“Do you have mayo?” Chandler sat at the table and smiled. “And a beer would be heavenly.”
May set the mayo down and shook her head as Chandler slathered it on. Then he twisted the top off of his beer and took a swig. May put the mayo up and sat down.
Chandler took a large bite of the sandwich and groaned in appreciation. The sound so sincere that May threw back her head and laughed.
Chandler swallowed the bite and grinned at her. “So you make a habit of rescuing needy men?”
May chuckled. “You’re hardly needy. A bit overbooked, perhaps. But you’ll settle in soon enough.” She took a sip of her soda. “Most of the neighbors are elderly. You’ve fallen into the senior neighborhood of the Midwest.”
Chandler waved his hand. “Not really. Some of them, yes. But you and me? Hardly a part of the geriatric set.”
May arched an eyebrow. “I’m quite a few years older than you, young man.”
Her guest snorted and almost choked on his bite. “You’re what? Mid-thirties? Hardly able to collect social security.”
May studied her neighbor. “That’s rather flattering. But I’m forty.”
Chandler stopped in mid-chew and studied her. His chocolate eyes started at her hair and moved down her face. He stopped at every feature, and then his eyes moved southward over her body. Or as much as he could see from the tabletop up.
May flushed and narrowed her eyes.
Chandler finished his bite and washed it down with the beer. “You look great. Forty or no. Don’t put yourself out to pasture yet, May. You’ve still got a lot of living to do.”
“And how old are you, Chandler?”
“I’m twenty-seven.” The young man took a bite of his salad and smiled. “Old enough to know better…”
“…But young enough not to care.” May laughed aloud and shook her head. “Incorrigible, that’s what you are.”
Chandler shrugged easily. “Gotta have a hobby, May. Life is too short to sweat the small stuff.” He finished his sandwich in silence and then polished off his salad.
May handed him another beer, and he drank deeply.
When he finished, he stood and took his plate to the sink. Then he calmly washed it over May’s protests. Chandler grinned. “I’m hitting the upstairs bathroom after this.”
“You’re a guest,” May protested.
“I’ve invaded your home three times today.” Chandler washed the plate and cutlery and rinsed them. Then he dried his hands off on the nearest dish towel. “That’s considered dating in some countries.”
May stared at Chandler in shock. He glanced over at her face and chuckled. “Relax, May. I’m teasing.”
The shock slid into anger. “Obviously.” She stood stiffly.
Chandler shook his head and walked over to her. “Believe me, May. When I ask you out, you’ll know it’s just that.” He smiled and walked toward the stairs.
May watched him go with wide eyes and a racing heart. He’d said “when.” Like somehow they both understood that he would ask. May sank back into her chair and studied the empty chair closest to her.
Her guest appeared fifteen minutes later with a satisfied smile. “All remnants of a rambunctious toddler are now erased from your upstairs bath.” Chandler waved as he walked to the patio door. “Take care, May. I’ll catch you later.”
And with that, he was gone.
May looked after him quizzically.
Chandler Hughes was practically half her age. A man with a full life ahead of him. She was a spinster for all intents and purposes. May didn’t want to date. Didn’t want to tie herself to another. And how could she hope to keep up with a twenty-seven-year-old man?
May rubbed the scar on her leg and stared into the distance. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. And that was the end of that.
Chapter 2
May rolled over in bed and glared at her ceiling. Barely six. She could feel it. Lately, she’d been lucky to squeeze in seven whole hours of sleep. And her body paid the price. She felt exhausted. The sun hadn’t even made an appearance yet. Hell, even the birds were still sleeping.
“Damn it,” she muttered and rolled over. May squeezed her eyes shut again. No good. She was well and truly awake.
May tossed the comforter back and lay there some more. Murdering an hour would be easy. She could simply toss and turn and curse some more. What fun.
“To hell with it.” May rolled over and maneuvered her feet to the floor. Her pastel yellow pajama set had ridden high on her legs while she tossed and turned during the night. The spaghetti strap top fell off one shoulder.
“I’m well and truly tore up this morning,” she mumbled and groaned. It had been a night of too many thoughts and not enough rest. And the nightmare.
May shuddered. She hated the nightmare. And it had come back with more and more frequency. Pinned beneath the horse. Her right leg crushed and bleeding through her riding pants. May pressed her fingertips to her eyes. Just a memory. A time that passed. It had no more bearing on her life now other than the lovely scar that marred her entire right leg.
May pulled her pant legs down and stood unsteadily.
Breakfast first. Then a round or two in the garden. Lunch and accounting. The routine she had day in and day out.
She shuffled out of her bedroom and into the long hallway that led to the kitchen. The ivy started to grow beyond its container. May traced the leaves and smiled. Pretty soon she could plant it on the backside of her gazebo and enjoy it all summer long.
The starter plants still hadn’t sprouted at all. May frowned and dug her finger into the dirt. Maybe a bit dry. A little water and a bit more food. She checked each and every plant before she stepped into her kitchen.
A soft light shone through her window, and May pulled the curtains back. Up before the sun. Somehow, it didn’t thrill her all that much. Where had her love of the morning gone? She used to bounce out of bed at five and be on the set before six. Of course that had been several decades ago.
May started her coffee and eased into the nearest chair. She propped her head on her hands and stared out the window. It would be a gorgeous morning. May stood and opened the window. She inhaled deeply. It would rain.
She frowned.
How she knew, there was no ready explanation. But before night fell, there would be rain. May glanced upward. No clouds as of yet. She turned and grabbed the remote. The television snapped on, and May poured herself the first cup of coffee for the day.
The news anchors droned on and on while May foraged in her refrigerator for something to eat. Perhaps just a couple pieces of toast. She popped the two pieces of wheat bread in and waited.
The meteorologist came on, and May turned the volume up. Twenty percent chance of rain. May closed her eyes and inhaled deeply again. More than that. She would bet on it.
The toast popped up, and May slathered on real butter. She lay the toast on a small platter and sat back at the table. A slight breeze lifted the curtains and filtered through the kitchen.
There wouldn’t be a lot of time in the garden this morning. Maybe a few transplants. Watering. The gazebo furniture would have to wait. May frowned. Never enough hours. Even when they were cut short by her erratic sleep patterns.
May finished her toast and brushed her short brown hair back from her face. Still a bit chilly in the mornings. She’d grab a pair of old blue jeans and a T-shirt. She stood and walked slowly back into her bedroom.
She had a lot to do before the rain came. Or at least as much as she could squeeze in. May yanked a pair of blue jeans out of her drawer and threw them on the bed. Then she reached into the next drawer and withdrew a wrinkly orange shirt with a nice bleach stain on the front. Perfect gardening accessories.
May threw her nightclothes on the bed and pulled on a lovely maroon matching panty set. Her clothes may not be much to look at, but her lingerie, topnotch. The jeans were a little loose, and the shirt hung on her, but that didn’t matter much. As soon as she finished up, she w
ould bathe and change clothes again.
She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and slid her blue flip-flops on. Ironically, her toenails matched her underwear. May grinned and shuffled out to the back porch.
She felt a definite nip in the air. The slight breeze lifted loose tendrils of her hair, and she shivered. As soon as she began to work in the yard, the breeze would feel heavenly. May pulled a mat out of a small storage bin in her backyard and threw it down on the ground on the backside of the gazebo.
Weeds. She sighed and dug her fingers into the dirt.
* * * *
The first fat raindrop hit May right between the eyes. She lifted her brown eyes up to the heavens and scowled. It hadn’t even been two hours, and it would pour. This nonsense kept up, and she’d have a hell of a time refinishing her patio furniture.
May grabbed onto the side of the gazebo and levered herself upright. The next cold raindrops came fast and furious. She ducked and limped back to the overhang of her porch. Okay. She didn’t hate rain. She actually loved it. When all of her chores were done, and she could enjoy it from the comfort of her office window. In the middle of a work session? Not so damn much.
The gardening tools lay on her mat. May brushed back the loose hair back from her face and knew she would have to go back for them. No way would she leave them outside in the deluge.
“Hell, hell, hell,” she muttered as she made her way over to them. The rain fell in sheets now, and her clothes clung wetly to her body as she ambled back toward the porch.
May stopped under the overhang and glared at no one in particular. Hell of a time for a rainstorm. She planned on dividing her day again. Now it would be all work and no play. That really sucked.
The patio door slid open quietly, and May stopped on the mat right inside. A bouquet of purple irises that bloomed haphazardly on a backing of sky blue. She dripped for another couple of minutes and swept her wet hair back from her face.
Should have had the foresight to bring a towel with her. Now she would have to hazard walking on the floor with her wet feet. A recipe for disaster. May rubbed her temple. She started to shiver and scowled. She could either freeze to death or suck it up and walk across the tile.
Damn it.
The rain turned to storm as lightning flashed through her kitchen windows followed by thunder that rolled along the skies. Her whole house shook. May clenched her jaw and looked at the fifteen feet separating her from the rug and certain walking safety.
If she took it slow, she would be fine. May shuffled forward and grabbed the butcher block table with her left hand. No sudden movements, and she would make it in one piece. The next flash of lightning and rumble of thunder seemed to be on top of one another. The sudden light and noise caused her to stumble a bit.
“Brilliant,” she muttered. “Hobbling around my kitchen like an old woman. Scared I’m going to fall on my ass. And me without my handy emergency calling necklace.”
The next lightning strike came as a brilliant white light that blinded her momentarily. And as the thunder boomed, the electricity went off. The kitchen went dark as midnight.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered in defeat. May’s shoulders slumped. “Just shoot me.” Navigation in the light, iffy. Navigation in the dark, suicide.
The patio door slid open, and she jumped.
“May?”
Chandler’s voice floated eerily over to her. “Are you here?”
“Over here.” She fought the embarrassment of being caught like a fish out of water. A flashlight came on, and she was nearly blinded again at the sharp light.
“Sorry.” The light dropped down from her face. Chandler moved forward and put the flashlight on the table by her. “You okay?”
“Grand,” she bit out.
“You’re soaking wet.” Chandler shook his head. “I’d have Billie with me, but Amanda swapped her days off around. I think they were supposed to go to the zoo today.” Another lightning strike. “They may have to settle for the museum.” The thunder boomed. “Probably a good thing she’s with her mother today.”
May shivered. There was pride. And then there was stupidity.
“Chandler?”
“Yes?”
“Could you please help me over to the carpet?” May’s cheeks reddened, and she felt glad of the darkness.
“Of course.” He quickly walked over to her and hooked his arm around her waist.
His spicy scent filtered through her senses. The strength of his body balanced out the weakness of hers. He pulled her a little tighter to him and directed her over to the carpet. The lightning and thunder warred with each other outside while May cursed the weather and her ineptness at simply walking.
When they reached the carpet, Chandler kept his arm around her, and May attempted to disentangle herself.
“Thanks.”
Chandler brushed his hand over her wet head. “You need a hot bath. Let me grab my flashlight real quick.” He was gone from her side before she could reply that her flashlight sat just a couple of feet away in a drawer.
He came back quickly and hooked his arm around her.
“I’m fine now.”
“Nonsense.” Chandler rubbed his right hand up and down her arm while he guided her through the living room. “You’re freezing. I can feel the goosebumps. Here. Take the flashlight.”
They walked together through the living room, and May pointed to her bedroom door. Chandler helped her to the doorway, and she moved away from him. “I appreciate the help. But I believe I can take care of the rest of it. You’re welcome to wait here until the electricity comes on. I have a weather radio in the kitchen. You may want to turn it on.” May shut the door and then leaned heavily back onto it.
She wasn’t shivering from the cold. More to it than that. May clenched her fists at her side. Being pressed up against her young neighbor. And wasn’t she just a dirty old woman to even entertain thoughts like that?
May snorted and stripped out of her clothes in the dark on her way to the bathroom. Spring storms weren’t uncommon for their area. But the suddenness of this one had been rather odd. “Twenty percent, my ass,” she muttered.
She grabbed a couple of towels and put them on the floor before she walked across it and turned on the water to the tub. Then she lit the dozen candles propped up around the tub. Probably shouldn’t be taking a bath in this weather, but May would be damned if she stayed in her freezing clothes another minute and didn’t at least try to warm up.
The water ran hot, and May eased her body into it with a satisfied sigh. Oh yes. This is much better. And maybe Chandler would be gone when she finally eased out of the heavenly water. Probably wouldn’t be much longer and the electricity would come back on.
But it still wasn’t on as she pulled the plug on the tub and stepped out. May grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it tightly around herself.
She felt so much better. The awkwardness with her neighbor would go away. Really nothing to it. So he was young and smelled all nice and spicy.
“Dirty old woman.” May chuckled and shook her head. That would certainly put an end to his rescue efforts on her behalf. She shuffled out of the bathroom and onto her bedroom carpet. The flashlight lay on her dresser, and she turned it on and shone it toward her closet. Walking around looking like a bag lady not an option. Not that it would matter anyway.
May scowled and dropped her towel. “Screw it,” she muttered. “I’ll wear whatever the hell I want.” She walked slowly to the closet and opened the door.
“May!”
She shrieked and stepped into the closet.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she croaked as her pulse raced. “Just let me get dressed, okay?”
“Sure.” Chandler’s footsteps faded down the hall.
“For the love of God.” May trembled as she pulled down a peach cotton pantsuit. She stepped into it and pulled her thick hair back in a damp ponytail.
The storm still raged on outside. Lightning
flashed every couple of seconds, and the thunder seemed to be a never-ending torrent of rumbles.
May dressed quickly and blew out the candles in the bathroom. She kept the flashlight clenched tightly in her hand as she left her room and ventured back toward the kitchen. Lack of electricity not much of a bother when she started to worry whether one of the lightning strikes would spark a fire.
The storm raged loudly outside. The only sound inside the weather station on the radio informing them that they were in a severe thunderstorm warning.
“You think?” Chandler mumbled and scowled.
May chuckled, and he looked up. She bit back her laughter. Tufts of dark brown hair stuck up on his head where she could tell he yanked on it. More than likely from frustration and fear. He had found her stash of candles and had lit at least half a dozen of them around her kitchen.
“Where did you move from, Chandler?”
“Wisconsin.” His brown eyes were worried. “Lots of snow. Not so much with the light show.”
She nodded and moved into the kitchen carefully. “It’s beautiful, though, isn’t it? The brilliant white light and the earth rumbling in response?” May studied the stiff set of Chandler’s shoulders. He sat there beyond tense.
“Let me make you something to eat. What would you like?”
“How long do these things usually last?”
The thunder rumbled so loudly the windows shook. Chandler’s hands gripped the top of the table so hard his knuckles were white.
May reached in her refrigerator for some green tea and poured both of them a glass. No way in hell would she offer him coffee or soda. She’d have to peel him off the ceiling.
“It depends on the size of the storm and the direction it’s going,” she replied easily and offered him a glass.
He took it and smiled gratefully. “Not only is your neighbor a bit needy, he seems to greatly dislike storms.”
May patted his other hand. “All of us dislike something. It won’t last forever.” She started to move her hand when he turned his over and threaded his fingers through hers. She glanced up, startled.
Chandler’s dark brown eyes were intense in the dimly lit kitchen. “Thank you, May.”
Earth Goddess Page 3
