New Leaf

by Catherine Anderson

  “Sugar Pine. My folks live farther east, closer to Mystic Creek Elementary School. Jeb lives on Huckleberry. Ben’s place is out on Natural Bridge Road. My sisters rent a house together on the south side of Mystic Creek across from the cemetery.”

  “Spooky.”

  “Nah. Dead people are perfect neighbors. They never bother you, and they don’t throw wild parties late at night.”

  Taffeta took Barney’s lead and scraped the soles of her shoes clean on the bristly outdoor mat before following him into the kitchen. It seemed gigantic to her after making do with a cooking area not much larger than a closet.

  She couldn’t resist asking, “Did someone make you some homemade bread?”

  “Yep. Me.” He gave her a wink. “Are you hungry? I can slather some softened butter on a slice.”

  Taffeta still felt full from dinner. “Oh no, thank you.” Then, unable to conceal her surprise, she added, “You actually make your own bread? Let me guess; you use a bread machine and mixes.”

  He settled his hands on his hips. “No, I make it from scratch. My dad doesn’t believe in raising sons who can’t cook. Or do other domestic things. Even in the age of permanent press, I had to learn to iron. At twelve, I felt abused because he made me do girl stuff. Now I realize that there’s no such thing as girl stuff. It’s all necessary stuff, and I’m darned glad he made me learn. If I eat out of a can, it’s because I choose to, not because I can’t put a great meal together.”

  “Do you enjoy it? Cooking and baking, I mean.”

  “I do. When I have the time, anyway. At first, I stuck with the basics. Now I like to watch cooking shows and be a little more adventurous. Right now I’m trying to perfect homemade sourdough.”

  Taffeta tried to picture him cooking. He emanated strength and masculinity, and in her experience, big, strong men didn’t often stand over a stove. For lack of anything better to say, she observed, “Your barn-plank floors are gorgeous.”

  He doffed the hay-covered jacket and hung the one he’d lent Taffeta beside it on the coat tree. “I almost went on the cheap and got a look-alike laminate, but Jeb pitched a fit. He does fine woodworking for a living, and to him, nothing compares to the real thing. These planks cost me a small fortune.”

  “Reclaimed wood isn’t cheap,” she agreed. “But it is beautiful.”

  He stepped to the stainless steel side-by-side. “Want a beer?”

  “Why not? Maybe it’ll help me fall asleep.”

  They sat across from each other at the small kitchen table. It was round and looked like oak. As she sipped the ale, she searched for something to say. Nothing came to mind, and Barney didn’t broach a subject, either. Silence. For a moment, Taffeta had an urge to fill the air between them with nervous chatter, but then she decided that she had spent enough time with Barney to feel comfortable with a lull in conversation.

  The beer relaxed her. Barney put her empty in a recycling tub in the pantry and walked with her to the bedroom to make sure she had fresh towels and washcloths in the bath.

  After seeing to her needs and bidding her good night, he lingered in the doorway for a moment. She could have sworn that electricity snapped in the air between them. His gaze locked with hers, and she sensed that he wanted to say something. But he spun away without speaking. Listening to the sound of his footsteps recede to the far end of the hall, she closed the door and prepared for bed.

  Once she had snuggled down under the quilt and an underlying fleece blanket, she stared into the darkness. Sleep eluded her. She wondered if Barney had already nodded off, but somehow she doubted it. Had she imagined that a strong attraction sizzled between them?

  She finally drifted to sleep, remembering how wonderful it had felt to be in his arms on the dance floor. Perfect was the only word she could think of to describe it, and she wished that the next time he held her like that, he wouldn’t do it only because they were dancing.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning came early for Taffeta. She dug in the cardboard box for her robe, quickly ran a brush through her hair, and walked to the kitchen, where she found Barney standing at the sink and wearing only sweatpants. Bare from the waist up, he was putting on a pot of coffee, and his tawny hair stood up in tufts atop his head.

  “Oops,” he said. “You caught me. I wanted to get the java on for you before I showered.”

  Taffeta’s tongue felt as if it had stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’d thought that the burnished tone of his face had come from exposure to sunlight, but his upper body was the same color, reminding her of melted caramel. She’d known he was muscular. Even when he was fully clothed, she had seen evidence of that in his shoulders and arms. But the picture that had formed in her mind of his bare torso didn’t compare to the reality.

  He flipped on the coffee machine and turned to catch her staring. Taffeta couldn’t look away. His broad chest sported a furring of golden hair that tapered to his waist like an arrow, drawing her gaze to his well-defined abdominal muscles. He was, without a doubt, the most sculptured specimen of manhood that she’d ever seen.

  “Sorry,” he said, his voice sounding oddly thick. “I, um—I’ll go shower and get dressed.”

  Taffeta didn’t allow herself to watch him leave the room. She’d come in for a drink of water. After this, she’d keep a glass in the bath that adjoined her room so she wouldn’t catch him by surprise again. Seeing him half-dressed had left her feeling breathless and a little dizzy. Not good. She had gaped at him. Gaped. She wasn’t a teenage girl, so why on earth had she behaved like one?

  • • •

  Barney stepped into the shower, letting the stream of warm water pour over him. He leaned his forehead against the tiled wall, squeezed his eyes closed, and cursed. No sex. Why had he ever suggested such a stupid arrangement? She was hot for him. He’d seen it in her eyes. And, dammit, he was equally attracted to her. How in the hell could they live together without acting upon that desire?

  Barney had no idea. He remembered hoping that she would never parade around in front of him half-dressed. And then what had he done but do it himself the very first morning? Great move, Sterling.

  After exiting the shower, he dried off and put on his uniform. Taffeta hadn’t driven her car out here last night, so he’d have to take her to the shop. He saw no point in wearing civilian clothes into town and then coming all the way back home to dress for work.

  He found Taffeta at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee. She had skimmed her wet hair back into a knot again. She wore not a trace of makeup. And, to top it off, she had thrown on a drab green blouse that was at least two sizes too large for her. He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything.

  “I’m more comfortable dressed this way,” she said, as if he’d criticized her choice of attire out loud.

  Barney almost told her that the plain Jane look wouldn’t work when he took her out on the town that evening, but he decided to address that problem when he got to it. Instead he poured himself a cup of coffee. As he took his first sip, he gazed out the window over the sink at his horses. Sunlight pooled on their backs. It promised to be a nice day, not summertime warm, for sure, but pleasant. He wondered if Anne would be in a foul mood because she’d be trapped inside until six and miss most of the springlike weather.

  He glanced at his watch and turned from the sink. “If I’m going to get you to the shop by eight, we’d better get cracking.”

  She pushed up from the chair and moved past him to rinse out her cup. She smelled faintly of roses, and he wanted to lean in closer to get a stronger whiff.

  “Thanks for making the coffee,” she said as she put her mug in the dishwasher. “I had time to drink more than you did.”

  He almost said that she cleaned up faster than any female he’d ever known, but he swallowed back the comment. It wouldn’t have been intended as a compliment, and he didn’t want to sta
rt the day by taking shots at her.

  • • •

  Taffeta expected Barney to just drop her off at the store, but he parked out front and walked down the street to the Jake ’n’ Bake. When he returned minutes later with flavored coffees and pastry, she couldn’t help laughing.

  “I’ll grow as big as a barn if I do this with you every morning,” she said.

  “Nah. With the weather turning, we’ll exercise any extra pounds off you. Riding horses will be a good workout. And if you don’t like to jog, there are plenty of places to walk at my place.”

  He came behind the counter with her. “How do I set up your till?” he asked.

  Taffeta opened the safe and got out the money bag she’d prepared on Friday at closing. She showed him where the bill denominations went and then how to sort the change. “You’ll be working your own shift today, Barney. You needn’t stay here to help me.”

  “We’re newlyweds. I think a man who’s head over heels in love with his wife would stay with her as long as possible. Besides, I like learning new things. As a teenager and then later in college, I worked for my dad, no money tills involved. I’ve only seen you work with customers a few times, but I noticed that you count back the change. With digital registers that tell you how much money to hand back, that has become a lost art. Can you teach me how?”

  “It’s very easy,” she said. “Let’s say someone buys something for three dollars and sixty-six cents, and he hands you a ten. You count in your head from three sixty-six up to four dollars as you take out the change, and then you count from there up to ten with bills.” She watched as he lifted the money from the till, and then she held out her hand. “Now, starting at three sixty-six, count it back to me.”

  It made her feel good to be showing Barney how to do something. Unlike her, he had finished his education at the university, and he had acquired a wealth of job experience as well. She doubted that there were many things he didn’t know how to do.

  “Ten,” he said as he placed a five on her palm. Then he grinned, looking proud of himself. “I did it!”

  “And very well,” she assured him.

  With Barney helping, Taffeta was ready for customers in no time. They took up their usual positions at the counter to enjoy the coffee and baked goods. She frowned when the sunlight outside blinked out.

  “Oh no. I think our pretty day just went on vacation,” she said.

  He turned to look out at the street. “Damn, it’s trying to snow. That’s Mystic Creek weather for you.”

  “I didn’t move here in time to experience a whole spring last year.”

  “Welcome to my world. Do you have studded tires on your car?”

  “No. I seldom needed traction tires in Erickson.”

  “Well, if the road conditions get nasty, wait here for me to pick you up.” He glanced at the street again. “I don’t want you to go off in a ditch between here and my place.”

  Taffeta agreed to do that.

  “Where’s your car parked?” he asked.

  “Out back.” She gestured with her thumb toward the back room. “There’s a little carport out there.”

  The snow began to come down heavier. Being in the warm shop with Barney felt cozy, and she wished, not for the first time, that he didn’t have to leave. They chatted for a while about a mystery novel that he’d been reading. Before she knew it, the wall clock read five minutes until ten, and he had to go. He leaned in close, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “A brand-new husband should get a good-bye kiss from his wife.”

  “There’s nobody watching,” she pointed out.

  “To be convincing when someone is watching, we both need the practice,” he retorted. “And someone across the way could be spying on us. Come on. Lay one on me.”

  Taffeta wasn’t sure this was a good idea. She tipped her head one way, started to press her mouth to his, and then backed off. He smiled, cupped a palm over the back of her neck, and drew her in, taking control. His mouth, still sweet from the coffee, covered hers. He touched the tip of his tongue to her lips, asking her to open them. Her heart caught. Her senses reeled. And then he was tasting the inside of her mouth.

  When he lifted his head, Taffeta blinked. He lightly tweaked the end of her nose. “Not bad for a real first kiss, not bad at all.”

  Feeling dazed, she could only stare after him silently as he left her shop. He seemed unaffected by the kiss, but she had found it incredible.

  • • •

  The snow backed off and melted by late afternoon, allowing Taffeta to drive back to Barney’s in her own car, a tiny, older-model Honda that she’d bought secondhand after the divorce. It was fifteen minutes after six when she pulled up in Barney’s graveled driveway. She cut the engine and stared at the dark windows of the house. It was still light out, but knowing that the doors of the home had been left unlocked sort of spooked her. Maybe Barney could kick some ass if he surprised an intruder, but Taffeta needed a skillet as an equalizer.

  It felt silly to sit in her car, though. He’d think she was a big chicken. She decided to walk out back and visit his horses. He’d probably get home at any minute, and that way he wouldn’t know that she was nervous about entering the house.

  As she expected, she’d barely told the horses hello when she heard his truck pull up out front. She retraced her steps to meet him in front of the veranda. He studied her with the sharp gaze that always made her feel as if he missed nothing. A tawny eyebrow arched over one of his gold-flecked hazel eyes.

  “Taffy, you aren’t nervous about going inside alone, are you?”

  She almost denied it, but she tried never to lie. “It’s unlocked,” she reminded him. “Someone could be in there, and there’d be no evidence of a break-in to warn me.”

  He sighed and led the way up the steps. “All right. For as long as you’re living with me, I’ll lock up when we leave. I don’t want you to feel nervous if you get home before I do.”

  “You think I’m being silly.”

  He flashed her a grin. “Not at all. My mom insists on locking their house. When Amanda’s ex-husband was threatening her and Chloe’s safety, they even put in a security system.”

  “But you never lock your doors.”

  He opened the front portal and stood back to let her go in first. When she hesitated, he chuckled and said, “I’ll be right behind you. And I’ll lock them from now on—just for you.”

  They had no sooner gained the living room than Barney said, “Go slick up, Taffy. I’d like to take you out for dinner.”

  Taffeta had known all day that their campaign to convince the people of Mystic Creek that they were madly in love had to continue. She hurried along the hall to her room, wishing now that she had unpacked all her clothing last night. She’d have to dig for something suitable to put on.

  “If there’s a burglar back here, come if you hear me scream!” she yelled.

  After entering her room, she piled most of her clothing on her bed and then stood back to stare at the mess. She’d worn loose, drab garments and drawn her hair back into an unattractive twist for so long that it had become second nature. Dressing to look good didn’t come easily to her now.

  Barney tapped on her closed door. “You need help deciding what to wear?”

  Taffeta called, “You can come in. I’m still decent.”

  Barney poked his head into the room, saw the heap of clothing, and said, “Uh-oh. No wonder you’re having trouble. What a mess.”

  “I was tired last night and didn’t unpack.”

  He drew up beside the bed and homed in on a sassy black dress that she hadn’t worn in ages. “This will work. Where are those heels you wore that night at the restaurant?”

  “In the unopened suitcase. I used it mostly for shoes.”

  “Perfect.” He started from the room and paused in the doorway to look at her. “I
hope you’ll wear your hair down. Aim for sexy and beautiful. Don’t worry about someone recognizing you. Half the town saw you last night, so I don’t think it’s going to happen. But if it does—and it may, sooner or later—we’ll face it together. You’re no longer in hiding. Before long, you’ll be trying to get Sarah back. The moment word of that gets out, gossip will run rampant. I wouldn’t be surprised to see your face plastered on the front page of Erickson’s Sentinel Guard again.”

  At the thought, Taffeta’s stomach clenched.

  “I’m sorry. I can tell by the look on your face that you hadn’t thought about that.”

  “I don’t think I can live through it again,” she said shakily.

  “We’ll live through it together,” he promised her.

  “People can be vicious to a convicted child abuser.”

  “We’ll get through it, and I honestly don’t think anyone in Mystic Creek will act that way.”

  “Why? Do you think that people here are somehow more tolerant than those in Erickson?”

  Barney grinned. “No. But in Erickson, you weren’t married to a well-respected deputy who’ll shove it back down someone’s throat if a mean word is said to you. And in Erickson, you didn’t have parents-in-law who would jump in to defend you if they heard a slight against you. It’ll be different here. Who in this town would ever believe that I’d hook up with a child abuser?”

  Taffeta searched his expression and knew, beyond any doubt, that Barney truly would shove unkind words back down someone’s throat. Though theirs had not been a long acquaintance, she had learned that he was a man of his word.

  When she stepped out into the living room a half hour later, Barney rewarded her with an appreciative whistle. “You are a knockout in that dress!”

  Heat crept up Taffeta’s neck. They weren’t out in public yet, so surely he wasn’t playacting. Did this mean that he still found her attractive? She recalled the electricity that had snapped between them when he was visiting her shop and flirting with her—and then again last night. Then she gave herself a silent scold. That was then, and this is now. If she allowed herself to believe any of this was real, she would regret it.