Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  Julia crammed her hands into her back pockets and scuffed her toe along the faded wood floor. “I suppose we should have done these floors before I bought furniture.”

  Chad shrugged.

  “Did you try to talk to him?” she asked, looking up, obviously aware that even if he had spoken to Bobby, it hadn’t gone well.

  Rubbing his fingers along his unshaven jaw, Chad shook his head. “He won’t talk to me about anything but work.”

  Julia nodded, biting her bottom lip.

  “Becky boxed up a bunch of stuff for you. I left it by the door.”

  Turning to see a pile of cardboard boxes stacked by the door, Julia nodded, then closed her eyes, trying to ignore the silence radiating between them on a current of stifled energy.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she finally asked, her question hanging awkwardly in the room.

  Chad nodded, but instead of heading for the kitchen, he reached for Julia and pulled her to his chest, tucking her head under his chin. For the first time, Julia became aware of the vibe of pain and uncertainty that emanated from Chad. As her arms wound around his back and his heart beat under her ear, she contemplated the man who held her. She’d been so buried in her own drama and fear that she had failed to notice, let alone feel, the depth of Chad’s soul, the nuances of the person, even though she’d seen it shining through his eyes. Was that the thing that drew her to him – an agonized longing, similar to her own?

  As his hand slid up her back to cradle her head, she knew it was that and yet so much more. The sexual tension radiating off him was palpable and his strength and pure masculine warmth were like a toxin snaking through her body, leaving her weak and confused, yet wholly focused. Begrudgingly, Julia had to admit that the man had a hold on her on multiple levels.

  “I need to talk to you about something,” she mumbled into Chad’s chest.

  He leaned back to see her face, questions and trepidation in his eyes. “It’s never good when a woman says that.”

  Stepping away from him, Julia tugged awkwardly on the bottom of her shirt, as if she could shrug off the physical impact he had on her. “It’s nothing like that,” she assured him. “Come sit down.”

  As she crossed the blue and gray, slightly tattered Turkish rug they had placed in the center of the large room’s floor, Julia took a moment to survey her new furnishings, giving Chad a moment to stew.

  Her white slip-covered sofa was settled onto one side of the rug, facing the fireplace. Two wrought-iron side tables flanked the sofa, each with scarred and chipped, twisted, swirly legs. The wood coffee table only held remnants of the ancient whitewash paint that had once covered it, leaving the low table charmingly decrepit. A heavy, iron fireplace screen stood on the tile hearth, its white enamel paint grayed and etched with cracks but intact, and a huge intricate and mottled, antique copper-framed mirror rested on the mantle. But her favorite piece, a faded rosebud upholstered, sweeping, curved-back chaise, had been placed in one corner in front of two tall, ancient, louvered shutters that were propped against the wall.

  It took all her control to stay focused on her conversation with Chad and not to hurry over to dig through the boxes from the boutique and exclaim excitedly over the candles, bottles, printed boxes, and picture frames that would crowd the tables and mantle. She could already see the chaise and sofa piled with frilled and delicately printed pillows.

  Chad passed her to perch uncomfortably on the sofa, and Julia sat across from him on the coffee table, where she could read his expression.

  “This isn’t personal,” she started, then wobbled her head and tried a different tack. “I mean, I want to talk about business.”

  Chad’s eyebrows rose in question. “Okay.”

  “I’ve been thinking about starting— or opening a—well, a flower shop. Here...” She spread her arms wide to encompass the house.

  Still unsure what Julia was getting at, Chad was a bit surprised that she wanted to open a business, but he waited for the rest of the explanation.

  Julia watched his face intently but saw nothing. “I’m going to need some help.”

  “What kind of help? I don’t understand.”

  Shifting on the table, Julia tried again. “I’ll need flowers delivered to me from Pittsburgh once a week, and of course the flowers that people order will need to be delivered.”

  “Oh!” Chad exclaimed, her meaning finally breaking through the hormonal haze she cast over him. “Well, I’ve actually been looking to pick up another Pittsburgh run.” He rubbed his jaw in thought. “How many deliveries are we talking about?”

  Julia shrugged. “I’m not sure, I’ve only done a little cursory research, but I can’t do much more until I have a delivery service on board, both so I can get flowers I don’t grow and for deliveries. It will start out fairly slow, take time to get word out, and I don’t plan to advertise much, you know, start out small.”

  Chad nodded, the idea becoming clearer. “At United Package, we did a lot of 1-800-flowers stuff, are you planning to do that?”

  “I don’t know.” She frowned. “You will have to tell me all about how that works. I mostly want to do local, drive-by type stuff to get started. I’m not ready to face weddings and funerals and catered stuff just yet, if ever.

  “Why do you say that?” Chad asked.

  Julia shrugged. “I get overwhelmed.”

  “Hell, you can do this, I have no doubt,” Chad assured her. He grinned. “I bet Tara jumped all over this idea.”

  “It was basically her idea. Well, hers and Fergus’ anyway.”

  He laughed. “How did I know that?”

  “So anyway, how about I do more research and explore the idea? Is it something you may want to do?”

  Chad stood. “It sounds like an interesting thought. I have some room in the schedule, and like I said, I was already looking for a Pittsburgh run. So yeah, I’d like to hear what you come up with.”

  As Chad smiled down at her, Julia suddenly wondered what she had been thinking. Opening a business? Working with Chad around all the time? What had she done?

  “I have to get going.” Chad interrupted her thoughts, heading for the door.

  Julia stood to follow him. At the door, he turned and tugged his leather gloves from his back pocket, then paused to gaze into her eyes.

  Wondering if her hair was standing on end because of the look in his eye, Julia shifted from one foot to the other. “What are we going to do about Bobby?”

  Chad shook his head. “No clue.”

  “Right,” she mumbled. “Well, thanks for bringing the furniture.”

  He glanced across the room. “It looks nice, old fashioned, like the kitchen.”

  “That was the idea.”

  “I guess so.” He shrugged. Then with one last warm glance, he turned and went out the door. At the foot of the porch steps, he turned to pat Ringo and look up at Julia as she stood holding the screen open. “Want to grab dinner at the diner with me tonight?” He tossed out the question easily, as if it wouldn’t be their first date, or an announcement to the town, as sure as if they’d printed their intent to date in the town paper.

  Feeling the pressure, like some bizarre game show, Julia could feel the weight of the question. Time ticked past and the studio audience stared at her. Questions whirled in her mind as the plinking, thinking music wound down. She had to decide, this was the moment— was she willing to actually date?

  How many times now had Chad been over to her house? How did she really feel about him? She frowned. It was dinner -- not an elopement, she reminded herself. Her mind reeled back to him holding her a few moments earlier. A myriad of emotions fluttered across her face but were quickly replaced by a timid smile. “Okay, what time?”

  Chad’s jaw went slack momentarily before he contained his surprise. “I’ll walk down and get you around six.”

  She nodded and he grinned like a schoolboy, then tipped an invisible hat and strolled to his truck, whistling.

&nb
sp; Chapter Fourteen

  “Ringo, honey, it’s okay, I’ll be back soon,” Julia assured the anxious little dog as she gently pushed him inside to close the door. She locked up and then turned to meet the solid wall of Chad’s chest with her face.

  Instead of moving back to give her space, Chad rubbed one hand up and down the back of her arm and inhaled deeply. “You always smell so good.”

  Nervous and jumpy, Julia pushed past him, fumbling to shove the house keys into her purse. They tromped off the porch and down the sidewalk, Chad wanting to be close to her and Julia skittering out of his reach. Eventually, they settled into a comfortable pace as they walked toward the diner a few blocks away, and Julia could take a deep breath.

  “I’m not sure this is such a great idea,” she muttered, adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder.

  “Sure, it is,” Chad reassured her, but a tiny wrinkle twitched at the corner of his eye.

  “We may as well stand on the roof and yell to everyone that we’re dating,” Julia huffed.

  “They’d already know,” he replied flatly, then bit the side of his bottom lip.

  As Julia and Chad walked in silence, the late May evening radiated its charm, giving them blossoms bobbing on trees and birds singing cheerfully. At the diner, Chad stepped behind Julia and pushed open the door for her, his hand warm on her back to lead her through.

  Bells chimed, announcing their arrival, and Marge glanced up from behind the counter. Her customary greeting froze on her lips as she did a double take, her conversation with an old man seated at the end of the counter forgotten.

  The song on the jukebox ended, and all the diners turned in the now silent room to watch Julia and Chad walk to a table.

  As Chad pulled out Julia’s red vinyl and chrome chair, the jukebox clicked and clattered, changing records. The first few words of the song, P.S. I Love You, drifted across the room, as Julia did the butt lift and scoot maneuver so Chad could scoot up her chair. The other diners, one by one, turned their attention back to their plates and conversations.

  “It’s the Beatles,” Chad commented distractedly, shifting his chair up to the table, his eyes darting nervously between Julia and the other customers.

  She ignored him, seemingly engrossed in digging through her purse for something. Giving up in frustration, completely forgetting what she’d been looking for, she turned to hang her purse on the back of the chair, inadvertently catching the eye of a man and woman at the next table who sat staring, with their forks still hovering in mid-air.

  Chad cleared his throat and lifted two menus from behind the salt and pepper shakers. “So, what do you want to eat?” he asked, his voice a bit too loud.

  Jumping in her seat, Julia’s gaze flew from the staring couple back to Chad. “I—I’m not sure. What’s good here?”

  Pretending to glance over the menu, Chad berated himself for bringing Julia to the diner. Why hadn’t he taken her to Uniontown where they could have cuddled in the corner booth of a crowded restaurant where no one would notice them? Feeling the back of his neck burn, he glanced over to see Marge’s pink tennis shoes on the floor next to the table.

  He sighed inwardly and followed the pink uniform up to Marge’s face, which clearly but silently said, “I knew it!”

  “Well, well,” Marge stated, her tone speculative, a wide grin on her face. “What can I get for you two this fine evening?”

  Chad glanced at Julia, noting the misery written across her face. “I’d like a Coke. Julia?”

  “Water, please,” she muttered, not making eye contact with Marge.

  Pretending to scribble on her pad, Marge sized up the couple over her reading glasses. “You got it,” she finally replied, turning on her heel.

  Julia adjusted the salt and pepper shakers into a row with the container of sugar packets and the ketchup, then turned her attention back to her menu.

  “I like the meatloaf,” Chad said, glancing up.

  “Hmm,” she mumbled, turning the page.

  “And the tuna melt.”

  Julia nodded.

  “Sometimes I get the—”

  Marge plopped two large red plastic tumblers on the table and scooted the one full of water toward Julia. The aging waitress then tugged two paper-wrapped straws from her apron, tossed them on the table, and collected her pad and pencil. With one hip cocked and her glasses balanced on the end of her nose, she glanced between Chad and Julia.

  Chad watched as Julia’s neck turned red, the color flooding up into her cheeks. “Give us a minute, please,” he said, his eyes never leaving Julia, angry at himself for being such a dunce.

  Wishing she were invisible, Julia suffered the curious stares of the other diners. Shoving down her discomfort and battling to muster even a dab of confidence, she glanced up at Chad.

  He took a long drink of soda, then set down his glass. “Sorry, we should have gone to Uniontown,” he muttered.

  Julia straightened in her chair. “No, I’m fine, really.” She lifted her glass. “Have you had time to think about the flower—” The tumbler in her hand shifted in her grip, then fell to the table top, the water and ice pouring across the gleaming white table and directly onto Chad’s lap.

  His chair screeched back as he bound to his feet. He danced backward in an effort to miss the torrent, barely managing not to fall into the lap of the woman seated behind him, wiping at his pants and shaking his hands. When he looked up, all he could see was Julia’s stricken expression.

  “I’m so sorry,” she gasped, then bound up to hurry around the table. Plucking a handful of napkins from the dispenser, she frantically wiped at Chad’s crotch.

  “J—Julia—” he stuttered, still in shock, his hands and shirt dripping into the growing puddle at his feet.

  She continued to press the napkin into his jeans, desperate to help.

  “Julia!” he said louder, grasping her wrist in his fist.

  She stopped, frozen in horror, finally noticing that everyone in the diner sat staring at her hand pressed to Chad’s crotch. She stood and her hand dropped from Chad’s grip, her face turning so pale he was afraid she would faint.

  Snickers passed through the crowd of diners, causing Chad to scowl darkly. “Come on,” he growled, grabbing Julia’s arm with one hand and her purse with the other.

  Julia fumbled for footing as Chad dragged her to the door, the bell overhead dinging loudly as he yanked it open and thrust her out into the night ahead of him. Once they were farther down the sidewalk, out of the light pouring through the diner’s front windows, he ground to an abrupt halt.

  “Are you okay?” he asked Julia, pressing her back into the wall of the insurance office building and squinting in the dim light to see her face.

  She didn’t answer, just stood with her head hanging.

  Chad gave her a gentle shake. “Julia? Don’t you faint on me. Are you okay?”

  The panic in his voice forced her chin up, her eyes glimmering. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “Sometimes I drop things.”

  Relieved that Julia was okay, blood could finally reach Chad’s brain again. He ran his fingers through his hair, then sighed, and reached down to tentatively pull at his sopping pants.

  Julia slumped against the brick wall and a tear slid down her cheek. Glancing up, she could make out Chad’s outline. He was so handsome, so fierce, so— soaked. She waited for him to say something, anything.

  Finally, she noticed a slight tremor in his profile, and he began to shake, then a loud laugh rang out over her head. She thought he was laughing at her. Shame flooded her heart. She had no social graces. She was an embarrassment. Bitterly, she wished she had followed through with her plan to hide herself away forever.

  With tears on her cheeks, she turned to run home, but Chad grabbed her arm, swinging her into his chest. The front of her shirt and skirt were immediately wet, and she pushed against him.

  “Oh, Julia,” he murmured, hugging her tightly.

  She froze, her senses reeling
. “Let me go! I want to go home!” she gasped, still trying to escape his grip.

  Chad released her enough to look down into her face.

  Julia could see the humor gleaming in his eyes, glowing in the night. “Why are you so damn happy that I can never show my face in public again?” she sputtered, pushing and swatting at his damp chest.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, sobering. He released her enough to point back at the restaurant. “That in there—Julia, that is the first time in almost two years that people have looked at me without pity.”

  “Pity?” she gasped in shock. “They—I spilled my cold water in your lap! I’m a klutz! Of course, they pitied you!”

  He laughed out loud. “Honey, what they saw in there was a beautiful woman with her hands all over my crotch! They didn’t care about or think—it finally wasn’t about me and—ah hell, come on.” He grabbed her arm to lead her down the sidewalk.

  Numb from shock and wounded pride, Julia snatched her forgotten purse up from the sidewalk and struggled to keep up. “Where are we going?”

  “To my house so I can change,” he said, “Then I’m taking you to dinner somewhere that we can eat in peace.”

  * * *

  As they marched through the night toward the delivery office, her shirt quickly drying, Julia began to understand that to Chad, the incident at the diner hadn’t been about her clumsiness but about how he felt in public. She had been so consumed by shyness and then horror, she hadn’t realized that Chad had his own issues with being around the people of Smithville.

  Was it possible that he wasn’t upset with her for spilling half of a quart of ice water in his lap? Had he been uncomfortable about everyone looking at him before she spilled her water? Had the town’s reaction been about Chad and not about her? What had happened to him that caused people to stare? Was it really possible that she offered Chad the opportunity to move beyond his own personal torment, like Tara said?