by Leanne Banks
Andrew chuckled again. “Looks like it’s still a no-go for Angie. Better luck next time, Brad.”
Or not, Forrest thought, still watching Angie. When the crowd applauded, she gave a quick little curtsey and wave then darted into the crowd. Within seconds, she appeared in front of him. Her eyes rounded. “Oh, wow, you’re still here.”
“I bought pies,” he said. “You’re a helluva dancer.”
“My brother and sister’s fault. They wanted me to be socially acceptable. I don’t think it worked,” she said and gave a quick, breathless laugh.
“Your partner wasn’t bad, either,” he said.
“Depends on your point of view. I tried to get you to dance,” she reminded him.
“Not my thing. Especially now,” he said.
“You could shuffle,” she said. “Shuffling is fun with the right person.”
“What you were doing wasn’t shuffling.”
“Tango in a peacoat.” She shrugged. “It was just classes. I wouldn’t know what to do with an American AK-27.”
He smiled. “AK-47,” he corrected. “And that’s Russian. Not American.”
Angie blinked. “Right. That’s what I meant,” she said. “Want another taste of pumpkin pie?”
“I think I’ve already had enough,” he said, but it was the image of Angie doing that sexy dance with Brad that was making his stomach turn. The expression on her face told him that she still saw him as a life-size G.I. Joe. “I’ll never be much of a dancer, Angie. You’re young. You should get a guy who can keep up with you on the dance floor,” he said and walked away.
Seconds later, he felt a sharp tug on his arm. He turned swiftly, finding Angie staring him in the face.
“You just insulted me. To think that I would choose to be with a man because he’s a good dancer?” Her face flushed with anger. “I’m not sixteen, so quit treating me that way. Have a nice day, and try not to act like a jerk to anyone else,” she said and this time, she turned away from him.
Forrest stared after her, shocked at her response. She was always so sweet and understanding. She’d put up with his grumpiness like no one else had. He felt a different kind of discomfort knot in his gut. She’d just given him a verbal smack upside the head. Maybe he’d deserved it, but he needed to keep his distance from her. She really didn’t deserve him insulting her, though. Over the past weeks, he’d learned she was a hard worker, harder than most people realized, and she had a heart of gold. He supposed everyone had their limit. Even sweet Angie.
He walked through the crowded streets to his office building. The receptionist was absent and he was relieved he wouldn’t be forced to make conversation when he didn’t feel like it. Sitting at his desk, he turned on his computer and tried to focus on his work. In the background of his mind, though, he kept picturing Angie’s wounded, angry face. Guilt stabbed at him. She didn’t deserve to endure his crankiness. She was a sweet woman. She deserved better treatment. Even from him.
* * *
After Angie was relieved by a volunteer willing to continue hawking, she went to the library and worked on a term paper. Despite the fact that she was still in a bad mood from her confrontation with Forrest, she decided to make a quick trip to ROOTS. Walking into the building, she saw several teens sitting in chairs and sipping hot chocolate. Happy to see Lilly and her brother, Joey, at one of the tables with some other students, she waved at them.
“Hi, Angie,” the group said in near-unison.
The sound of their voices gave her a little lift. “Hi, guys,” she said in return. “Everything going okay?”
“Except exams,” one of the guys said. “It’s like an oncoming train.”
“Me, too,” Angie said. “I’m in the middle of term papers. Do you know how many pumpkin pie orders we got today?”
“A ton,” Lilly said. “We’re going to have to turn into baking beasts.”
“Block out the three days before Thanksgiving,” Angie said.
“Will do,” Lilly said.
Angie glanced at Joey. The bruises on his face were fading, thank goodness. “Good to see you,” she said.
He nodded, but didn’t smile. She understood. He had to look cool. Angie chatted with the volunteer on duty and learned exactly how many pumpkin pies ROOTS would be baking next week. It wasn’t a ton, but it was a lot. She meandered around the room a little, but her restlessness took over, so she decided to go home.
Angie took the unusually long walk to her truck. She suspected it was over a mile and a half. It was after ten o’clock and snow had begun to fall. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she tried not to think about Forrest. It had been a great day. Aside from him. She’d made progress on her class assignments, ROOTS would make a nice chunk of change from the pumpkin pie sale and Joey had shown up at the center. Life was good, she told herself and stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake.
She unlocked her truck and stepped inside, closing the door and locking it. Sticking her key in the ignition, she turned it and there was a strange gurgling noise. She frowned and turned her key again. The gurgling noise only lasted a second. Silence followed.
Crap, she thought and sighed. She thought about going outside to ask someone for help and heard several voices including her brother and sister, tell her no. “Okay, okay,” she muttered and dialed her brother’s number. It went straight to voice mail.
Next she tried her sister. That went straight to voice mail, too. Angie scowled. It was late enough that her sister and brother could be sharing a romantic evening with their spouses. She hated to interrupt that, she thought wryly.
Angie tried a couple more people with no luck and wondered how she could be the only one by herself tonight. Her mind turned to Forrest. She suspected he was by himself tonight. She suspected he was awake, or if not, his cell phone was on. He might even answer it. After the way he’d talked to her today, she’d rather walk home than call Forrest.
She sat in the car a couple more minutes, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. It wasn’t getting any warmer. She dialed her brother again, and her sister. No luck for her. Maybe they were getting lucky, she thought. She turned the key in the ignition and got nothing still.
She exhaled and her breath created a visible vapor. Reluctantly surrendering, she punched in Forrest’s cell. She heard two rings and almost hung up.
“Hey. Forrest Traub. Is that you, Angie?”
“Yes,” she said in a low voice. “My car is dead.”
“Okay,” he said. “Where are you? I’ll be right there.”
“Corner of Main and Turner,” she said. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but—”
“I know you wouldn’t have called me if you could have found anyone else,” he said with a rough chuckle. “Hang on. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Angie stared at her phone then tossed it on the seat beside her. She drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel again, tempted to make a run for it. If she ran full force, she could be home in twenty-five minutes. Maybe.
This really sucked. She preferred to have Forrest crawl toward her in complete humility. He would lower himself on bended knee, which was currently an impossible position for him with his injured leg. Then he would beg her forgiveness for being such a terrific jerk.
Then he would profess his love for her. He would tell her how much he needed her and...
Okay, that was total fantasy. But it had been fun.
Headlights flashed from behind her and she bit her lip. She hoped she just needed a jump for her battery. Angie waited until Forrest pulled his truck beside hers and walked to her driver’s side window. She opened her door. “Hi,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”
“Least I could do after treating you so badly today. Let’s try your battery first,” he said and moved to the front of the trucks.
Stunned at his almost-apology, she stared after him. So this was payback, she suspected. His way of making up for being a meanie earlier today. She stepped outside her truck and joined hi
m in the cold night where snow fell.
“How many people did you call before me?” he asked.
“I lost count after the first five,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest to keep herself warm.
He scrubbed at his chin. “Go ahead and try to start it.”
Angie returned to the cab of the truck and turned the key and mashed the accelerator. Over the next several moments, she tried again and again. She took a break then tried again. No luck.
Forrest walked to her window. “Sorry. It’s not the battery.”
“I got that impression,” she said. “What do you think it is?”
“Maybe the alternator,” he said. “I’m not sure. You’ll need to get it into a garage. It’s late tonight. You can get a tow first thing in the morning. I could tow you if you want.”
She nodded. “This is very inconvenient. I have a packed schedule tomorrow.”
“I can help,” he offered. “I just have the meeting for veterans at the hospital.”
“Nice of you to offer,” she said.
“The least I can do,” he said. “Listen, I shouldn’t have been so—” He paused. “I shouldn’t have been—”
“Such a jerk?” she suggested.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Would it feel better to slap me?”
She recoiled at the thought. “I wouldn’t do that.”
He extended his hand. “Let me take you home. I’ll cart you tomorrow as much as I can.”
She accepted his assistance and got into his truck. He revved the engine and turned up the heat, as he headed toward her home. After a few moments, she felt the rush of warmth. “That feels good,” she said. Then, after a moment, “When did you realize you’d been a jerk?”
“Three steps after I walked away from you,” he said. “You deserve better treatment. You’re a great person. You do good things. You’re good to everyone.”
“Yep, that’s me. Tinker Bell.”
He shot her a quick glance. “I was trying to be sincere.”
“Don’t try too hard,” she said. “I still say you could shuffle.”
Forrest clenched his jaw. “Like I said, you deserve better.”
“And I decide what better is. Right?” she said. “Better is relative. I bet my tango is nowhere near as good as your ability to operate an AK-27.”
Forrest chuckled. “AK-47,” he said. “And like I told you before, that’s a Russian weapon.”
“Exactly,” she said. “That’s what I meant to say.”
“Yeah,” he said. “No offense, Tinker Bell, but I don’t want you in charge of issuing weapons.”
“No problem,” she said. “I’ve just got a few shotguns and pistols in the hall closet. I haven’t touched them.”
Forrest swore under his breath. “We’ll take care of that soon,” he said.
“Why? Some of them don’t even work,” she said.
“That’s why,” Forrest said. “You need to know what your weapons can and cannot do. What you don’t know about the weapons you own is dangerous.”
“You sound like an army major or something,” she said.
“You live by yourself,” he said. “This isn’t a joking matter.”
“I keep a baseball bat under my bed. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?”
Forrest clenched his jaw again. Silence followed.
“Are you counting? What number have you reached?”
He almost grinned as he pulled into her driveway and stopped the truck. He turned to her. “Half of you is an angel and half of you is a tormentor. I can’t help wanting to protect you, but at the same time, I don’t want to get in your way. You’re doing a lot of good.”
“Well, that’s nice of you. But, Forrest, you need to remember I’ve survived twenty-three years without you. As much as I appreciate you helping me with my truck, I could have run home in the snow. It wouldn’t have been fun, but I could have done it,” she said.
“So why didn’t you?” he asked.
“Because I knew you’d answer your phone,” she finally admitted. “I knew you’d come. And I knew my brother and sister would be really pissed at me if I wasn’t safe. Although I can run pretty fast when my adrenaline is turned up high.”
“I’m sure you can, but I’m really glad you called me. And I hope you’ll call me again if something like this happens again.”
“I hope it won’t,” she muttered and opened her door. Her heart was thumping in her throat. The expression on his face was hard for her to take. He wanted her, but hated the fact. “Thank you again for answering and for coming to help me.”
He surprised her by joining her. She’d thought he would just watch her from the truck. “I’ll call you in the morning. We can figure out what to do with your truck.”
“Yeah, I just hope it’s not too expensive, or I’ll have to hold my own bake sale,” she said, chuckling at the thought. The snow fell in soft flakes. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she said. “It’s so pretty when it falls like this instead of sideways.”
“You mean, instead of a blizzard?” he asked.
She nodded and stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake.
“You still do that?” he asked. “I haven’t tried to catch a snowflake on my tongue since I was a kid.”
“Well, you should,” she said sternly. “If I live to be eighty, I’ll still be catching snowflakes on my tongue.”
“Why?” he asked, and she felt his gaze on her from head to toe. His gaze wasn’t sexual. Darn it. It was more of curiosity. Almost wonder.
“Because it’s fun and it’s free, and it’s important to try to have fun every day of your life. Did you know that some experts say that play is the secret to happiness?”
“I don’t have time to play all day,” he said. “I have more important things to do.”
She turned to meet his gaze. “Maybe that’s why you get cranky. I dare you to catch a snowflake on your tongue. Betcha can’t do it,” she said.
He rested his hands on his hips and gave a half roll of his eyes. “Of course I can do it.”
“I don’t know that. You don’t even know that because it’s been so long since the last time. It does require some technique. Double dare you,” she said.
“This is crazy,” he said.
“But you’re thinking about it,” she said, unable to smother a smile.
“Okay, okay,” he said and stuck out his tongue.
“You need to stick out your tongue farther and lift up your head,” she said.
“Crazy,” he muttered again, but she could tell he was now determined to do it.
He made a few modifications and three seconds later, he caught a snowflake. He met her gaze. “Got one.”
“It was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Silly,” he said, walking toward her door.
“But fun,” she insisted.
“Yeah,” he said.
“That enthusiasm looks good on you,” she said then gave him a quick salute and walked inside her house. Angie leaned her back against the door and took several deep breaths. The fact that he had answered her call, the fact that he had come to help her grabbed at something deep inside her. She’d tried to make light of it, but the truth was his appearance tonight was one more thing that made him different. One more thing that convinced her that he was the one she wanted.
He wasn’t immune to her. She knew it. He might hate the fact, but he cared about her far more than he wanted.
* * *
After a restless night, Forrest dragged himself out of bed and drove to Angie’s house. He sucked down his second cup of coffee as he pulled into her driveway and turned off the engine to his truck and opened the driver’s side door. Before he could put one foot out, Angie darted from the house.
“I’m coming. I’m coming,” she said, carrying two steaming cups and a backpack flung over her shoulder.
“G’mornin’,” she said with a big smile and handed him a cup of coffee before she went to the passenger side of the truc
k.
Forrest held a cup in each hand and stared at one then the other.
Angie bounded into the seat beside him. “Oops. Do you need me to take that?” she asked.
He shook his head and swallowed the three drops left in the one he’d brought then tossed the cup into the back floorboard. “No. Thanks. I needed a third cup.”
Her eyes widened. “Whoa. How long have you been awake?”
“I’m awake, but not nearly as perky as you are.”
“I didn’t dry my hair all the way, so ice crystals are forming on my scalp. You’d be surprised how quick that’ll make you wake up.”
He grinned and took a drink of coffee. “This has some of that sweet stuff in it,” he said.
“Hazelnut. You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it,” she said.
“After three cups of coffee, what’s a cup of sugar?” he said and pulled out of her driveway.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“College library,” she said.
“What are we doing about your truck?”
“I called a tow service. They’re hauling it to the garage,” she said.
“I told you I could do that for you,” he said.
“You have enough to do today. Besides, they won’t charge me for the tow because their kids were once involved with ROOTS,” she said.
“Nice connections,” he said.
“They didn’t help me last night,” she said then shot him a lopsided smile. “Both my brother and sister called me this morning. At 6:00 a.m. They were panicked. I told them they were a little late. They both said they went to bed early. Yeah, I knew what they were doing while I was suffering in a dead car in the snow.”
He chuckled at her mock-dark tone. “Do I hear a touch of resentment from Miss Perfect?”
“I’m not Miss Perfect. And no resentment from me. Both my brother and sister sacrificed too much for me. I’m glad they’re happy. Really,” she said.
“But?” he prompted, hearing something else in her voice.
“But nothing,” she said.
Forrest let the silence sit between them. It was an awkward, uncomfortable silence.
