“Okay. Get your painting and we’ll be on our way.”
On their way to what?
Nowhere. That was the only sane answer.
And why was she thinking about Rob when she should be working on her new, brilliant schemes to promote the opening of Bliss House?
Especially after meeting all those lovely people who hoped to supplement their incomes by selling crafts. Among a dozen crafters, she’d talked with Miriam Jenkins and Muriel Henderson from the Garden Club, officially met Tom Dunwoody and seen some of his amazing decoys. She’d plied them with questions and solicited their opinions to get a better grasp of what Bliss House would be.
By the time she’d returned to the Hollands’ it had hardly seemed worth the effort to make calls to start looking for an apartment in New York, what with the time difference. But she had placed a dozen calls to track resources for the opening in Chicago, Milwaukee and Madison. She’d sort out what she’d gathered and dig up more on the Internet as soon as she took Chester for her walk.
Tomorrow, she would shop for supplies to create a presentation. Maybe she’d get some clothes, too; she hadn’t packed with the idea of staying this long. Maybe she’d buy colors, just to show Rob her closet wasn’t a black hole.
No! Stop thinking about Rob. Focus on what’s in front of you, Kay.
She’d taken a different route for this walk, heading away from the lake, watching the spaces between the houses grow. At the top of a rise the sidewalk ended and a cornfield began. Beyond the corn, she saw another field, a rich, sap-green, and in the distance, a curving line of trees.
She tipped her head back to a sky so cerulean-blue that Nell could have painted it. Clouds like someone had loaded his brush—or fingers—with titanium-white and made one bold zag. A solitary airplane bisected the cloud.
How many times had she flown over such land? She’d looked down and had seen crisp, neat patterns. But on the ground, where the trees met the fields was a flow, a movement, a swoosh you could almost hear. What appeared as hard, straight lines from the air were curves and connections. Like…like a child pretending his hand was an airplane or bird, banking, dipping, rising, curving. That was it. That was what this land made her feel like—almost floating. That freedom, that movement.
She loved New York with a native’s pride. Yet there was something about this place. On impulse, she flung her arms wide to the openness. The expansiveness not only of the sky above, but of the air around her and the earth below her feet. As if she’d spent her life with her shoulders hunched and now she could stretch, relax….
If it weren’t for the nagging image of Rob Dalton.
They were like two people face-to-face in a narrow hall, not sure how to get around each other. First one dodged one way, but the other person dodged the same way. Then you tried the opposite way, but so did the other person and there you were again, only closer, because you’d each taken a step forward. So you paused, and smiled those aren’t-we-silly smiles. And then you did the whole dance again.
Finally one of you has the good sense—probably him, because good sense was clearly one of his strengths and, considering her gene pool, she was lucky to have a standard ration—to step aside to let the other pass. Ah, but that was when you discovered just how narrow the passageway was.
No way to get past without brushing the other person, even if he turned totally sideways. But was he totally sideways? Or was he slanted, so when she tried to slide by, she had to brush against him. And that meant she felt his warmth, breathed in an awareness of the strength that gave rise to it. If she put her hands on his shoulders and leaned against the strength, the warmth would envelop her and…
And you began to wonder if you were going opposite directions after all, or if the reason you couldn’t get past each other was you were headed the same way. And that brought you right back to the first question: headed where?
Rob had left Kay alone the rest of the afternoon and evening, then all the next day.
But she hadn’t left him alone. He’d heard that the craftspeople at the meeting adored her. He’d heard that she’d walked Chester out to the Petersons’ farm. He’d heard that she’d been in town shopping.
Even when he wasn’t hearing reports of her, she stepped into his thoughts. Might as well see her for real. Besides, he’d been neglecting his assignment to acquaint her with life in Tobias.
He parked in the Hollands’ driveway as she and Chester came out of the house for their morning walk. He joined them.
She pulled out the camcorder, then looked at him. “Why are you making a face at my camcorder? What have you got against it?”
“You hide behind the thing.”
“I don’t hide behind it. It’s necessary. It’s training my eye for directing. The human eye looking at a scene automatically sorts out what’s important and what’s not. In film you have to frame the shot, so there’s no extraneous material for the viewer to sort through. It’s almost impossible for most people to look at a view and know how the shot will look without checking in the viewfinder.”
“How do you know if the extraneous material isn’t more interesting than what you see through the viewfinder if you don’t look around first?”
“It’s a matter of framing the shot. It’s technical—”
“Fine. You’re the expert. I thought we’d go to a baseball game tonight.”
She blinked at the change of subject. “I thought we were going to the library tonight.”
“It’s going to be a nice night, why spend it inside?”
“Ah, I knew there’d be a logical reason behind changing your mind,” she said with a sassy smile.
He ignored the words, but was less successful ignoring the smile. “Do you know anything about baseball?”
“I’m not a complete heathen. I did date a Yankees fan. Actually, Alexi has a box.”
He could see she expected that to get a reaction, but all he said as they neared the turn to Bliss House was, “I’ll bring the blanket, be ready at six.”
Her confusion showed—Yankee fans, especially those with boxes—clearly didn’t bring blankets.
Thinking about that, he turned left toward Bliss House. Trouble was, she kept going straight.
Rob wrapped his arms around her to keep from knocking her over. Her hands grasped his arms. The leash somehow crossed over, then under his arm. And to complete the package, Chester walked around them.
She fit against him with softness and warmth and firmness that made his arms tighten. His nose pressed against the fragrant softness of her hair. His hands opened, one across the curve below her waist, the other past her shoulder blade so that if he held her a little tighter, slid it a little farther, his fingertips would…
“Rob…”
She tipped her head back enough for him to see her eyes. Her mouth.
He knew what that mouth tasted like, felt like. He wanted it again. He wanted more.
The kiss during the shoot had been intense, but a kiss alone, not a meeting of body against body, not like this… This was how she would feel under him in his bed. This was how they would fit. This was…
“Rob.”
She wriggled. He closed his eyes. He knew she meant to gain space between them, but it sure didn’t make his body want to let go.
A car horn tooted gaily.
“People are staring, Rob.” Her voice reminded him of a dead leaf found in a corner of the garage in February. Touch it, and it crumbles.
“Chester—” He cleared his throat and started again. “You’ll have to get Chester to unwind first.”
It was a torture the Inquisition could have added to its repertoire, but with commands to the dog that sometimes went astray and would-be helpful moves that nearly made his head—and areas farther south—explode, they finally untangled.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly as they resumed the walk straight ahead. “I thought you took Chester to Bliss House.”
“I, uh, change our route.”
“Tired
of the scenery already?” He tried for light. “I suppose a Manhattanite would be bored by Tobias. There’s variety, but you must look for it—and spot change that’s as gradual as the continental drift.”
She smiled, but not one of her whole-face smiles. “Oh, I love that walk. Seeing the yards and the people. It’s not for me we’re going this way.”
He questioned her with a look.
“It’s for Chester,” she added, as if that should be obvious. “I read in a book that sniffing is like reading a newspaper for a dog. It’s how they find out who’s been doing what.”
“So to speak,” he murmured.
“Don’t laugh.” Her mouth turned down, but he knew it was to fight back a grin. “It’s their way of discovering the world and keeping up with the neighborhood. Chester needs more than updates of the same news every day, so I’m giving her variety.”
“Like trading off between the New York Times and New York Post.”
“Chester’s interested in local events. More like the Tobias Record and the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.” Her frown cleared. “Now you may laugh.”
He did.
Chapter Seven
Kay contemplated the seating at the baseball game. Bleachers. Metal bleachers. She wished she’d worn her cross-trainers instead of these contraptions that made each step an adventure and clanged like a Chinese gong.
And she definitely should have worn jeans instead of this new gauzy skirt. Yes, it moved beautifully, and showed off her legs, but it moved a little too much in the sputtering breeze. It would give spectators beneath her a real eyeful if she didn’t keep a vigilant hand pressing it down.
“Steady,” Rob said, beside her, cupping her elbow.
“How far up are we going?”
“Better view at the top.”
“Rob! Kay! Over here!”
She looked in the direction of the voice and felt herself teeter. Rob’s hold tightened. Suz stood waving from the top row of seats. Max sat beside her and Annette and Steve beyond her. Leaving it to Rob to wave back, Kay put her head down and climbed. Gingerly.
She was so grateful to reach the last row, she hurried ahead of Rob. Amid the greetings she started to sink down.
“Don’t sit!” a chorus advised her. Too late.
Sun-soaked metal. Bare legs beneath a gauzy skirt.
Hot seat. No longer a proverb. The real thing. So breath-robbing hot that for an instant she couldn’t move. Rob’s hand under her elbow came to the rescue again, tugging her up.
“Why didn’t you wait for me to put the blanket down?”
Oh, that’s what the blanket was for. When he had it in place, he gestured for her to sit, and it turned out the first try hadn’t blistered her behind beyond repair. The folded-over material provided surprising padding.
Rob sat next to her.
How odd. She knew the seat was metal covered by blanket, yet she had the sense the bench was made of something soft, so that when he sat, it compressed and made her tilt toward him. Something soft…like a mattress. No, don’t think about mattresses.
And, as long as she was giving orders, she added for her heart: Stop that ba-bam-ing.
The players took the field to sustained cheering. She joined with desperate gusto. She would concentrate on this game like the World Series.
“They’re awfully small.”
Max handed over a pair of binoculars. “Try these.”
She thanked Max. But, no, they were still small. And young.
She handed them back to Max. Only then did she become aware of Rob’s speculative look. “You do know this is American Legion ball,” he said in a low voice. “High-school-age kids.”
“Sure.”
Actually, she hadn’t thought about it. She’d heard baseball and she’d dressed like the crowd in Alexi’s luxury skybox. She’d wanted to look good. Jeans and cotton shirts like Suz and Annette wore would have been better.
“Double play! Great double play!” Rob cheered.
Unlike Alexi and his friends, these people watched the game.
The next inning, a great running, shoe-top catch in the outfield brought her to her feet along with the rest of the home crowd. As she settled back on her blanket cushion, she spotted a vendor.
“Oh, hot dogs. I love hot dogs.”
“I’ll be happy to get you one of those,” Rob said. That slant of his mouth was back. But why, she had no idea.
“Here you go.” Rob held out the hot dog wrapped in white paper.
She opened it, abruptly famished. Without taking her eyes from the field, she took a big bite. Just before her teeth found roll and what it covered, a spicy aroma surrounded her. In that instant flavor exploded in her mouth.
As she chewed, she became aware of Rob, and faces beyond him watching her. “Do you like it?” Suz asked.
She chewed thoroughly, swallowing the last bit. “What is it?”
“A brat.” The way Rob said it, it would be spelled brahwt.
“Brahwt,” she repeated. “I’ve heard of that. I love it.”
“Bratwurst,” he said. “Consider it a Wisconsin hot dog.”
“It can be a little strong,” Annette said.
“Not your mother’s hot dog.” Rob grinned as he bit into his.
“My mother’s hot dog would be made out of caviar,” Kay agreed.
“But it is your grandmother’s hot dog,” Suz said.
After a couple innings Kay had the rhythm of it. Baseball and non-baseball conversation wove together in an informal pas de deux. All talk stopped mid-sentence to follow the action on the field then resumed when the game calmed down. She couldn’t talk the baseball talk with the detail and knowledge that Suz, Max and Rob did—who could possibly tell from here whether Mickey had his changeup working?—but she knew the rudiments of the game, and she was holding her own.
By the bottom of the eighth inning, she was living every pitch with the home team, which trailed one to zero.
When the umpire called the next pitch a ball—the fourth one, allowing the batter to walk with no outs—she jumped to her feet, hollering. In a few succinct phrases, she conveyed that any idiot could see that had been a strike, unless his vision had been blocked as the result of a certain contortionist move.
She became aware of an abrupt silence around her. She looked down into stair-steps of surprised faces turned to her. She was the only one in their set of bleachers standing. And certainly the only one shouting.
“She’s from New York,” Max said to someone in the row in front of them. She thought a chuckle lurked under his words.
And she knew there was suppressed laughter in Rob’s voice as he added to no one in particular, “And she dated a Yankees fan.”
A mutter of understanding spread, and she spotted heads nodding sagely as she meekly sat.
“You don’t yell at umpires in Wisconsin?”
“That’s not entirely true,” Rob said. “But we might not be as, uh, vehement here in Tobias. And seldom at American Legion games.”
Suz patted her hand, “Especially not when the umpire’s Max’s foreman, Lenny. And if he did have his head where you suggested, work on Bliss House would come to a standstill.”
“What a great game! That throw to the plate in the seventh—wow!”
“The outfielder who made that throw is Max’s assistant’s husband’s little brother,” Suz said as they climbed down the bleachers. “He’s a star of the high school team.”
Annette laughed. “Suz knows the intricacies of Tobias relationships better than most natives.”
“Only ones connected to people I know, and people with great throwing arms.”
“He does have a great throwing—Oh! The concession stand.” Kay scooted ahead to the folding table loaded with team paraphernalia.
Rob chuckled as he slowed to wait for her.
Annette matched his pace. “It’s nice to have that back.”
“What back?”
“Your laugh.”
“I laugh.
”
“Not much this summer, and it’s gotten worse as the summer’s gone on. I was a little concerned that…well, when Suz and Max got together…”
“That I was pining after Suz? No, we sorted that out at the start. As much as I like and respect Suz, there’s none of that feeling between us.”
“I was certain of that when I saw you with Kay.”
Whoa! Talk about blindsided. “Don’t get any ideas, Annette. I’m showing her around Tobias because that’s what the committee wants.”
Her smile spread to dazzling proportions. She patted him on the arm as she said, “That’s okay, Rob. You go on pretending that.”
Kay’s arrival spared him from answering. She carried two T-shirts—one black and one orange. “I got you one, Rob. As thanks for bringing me to the game and introducing me to brats.”
Rob reached for the orange one. “Black. What a surprise.”
“Actually, the black one’s for you.” She held it out to him, arm extended. Her other hand clutched the orange shirt to her chest. “I’ve never liked orange. But I’ve decided this is burnt sienna. And it’s mine, all mine.”
Ten minutes later, he opened her car door in front of Tastee-Treat, and asked, “Are you sure you want ice cream?”
“Absolutely,” she declared, emerging from the car with grace despite having the blanket wrapped around her. “This is all part of really getting to know Tobias, right?”
When the sun dropped below the horizon, the stands had cooled rapidly. Sweaters and light jackets popped out all over. Kay sat in that filmy skirt and lethally simple top with goose bumps showing all along her arms.
It had been an act of supreme self-sacrifice to get off the blanket and wrap it around her. He didn’t mind giving up the cushion, it was losing sight of those beautiful shoulders that made him feel like a martyr.
If she had ice cream, she’d probably never let the blanket slide away.
She practically danced with delight through the packed parking lot toward the ordering windows.
“We beat ’em. Pummeled ’em. Sent ’em home crying to their mamas.”
Least Likely Wedding? Page 12
