She smiled, collapsing on a stool at the island. Her mother must have rushed right over as soon as she’d called her. That was so thoughtful. Their fragrance was sweet balm to her tired body and heart.
She shouldn’t have left for so long. The only good thing about being gone was that she’d had time to remember why she’d moved back home in the first place and how much she liked living in Echo Falls. Houston and Dallas were too crowded and noisy for her tastes.
Her life was here. Bret or no Bret.
She didn’t know if she could co-exist in a town with him, but she had to find a way because she wasn’t leaving again.
She stretched to get the kinks out of her shoulders from the long drive. She still had to unload her car. She had tons of laundry. She had to call her family, especially her mother to thank her.
She had no energy for any of it. Truth be told, she hadn’t slept well in eight weeks, or eaten well for that matter. She dropped folded arms on the counter and put her head down.
She’d rest. Enjoy the smell of her flowers. For a minute.
Bret found her that way—head cushioned on her arms, her mouth open, lightly snoring. The card he’d put on the table with her flowers still lay there untouched. It appeared she hadn’t gotten any further into the room than the stool where she’d collapsed.
He frowned at her back and juggled the bag from Clem’s carrying two roast beef dinners and chocolate cream pie, finally putting it in the refrigerator. They wouldn’t be eating any time soon. Her face was lined with fatigue. Her skin was translucent and fragile. Hadn’t she been taking care of herself?
He ran a light finger down her face. The warmth of her skin settled all his fears. They could make this work. He was sure.
He looked out the window, watched several cars drive by, finally making the only decision he could. He’d let her sleep. Her car was still sitting in the driveway loaded with her stuff and he could unload it. If she was still asleep, he’d carry her to bed and tuck her in. He desperately wanted to see her eyes flash—either warm or cold at the sight of him, it didn’t matter. Anything was better than the vacuum he’d lived in since the shooting.
He made short work of unloading her car. Meg slept on.
He went to the bedroom and pulled back the covers on her bed, and returned to the kitchen.
God, she must be really worn out. He hadn’t exactly been quiet with all his activities. He didn’t bother trying to wake her up. Instead, he pushed her back until she was draped across his arms, put his other arm under legs and lifted. She stirred, slightly to mumble, but it was if she had weights on her eyelids.
“Shh, baby. Time for bed,” he whispered. She wrapped one arm around him, her nose landed against his neck, her warm breath blowing across his skin. He maneuvered down the hall, careful not to bump her. When he laid her across the bed, she curled into a small ball and sighed. He untied her tennis shoes and slipped them off her feet and covered her with a sheet. He watched her for a bit, being sure she settled, again worried about the lines of fatigue in her face.
Finally, he went back to the kitchen and picked up his keys. He hesitated, torn. He should go home, but he didn’t want to. Instead, he took his dinner from the refrigerator, found a fork and went to the living room. He turned on the television with the remote, hit the mute, and found a baseball game.
He took out his cell phone and dialed. Moments later, Helen Applegate answered.
“What are you doing calling me? You are supposed to be romancing my daughter. Telling her you love her. Yada, yada,” Helen complained.
Bret grinned. “She’s asleep.”
“What? At six o’clock in the evening?”
“Yes. She was asleep when I got here. So we’re going to have to improvise and go to plan B.”
“And that is?”
“I’m going to spend the night and do breakfast with her in the morning instead. Only Meg’s refrigerator is empty. I don’t want to leave in case she wakes up.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll be there in a few,” Helen said, then hung up.
Dinner was a lonely affair, but it filled his stomach. True to her word, thirty minutes later Helen showed up with a sack full of groceries. He saw her come up the walk and went to the door.
She stepped inside and whispered. “You can cook, can’t you?”
“Yes,” Bret said, taking the bag from her.
Helen grinned. “How does she look?”
“Beautiful. But tired.” Bret frowned. “Exhausted, if you want the truth.”
Helen shrugged. “She never said anything, so I can’t explain that. Take care of her. Make sure she calls me tomorrow.”
“I’ll tell her. Good night.”
Hours later, before he fell asleep, he checked her again and found she had kicked off the sheet and was spread across the bed, dead to every noise. He went around the house, checking doors and windows. He went back to the sofa and stretched out, pulling an afghan off the back and covering himself. She might be mad as hell when she woke up and found him here, but so be it. He was in for the long haul and it was time she knew it.
Meg woke, feeling groggy and unsettled. She was in her clothes. Why in the world had she gone to bed with her clothes on? For that matter, she didn’t remember going to bed.
It smelled like bacon in the house. In fact, it sounded like bacon sizzling on a frying pan. Another sniff and she detected coffee. Maybe her grandmother had used her key and was cooking her breakfast. Now wouldn’t that be sweet?
She shoved back the sheet, made a stop in the bathroom, and rushed to the kitchen, excited to see her. She pulled up short in the doorway and stared.
Bret stood at the kitchen stove, sans T-shirt and shoes, a pair of athletic shorts barely covering his nice butt.
Tears filled her eyes. God! She had missed him so much. The emotion balled in her throat for two seconds, then anger came to the rescue.
“What are you doing in my kitchen?”
He smiled, that lazy, sexy smile that made her knees weak. Disgusted with herself and not wanting to allow herself to fall for it again, she went on the offensive, deciding to be blunt. Crossing her arms, she tapped her foot. “It’s over.”
Bret stayed silent for a moment, looking her over. “No. It’s not.”
“It was just sex.”
“No. It wasn’t.
“Yes. It was. You insisted. I promised. End of story. Get out.”
She’d spent weeks forcing her love for Bret back into the little box inside her where it had existed for four years. It hadn’t been easy. There was more to cram in than ever before. She’d cried herself to sleep more nights than not. Depression had been her constant companion. The box bulged, constantly threatening to open, but she’d been determined.
But one look at him, his bare feet, his sleepy eyes, his presence in her kitchen made that box threaten to burst like a piñata whacked with a big stick. How in the world could she live without him? She needed to be home, needed her family, the familiarity of her town, her students—but seeing him every day would burn like a forest fire in the middle of August.
“I’m waiting for you to leave.” She edged further into the room. “Where did all those groceries come from? My refrigerator was empty.”
His eyes lingering on her face, her breasts, her legs. “I came bearing gifts.”
“You look like you spent the night.” Her temper simmered, her heart pounded and her emotions bubbled like a witch’s cauldron on Halloween.
He looked uncomfortable for a moment. “I did spend the night. I’m the one who put you to bed.”
The toast popped in the toaster and he reached for the pieces, buttered them. He poured her a cup of coffee, fixing it the way she liked it.
Damn the man, what in the world was he up to?
She’d been magnanimous, tearing her own heart out by the roots, leaving her home and family to give them both time to adjust to being apart, and what did he do? What exactly was he doing?
“Why are you here? We said—”
“No, you said. As I recall, I was too stunned to say much of anything.” He took a plate from the cupboard and dished up hash browns, eggs, and bacon. She had a moment to wonder how in the world he knew where everything was in her kitchen, but it passed when he came to her and took her elbow. Overwhelmed with the male scent of him, all she could do was gape.
“Come and eat, drink your coffee, and I’ll explain.” Bret coaxed her to the table and set a plate in front of her with her coffee. He went back to dish up his own breakfast. She looked at the flowers in the vase on the table, the blooms having opened up wider, splashing color like a paint can run amok. She saw the card that she’d missed the night before.
“Open it.” His husky voice made her look up, straight into eyes that held so much emotion, she had to look away. “Open it,” he repeated.
She lifted the flat on the small white envelope and removed the single sheet of paper, quickly scanning the note.
How do I love thee, let me count the ways. Bret.
Love her? She looked up at him. He blew out a breath. “I love you.”
Her heart ripped open. “You don’t.”
He stilled. “I do.”
She gazed at him, trying to assess his sincerity. “So what? Does that matter? You still don’t want forever.”
“Who says?”
Meg’s heart stalled. “You did. Repeatedly.”
“Well, I’ve changed my mind.” He didn’t smile, didn’t try to coax her. It was a plain statement of fact. Confused, she tried to read him and couldn’t.
“I don’t believe you.” Couldn’t believe him. He’d been so adamant. If he’d changed his mind, the last few weeks were for naught. Plus, if he walked away from her later, she’d have to close herself off from everyone to survive the devastation.
“I know. But you will.” His vow made goose bumps run down her spine.
He picked up his fork and mixed his hash browns and his eggs. “Eat your breakfast and tell me what you’ve been doing while you’ve been gone.”
“Just like that?”
He put down his fork. “No. Not just like that. I’ve had weeks to think and work a few things through. I don’t expect you to believe me right off.”
She frowned. “Work what things through? Us?”
“Partly. But there are other things. I want to tell you about it, but we don’t have time this morning. I’m due in court at ten o’clock. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
His expression was so hopeful, she hesitated on her answer. She should turn him down. It was necessary. Expedient. Hell, it was survival. Did he not know she couldn’t say no? That her heart wouldn’t let her?
She licked her lips, stalling for time. “Are you asking me out? On a date?”
A little smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Yes. A date. Starting over. Fresh. From the beginning.”
She sat back in her chair. Her palms were sweaty, her leg bouncing under the table like a marathon jogger on a slippery track. Her head pounded. Her heart hurt. She wanted, but was afraid. What if he just missed the sex? Could he really have decided that he loved her? That he was willing to change his whole life? In that short an absence? Wasn’t it better to not take the chance? After all, she’d been at this for four years. What was different now?
The silence taunted her. Temptation beckoned. Against her better judgment, she caved. “All right,” she paused for effect. “But no sex.”
Bret raised his eyebrow and gave her a rakish grin.
So much for that ultimatum. She was in deep trouble.
~~CHAPTER FOURTEEN~~
Meg tightened the towel around her body and sorted through the closet to figure out what to wear. This would be their first date. He’d only said to dress comfortably. What did that mean?
Discarding the dresses, she searched for her favorite short-sleeve, blue-striped, oxford shirt. Her comfortable jeans were already on the bed with underwear. Her oldest pair of cowboy boots were on the floor. After all, the man had said comfortable and she was going to take him at his word. The shirt was caught between a pair of slacks and her blue blazer and she took a moment to untangle the hangers and get it out.
She turned to lay it on the bed and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall across from her bed. Her blonde hair was tangled, her lip red where she’d been chewing it. She’d thrown herself at him once, been the pursuer, been the sure one. It was doubly damn hard to trust he’d figured out that he wanted her for keeps.
A knock on the door made her squeal. She looked at the clock, realized how long she’d been searching for clothes, and grabbed a robe. Racing to the door, she saw Bret on the other side in jeans and a T-shirt. The hot early August night air blasted across her skin when she opened the door.
His nostrils flared, his eyes heated, traveling the length of her body. He fisted his hands and turned away. “I’ll wait out here.”
Puzzled, she tightened her robe. “You don’t have to. You can wait in the kitchen.”
He cleared his throat. “No, it’s a nice night.” He seemed nervous, unusually so, but now wasn’t the time to talk.
“Okay. Ten minutes. I promise.” She shut the door and hurried to her room. She dressed quickly and went to the bathroom to dry her hair and put on a minimum of make-up. Finally, she added a spritz of perfume and some earrings. She grabbed her purse and opened the front door to see him standing on the edge of her porch staring across the lawn to the neighbor kids playing tag across the street.
“Ten minutes. I told you.” She stopped to lock her door.
“Fifteen. But who’s counting.” His eyes swept over her again, his face giving away that he liked what he saw. It bolstered her confidence.
He didn’t say much else. He took her hand and walked her to his truck, helping her in. When he got in on the driver’s side, she couldn’t contain her curiosity any more.
“Where are we going?”
He smiled, and shook his head. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”
“Not even a hint?”
“No.” He plugged his cellphone in with the cord to attach it to the radio and in seconds a new set of love songs filled the cab.
“A new playlist?”
“Yeah. This one’s a mix of stuff.” He lapsed into silence, his finger tapping the steering wheel. It was a comfortable quiet between them, so she let it be and made herself relax.
He turned on the same road that went to Chad’s and accelerated. She watched out the window as the familiar landmarks passed, but was totally surprised when the truck turned into the farm’s driveway. Instead of turning toward the house, however, he turned toward the markets and the field.
“Okay. Now you’ve got me really curious.”
He grinned. “Wait. You’ll see in a minute.” It was early still, but the sun was in the western sky, a large ball of yellow.
Bret carefully followed the dual ruts into the field. Green pumpkins just beginning to turn orange littered the field as if dropped by a garden giant. Ahead, she saw a sight that took her breath away.
A small table sat at the edge of the field, in the shade of two tall oak trees. Two chairs sat opposite each other. A white tablecloth, candles, two wine glasses, and place settings with silver covers graced the table.
The truck rolled to a slow stop, giving her a moment to catch her breath.
“What is this?” she finally whispered.
“Dinner tonight is compliments of Chez Pumpkin Patch, which I’m told is a powerful magic place.” He grinned and got out of the truck, rounded to her side, and helped her down.
She felt her feet hit the ground, but had to look to be sure. She grinned and took a step forward, staring at the beautiful setup.
Tears pricked her eyes and she reached for his hand. “This is beautiful. Did Robin help you with this?”
“No, actually Boo and Lindy did. You better save the sentiments until I make sure there aren’t hot dogs and Cheetos on
the plates.”
She laughed, pulling him forward to the table. “I wouldn’t care. This is wonderful.” She went up on her toes and kissed him, something she’d wanted to do since she’d woken up this morning and found him in her kitchen. He returned the kiss with a slow, warm assault on her mouth.
She wanted this every day. She broke away. “Bret?”
“Shh. Let me check and make sure about the food. It’s supposed to be adult food.”
He lifted one silver cover and smiled.
“No hot dogs?”
“No, chicken fettuccini. All is well.”
Meg’s stomach growled. “Oooh, Grandma’s?”
“I’ll never tell.” The CD still played from his truck, and he swept her into his arms and danced with her, holding her against his body. “How far away is February?”
Meg lifted her eyebrows in confusion. “Why?”
“Sweetheart Dance. It’s mine this year.”
Meg froze, not daring to move for fear she’d heard him wrong.
His eyes darkened with serious intent. “I have something I want to ask you.”
She looked away to the sunset, suddenly shy. The intimacy of the moment, the special flare to everything finally hit her, making her breath seize.
Was he going to ask her to marry him? Her heart was solid sure. Her body jumping for passionate joy. But, her mind pulled away. It was too fast. When had he changed his mind? How? Would he mean it? Could they make it work?
She noted a truck coming toward them at breakneck speeds. She pulled away from him.
“Bret, look...”
He’d heard the motor and had already turned before she had uttered the words.
The truck pulled up, its stop sending dust blowing their way. Hank Givers, Chad’s farm manager, got out. “Sorry to interrupt, but we need you at the house. Robin’s having her baby.”
Meg shook her head. “Right now?”
Echo Falls, Texas Boxed Set Page 40
