by Afton Locke
“I thought I made myself clear yesterday,” Father said. “Under no circumstances will I allow you to court my daughter.”
Rose drifted back to the window, putting her ear against the screen.
“I understand that, sir,” Leroy replied. “I came to offer my services as a handyman. I can work every evening.”
She danced on the floorboards. How clever of him to find an excuse to be near her.
“As you can see,” Father replied. “I’m doing the repairs myself.”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Wainwright, but the way you’ve nailed that board…well, it ain’t going to hold.”
Rose squeezed her eyes shut. Father criticized others, not the other way around.
“Oh? And how would you do it?”
Leroy rattled off some instructions she didn’t catch every word of.
“I have construction experience. I work cheap too,” Leroy went on. “A home-cooked meal would be payment enough.”
Although she couldn’t see the men, Rose pictured her father crossing his arms. “You must think I’m a fool. You’re obviously here to see my daughter. I repeat, we do not need your services.”
“All right.” Leroy’s voice sounded lower, weighed down with disappointment. “But if I were you, I’d make cutting that grass your first priority. You wouldn’t want any snakes getting close to the house.”
“Thank you for the advice. Now kindly get back on your bicycle and be on your way.”
Don’t go!
Father resumed his hammering, followed by the loudest curse yet.
“You all right, Mr. Wainwright?” Leroy asked.
“I’m fine. I just struck my thumb with the hammer.”
The screen door banged. Father must have come inside to tend to his finger. She should help, but a flash of movement near the bicycle caught her eye. It was Leroy, a mirage in the early evening light. His muscular frame and broad shoulders filled out his simple tan shirt, making the fabric conform to his body as if it were a glove. Rolled-up sleeves revealed dark, powerful forearms.
His matching trousers fit snugly as well. Against her will, her gaze drifted to the powerfully bundled muscles of his behind as he bent over the bicycle. She should have touched it when they were alone in the car. Was it as firm as it looked?
A blush scalded her cheeks when that hidden part of her anatomy kindled to life again. What was this strange effect he had on her? Just looking at him tightened the tips of her breasts and dampened her bloomers.
She whistled to get his attention.
He straightened and froze, likely wondering if he’d heard a bird. She whistled again and a flash of white teeth rewarded her as he gazed up at her window. When he stepped closer, she wondered what to do next. She’d gotten to look at him again. What now?
Once he got on that bicycle, he’d never come back. She had to do something and didn’t have much time. As soon as Father tended to his finger, he’d go back outside and hasten Leroy’s departure.
“I tried to—” he began, holding his palms up.
“I know.” She spoke in the loudest whisper she dared. “Meet me tomorrow at noon.”
A shadow crossed his face before he nodded. “Sure. Where?”
It would probably not be easy to get away from his day job. She pointed directly out the window where the St. Mary’s River lay in the distance, hidden from the house by several leafy trees.
“The riverfront,” she said. “We’ll have a picnic.”
She had no idea how she’d manage it without her parents’ knowledge, but she’d figure out a way.
“That sounds fine. Real fine.” His smile was so wide and radiant she ached to fly out the window and kiss him again.
Rose blew him a kiss and fluttered her hand, wanting him to be gone before Father came back outside.
The screen door banged again. Too late.
“What are you doing still skulking around my property?” Father demanded.
“I-I was just leaving, sir,” Leroy said, sounding much more cheerful than he had when he’d arrived. “Have a pleasant evening.”
The bicycle squeaked as the man of her dreams pedaled away. She leaned on the windowsill and thanked the fairies again.
One more thing, if you don’t mind. Please let tomorrow go smoothly. I won’t do anything unladylike. I just want to talk to him and spend time with him.
But the fairies probably knew what she didn’t want to admit. If she and Leroy Johnson were alone together in such a beautiful setting, anything could happen.
* * * * *
The next day, Leroy and Caleb stood on the makeshift pier at Pearl Point. The smell of warm, salty water pressed around them while insects sang from the thickets of marsh grass. The blue sky didn’t show a single cloud.
It was a fine day for a picnic. Leroy had dreamed about Rose again last night. He hoped spending some time with her would stop them. At this rate, he wouldn’t get much peaceful rest. What would she wear today? What would they eat?
Hell, he didn’t care what they ate as long as he could taste those sweet lips again. This time he would kiss her, not the other way around, and take his time about it. He planned to eventually explore every inch of her.
Had his boss said something?
“One of the things I want to do eventually is dredge out some of this area so we can get bigger boats in here,” Caleb said.
Leroy adjusted his cap. “You’re the boss.”
The other man looked down and scuffed at the half-rotten wood with his shoe. “But the first priority is rebuilding this.”
“Absolutely.” Leroy wondered how he was going to fit that in between building sturdier cabins. Maybe they’d have to freeze through another winter.
His boss sent a playful punch into his arm. “We’ll get there eventually.”
Leroy’s stomach churned while he watched one of the workers carry out a stack of empty oyster baskets. It was ten in the morning already. He’d put it off long enough. If he was to join Rose for that picnic today, he needed to ask for a two-hour lunch break. One hour to spend with her and a half-hour bike ride each way.
“Sir, I—”
Caleb’s pale blue eyes reproached him. “Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me sir? Pearl and I couldn’t have built a life here without you. You’re my right-hand man.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rockfield,” Leroy replied.
“No Mr. Rockfield either. It’s Caleb. Remember, the lumber for the new pier will be delivered today around one o’clock.”
His heart dropped faster than a stone into water. “That’s today?”
Caleb raised a brow. “You’ve got something better to do?”
“As a matter of fact, I made lunch plans. I meant to ask you sooner. Aw, hell.”
The other man’s eyes grew cold. “You’re not moonlighting, are you?”
Leroy wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. “No, nothing like that.”
If Mr. Wainwright had given him the handyman job, though, he would be. Rose sure complicated his simple life.
Caleb’s moustache twitched with a smile. “It’s that girl you met, isn’t it?”
Leroy’s smile of relief nearly exploded off his face. “She invited me to a picnic at noon.”
“Well, that sounds a lot more exciting than unloading lumber. You go and have a good time. I’ll hold down the fort.”
“You mean that?” He clapped the man’s arm. “Thanks. You’re the best, Mr. Rockfield…Caleb.”
“Just this one time, you hear? And I expect you to work twice as hard when you get back this afternoon.”
“You got it.”
Hot damn. This was the best job he’d ever had. He’d do anything to keep Caleb happy, and if he could have Rose too, life would be better than good.
* * * * *
Rose’s hands shook as she prepared egg-salad sandwiches for the picnic. The simple kitchen with its big cheery window over the sink was already her favorite room in this house.
She c
ould hardly believe she’d see Leroy again. This was even better than having him be a handyman. If he spent his time at the house, they’d always be under Father’s watchful eye. This way, they could be alone.
“I thought I smelled something cooking. Thank you for preparing lunch.”
Rose dropped her spoon at her mother’s unexpected voice. “I was going to bring you up a sandwich and a glass of iced tea.”
With disappointment, she noticed Mother wore her striped seersucker summer dress instead of her bathrobe. Then she chastised herself for wishing her ill.
Ella Wainwright stretched. “No need for that. I’m feeling better.”
Rose kissed her on the cheek. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Mother frowned as she looked around. “Why do you have the picnic basket out? And why have you made so many sandwiches?”
“I-I’m very hungry today.” It was the furthest thing from the truth. Her stomach was clenched tighter than a fist. “I thought I’d take lunch along when I go outside to paint.”
Mother clasped her hands together. “A picnic. What a marvelous idea. We’ll all go.”
No!
“Oh, Charles,” she called out. “Where are you? Rose has prepared a picnic for us.”
No! No! No! She must be the world’s biggest fool to think she could actually make this picnic with Leroy work. If Father saw him again, he’d probably kick him all the way into the next county.
Father walked inside from the front porch, his wavy, black hair slick with sweat as was the rest of his face. A loose bandage clung to the thumb he must have struck last evening.
“A picnic? You two go and leave me a sandwich. I need to cut the grass so we won’t have any snakes coming around here.”
By the way he emphasized the word snake, Rose knew he referred to Leroy.
“All right,” Mother agreed. “I could use some fresh air.”
Rose suppressed her sigh of frustration. Instead of a picnic for two, it would be a picnic for three. That was the proper way to do it, of course, but Leroy Johnson made her feel anything but proper.
After Father went back outside, she put the sandwiches inside the basket. “Let’s gather everything we’ll need.”
“I’ll need a chair. The last time I sat on the damp ground, my head was stuffy enough to explode the next day.”
“Yes, Mother.”
It could be worse, Rose told herself. Father could be coming too. She’d have to figure out a better way for her and Leroy to meet alone in the future. As soon as they’d gathered the picnic basket, quilt and a foldable wooden chaise lounge chair, Father came in again.
“Do you need help carrying anything?” he asked.
“No, no,” Rose said too quickly. “We’re fine.”
The disapproval on his face raised the hairs rise on the back of her neck. He knew.
“Aren’t you forgetting something important?”
“I left your sandwich on the table,” she pointed out.
“Your parasol.” His glare deepened. “You know you mustn’t go out into the sun without it.”
Relief and exasperation hit her at the same time. “Of course. I forgot.”
As she ran upstairs to fetch it, she cursed the vile thing. She wanted to feel the sun on her skin. Maybe then she’d be dark enough to make Leroy a suitable match.
By the time she and Mother got on their way, Rose realized they’d be a bit late. Would Leroy think she’d chosen not to meet him? She hastened her steps, unable to bear the thought of his leaving before they arrived.
“Rose, please do slow down,” Mother said, out of breath. “I can’t keep up with you.”
She sighed. Perhaps the woman could move faster if she didn’t carry anything. Even though Rose already juggled the quilt and chair while keeping the silly parasol over her head, she also reached for the picnic basket.
“You can’t possibly carry all that,” the other woman said.
“We’re almost there.”
As soon as the river appeared, so did Leroy. He stood leaning against a big oak tree, next to his bicycle. Looking worriedly at his watch, he stared into the distance.
Mother froze mid-stride. “What’s he doing here? Rose, how could you?”
“I had to see him. We’ll have a fine picnic together, the three of us.”
Understanding and disapproval stiffened Mother’s face beneath the wide-brimmed hat she wore.
“A picnic I wasn’t invited to. You planned to be alone with him, didn’t you?”
“If Father had given him permission to court me, we wouldn’t have to meet secretly.”
He must have heard their voices because he walked in their direction.
“If your father finds out about this,” Mother whispered.
“He won’t. Will he?” Rose whispered back.
The tense lines in Mother’s face softened. “I suppose not, but this is the last time I’ll keep secrets for you, young lady. You must say goodbye to him today.”
Before Rose could agree or disagree, Leroy approached.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Wainwright. It’s nice to see you again,” he said.
His smile looked stiff as if he were trying to hide the disappointment that also kicked Rose in the chest.
“I must say, it’s a surprise to see you again,” Mother replied.
“Yes, ma’am.” He held out his hands. “Let me carry your things, Rose.”
When she handed him the basket and chair, his strong fingers brushed hers, sending delightful chills up her arms.
“Will Mr. Wainwright be joining us?” he asked.
“No, he’s busy with the house.”
His shoulders lifted at least an inch, even though he took the things from her to carry. “I see.”
Mother pointed to a spot near the riverbank where the grass was low and some ducks bobbed in the current. “That looks like a nice spot, don’t you think?”
It was a perfect place to paint. Sheltering vines mellowed some of the bright sun and wild forest lined the opposite shore. Rose just nodded, not caring if they sat on a mudflat.
If they were alone, Leroy would probably be giving her a greeting kiss right now. Once they laid out the quilt and took out the sandwiches, bottle of tea and cups, however, she realized this meal would be much easier than the awkward dinner they’d shared. After all, courting couples usually had chaperones. Maybe she and Leroy could at least talk privately away from her mother after they ate.
While he unfolded the chair to face the water and helped Mother into it, Rose sat on the quilt with her legs tucked under her. Leroy lay on his side, propping his torso up with one elbow. His light green shirt was similar to the one he’d worn yesterday, but this time she had a closer view of him. Above his shirt button, she noticed the occasional spiral of black, coarse hair on his chest, and he smelled faintly of sun-warmed wood and hard work.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to clean up and change from work,” he said. “I didn’t have much time.”
“Was it difficult to get away?” she asked as they ate the sandwiches.
He shrugged. “I missed a lumber delivery, but the boss was understanding when I told him about you.”
Meeting hadn’t been easy for either of them, she realized.
“You must have an important job,” Mother said.
Rose frowned. The voice was an intrusion into the world she and Leroy had been building, reminding her they weren’t alone. She frowned again, but at her selfish thoughts this time. How rude she’d been, ignoring her own mother.
“Yes, ma’am,” Leroy replied. “I’m very lucky to have it. Next to my family, it’s the most important thing in my life.”
“What do you like about it?” Rose asked.
He looked down at his hands. “Building something with these. Leaving my mark while I earn an honest living.”
She couldn’t resist tracing a finger over his palms. The firm strength in them enticed her to touch more of him until her mother cleared her thr
oat.
“The most important thing in my life is art,” Rose declared.
He cocked his head with interest. “Why is that?”
She’d never thought about it until he asked. “I can create whatever I want. Any color and any shape are mine for the choosing. No one can tell me they’re wrong.”
“Sounds like we’re both creators,” Leroy replied as he looked around him. “This would be a pretty spot to paint.”
“Oh, do,” Mother said. “It would look delightful and our house has so many walls to cover.”
He smiled at Rose, the curve of his strong lips bringing their first kiss back to mind. “The painting I saw looked professional. Do you sell them?”
Rose shook her head.
“Maybe you should. Talent like that shouldn’t go to waste. My cousin plays the piano, but she’s too busy nowadays to do it.”
We’re both creators. Oh, the things she could create with this man…
After eating half her sandwich, Rose took a deep breath. This picnic was turning out rather well. If Leroy was disappointed to have her mother along, he didn’t show it. He acted polite and seemed to get along well with her.
He looked at her with intense interest. “That blue dress you’ve got on today is real pretty. It’s the color of water.”
“Thank you. It’s periwinkle.”
“Peri—who?”
She laughed. “It’s the name of the color. I sound like an artist, don’t I?”
When he touched Rose’s sleeve, sampling the cotton texture, her body ached to lie next to him and be crushed inside the box of those strong arms. Thank goodness the sleeve reached her elbow. If he touched her skin, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to control herself.
Next, he tugged on the ruffled edge of her ivory-colored parasol. “I don’t think it’s going to rain today, though.”
She smiled, wishing she could toss the vile thing in the river. “It’s for the sun. My skin is very sensitive.”
Let him think that instead of telling him the truth—her father wanted a white daughter.
His fingers trailed down to her wrist, kindling a small fire in her bloomers. “I expect it is, being so pale and all.”
