The Two-date Rule

by Tawna Fenske

  His father watched him for a long time, then nodded. “If that’s what works for you.”

  Did it work? It had for a long time, his whole adult life.

  Willa’s face flashed in his mind, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Chapter Twelve

  On the other side of the house, Willa was getting a lesson on welding. Welding, of all things. Didn’t moms knit or bake?

  Willa wouldn’t know. Growing up without a mom had left her with lots of gaps in her memories and in her understanding of how family life worked. Familiar longing grabbed hold of her throat and squeezed, and it was all she could do to keep her focus on what Grady’s mom was teaching her.

  “We’re just going to do a little light brazing at these joints right here,” Sheryl explained.

  When Willa had complimented the ornate fireplace grate in the living room, one of Grady’s sisters had proudly announced it was Sheryl’s work.

  Sheryl had demurred. “It’s just a little hobby I picked up to pass the time when Allen was gone for work.”

  That had earned a snort laugh from another one of Grady’s sisters. “Ask her how long it took for her ‘hobby’ to become a lucrative secondary income for the family.”

  Sheryl had blushed prettily and waved aside her daughter’s boasting. “I’ve been very lucky,” she’d said. “It turns out ornate metalwork is a popular trend in all the vacation homes people are snapping up around here.”

  The oldest sister—was it Angie?—had rolled her eyes. “And talent has nothing to do with it.”

  “It’s fun,” Sheryl had reiterated with a little more steel in her voice this time. “It’s just for me.”

  Now, out in the garage, Willa adjusted her protective goggles as she struggled to focus, to be a perfect pupil. “Brazing is welding?”

  “They’re similar, but brazing is a bit easier for beginners,” Sheryl explained. “Lower heat and no melting of base metals.”

  “Got it.” She wasn’t positive she did, but she was eager to learn.

  “We want to start by heating the brazing rod, just like this.”

  Willa obeyed, surprised when the brazing rod liquefied quickly and seeped into the seam between the two lengths of metal. “Wow, that’s beautiful.”

  Sheryl laughed. “It is, isn’t it? Just move the flame back and forth there like you’re painting it.”

  “Is it okay that it’s clumping?”

  “Not a problem.” Sheryl smiled behind her own protective goggles. “You can ease off the heat a little if you want, but those little bumps will get sanded down later anyway. There! Perfect.”

  Willa switched off the torch, just like Sheryl had showed her, and admired the angled joint on her own nearly completed TV tray. She had a new appreciation for Sheryl’s talent. “You’re a great teacher,” she said. “My dad is going to love this.”

  “I hope it’s handy.” She plucked the torch from Willa’s hands and started packing away tools. “We’ll let it cool and do some cleanup on it later. You did a terrific job.”

  Willa wandered around the workshop, admiring some of the completed metalwork on display. There were tons of wall-mounted pieces showing herds of deer or ornate lettering that urged some unnamed deity to bless this mountain home.

  Sheryl certainly kept busy.

  Willa turned back to where the other woman was hanging Willa’s borrowed welder’s apron on a peg. “You said you started doing this when your kids were still at home?”

  “Most of them were.” Sheryl turned, and in that instant, Willa saw a misty cloud pass over the other woman’s face.

  Willa held her breath. Had she overstepped? Or opened some door Sheryl didn’t want to walk through? A lifetime of being motherless had left her awkward and uncertain in dealing with moms at all.

  Sheryl nodded, like she’d decided something. “Allen was gone constantly when the kids were younger,” she said. “You’ve seen Grady’s schedule, of course.”

  Willa nodded. “He’s gone a lot.”

  “It was much worse twenty years ago. So much worse.” Sheryl leaned forward on her elbows, a conspiratorial posture that had Willa leaning in the same way. “They’d be gone for months at a time. Literally—there was one stretch I didn’t see him at all for four months.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope,” she said. “That’s the way it was then. And with a big family, we needed to keep the income flowing year-round, so he spent winters working fire season on the other side of the equator. Australia, New Zealand—he’d bring back a lot of stories and some great souvenirs, but we missed him like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “I can imagine.” Willa swallowed and tried to imagine not seeing Grady for that long. It surprised her how hollow the thought made her feel. “It must have been like getting to know each other all over again.”

  “It was,” Sheryl agreed. “Anyway, learning to weld—having this little bit of autonomy—that’s what helped get me through the worst of it.” She laughed and looked down at her hands. “And I won’t lie, the extra money helped.”

  Money. It always came back to money, didn’t it?

  Sheryl looked up, even though Willa hadn’t spoken out loud. “It’s about balance more than anything,” Sheryl said softly. “Doing what you need to do to survive but making sure there’s something left over for you. For the people who love you.”

  Willa nodded, hardly daring to breathe. Balance. Was this what mothers taught their children? She’d known Grady’s mom only a few hours but already felt an attachment to her that went beyond this family dinner. She’d always wished for a connection just like this.

  “Thank you,” Willa said. “For the dinner and…well, for all of this.”

  Sheryl smiled. “You’re welcome. We’ve loved having you here.” She straightened up and untied the welding apron she’d donned over her clothes. “Are you close with your parents?”

  A fiery hot knot cinched up in Willa’s chest. “I— My mother’s gone, and my father… It’s complicated.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Sheryl touched her arm. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Something about the kindness in Sheryl’s eyes cracked Willa’s heart wide open. “I lost my mother when I was little. My father…it didn’t bring out his best side.”

  Sheryl frowned. “Was he abusive?”

  Willa shook her head and glanced down. “Not the way you’re thinking. He was an alcoholic. Is an alcoholic. He’s still alive.”

  If you could call her father’s present state living.

  Willa’s words seemed to suck the air from the room. She didn’t breathe, afraid she’d just branded herself as damaged goods. Or worse, that she’d inspired pity in this woman she’d grown to admire.

  Sheryl held her gaze, not flinching, not judging, just looking into Willa’s eyes. “That must be difficult,” she said softly. “You’re welcome to borrow our family anytime.”

  “Thank you.” She dropped her gaze, afraid to let Sheryl see how deeply those words moved her. How badly she wanted to be part of this. “You have a great family.”

  Sheryl laughed. “I think I’ll keep them.” She turned and began inspecting Willa’s TV tray, flicking a rag over the surface. “It’s worth it, for the record.”

  Willa stared at the back of her head, struggling to keep up with the conversation. “What’s worth it?”

  “The struggle.” When Sheryl turned back, her blue eyes were misty. “Fighting to balance it all—work, family, love, marriage, some sense of self—that’s where you really find yourself.”

  “In the struggle?”

  “Yes.” Sheryl smiled. “It’s hard, but it’s wonderful, too.”

  Willa nodded, swallowing back the lump in her throat. “I can see that.”

  And she could. She really could. As she forced hers
elf to breathe in and out, to act normal, her heart rearranged itself around this new notion of family.

  …

  On the drive home, Grady seemed quiet. Willa studied the side of his face, wondering if she’d said something to upset him. Or maybe something had happened at his parents’ house.

  Maybe it was none of her business, but she found herself reaching out anyway.

  “You okay?”

  He glanced over and offered a tired smile. “Yeah. Just a little wiped.”

  “You’re back at the air center tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Probably an early flight. I’ll need to get there before the sun’s up, so I should call it a night.”

  “Oh. I thought—” She stopped herself, cheeks flaming. She knew better than to assume things, and how would she feel if he started making assumptions? It’s not like they had any claim to each other. No plans carved in stone.

  But it was in her nature to plan. To look forward to whatever came next. “I was figuring you’d sleep over,” she admitted.

  His gaze shifted to her face, and there was definite heat in his eyes. Raw, naked hunger. He wanted her, no doubt about it.

  “Can I take a rain check?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She managed to keep her tone breezy, keep any hint of disappointment from her voice.

  This was what she wanted. No commitments, no attachments. They’d only been on one real date. Why should she have any claim on his time?

  When his hand slid across the console and covered her bare knee, her whole body blazed to life. “Thanks for coming tonight,” he said. “My family loved you.”

  “I loved them. Thank you for inviting me.”

  His voice sounded weird and formal, so she didn’t say anything else as he pulled up in front of her house.

  When he killed the engine, he turned to face her in the car’s dim interior. “You had a good time?”

  She nodded, conscious of his hand on her knee. Of how badly she wanted him. “It must be nice being part of something like that,” she said. “Belonging. Feeling like a member of a team.”

  “I never really thought about it like that,” he said. “My family’s great, but they’re always just…there.”

  “That’s what I mean.” His hand moved up her leg, and she lost her train of thought for a second. “It’s safe. Secure. Like there’s always someone who has your back.”

  “You’re right,” he said, hand moving another inch and stealing her breath away. “Family’s a great safety net.”

  I want that.

  The thought flitted fast through her mind like a tiny bird, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she meant family or what Grady’s finger was doing along the seam of her knee.

  A movement in the front window caught her eye, and Willa tore her gaze off Grady to see Stevie with his nose pressed against the glass. For a sightless dog, he spent a lot of time smearing snot on the windows and staring out at the street.

  She turned back to Grady, touching the silver star pendant at her throat. “When did your mom start making money on her metal art?”

  Grady blinked, surprised by the question, and Willa hurried to backtrack. “I’m sorry; it’s none of my b—”

  “No, it’s fine.” He sounded bemused. “Let’s see, I must have been eight or nine, I guess. I just remember going to a lot of art fairs and farmers’ markets and stuff.”

  “That must have been nice,” she said. “For her, obviously. But also for your family. Having more security, I mean.”

  “I guess I didn’t think about it much then.” He scratched his chin, his other hand still anchored on her bare thigh. “Maybe I was too young. I do remember this conversation my parents had one night over dinner. My mom had just sold this piece to Sunriver Resort.”

  “Sounds like a big deal.”

  “It was,” he mused. “They must have paid her a lot. Anyway, my dad kept smiling and holding her hand and he said we could start buying real ice cream. Not that crappy, generic ice milk we’d been buying.”

  Willa laughed, but questions were swirling around in her head. “Was he threatened?” she asked. “By your mom making her own money?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I don’t think so, anyway. He always seemed proud of her.”

  Willa nodded, knowing she should drop the interrogation. She’d already been way too nosy.

  “I like your parents,” she said. “How they have each other’s backs. How they’ve stuck together even when it wasn’t easy.”

  Something passed through Grady’s eyes. Nostalgia, maybe, or some other flicker of emotion. “You’re right,” he said. “Kinda different having an outsider perspective on my family.”

  Outsider.

  He hadn’t meant it as an insult or even anything personal. She tried not to let it sting. A car slipped past, slicing through the moment with the beam of its headlights. Stevie barked, reminding her of the travesty of his empty food bowl.

  Willa nodded toward the house. “Can I talk you into coming in for a drink? I’ve got a nice Merlot that’ll go great with beef jerky roses.”

  He laughed and squeezed her knee. “You and I both know how it’ll end up if I come inside.”

  “How will it end up?” Her voice came out huskier than she expected, but the heat in Grady’s eyes matched the lava bubbling in her chest.

  “If I come inside, we’ll end up with you on your back and me buried deep inside you, and it will be the best fucking feeling in the world.”

  “Oh.” Willa shivered, touching her throat again. “And that would be bad?”

  “It would be fucking fantastic,” he said. “Just like it always is. But right now, the job comes first.”

  How many times had Willa said that herself? How many times had she told her dates that her career was first and foremost in her life, that she didn’t have time for relationships?

  There was no reason for it to sting hearing the echo of her own words in someone else’s voice. No reason at all, except—

  “So I’ll see you when you get back?” she asked.

  “Absolutely,” he said. “I’ll come straight here.”

  “No shower?”

  He laughed and pulled her close. “We can shower together,” he said. “Which, for the record, is not a date.”

  As he kissed her senseless, Willa wondered how long they could keep doing this.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Grady’s trip out to Northern California was uneventful, or as uneventful as jumping out of a plane into a fiery forest could be. He and the rest of the crew spent four days digging fire lines and sawing limbs in a thick, woodsy area sixty-five miles from the closest town.

  There was no phone service, so no texting with Willa. He tried not to feel bummed about that. She was busy with her work, and he was busy with his. That’s how it was supposed to be.

  But still, he missed her. Missed the passionate glint in those mossy-oak eyes, the way her hair fell across her face when she bent to pet Stevie. He missed her teasing over mini golf and the dimples he saw so rarely that they felt like a hard-earned victory when he managed to coax them out.

  By the time his crew finished mopping up the California fire, there was another blaze in Utah. Then Idaho, or was it Montana? They were all blurring together, a normal way of life for him and the rest of the crew as the summer grew hotter and forests got drier.

  On day twelve, he finally got a chance to text her.

  Grady: Taking a dinner break. I stink like you wouldn’t believe. Miss you.

  He expected a sassy response, some joke about him smelling awful all the time. Alarm arced through him when he saw her response in all caps.

  Willa: OHMYGOD YOU’RE OKAY????

  He frowned at his phone, stirring Spam mac and cheese over the propane camp stove while Bobby collected water nearb
y.

  Grady: Of course. What’s up?

  The little bubbles on the screen told him she was typing out a response before his had even gone through.

  Willa: It’s been on the news. Two smokejumpers badly injured in NE Oregon. I wasn’t sure where you were.

  Oh. Right.

  He’d heard about it, yeah. It had been all over the channels, and the crews were pretty upset. He hadn’t known either guy, both loaners from a crew in New Zealand. Even so, it gave him a sick feeling in his gut anytime something like that happened.

  It hadn’t even occurred to him that Willa would hear about it.

  Grady: I’m okay. Haven’t had phone service, so I couldn’t check in. Sorry you were worried.

  That wasn’t totally true. A tiny, selfish little part of him liked that she was worried about him. That she thought of him at all when he was gone.

  Willa: Totally understand. Just glad you’re okay. Stay safe.

  He typed back “you too,” which was dumb. She worked at home, where the biggest danger might be tripping over Stevie. Smiling to himself at the thought of her big, doofy dog, he finished stirring the Spam and switched off the gas.

  How nice would it be to curl up on Willa’s couch to eat dinner together? Or fall asleep in her warm bed with Stevie on the floor in the corner and Barrow nestled between his legs.

  But no, he couldn’t think that way. If Willa was determined to avoid anything serious between them, then he needed to do better at keeping walls built up. It’s why he’d turned down the sleepover invite before he left, even though he desperately, urgently wanted to fall asleep touching her body. It was better for both of them if they didn’t get attached.

  Right. Try telling that to his big, dumb heart. Or his brain, which kept drifting off to la-la land each night as he fell asleep under the stars. At first, it was normal stuff. Fantasies about snuggling Willa on the couch or riding the Harley with her arms and legs snug around him.

  Then the fantasies took absurd forms. Willa joining him at more family dinners, an engagement ring sparkling on her finger. Willa round and lush with a baby—his baby—in her belly.