A Wedding in Apple Grove

by C. H. Admirand

  “It’s starting to sound better all the time.”

  “Have you decided who you want to meet first?” Meg figured it would be a good idea to test the waters vicariously through Honey B. That way, she could be a help to her friend and figure out what exactly this whole Internet dating thing was all about, just in case Dan wasn’t interested now that he’d purged the bridge incident from his soul.

  Her friend shrugged. “There were so many replies, I don’t know where to start.” She waited a beat before asking, “Want to help me pick out my first three candidates?”

  Meg grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter 8

  Meg poured another glass of wine for Honey B. and herself. “Mmmm.” She licked her lips after taking a long slow sip of the red wine. “I usually don’t drink wine,” she confided in her friend. “I like beer.”

  Honey flicked a glance in Meg’s direction and grinned. “I know. But now and then it’s good to change it up. Try something different.” She was staring at the computer screen and was using the mouse to shift from one picture to another. “Take these five guys, for instance.”

  Meg scooted closer. “I like the fireman from Newark. He sounds dedicated and likes the outdoors—and working with his hands.” Meg sighed. “There’s just something about a man with callused hands—it feels so—” She stopped before she shared just a bit too much information.

  Honey B. sighed. “That’s the problem; I’m not a wilderness type of girl. I’m more of the I’ll-sit-here-by-the-fire-and-admire-the-wood-you-just-chopped kind of gal.”

  Their shared laughter felt wonderful. Meg was loose from a long night of loving, and although she wondered if she could convince Dan she was worth the time to get to know, she wasn’t worried about it right now. Honey B.’s happiness was on the line, and besides, it was up to Dan to make the first move. Wasn’t it?

  She pointed to the second picture Honey B. brought up. “How about him?”

  They both stared at the picture and then each other. “He’s a teacher over at the Police Academy.”

  “So?” Honey B. hadn’t looked up from the photo, so she couldn’t see the expression on Meg’s face.

  “You need to stop thinking about Mitch.”

  Her friend scrunched up her face and looked over her shoulder. “Maybe I happen to like guys who are involved with the law.”

  Meg snickered into her wineglass. “Just make sure they aren’t on the wrong side of the law.”

  Honey B. started giggling and couldn’t stop. “Now I have to pee.” She got up and said, “See what you can come up with for me,” as she ran down the hall to the bathroom. “I like the Police Academy instructor and the fireman so far, but I’d like at least one more so I can have three dates lined up for the end of this week.”

  While Honey B. was occupied, Meg quickly scanned the profiles of the most likely candidates, selecting a former air force pilot, who could be tricky—pilots were known for their big egos. But then again, they had a right to feel that way with all of their specialized training.

  When her friend walked back into the room, Meg had added a few more men to Honey B.’s list.

  “I’m not interested in meeting a rancher or an entrepreneur; I have my own business to worry about. Besides, on the outside chance that things start cooking, I don’t want to have to travel too far and get stuck out on somebody’s ranch.”

  “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.” Meg always admired that trait in her friend. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “Once I find a man, I’ll help you find one too.”

  “Gee, Honey B.,” Meg said. “You’re such a good friend.”

  “Cross your fingers,” she said as she clicked the mouse.

  “Crossed,” Meg promised.

  “Now we wait.”

  “How about if we plan out what you’re going to wear and what you want to do for your dates?”

  “I was going to leave that up to my dates.”

  Meg shook her head. “OK, but these guys are virtual strangers, right?”

  Honey B. agreed. “So?”

  “Then you should have an idea of where you want to go, so that you’ll at least be in comfortable or familiar surroundings.”

  “I never thought of that.”

  Meg grinned. “I know. You’re too busy wondering what you’ll do if one of these stellar guys decides he wants more than a good-night kiss.”

  “I’m not jumping into bed with anyone I don’t know.” Honey B. must have realized what she’d said a moment after the words had left her mouth—too late to call them back. “Meg—I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” she reassured her. “It was my decision, and it wasn’t right after our first meeting—it was a couple of days—and besides, I know his great-aunt.”

  “I’m not judging you, Meg,” Honey B. told her. “I was just making a decision as to what I want and don’t want to do.”

  Meg nodded. “Just be open to the possibility that one of these men might just knock your socks off with a look that will have your panties in a twist—in a good way. You need to be prepared, just in case. At least bring a three-pack.”

  The look on her friend’s face was worth a picture. Honey B. finally agreed, “I guess it’s a good idea.”

  “So what are you going to wear?”

  “I’ve never had a chance to wear this dress I bought two years ago.” Honey B. reached into her closet and pulled out a tiny black dress that didn’t look like much on the hanger. With a glance at her friend, Meg knew it would look amazing on Honey B.—she wasn’t built like a hanger.

  “Why don’t you try it on to make sure you still love the way it fits and then you can show me the shoes you’re going to wear?”

  While they played dress up, they heard Honey B.’s inbox receiving mail. “It couldn’t be.”

  Meg shrugged. “Why not? I’d email you back right away. You’re a seriously hot chick, my friend.” Honey laughed as Meg hoped, and they both took one more look at Honey’s form-hugging little black dress and the electric-blue spike heels she pulled out of the back of her closet. “You could be arrested for inciting men to riot.”

  “That good?” Honey B. asked.

  “You know it,” Meg reassured her. “Let’s see who’s trying to email you.”

  With a few clicks, Honey B.’s inbox was open—and so was her mouth. She closed it and whispered, “Every one of them?”

  Meg grinned. “I have a feeling you’re going to forget old what’s-his-name by the time the weekend is over.”

  Honey B. tried to give her the stink eye, but it didn’t work. “We’ve been friends too long,” Meg told her. “Besides, I’m trying to decide just how much of this information to leak to the sheriff.”

  “My brain’s not working—maybe I’ve had too much wine.”

  Meg giggled and upended the bottle, checking to see if they’d finished it off. “Yep, it’s ready to recycle.” With a glance at her friend who was still staring at the computer screen, she asked, “Coffee to sober up a little, or should I open another bottle?”

  “When was the last time you and I spent the night watching old movies and drinking wine?”

  That had her pausing to think; when she realized it had been a couple of years, she answered cheerfully, “Too long.” Meg grabbed their empty wineglasses. “I’ll open another bottle. Meet me in your living room.”

  An hour later they were halfway through How Green Was My Valley and crying buckets. “Whose idea was it to watch this?” Meg demanded.

  “Yours.” Honey B. held out her hand. “Pass me the tissues.”

  By the time Roman Holiday had finished, they’d wound down and were sipping hot cocoa. “I always wished they’d met again and had a stormy love affair,” Honey B
. confided. “Gregory Peck just has this way he looks at Audrey Hepburn that makes me want to tell her to toss her crown, kick up her heels, and jump him.”

  “Yeah,” Meg agreed, “but then you’d miss out on all that angst they so obviously felt having to sacrifice their love for who and what she was.”

  “Did you ever wonder what you’d do if it was you?”

  Honey B. hadn’t realized how closely the movie mirrored her relationship with the sheriff. Meg wasn’t sure she should point that out now when they were still just slightly buzzed from the yummy red wine. But then again, she wasn’t sure if her friend would see the similarities between the sheriff’s job and Audrey’s job as princess. She decided to turn the focus away from Honey B., saying, “No, my story’s not quite as angst-filled, just really sad.”

  “Like Maureen O’Hara,” Honey B. said quietly.

  Meg didn’t want to acknowledge the comparison to the movie they’d watched earlier, so she snipped, “Which movie? She appeared in several.” Hating the way her voice sounded, even to hear own ears, she picked up her mug and swallowed a mouthful of cocoa so she wouldn’t have to talk.

  “The one we just watched. She never gave up loving Walter Pidgeon, ever.” After a long pause her friend added, “You really should forget about Jimmy and focus on Dan. I like him.”

  Meg was about to give her a snippy comeback, then realized that her friend was right, but more, she already had taken the first steps. “I do too. I just wish I knew whether I’m going to get my heart stepped on again or if it will be the beginning of a fabulous love affair.”

  Honey B. crossed her legs to sit Indian-style and settled in the corner of the couch, mug in hand. “Why can’t you be the one to push for what you want? Why does it have to be the guy who makes all of the moves?”

  Meg set her mug down. “I can and it doesn’t.”

  “I’m liking this new direction my love life is taking.”

  Meg agreed. “You’re taking control of it and moving in a positive direction. What’s not to like?”

  ***

  Across the street, one of the men in question rolled his shoulders and punched the steering wheel. “Is she going to stay all night?” Sheriff Wallace had been sitting in his truck for the last few hours, waiting for Meg to leave so he could go up and talk some sense into Honey B.

  But he couldn’t have that particular conversation if the stubborn woman wasn’t all alone. “Damn fool women,” he grumbled. “Always sticking in pairs.” He couldn’t say what bothered him more: the prospect of Honey B. looking for love outside of Apple Grove or the worrisome fact that she just might find it.

  He shook his head and punched the wheel again. “Shit that hurts.” He shook his hand until it stopped aching. Squeezing his hand into a tight fist and then opening it all the way, he satisfied the worry that he had broken bones in it.

  “Why would she want to date someone she didn’t know?” But he already knew the answer: because she was tired of waiting for him to ask. Lord, that woman had turned him inside out and backward the first time she’d looked at him—and she’d been one hundred percent jailbait at the time.

  A lawman to the bone, he could no more encourage her than he could step over that line and taste what she so willingly offered. She’d been fifteen at the time, seven years younger than him. So he’d waited, bided his time, but when she’d turned eighteen, the town had been undergoing some serious growing pains and he’d spent the better part of that year and the next keeping the latest crop of teenagers from breaking their heads—and the law.

  She’d turned twenty-one before he had blinked an eye, and that was nine years ago—where had the time gone? Sitting in the cab of his pickup, he shivered. It wasn’t the temperature so much as the dampness that chilled him to the bone.

  Watching the living room window, he swore. He could tell from the light flickering inside that the two weren’t going anywhere tonight. “Another damned movie.” He knew she had a stockpile of old movies; he shared a similar passion for the classics, but he preferred the war movies—action and adventure.

  Turning the truck on, he let it heat up for a few minutes before turning it back off again. He should just give up and go home, but couldn’t as long as there was a chance of Meg leaving in the wee hours of the morning. He could still have that talk with Honey B.—even if he had to wait all night.

  ***

  The tap on the window woke him. And there she was, smiling and holding up a steaming mug of what he knew would taste like ambrosia. Pride tossed to the wind, he rolled down the window and nodded. “Mornin’, Honey B.”

  “What kept you parked outside my house all night, Sheriff?” From the look on her face, the woman had no clue. Hell, if she’d had a clue she wouldn’t be setting herself up for a cyber date of disastrous proportions.

  “Official business,” he grumbled, then added, “if there is a God—and I truly believe there is—then that cup of coffee is for me.”

  She smiled and handed it through the window. “Hot, black, and sweet, just how you like it.”

  He reached for the mug with both hands so he could cup her hand and the mug, and watch her reaction. Her full-body shiver spilled some of the coffee onto the back of his hand. It was hot as hell—just as he’d always imagined Honey B. would be. He sucked in a breath and ignored the burn. He’d have to wait her out and see if he could salvage what could have been a relationship with this woman, but he had to be smart and let her go out on a few damn dates first.

  “Thank you,” he rasped. He sipped the coffee when what he really wanted was to sip from her lips. He’d had it bad but had put it off, had let his job rule his life, but if he weathered this next little while and could prove to her that he was ready for a relationship, things just might start moving in the direction he’d been dying to take them—to his house and his bed.

  She turned to go and he reached for her, keeping her close for just a few minutes more. When he couldn’t say all of the things that were in his heart, he warned, “Be careful.”

  She nodded and walked away.

  ***

  “Well, what did he have to say for himself?” Meg demanded when her friend came back inside.

  She shrugged and reached for the steaming mug of coffee Meg was holding out to her. “He thanked me and told me to be careful.”

  Meg shook her head. “He’s afraid of you, but he’s willing to let you go—for now.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “How long have you been tossing your feminine wiles in that man’s face?” Meg figured it had been close to fifteen years but waited to hear what Honey B. would say.

  “Ten years, tops.”

  Meg laughed. “Liar. You’ve been stuck on him since you called for help the night we were up on the water tower.”

  Honey B.’s eyes narrowed. “If I hadn’t, you would have lost your grip, fallen on your head, and broken it.”

  Meg agreed but was smiling as she took another drink of coffee. “Tell me again how his jaw clenched and his eyes got that determined look in them as he got out of his truck and ran past you and started climbing?”

  Her friend’s eyes got a faraway look in them and Meg knew she was reliving their shared nightmare.

  “I got out of his way but followed him over to the tower,” she whispered. “He kept mumbling something under his breath, but I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying.”

  “Probably because I’d started yelling for help by then.” Meg snickered.

  “He almost looked like he dreaded the task,” Honey B. said, “but then started climbing and then next thing I knew he had a hold of you and had swung you onto his back and was climbing back down.”

  “I don’t remember much past him telling me I was safe and to take his hand,” Meg said quietly. She didn’t like to think about that night, p
artly because she’d been fourteen years old and embarrassed that she’d gotten dizzy when she looked down and scared the crap out of herself when she almost fell. It was the third and last time the sheriff had had to rescue her.

  “Well, it all turned out OK,” Honey B. said. “Although I can’t help but think that if he had dropped you on your hard head, it might have been a good thing—maybe you wouldn’t have spent so much time working yourself to the bone trying to forget about Jimmy, all the while waiting for him to show up and have a change of heart about this town.”

  “That wasn’t why I spent all that time working and you know it.” Meg didn’t want to get angry with her friend, so she buried the resentment deep. She didn’t want to talk about losing her mother or the years that just piled one right on top of the other as she eased her grief by keeping her hands busy and her neighbors homes in good working order.

  To distract her friend, she asked, “So what’s the plan for today?”

  Honey B. sipped and then said, “I’m going to color my hair.”

  Meg snorted the sip of coffee she’d intended to swallow. She took the napkin her friend offered and blew her nose. “That hurt.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose a second time.

  “If you weren’t so busy laughing at me, you wouldn’t have snorted that hot coffee.” Their gazes met and Honey’s lips twitched up into a smile. “Besides, what’s so funny about me coloring my hair?”

  “Nothing. I know it’s how you advertise… well, at least that’s what you say is the reason you do it so often.”

  “Why else would I?”

  Meg paused and set her cup down. “To catch a certain sheriff’s eye when you’re out in front of your shop sweeping the sidewalk.”

  “Hmmpf. A lot you know.” But her friend was already moving on to the next thought. “Maybe I should go back to my real color.”

  Meg laughed out loud. “I can’t remember that far back.”

  “Honey blonde.”