at the pillow and it fell to one side, devastation clear on her face as she recalled the moment.
The old woman’s eyes registered astonishment, and then a tiny smile hovered around the edge of her puckered mouth. “Did he say anything else?”
Tara rolled to her side and collected her pillow. “He’s so confusing! I want him so much ever since…”
Winnie waited, trying to be patient. Finally, she nudged Tara’s knee. “Since what, dear?”
She moaned and rolled to face the other way, dragging her pillow with her. “Since he found out about my dad.” Tears dripped onto her bed and into her ear.
Winnie thought for a moment. “Did he say anything about your father?”
Tara swiped at her face with the back of her hand. “Nooooo… he says he’s not the right man for me and he’s sorry, and that he scares me, and makes me cry.” She sat up and smashed the pillow with her fists. “He doesn’t scare me, Winnie!”
“I believe you,” the old woman assured her, tugging the hanky from her under her watchband, and wiping at Tara’s cheeks.
Tara sniffed and snatched away the hanky. “It’s like the very day he didn’t want me anymore, I wanted him.”
Winnie’s eyes roamed to the far side of the room. Her lips pursed and she turned back to Tara. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you wanted him because he wasn’t chasing you?”
Tara’s face went blank. “What? Why?”
“Yes, dear, once the pressure was off, you were free to feel anything you wanted, because you thought he wouldn’t make a move. You were in control of the situation.”
The girl considered the thought. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard!” she argued, but her gaze roamed to the far side of the room, knowing Winnie’s statement rang of truth.
Winnie nodded. “It may be, but it happens all the time.”
Tara pounded her fist into the pillow again. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, because he doesn’t want me.”
“Did he say he doesn’t want you? Because kissing you like that seems to be a pretty good indication that he does.”
Tara stilled. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “So, what’s his problem?”
Winnie picked up her discarded hanky, shook her head, and shrugged. “Did he say anything else?”
Tara stared off over Winnie’s shoulder, deep in thought. “He said he didn’t want to make me cry… and that he’s sorry. That’s all.”
Winnie patted Tara’s knee and rubbed the crick from her back. “Well, dear, I’d give it some time. Men tend to take a while to figure out what it is they really want.” She turned to leave, then paused. “What made you decide to be sexy?”
Tara scoffed. “Oh, that! I had this grand epiphany that I should be less prickly and accept change, and maybe I’d be happier. What a joke.”
Tapping her finger to her lips, Winnie considered Tara’s words. “My dear, I’m proud of you.”
Tara glanced up, tears drying on her cheeks. “Why?”
“Because you’re figuring things out.” The old woman tucked her hanky back under her watchband and walked from the room, leaving Tara as confused as she’d been before.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The pile of five-gallon paint buckets began to stack up in the living room as Tara rushed to her truck and back. Grabbing two more buckets, groaning under the weight, and biting her lip as they banged against her shins, she hurried back to the house as fast as she could.
After weeks of bad weather, the roof had finally been completed and the sheetrock was up. The crew had just finished the taping in the last bedroom upstairs, and they had been scheduled to paint, but now the barn was so far behind, nothing was certain. Every room in the house needed paint and there was no time to get it done. Even according to her worst-case scenario of the schedule, the painting had to be completed tonight, leaving only two days to do staging, or they would miss their deadline for the reveal and ribbon cutting.
Winnie had tried to soothe Tara the night before, reassuring her that somehow things would work out, but Tara wouldn’t listen. She was far too wound up. She’d spent the night reviewing and rethinking her schematic of colors for each room. She’d been out the door before sun-up, loading paint buckets in the back of her truck. She was now way past panic and had moved on to full-blown frenzy.
She hadn’t spoken to Justin since the night of the storm. He’d been working round the clock with his crews, framing and roofing the house, pouring concrete for the barn and theater, and completing finish work in the house. Tara had polished and buffed the new hardwood floors and covered them with taped cardboard, in preparation for painting the walls and ceilings, but she couldn’t start until the drywall mud was dry.
Knowing full well she could never paint the entire house in one day didn’t slow her down. She would find a way – everyone was counting on her.
As she lugged the last two buckets from her truck, she noticed Justin and his crew swarming around the barn. The giant red X still on the willow tree, but she shrugged them all off and returned to her task.
In the living room, she sorted buckets, grouping them by room and wall and trim. She grabbed two buckets and headed for the stairs, when a ruckus outside caught her attention. At first, she ignored it, but by the time she reached the bottom step, the clatter had grown to a low roar.
Plopping down the buckets, she brushed stray hair and sweat from her eyes with her shoulder and opened the front door.
Winnie and Becky were climbing the porch steps, each wearing ratty, stained clothing, and with wide grins on their faces. They waved. “Hi honey!”
Irritated that they had decided to show up to see the resort on the most horrible day possible, when everything was falling apart around her, Tara opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Behind the two women she could see a flood of people climbing from cars and trucks and moving toward the porch. Vehicles of all sizes were parked down the driveway, and more were pulling onto the muddy grass and under trees.
She saw Marge from the café and Mac’s wife and son. There were ladies who stopped by the boutique, women with babies bumping ahead of them in strollers, old men, and the teenagers who lived on her street. They all moved in a wave toward the house, laughing and waving and calling her name.
Horror and shame swept over her. The entire town must have heard that the resort was in shambles and had come to see. Her soul shriveled in her chest, and her heart stopped beating. Everyone she knew and had worked to impress was here to see her folly. She’d bitten off more than she could chew, and they’d seen it coming. All her years of effort were wasted. Her worst nightmare was a reality. She had failed them all.
Winnie came up beside her and took her hand. “Look, dear, they all came.”
Tara tried to pull her hand away and run into the house for shelter, but Winnie held her firm. Justin and the crew from the barn stood staring, wondering what was happening.
Becky t
ook Tara’s other hand and whispered. “They all heard you were in trouble, honey.”
Tara froze -- she couldn’t move. Her life was a misery, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear. She clamped her eyes shut tight, her chin falling to her chest. The raucous chatter grew louder, and when she opened her eyes, the crowd had reached the porch. A grey fog clouded her vision.
People clambered up onto the porch, calling out greetings and waving, oblivious to her pain. Marge marched to the front of the crowd, her hair piled high on her head in a paisley bandanna. She raised her hand to shush the crowd still pouring across the lawn. “Tara, honey, we all love you, and we’re so proud of you. Winnie said you could use a hand today, where do you want us to start?”
Tara’s mouth fell open.
Mac’s wife tugged a box onto the porch and pulled out paint rollers and pans, and her son passed them along to the cheerful crowd.
Tara reeled. With her breath still caught in her chest, she couldn’t speak. Her throat choked off, and tears filled her eyes. Her nose ran and the porch blurred as she clung to Winnie and Becky.
Feeling her go limp, Becky shouldered her way to the porch rail and sat Tara down. Choking and gasping, Tara could only watch as Justin came up the porch steps.
He smiled down at her and concern puckered his forehead for a short moment, then he turned and lifted his clipboard. “I’ve got the paint schematic, follow me!” Then, to his amazement, the town people cheered and filed behind him toward the door.
People streamed past Tara as Winnie and Becky supported her on either side. Each person greeted her with a hand squeeze or a shoulder pat. Even the babies waved their arms and chattered.
She had no response – shock had numbed her senses.
As the parade thinned, noise from inside the house wafted out the door and open windows. Winnie squeezed Tara’s elbow. Placing her withered cheek to Tara’s, she kissed her, then dabbed at her own tears with her hanky. “Don’t that beat all? They heard about the schedule and how the rain had been such a problem, and they just came. I didn’t know until we were driving out here this morning and saw the stampede.”
Hometown Series Box Set Page 21
