Blossom Street Brides

by Debbie Macomber

  “She thought I was Margaret,” Lydia said, as she removed her sweater and tucked away her purse. “The oddest thing has been happening,” she said, coming into the kitchen. The pot on the stove boiled furiously. She reached over and turned off the burner while Brad removed the strainer from the lower cupboard and set it in the sink.

  “What’s that?” he asked, steam rising from the cooked pasta as he carried the boiling pot to the sink and drained off the liquid.

  “Someone is leaving baskets with knitting needles and yarn around town with a note asking people to knit for the homeless.”

  “Really?”

  “The yarn is apparently from my shop.”

  Her husband was preoccupied with mixing the sauce and the noodles together and setting it on the table.

  Lydia brought out the silverware. “Will you keep an eye out for one of these knitting baskets?”

  Brad looked up at her, paused, and blinked, and Lydia guessed that the entire conversation had gone directly over his head.

  “What was that, sweetie?”

  “Never mind,” she said, grinning. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Cody!” Brad shouted. “Dinner.”

  This was her life, Lydia mused, and it was good.

  Chapter Eight

  Max was exhausted, butt-sore, and ecstatic.

  He’d followed Bethanne home from the yarn store on his bike and parked it in the empty slot in her garage. Other than a few items of clothing, he’d packed light. From the trips he’d made to Seattle since their marriage, he kept enough of a wardrobe at Bethanne’s not to worry about bringing much with him.

  Bethanne waited for him by the garage door that led into her kitchen. Her eyes were all over him as though even now she couldn’t believe he was with her. Max’s feelings matched hers, although he felt they needed to discuss a number of issues. With this trip, he wanted to settle the matter with her ex-husband once and for all.

  While this house was the one Bethanne had once shared with Grant, Max wasn’t comfortable with her ex-husband stopping by anytime he pleased. He might be exaggerating, but it seemed Grant found an excuse to connect with Bethanne nearly every day. It had gotten out of hand, and if she didn’t recognize it, he did.

  “I still can’t believe you rode all those hours to be here,” Bethanne said, as she stepped into the kitchen and turned off the security alarm.

  “I can’t, either.” He waited until they were inside the house before he brought his wife into his arms and kissed her with both hunger and need. She came warm and willing into his embrace, and his doubts fled. Bethanne loved him. She’d chosen to marry him.

  When the kiss ended, they simply looked at each other.

  With her arms looped around his neck, she leaned her head back. “Have you had dinner?”

  “No.” In his eagerness to reach his wife, Max had barely stopped for anything more than fuel and water. At some point midway through Oregon, Rooster convinced him to pause long enough to eat a sandwich, which he’d done, but that had been hours earlier.

  “Me, neither.”

  “Do you want to go out?” Max felt obliged to ask.

  “No. Let me check what I’ve got here.”

  Max wasn’t eager to head out to a restaurant, either, and was grateful Bethanne felt the same way. As it was, he was half dead on his feet. He followed his wife into the main part of the kitchen. He sat down at the counter while she rummaged through the refrigerator.

  “It’s either a chicken taco salad—”

  “Anything.” He wasn’t picky. Cocking his head, he enjoyed the view of Bethanne bending over while she sorted through the refrigerator drawers. She had a mighty fine-looking derriere.

  “I could make us veggie burgers.”

  “No, thanks.” He was a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. “I prefer real meat.”

  “Really.” She turned around and braced her hands on her hips. “You ate a veggie burger the last time you were here.”

  “That was a veggie burger?” Max remembered it distinctly. He’d complimented Bethanne on it. She’d cut up thick slices of tomato and thin slices of onion, added pickled jalapeños along with melted cheese and fried bacon. They’d planned to eat out on the deck, but it’d started to drizzle so they’d stayed in the kitchen. Afterward they’d watched a movie and she’d sat in his lap. All too soon he lost interest in the movie as they got involved in each other. Taking him by the hand, Bethanne had led him up the stairs to the bedroom.

  “As I recall, you didn’t complain about the veggie burger then.”

  “You distracted me.”

  “It seems to me I could easily distract you again,” she teased.

  “Without hardly trying,” Max assured her, chuckling softly.

  “Veggie burger or chicken taco salad?”

  “Veggie burger,” he decided. “Do you want me to slice the tomatoes and onions?”

  “Please.” Bethanne brought what she needed out of the refrigerator and set it on the countertop while Max got out the cutting board and knife.

  He didn’t want to start off their time together on a negative note, but this thing with Grant burned in his chest like a hot coal fresh from the fire.

  Hoping to casually bring up the subject, he asked, “Have you talked to Grant today?”

  “No. What makes you ask?”

  The slight edge in her voice didn’t escape his notice. “No particular reason.”

  Bracing her hands against the edge of the kitchen counter, she stared him down. “I don’t want you to waste energy on being jealous over Grant when there’s no reason.”

  “I’m not jealous; I’m concerned.”

  “You don’t need to be. I’ve got this.”

  The last thing Max wanted was for them to continue the argument that had brought him to Seattle in the first place. “Then I’ll leave the matter in your capable hands.”

  Max saw the tension leave her shoulders.

  “Thank you.”

  Bethanne rewarded him with a probing kiss that he felt all the way to the bottom of his feet. “I’m thinking,” he said, still breathless, his eyes closed, “that we might want to delay dinner.”

  “We have plenty of time for what you’re thinking, big boy. You’re starving, and so am I.”

  Max chuckled, and, drawing in a stabilizing breath, he continued with the task at hand.

  “Where’s Rooster staying?” she asked, as she placed bacon in the frying pan.

  “In a hotel somewhere in the downtown area.”

  “He’s a good friend.”

  Rooster had repeatedly proved his loyalty and friendship. “I know of none better.”

  She paused and looked to Max. “Why do you think he’s never married?”

  Max hadn’t really given the matter much thought. “Can’t really say. His parents are both gone, and he looked after them while in his late twenties and early thirties. The truth is, I think he’s a bit shy.”

  “Rooster?”

  “Looking at him, you’d never guess that, would you? I suspect he just hasn’t found the right woman; when he does, he’ll make his move.”

  Bethanne sighed, and now that the onions and tomatoes were sliced, Max moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “What was the sigh about?” he asked, kissing the side of her neck.

  “I’m a romantic.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  “Max, you’re sending chills down my arms.”

  “Good.” He ran his hands down the length of her arms, and continued kissing the side of her neck, savoring this time with her. What a shame they couldn’t be together like this every evening, working in the kitchen side by side, listening to music or the news. Simply spending time with each other.

  “I’d like to see Rooster married with his own family one day.”

  Resting his chin on Bethanne’s shoulder, Max mulled over her words. “So would I.”

  “Do you want me to set him up?” she asked. “In my circ
le of friends I know several single women who—”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Max said, cutting her off. “Rooster isn’t the kind of guy who’s interested in a blind date. It would be better to leave matters just as they are.”

  “If you think that’s for the best, then I will.” She removed the fried bacon from the pan and set it to drain on a paper towel before turning off the burner. “All I want is for Rooster to be happy.”

  “He’ll find his own happiness the same way I did mine,” Max assured her.

  Together they were assembling the veggie burgers when unexpectedly the front door opened. To the best of Max’s knowledge, it had been locked. Bethanne and he had come through the garage and into the house.

  “Bethanne?”

  Grant.

  Max stiffened. Apparently, Grant had a key to the house.

  His wife sent Max an apologetic look that did little to quell his irritation. Before now her ex-husband had been aware of Max’s comings and goings and had stayed away when he was in town. This evening, however, Grant didn’t realize Max was in town.

  “I didn’t hear back from you about the sunglasses,” Grant called from the living room. “Is that bacon I smell? You know I have a weakness for—” He stopped cold when he stepped into the kitchen and found Max with Bethanne.

  “Oh, sorry,” Grant apologized, slowing his steps. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “Max isn’t company.” Bethanne’s voice was chilly enough to freeze standing water. “He’s my husband.”

  “Right.”

  “I came for the family dinner on Saturday,” Max explained. “I understand you’re buying.” It was sure to tighten his jaw when Grant ended up paying for his meal. Max intended on ordering the most expensive item on the menu simply to add to Grant’s misery. It was what the other man deserved.

  “Of course. I’m pleased you could make it, Max. Bethanne told me you were tied up with a business dinner.”

  “I rearranged my schedule.”

  “So I see.” Grant turned his attention to Bethanne. “I take it you didn’t happen upon those sunglasses?”

  “I would have called if I did.”

  “Of course.”

  Grant smiled, but his pleasure was as phony as the man himself.

  “Sorry to interrupt your dinner,” Grant added. “Let me know if those glasses turn up, would you?”

  “I’ll be happy to,” Max said before Bethanne had the chance to respond. “Looking forward to the dinner Saturday night.”

  “Good to see you, Max.”

  The man could deliver his lines like a Shakespearean actor.

  Well, so could Max. “You, too, Grant.”

  Bethanne’s ex glared back at him as if to say he was giving Max fair warning. Max read the look in the other man’s eyes and held his gaze. Apparently, Grant didn’t know his ex-wife nearly as well as he assumed. Bethanne wouldn’t cheat on him any more than Max would be unfaithful to her.

  He stood frozen until the door had closed after Grant.

  “All right, say it,” Bethanne murmured stiffly.

  “Say what?”

  “You’re upset.”

  “I’m not, but I do have one question.”

  “Okay.”

  “Can you give me a single reason why Grant still has a key to the house?”

  Chapter Nine

  First thing Friday morning, Rooster brought out his computer, logged on, and spent the morning working. A number of times he was forced to refocus as his mind drifted to Lauren. He liked her a great deal, probably far more than he should. It wasn’t like him to feel this strongly about a woman after so short an acquaintance. One dinner. Sure, she was easy on the eyes—he’d be blind not to notice—but it was far more than her appearance that attracted him. He enjoyed hearing her laugh. She was intelligent and witty and sensible. Funny how much you could learn about a person after one dinner.

  Just before noon, in an effort to clear his head, Rooster took his bike out for a short ride. Still, try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking of Lauren. He found it a bit of an ego boost that she was interested in seeing him again. He was eager to make that happen. Lauren filled his mind, and every time he thought about her “husband list,” it caused him to smile. It’d embarrassed her to tell him about it, when in actuality Rooster thought it was a good idea. If he was in the market for a wife, he’d consider compiling a similar one, which left him considering the possibility of marriage. It was time—past time, really, that he considered starting a family. He’d had relationships before, but they had fizzled out, mainly because of the one bad experience, family obligations, and later his commitment to Max and the business. His failed marriage had left him gun-shy and hesitant. He didn’t like to dwell on his failure as a husband; clearly, the marriage had been a mistake on both their parts.

  Rooster stopped at a barbecue place outside of Kent. He had Lauren’s cell number. Although tempted to contact her, he didn’t expect her employer would appreciate her taking personal calls while working. A text would be better, but even then he wasn’t sure what to say. He was no good at this and was sure to bungle it. Rather than take the risk, he returned his cell to the holder on his belt, angry with himself for being so out of practice when it came to dealing with a woman.

  Back in his hotel room, he paced the confines of the room and decided he’d waited long enough. At five he punched out her number, and when she didn’t pick up, he left a short message.

  “It’s Rooster.” He didn’t figure there was much else to say.

  At six his phone chirped. It was Lauren.

  “I’m so glad you called,” she said, and seemed slightly breathless and troubled.

  She was glad, but it wasn’t for the reasons he’d hoped. He could hear it in her voice. Something had happened. Right away, Rooster suspected it had something to do with the man who’d stood her up the night before, when they’d gone out instead. “What’s up?”

  He heard her exhale. “I had a rather unpleasant confrontation with Todd this afternoon.”

  So he was right. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, so am I. Todd was upset that I’d left the restaurant. He said he’d arrived just minutes after I left with you.”

  “Really?” That seemed unlikely. “I thought the last text you got said he’d be another fifteen minutes.”

  “Fifteen minutes at least. Since then he apparently changed his story. He wasn’t happy when I ignored his phone call, either.”

  Todd had had his chance. From what little Lauren had said about the other man, being late wasn’t something new.

  “I’m just getting off work now … I’m not usually so forward. You insisted on paying for dinner last night even though I was the one who asked you. Would you allow me to buy your dinner tonight?”

  Rooster was stunned, and she seemed to read his hesitation as indecision or a means of putting her off.

  “You can always say no.”

  Rooster had no intention of turning her down.

  “Although I hope you don’t,” she added.

  “Okay.” He did his best to hide his enthusiasm. “Where would you like to meet?”

  “I know a great place down on the waterfront. It’s one of my favorite restaurants in the entire city. We might have to wait for a table, but I promise you it’ll be worth it.”

  “You’re on.”

  She gave him a time and the name of the restaurant. “I hope you like seafood.”

  “I do.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll see you in a little less than an hour.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  That gave Rooster enough time to shower and shave. He pulled out a western-style shirt from his saddlebags. It was wrinkled, and after shaking it out several times it didn’t look much better. He didn’t have time to shop for another shirt, so he got out the hotel iron and ironing board. He wouldn’t go through this for just any woman. The shirt looked substantially better when he finish
ed, and he quickly put it on and snapped it closed.

  His hotel was only a few blocks from the Seattle waterfront, so he walked down the hill toward Puget Sound, experiencing emotions similar to those he’d had as a teenager on prom night. The last time he’d felt this giddy he’d been in high school.

  The restaurant waiting area was crowded when he arrived, but it didn’t take him long to spot Lauren. Not for the first time, he realized it would be far too easy to fall for her. One advantage was the fact that he’d be leaving town early Sunday morning, riding back to California. Monday was Memorial Day, and Max and Rooster hoped for a more leisurely ride. If he spent much more time with Lauren, he would surely need to clear his head.

  “Hi,” he said, coming up behind her.

  She turned and dazzled him with a smile. “Hi.”

  Rooster swore her eyes were warm enough to melt wax.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He should be the one thanking her, although he wasn’t about to let her know that. “No problem. I didn’t have any other plans for the evening.” That was probably the wrong thing to say, even if it was the truth.

  “I had a dreadful day.”

  “Todd?”

  “Oh, it’s more than that. My employer is going through a rough time with her daughter, and she and her husband can’t agree on what to do. They argued, and Elisa left the shop and didn’t come back. Garry was upset.” She shook her head as if she’d said more than she wanted. “I don’t know what it is about you.”

  Rooster arched his brows. “About me?” he asked, unable to connect the dots. “What do you mean?”

  “I tell you things I don’t intend to say.”

  He chuckled.

  “I feel comfortable around you.”

  Probably because she had no intention of ever getting seriously involved with him. “Is being comfortable with someone on your list?”

  “No, but it’s something else I should consider adding.”

  Rooster was encouraged to know she’d found him helpful. It was difficult to tell if she was genuinely interested or if he was being relegated to the friend zone. Time would tell. As they waited for their name to be called, Rooster buried the tips of his fingers in his jeans pockets.