by Irene Hannon
* * *
“Can I give him one bite, Mr. Walsh?”
Cindy played with her second piece of pizza, only half listening to the exchange between Jarrod and their host.
“Just one.” Scott took a sip of his soda while Toby planted himself beside her son’s chair, tail swishing the floor, nose tipped up, attention riveted on the piece of pizza in Jarrod’s hand.
“Here you go, boy.” Jarrod tore off a hearty bite and fed it to the dog, who chomped it down, then gave a contented purr deep in his throat. “Your treat for the day.”
Treat for the day.
The words echoed in Cindy’s mind as she thought about that charged moment in the attic when she’d practically asked Scott to kiss her. What had she been thinking?
That, in a nutshell, was the problem. There had been no thinking involved. Only feeling.
“More pizza, Cindy?” Scott pushed the large cutting board containing what was left of the second pizza toward her.
“No, thanks. I’ve had plenty.”
That wasn’t true—and they both knew it. She’d managed to chew and swallow the first slice, but she hadn’t made much progress on the second one. After hiking in the woods for hours, she should be starving.
Instead, her stomach was queasy.
“Let’s move on to those cupcakes then.” Scott rose and picked up their plates. “I peeked in the bag while the pizza was baking. They look good.”
“We got white and chocolate.” Jarrod bounced up and pulled the molded plastic container of six cupcakes out of the bag. “We didn’t know which kind you like best.”
“Either one is fine with me. You pick first.”
“Chocolate.” Jarrod returned to the table, popped the lid and selected the one with the most icing, as Cindy knew he would.
She was glad some things were predictable.
“Coffee?” Scott picked up a mug from the counter and lifted it toward her.
“Yes, thanks.” Maybe some caffeine would jump-start her brain.
He delivered their mugs one at a time, as he had the morning he’d served her breakfast, favoring his damaged hand. She tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help wondering once again what had caused the extensive scarring.
“How did you hurt your hand, Mr. Walsh?”
As Jarrod voiced the very question that was on her mind, she jumped in before Scott had a chance to respond, her tone sharper than she intended. “It’s not polite to ask personal questions, honey.”
Her son’s face reddened and he dipped his chin.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind answering it.” Scott slid into his seat and wrapped his fingers around his mug, sending Jarrod a reassuring glance. “My hand was crushed a few years ago in an accident on a job site. It took a lot of operations and a lot of therapy to get it back in shape. Or as good a shape as it’s ever going to be.” He set the mug down and flexed his fingers. “Not bad, considering the doctors had to piece the bones back together like a puzzle. I don’t have as much sensation in my fingers as I used to because of nerve damage, but at least it works. So how’s that cupcake?”
“Good.” Jarrod ran his finger through the icing and stuck the glob in his mouth. “I busted my arm once.”
“Yeah? How’d you do that?” Scott broke off a bite of his cupcake as her son dug into his with gusto, his discomfort evaporating under Scott’s matter-of-fact reaction to his question.
Cindy took a sip of her coffee, her admiration for the man ticking up yet another notch.
“Fell off my bike.” The words came out garbled as Jarrod chewed his cupcake. “Mom and Dad had to take me to the emergency room. But it works fine now.” He demonstrated by holding it out and shaking it.
Apparently thinking this was a new game, Toby began leaping into the air and barking.
“Whoa, boy.” Scott restrained him with a hand on his collar. “Now that you’ve gotten him excited, you’re going to have to take him out again and let him run off all this energy.”
Cindy swallowed and gripped her mug. She didn’t relish any more alone time with Scott today.
“Okay.” Jarrod shoved the last quarter of his cupcake into his mouth and jogged for the door.
“Ten minutes.” Cindy called out the warning, fighting down her panic. “I have things to do at home.”
Acknowledging her comment with a wave of his hand, Jarrod exited, a yapping Toby at his heels.
Quiet descended in the kitchen. Only the hiss of water dripping from the coffeemaker and the muted ticking of a clock in his grandmother’s living room broke the stillness.
In desperation, she searched for some innocuous topic that would buy her the time to gulp her coffee, choke down a few bites of cake and escape.
But her host had other ideas.
“I think we should talk about what almost happened.”
The piece of cake she’d just swallowed got stuck in her throat, and she fumbled for her water glass. Took a long swallow.
Okay. She could handle this. They were mature adults. And maybe it would be better to acknowledge the elephant in the room rather than ignore it. “I guess that’s not a bad idea. Especially if our paths are going to start intersecting.”
“That’s my thought.” He leaned forward and clasped his mug. “I can’t say precisely what ignited that spark in the attic a little while ago, but the fact is it’s been there almost from the beginning. On my end, anyway.”
Honesty deserved to be repaid with honesty. No matter how uncomfortable it made her feel. “On mine, too.”
One side of his mouth quirked up. “I thought so, but thank you for confirming that my instincts are still sound. Here’s the thing. You’re a very attractive woman. You’re kind, conscientious, hard-working, intelligent—in other words, from everything I’ve been able to gather in our short acquaintance, you’re the real deal. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t have waited for Gram to matchmake. I’d have asked you out already. But A, I don’t think you’re ready to date yet, and B, there’s a problem on my end.”
She remained silent as he rose, crossed the room and topped off his mug. Instead of returning to the table, however, he propped a hip against the counter. Keeping some distance between them.
“Nine months ago a woman I’d been dating for three years gave me an ultimatum. Make a commitment or get out of her life. And she was right to do that. Three years is plenty long enough to know if you’re heading for anything permanent. Too long, actually. I knew a few months after we met there were issues that could keep things from getting serious, but the relationship was comfortable, I was busy and it was easier to maintain the status quo.”
He took a swig of coffee, set the mug down and gripped the edge of the counter behind him, facing her. “When I broke things off, Angela was disappointed and hurt—but not surprised. I think she’d already figured out that was how things were going to end. However, her eight-year-old daughter, Leah, was devastated. She’d bonded with me far better than she’d ever bonded with Angela’s ex, who’d disappeared not long after she was born. And I’d been part of her life for almost as long as she could remember. Angela wanted a clean break, and I understood that, but I’ll never forget Leah’s anguished face the night I told her I wouldn’t be coming around anymore.”
His voice rasped and he turned around to grope for his mug—with the wrong hand. It slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor, spewing coffee and glass all directions.
Muttering a word she couldn’t make out, he yanked the towel off the oven handle and bent to sop up the mess.
Cindy rose and pulled several paper towels off the rack before joining him.
“I can clean this up.” His words came out gruff as she knelt on one knee and began to wipe the shards of glass into a pile. “I don’t want you to cut yourself.”
“I’d like to help.” With more than spilled coffee. But this was the only assistance she could offer at the moment. In silence, she continued to gather up the broken pieces.
Once the coffee
was sopped up and all the remnants of the shattered mug were collected, he retrieved a dustpan from the utility closet, swept up the shards and deposited them in the trash.
Cindy went back to her seat at the table, giving him back his space for the conclusion of his story.
To her surprise, however, he closed the distance between them and stopped behind his chair, gripping the back with his fingers.
“So here’s the bottom line. After that experience, I vowed never again to get involved with a woman who had young children. It was bad enough to hurt Angela, but it tore me up inside to hurt Leah. I wouldn’t want to inflict that kind of pain on Jarrod if we began dating and things didn’t work out. He’s been through more than his share of bad stuff in the past year and a half. He doesn’t need to start counting on somebody who might not be around in six months—and you don’t either.”
As Cindy digested all he’d said, she came to two conclusions.
Scott was right to proceed with caution—for everyone’s sake. Even if she found herself wishing he wasn’t.
And not many men would make—and keep—a vow to protect the hearts of others at the expense of their own happiness.
Which only made the man standing across from her even more appealing.
She swiped at a smudge of icing on the table as she collected her thoughts. “I appreciate your candor—and your principles.”
“Not to mention my flattery.” He gave her a smile that seemed a bit strained.
“That, too.” She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. Might as well be honest. “Too bad things couldn’t be different.”
“Yeah.”
“I hope we can at least be friends.”
“I hope so, too.”
But she heard a touch of uncertainty in his words. Steve had told her once that when a man had romantic feelings toward a woman, all hope of simple friendship was gone. She suspected Scott felt the same way.
The back door opened, and Jarrod stuck his head in. “Is my ten minutes up yet?”
“More than.” Cindy rose, snagged her purse from the back of her chair and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s put the pedal to the metal.”
Jarrod blinked at her, then broke into a grin as he gave Toby a final pat. “That’s what Dad always said when it was time to go.”
She frowned. Yeah, it was. How odd. She’d never used the expression before. Why now? Was her subconscious reminding her that Steve hadn’t been gone that long? That it was too soon for a new romance anyway?
“Why don’t you take the cupcakes home, Jarrod?” Scott snapped the lid shut, slid the container back in the plastic bag and handed it to her son. “I don’t need the calories.”
“Is that okay, Mom?”
“Sure.” Fishing in her purse for her keys, she moved toward the door.
Scott beat her to it, opening it as they approached.
“Thanks again for dinner, Mr. Walsh. And for letting me play with Toby. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
Over Jarrod’s head, Scott looked at her, as if to say, That could be dangerous. Jarrod could get hurt.
Hearing the unspoken message, she stepped in. “We’re all busy, honey, and this is a long drive. It probably won’t happen very often.”
Her son’s face fell. “I guess not. I had fun tonight, though.” He trudged toward the car.
“Here’s the house key.” Scott held it out to her. Their fingers brushed as she took it, and her heart skipped a beat. “Come by whenever it’s convenient. I don’t usually get home until after seven.”
“Okay. Thanks.” The words came out breathless. Telling. “I’ll bring my camera tomorrow and take a few shots of your grandmother’s paintings, too, if that’s all right.”
“No problem.”
She took a step back. “Well...I guess we’ll be off.”
“Drive safely.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. As if he was fighting the temptation to reach out to her.
“Good night.” Turning, she strode toward the car.
Once inside, she fitted the key in the ignition. A long streak of dried icing on her finger caught her attention, and pushing worries about germs aside, she licked it off.
The taste was sweet on her tongue.
But as she put the car in gear and allowed herself one last peek at the tall man standing in the doorway watching them leave, she couldn’t help thinking that Scott’s kiss would have been even sweeter.
Chapter Eight
Scott stopped at the door to Gram’s room and narrowed his eyes.
Something was different.
The view, that was it. Gram always kept the blinds drawn. Tonight, they were open. The sky was washed with gold from the setting sun, and the newly planted flower box outside her window was bursting with spring color.
What was up?
Venturing into the room, he looked over at the bed.
Another first.
Gram was reading one of the paperback novels that had been gathering dust for months.
Cindy’s good news had apparently had the positive impact he’d hoped it would.
As he approached the bed, Gram peered at him over the top of her glasses. “You’re late.”
“Hello to you, too.” He pulled one of the chairs closer to the bed, gestured outside and sat. “Nice view.”
“Very. I’ve always liked the light at the end of the day. So warm and comforting.” She set her book down and changed the subject. “Did you get delayed at work?”
“Yeah. It was a bear of a day. Make that a bear of a week. And it’s only Wednesday. We’ve had one glitch after another.” He stifled a yawn and circled back to the more important topic. “What’s with the book? And the blinds?”
She gave a dismissive wave, but bright spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. “You spent hard-earned money on those books. Figured I ought to read a few. And you’re paying for the view. Might as well enjoy it.”
“Glad to hear I’m finally getting my money’s worth. Did Cindy call you?” He knew she had. She’d left a message yesterday on his home answering machine saying she would.
“Yes. Charming girl. I’m delighted your great-great-grandparents’ chests have helped her out with her exhibit.”
“They didn’t just help her out. They’re the foundation for it.”
“It’s about time they proved useful to someone after taking up storage space in my attic all these years. She’s going to bring a few things over for me to see in a day or two. You know about the paintings, I assume?”
“Yes. Cindy included that news in her voice mail. Sounds as if Janice is quite taken with your work.”
Gram squinted at him, clearly disgruntled. “Voice mail? You mean you haven’t talked with her?”
“No. She’s a busy woman.”
“Hmph.” She creased the edge of the blanket with her fingers. “So what do you think of this painting business?”
“I think it’s great. I predict Janice will sell every one you send.” A proceed-with-caution warning flashed in his mind, reminding him to temper his enthusiasm. Subtle encouragement was okay, but pushing would be a mistake. “Too bad there’s a limited supply.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Gram adjusted her glasses and rested her hands on the book. “I expect I might have time to do another piece or two before the Lord calls me home. And I still have all my supplies. They’re in the basement.”
“Yes. I saw them. I could bring some over if you’d like. The light’s not too bad in here.”
“No, it’s not.” She surveyed the view from her window. “I suppose I might do a little dabbling. It would help pass the days. Why don’t you gather up a few brushes and my paints and a couple of canvases? There are plenty of blank ones down there.”
Thank You, God!
“Sure. I’ll root around tonight.”
“Don’t go to any trouble on my account.”
“It’s no trouble, Gram.”
“Well, don’t put yourself out.” She le
aned back. “Have you heard from Devon lately?”
“No. I’ve left two messages since I sent the money, but she hasn’t called me back. Have you talked with her?”
“This morning. She didn’t get that part she was after, and she lost her waitress job because she kept canceling at the last minute to go to auditions. I bet you can guess where this is heading.”
“She needs a few bucks to tide her over until she gets another waitress gig.”
“Give the boy a gold star. She knows better than to ask me, though. I’m tapped out. I told her not to ask you either, but I expect that fell on deaf ears.” Gram sighed and shook her head. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say. We were too soft on her after the accident. Never made her stand on her own two feet. I love that girl with all my heart, but she needs to grow up and accept responsibility for her own welfare. As for you—” she pointed a finger at him “—you need to stop enabling her.”
“Enabling?” Scott’s lips twitched. “Where did you pick up that lingo? Have you been watching Dr. Phil?”
She scowled at him. “I may be old, but I keep up with things. And I’m right about this.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“But it’s hard to say no. I know.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, you work on that. And while you’re at it, work on your love life, too.”
Vintage Gram. Feisty and outspoken and interested in life. The very thing he’d been praying for.
But he’d have to keep his diversionary skills in tip-top shape from now on.
Standing, he stretched, then retrieved her walker. “In the meantime, let’s take a stroll.”
Much to his surprise, instead of arguing she put the book aside, threw back the blanket and slid her legs over the side of the bed. Without his help.
“I believe I’d like to get a few of those Hersey’s Kisses at the nurses’ station. Let’s go there first.”
“No argument from me.”
As she took off with more energy and speed than usual, Scott sent another silent thank-you to the Lord. The prognosis was definitely looking up for the woman who’d played such an important role in his past.
Too bad the same couldn’t be said about the role of a lovely single mom in his future.
