A Man 0f His Word (Round-The-Clock Brides Book 4)

by Sandra Steffen

  “What’s she afraid of?” Gracie asked, obviously intrigued.

  “Loud noises, mostly.” He glanced at April. Up, down and up again.

  Cole gripped the wrench with his right hand. It kept him from grabbing Nathan Hampton by the scruff of the neck and throwing him off April’s property, a bit of an overreaction, not to mention against the law.

  “How old are your little girls?” Nathan asked.

  “They’ll be five next Thursday,” April said proudly.

  Cole remembered when she’d mentioned their upcoming birthday, but he hadn’t known the twins would turn five so soon. The bolt he was reefing on finally loosened with a loud clank nobody seemed to notice but him. Feeling surlier by the second, he removed the old blade and reached for the new one.

  “Is that your husband?” Good old Nathan had lowered his voice.

  With a shake of her head, April replied, “He’s a carpenter and a friend of my late husband’s.”

  A friend of Jay’s. Not a friend of hers. Cole deserved that.

  Etiquette dictated that he acknowledge the other man. He did so quickly, and noticed that the veterinarian’s ears seemed to have perked up considerably now that he knew April was single.

  “Is your loss recent?” he asked.

  “A little over a year ago.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said.

  Nathan’s interest intensified. If Cole recognized it from twenty feet away, she had to see it, too.

  “You were saying something about your dog?” she prompted.

  “Oh.” He shot her a hundred-watt smile. “Yes, as I was saying, animals, dogs in particular, never forget their past. She’s sometimes skittish and she’s terrified of sudden loud noises. She woke me up last night around two. Even though my backyard is fenced, I always go out with her. We were on our way back in when the storm let loose. She bolted when she heard the thunder. I don’t know how she fit between the boards in the fence. I called and called but she was gone.”

  “She still hasn’t come home?” April asked.

  Nathan shook his head, and Cole had to admit his worry seemed genuine.

  “I walked the neighborhood all night looking for her,” Nathan Hampton said. “I’ve taken her on long walks every day since we moved in. I’m hoping she finds her way back home.” He reached into his back pocket and brought out his phone. “Here’s a picture of her. Have you seen her?”

  Okay. The guy had good reason to sidle closer to April. That didn’t mean Cole had to like it. He finished tightening the nut over the new saw blade and tried not to bite through his cheek.

  “She’s an adorable dog, but I’m afraid I haven’t seen her,” April said.

  He showed the photo to Gracie and Violet next. Their eyes round, they pressed themselves to April’s side, winding their arms around her legs.

  “I’m getting a puppy for my birthday,” Violet declared.

  “What my daughter meant to say,” April intoned, “is she asked for a puppy for her birthday.”

  Nathan Hampton smiled all around and said, “I’d be happy to help with that. Meanwhile, if you see a spotted brown-and-yellow dog, would you let me know?”

  “Of course,” April said.

  He patted his chest pocket. Bringing out an embossed business card, he looked around for something to write with. Spying Cole’s carpenter’s pencil, he jogged over and said, “Mind if I borrow this, buddy?”

  Without waiting for a reply that Cole would have been hard-pressed to make, he grabbed the pencil and jotted something on the back of the small card. Offering it to April, he said, “The clinic’s phone number is on the front. My cell number is on the back. You can call me day or night.”

  Again with that hundred-watt smile.

  “Maybe after I find Roxie, you and your daughters would like to come down and meet her. She’s amazing with children.”

  April might have replied, but Cole couldn’t hear for the roaring in his ears. The veterinarian turned easily and jogged back the way he’d come, tossing Cole the pencil on his way by.

  Cole saw red. And then he saw green, the color of jealousy.

  Needing to move, he threw the old blade in the trash bin on his way toward the house. Violet and Gracie scrambled up into their seats in the SUV. “Bye, Cole!” they called in unison.

  He smiled for their sakes.

  April was helping Gracie buckle her seat belt, her back to him. She was a good mother, and a beautiful woman. A hair shy of five-five, she had an amazing body, gorgeous hair and gold-flecked eyes that were going to be impossible to forget.

  The smile she’d given the good veterinarian had been easy, unencumbered and held nothing back. She hadn’t smiled at Cole that way since Saturday night.

  It had been three days since he’d inhaled the flowery scent of her shampoo, since he’d felt her hands come to rest on his shoulders, her breath warm on his neck, since he’d held her soft curves against the hard length of his body and covered her mouth with his. Those three days felt like a lifetime ago.

  Once the girls were buckled in, April got behind the wheel. She backed carefully out of her driveway. The twins waved to him, but as far as Cole could tell, April didn’t look at him again.

  He didn’t blame her. What woman as beautiful, responsive and as kind as she was could put on a false front after telling a man she loved him and having him say thanks but no thanks?

  No one with her heart, her soul. Or her attitude.

  A part of Cole had fallen in love with her while listening to Jay’s colorful and oftentimes humorous stories of their life here in Orchard Hill. Now that he knew April personally, he realized those feelings had been but the tip of the iceberg. What he felt now was all-encompassing and so strong it had become a physical ache.

  She seemed to be nearing the final phase of her grief.

  She was ready to move on. And he didn’t know how he would bear to stand by and watch her fall in love with somebody else.

  Cole had made a silent promise to Jay when he’d stood at his grave. He’d kept that promise. He hadn’t tried to take Jay’s place. April hadn’t asked him to. She wanted something different from him. Something more.

  And yet he held back. What was wrong with him? Did he have a defect? A fatal flaw? Or was it something else? Cole had better figure it out before it was too late.

  Chapter Ten

  April wasn’t herself.

  For days she’d been wandering aimlessly through her house, vacillating between moping and snarling. Right now she was leaning toward snarling. Maybe she should shatter some plates against the wall. Or perhaps she should cut her hair. With kitchen scissors.

  But she liked her dinnerware. And her hair.

  She knew what the problem was. It rhymed with pole. As in she shouldn’t want to touch him with a ten-foot pole.

  But she did want to touch Cole. She wanted to kiss him thoroughly. She also wanted to throttle him.

  She wasn’t a violent person. It wasn’t as if she never got angry. Dragging her mattress outside and setting a match to it had pretty much proven that. But this was different. Cole hadn’t died. He was right here. In this very house.

  So close but so far away. She rolled her eyes at herself because now she was citing song lyrics. She couldn’t even mope with original style.

  Cole had been up and down the stairs and back and forth through the kitchen a hundred times these past several days. He’d coordinated subcontractors, nailed and cut and trimmed and painted. The upstairs was almost finished. The hardwood floor was down and the doors were on their hinges. Matching chandeliers fit for two young princesses were hanging from the freshly painted ceilings.

  On Monday the bathroom tile installers were coming back to grout. The bathtub, shower, vanity and commode were all already installed. The bathroom needed faucets and mirrors and towel bars an
d the bedrooms closet rods and doors and a few other odds and ends. It wouldn’t be long before the project would be finished.

  Cole would return to Rochester. And she would have no choice but to let him.

  They were running out of time for him to work through his issue. She wasn’t asking for explanations. Anyone who’d loved and lost as she had understood that things happened to people, life happened to people, and it created wounds that cut deep. Not everything needed to be dissected, placed under a microscope and then shared. Sometimes the only way to live peacefully was to release the pain, to hold it in your hand and let it float away. If Cole loved her, all she wanted, all she needed, was for him to call her name and open his arms to her. That wasn’t asking for much, and yet it was everything.

  “April?”

  “Yes?” Was that really her voice, so breathless and hopeful? So pathetic.

  Cole was at the door. She was outside. She forgot why.

  Her hair blew across her cheek. It wasn’t until she raised her hand to brush the strands away that she remembered she was holding the mail. Transferring the bills and junk mail to her other hand, she tucked her hair behind one ear and looked closely at Cole.

  He stood leaning against the doorframe, one hand holding the screen door open. There was pink paint on his pant leg, and purple on his forearm. Even paint-spattered, he had a heroic air about him.

  It occurred to her that neither of them was saying anything. Since he was the one who’d called her name, the floor was all his.

  “I didn’t see the girls inside,” he said. “Are they out here?”

  She shook her head.

  “The paint is dry. I wanted to show them their rooms.”

  “They’re not here,” she said. “They’re spending the night with their grandparents.”

  “So you have the night to yourself?” he asked.

  She nodded. Giving a little, she smiled, too. Ask me out. Ask me to stay here with you. We’ll order in. We’ll talk. Or we won’t talk. We’ll make love. We’ll make memories. We’ll begin the rest of our lives. Mentally she beamed those thoughts to him with all her might.

  He drew himself up to his full height and said, “That’s nice of them. It’ll do you good to have a night off. Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

  Obviously it was impossible to beam thoughts through that thick skull.

  “Yes,” she said.

  She gave him to the count of five, which should have been plenty of time for him to invite her out or to invite himself in. Five long seconds. And nothing.

  “I’m going out,” she said. It was possible she’d sounded slightly petulant, but so be it.

  She didn’t tell him to step aside. She didn’t say he was in her way. She didn’t hit him with anything, not even a ten-foot pole. She set her jaw, charged up the steps and ducked under the elbow with the purple paint on it. She kept going, kept putting one foot in front of the other even as she closed her eyes, because the scent of peppermint and pine boughs and crisp thin winter air came with her.

  She put the mail on the kitchen table and put away the plate, fork and glass Cole had used and washed. It was a little after four. Jim and JoAnn had been keeping the girls one evening every month since Jay died. It made Jay’s parents happy, and it was healthy for Grace and Violet to be away from her once in a while.

  At first she’d hated it, and stayed home and cried. When that got old, she’d visited friends. Sometimes they took in a movie or stayed in and talked. Tonight was going to be different.

  She’d said she was going out. And April Avery never lied. It seemed she had a phone call to make and an evening to plan.

  * * *

  Cole was pacing.

  It was only eight o’clock and already the night seemed endless.

  After folding up the drop cloths and taking care of his tools, he’d been ready to leave April’s at six, the time he always finished for the day. Normally she was in the kitchen preparing dinner with the girls then.

  Today the kitchen had been deserted.

  Hearing the click of heels in the hallway, he’d called, “I’m going, April. Do you want me to come back tomorrow or would you prefer I wait until—”

  His voice trailed away along with his train of thought, for April had entered the kitchen. Whoa. Wow.

  She’d worn casual skirts and crisp pants and even short shorts. This was the first time he’d seen her in a dress like this one. The color of honey, it flowed over her like liquid gold. The shoulders were cut away, showcasing her strong, slender arms and the delicate edges of her collarbones. Cut just low enough in the front to allow a glimpse of the top swells of her breasts, the dress hugged her waist and flared out a little over her hips, stopping just above her knees.

  “Does this look okay?” she’d asked.

  “Yes.” He’d swallowed. “You look nice. Amazing, actually.”

  “Are you sure? Because this is the fourth thing I’ve tried on. I haven’t been shopping in ages and everything I own is ugly or out of style or both.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Ugly? Out of style? Was she kidding? The color of her dress brought out the gold flecks in her eyes, which looked luminous surrounded by her thick black lashes. And the way the dress fit her—the only way she could have possibly looked better was if she slipped out of it.

  Her skin was flawless, most likely further enhanced by makeup, although she had a light touch. Her lips were shiny and the color of a ripe peach.

  His mouth had watered. His body had heated. He needed to get out of there.

  She did that thing women did with their hair, flipping it over her shoulder without touching it, sending it cascading down her back in a riot of soft five-shades-of-beautiful curls.

  “Tomorrow morning’s fine,” she’d said. At his blank expression, she continued, “Isn’t that what you asked? If you should come back tomorrow morning or Monday? Whatever you want to do, whatever you think is best is fine with me.”

  What he wanted to do and what he did were polar opposites. She’d started talking about shoes and changing into something else, and he’d left before he offered to lend a hand.

  He’d driven to the inn. And paced. He’d showered. And paced. He’d put on clean clothes and wandered down to the desk for a ghost update from Harriet Ferris. He now walked down to the river and pitched a few dozen stones in, then wandered back up to his room and ordered a pizza. He turned on the TV. Turned it off again.

  And paced some more.

  The sun was heading down; it was almost nine. It set an hour later here in Michigan than it did in upstate New York. He wondered what April was doing, who she was doing it with and if she was still wearing that dress.

  The new veterinarian had stopped over earlier today. He’d been passing out Lost Dog fliers, and gave one to April. He’d probably asked her to have dinner with him.

  Or something.

  Normally Cole had a steel stomach, so the pizza wasn’t to blame for the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried not to imagine anybody helping her out of her dress. Anybody except him.

  He looked around his comfortably furnished room and recalled Harriet’s latest ghost story. He wasn’t afraid of the ghost, if there really was one. But the thought of waiting out the endless night imagining April with some other man was enough to have him reaching for his phone and his keys.

  * * *

  April hadn’t been to Bell’s Tavern since it had reopened. Actually, she’d only ever been inside during the day, for until Ruby O’Toole, Ruby Sullivan now, had bought it last year, Lacey had lived in the small apartment above it. When Lacey’s father had owned the tavern it had been the seediest place in town.

  Other than going to a favored sports bar over by the college once in a while, Jay and April hadn’t been into the bar scene. She preferred dinner and plays or cards with fr
iends. Bell’s Tavern now had a fabulous reputation. There was live music on the weekends and dancing, billiard tournaments every Thursday and card playing in the back every day of the week. It featured locally brewed beer and drinks with names such as Dynamite, Howl at the Moon, Fountain of Youth and Kerfuffle.

  April’s Kerfuffle sat in front of her. Chelsea was drinking wine.

  April was sitting with a few close friends in a local tavern in downtown Orchard Hill, and yet she felt as if she were on another planet. She’d been out alone since Jay had died, but tonight was the first time she’d gone out as a single woman.

  Cole hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her when she’d first put on this dress. At least she knew she looked okay.

  The band tonight was a local country western group; the music was lively, the drinks were flowing and the atmosphere was jovial. It was ten o’clock, too early for her to go home.

  “Don’t look, April,” Chelsea said, “but there’s a certain guy you know over there who has a radar lock on you. News alert. He’s coming this way.”

  April’s hopes soared. She glanced up as casually as possible. “Oh,” she said, praying her disappointment wasn’t obvious. “Hello, Nathan.”

  The veterinarian smiled. He really had a nice smile. “Mind if I sit down?” he asked.

  The only empty chair at the table was adjacent to hers. He took it. April introduced him to her friends. They were all saying hello when Tiffany, their harried waitress, appeared.

  As Nathan ordered a beer on tap, Bernadette Fletcher, April’s tall, unassuming neighbor nudged April and said, “Isn’t that Cole Cavanaugh?”

  Cole was taking an empty stool at the bar. Even in faded jeans and a white collared shirt, the cuffs rolled up, he had a soldier’s air about him. Chelsea, who was wearing a little black dress and looking as pretty as always, was on her way back from the restroom. She stopped at the bar and spoke to him. He glanced over—and caught April looking. Of course he caught her. The way her luck was running she would probably spill her drink and lose a contact, too. She groaned inwardly, but since Cole already knew she was watching, she saw no reason to stop.