Instructions for Love

by June Shaw

  People at other tables had left by the time he finished his meal. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and peered across at Erin, sitting still. “You’re not finished? You left half your food. I thought you liked it.”

  “Love it,” she said, pressing a hand to her stomach. “But my jeans will pop if I stuff myself with any more.”

  “That would be interesting,” he said, leaving a large tip on the table.

  The suggestion of his words played through Erin’s mind.

  They headed out, and Dane stopped to pay the cashier.

  “Bye. Y’all come back tomorrow,” T-Fred called across the room. “No, that’s right. Y’all caught your own fish.” Her suggestive tone hinted of something between them.

  Dane’s eyes flashed anger.

  Erin’s stomach clenched. He shoved the door open, letting her go out, and trailed behind to the truck. She considered what she might say, but nothing seemed right. She didn’t want the people who lived in the community believing Dane had any romantic ties to her either. She had thought of saying that to him, but his mouth kept a grim set. No one really said what she was thinking. Besides, she didn’t believe he’d want conversation, even if it was to confirm his own annoyed feelings. They spent the ride back to the plantation in silence.

  At the house she trotted inside before him, heading for the dining room.

  “I need to get to work,” he said when he entered.

  She glanced at the phone on its small table. “Is there an answering machine anywhere?”

  “When I’m here and I answer the phone, people can talk to me.” His rigid body language still spoke, assuring her he didn’t expect to be close to her again.

  For a reason she couldn’t fathom, that unspoken message hurt. She tried to shake off the feeling, meeting his cold stature with her own. “How about Caller I.D.? Or do they even have that down here?”

  He responded with a bitter stare. “We have everything down here that’s worthwhile.”

  A moment passed while they regarded each other as enemies.

  Dane took a breath. “Were you expecting a call from someone special?”

  She shoved her hands on her hips. “For someone who oversees the plantation, you certainly put your nose in everyone else’s business.” The second the words were out, she regretted them. This man didn’t need to be put down. No one did. She couldn’t imagine what had brought out this emotional upheaval.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, watching the sadness that gripped his eyes. “I guess I’m just exhausted. I’m not used to getting up so early and then fishing and watching alligators.” She gave him a small smile that she hoped he’d return.

  Dane didn’t. He remained grimfaced and turned away. “Call anybody you want.” He stalked across the room. “I’ll be out with the other workers in the fields.”

  Regret sped through Erin, making her wish they could start their conversation over. She never spoke to anyone like she just did to him. Why had she snapped and said such a hurtful thing? Was it because he’d asked who she wanted to call—suggesting, as he had before, that she and Trevor were an item? There was no way.

  She crossed the room, shaking her head at herself. Maybe the steamy heat of the climate, or possibly exhaustion had made her act so caustically. Whatever it was, she needed to get over it immediately and apologize.

  She heard a door slam, and his truck roared to life. Dane’s tires squealed as he sped off.

  Erin sank back. She gazed through a window. Seeing only her rental car in the driveway left her with an inexplicable feeling of emptiness. She wished he was back here again, smiling and trading quips as they had done in the boat.

  What was going on with them, she wondered. The time they’d shared in the bayous and swamp had been mystical, having swept her up into another life, a life that wasn’t hers. It had only been a mini-vacation, taking her into exotic surroundings she had only seen hinted at in stories. But the fauna and flora of Dane’s outdoor world had swept into her, and she appreciated his taking her out into that wonderland, with its enchanting creatures.

  “But back to real life,” she told herself, sitting down at the telephone. She had to take care of one more detail so she could carry out her aunt’s wishes.

  Asking the operator to bill her home phone, she waited while the call was cleared and then her boss picked up. “Hello, Trevor,” she said. He didn’t like informal chit-chat, so without ado, she said what she needed to. “I know I was supposed to be back there tomorrow, but something came up. I need to stay down here until day after tomorrow. I’m sure y’all won’t mind.” She enjoyed saying y’all, the word sounding friendly.

  Trevor’s raised tone told her he hadn’t noticed. None of the words he spat at Erin gave her a hint that he’d ever known or cared about her work or her as a person.

  “Well do whatever you have to do,” she told him. “I’m staying.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dane cleaned their fish on the marble-topped table kept behind the side porch for just that reason. He’d returned from the fields and talking with the men working in them. His mind, however, could not remained fixed on their important topics of borers and planting new cane. While he’d spoken with his friends who worked in the fields, his thoughts kept returning to the woman who was probably still speaking on the phone inside his house.

  Erin bothered him, in more ways than he cared to admit. He slid his filet knife along the backbone of the iced perch and noticed the late-afternoon sun had sunken behind the magnolia trees, letting the shady area cool him. Yet he still felt intense heat. It crept up from his core.

  He scaled the fish, glanced toward the rose bushes she had cut on, and made a decision. She had to go. He had let her stay in his house and fish from his boat, interrupting his work and making him think of her instead of what he needed to accomplish. But if he didn’t get Erin out of his head, he could, for the first time, miss completing a planting deadline.

  No way.

  He tossed the last fish he’d cleaned into the ice chest, slammed its cover, and stomped into the house. “Erin,” he called, not seeing her in the kitchen or dining room.

  “Yes?” She sat on the bottom step of the stairwell in the office. No lights were on. Her elbows were on her knees. She wore shorts and peered up at him, her expression dreamy, or maybe dismal.

  “What have you been doing?” He glanced around his office, pleased to find no sign that she’d disturbed anything.

  “I showered, took a nap, and got up not long ago.” She stretched her arms and returned her elbows to her knees. “It’s unusual, sleeping so much. I normally don’t keep still long enough to nap during the day.”

  Okay, sleeping, their sleeping arrangement, was what he needed to address, no matter how cuddly she looked sitting there in a dreamy state. “I have to tell you something,” he said.

  “All right, tell me.” She peered up, but didn’t look interested.

  “You shouldn’t sleep in this house with me.”

  “Excuse me?” she said.

  There, he’d told her. Dane paced, his eyes viewing the wooden floor. “Maybe Tilly wanted you to hang around a day or two more—though for the life of me I can’t imagine why.” He glanced at Erin to be certain she paid attention. A small smile played around her lips after his mention of Tilly.

  Squaring his shoulders, he forced himself to say the rest. “But it’s not right for a man and a woman who aren’t, you know, romantically entangled, to be sleeping in bedrooms next to each other with only a door between them.”

  “You could leave.”

  “But I won’t.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Her chest rose and fell. “And where did you expect me to go?”

  His energy sprang up. She was understanding and agreeing to the terms he mentioned. “Tilly had that nice cottage out back. You could pack up your things, and I could drive out and show you which one you’d stay in. You could stay there as long as you want.”

  Her eyes clouded. She a
ppeared deep in thought. Erin abruptly rose and stamped off to the bedroom. His bedroom. All right, he really wanted to stay near the woman, attractive as she was and making that continuous unsettling run through his gut. The problem, he decided, glancing at the paperwork that needed tending to on his desk, was that no woman except his wife had remained in his space, sharing his days and evenings. And he wasn’t about to get all bothered because a visiting woman was making him feel so uncertain.

  “Ready.” She stood near, small suitcase in hand.

  “I’ll take that.” He grabbed for her suitcase, but she pulled it back. They stepped through the dining room and kitchen, where she glanced at the table and then the drip coffee pot as though silently telling each of them a sad farewell.

  “The cottage is real pretty,” Dane said, trying to shrug off the regret that unexpectedly rushed through him. “Tilly knew how to fix things nice.” He snagged her butterfly key ring on the way out, handing it to Erin.

  She moved out the back door ahead of him. Was she so solemn because it finally sank it? Finally now, she accepted that her aunt was never coming back? That she hadn’t owned a plantation? He almost wished it hadn’t been so when he witnessed Erin’s unhappiness. An instinct came to tell her wait, this place wasn’t his, it was Tilly’s.

  But that would lying. He bit back the words that almost came out.

  Erin yanked open the door of the sedan she’d rented at the airport.

  “The electricity’s still on back there, you’ll see, and you can come back for supper tonight,” he told her. The second part of his comment surprised him once he’d said it, but darn, this woman needed to eat. Tilly hadn’t cooked in her place lately, and there probably wasn’t much in the pantry. “I’ll have the fish ready,” he said, excited at the prospect of having Erin back in his kitchen in the near future. “Maybe we’ll eat in about two hours.”

  She started the motor without speaking.

  Dane bolted to his truck and led the way. He watched for her car through his rearview mirror, smiling when he saw it following behind. He found himself looking in that mirror more than the road as they wound their way through the dip in front of the barn and turned into the fields.

  Dusk and white dust from the shell road caused an unclear view, making him turn on his headlights. Pleased, he saw that she did the same. He slowed when they neared the cottages. In front of the second one, he pulled over.

  She stopped behind his truck, and he pointed to indicate Tilly’s place. She parked next to the picket fence and took out her luggage.

  Dane opened his passenger window. “You’ll like it.”

  Her lips remained tightly set. She went through the gate and then up on the porch. Casting another glance at Dane, she then used the key and stepped into the cottage.

  He waited until lights came on inside. First the kitchen. After a few minutes, the living room lights brightened that section. An urge to stay erupted in Dane, making him shake his head to come out of reverie. I must be tired and ready to fall asleep, he told himself, driving away.

  Exhausted though he felt, new liveliness emerged when he considered that in just a couple of hours, she would be back in his house.

  He sped back there, hopped in the shower, and tossed on clean clothes. Hustling outside, he retrieved the cleaned fish. He brought it inside, seasoned and coated it with corn meal. He was pouring grease into the frying pan when pounding came from the back screen door.

  A glance at the wall clock told him it was too early for Erin’s return. Waiting for her, he did not want to entertain other visitors. “Yes,” he barked, pulling the back wooden door open.

  She stood on the top step, suitcase in hand.

  Dane’s heart sped.

  Erin shoved inside past him. “I don’t know why you tried to make me stay in that cottage. Of course my aunt owned it. She and her husband owned all of these buildings, and don’t you forget it.”

  She spun on him, eyes aflame, making her even more intriguing. “And somebody left food in that place, in the refrigerator and the cabinets, and there are even clothes still in the closets. As if you hadn’t known.” She tromped ahead to the kitchen and set her suitcase down. “I’m sure somebody moved out of that place recently and left their things behind. I have no idea why, but I felt like I was trespassing on other people’s privacy and didn’t look at much of their belongings. If they aren’t coming back, then someone had better go out there and clean out what they had.”

  “Erin,” he said, smiling, “you obviously don’t understand.”

  “Oh yes, I do.” She waved an index finger at him. “I understand that you don’t want me to stay in this house. But I will.”

  “But--”

  “But I was almost afraid of you, not knowing whether I could trust you or not, or whether you might pull out another weapon and use it on me.”

  “Oh, Erin, no way would I ever hurt you.”

  “Great. I thought about that and believe it.” She leaned back against the counter, her face with much less passion. “And I understand that if I don’t go back to work tomorrow, I’ll lose my job.”

  His hands balled to fists. “Lose your job?”

  “My boss said I need to be back tomorrow. Or else.”

  Rancor flared inside Dane at the man who held such control over her. Of course she would have to go. But the thought of her leaving now, abruptly, made an uncommon surge of panic erupt from his gut. He controlled his voice. “Did you call the airport and make arrangements for an early flight out? You aren’t leaving tonight, are you?”

  She shook her head, and his alarm eased. At least she would stay around for supper, and maybe sleep in his bedroom one more time.

  “I’m not flying out tonight. And I’m not going tomorrow.” Gripping her suitcase, she headed toward the bedrooms.

  “Erin, wait.” He watched her stiff back. As much as he had begun to enjoy her company, he recalled that her finances were spare. “Are you willing to give up your income? Don’t they need you for that program?”

  She turned and faced him. “There are lots of writers on the staff. I’m one of the newer ones. And yes, I need the income. But if I lose it, I’m sure I’ll find something else. Eventually.”

  A mixture of annoyance and satisfaction struck Dane. Trevor was her boss. Losing her job would mean she’d probably be away from him. But finding another job in the same area wouldn’t be easy. “You can’t take days off?”

  “Some network bigwigs want meetings this week, so the boss instituted a stern policy, he told me when I phoned. No calling in to miss work unless it’s from a deathbed.”

  Dane needed to ask but wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. He sure didn’t want to push her away. “Then why don’t you go back?”

  She shrugged. “Aunt Tilly never asked anything of me, but now she wants me to do something for her.” A mist coated Erin’s eyes. “I have no idea in the world why she would want me to stay here, but she said for me to stay four days.” Erin hiked up her chin. “And I am.”

  Dane’s admiration for the woman in front of him rose even higher. “Will you be able to get a job writing for another program?”

  “There aren’t many filmed in our state, and there’s lots of competition for the few openings. I’ll have to tell potential companies that I was fired.”

  Dane wanted the unhappiness to leave her face. He noted her lips, pressed together, and recalled the sweet kiss from them. With great effort, he turned away and lifted her suitcase. They walked toward the master bedroom. “What is it that you like about your job? Writing for television or working with a team?”

  With a slow stride, she shook her head. “I wanted to write about people. I could support myself by writing for the screen, so I studied screenwriting, but my part-time jobs stretched out the time it took to finish my courses. This job hasn’t given me the creative fulfillment I had hoped for.” Erin stopped, her expression livelier. “I wanted to create people who lived real lives, facing difficulties and striv
ing to work out their solutions.”

  Dane smiled. This creation of struggling people certainly held great appeal for her. “Then why don’t you do it in another area? Write a novel. Tons of people spit them out every year.”

  She offered a weak grin. “I’d love to, but it’s not that simple. Most of those `tons of people’ aren’t making enough to live on. It normally takes years to become a best-selling author—if a person is lucky enough to ever reach that threshold. And while authors spend all that time creating the best writing they’re capable of, they need to eat.” Her grin faded. “End of story.”

  She headed for the master bedroom, and he followed, setting her suitcase down near his bed. This bed, he considered, casting a gaze across it, now held more appeal as a place for her to snuggle into to gain comfort. She flicked on the light.

  “At least,” he said, “you’ll get to enjoy one more meal. I’m about to go fry up some of our fresh fish for you.”

  Her smile made her eyes light up. “I’ll remember your generosity when I’m starving.”

  He felt the lightened area of his heart harden. “I’ll go fix supper. Come on back to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

  He headed for the kitchen with a quick pace, his step slowing while he walked through the office. Why hadn’t he encouraged her to get back home? This woman who’d so recently flown down here had a life to lead and a job that probably paid decent money, at least once she’d been on staff awhile.

  A glimpse through the doorway to the dining room let him see the silent telephone. And that phone, with her calls on it, had let him know more about her boyfriend than he’d wanted to discover. What a jerk.

  Dane glanced back toward his bedroom. The woman inside it deserved much better than that man back in the city. Her generous spirit had revealed itself in her caring about Tilly and determination to carry out her wishes. Erin needed something, someone better.

  Inhaling a breath, Dane stormed into the kitchen. He’d fix her a meal that would make her forget pressing concerns, at least for a little while.