While You Were Speaking: Spring Flings and Engagement Rings

by Maria Hoagland

  It’s kinda big for me to schlep down there, but I will if you want people staring at me.

  She laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the empty studio.

  That is really tempting . . . She couldn’t resist teasing him back.

  Have mercy, he texted back.

  Her cheeks were burning from holding in the laughs and smiles. How big is it? Should I bring my truck?

  Not a bad idea.

  OK. See you in a few. Inn’s parking lot.

  It only took a few minutes for her to walk to her condo, grab her keys and her pickup, and find him in the parking lot of the Cornucopia Inn, dancing with a huge old-fashioned metal Coca-Cola sign like it was one of those tax preparer’s advertisements on the street corner. She couldn’t hold in her smile.

  When she pulled up next to him, she dropped her window. “I’ll take a diet.” She forced herself to keep a straight face, but he busted out a few more moves and twirled around with the sign. She let out a small laugh, but she stifled it with a follow-up request. “Unless you have Dr. Pepper.”

  “Sorry. Coke only,” he said flatly.

  She smirked at him, and he placed the sign in the bed of the pickup before coming around to the passenger side.

  “So what’s this?” She gestured to the bed of her truck.

  “A little something for the Starlight’s concession stand.” He settled into the seat and clicked the seat belt.

  “How nice.” Lucy paused briefly. “You shouldn’t have.” Though she was glad he had.

  “Wasn’t me.” Lines crinkled around his eyes that sparkled with mischievousness. “A gift from Trina and Bill. They were checking out the antique store and thought of the Starlight when they saw it.”

  A lump formed in her throat. They not only thought of her when they saw it; they bought it for her? She was touched. “Wow.”

  He didn’t allow the silence to stretch on awkwardly between them. “Should we hang it, then? Unless you think it would go better in your apartment?”

  She hardly needed to consider that one. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that went with her décor. “Definitely better at the drive-in.”

  They drove to the Starlight with WHHR playing softly in the background. When the music ended and the announcer came on, Zach leaned forward and turned it up. After only a couple of words, he turned it back down. “Not you?” He sounded disappointed.

  He’d wanted to hear her? Her chest warmed. She shook her head in answer to his question. “My show runs in the middle of the day—from 10 to 2. Hank’s got the early afternoon, and we run a syndicated show in the evenings.”

  He nodded. “Makes sense. Good thing I brought earbuds. I can be listening to you and still spend time with the family.”

  The thought of him listening to her show for the next few days brought a flush of embarrassment that hadn’t surfaced since her first year behind a microphone. With the drive-in so close to the Cornucopia, they were parked before the heat faded from her cheeks.

  “Do you happen to have a hammer?” Zach asked as they opened the pickup doors to step out.

  “Do I have a hammer?” Lucy scoffed and rolled her eyes. “What kind of person do you take me for?” She stepped out and closed the door.

  He went to the back and picked up the sign, carrying it over to the concession stand, and the whole time that Lucy concentrated on not paying attention to the definition in the muscles across his back and on his upper arms, she wondered if there would be a repeat of the difficulty with the lock. Part of her wouldn’t mind, if it meant she would need him to reach around her to help again. None of this thinking helped with her flaming cheeks, so she kept her head low while unlocking the door.

  “I’m sure I have a hammer,” she said once they were inside. Her dad had left a small but stocked toolbox at the drive-in for minor repairs. “But do I have a nail? That’s a better question.” She rummaged through a junk drawer. Amidst the assortment of pens that were probably dry, scissors with only one and a half blades, and more rubber bands than she would ever know what to do with, she found one. “Voilà!” She held it up.

  “What is that?” he asked, shocked. “That’s vampire-killing stake-sized.”

  She was unconcerned. It was all she had. “Will it hold the sign?”

  He flipped the metal sign onto its front and slipped the head of the nail under the lip. “Should work, though the damage that sucker will do to the wall . . .”

  She shrugged. “Ah, but the good news is that when the next earthquake, hurricane, or asteroid hits, the sign won’t fall and hurt someone.”

  He barked out a laugh. “There is that.” He made quick work of mounting the sign and handed back her hammer.

  She locked up, and they walked across the parking lot. In the dim light, she noticed the silhouette of her pickup being askew. “Do I have a flat?” she groaned. She turned her head, studying it. There was a definite slope. What rotten luck.

  They walked over together, and she bent down to inspect it. After a few moments, she found the culprit: a giant nail embedded in the tire. “I think I found the vampire-killing weapon’s twin.”

  “Evil twin? Vampires shouldn’t come as twins. I didn’t need that image,” he muttered, before speaking at a normal volume. “Do you have a spare tire?”

  Lucy stood and wiped her hands on her jeans. “For this old beater?” She cringed. “Sadly, no.” Since she was never far from town, she’d taken the risk. She clucked her tongue. “I guess we walk back?” She didn’t wait for his response, as this was the only logical plan of action. “The Cornucopia is that direction—” She pointed off slightly to the right, the big red barn between them and his destination. Her apartment was about forty-five degrees to the inn’s left. Between them lay the forested pond. “—and I’m that way.” She took a step toward home, waving over her shoulder. “Thank your parents for the gift, and thank you for helping me hang it.”

  “What? You’re just going to leave me here?”

  “Pretty much.” She shrugged, unconcerned with him finding his way back. He wouldn’t have any trouble. They were close—only a few blocks, really, and with as much walking as he’d done in town already, he had to know his way around. There wasn’t much to Harvest Ranch. He wouldn’t get lost.

  “But . . .” He shot a wide-eyed look at the thick woods behind screen one and pretended to chew on his fingernails. “What about the vampires?”

  “I guess we should look for more nails,” she played along. “Someone might have been leaving them like a breadcrumb trail to safety.”

  He chuckled but didn’t look down. “Let me walk you home,” he said gently.

  “It’s out of your way. I’ll be fine.”

  “You might be, but would I?” he teased.

  She shook her head in amusement.

  “Let me walk you home,” he said more seriously. “There are only so many games of checkers I can play with a five-year-old.” He tipped his chin toward Tortoise Cove. “Is there a path around the lake?”

  “There is.” She heard a grumble of thunder far off in the distance, so faint she might be mistaken. “Are you brave enough? Your direction would have streetlights; that way doesn’t,” she warned mysteriously.

  “I am if you are.”

  Another rumble in the distance had her unlocking her pickup’s door to retrieve her umbrella. “Just in case.” She held it up.

  “Good idea.” He nodded. “That pointy end could be a lifesaver. I bet it can double as a vampire stake.”

  “Maybe that was the intended purpose,” she said dryly.

  “With that color, though . . .” Like the fact that it was a delicate coral would make it less deadly.

  “Try me,” she growled, and he backed off playfully.

  They started out on the path around the pond, taking their time and enjoying the fact that no one else was around. Clouds churned overhead, and the air was fragrant with the scents of spring. Since it was a little too early in the year for crickets or
frogs, the only sounds were the gentle waves that lapped against the shore and the breeze stirring the trees.

  “You’re from Massachusetts?” She knew this but couldn’t remember the name of the town.

  “Hawthorne. It’s a small town—kind of like this, magical and quiet—northwest of Boston. Close to Concord.”

  “Like from the Revolutionary War?” That was cool. She’d always intended to go to New England someday.

  “That’s the one.”

  The wind picked up. It wasn’t strong, but it carried a few raindrops, infrequent but fat and heavy. She lifted the umbrella. “There’s always the secondary purpose.”

  His chuckle, low and comforting, sent a flurry of flutters through her insides. She loved the sound of his laugh, especially this contented one, and wanted to hear it again. She opened the umbrella and lifted it between them, but when the wind pushed it, he too grasped the umbrella handle. His hand was so large, it overlapped hers a little, and the touch of his skin sent a warmth through her.

  “A rather pedestrian use for an umbrella, but I won’t complain,” he said. His head went back as he looked at the underside of the umbrella. “That’s unexpected. Tulips?”

  She lifted her eyes, knowing what she would see, but wanting to experience it with him. The underbelly of the canopy was covered in coral tulip blossoms on a sky-blue background. It was beautiful. Every time she opened it, she remembered one of the few memories of her mother. She felt the familiar pang of loss, though she hadn’t expected it, and sniffed back the emotion.

  “What’s on your mind?” Zach’s question was tender and sincere.

  “This umbrella. Sometimes it brings the waterworks,” she joked, though it was the truth.

  “I thought it was supposed to shield you from it,” he teased. He shifted the umbrella’s weight so he was covering more of her hand. “Your hand was getting cold,” he said by way of explanation.

  Her heart skipped a beat at his touch. “My mom passed away when I was pretty young, and I don’t have many memories of her. Picking out this umbrella together is my favorite.” It had been so long since her mother’s passing, she was able to keep her tone light. “We were shopping—groceries, maybe—and I was pestering her because I wanted the ‘pinky-orange’ umbrella. She told me the color was coral, and when we opened it up, we were surprised with all the tulips. We bought it because it was my favorite color and her favorite flower.”

  “She sounds like a great mom.”

  “Thanks.”

  They walked several more steps in a comfortable silence between them, the rain falling more steadily and thumping on the nylon of the umbrella.

  Being able to share that felt so good. “Sometimes,” she said, hoping he didn’t mind if she continued, “I wonder what she’d have been like if we’d had more time together. Would she have been the mom to plan a surprise birthday party for me? Would she have let me bring all my friends over even if we ate all the food and made a lot of noise? Would she be anything like your mom—pull in strays and make them feel welcome?”

  “You’re not a stray,” Zach said, his voice soft but firm.

  Lucy answered with a smile. “You have to admit, I kind of am.” They’d come to the end of the wooded path around the pond and were back in town. This was a good place to split ways, since the inn was to the right and her apartment was in front of her. She paused on the sidewalk where their destinations diverged. “Last chance to keep from backtracking later.” She tipped her head toward the inn.

  A slight shake of his head made his choice clear. “I’ve come this far . . .”

  She took a step toward her place, and he followed.

  “You can’t be the stray if we’re the visitors.” He continued their conversation as if there’d been no pause.

  “But it’s your vacation. Your family vacation.”

  He was close enough that his shoulder bumped into hers with almost every other step, and each time, her heart jumped for joy. “Tell you what,” he said. “I know it’s nowhere near the same, but you can borrow my mom anytime you want. She’s always wanted a big, noisy family, and I know she loves having you with us.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “She might be offended if you don’t.”

  With him so close, she caught a hint of that cologne again. It smelled so good, but so faint, that all she wanted to do was lean into him. It didn’t take much to imagine him slip an arm around her waist and pull her to him.

  He really was amazing—willing to listen, easy to laugh with, and handsome enough to make her remember there was more to life than work and friends. And he came with a bonus—a pretty okay family. She sighed one of those deep, happy sighs and chuckled. It was ridiculous that she cared what the Hughes family members thought of her, but there it was. “Your mom’s great.”

  “You might have said that before.” He deliberately bumped her shoulder with his this time, and rain cascaded off the umbrella around them. “So basically, you hang out with me because of her, huh?”

  His playful question made her pause mentally and take stock. No. Not at all. She liked the whole Hughes clan, from Ezra up to Moose, for their communal friendliness but also for their individual personalities. But if Zach wasn’t part of it, would she have spent so much time with them? Not a chance.

  “You can’t possibly think that.” She laughed off his question, trying to catch a glimpse of him without being obvious. In the cloud-covered moonlight, it wasn’t easy to decipher his expression. “But if that’s the case, why do you hang out with me?” They’d made it to her apartment in too short a time. Why did Harvest Ranch have to be so small? She would have liked to spend more time with him, and she would no longer have a good excuse. “This way.” She turned sharply, but realized too late she should have given him warning.

  When she’d turned with the umbrella firmly in her grasp, he’d swung around as well, and then he’d dropped suddenly, pulling her down into a heap with him in the mud and grass. Her body had fallen in a split second, but it took a little longer for her mind to process what had just happened. She hadn’t fallen too hard—the impact was softened somewhat, as she’d fallen partly on top of Zach. Embarrassed, she looked into his eyes, her face inches from his, and found she could neither move nor look away.

  He’d asked her a question, but the only thing she could think of was how amazing he smelled, how warm his body was beneath hers, and how she felt his breathing and heartbeat under her hand on his chest.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered, his tone evidence that he’d repeated the question.

  She placed both palms on the spongy grass and pushed herself up. “I am.” She wiped her hands on her mud-caked jeans and reached forward to give him a hand up. “Are you?”

  “Yes.” He grinned wider than any mud-covered man had a right to and put his hand in hers.

  “What happened?” It had all happened so fast, and yet she wished it would happen again.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he said, still on the ground. “We were going along fine, and then all of a sudden you change directions. My foot missed the corner, and here we are.”

  He started to pull up, but she had underestimated his weight and overestimated the security of her footing. Standing in the mud patch they’d fallen in originally, she slipped, struggling to right herself before crashing into the ground again. Zach, having only made it halfway up, scrambled to catch himself. She reached out to grab his arm and pulled him up to her. In desperation, he flung his arms around her shoulders, and she steadied him.

  At first in their almost-embrace, Lucy was just trying to catch her breath, but being that close to Zach, feeling his breath, she was hyperaware of the smallest things. For the first time, she noticed the flecks of deep blue in his bright green eyes and the blond hairs mixed in with his brown stubble. As her gaze roamed from his eyes to his cheek, it was only natural to end up on his lips. She held still, afraid that she would scare him away, and wished this moment would go on forever with his arms around her.


  He too seemed reluctant to let go. After a long moment, he relaxed his grip around her shoulders, reaching out to move a lock of dripping hair from her eyes, his fingertips grazing her cheek. “You’re getting wet,” he whispered, his voice as low and rumbly as his laugh had been, and her stomach did that flip again when he dried a raindrop with his thumb.

  She held her breath, wondering, hoping, willing him to lean down and kiss her. For a moment, she felt he would. But after a couple of long, delicious seconds, he dropped his hand from her cheek and stepped back with a sigh.

  “Thanks for trying to save me,” he said. His smile was back to friendly when she’d been hoping for more.

  Her throat seemed to swell, and she could barely breathe. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to speak. “Thank you for saving me from the vampires,” she managed, assuming her joking role with him. He obviously wasn’t looking for romance, and she couldn’t blame him, considering he’d be returning to Massachusetts in a few days. But that didn’t mean it didn’t bruise her heart just a little. She’d been willing to take a chance on love, and she hadn’t felt like that in a long time. She’d forgotten how much rejection stung.

  He gave her a half grin. “I think it was the other way around. Thank you for saving me from the vampires.” Mock seriousness steamed from those green eyes. “I mean, if they haven’t gotten you yet, and you live here . . .” He lifted his hands for her to fill in the blanks. Nice of him not to criticize her. “But I’m new blood,” he boasted. “I think I was more at risk than you.”

  “Only because I had the umbrella, don’t you forget.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I know your secret weapon—” He reached down and picked it up for her. He shook it and then lifted it over her head again. “—I’m giving full credit to you and your umbrella.” He walked her to the safety of the sidewalk again and stopped. “I guess this is where we say goodbye.”

  “See you tomorrow?” She blurted the question before she stopped to think about it.

  “Of course.” He smiled back at her.

  “Would you like to borrow it?” She pushed the umbrella toward him, but he didn’t reach up and take it.