“Harper already made the apple pies.” Gram placed a gnarled hand on Harper’s shoulder.
Ellie nodded. One look at her daughter’s beaming face made the sacrifice of having to work with Fink almost worthwhile. Hopefully, Wyatt would come so she wasn’t stuck with him alone.
“I can’t wait to taste it. You can bring a couple of pieces down when they’re cool enough to cut.”
“I’ll put that away, honey. You go on.” Gram patted Ellie’s back. Ellie closed her eyes and savored the motherly touch before swiping an apple and heading out.
“Thanks.” With her sandwich in one hand and her apple in the other, she headed down to the shop. She really wanted to get there before Fink. It’d been a while since she’d been in the shed that served as their shop, and if she recalled correctly, the place was a little disorganized.
Ellie tossed the core of the apple before opening the door and stepping in, flipping on the light switch.
Disorganized might have been a bit of an understatement. Ellie stared at the pile of two-by-fours on the floor of the old shed, which were scattered in disarray because when she’d taken the forms for the corner posts for the barn down, she’d been in a hurry to get them put away. So she’d thrown them in here, thinking to stack them neatly later.
Well, it could be worse. They could have to buy two-by-fours. Which would mean a trip to town with the abominable Mr. Finkenbinder. That would be a fate worse than having her toenails plucked out with pliars and no anesthetic. Even if he was tall with broad shoulders and had a strong nose. That was all he had going for him.
She scratched her head, looking at the materials she had to work with.
What had possessed her to engage in a shouting match with the man this afternoon? Liam and she had seldom argued. Even though they’d been young, they’d never screamed at each other. And in front of the children. Honestly, she was ashamed of her behavior, and she planned to play it cool tonight. Mr. Finkenbinder was not going to ruffle her feathers.
Now, what should they make? The spare hay wagon was parked beside the lumber, and she’d assumed they could build something on it and pull it with the tractor. But what? She narrowed her eyes and tapped a finger on her lips.
Gravel crunched outside. A car motor died and shortly thereafter a door slammed shut. Drat. She’d hoped to be started so she could give the insufferable man a job and not have to discuss what to do. Too late.
Mr. Finkenbinder walked into the shop. “Good evening, Mrs. Bright.”
Ah, so apparently he’d decided to be on his best behavior too. “Good evening, Mr. Finkenbinder. I thought Wyatt might come with you.”
“He did. But I stopped at the house looking for you, and when he smelled the apple pie, his stomach overpowered his intellect.”
“Just like a man.”
“I’m here.”
Ellie bit her tongue. Oh, how she wanted to say something about him not being like a man, but it wasn’t true. Under those dress clothes, Fink was all man.
She cleared her throat. “I was just trying to figure out what to do.” Waving an arm, she indicated the lumber and the wagon. “I have all this, and of course, the tractor you used today.”
“Well, that’s great.” He lifted a brow at the mess, but didn’t comment on it. He indicated the briefcase he carried. “I did some research on the internet, and I have narrowed things down to three choices.” He brushed dust off a shelf before setting his briefcase downand pulling out papers and a pencil.
He’d narrowed down their choices? Really?
Ellie swallowed her irritation and leaned over as he spread the papers out, again catching a whiff of that surprisingly good, spicy scent unique to Fink. She took a deep breath. A sliver of awareness rippled through her body, pooling in her stomach. Odd.
“See this?” He pointed to the first one. A car with crepe paper stuck to it. “It would be easy, and still look nice.”
“Uninspired,” Ellie stated, leaning back on her heels and crossing her arms over her chest.
His mouth tightened, but he set the pencil down and drew the next picture out. A pickup with two lawn chairs for the king and queen of homecoming. Streamers flew from the antenna.
He put his finger on the picture. “I can borrow a pickup from one of the teachers—Mr. Waggoner has allowed us to use his in the past—and this one can be done in a day, too.”
“Those are lawn chairs.”
“Exactly. Simple. Most people don’t have their summer lawn furniture put away yet. It will be effortless to find two chairs to borrow. And the dance committee doubtless has a few extra streamers they can allow us to commandeer.”
“But it’s ugly. There’s no imagination in this at all.” She picked up the pencil and tapped it against the paper.
He sighed loudly. Although he gritted his teeth, he spoke calmly. “I was looking for a simple design we can construct easily. This fits the bill.”
“If the goal is to be the ugliest float at the parade, it fits the bill for sure.” She gripped her hair before slapping the pencil back down on the shelf with such force the pencil broke in two. The crack reverberated through the shed. It did little to assuage her frustration.
“Mr. Waggoner would be highly offended to hear you call his truck ugly.”
“It’s not his truck. It’s the idea of throwing a few chairs on the back and calling it a float.”
He yanked the last paper out and slapped it down. “This probably won’t suit your fancy either.”
This one was almost identical to the last—a pickup with streamers—only there was a bench under an umbrella.
“The umbrella could be any color, and I know where we can find a bench.” He cleared his throat, pasting on a semblance of his professional demeanor.
She wasn’t fooled. He was cranked. Well, so be it. If she was going to do a float, she wanted it to be done right.
“If you want me to do this, it’s going to be something good. Not something we slap together because it’s easy and fast.” She shook her head and smacked her hand next to the paper.
“If you want my help, it’s going to be easy and fast.”
“I don’t recall asking you to help.”
“If I want the thing done on time, and I do, I’m going to be here helping.” He clenched his fists, and a muscle along his jaw popped in and out.
“So now I’m irresponsible?” Despite the truth in his words, her eyes widened and her voice went up a notch. How dare he? She ran a business practically by herself and because of that, she occasionally didn’t get her daughter to school on time. There was no reason for Fink to be so condescending.
“Isn’t that how you got selected as a volunteer to do this in the first place? By being late to school so often, I had no choice but to apply consequences?” His volume exceeded hers.
“You have no idea what it’s like to be a parent, or anything else about my life. I resent your judgment.” She powered toward him. Like a bulldozer. Her vision lasered in, focusing on him. The urge to touch him, to grab hold of him, almost overwhelmed her.
“Everyone else in the entire school can make it on time. You’re the only one who comes in late. And you’re the only who doesn’t comb her hair, change out of her nightclothes, or brush her teeth.” He didn’t back away. Instead, he leaned down, bring them face-to-face.
His words stung. Sometimes she probably did look frightful when she rushed into the school. Another thing to work on. Still, it wasn’t like she valued Fink’s opinion. She gritted her teeth against the lip that wanted to tremble and swallowed to ease the pricking sensation in the back of her throat. Channeling anger and disdain to smother any hurt feelings, she gritted out, “You are despicable.”
“You are irresponsible.”
“And you’re a judgmental jerk.” She kicked the last board laying on the floor between them out of her way. Pain, sharp and strangely satisfying, shot up her leg.
“Then, since I’m such a jerk, you shouldn’t want to spend any mor
e time with me than necessary.” The paper crinkled as he fisted his hand around it. He threw it toward his briefcase.
“I don’t,” she shouted.
“Then building something easy and fast should work for you,” he shouted back.
“It doesn’t.” Her pulse pounded in her temple, fogging her brain with pressure. She could barely see through the red haze clouding her vision.
“You drive me crazy.”
“You’d have to go a hundred miles an hour in reverse to get back to crazy.”
“No. All I’d have to do is spend five more minutes with you.” He stuck a finger in her face emphasizing the you.
“Fine. Leave. I’ll do the float myself.” She threw an arm out and pointed at the door as though the force of the swing alone could propel him through it. She’d rather work nonstop for the next five days than spend one more minute with him, no matter the shape of his nose.
“And it might be done in time for graduation.” Two veins stood out on either side of his temple. He widened his stance like a football player waiting for the snap.
He didn’t scare her. She hit his finger with hers, knocking it out of the way and pointing hers right at his nose. “Then do it yourself.”
His chest puffed out. “I will. And Harper can spend the next two weeks in after-school detention.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t.” Her chest burned like a volcano about to erupt. It was all she could do to keep from grabbing him. Some of the things he’d said about her might be a little bit true, but Harper shouldn’t have to suffer just because her mother couldn’t hold it all together.
“Yes, I would.” He jutted his chin out. She could almost see smoke coming from his nostrils.
“Harper is a perfect student.”
“Yes. It’s her mother that’s the irresponsible slacker.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re a child.”
“I’ll do the float myself. Get out,” she screamed.
“Gladly.” He knocked her finger away from his face, grabbed her shoulders, and covered her mouth with his.
Chapter Five
Ellie tensed. Her eyes popped open. Her heart stuttered to a stop, then did a flip and started beating double time.
Her chest tingled, and she buried her hands in his hair. Thick, wavy hair. Perfect.
Had she kissed a man since Liam died? She hadn’t even considered dating with Harper at home. She didn’t remember it feeling this good. She pushed closer.
His fingers ran down her back.
Goose bumps broke out on her skin. She closed her eyes, sliding her hands around his waist, which felt surprisingly hard under her fingertips.
He groaned and pulled her closer.
His tongue touched her lip. Like a flame touching a can of gasoline. Her mouth opened and she drew his tongue in. Fireworks exploded in her brain. Bright red. Heat shot through her body, scorching through her skin. Her fingers clawed his back. Her hand slipped back to his head, gripping and pulling him closer.
He cupped her hips and pulled her to him. She complied, allowing him to lift her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Totally lost in a passion-draped world that included only Fink and her and the combustive sensations that fused in an intoxicating riot.
“Mom?”
Startled, she pushed away.
He dropped her like forbidden fruit. Her feet tangled together and her butt hit the floor with a thunk.
Fink took two steps back. He leaned against the metal wall, his hands behind him, as though somehow proclaiming his innocence.
From her position on the dirt floor, she glanced up at Harper, whose brows reached her hairline. Wyatt stood behind her, his jaw agape, blinking slowly as though trying to get the images in front of him to return to normal.
“Um, we thought we heard shouting in here.” Harper tilted her head.
“Yeah. After what happened earlier, we thought you two might need a referee and a time-out, but…”
“I think they still need a referee and a time-out. Just not in the way we thought.” Harper tapped her upper lip.
“No,” they both blurted out.
Ellie shot Fink a quelling glance and scrambled to her feet. “That wasn’t what you thought it was. I mean, it wasn’t what it looked like.”
Fink cleared his throat. “We were looking at pictures and deciding on a design for the float.”
“It’s not that kind of parade.” Harper wrinkled her nose at Fink.
“Of course not. I mean, everything is child-friendly.” Ellie couldn’t remember Fink ever looking less than professional, but his hair was mussed, his clothing askew, his face flushed. His gaze darted around, looking anywhere but her, and his professional poise had possibly run off with her self-control.
“My mother had her legs wrapped around your waist. I don’t think that’s appropriate for preschoolers.”
“Maybe you guys could just do, like, chairs arranged so that people aren’t sitting on each other’s laps and stuff. Where I come from, if we do a movie theme or something for school, we don’t usually do the love scene. Especially in a parade.” Wyatt shrugged.
“Um, so did you guys come down to help?” Ellie said, changing the subject, since Fink’s uninspired comments hadn’t helped. Not that she’d added much. Her heart still hammered and her lips throbbed. She could taste Fink on her tongue. Intriguing, and she hadn’t even begun to satisfy her curiosity. But she didn’t even like him. Why had he kissed her? Why had she allowed it? And, holy cow, why had she enjoyed it so darn much?
“I have that test to study for, but I think I’d better stay.” Harper started to walk farther into the shed.
“No.” Ellie put her hand up. Harper was a great student and got excellent grades. She didn’t want anything to jeopardize it. “We’re fine.” But she didn’t want to be alone with Fink. “Wyatt can stay.”
“I hadn’t gotten a piece of apple pie yet.”
No matter how desperate she was to not be alone with Fink again, a part of her heart went out to this boy with no parents. She glanced a Fink. His face had softened.
“Go ahead and get pie, Wyatt. We’ll handle this,” she said.
Fink avoided her gaze.
“Okaaay.” Harper gave her a hard stare. “Mom, you do remember how you got me, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, I’ve always wanted a brother or sister, but I didn’t expect you to leap—” She waved her hand, at a loss for words.
“—onto the first principal you see,” Wyatt finished for her.
Ellie was half horrified, half temped to laugh. Wyatt might be a senior in high school, and over six feet, but he was as cute as a kindergartener with both front teeth missing.
She put her hands on her hips. “I am not taking all the blame for that.”
“Mr. Finkenbinder would never do anything inappropriate.”
“And I would? I’m your mother. How can you say that?”
“Mom.” One side of Harper’s mouth curled up in a half smile. “You do have a tendency to be impulsive…”
Ellie wanted to defend herself. But she understood what Harper was saying. Although she didn’t feel like she deserved it, when one looked at Mr. Never-a-Wrong-Move Finkenbinder versus herself, she was the one most likely to be inappropriate.
Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, she said, “Go on back to the house. Study for your test. You too, Wyatt. I’m a big girl. And whether I grab the first principal I see or not, I’ll face the consequences.” She turned to Fink. “And if you’re afraid for your virtue, you can go too. I’ll have this done by Saturday morning.”
“I’ll stay.” His face held no expression.
After one last glance, Harper said, “Come get me if you need me, Mom.” She followed Wyatt out the door.
Say something, you coward.
But Fink’s mouth wouldn’t open. He hadn’t been able to come forward to defend Mrs. Bright thirty seconds ago, and he couldn’
t think of anything to say after the door closed behind Harper and Wyatt.
He had kissed Mrs. Bright.
His fingers itched to reach for her. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
The kiss. It had been…phenomenal. Earthshaking. All-encompassing. He hadn’t wanted it to end. Not ever—what was wrong with him?
He couldn’t have actually enjoyed kissing Mrs. Bright.
Heck, yeah. He had.
He wanted to do it again. Part of him was disgusted by that thought. Another part wanted more, maybe wanted to see how far her bad reputation would take her.
With him? Not far, he’d wager.
But all he had to do was remind himself of the superintendent position. The prestige he’d always wanted. The academic jewel. Quite an accomplishment, especially as young as he was. He’d worked too hard, and he wanted—no, needed—the vindication. He could, and would, control himself.
Shaking his head, Fink made sure his face showed nothing of his inner turmoil as Ell…er, Mrs. Bright, paced beside the wagon.
“So…the theme for homecoming is Harvest Moon. We ought to have a big moon, maybe somehow shine a light, and maybe have cardboard cutouts of a boy and a girl that could cast a romantic shadow on the moon.” Mrs. Bright stood with arms akimbo in front of the old wagon. Keeping her eyes on it, she walked along, as though picturing it all in her imagination. “Then, of course, I can provide the usual fall decorations, and since the parade is the National Farmers’ Day Parade, we should also have a tribute to farmers. And we should definitely have scaffolding, to have the king and queen up off the floor of the wagon, where everyone can see them—they could do the shadows on the moon. No, that won’t work, because they need to wave. And toss candy.”
Mrs. Bright continued rattling on. Fine. She was going to ignore the kiss. And the argument. That was fine. He’d keep his mouth shut and help her so they could get this thing done by Saturday.
He let her talk and plan. When she started grabbing two-by-fours, he helped her carry them. When she picked up the bag of tools, he carried it to the bench for her. For over three hours he carried and sawed, hammered and screwed. Their conversation was minimal. Pass the hammer. Measure thirty-six inches.
Harvest Moon Homecoming Page 4