Oh. She had said that, hadn’t she?
“Thanks, but I can take care of myself.” She lowered her voice. “Jack asked me out for dinner tomorrow night. I accepted.”
His jaw slacked. “What about the kid?”
“I don’t know how to reach Missy, so I can’t ask her. You both get along so well. I thought I’d leave Emma with you.”
Huck took a step back and shook his head. “I’m not babysitting so you can go out on a date.”
Arianne crossed her arms. “I don’t see the problem. Unless you have another reason why I shouldn’t go.”
He stared at his socks. Arianne noted the white-knuckle grip on his crutches. “You’re right. I’ll watch the kid. You go have a good time.”
Arianne uncrossed her arms. “Really?”
She didn’t mean to sound so disappointed.
Huck lifted his head. “Really.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. She tried not to let it affect her, but it didn’t work.
A draft from the chimney shifted the flames, blowing in an intense level of awkwardness and the scent of cedar. Arianne wasn’t a bit tired, but her bedroom was her only escape. “Well, then. Thanks.” She picked up her book from the coffee table. “I’m going to bed. Do you need anything before I go?”
He sank into the recliner and laid the crutches beside him, his focus on the fireplace. “No. ‘Night.”
“Good night.” She backed away, knowing sleep wouldn’t come. Not from excitement over her date tomorrow night, but from the defeated, somber tone of Huck’s farewell.
Russian author Leo Tolstoy enjoyed beekeeping. In War and Peace, he compares the evacuation of Moscow to a “dying, queenless hive.”
23
“You look lovely,” Jack said from behind her as they waited by the hostess stand.
Arianne blushed when Jack’s breath brushed her ear. “Thank you.”
He looked great too. The waitress led them to a table splashed in lantern light. The restaurant was attached to the oldest B&B in the area. Dark, hand-hewn beams, large plank flooring, and rustic décor made her feel as though she’d stepped back in time to a tavern frequented by the founding fathers.
Jack pulled out her chair, and Arianne tucked her legs beneath the table. Déjà vu hit her in waves as her date with Travis replayed in her mind, making her nerves sizzle. That night had started like this one—a handsome man, a nice restaurant way out of her budget. If Jack hadn’t told her he was a widower on the car ride here, she’d be watching her back for another woman. Maybe she should anyway.
They both ordered eggs Benedict with ham and asparagus. Unlike the restaurant on her last date, this atmosphere was casual, and she felt relaxed in her dark jeans, cream tank, and red flyaway cardigan. She’d spent extra time on her hair, calling herself crazy the whole time. The men she dated never worked out. Why should Jack be any different?
“Pastor Dave’s sermon on truth last Sunday was enlightening.” Jack leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. The plaid shirt beneath his gray crewneck sweater peeked out from the open buttons and around the sleeves he’d pushed up to his elbows. His forest-colored eyes sparkled in the lantern light.
“I agree. It really enforced the basics of truth and reminded me how God expects us to relay it to others. No matter the subject.”
“Most of all, it made me see how I need to be more honest with myself. Sometimes I’m truly my own worst enemy.”
“Me too.” Only she was her own assassin.
“For a long time, I told myself I’d betray my wife’s memory if I started dating again. Deep down I knew that wasn’t true. It’s what she would’ve wanted. Maybe I told myself that because I was afraid to get back out there, open myself up again. I don’t know. Truth is I’m tired of going home to an empty house.”
She understood that. At least she had Emma. He didn’t have any children to love and honor his wife’s memory by.
“Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Arianne. I don’t have any expectations and certainly don’t want to rush things. If anything, it’s nice to have a friend.”
Like a punctured helium balloon, all the nervous pressure drained away. She grinned. “You can never have too many friends.”
Over dinner, he asked about her shop. She left out the gloomy details. No need to bring the night to a depressing halt. He was curious about Emma and laughed at the many antics Arianne relayed. The best part was he enjoyed the chocolate cake as much as she did.
When they reached Huck’s house, Jack walked her to the door. Stars twinkled in the clear sky, and the chilly air nipped at her cheeks. Arianne burrowed further into her scarf, holding it tighter around her neck with her mitten-wrapped hands. “I had a great time tonight, Jack. Thank you.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” His breath clouded the air between them.
This was the moment where awkward farewells normally began. Only nothing about the night had been uncomfortable. She’d truly enjoyed herself.
She opened her mouth to ask Jack if he’d like to come in for coffee, but closed it when she remembered this wasn’t her house and Huck was inside. Awkward.
Jack stepped closer, hands burrowed in his coat pockets. “I’d like to do this again.”
She nodded, too cold for words.
“How’s next Friday sound?”
“Good.”
He pulled out a hand and grazed his thumb over her mostly numb cheek. Was he going to kiss her? Jack didn’t seem the type. Exactly what she needed.
A crash inside the house stole the moment. She cracked open the door. “I’d better check on the children.”
Jack laughed, lowering his hand. “Good night.”
Arianne smiled as she watched Jack head to his car. A second date with a man she could discuss the Bible with, a man who understood marriage and its trials, was the best way to overcome her girlish obsession with Huck.
~*~
What idiot had installed this window at the right angle to hide any view of the porch? Huck picked the curtain rod off the floor and hung it back on its rickety perch. The front door cracked open and laughter filtered through. He fluffed the mussed curtains, jerked his crutches from the wall, and shoved them beneath his arms. He stepped away from the window so she wouldn’t know he’d been spying, and a sharp pain wrenched through his heel. He ground his teeth and lifted his leg to find a Barbie high-heel stuck to his bare foot.
Arianne walked through the front door, all rosy-cheeked and starry-eyed. The goofy grin on her face made his stomach drop. They’d been making out—he knew it!
“You’re late.”
“I wasn’t aware I had a curfew. Where’s Emma?” She removed her coat and mittens.
“Asleep.” He’d learned the hard way that candy, grape drinks, and four-year-old girls did not mix. She’d shot through the house like a rubber band, spilling milk and knocking things over, then crashed when the sugar-high wore off.
Arianne yawned. “Good idea. Did she behave?”
“We got along fine.”
“Good. Would you mind watching her for me again next Friday night?”
She looked so beautiful in her red sweater-thing, he would almost agree to anything. Almost. “Why?”
“Jack asked me out again.”
Good thing the crutches helped to keep his balance. “The date went that well, huh?”
She clasped her hands. “He’s wonderful.”
The knife was in, now all she had to do was twist. “How so?”
Masochist.
She frowned at the crooked curtain rod and sank onto the couch. “Well, he’s easy to talk to. He was open with his feelings about being a widower and not wanting to rush things.”
No rushing. Good.
“He’s a family man. He wants another wife someday. Kids. We discussed church and the Bible. Jack seems like a good man.”
Huck’s complete opposite. Jack had probably never been responsible for anyone’s death, either.
Ari
anne covered her mouth and yawned again. “I’m beat.” She stood and stretched. His gaze followed the length of her body. “See you in the morning.”
Her sweater swayed behind her as she left the room. She’d taken extra care to look nice tonight. For Jack. Heat pricked his neck.
He’d thought volunteering to watch her kid while she went out would prove to him that he wasn’t falling in love with her. In reality, he was downright—he shuddered—jealous. He’d never been jealous over a woman before. Never had to be. He always got the girl.
The crutches chafed under his arms. He gripped them both in one hand and walked to his bedroom, slapping off the living room light on his way out. He didn’t know anything about being a family man, kids, or the Bible, but Arianne made him want to be a better man. He would try to be worthy of her.
He knew just where to start.
~*~
“What are we doing here?” Arianne parked the car and looked at the diner through the frosty-edged windshield. The neon Open sign glowed across her curious face.
“Some gal I know turned thirty today.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and let it zip into place.
She pouted. “I was trying to forget.”
He glanced at his partner-in-crime in the backseat. “Come on, girls. Dinner’s on me.”
Arianne stared at him, a smile in her eyes. That’s what he was after.
The smell of greasy diner food welcomed them as they stepped onto the faded black-and-white tile floor. After crawling into a vacant booth with red upholstery, they read over the sticky, laminated menus. Not the fanciest choice for a birthday dinner, but it was the best in town.
Marge, his favorite waitress, sped to their table in her blue uniform. “Haven’t seen you in a while, handsome. You haven’t grown up and gotten married on me, have you?” Her cheeks rose, deepening the wrinkles around her eyes.
Arianne snickered.
“Forgot who I was talking to.” Marge let out a raspy laugh and slapped his shoulder.
Cantankerous broad.
Marge threw a hand on her hip and turned to the birthday girl. “You look like a smart woman. What are you doing with this guy?”
She waved at Emma.
Arianne put down the menu and folded her hands. “He’s my patient.”
“Patient?” Marge’s gray eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs.
Arianne explained about the wreck. Marge’s eyes grew wide. Shame burned Huck’s face at the knowledge that the last time he’d been in here, Giada was with him. What was he thinking coming here? The excitement of surprising Arianne for her birthday overtook his common sense.
Marge laid her hand on his arm and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re all right.” She took their drink orders and disappeared into the kitchen.
“I like her.” Arianne’s lips curled in an impish grin. “She knows how to handle you. I take it you’re a regular?”
Huck stared at her pink painted fingernails. “Used to be.”
Giada’s memory lingered over him. A haunting he’d never escape.
“What’s wrong?” Arianne reached for his hand.
That’s when he realized he was frowning. Her soft fingers brushing his gave him strength. Could he wipe his slate clean and start again? He’d never been the definition of good, but Arianne made him want to learn. What would she do if he opened up his hand and twined his fingers with hers? Only one way to find out.
Her breath hitched. Perfect fit.
“How does it feel to be thirty?”
Arianne’s face turned a beautiful shade of pink. Her mouth hung open slightly and she looked from him to Emma, who was too busy coloring on her paper placemat to notice her mother was being admired. “Uh…”
She tried to pull away, but he held on. She looked down at her lap, but not before he saw a tight-lipped grin on her face. “Just another day older.”
A different waitress brought their drinks, giving Arianne an excuse to pull away. He leaned back against the booth, and they ordered their meals.
“Have you heard from your sister?”
“No. I wish I knew where she was staying. If she’s safe. I’ve called everyone I can think of.” She sipped her cherry-flavored pop. “I thought she’d at least call to tell me happy birthday. They get lonely sometimes, you know? Birthdays, holidays.”
He knew. Even when he’d had a so-called family, he spent those times alone.
She gazed at him over the glass in her hands, lips hovering near the straw. “Thanks for not letting me spend this one alone.”
If he had his way, she’d never spend another day alone.
A few minutes later, Marge brought out their burgers and fries. When Emma had eaten enough to satisfy Arianne, Huck ordered dessert for them to share. While spooning away the giant chocolate-chip cookie with ice cream, hot fudge, nuts, and whipped cream, Arianne reminisced about her favorite childhood birthdays.
He pointed to the candle lying in an ice cream puddle at the bottom of the dish. “What’d you wish for?”
Arianne shook her head. “If I tell you it won’t come true.”
“I didn’t think you were the superstitious type.”
She chuckled. “I’m not. What did you wish for on your thirtieth?”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Guys don’t sit around wishing on candles and stars.”
Arianne put her elbows on the table. “Fine then. What is something you’d planned to do by your thirtieth birthday that didn’t happen?” Her face lit up with a mischievous grin, like a teenager playing Truth or Dare.
Another dead memory to haunt him. “Ride all of Route 66 on my motorcycle.”
“It’s not too late.”
Huck nodded.
“It sounds like a good dream.” She rested her chin in her hand. “Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll be spontaneous and go with you.”
He narrowed one eye. She’d spit that word with sass. Had she overheard him and Jack the other night?
The thought of her on the back of his bike, arms wrapped around his waist, the two of them heading for adventure was exhilarating. Then reality set in. “I don’t think I’ll be riding any more bikes.”
Especially with a passenger.
Emma tugged on Arianne’s sleeve. “Mommy, I need to use the bathroom.”
Huck tossed the tip on the table and folded the ticket in his hand, glad the subject had ended. He stood and grabbed his crutches, angling them under his arms. Arianne handed him her keys so he could warm the car, and then she and Emma weaved through the tables to the restroom.
Marge met him at the register. He placed his crutches against the counter and leaned onto it. Her nimble fingers hit the keys, and she eyed him ‘til he was downright uncomfortable. “She’s the one, Huck.”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You love her.”
Did the woman have X-ray vision? He stood tall and scratched his jaw. “Did you take your crazy pills this morning?”
The register popped open and he passed her two twenties.
“Maybe I did, but a person would have to be blind not to see how you three fit together.” She held out his change and smiled, revealing the lipstick on her teeth.
He blinked, not knowing what to say.
Huck took his change and dropped it into her tip jar.
“Thanks, handsome.”
He headed for the door. Maybe the cold would shock him from his stunned state.
“Forget something?”
Hand on the doorknob, he turned to Marge. She pointed to his crutches leaning against the counter. He looked at his leg then back to her smiling face.
He could make all kinds of excuses, but what was the point? “Thanks.”
Arianne left the bathroom, guiding Emma from behind. Huck shifted the crutches beneath him. A world-class dummy.
Marge waved to Arianne, who was helping Emma put on her coat. “You better get him home, honey. I think his leg is hurting something fierce.”
With that, t
he ornery server walked away.
~*~
Arianne stepped into the warm house, lugging her sleeping daughter.
Huck locked the door behind them. “Get her to bed. I’ll make coffee.”
“This late at night?” She shifted Emma to keep from dropping her.
“Yeah. I’ve got a present for you.” His intense gaze made her stomach tremble.
She put Emma to bed and paced her bedroom floor. What was with Huck tonight? Ever since she’d gone out with Jack, he’d been different. More attentive. Flirty, even. Could he be jealous?
Yeah, right. This situation made them close friends now. That’s all. He was just being nice because it was her birthday. Except the fireworks that had exploded inside her when he’d held her hand made it more like the Fourth of July.
With a hand pressed to her middle, she closed the bedroom door behind her and met Huck in the kitchen. He poured coffee into two mugs and handed her one, along with a manila envelope.
She blew on the liquid. “What’s this?”
“Happy birthday.” His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine.
Arianne stared at the envelope, thought of a million bad things it could be. Good news never came in manila envelopes. Divorce papers and final notices—that’s the kind of mail she always got. Maybe he’d found a place she could move to. Maybe he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
Huck reached for her mug, and she gave it to him. “Open it.”
Arianne swallowed and pinched the envelope’s metal clasp, lifted the flap, and pulled out papers. She skimmed the words, aware of his close presence beside her, his every breath. “A design scholarship?”
“It’s a great opportunity.”
Yes, it was. “I can’t go back to school. The shop is my only income. I can’t afford employees right now. I can’t afford a sitter for Emma.”
He placed his mug on the counter. “It’s a full ride to design school. Online. You could take courses at night, after you close the shop, and you wouldn’t need a babysitter. If for some reason you did, you’d have me.”
Hope filled her chest then deflated. “I do my alterations at night.”
He pursed his lips in thought. “Do ‘em when there’s downtime at the shop. Take the simpler stuff home and do it while you study. If you want it bad enough, you’ll find a way.”
How to Charm a Beekeeper's Heart Page 18
