His deep, sexy, roguish voice was pressed against my ear. My body flushed, and I’m sure my cheeks ignited because the rest of me did.
“Yeah, about that, I guess … ” I laughed nervously. “You read that email, too, huh?”
“I read all my emails.”
I gritted through a smile, grateful we weren’t Skyping or FaceTime-ing or any other electronic face messaging that was available. It was bad enough he had to hear me stumble through our phone call. I didn’t need him to see my embarrassment as well.
“So, then, you saw my other message about, you know, possibly covering any available assignments for the Thanksgiving holiday.” I held my breath. Please, please, please. I would have crossed my fingers, too, but they were gripped around the steering wheel of my Volkswagen bug. I had just dropped John, Jessica, and two cakes off at school when Joe’s call came through. I pulled into a vacant spot in the school parking lot. There was no way I could shift gears and talk to Joe at the same time. I was doing enough downshifting as it was.
“Yes, I did read your other email. About that … ” His voice trailed off and I closed my eyes.
Just pull off the bandage—it’ll hurt less.
“I’m the on-call editor that weekend, and while I would love to have more available bodies for reporting, I’m not sure I can swing that by corporate. It’s a far drive to be on-call in the event anything pops up.”
I opened my eyes and nodded. “Understood. It was a long shot.” There goes my plan to work during the holiday.
“But … ”
A smile started to form on my lips. But?
“Let me talk to Stan, and I’ll see what he says. He’s the man in charge of the finances and has the final say on the budget.”
“Thanks, Joe.” I knew there was a reason I liked you.
“Don’t thank me yet. However, since you’re available… ”
He’s never going to let me live this down.
“My son, Sam, and I always put on quite a spread for Thanksgiving.”
“Uh-huh.” I purposefully played out the situation. Maybe I wouldn’t have to invite myself to dinner. Maybe Joe was about to extend that offer to me. Maybe, just maybe. The world was full of maybes.
“So I was thinking that if you didn’t have plans for Thanksgiving”—he cleared his throat—“and if you still wanted to make the drive, you could join us. Come meet me in person.” His voice shifted to playful and light. “Then you can see why the rest of the newsroom hates me.”
I shook my head and laughed. “I can’t imagine anyone in the newsroom hates you.”
His laughter was deep like his voice. “Well, when you kill enough stories or ask that they be rewritten, you’re not always the most popular guy in the room.”
I had been on the receiving end of Joe’s emails requesting a rewrite, and it wasn’t always pretty. Joe was nothing if not direct.
“So what do you think?” he asked. “How would you like to join Sam and me for dinner?”
I grinned so wide it hurt my cheeks. “That would be lovely.” Lovely? Really? I sound like his grandmother. That’d be lovely, Joseph. Now my cheeks hurt from gritting my teeth.
“It would be lovely.” His voice was clearly mocking me.
“Yeah, okay. I don’t get asked to, uh … Dinner would be great. What can I bring?” Nothing like a good redirect to move the conversation and my dignity forward.
“Well … ” He paused. “How about dessert?”
I silently clapped my hands together. “I can do dessert.” As long as I remember the ingredients, my baking is yummy. “Thanks.” My voice was way too enthusiastic, but I wouldn’t be home alone for Thanksgiving and that was worth celebrating.
“Again, don’t thank me yet—not until after you’ve eaten my cooking. But Thanksgiving should be fun; I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” My shoulders raised to my ears. I don’t care if it’s the worst meal ever. I have plans for Thanksgiving.
Chapter 4
“This is stupid.”
I heard the rich echo of Kris’s laughter through my cell phone. I knew her head was thrown back and her blonde hair swung in rhythm with her throaty laugh. When Kris giggled, her whole body embraced the moment. “It’s not stupid.”
“Okay, desperate? Because Joe emailed that the paper can’t justify the cost of a hotel room since I’m officially off the clock. So I can’t even use work as my alibi for this little jaunt. Doesn’t that kind of reek of desperation?”
Kris chuckled. “Janey, this isn’t stupid or desperate. It’s … ”
I leaned toward the dashboard of my bug as if the closer I got to the front window, the greater the cell reception. Heat streamed from the open vent to warm me and melt the frost that threatened to cloud my vision. “It’s … what?”
She paused. I held my breath.
“It’s kind of romantic.”
Tears stung my eyes. “Really? Romantic? You think?”
“Oh, yeah.” The assurance in her voice was a salve.
I slowly nodded. “So driving 350 miles, from one small Wyoming town to another, on … ” I couldn’t finish the sentence. There wasn’t a car in front of or behind me on the two-lane highway. Snow berms, piled high on the sides of the road, didn’t hide the fact that the fueling stations and parking lot were vacant as I passed a one-stoplight town’s lone convenience store. A red, blinking “Closed” sign lit the window of the neighboring diner. I drove by both without noticing any visible sign of life. “It’s like a zombie apocalypse,” I muttered.
Kris’s voice rose in my ear. “No, sweetie, it’s just Thanksgiving.”
The knot returned to my throat. The faces of my twin first graders surfaced in my mind. This is harder than I thought. “You shouldn’t be on the phone. You should be with your family.”
“I am,” Kris said.
Sorrow slowly rattled my chest. I flicked away a tear, but it didn’t stop more from falling. “What am I doing?”
“You’re driving toward something—toward someone,” she said.
“I’m driving five hours and I’ve never met this guy.” I cradled the phone between my cheek and shoulder and quickly wiped away mascara streaks.
“That’s not true. You know him. You’ve known him for years.”
I rolled my eyes. “If knowing him as my newspaper editor and the guy I’ve sent my copy to for the last five years counts then, yeah, I know him.”
“Don’t do that.” She was strong, steady. “Don’t discount this. Mark did enough of that for a lifetime.”
I exhaled. “This has been such an awful year.” It no longer felt like pity, just fact.
“It starts over—today. Right now. With this drive, with each mile, you’re closer to a new beginning.”
Now I laughed. “Well, let’s just hope he’s … ” I paused. What did I hope? What did I want?
The sun caught patches of fresh snow that sparkled like diamond chips scattered across the untouched countryside. There isn’t an ugly season in Wyoming.
“What would it be like to be with a man who had four good seasons?” I asked. “You know, good year-round. I’m not saying that they don’t ever change, but what would it be like to be with someone who didn’t change so much you didn’t recognize him anymore? What would it be like to be with someone who was consistent?” I paused as the truth seeped into my body and out of my mouth without any conscious thought. “Someone who consistently loved me, whose passion never waned and his commitment never wavered No matter the season, his love wouldn’t diminish. What would that be like?”
“Does he have a brother?”
Our laughter blended over the phone.
A frost-covered highway sign announced that I would be meeting Joe and his son for Thanksgiving dinner within fifty-five miles. Kris’s laughter suddenly seemed farther away.
“Okay,” I said in a hastened pitch. “When I get there, I’ll text, and then you call. If I feel uncomfortable or, you know, if he isn
’t what he seems, then you’ll help me get out of it, okay?”
“Yes, that’s the plan. I’ll call you.”
“Promise?” Vulnerability caught in my throat.
“Promise.”
The phone fell silent. “Kris?” I held the cell in front of me. No signal. I softly smiled and tossed my cell on the passenger seat beside the basket of goodies and poinsettia.
I rolled my eyes. Baked goods is a given, but a plant? Who brings a guy a poinsettia? What was I thinking? I glanced at the green cellophane-wrapped divinity and fudge. I purposefully chose bake-free desserts. I wasn’t going to risk forgetting key ingredients or having my cakes fall.
In my last email with Joe, he provided directions and a recap of his week. He wrote about his son’s band performance and then their stop at the mini-mart for chocolate donuts and milk. Sam had a propensity for sweets and Joe had an adversity to baking them. I grinned. A single dad of a teenager. My baking will win one of them over—just not sure who.
• • •
The highway crested and dropped into the city of Casper. The town spread out before me. The silhouette of the mountains rising in the background provided a majestic first look at Wyoming’s central city.
I had memorized the directions; still I felt my pulse quicken with each turn and green light that led me toward him. What if he takes one look at me and reaches for his cell phone? Or he doesn’t even come out of his house? I shook my head, but it didn’t erase the rapid-fire thoughts that ricocheted through my mind. He’s not going to think those things. Besides, this isn’t a date.
At this point, self-talk was all I had to get through my first-meeting jitters. It’s not a date, it’s dinner. This prompted a good snort as I laughed. Yeah, because everyone drives 350 miles for Thanksgiving dinner with a stranger.
I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it was nerves, but there was also excitement fluttering inside me that I hadn’t felt in a really long time. Date or not, I was anxious to finally meet the man I had known only through email exchanges and brief phone calls.
I slowly drove down Elm Street and the two-story brownstone that bore his address came into view. I stared at the faded brick façade surrounded by trees starched in white. Smoke rose from the chimney stack on the older rooftop. Christmas lights blinked from the front porch.
It’s magical.
I stepped out of my bug and quickly tucked my jeans into my knee-high boots, straightened my red sweater so that it hung just off my hips, and slid my cell phone into my back pocket. I grabbed my black wool jacket from the car and was mid-inhale into a deep breath when he appeared on the sidewalk.
His jeans were slightly cuffed to reveal black cowboy boots that weren’t for show. These were workingman boots. A sky-blue and white striped, short-sleeved sports jersey fit nicely across his broad shoulders and equally well-defined chest. Beneath the jersey, a white thermal shirt with the sleeves pushed up gave him a rugged, athletic look. Wow, he’s really built.
Sparkling eyes shone from his welcoming face. I felt my heart skip a beat.
“You’re here! Glad you could make it.”
A wide grin filled my face. He’s excited to see me. He didn’t run away. I draped my coat over my arm and slowly walked toward him.
“Sidewalk’s a little slippery.” He offered me his hand and it trembled slightly.
He’s nervous?
I slipped my hand into his. “You have blue eyes.” Surprise clung to my voice.
He leaned toward me. “They weren’t always blue.” A crooked, sideways smile filled his face like he was holding on to a great secret.
“No?” My voice dropped with just the right amount of curiosity and flirt, which made his eyes twinkle with the brilliance of the lights strung behind him.
“No. I used to have green eyes and I was bald.”
I instantly glanced up at his full head of dark hair. “You’re teasing me.”
“Actually, I’m teasing myself. When I played soccer in college, we all shaved our heads. It was a thing. But,” he brushed his hair with his hand, “it all grew back, and thicker.”
“And your eyes?”
“That’s the real mystery.” His tone subtly shifted from humorous to serious. “Sometime after my divorce they turned blue.”
“Ahh.” I half-chuckled. “I’m not sure if that’s sweet or … ”
He squeezed my hand. “All I know for sure is that it changed the color of my eyes.” He paused and his face softened. “And, I suppose, it changed my perspective.”
Joe appeared too tender at that moment for me to ask him to explain, so we said nothing. It’s hard to explain why my body already reacted to someone I’d only known through an email correspondence. Standing next to him on the sidewalk with his unabashed wry humor and honesty, a warmth radiated throughout me, like I had reconnected with a part of myself I had lost. But I’d have to lose it again because I wasn’t planning to lose my job in the process. Remember, Janey, this isn’t a date. You’re at your boss’s house for dinner. The reality was as brisk as the wind that cut through my hair, but it was the jolt I needed to keep my emotions in check.
Suddenly my cell phone rang. His eyes never wavered from mine.
“Is that your getaway call?” He was fun, flirtatious.
“Maybe.” I let my phone ring into voicemail. He gently squeezed my hand again. “My friend’s calling me, too, you know, just in case.”
I tried not to laugh, but it was a battle I lost. Laughter and the magic of the season swirled between us as we held hands and headed into his home.
Chapter 5
Joe opened the door to his home and the rich, deep, woodsy scent of fresh-cut pine captured my attention and hung in the air.
“Like my tree?” Joe reached for my coat.
“Um … ” I scanned the small, but intimate, living room. No tree by the white brick fireplace or matching mantle. No tree by the built-in corner, cherry wood hutch or bookshelves. Nor by the stereo, speakers, leather couch, recliner, or ottoman. No. No. No sign of a tree. It was like a page out of my son’s Where’s Waldo? book. I seriously couldn’t find the source of the pine scent any more than I could find the man with the red and white striped cap in a crowd. Joe hung up my jacket and walked to the wall of windows framed by old red brick. On the narrow, white windowsill, a burlap bag was cinched tightly around the base of an evergreen. The tree barely stood a foot high.
I choked back a chuckle. “That’s … ” My boots echoed on the cherry hardwood floors as I approached.
He held the tree up like an offering. Pride shone in his eyes. “I cut it down myself,” he said with a hint of playfulness to his voice.
The laughter I had held at bay came pouring out. “Did you really?”
His cheeks grew rosy. “Actually, I helped dig it up.”
I tilted my head. “And you did this why? So you could have a Christmas tree?” The reporter in me surfaced and the editor in Joe emerged equally as fast.
“Never assume that you know the story.”
I teasingly rolled my eyes. “Okay, tell me the story then.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He carefully placed his Charlie Brown-sized Christmas tree back on the windowsill. “Remember the piece we recently ran on the conservation effort up on the mountain?” He paused.
The image of a bulldozer clearing debris from Casper Mountain was hard to forget, even buried amid a week’s worth of headlines in my memory. “The piece Kelly wrote?” Kelly was the other feature reporter assigned to Joe. She always seemed to get the better story assignments. Kris argued that if I lived in Casper I’d get the front-page pieces, too, but I wasn’t so sure. Kelly was ten years younger and ten shades of blonde lighter.
“That’s the story,” he said. “We were short a photographer so I tagged along and took some pics. The excavator stopped short of this little tree and … ” Joe smiled at the potted plant on the windowsill. “I knew it was meant to be saved.”
I grinned. “Th
at is a great story.”
“With enough love and care, this tree will be ready for a tree stand by December twenty-fourth.”
“Oh.” My voice revealed my skepticism.
Mischievous blue eyes flirted with me, and a swift wave of anticipation whipped across my midsection as if he had touched me and not simply looked at me. “Don’t be a doubter.”
With a nervous chuckle, I found my voice. “I’m not. I just think … um … ” The tree was small, but its spirit was as bright as Joe’s eyes when he spoke about the upcoming holiday season. “It’s going to make a great Christmas tree,” I said softly.
“See, there you go. It’s all about staying optimistic. Now you’re getting in the spirit.”
I’d have to be the Grinch not to be giddy with his good nature.
“And speaking of spirits, may I offer you a drink?” he asked.
“You really are a wordsmith.”
“Eh, I’m cheesy that way,” he said with a grin.
Despite the fact that I knew I shouldn’t appear to be showing favor with my boss, every time he spoke it made me smile. He instantly had an effect on me. I felt happier than I had in a long time.
“A drink?” I inched toward him and tapped my finger on my chin. “Hmm … let me see.”
Joe reached out and grabbed me. He pulled me toward him in a rushed embrace. The sudden, unexpected action made my breath catch. My body tingled with the sudden bolt of electricity between us. “What?” I locked on to his eyes, which matched his sky-blue jersey. I’ve had a crush on you since you hired me—even if it is ill-advised.
He nodded toward the ceiling. “Mistletoe.”
I glanced up. A hearty sprig of mistletoe neatly tied with a red bow hung from the ceiling.
“That was close,” he said with a devil-may-care gleam in his eye. “I usually save the accidentally-stepping-under-the-mistletoe move for later.”
His sexy flirtation swirled around me and tingled my lips. Braced against him, all I could smell was cut pine and what I imagined was turkey seasoning that left traces of garlic, sage, and sweet onion on his jersey. It hung in the air for a truly hypnotic hit to the senses. My brain and body no longer functioned in unison. My body responded to his masculine hold, sending both a current of heat and a shimmer of pleasure everywhere. My brain knew I should stop gaping and say something clever.
Tidings of Love Page 24
