by Loree Lough
“I would’ve gotten that down for you, if you’d asked.”
Julia turned halfway to face him and fused those pale brown eyes to his face. “I’m sure you would’ve—if I’d asked.” Then, as if suddenly aware of her stern tone, she cleared her throat. “Don’t mind me. Guess I’ve just been on my own too long.” Facing the sink, she added, “Too accustomed to doing things for myself.”
What a shame, he thought, because something told him that inside this tiny woman beat an enormous and loving heart. Why else would she spend so many unpaid hours at the wolf sanctuary? He watched her fill the vase with water and pop the bouquet into it, plastic sheath and all. “I’ll take proper care of these once I’ve poured your lemonade.” Then, “So tell me, Doctor Thomas, do you like ice in your lemonade, or are you a purist?”
“Purist?” Mesmerized by the flutter of her long lashes, the way the late afternoon sun glinted off her hair, and the melody of her voice, he had no idea what she meant.
“Purists,” she echoed. “People who don’t like anything watered down or altered in any way from its natural form. Anti-changers, y’know?”
He wouldn’t have changed a single thing about her, but that didn’t answer her question. “You mean, like putting steak sauce on filet mignon?”
“Exactly!” She grabbed two sparkling tumblers from the drainboard. “I have to admit,” she said, rummaging in the freezer’s ice bin, “I don’t like steak sauce on filet mignon, but I do like ice in my lemonade.” As if to punctuate her statement, she dropped three cubes into one of the glasses.
“So do I.” If she kept looking at him in that warm, wonderful way, he’d need more than icy lemonade to cool him down.
She held out a glass, and when he took it, their fingers touched. In that minuscule moment, the soft warmth of her skin sent a tremor from his hand to his spine then straight to his already-pounding heart. “Uh, thanks.” He could count on one hand the number of times in his life he’d felt this awkward and clumsy—and have fingers left over. What was going on here, anyway?
Julia snapped off a couple of sheets of paper towels and spread them on the tile-topped table. When had she pulled out scissors and a broad-bladed knife? How had she plopped a big wooden cutting board onto the table without him noticing? He sipped his lemonade, hoping the chilly stuff would wake him up. Hoping that while he’d been off in la-la land, he hadn’t gawked like some knock-kneed boy in the throes of his first crush.
“Have a seat, why don’t you?” she said. She took the flowers from the vase, slid off the plastic sheath, and laid the flowers on the towels. “Those chairs don’t look like much, but they’re really quite comfortable.”
While she sliced the bottoms from each stem, he plopped onto the tightly woven seat of a ladder-back chair. Man, but she had pretty hands. Tiny and delicate, yet strong and sure and—There you go again, you big dolt. Simon cleared his throat. “Nice place you have here. How long ago did your grandparents pass away?”
“Good thing you were early,” she said, arranging the trimmed flowers in the vase. “They’ll last longer, now that I’ve had time to snip the stems.”
Had she planned to skirt the question, or did it just seem that way? Simon wondered.
“And to answer your question, my grandparents died just over a year ago.”
“And you moved right in?”
A small frown etched her brow. Concentration on the task at hand? Or a discomfiting memory?
“Not right away. Lots of paperwork to deal with. Figuring out what to do with my place in Lancaster. Trying to decide if I wanted to drive from here to there every day.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Just…stuff, y’know?”
There it was again, that strange sadness in her voice, her eyes. He felt like a heel, opening the door to bad memories, which made no sense, no sense at all, because how could he have known that such an ordinary question would wake unhappy thoughts? “Have you been a volunteer at the wolf sanctuary long?”
“No. Didn’t even realize it was there until about four months ago.” She met his eyes for an instant and winked. “All it took was one visit, and I was hooked. But that’s Matt’s fault, for introducing me to a new litter of cubs that first day.”
Simon nodded, glad that her sunny spirits had returned. “Yeah, Matt has a knack for knowing which volunteers will be good for the wolves and the sanctuary…and which come because it’s a novelty.”
“I agree one hundred percent. I don’t know who hired him to run the place, but whoever it was made a smart choice.” Her busy hands hovered for a moment over the arrangement, and she looked at some indiscernible spot over his right shoulder. “You’ll probably think I’m crazy, but—sometimes I get the feeling he’s…he’s almost like one of them.”
“I’ve thought the same thing on a couple of occasions. It’s like the guy can read the wolves’ minds, and—”
“—and they can read his,” they said in unison.
They shared a moment of quiet laughter.
“Great minds think alike?” he asked.
She smirked. “When my grandpa heard anybody say that, he’d pipe up with, ‘…And fools seldom differ….’”
Simon chuckled again, more because he hoped it would hide his blush than because he’d enjoyed the comment. Part of him wanted to find a dark corner where he could figure out what was happening here. Where he could at least try to understand what was making him act like a six-foot-tall goofball.
He’d done some soul-searching earlier, as he’d showered and shaved and tried on one shirt after another, looking for one that didn’t make him seem too fussy or too casual. The process reminded him of Georgia’s behavior before any dressy event, when she’d put on a dozen outfits before deciding on the one that would send the right message to their hosts and other guests. While hanging up the stuff he’d decided not to wear, Simon reminded himself to keep a safe distance from Julia and reiterated that her seemingly sad and secret past wasn’t something he cared to involve himself in—except maybe as a friend.
But here he sat, sipping home-squeezed lemonade and watching her poke daisies into a vase, as if he’d never spent a second with a grown woman in his life.
“There!” she said, clasping both hands under her chin. “Don’t they just look lovely?” She smiled, and for a moment, it seemed to Simon that he, not the flowers, had painted that feminine glow on her face. “Thanks, Simon. They brightened my day and my kitchen!”
Something told him that if it were within his power, he’d give her the moon and the stars, if they’d make her light up like this. “Glad you like ’em.”
Without missing a beat, she said, “And I’m glad William told you I would.”
Simon nearly choked on his last gulp of lemonade. After a moment of sputtering, he grabbed a napkin from the basket on her table and dabbed his eyes. “Sorry,” he croaked. “Must’ve choked on a seed.”
“No way, Jose.” She scooted the vase to the center of the table. “I strain my lemons twice before adding sugar or water.”
If she looked this gorgeous in the fading light of the setting sun, how much more beautiful would she look in candlelight? Simon finished the lemonade in one long gulp and then got up to put his empty glass into the sink. “Ready?”
“Well, sure.”
She stood blinking at him for a moment, as if she’d forgotten that the flowers were a precursor to their date.
Date? If he’d meant everything he’d said to himself back at his place, this was not a date. How could it be? Pals didn’t go on dates. Right?
“Just let me grab a sweater. The weatherman said it might get down to the low forties tonight.”
He marveled at her lightfootedness, for she barely made a sound even while running up a flight of wood stairs in high-heeled shoes. He’d doctored pet dogs that outweighed her by more than a few pounds. Odd, he thought, that even as tiny as she was, Julia wasn’t afraid to be alone inside the compound gates with nearly wild, full-grown wolves—and yet she seemed w
ary of humans. The only thing William had said on that score was that he believed somebody, somewhere in her past, had wounded her deeply—and he’d pray for the love of God and caring friends to help heal her heart and soul.
The Gundens no doubt were up for the task, but was he?
Simon drove both hands through his hair and shook his head. He had a business to run, and it ate up most of his waking hours. That, added to church activities and hours volunteered at the sanctuary, left very little time in his life for…
For what? For reaching out to a lonely, hurting young woman? Correction: A pretty and witty and—
“All set!” she said. “Want me to follow in my car so you won’t have to come all the way back here after we eat?”
“No way! The drive to and from will give me more time in your presence, m’lady,” he said, bowing. Simon, you’re losin’ your ever-lovin’ mind. She’d given him the perfect out, and he hadn’t taken advantage of it.
If he’d known his response would make her blush, he wouldn’t have said it.
Or would he, considering the appealing rosy glow it put into her cheeks?
She headed for the front door, sweater slung over one shoulder, skinny purse strap over the other. “Where are you taking me, anyway? I judge by your outfit that you’ve changed your mind about the Garden Gate.”
How could she have known that he’d decided the diner—while a wonderful place to dine—was far too noisy and crowded for a “getting to know you” dinner? Should he tell her he’d made reservations at the Rainbow Dinner Theatre, or surprise her?
Julia did a mini version of a regal curtsey. “Am I dressed properly for wherever we’re going?”
She wore a knee-length aqua sheath that skimmed her curvy little body, adorned with turquoise jewelry and low-heeled black pumps. Standing on the blood red foyer runner, backlit by a beam of sunlight, she looked like a model on a runway. “You look gorgeous,” he admitted, opening the door. And before he could ruin the moment with another stupid comment, he stepped outside. “I’ll just, uh, fire up the old roadster while you lock up.” And just in case she might not know what a roadster was, he pointed.
Man, oh, man, he thought, thumping the heel of his hand to his forehead, could you be any more ridiculous? How he’d made it from the flagstone walk to the car before she’d even pulled the keys from her purse, Simon couldn’t say. But from where he sat behind the steering wheel, she looked even tinier up there on that big wraparound porch, standing on her tiptoes to reach a deadbolt high on the thick wooden door. And when she whirled around and ran down the steps on those dainty little feet, his heart thumped wildly. Good thing you’ve got a medical degree, he thought, because otherwise, he’d worry if the old “heart leaped from my chest” adage had some truth to it.
“What time’s our reservation?” she asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
He watched her fiddle with the tricky seat belt and decided to give her a moment to figure it out. Part of him hoped she wouldn’t, because then he’d have to reach across the seat and buckle it for her, as he did for Levi and Seth whenever they tagged along on trips into town. “What makes you think we have a reservation?”
A quiet metallic click told him that Julia had mastered the belt on the first try, and it was all he could do to keep from groaning with disappointment.
“Well,” she said, flicking the blue silk tie draped over the rearview mirror, “guys don’t usually decorate their cars with stuff like this.” She tapped it with a pink-polished fingernail. “It’ll go great with those skinny blue stripes in your pants, by the way.”
“Thanks. Got the suit coat on a hanger.” He used his thumb to point into the back seat. “Didn’t want to overdo it and have you thinkin’ I’d gone all googly-eyed on you.”
Julia’s giggle filled the front seat with energy and joy. He would have reached out and squeezed her hand, would have told her that the last time he’d heard anything as musical was when a mother robin built a nest outside his bedroom window. But Julia chose that moment to adjust the purse on her lap. And tuck her thick cinnamon-colored hair behind her ears. And wriggle deeper into the seat. Just as well, he thought, sighing, because if he’d actually squeezed her hand, she’d have seen him as way more than googly-eyed.
Simon backed halfway out of her driveway then braked. “Oh man,” he complained, “I don’t think I left the porch door open for Windy and Wiley.”
“Windy and who?”
“My dog and cat. I have this screened-in room behind the house, and the hairy goofballs think it’s the same as roaming the great outdoors. Isn’t safe to let them run loose, so it’s the next best thing.” He turned left out of her driveway instead of right toward the Rainbow Dinner Theatre. “Mind if we stop at my place on the way to the restaurant? That way you can meet them in person while I explain their sad and sordid stories.”
“Not at all. Might be nice to see this big gorgeous house William and Hannah have talked so much about.”
“What did they say?”
“Oh, nothing really. Just that you have lots of—”
She stopped talking as suddenly as if somebody had slapped a hand over her mouth. He was about to ask her why when Julia tugged on the hem of her skirt.
“Aw, don’t go and do that,” he teased. “You have such cute knees.”
Though his focus was on the road, he could feel her watching him. From the corner of his eyes, he’d seen her sit up straighter and could almost see those enormous golden brown eyes narrowing as she assessed what, exactly, he’d meant. He realized he should’ve waited until he knew her better to crack a joke like that. He certainly didn’t want her thinking of him as a wacky pervert!
“It’s only about ten minutes from your place to mine,” he said, mostly to change the subject. “Nice little drive this time of year.”
“Spring is my favorite season,” she said. “The colors are so crisp and pure. If I had more time, I’d spend my days painting spring scenes.”
“So you’re an artist?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. I noodle around with brushes and canvas from time to time, but my work—and it’s a stretch to call it that—isn’t really ‘art.’”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“Trust me, the stuff I’ve done isn’t even beautiful in my eyes!” Julia punctuated the sentence with another giggle, sending his heart into overdrive again.
“So remind me. How long have you lived in Paradise?”
“Not long.” She sighed. “I almost didn’t make the move.”
She’d hesitated before answering. Because she felt he was prying? Or because of whatever almost held her back?
“Why’s that?”
“I’d been away from my grandparents for years before they died.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Hard to keep in touch when the state moves you from foster home to foster home.”
Simon’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Did he really want to know why she’d ended up in the system? Yeah, he did. Sort of. But he could find out later. Maybe. Tonight, he’d show her a good time. Get her laughing to keep the past at bay. By the time he dropped her off, she might just feel he was trustworthy enough to share a few details, with no prompting from him. Maybe there was hope for them, after all.
He swallowed. Hard.
Hope? For what? The girl was drop-dead gorgeous and, as his grandma used to say, smart as a whip. But with Julia’s baggage-filled history? A relationship between them would require work. Hard work, and lots of it. Since Georgia’s death, every woman his well-meaning friends had introduced to him had troubles from here to Timbuktu and, frankly, he had neither the time nor the patience—nor the training, for that matter—to help solve them. Ditto, Julia’s.
Yeah, he’d show her a good time tonight, so that when they ran into one another—and they were bound to in a community as small as theirs—they’d exchange smiles and polite—
Her quiet gasp interrupted his thoughts. “Is that…is that
your house?”
He followed her pointer finger then turned into his winding drive. “Yup. This is the place, all right.”
“Oh, Simon,” she sighed. “It’s…it’s just…beautiful.” She turned in the seat and looked into his face. “How do you drag yourself away every day to go to work?” In what seemed to be one deft move, she unbuckled her seat belt, opened the passenger door, and stepped out onto the gravel. “All it needs is a little snow and some colored lights and it’d look like a Christmas card.” She half ran toward the covered porch, giving no thought to her purse or sweater still resting on the front seat. “Well, c’mon, silly, take me inside and show me around!”
And all Julia needed was a halo over her head and she’d look like an angel.
Just a good time tonight, he reminded himself. That’s it. Casual friends from here on out. Period.
In every room, as she oohed and ahhed and commented on the antiques, the furniture arrangement, and the scent of “good old clean,” Simon repeated his resolution yet again. But his determination wavered when he opened the door to the sunporch and Windy and Wiley thundered toward them. The dog and cat he’d rescued from abuse and neglect, pets that feared all humans except Simon, went willingly and happily into her open arms.
As he watched in stunned silence, Simon fought the envy that bristled inside him, because more than anything, he wanted to be there, too.
Chapter Four
“Wow, that’s some welcome!” Julia said, squinting as Wiley licked her cheeks and Windy purred into her face.
“On my honor,” he said, hand forming the Boy Scout salute, “they’ve never done this before. Ever. Not even to me, and I feed ’em!”
“Just call me Snow White,” she said. “Everybody does.”
“I didn’t see any pets at your place.…”
“Don’t have any.” She settled into the nearest chair and was instantly joined by the animals.
“Why not? Allergies?”
“No.” She took a deep breath. “I’m just a big sap, I guess. One of those people who gets way too attached, way too fast. And if life hasn’t taught me anything else, it taught me that nothing is forever. People leave. Pets die.”
