At Long Last, a Bride

by Susan Crosby

  And they’d reached a time when they were ready to come home.

  Someday maybe Joe would, too. But Jake had stayed away for almost twenty years first, and Donovan sixteen. A very long time. They’d both left town at eighteen, and their experiences had shaped who they were, whereas Joe would be going out fully formed and mature. She wondered if that would make a difference.

  “I can hear how hard you’re thinking,” Joe said, the words rumbling in his chest in a way that almost brought tears to her eyes. It seemed so normal. Something they’d done thousands of times after waking up together.

  He played with her hair, stretching out the curls then letting them bounce back. She loved how it felt, always had.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She couldn’t sing his praises too much. It would make it doubly hard to say goodbye in the morning. But she couldn’t remember sex with him being so…elemental. Wonderfully so. Part of it came from a year of celibacy, part of it from knowing each other well, but also, they fit.

  “I’m beyond okay,” she finally answered.

  “Me, too,” he said.

  “I could tell.” She smiled. She hadn’t been so relaxed in forever. “Thanks for thinking to blow out the candles.” She rose up on an elbow so that she could see her bedside clock.

  “What? We slept two hours!” She scrambled to sit up, panicked. Two hours of their night were gone. Gone. Never to be recaptured.

  “Nice scenery,” he said, laying his hands along her thighs and slowly massaging them. “Thank you.”

  Wasn’t he listening? Wasn’t he paying attention? They’d lost two hours by sleeping. Two whole hours.

  His hands stopped moving. “What’s wrong?”

  She’d made a mistake by inviting him. They should’ve had a ceremony, like the one she’d envisioned, one involving kind words, good wishes for the future and a sincere thank-you and goodbye, perhaps shaking hands.

  Not this. Not seeing each other without the trappings, but naked and vulnerable.

  “You’re having second thoughts,” he said as she tugged the sheets up, covering herself.

  She couldn’t let him think that. It would only make things worse. “I’m cold. And kind of hungry. Are you?” She’d hardly been able to eat all day, between trying to figure out what to do about Joe and hosting the farewell party for Bitty.

  “I could eat.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “You can be honest with me, you know. No matter what.”

  No, she couldn’t. She’d already accepted the fact she loved him, would always love him. No good would come from her telling him that. She’d returned his ring—for good reasons—but even so, she refused to add guilt into his excitement over going out in the world and making his mark. It would be so much harder for him to go, knowing she still loved him. And he needed to go.

  “I’m fine. Really, Joe. I think I was disoriented, waking up and having you here.”

  He gave her a good, long look, then took his cue from her. “Got some peanut butter?”

  “I can do better than peanut butter sandwiches.” She climbed out of bed, grabbed her robe from a hook inside her closet door. “Your family filled my refrigerator.”

  “That was a week ago.” He pulled on his jeans and followed her to the kitchen.

  “You don’t understand. They filled my refrigerator, freezer and all. I’ve got enough to live on for a month. Want some pot roast?”

  “Mom’s pot roast?”

  She could almost hear him salivating. “None other. It won’t take long to heat it up.”

  “The place looks good,” he said, wandering around the living room. He picked up small items, some he would recognize, some new. She hadn’t put up any photos yet, still debating about which ones. “Shana told me you had her refinishing furniture for you.”

  “Busy work.” She slid the food container in the microwave and entered three minutes. “I gave her some money, and then was pleasantly surprised that she wanted to work it off.”

  “She’s got pride, like everyone else.” He leaned his elbows on the breakfast bar, watching her. “And dreams for herself and her daughter.”

  “I see that now, but then I thought she’d be the old Shana, the one who was selfish and self-centered.”

  “Maybe having a baby cured her.”

  “Good point.”

  “You still don’t trust her.”

  She leaned across from him. “Not completely. I wish I could, but a part of me thinks she’ll take off again. Depends on how Mom and Dad deal with it, probably.”

  “You can’t stop her, if that’s what she wants to do.”

  “I can try.” She smiled, taking the sting out of the words. “She’s my family. I want to know my niece. And, selfishly, I want to know they’re both doing all right.”

  “She’ll have to find work that pays enough to allow her to live independently. Hard to do without marketable skills, plus there’s the issue of child care.”

  “That would be the case wherever she goes, though. At least here, she would have me. She needs me.”

  Joe didn’t respond before the timer beeped. She pulled out the container, started to serve it up onto plates.

  Joe stopped her. “Let’s just eat out of the dish.”

  “Spoken like a true bachelor.” Dixie clamped her mouth shut. What a stupid thing to say. Idiotic.

  “Guilty. Come on. Just grab a couple of forks, and let’s sit at the table.”

  They ate in silence for a minute, then he said, “I’m going to butt in here, Dix. You want Shana to need you. That’s your M.O. You like being needed. I know it’s hard, but you have to leave her alone. Let her make her own decisions. Even though you could make her life easier, resist, at least beyond survival basics, anyway. She’ll thank you for it later. I get the feeling she’s lived a pretty carefree life all these years. It’s time.”

  It’s time. The phrase echoed, having become common in Dixie’s life. Nana Mae had said it. So had Joe. So had she, for that matter.

  “I don’t mean to tell you what to—” he began.

  “No. No, it’s fine. I was just thinking about what you said. I know you’re right. It’s just…”

  “Hard for you.”

  She nodded, stabbed a carrot, but didn’t eat it.

  He curved a hand over hers and squeezed.

  “I’m trying to change,” she said.

  “Not too much, I hope.”

  She almost said, “You, either,” then stopped herself. She wanted him to be happy and fulfilled. If that required change, then okay.

  That was the danger in knowing each other so well—change could be threatening.

  “So, what was the reaction to your haircut?” she asked, needing to take the conversation down a different path.

  “Shock. Laughter. Jabs. But mostly compliments. And everyone wanted to know who cut it.”

  “Did you tell them?”

  “I changed the subject.”

  “So…everyone will guess it’s me.”

  “Does it matter?”

  She considered it. “I guess not. In fact, probably not at all. It will go a long way toward everyone thinking we’ve managed to end up with a friendship. They’ll all feel less uncomfortable.”

  He picked up the food container and set it in the sink to soak. Dixie slid their chairs back in place. Suddenly Joe was there, behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She made herself relax, leaning against him, resting her arms on his.

  “Could I interest you in a shower?” he asked, close to her ear.

  “You could.” She turned around and snuggled into him, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath her cheek, and the sturdiness of his athletic body. “We should probably figure out what time you should leave,” she said. “Set the alarm clock. Just in case.”

  He rubbed his chin against her hair. “Five? Not too many cars on the road at that time.”

  “Okay.” It was hours from now, but it wasn’t enough.

  “I still can�
�t believe I’m here, Dix. It was a good idea to do this. It’s helped.”

  Until tomorrow morning, she thought. They wouldn’t really know until then whether this was a good or bad move.

  But she would stick to her new plan to send him off with a kiss, a smile and a firm goodbye, because that was the point tonight. To say goodbye. To free each other.

  Because it was time.

  Dixie put on her slippers at five the next morning, completely aware of Joe waiting for her by the bedroom door. They’d slept now and then, brief snatches so that they could keep going, but she couldn’t remember making love so many times in so many different ways before, not in one night. Sometimes tenderness had prevailed, sometimes it was intense and wild. Pleasing and satisfying—those were the unspoken rules, and they were followed.

  He looked as serious now as she felt. He held out a hand to her. She took it, and they left the bedroom together. In silence they made their way downstairs and to the back door.

  They faced each other, held hands. “Thank you,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “Dix—” He stopped, seeming to struggle. “I feel…forgiven. I didn’t know I needed to feel that.”

  Heat flared in her, the flames traveling head to toe, limb to limb, making her weak. She leaned into him. She thought she’d been prepared for this moment. Then he went and piled on feelings she hadn’t known she’d had.

  “I wasn’t going to cry. I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry.” Her shoulders heaved, her voice shook. She could barely speak. “I didn’t know I needed to forgive you until you said that. I didn’t know I was carrying that around.”

  She felt him shaking, too.

  “Live well, Joey,” she said finally, pushing away from him. “Go forth and conquer. And have fun, too. You’ve worked so hard for so long.”

  He cupped her face, wiped her tears away and kissed her, softly, gently, until she wasn’t sure she could bear it any longer. Then without a word, he left.

  He was supposed to say goodbye. That was the point. So was she.

  Neither of them had.

  Chapter Twelve

  “That’s it. Get out. We’re done.” Dixie turned her back on the man she’d hired as her contractor. He’d finally come to her shop after she’d left him messages for three days.

  “You can’t just up and fire me, little lady,” Bruno Manning said, puffing up his chest. “We got a contract.”

  “Which you’ve already broken. You were supposed to have secured the permits and started demolition on Monday. It’s now Wednesday. Night. I’ve been working in the mobile RV when I didn’t have to. I cleaned out the shop when I could’ve been working inside here, in comfort.”

  She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I made sure I had an escape clause, because I’d heard you didn’t always stick to the schedule. Page two, paragraph four. Read it.”

  Dixie grabbed a broom. She couldn’t even look at him, she was so angry. She shouldn’t be having to boss around a man old enough to be her father.

  “I told you,” Bruno said, towering over her, his size alone intimidating. “There were some problems. I couldn’t get no one to issue the permits. We can’t start till we do.”

  “You haven’t even applied for the permits. I checked. So now you’re lying to me, too.” She’d been so determined to be independent, to prove her competence without help from any McCoy or even Kincaid. Now, right out of the gate, she was failing.

  “You have nothing to say to that?” she asked Bruno. “I should’ve listened to those people—and there were many of them—who advised me against using you. So, now I’m going to listen to myself and get out while I can, because I can picture us having this same argument into spring. I’ve got a business plan, Bruno. You knew that. Most things depend on something else getting done on schedule.”

  He scoffed. “Hardly any renovation gets done ’xactly on schedule.”

  She knew that was true, but she didn’t want to deal with him and his condescending tone a second longer.

  “Maybe not. But they should start on time. Go away.” She just wanted him gone.

  “You can’t tell me—” He stopped, tugged his ball cap down so far she couldn’t see his eyes. “You ain’t heard the last of this, little lady.” He yanked open the door and stormed out.

  “And don’t call me little lady!” she shouted, raising a fist.

  Someone started clapping. She whirled around. Kincaid stood there, a rare grin on his face.

  Dixie felt her face heating. She started attacking nonexistent dirt with her broom. “I didn’t hear you come in. I suppose that’s why Bruno left. I had backup, even though I didn’t know it.”

  “I’d say he left because of you, tiger.” Kincaid gently tugged the broom from her and set it aside. “Sit down, Dixie. Relax for a minute. Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got bottled water in my car.”

  “I’m too upset.” She was glad he’d stopped by, after all. He was…soothing, she decided.

  He sat in the chair next to hers.

  She managed a smile. “I was sort of tigerlike, wasn’t I?”

  He rested his elbows on the chair arms, completely at ease. “Saber-toothed, I’d say.”

  “But that would make me extinct.”

  He laughed. She thought it was the first time she’d heard it.

  “Well, you’re rare, anyway,” he said. “So. I didn’t hear the whole confrontation, just the parting shots. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m pretty sure I can break the contract, but I need to check with Laura.”

  “I can look at it, if you want. Or not,” he added quickly, apparently seeing hesitation in her eyes.

  “Laura drew it up, but thanks.” She sighed. “I thought Bruno would come through for me. I’d heard the rumors about him, but I’ve known him all my life. He’s done business with my parents forever. I figured he’d want to do right by me. And he does do very good work.”

  “He does. He doesn’t skimp or cut corners. In that sense, he’s a very good choice for anyone.”

  “Maybe anyone with patience.” Which was in short supply these days for her.

  “Here’s a proposition for you,” Kincaid said. “If you can get out of the contract, I’ll take on the job at whatever he bid it for. And I’ll guarantee it will be done on the date you specified.”

  “A smart man—one who’d made a certain bet with me—would delay it by at least one day.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I figure you might be appreciative enough of me stepping in during your time of need that you might give me free haircuts for a year, anyway.”

  “Kincaid, I would happily and gratefully give you free haircuts for life.”

  Something in him changed, his gaze turned… speculative, more intense, his laser-blue eyes direct.

  “How about this?” he asked. “If I finish ahead of schedule, I still get free haircuts for a year. If I’m late, I’ll throw in the new sign.”

  “That should make it fun.” She didn’t know how comfortable she was going to be, having him underfoot all the time. She could end up with problems bigger than the ones with Bruno. “I’ll check with Laura and give you a call.”

  He didn’t answer, but looked past her, then hopped out of the chair and went to the front door, opening it for Aggie, who pushed Emma’s stroller inside.

  “Thank you,” Aggie said as she passed by Kincaid. “The snuggle-bunny here wanted to see her auntie.”

  Dixie laughed. “Did she say that? Are you talking now, sweet pea?” she asked her tiny niece after drawing back her quilt and getting a huge smile that melted Dixie’s heart. She scooped Emma out of the stroller and touched noses with her.

  “I need to get going,” Kincaid said. “We’ll talk later?”

  “As soon as I have answers.” She walked up to him. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “Nice to see you, Aggie. Goodbye, Emma,” he said formally, as if unsure how to talk to a baby. “Her eyes are as green as you
rs,” he said to Dixie. “Beautiful.”

  With a final look, he left. Aggie was uncharacteristically silent.

  After a minute, she came up behind Dixie. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said.

  “You didn’t. We were talking business, but we were done.” She bounced Emma, not wanting to turn around and face Aggie. Dixie had nothing to hide from Joe’s mother—nothing was going on with Kincaid—and yet she felt guilty.

  “Is that where your heart is leaning now?” Aggie asked.

  Dixie shook her head. My heart is taken. “He’s my landlord.”

  “You need to be careful there, Dixie. For his sake,” she added, as Dixie turned around, ready to remind Aggie that she was a free agent.

  “I haven’t led him on,” Dixie said instead.

  “Maybe not consciously.”

  Great. So now she had to be aware of everything she did unconsciously?

  Aggie smiled and patted her cheek, then Emma’s, in exactly the same way.

  “I’m supposed to be moving on,” Dixie said.

  “Did I say otherwise? You know what it feels like to get hurt. You don’t want Kincaid to go through that, do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  Aggie nodded, as if that said everything. “Joe’s staying up north longer than he expected. He decided to do the approaching instead of waiting to be approached. He’s got appointments into next week.”

  “That’s great.” Moving on. Emma put both hands against Dixie’s mouth and giggled. The desire to have her own baby hit Dixie like a lightning bolt. Maybe she’d been wrong when she’d told Shana her clock wasn’t ticking. Maybe she’d just kept hitting the snooze button without realizing it, without hearing the alarm ring.

  “Would you prefer I not talk about Joe?” Aggie asked, rubbing Emma’s back.

  Good question. She hated not knowing what he was doing, hearing it secondhand, but… “I still care about him, Aggie. I want to know how he’s doing.”

  “Even if he’s dating someone?”

  “Is he?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

  Aggie clamped a hand on Dixie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was trying to gauge how much you wanted to know so that I don’t tell you too much. That was dumb of me. I didn’t mean to panic you.”