Beauty and the Big Bad Wolf

by Carol Grace

  “I was,” he said with a rueful grin. “I didn’t mean to do that. Kiss you, I mean. But you’ve got that berry juice all over your lips and…” He shrugged. “I couldn’t help it.”

  “You do, too. There are purple stains all over your mouth. I was afraid we’d stick together.”

  “I can think of worse ways to spend the afternoon.” His mouth curved in a half smile, and his eyes gleamed.

  “Why, Mr. Do Not Disturb, Beware of Dog, are you flirting with me?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  She was flustered. Yes, this was what Granny had wanted to happen. But it was not what Amelia wanted. Now, what was it they’d been doing here? Oh, yes. She reached for another blackberry and got a thorn stuck in her finger.

  “Ouch,” she said.

  He grabbed her hand. “Let me see that.” He pulled the thorn out, and a spot of blood dotted her thumb. “Let’s go. I’ll get you a bandage at my house.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Brave lady.”

  She shook her head. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “Not even another kiss?”

  “Well…”

  He put his hands on her shoulders, and this time he kissed her firmly and deliberately. The first kiss had been an experiment, a chance, a suggestion. This was nothing like that. This time he knew what he was doing, and so did she. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. He tasted of the sweet-sour berries, and she couldn’t seem to get enough of the taste, or of him. The sun beat down on her hair, the scent of dry, fragrant wild grass hung in the air and the buzzing of bees came from somewhere in the background. Her heart fluttered. He moaned deeply, and suddenly Amelia realized what they were doing, dropped her arms and broke the kiss.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, knotting her hands together. What had she been thinking?

  “No,” he agreed calmly. “But I’m glad you did.”

  “Let’s see,” she said, wiping her forehead with her hand, “where were we?”

  “On our way to my house.”

  “Your house? I should be getting back.”

  “I thought you wanted to see my stuff.”

  “Yes, but…” She was dizzy, disoriented. “What about Granny?”

  “You’ve got your phone. And she’s probably still asleep.”

  Neither one said that Granny would be more than pleased at the recent developments. But both of them thought it.

  “How’s your thumb?” he asked.

  “My thumb?” What thumb? She looked at it as if it belonged to someone else. “Oh, fine.”

  They scrambled out of the brambles, went back to the trail and in minutes, they were at his house. Dante barked an enthusiastic greeting at the gate and followed them as they walked around to the barn. Amelia scratched the dog behind his ears while Brian opened the double doors. He hesitated for a long moment, as if he regretted his rash offer. As if he wished he’d let her go straight home from the berry patch.

  “I don’t know if these things will mean much to a girl who never had any toys,” he said, one hand on the door handle.

  “Maybe it’s not too late,” she said, peering inside at the shelves filled with plastic and metal parts, boxes and tools. “I think I deserve a second childhood.”

  That brought a half smile to his face. What an effort it was to coax one out of him, but she had to say—it was worth it. There were even small laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. Hard to believe, but once upon a time he’d laughed a lot. The question was—would he ever laugh again?

  Now, more than ever, she wondered what had happened to him a year ago. Why had he stopped working? But now was not the time to ask. Not when he’d opened his barn to her. Which was really all she wanted. Just to see what was so special, so interesting in there that he had to guard it with warning signs and a watchdog. She certainly didn’t want him to open his heart. Just his barn.

  Brian realized it was too late to stop now. When she saw the contents, she might make polite remarks, she might not even bother. But they’d come this far and he was out of excuses. So he flipped on the light switches, and the whole barn was illuminated.

  He watched her look around with an awed expression on her face. He watched her tiptoe past racks of toys as if she were in a museum. Then she started asking questions: “What’s this?” “What do you do with that?” “How did you make this?”

  She paused in front of one of his favorites.

  “It’s a pogo stick,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one before.” She shook her head. He took it off the shelf and grabbed a helmet and a pair of knee pads. “I’ll show you how it works.”

  He carried it outside into the sunlight. “Usually,” he explained, “pogo sticks have springs here. This one is powered by air, so it has more kick.”

  Encouraged by the attentive look she gave him, he strapped on the knee pads and buckled the helmet under his chin. Then he bounced up and down on the gravel driveway. She clapped her hands and laughed out loud. He grinned at her and got off.

  “Can I try?” she asked.

  “Sure.” He put the knee pads on for her, his fingers grazing the smooth skin on her long legs, then he snapped her helmet in place, tracing a line along the curve of her chin with his fingers. “In case you fall,” he explained. But right now, he felt like he was the one in danger of falling. This afternoon was turning out to be a mind-boggling experience. He was afraid he was going to regret it, but right now, he wanted to see her on his pogo stick. For a girl who’d had no toys, it ought to be interesting.

  “In case I fall? I will fall. I’ve never done this before.”

  She did fall, but she got up and tried again and again. She bounced, she laughed, she bit her lip and she jumped off. Finally, breathless and red-cheeked, she handed the pogo stick back to him. “That was great. I did okay, didn’t I?”

  “You did great. Are you sure you’ve never done it before?”

  “Positive. My parents would never have let me.”

  “Too dangerous?”

  “Too frivolous.”

  He could just imagine what she’d looked like as a child, freckle-faced with red hair. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and studied her red cheeks, her brown eyes and the tendrils of hair curling around her face. “Poor little girl.”

  “I had other things,” she said defensively.

  “Like books.”

  “And classes—music and French—and games. Games were all right, as long as they were educational.” She glanced back at the barn. “What else have you got in there?”

  “In-line skates that grow with the child, a play kitchen where the food turns color when it’s done, kid-size toy cars with hand brakes and an adjustable bucket seat, a roller coaster six-and-a-half feet long that the kid has to construct, with real sounds, twists, turns and loops.”

  “You have some fantastic ideas.”

  “Unfortunately, most of what you’ve seen in there are just ideas—that’s all they are. Oh, they’re all patented, and I’ve made the prototypes, but only a few are in production at this time. About a year ago, I pulled most everything off the line. Nothing new has been tested since then. They’re all just crude samples except for the pogo stick and the toy kitchen stove. I made those a few years ago, and they’re still being sold. As you saw, everything else is coated with a layer of dust or rust. Everything is just sitting here, like me, waiting….”

  “But why? Never mind. It’s none of my business. You know, I’ve never been on a real roller coaster. My parents said they were dangerous and would make me sick.”

  “They were probably right. But if you want to try… There’s a carnival over at Glenwood at the county fair. I was thinking of taking a day trip tomorrow to try it out. Research, you know.”

  “So you’re still doing research. You are working.”

  “I’m only thinking about working. That�
�s not the same. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

  “I’d like to go, but I couldn’t leave Granny.”

  “Some other time.” He was half disappointed, half relieved. It would take all day, and he knew spending another day with her was not a good idea. She put all kinds of ideas in his head. As if he was ready for some kind of a relationship with a woman, which he wasn’t. Even if he was, it wouldn’t be her. Sure, today she looked the country girl. Sure, she even tasted like a country girl—a very sexy country girl. But she wasn’t. And even if she was, she was almost engaged and headed back to the city soon. Just as well. Why put himself in that position again? He was fine the way he was.

  “Speaking of Granny,” she said, dusting off her hands. “I’d better be getting back. Thanks for the tour and the pogo stick lesson.”

  She didn’t mention the kiss or the blackberries. Probably she wanted to forget that episode as much as he did.

  “Wait. You need a bandage.” He was surprised she didn’t protest and just leave, but when he got back from the medicine chest, she was still standing there. He wrapped the bandage around her finger. Then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.

  “Better?” he said.

  She nodded mutely. Her eyes were the color of brown velvet, and so deep, he felt himself sinking further and further into their depths. He stood there for a long moment, staring down into them and holding her hand in his.

  Then abruptly she turned, and he watched her walk down the path—her trim waist, her firm bottom, her straight shoulders and that hair, shining so brightly in the late afternoon sun, he had to shade his eyes.

  He put the pogo stick back in the barn and closed the door without looking around at the half-finished projects. They just made him feel guilty and restless. He should never have shown her around. She was only being polite. But if he hadn’t, she never would have bounced around on his pogo stick, and that was a sight he wouldn’t forget—her nose wrinkled in concentration, her face flushed, her legs pumping up and down. Another thing he wouldn’t forget, though he intended to do his damnedest, was the taste and touch of her lips. Then there were her eyes, so deep, he’d almost drowned in them. Despite the shaft of disappointment that he’d felt when she’d declined his invitation to the fair tomorrow, he was relieved. This whole thing was too sudden, too strange and too much to handle.

  When Amelia got back to the cottage, Granny had a pot of soup simmering on the stove. She was back on the couch, though, and pooh-poohed Amelia’s concern that she was doing too much.

  “Sorry I took so long,” Amelia said. “Your neighbor showed me around his barn.”

  “Really?” Granny’s eyes widened. Amelia was afraid she’d read too much into this development. Sure enough, Granny beamed her approval. “And you saw what a great talent he is, and how sad it is he’s not working.”

  “You’re right. Actually, in certain circles, he’s famous. I read about him on the Internet.”

  Granny leaned forward on the couch. “Your lips are purple.”

  Amelia started guiltily. “Oh, that’s from the blackberries along the path.”

  Granny nodded, but the look in her bright eyes told Amelia she knew more than she’d been told. Then Granny changed the subject. “Did he say anything about working again?”

  “Not really, except he did mention wanting to do some research.”

  “That’s good, very good,” Granny said, rubbing her blue-veined hands together. “We must do everything we can to encourage him. By the way, I had a call from the home-help people over in Grandville. They’re coming here tomorrow to do some physical therapy and set up some special equipment for me, hand bars for the bathtub, things like that. I told them about you and they suggested you take the day off. That’s one of their functions—to give the caregiver a day off.”

  “You mean you don’t want me here?” Amelia knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth that she was sounding like the petulant child she once was.

  “Now, Amelia—”

  “That’s fine,” she said quickly. “I can get some work done.”

  “Work? On your day off?”

  Amelia didn’t say anything. Was this really just a coincidence that Granny was giving her the day off and Brian wanted to take her to a carnival? It had to be. Besides, what would her parents say, what would her colleagues say, if they knew she was going to a county fair instead of working? It was a silly idea. It was a perfect chance to work. Then why did she feel cheated? Why did she feel this was indeed a vacation and she deserved to have some fun? It was a childish notion.

  After dinner, Granny turned on her favorite sitcom and Amelia wandered outside in the twilight. What was to be gained by going to a fair, she asked herself as she walked through Granny’s vegetable garden, ostensibly looking for ripe tomatoes, but mostly just occasionally stooping to yank at an errant weed.

  She could list the negatives on one hand. First, she would be spending more time than necessary with the admittedly attractive Brian Wolf, which might possibly help him in his so-called research, but would not help her in doing any productive work. Second, she would be giving her grandmother false hopes that this was an important step forward in getting the two of them together. Third, she was afraid she might make a fool of herself on the roller coaster by getting sick. Fourth, she was afraid he might kiss her again, and fifth, she might enjoy it even more than today’s kiss and kiss him back. Again. She was not in the market for a summer romance. She had a boyfriend, she reminded herself. A little late for a reminder, but nonetheless… She was not cut out to be anybody’s muse, either. If he wanted to get back to work, he would. Nobody could force anybody else to do something against their will. Especially not her.

  All those reasons, and yet, the next thing Amelia knew she’d sneaked back into the house to get her cell phone, and called Brian. When she heard his deep voice answer, her heart started pounding, and she almost lost her nerve and hung up. What was she doing? At best, this could be a summer romance, at worst, an embarrassing, inconvenient encounter.

  “I, uh… About that trip to the fair to ride the roller coaster…”

  “Don’t worry. It was just a suggestion. I understand perfectly.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. You came to take care of your grandmother. When I suggested it, I wasn’t thinking.”

  She felt a cold shiver of disappointment. He was glad she wasn’t coming. He hadn’t really wanted her to go with him at all. “Are you going anyway?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Well that’s too bad.”

  He paused.

  “Because,” she continued, “Granny will be taken care of tomorrow and I could go with, if, that is, you were still going. But if you’re not…” What was wrong with her? She was babbling like an idiot.

  “I’ll pick you up at nine,” he said tersely, and then he hung up. She stood there as night fell in the garden, listening to the crickets and the far-off sound of the laugh track from Granny’s program, and she had the strangest feeling that she’d turned a corner and there was no going back. It was ridiculous. She was making too much of this. She was simply going to a county fair with a friend of Granny’s. Then why was she breathing so hard? Why was her palm sticking to her phone?

  She went back in the house, made a cup of frothy cappuccino for both her and Granny and watched a program with her grandmother. She would have been hard put, however, to say what the program had been about and who’d been in it.

  Her mind wandered to the man she’d spent the day with. She thought about how peaceful he’d looked sleeping in the sun, and how energetic he’d been demonstrating the pogo stick. She thought about his hands, the gentle way he touched her finger, the way he traced the outline of her cheek, the way he kissed her so hungrily, as if he’d been starving for a long time. But why? He was attractive, creative, well-to-do, unattached. What had happened to make him seal himself off? And what would it take to get him to open up? Oh, yes
, he’d started today. But then he’d shut down again. What would happen tomorrow? She shivered in anticipation, and Granny, always perceptive—sometimes too perceptive—handed her a hand-knit afghan from the couch without taking her eyes from the screen.

  The next morning, Amelia had to tell Granny where she was going. But Granny was careful not to show any more enthusiasm than was necessary. After a brief pause, during which Granny digested the news, she just said, “Have a nice time.” And then added, “Take a sweater. It gets cool at night.” As if she’d be gone into the evening. How long did it take to ride a roller coaster?

  Either Granny had changed her mind about matchmaking, or she’d decided to cool it. Whatever it was, Amelia was grateful.

  “You look very nice,” Granny said, her head tilted to one side.

  Uh-oh. If Granny thought she looked nice, maybe she ought to change. Amelia looked down at her bright, hip-hugging, patterned capri pants and lavender knit shirt. What did it matter how she looked? It was not her intent to impress or seduce Brian Wolf. She was simply accompanying him on a research trip.

  “Don’t hurry back,” Granny insisted. “The home-help workers are bringing two square meals.” Just then, Brian drove up in his truck, and Granny waved to him through the window. “There he is, that handsome devil. Don’t keep him waiting. And remember—”

  “I know, act helpless.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say,” Granny said, pursing her lips. “Just relax. Have a good time.”

  Amelia kissed her on the cheek, then hurried out the door before Granny could give her any more advice. With her stomach doing flip-flops, she felt as if she were on a first date or going to a prom. Brian reinforced the feeling by opening the truck door for her and giving her a long, appreciative look.

  Maybe she’d worn the right things after all. No matter how much she protested, maybe this was their first date. She bit her lip and gave herself a strong warning. Get real. First and last, she told herself.

  Then he spoiled the effect by saying, “What, no cell phone?”

  “It’s Sunday,” she said. “I’m taking the day off.”