"Come on, Max," he called to the dog. "Let's go."
No response at all from Max. He didn't even blink.
Sam snapped his fingers again.
Max refused to budge. The dog rested his head on his forelegs and wagged his tail.
"You too, huh?"
Max wagged his tail harder. Nothing short of filet mignon was going to move him from that spot. The place felt like home to him and the dog saw no good reason to leave.
And that was that.
Life's big decisions weren't always made after days of somber deliberation. Sometimes a man just got lucky and his dog made the decision for him. The woman with the sad blue eyes had cast a spell over both him and Max, and only the dog was smart enough to know they should wait around a while and see where it was headed.
Sam climbed into the truck and gunned the engine. He hoped the hardware store opened early.
#
Once Annie's stomach finally decided to quit doing somersaults, she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and was about to leave the bathroom when she noticed her beautiful green robe hanging over the shower rod. The sight sent a chill up her spine.
Half of the sash was charred black, as was a six-inch swath on the right side of the robe. Annie's fingers trembled as she folded the robe and tossed it in tiny trash can next to the sink. How many floral arrangements had she sold over the years meant for victims of house fires? The number was well into triple digits. A misplaced cigarette. Faulty wiring. Candles left unattended.
An idiot woman with too much champagne and too little common sense.
He hadn't exaggerated. If anything, he had soft-pedaled the story. The man had saved her life – yes, probably saved it twice if her hangover was any indication of her level of inebriation – and she had railed at him as if he'd committed a crime against humanity. So what if he had seen her naked. The sight of her unclothed body was hardly likely to send him into a fit of wild desire. The man had been too busy keeping her from either going up in flames or underwater to waste any time on lust.
At the very least she owed him an apology, not to mention a home-cooked breakfast.
He wasn't in the living room, the bedroom, or the kitchen. The spare room was stacked high with boxes, some of which he'd used to hold the front door in place. An engine roared to life in her driveway and she flew out the back door in time to see him turn the corner and disappear.
Great going, Galloway. The man saves your life and you send him packing.
She started back inside, shivering in the brisk morning air. It was probably for the best. She had more on her plate these days than she could handle. Besides, he might be married with five kids, just like she'd imagined yesterday in the parking lot. He could just imagine the story he would tell his wife. Yeah, she finally woke up and can you believe it? She didn't even bother to thank me for saving her life.
"Idiot," she muttered to herself as she climbed the three stairs that led to the back door. Why was she getting herself all tied up in knots over a stranger? It must be last night's champagne that had her emotions rippling so close to the surface. She wasn't one of those women whose eyes teared up over babies and kittens and sappy love songs. She drew her arm across her eyes, wetting the sleeve of his shirt. It smelled like him, a touch of citrus, a touch of spice, a touch of something indefinable. Her bed probably smelled like him too. The thought made her go weak in the knees.
So do a load of wash and put yourself out of your misery.
There was nothing like housework to bring a woman back down to earth. A capful of Tide and some hot water and these ridiculous fantasies would be history. She reached for the doorknob and heard a joyous bark. Max? It couldn't be! She turned in time to see the yellow Lab bounding around the corner of the house, headed straight in her direction. He leaped against her, almost knocking her into the kitchen with the force of his affections. Every excited yip was like nails on a blackboard but she'd never been happier to feel more miserable in her life.
If Max was still here, that meant Max's owner would be coming back and she would be able to thank him properly for saving her life. And she wouldn't even be naked.
She settled Max in the living room with a half slice of leftover pizza, cleaned George and Gracie's litterbox, then set out to perform a miracle. It was going to take every trick in her beauty arsenal to erase the effects of the night before but she was determined to give it her best shot. She hadn't devoured all those issues of Vogue and In Style magazines for nothing.
Ceil's comments about her well-padded form still stung. She rooted through the pile of clothes on her bed in search of something that would make her round body look long and skinny. George and Gracie watched from their perch on the window sill as the bed all but disappeared beneath a mountain of discards. She finally managed to dig up a flattering pair of black bootleg pants and her favorite red sweater, the one that hung long enough to camouflage those treacherous hips and thighs.
She wrote down "full length mirror" on a notepad and underlined it twice. Standing on the closed toilet seat to see her reflection in the bathroom mirror would get old very fast. She put the finishing touches on her hair. Not great, she thought, but adequate. Her hair was still long and it was still curly and it would probably always look like an untended garden. She pressed her hand on the top of her head in an attempt to flatten some of the puffy places but they sprang back the second she let go. She had been born with big hair and she would die with big hair.
Annie popped an Altoid in her mouth then peeked out the living room window. Maybe he had left Max behind as a housewarming present.
At 8:22, Annie told herself to get away from the window and do something useful. A few dozen cardboard boxes waited in the spare room, clamoring for her attention. It wouldn't hurt to unpack a few while she waited. Besides, that would put the whole ridiculous thing into perspective. Oh hi, she would say when he finally showed up. I was so busy that I didn't even realize you were gone.
At 8:40, she refilled George and Gracie's water dishes, replenished their supplies of cat chow, then gathered up her tote bag, wallet, and extra sweater and headed for the back door. She might as well go to work. She didn't have time to do the front door repair herself but it would hold until evening.
"How do you feel about flower shops?" she asked Max. He could be the store mascot as long as he didn't find blossoms as appetizing as pepperoni pizza.
Max cocked an ear and barked.
Annie winced. "Max, if you knew about hangovers, you wouldn't do that to me."
Max wagged his tail and barked again, three times in quick succession, then ran to the front door as a black Trooper with New York plates came to a stop at the edge of her driveway.
She opened the back door and Max burst out in a frenzy of barking and what she assumed to be the canine equivalent of high-fives as his owner rounded the corner of the house.
"I'm sorry," she said, meeting him halfway. The words tumbled out of her unchecked. "You really did save my life. I don't know how I can ever thank you for what you did." Not the elegant response she had planned but at least it was heartfelt.
He stopped a few feet away from her. He held two large white paper bags aloft and out of Max's reach. "How're you feeling?" His manner was a little subdued and who could blame him. She hadn't exactly been Miss Congeniality so far this morning.
"I'll live, but I doubt I'll be drinking champagne again anytime soon."
"You might think twice about the candles too."
She shivered at the memory of her ruined robe. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there."
"Max sounded the alarm," he said, neatly sidestepping her gratitude. "He ran up to your front porch and tried to scratch his way through the door." He told her about the red glow behind the bathroom window and the smell of smoke. "So far I've managed to trash the inside of your car and wreck your front door. That's one hell of an introduction to your new neighbor."
The fishing rods in the back of the t
ruck. The New York State license plates. The fact that he even knew Bancroft Road existed. "You're Warren's friend?"
"Guilty."
"I thought you were old and retired."
"I thought you were just old."
"Annie Galloway," she said, extending her right hand over Max's furry yellow head. "I own Annie's Flowers in town."
"Sam Butler." He hesitated just long enough for her to notice. "On sabbatical."
"So you're not retired."
"At thirty-five?" His quick burst of laughter was tinged with something dark. "Nothing that permanent."
Their hands were still clasped tightly. Neither one was willing to be the first to break the contact. An edgy current of warmth seemed to move between them. Since Kevin's death, other men had approached her -- good-looking men, kind men, interesting men, men she had known and liked forever -- but not one of them had ever made her feel she wanted to bury her face against his chest and breathe deeply.
You did that last night, don't you remember? You slept with your nose pressed against the side of his neck and he held you and wouldn't let go.
She liked the way his hand felt clasping hers. So solid and warm. His fingers were rough, a little callused. A workman's hands. Hands that would know their way around a woman's body.
Get a grip, Galloway. Just because there was a man in your bed last night doesn't mean there was a Man in your Bed. Save your fantasies for Friday nights and the Romance Channel.
But she met his eyes and something clicked into place and it was as if she had been waiting all her life for that moment. It was the difference between black-and-white and Technicolor except that it wasn't a movie; it was her life. One second she was living her life in the half-sleep that she'd called living for so long, and then the next second her blood was bubbling through her veins and her temperature was rising and the world exploded in colors and sounds and smells she had all but forgotten existed. She knew there was no turning back, not even if she wanted to.
#
Sam probably would have stood there in the middle of her yard with her hand in his for a week or two if Max hadn't decided enough was enough. The dog made a running leap for one of the two white paper bags he had clutched in his left hand and it took some quick maneuvering to keep the donuts from going the way of last night's pepperoni pizzas.
"Good ol' Max," he said with a shake of his head and she laughed and reached for one of the bags.
"You went to Dee Dee's!" she said, peering inside.
"Me and everyone else in town. They were lined up out the door."
"If you think that's bad, you should see the line on Sunday morning. Father Luedtke threatened to say mass there one day. He thinks he'll triple attendance."
The soft approachable woman he'd first met in the parking lot of Yankee Shopper was back. He thought he'd lost her behind the slicked back hair and sleek outfit. Her wild mane was brushed back from her face and twisted into a heavy coil. Only a few wispy curls around her forehead and temples had managed to escape. Her lush curves were masked by black pants and a long red sweater with a metal zipper down the front. Her freckles were hidden behind some kind of light makeup as were the shadows beneath those dark blue eyes. As lovely as she looked right now, she had been infinitely more beautiful last night when she was naked in his arms.
"Dee Dee's donuts are legendary around here," she said, ushering him into the postage stamp-sized kitchen.
"A baker's dozen," he said. "I had to wait for the powdered sugars."
"You're off to a good start. First day here and you homed right in on the best bakery in town."
"Actually it's not my first day in Shelter Rock. I spent a few weeks here when I was seventeen. I probably put away a few hundred of her raspberry jellies."
"You're kidding!" She turned toward him, coffee filter waving between her fingers. "Aren't you?"
"Strange thing to kid about."
"This is such a tiny town. I'm surprised I don't remember you."
"Warren kept our noses to the grindstone. There wasn't much time to mingle with the townies."
"Still, if you hung around DeeDee's, I'm sure we must've crossed paths at least once."
"You probably had so many boyfriends hanging around you wouldn't have noticed the new guy in town."
"Just one," she said, "and I married him."
The poor bastard was dead and Sam still envied him.
"Nancy told me," he said. "I'm sorry."
Her only acknowledgment was a slight nod of her head. "Stay here long enough and you'll know everything there is to know about everyone in town."
"All she told me was that you were a widow."
She faked a shudder. "I hate that word. I keep waiting for someone to call me the Widow Galloway and then I'll be forced to do something violent."
"I've been called a hell of a lot worse than the Widow Galloway."
She looked at him then burst into laughter. If possible, he found himself more charmed than before. Her laugh was rich and full and as real as she was.
"Ouch!" She winced and closed her eyes. "Cheap champagne should come with a warning label."
"Other than the head, is everything okay?" Do you feel it too, Annie Galloway, or am I the only one?
He watched, mesmerized, as color flooded her throat and cheeks.
"Mostly I feel embarrassed," she said. We spent the night together and I don't have the slightest idea what happened between us.
"No reason to be."
She lifted a brow. "I got drunk in my bathtub and set fire to my robe. Sounds like two pretty good reasons to me." I wish I could remember how it felt in your arms.
"You dodged a bullet. You should be happy." I can still smell your perfume on my skin.
"I wouldn't have dodged anything if you hadn't come along."
"I'd like to take the credit but Max was the one who sounded the alarm." .
"I don't think Max put out the fire." My hands are shaking. Can you believe that?I'm thirty-eight years old and my hands are trembling like a girl's. "You saved my life. I'm not sure I can ever thank you enough for that."
"You just did."
"I wasn't very nice to you this morning."
"You weren't that bad."
"I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"At least you didn't hit me in the head with a lamp."
"I wish you'd stop making me laugh," she said. "My head might fall off."
Your laugh is as real as you are, Annie Galloway. I wish you'd never stop. "Coffee, aspirin, and donuts. World's best hangover remedy."
She glanced down at the filter in her hand. "Coffee! I knew I was forgetting something. Let me get a pot started for us before the donuts get cold."
He popped a piece of donut in his mouth, then broke off another piece.
"Here you go."
She was juggling coffee filter and measuring spoon. "Just a sec," she said. "Let me –"
"Open," he said. "Grab 'em while they're hot."
"I'll just be a –"
He popped the sweet piece of donut into her open mouth and laughed at the way her eyes widened with surprise that was followed quickly by delight. A spot of powdered sugar stained her lower lip and he brushed it away with the tip of his index finger. Her eyes never left his. There was no guile in them, no pretense. Just curiosity and the same touch of wonder he felt growing inside his chest. The atmosphere between them was charged. He swore he could hear the pop and sizzle of neurons dancing in the air.
I want to kiss you, Annie Galloway. Don't turn me away.
He dipped his head toward her. She swayed closer.
Don't ask, she thought. Don't give me the chance to say no.
Their lips touched lightly then touched again.
"You taste like sugar," he said.
"You taste like raspberry jam." Were donuts occasions of sin anywhere besides Shelter Rock Cove? She would have to ask Father Luedtke about that.
He reached into the bag and produced another donut. "This one's s
trawberry."
The temptation to indulge was powerful but she stayed strong.
"I'd better not. Once I start I might not stop."
He earned full marks for letting the straight line slide by without the easy double entendre but somehow the temperature in the room still managed to rise another degree.
"You're not one of those lettuce-leaves-and-water types, are you?"
"With these hips? I was issued a weight watchers' warning yesterday and I'm thinking Ceil just might be right."
"This Ceil must have a problem with her eyesight." I know how you look beneath that red sweater, Annie Galloway. I know how you feel.
"Ceil works register one at Yankee Shopper and she doesn't exactly mince words with her customers. She's right. I have put on a few pounds."
He described Ceil down to the mole under her chin.
"That's terrible," she said. "You shouldn't mention things like moles and wattles when you describe a woman."
"Why not?" he asked. "It's not like she doesn't have both."
"It's rude."
"Rude? That woman knew more about me than the IRS does."
"Ceil does keep a finger on the pulse of Shelter Rock."
"You mean she keeps her eye to the keyhole."
"Ceil is a little nosy."
"I'm surprised she didn't ask who I'm sleeping with."
"Good thing I'm not sleeping with anyone or --" Ohmigod, Annie, what have you done?
"Good thing," he said, not missing a beat, "because I'm not either."
Her entire body registered his words in one giant rush of almost ridiculous pleasure. Their eyes met and held above the bag of DeeDee's Donuts. If she didn't know better, she would swear she heard music somewhere in the distance.
"Good thing," she repeated.
A very good thing.
Chapter Five
Claudia was beside herself by the time Hall walked into Annie's Flowers and asked if Annie was around. He had seen her in various states of emotional anxiety before but this one was off the chart.
"I haven't seen or heard from her all morning and it's almost ten o'clock," Claudia said, tugging the leaves off a perfectly good yellow rose. "She should have been in here by eight forty-five the latest."
A Soft Place to Fall (Shelter Rock Cove) Page 8
