“You’re our guest this time,” Whitney answered for her mother.
“This time?” One of Josh’s eyebrows arched and he gave her a lopsided smile. “Will there be other times?”
“Maybe. If you mind your manners,” Betty teased. “Now, if everybody will please sit down so J.T. can say the blessing, we’ll eat. I’m starved.”
Josh waited until he had seen where the others were going to sit so he could pull out chairs for both women. It was no surprise when Whitney ended up next to him on one side of the table and her parents occupied the other.
What did come as rather a shock was the poignant prayer her father offered to bless the food. Coming from the plain-speaking, gruff, older man, it reflected a tenderness, a love of God, that was totally unexpected.
So was the ambience that surrounded them. For the first time, Josh was beginning to understand why Whitney kept expressing sympathy for the way he’d been raised. His upbringing had not prepared him for this kind of family life. These people did have something special, something intangible that bound them together.
The sad part was that he was on the outside, looking in, and probably always would be. It was a comfort to pretend he was a part of their world for an hour or two, but the truth was clear.
He came from a totally different background. He and Whitney were poles apart. And no amount of wishing was ever going to change that fact.
Chapter Seven
If Whitney had not relished the very same meal the night before, she would have wondered what had happened to her mother’s culinary expertise. The food was identical, yet she could hardly force down a bite, let alone appreciate it.
Josh was seated politely to her right. As far as Whitney’s imagination was concerned, they might as well have been sharing the same chair! Everything about him seemed magnified, from his woodsy aftershave to the broad shoulders beneath the leather of his suede jacket.
His mere presence was overwhelming. She had thought it was strong when they’d sat in church together but that was mild compared to the vibes she was getting now.
Talk. Say something witty, she told herself. Nothing came to mind—except for the intense, unsettling feelings regarding their guest—and she could hardly voice those!
“This is delicious, Mrs. Leigh,” Josh said. “Whitney was right. You’re a wonder in the kitchen.”
“Thank you. But please, call me Betty.”
“Okay, Betty.” Josh put down his fork and leaned slightly forward as if to share a confidence with his hostess. “Tell me, did Whitney really almost burn the house down trying to cook?”
J.T. snorted. “Which time?”
Whitney could have crawled under the table with embarrassment. “Dad…”
She could tell from her father’s expression that he was not about to hold back when he had such a willing audience.
Striking a thinker’s pose, he drew his fingers and thumb down opposite sides of his jaw. When they met below his chin he nodded. “Let’s see. There was the time she was making hardboiled eggs and got distracted by something on her computer. The next thing we knew there was egg all over the ceiling.” He chortled. “Did you know that after the water is all boiled away those shells will blow up like a bomb? Well, they will. Threw gobs of egg everywhere. I thought somebody was setting off grenades in the kitchen.”
Whitney rested her forehead on her hand, elbow on the table, and moaned. “I’d forgotten all about that one.”
“Guess your folks haven’t,” Josh offered. He grinned across at his host. “Are there more?”
Betty elbowed her husband. “We’ve heard enough.”
“Aw, I was just getting to the best one. Remember the Christmas coffee cake?”
“The one where the fire department was called?” Josh asked. “She told me about that. Did she really set the oven for self-cleaning instead of bake?”
“Yup. Filled the whole place with so much smoke I didn’t think we’d ever get the smell out of the carpets. Betty had to buy new drapes.”
“Which we sorely needed,” the older woman said.
Whitney’s father was laughing softly and grinning, obviously recalling other incidents. She hoped he’d have the good sense to listen to her mother’s advice and keep them to himself.
Surprisingly, Josh came to her rescue. “Maybe you should save some of the funny stories for another time. I think your daughter is fighting the urge to kick you under the table and we wouldn’t want her to damage your sore knee.”
Did this mean that Josh was willing to revisit them? It sure sounded like it. Whitney caught her mother’s attention and arched an eyebrow.
Betty was ready. “Speaking of other times, how about joining us for Christmas dinner, Josh?”
“Well, I…”
“It won’t be fancy, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just the usual. Ham, candied yams, fruit salad, green beans and homemade pumpkin and mince pies.”
It took him a moment to answer. When he did, Whitney’s spirits soared and she had to stifle the wide grin that kept trying to take over her expression.
“I suppose we could consider it a trade,” Josh said. “J.T. gave me a laptop that needs repair. When I have it fixed and bring it back I’d love to share another meal with you. It doesn’t have to be on Christmas.”
“Of course not,” Betty said quickly. “You’re welcome here anytime. With or without the computer. And if you’re free on Christmas day you can come then, too. We always have plenty.”
“Mom could feed half the town,” Whitney added. “She makes enough to give us leftovers for a week.”
“That’s the easy way,” Betty said. “Years ago, when I was still working, I started cooking big batches of food that would last us for several days. There’s less cleanup that way, too.”
“Where did you work?” Josh asked.
“I was an insurance claims investigator,” Betty told him. “It was like a game to me. The more cheaters I managed to catch, the better I liked it.”
Josh’s attention went from one of the women to the other, settling on Whitney as his guilt blossomed. “Like mother, like daughter?”
“Not exactly,” Whitney countered. “Mom was chasing crooks. All I’ve done lately is write about engagements and weddings.” She took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. “I sure wish I could get the scoop on Mr. Moneybags and amaze my boss at the Gazette. He might even give me a byline.”
“Well,” Betty mused, “how about asking Josh to help you? He’s the computer expert. Maybe he can trace some facts for you.”
“Yes! Like the email addresses to the corporation that handled the funding! All my efforts were a dead end.”
Josh was shaking his head. He put his fork down with deliberately studied slowness and leaned away from the table. “Hacking is illegal.”
“It wouldn’t be hacking, per se,” Whitney countered. “All I need is for you to check some of the old emails that Coraline received and see if you can pinpoint their origins.”
“That sounds like hacking to me.”
Whitney shrugged. “Okay. If you won’t help me, I suppose I can find somebody else. Maybe one of the teens who frequents your store will be smart enough.”
He held up his hands, palms toward her, in surrender. “Okay. You’ve made your point. I can’t let you lead those innocent kids astray. Bring me the information and I’ll see what I can do.”
Delighted, Whitney high-fived one of his raised hands. “Deal!”
*
There was no way Josh was going to provide the information Whitney wanted in a timely manner, but he figured it was prudent to keep her from involving others in her quest. He knew full well where those email addresses would lead and whose name would eventually surface. His. At least his real name.
Given the nosy reporter’s keen mind, it would not take her long to figure out that Josh Smith and Josh Barton were one and the same. Surely he could continue to stall her for a few more weeks.
The mor
e he got to know Whitney, the more tempting it was to confide in her, although he knew better. She was dedicated to her job to the point where it posed a real threat to his anonymity. Once she knew everything, there was no way he could expect her to keep his secret. Not when she had been actively seeking his identity for almost six months.
Carrying her father’s broken laptop and standing at the Leighs’ door, he offered an amiable farewell.
“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, looking from Betty to J.T., then focusing on Whitney.
“Like I said, you’re welcome anytime,” Betty told him. “Good night.”
Night? Was it? Had he been there all afternoon and into the evening?
Josh glanced out the half-open door and paused. The sun was setting. “Whoa. It is getting dark. I had no idea I’d stayed so long.” He studied Whitney’s lovely face. “I hope I haven’t kept you from something else you wanted to do.”
“There is nothing I would rather do on a Sunday afternoon than relax with family and friends,” she said, stepping out onto the porch with him and folding her arms when the cold hit her. “Besides, you helped wash dishes. I’ll take that kind of offer any day.”
“Guess I’m used to it from the coffee shop,” Josh said. But never has it been so enjoyable. The time he and Whitney had spent cleaning up the kitchen together had been fun. Their conversations had been personal without being intrusive. And they had found so many opportunities to laugh he was still basking in the pleasing aftereffects.
“Thanks, anyway. It was sweet of you to pitch in.”
“You’re quite welcome.” He lifted the laptop as he added, “I’ll see what I can do with this ASAP. I think it would do your dad a lot of good to be able to connect to the internet and stimulate his mind. It’s not good to sit and brood.”
“I totally agree. That’s one reason I gave it to him in the first place. I suspect the problem is more the operator than the device.”
Josh saw her shiver. “You’d better get back inside before you catch cold.” He took a step away. “See you.”
“Absolutely.” She gave him a conspiratorial grin. “We have a mystery to solve. I feel so much better knowing you’ll be helping me.”
If Josh had felt any more culpable he’d have kicked himself. The openness and trust Whitney was demonstrating were enough to make him want to confess then and there.
He wouldn’t, of course. He was a planner, not someone who acted on a whim. There was a right and a wrong way to go about revealing his identity if he chose to do so. Shivering in the snow while standing on a tiny front porch was neither the time nor the place.
It had occurred to him, more than once, to give Whitney the scoop she’d been seeking. The better he got to know her, the more tempting it was, particularly since he was starting to care what she thought of him, personally.
The only way he would feel comfortable allowing himself to get much closer to her was if they were presenting their real selves. She was doing so, of course. But he was still hiding behind a false identity.
When he had originally decided to come to Bygones undercover, he had not anticipated wanting to drop the guise of a struggling merchant until the project had reached its six-month anniversary. Now, he was becoming sorely conflicted.
For the first time since he had originally come up with the concept of rescuing the main street in tiny Bygones, Kansas, he was seriously questioning his devious approach.
If he had been a Christian at the outset, would he have misrepresented himself? He doubted it. But now that he was in this deep, how in the world was he going to extricate himself without causing undue pain and disappointment?
Josh had absolutely no idea.
*
The moment Whitney stepped back into the house and closed the front door, her mother cheered.
“Wahoo! Good for you, honey. Well done.”
Making a silly face, Whitney shook her head. “I don’t know. I like Josh and all. It’s just that there’s something off about him. Know what I mean?”
“Don’t be silly,” Betty insisted. “He’s just shy. Didn’t you notice how he started to relax as the afternoon went on?”
From his recliner, J.T. hooted. “Should have seen your face when I was telling him about those exploding eggs.”
“That was not your finest hour, Dad.”
“Nonsense. Can’t act formal and expect a guy to loosen up. When I was dating your mother I was scared to death of her father. I don’t think he ever smiled at me until he walked her down the aisle at our wedding.”
Whitney blanched. “Whoa. Let’s have no wedding talk. Don’t either of you start playing matchmaker. I am not planning to fall into the same trap so many of the newbies have lately. Looking at those statistics, a person would think there were no eligible singles in Bygones before they arrived.”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Betty countered. “But I do think those new business folks are the cream of the crop. After all, the SOS committee did vet them all.”
“True.” Whitney plopped into one of the side chairs next to the fireplace. “They seem to have been meant for Bygones. All except one. I can’t explain why. I just think Josh Smith is different, somehow.”
“Maybe that’s because you like him too much,” her mother suggested. When Whitney opened her mouth to reply, Betty held up a hand like a traffic cop. “Don’t deny it. I don’t know if Josh can tell how you feel, but I sure can. When you look at him your eyes get all misty. You blush too much, too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you react that way, not even when your hunky date picked you up for your senior prom.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not a flighty teenager anymore. I don’t get schoolgirl crushes.”
But you do, Whitney admitted to herself as she bid her parents goodnight, grabbed her tote and escaped to her room. This was not the first time such a phenomenon had occurred to her, it was simply the first time someone else had accused her of being romantically interested in Josh.
Was she? Until the man stopped being so mysterious and filled her in about his past, she would be a fool to let herself even consider falling for him.
Opening her laptop computer and plugging it in so she wouldn’t run down the battery, she seated herself at her desk and waited while it booted up.
One of the first things she intended to do was check the rosters of community colleges in the Midwest. Even if Josh didn’t finish a four-year education he might have taken classes at a JC. Of course, nothing said he had to have done so nearby. He could have gotten his training anywhere, even in Alaska or Hawaii, although she thought she’d detected some colloquialisms in his speech that pointed to a more Midwest upbringing.
Encouraging herself, Whitney began by checking social media sites for Josh Smiths.
When the initial search engine listed thousands and thousands of possibilities she stared, sat back and sighed. Finding the proverbial needle in a haystack would be easier than pinning down a guy named Smith.
There had to be another way.
The cord to her computer caught her eye. Gave her an idea. Made her pulse jump. Was it silly to venture out at night or would she be losing a golden opportunity if she discounted a perfectly good idea?
Before she could talk herself out of it she jerked open the bottom drawer of her desk, pawed through the odds and ends in it, and came up with what she needed.
It was the ideal excuse. Josh lived and worked in the same building. She was going to deliver the power cord for the old laptop to him. And she was going to do it now, tonight, when there would be no distractions from his shop customers and they could converse casually.
“Let him come up with a valid excuse to avoid my questions then,” Whitney muttered, discounting the notion that her plan was terribly contrived and transparent. “Just let him try.”
Chapter Eight
Josh was hopeful as he carried the laptop into his workroom in the rear of the Cozy Cup Café. Whitney said she had deleted her work files before she
’d passed her old computer to J.T. but that didn’t matter to a pro like Josh. Short of melting the motherboard with a blowtorch or running over it with an army tank, there was no way to wipe old files so well that a person with his expertise could not restore them. Since the laptop had been literally handed to him, his only real problem was one of personal ethics.
First chance he got, he’d ask permission to access Whitney’s research files so he could see how far her investigation had gone before she’d upgraded to the new laptop. In the meantime, he’d satisfy himself by checking public areas, like her anti-virus software and malware. Computer forensics was like a fascinating puzzle calling to him to be solved.
He noted that Whitney had carefully backed up her systems. She was thorough. And tenacious. Therefore, he would be wise to start avoiding her as much as possible. If he had not promised to help her with computer searches and to repair this laptop for her father, keeping his distance would have been a lot easier.
Evasion from now on was imperative, he realized with chagrin. The more time he spent in her company, the worse he felt about deceiving her. Distancing himself was not going to be easy, but it was definitely necessary.
A loud rapping on the door of the closed coffee shop startled him. Everybody knew there were no Main Street stores open on Sundays, let alone this late, so who could be knocking?
Josh peered out through the curtain separating the back room from the shop. There was someone at the door, all right. And judging by the greenish blue scarf and gloves his visitor was wearing, he knew who it was.
Assuming she hadn’t spied him through the frosty glass, he started to let the curtain fall back into place. It was too late. Whitney began waving her arms and gesturing wildly.
As he reluctantly started for the front door he realized what she was holding. She’d located the charging cable for the old laptop and was apparently intent on delivering it.
He took a deep breath and released it as a sigh while he unlocked the door. “You didn’t have to bother to bring that. I told your dad I have extras. I’ve already got his unit booted up.”
Love Inspired December 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Cozy ChristmasHer Holiday HeroJingle Bell Romance Page 7
