Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3

by Debbie Macomber

  Clearly Bruce had been to see Teri. “How are the triplets?”

  “Growing like grass in August.”

  “And Teri?”

  “Great. The boys are sleeping better now and she looks like she’s getting more rest. Bobby, too.”

  They’d hired a nanny, whom Rachel had met, but Teri kept a close eye on her sons.

  “She said you hadn’t come over or called her in a while.” This sounded a bit accusatory.

  Rachel knew that the instant she saw Teri she’d tell her about living with Nate. Teri was her best friend in all the world, but she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. The only solution, really, had been to avoid her altogether. Rachel missed her desperately, so she’d give her friend a call or visit soon. She was feeling stronger and it no longer needed to be such a secret that she was living and working in Bremerton.

  “James and Christie are happy, then?”

  “Sure seem to be.”

  If he noticed the abrupt change of subject, he didn’t comment. Instead, he squeezed her hand and looked directly into her eyes. “Let me come home with you.”

  “Bruce.”

  “I won’t spend more than a couple of hours.”

  She knew what her husband wanted and, frankly, she was tempted. Very tempted. It was too dangerous, though. She was afraid that they’d walk into the house and Nate would be there. And she wasn’t ready for that….

  “I can’t…. I have a roommate, don’t forget.” That probably wouldn’t matter to Bruce, so she decided to elaborate on the truth. Okay, she’d lie. “My roommate’s having a big party tonight….”

  “Oh.”

  “So let me go home with you,” she said quickly.

  Bruce hesitated.

  “I won’t stay longer than…necessary,” she said, and then because it sounded so calculating, she started to giggle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Us. We’re married and we can’t find a place to be alone. This is ridiculous.”

  “Jolene’s still at the house,” Bruce said.

  “Oh, right. That won’t work, then.”

  “It’s my house. I don’t care what my daughter thinks. You’re my wife.”

  “Let’s not pick a fight with her now, especially if she isn’t feeling well.”

  Neither said anything for several seconds.

  “We could always get a hotel room,” Bruce said under his breath.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I’m not.”

  “But…”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Rachel didn’t.

  Bruce rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Me, too,” she said breathlessly. “Are you sure about this?”

  He grinned. “Why not? I want to be with you, and if that means paying for a room, then so be it.” He was already halfway out of the booth.

  “Bruce,” she whispered. “We don’t have the bill.”

  “Don’t worry, Goldie will get it to us.” He peeled off a five-dollar bill, dropping it on the table for a tip, then extended his hand to Rachel.

  She stood and Bruce bent to kiss the side of her neck.

  Sure enough, Goldie appeared with their bill mere seconds later. “Anything wrong with the food?” she asked.

  Their meals were almost untouched.

  “Everything was fine,” Rachel said.

  “Do you want a take-out bag?”

  “No, thanks.” Bruce placed his hand on the small of Rachel’s back, not hiding his eagerness to be on their way.

  “You two still fighting?” Goldie demanded.

  “Not anymore,” Rachel told her.

  “We’re about to kiss and make up,” Bruce added.

  “That’s what I like to hear. Good for you!”

  “Yup, good for us.” Bruce grabbed Rachel’s hand. They paused only long enough to pay for their meal.

  By the time they were in the parking lot, Rachel felt almost giddy. Bruce backed her against the side of his car and kissed her with a hunger that assured her she’d been greatly missed.

  Wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck, she returned every kiss in full measure. “Bruce…”

  “Hmm?”

  “If we get a hotel room…”

  “If?”

  She ignored that. “I think you should check on Jolene first.”

  “No way. Like I said, I’m not giving her any reason to bring me home earlier than I want to be.” Bruce was far more interested in unlocking his car door while still kissing her.

  “Wait,” she murmured, dragging her lips from his.

  “Wait?” he asked as he straightened. “For what?”

  “I drove my own car here.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He stepped back—and just then, his cell phone rang. Rachel froze.

  So did Bruce. He pulled out his cell and his shoulders tensed with what could only be dread.

  “Go ahead and answer it,” she whispered.

  Reluctantly Bruce did. “What?” he snapped. His eyes locked with Rachel’s. “Sorry. Yes, of course. I’ll be right home.”

  This was obviously serious. “What’s wrong?” she asked even before he could disconnect.

  “It’s Anne from next door.”

  “And?”

  “Jolene called her over. She’s been throwing up all night. Anne said she hasn’t been able to keep anything down. She’s afraid there might be something really wrong. She thinks it’s a good idea to take her to the E.R.”

  “Then you should go,” Rachel said.

  Bruce reached for her. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, too.”

  And she was, far more than she dared admit.

  Nineteen

  Shortly after nine on Thursday morning Miranda Sullivan was getting into her car to run errands when her cell phone chirped. Digging in her purse, she retrieved it, all the while wondering who’d be calling this early. Caller ID identified Will Jefferson. He’d given her the day off and she planned on putting it to good use.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “On my way to the grocery store. I’m picking up treats for the goblins who’ll be coming by tonight.”

  “Oh, right, it’s Halloween. Aren’t you doing this a little last-minute?”

  “Maybe, but if I buy candy too early I tend to eat it myself.”

  “No willpower?”

  Miranda frowned and refused to take the bait. He knew exactly which buttons to push with her. “Is there a reason you called?” she asked.

  “Actually, speaking of last-minute, I was hoping you’d be able to work this afternoon.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t need me.”

  “I didn’t then, but I do now. My sister wants me to come with her to check something out….”

  “What?” She’d counted on a free afternoon and wasn’t giving it up without a good reason.

  “Okay, if you must know…” He sighed. “Olivia and I have appointments at a couple of assisted-living complexes in the area.”

  Miranda did sympathize but she had her own appointment at Get Nailed. “I have plans this afternoon,” she said.

  “Oh.” He sounded somewhat morose. “So you can’t come in for a few hours? Well, I could close the gallery, I suppose. It probably wouldn’t hurt for one afternoon. Only I hate the idea of doing that….”

  “Oh, all right,” Miranda said, capitulating far too easily. She could phone the salon and reschedule for later in the week.

  “That’s great.” He leaped at her offer without any hesitation. “Can you be here around two?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks, Miranda. I really appreciate it.”

  “Bye.” She called the salon to cancel her appointment, then shut her cell and put it back inside her oversize purse. So much for shopping, hair and fun. She quickly revised her plans.

  First things first.
She ran errands, going to Safeway for the candy she needed. In addition, she bought an extra bag of miniature chocolate bars and a plastic pumpkin for the gallery. Then she picked up her dry cleaning. Shirley met her for an early lunch, and when they’d finished, she dropped off some books at the library. From there Miranda got to the art gallery with fifteen minutes to spare.

  Will was with a customer when she arrived. He raised his hand briefly but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her. Miranda hung her coat in the back room and stashed her purse in a safe place. Then she opened the candy, dumped the small chocolate bars in the pumpkin and set it on the counter near the cash register for customers to help themselves.

  Will was at the door saying goodbye to his customer when she returned.

  “What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the plastic pumpkin.

  “What does it look like?”

  “You brought candy in here?”

  “Yes.” The answer should be obvious.

  “You don’t need it and neither do I. Whenever possible I avoid sweets.”

  “Then don’t indulge. I thought you were the one with willpower,” she said sarcastically. When he started to respond, she said, “It isn’t for you, anyway.” Was he so self-absorbed that he assumed she’d purchased the bag for him?

  “Then who’s it for?”

  “Customers,” she said irritably. “Is that a problem?” She’d done him a favor and Will acted as if she’d brought poison into his precious gallery.

  “We don’t get that many children—”

  “Isn’t it time you met your sister?” she asked, interrupting him.

  Will gave her a startled look. “Right. I shouldn’t be longer than a couple of hours. Three at the most.”

  “If you aren’t back by five, I’ll close for the night and head home.”

  “I’ll be back by then.”

  “So he says,” Miranda muttered under her breath. If Will heard her, he pretended he didn’t.

  The rest of the afternoon was busy, much busier than she would’ve expected. She sold another Beverly Chandler painting, a sculpture and a quilt. Will should be pleased, but knowing him, he’d invent reasons to find fault. She just hoped he realized that if she hadn’t given up most of her afternoon, they wouldn’t have made three rather large sales. If he’d placed a closed sign on the door, he might never have known what he’d missed. After all, there was no guarantee those customers would’ve come back.

  A little after five, as she was putting the cash from the till into the bank deposit bag, Will walked into the gallery, looking completely worn out.

  “We had a great afternoon,” she said, eager to share her news.

  He nodded absently. “Olivia and I are shocked. You wouldn’t believe the monthly fees these adult residences charge.”

  “I sold the quilt,” Miranda bragged. It’d been in the gallery for three months and she’d almost lost hope that it would sell.

  Will still wasn’t listening. “Of course, when you take into account that the fees include meals and utilities, I don’t suppose it’s so bad.”

  “Another Beverly Chandler painting, too.” If nothing else, this should get his attention.

  “They have a lot of programs for the elderly,” he continued. “They do everything they can to keep the residents physically fit. The social activities sound great. Both Olivia and I think this mental stimulation is exactly what Mom needs. Ben, too.” He shook his head. “Still, we’ll have to talk to Ben’s son—and I don’t mean David—”

  “Have you heard a single word I said?” Miranda asked.

  Will glanced up. “What?”

  “Never mind.” She tossed the deposit bag on the counter and went into the back room for her coat and purse.

  He followed her. “Why are you in such a state?”

  “Because of you.”

  “That figures. Apparently everything I do annoys you.”

  “You have no idea how true that is. And you seem to be just as annoyed by me. I’m not even sure why you keep me on.”

  “I’m wondering that myself,” he murmured. “Furthermore I doubt you heard a single word I said.”

  “Yes, of course I did.” She marched into the outer room and grabbed the plastic pumpkin.

  “Where are you going with that?”

  “Home. You don’t appreciate it, so I’m taking it with me.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t appreciate it. Anyway, I didn’t have a chance to pick up any treats, so I was going to use it tonight in case any of the neighborhood kids stop by.”

  “That’s unlikely.”

  “Okay, fine. Whatever.” He glared at her.

  Miranda glared back.

  “Why are you like this?” he demanded.

  “Like what?”

  “So…so moody. You jump all over me every chance you get. I don’t understand what your problem is.”

  Miranda took offense at that. “I am the most even-tempered woman you’re likely to meet. Ask anyone.”

  “You fly off the handle over nothing.”

  “That is not true.”

  He gestured toward her. “Just listen to how defensive you are. Can’t we have a civil conversation without you making all kinds of false assumptions?”

  “I…I—” Perhaps she was being defensive. Okay, true, she was, but she had no choice. It was either that or own up to how attractive she found him….

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, frowning slightly. He didn’t seem to know how he should react when she didn’t have an immediate comeback.

  “I…I—” she started again, and then, without considering her actions, she stepped forward and kissed him.

  For an instant they were both too shocked to do anything but stare at each other. Then Will reached out and caught her by the shoulders as if to shove her away. Instead, he brought her close, kissing her deeply, passionately.

  They both seemed to realize what was happening at the same time. Breaking apart, they retreated, gazing at each other in shock.

  Miranda could feel her face heating up with acute embarrassment. In all her life, she’d never been the one to take the initiative and kiss a man. Well, not the first time they kissed, at any rate. This was completely out of character.

  “What was that about?” Will asked, frowning.

  Miranda could play this one of two ways, she decided. She could be nonchalant about the whole thing and dismiss it as unimportant. Irrelevant. Or she could simply say he’d made her so angry that it was either kiss him or slap him across the face. And that being the case, she’d opted for the lesser of two evils.

  Before she could choose which approach to take, Will raised one hand to his face and narrowed his eyes. “You just kissed me.”

  “No one’s ever kissed you before?” she asked flippantly.

  “Not like that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Not answering, he turned away and then abruptly turned back. “Do you do that often?”

  “Do what?” she said, playing stupid. Because that was how she felt. Stupid.

  “Walk up to a man and kiss him,” he said. His voice seemed to echo around the gallery. Thankfully they were closed; otherwise, some unsuspecting customer might breeze in. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad because she’d be able to escape.

  “No, I don’t usually go around kissing men,” she admitted. “It seems to me you enjoyed it, though.”

  “I most certainly did not.”

  “Oh, please!” She laughed outright.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You. Come on, Will. I don’t understand why you’re so thrown by a little kiss.”

  “Why’d you do it?”

  There wasn’t going to be an easy way to extricate herself from this awkward situation. She could confess that she was strongly attracted to him. No, that would be totally the wrong move. It would give him the upper hand, always dangerous with a man like Will. Acting defensive and ill-tempered protected her, although
she’d rather burn at the stake than admit it.

  “Explain,” he insisted.

  “Ah…” She’d really done it this time. “It was a mistake.”

  “Yes, it was a mistake. A big one.”

  “Whatever.”

  “As your employer, I’m finding this all rather…amusing.”

  “You would find it amusing.” Leave it to Will to use this to embarrass her even further—although a moment ago, his reaction had been quite different.

  “I prefer to kiss rather than be kissed.”

  “Oh, you have rules for such things,” she murmured, not pointing out that he’d done his share of the kissing. This entire conversation was ridiculous. She yanked her raincoat from its hook and thrust her arms into the sleeves.

  “Everyone has rules about kissing,” he said.

  “Like I told you, it was a mistake. An accident…”

  “An accident,” he repeated. “You’re joking. That kiss was probably the most deliberate action you’ve taken since the moment I hired you.”

  “I moved the first Chandler painting,” she was quick to remind him, “the one that sold a month ago.”

  He ignored that. “When I kiss a woman, I prefer she not be a big-boned, opinionated windbag.”

  So now he was going to insult her. Miranda didn’t need to hang around for that. Grabbing her purse, she stomped out of the gallery.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, following her.

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t. I’m just…curious.”

  She was at the door, which stubbornly refused to open. She twisted the handle several times, but couldn’t budge it. So much for making a grand exit.

  Will reached over and flipped the lock so that when she tried again she stumbled backward and almost fell into his arms. He clutched at her shoulders to steady her. It didn’t take much effort to shake herself free.

  As soon as the door opened, she hurried around to the rear of the building where she’d parked. Again, Will followed her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked sharply.

  He didn’t answer, and it occurred to her that he was as bemused as she’d been. He didn’t know what he was doing or why. That was comforting—at least a little.

  Before she could open the car door, Will planted his hand on the side window and turned, leaning against the vehicle so she couldn’t leave.