But when she turned the key, all she heard was a chattering sound from under the hood.
She closed her eyes and tried again several times, somehow knowing it was no use. Feeling disgusted with all motorized vehicles in general, Sara realized she needed to go back into the church before it closed to call Hattie. She pushed open her door and slid out, just in time to receive an onslaught of rain. She was soaked to the skin within seconds.
Sputtering and wiping her streaming hair out of her eyes, Sara groped blindly for the door handle. As she scrambled inside, she saw Brian appear at her window. She rolled down the window a crack.
“Having a problem, Sara?”
“My truck won’t start,” she mumbled.
“Scoot over and I’ll give it a try.”
She moved across the seat, refraining to point out he would hardly have more success in the simple act of turning a key. Brian’s frame filled the small cab as he got in. He pumped the gas pedal and turned the key with the same result then looked at her and shrugged.
“Looks like you need a ride home.”
“Hattie is expecting me.”
“You can’t go there in the condition you’re in.”
Sara plucked at the fabric of her dress, suddenly aware of the way it clung to her body.
Brian pulled out his cell phone from his coat pocket. “What’s Hattie’s number?”
Sara told him and he made the call, he handed her the phone. She explained her predicament to her sympathetic aunt and made arrangements to come over another day. After saying goodbye, Sara handed him the phone.
Brian tucked it into his pocket. “I think with a truck like yours, a cell phone is a necessity.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why do I need one when I can just use yours?” The moment the words were out, she wished she hadn't uttered them. It was as if she assumed he'd always be available to her.
“This weather is unbelievable,” he said after a moment, thankfully changing the subject. “I’m sure glad that roof is on.”
She murmured an agreement and shivered.
Brian looked over at her in apparent concern. He wriggled out of his coat and settled it around her shoulders. “I know it won’t help much now that you’re already wet, but maybe it will take the chill off.”
Sara could feel the remaining warmth of his body and smelled a hint of his cologne. “Thanks.”
“As soon as the rain lets up a bit we’ll go over to my truck.”
The rain drumming on the roof of the Ford was almost deafening. Sara hoped it drowned out the noisy pounding of her heart. Brian’s nearness had its usual effect on her. Through the smears of rain on the windshield, she saw everyone had left. Great.
“That was a very good service, don’t you think?”
Staring straight ahead, she nodded. “Yes.”
“Hattie’s had your car for quite a while.”
“The problems with the Corolla were worse than expected, so I told her to use mine as long as needed.”
“Oh.”
Several awkward minutes followed while she prayed the rain would stop. Brian shifted toward her. As she sensed his gaze, she lowered her eyes, cursing the heat she felt spreading across her face.
“Sara,” he said with a husky note in his voice. “I—”
A rapid knock on the driver side window made them both jump. Brian rolled the window down to reveal the pastor standing next to the truck. Rivers of rain poured off his hat as he smiled at them.
“Is everything all right?”
“Sara got caught in the downpour and her truck won’t start,” Brian explained. “I’m going to give her a ride home but we’re waiting for the rain to let up.”
“Anything I could do to help?”
“Can we leave the truck here for a few hours until I can get someone out here to take a look at it?
“No problem. Do you need to use a phone?”
“I have my cell with me.”
“Sounds like you have everything under control. I was about ready to leave and lock up the church, and just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“Thank you,” said Brian before rolling up the window.
“What made him think there was anything wrong?” Sara wondered aloud.
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe the foggy windows made him think a couple of teenagers were in here.”
“Oh, yay.”
He shrugged. “Nothing happened, so there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Now why did that thought make her feel so depressed?
Brian cracked the window a few minutes later and peeked out. “Looks like this is our chance. Ready?”
There was nothing for Sara to do but lock up her Ford and follow him to his truck. A few tattered clouds spit out the last bit of rain as they navigated around all the puddles in the gravel parking lot. Brian’s truck roared to life and soon warm air poured out of the heater. After the cold, stark interior of her truck, this felt like decadence.
They completed the short drive in silence. At the farmhouse, Sara slid the coat from her shoulders and thanked him for the ride.
“I’ll wait for you to go change, and then you’ll need to come back with me in case we get your truck running.”
At his words, Sara noticed the sun made a bleary attempt to shine down on the rain-washed landscape. She suddenly smiled at him before hurrying into the house.
After stripping off her sodden clothes and towel-drying her hair, Sara donned a rose-colored cotton sweater and pair of blue jeans. She quickly brushed her hair and grabbed a coat from her closet before going back outside.
When she got back into the truck, Brian was talking on his phone and looked agitated.
“What do you mean you’re closed on Sunday? If your sheep fell into a pit, wouldn’t you go and get it out?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it in amazement. “That guy just hung up on me!”
Sara bit back a smile. “Who were you trying to call?”
“A mechanic. I can’t find anyone in this Podunk town who will look at your truck today. Even if I wanted to have it towed to a shop, the towing company is closed! Who ever heard of that?”
Leaning her arm against the rest on the door, she gave him a speculative look. “This is a small town, Brian, and so unlike you. Why exactly are you here?”
He seemed to become overly interested in the steering wheel. “I’m sure you know why.”
Sara slowly shook her head. “Nope. No idea.” She composed her expression into a careful blank as she waited for his explanation, having no intention of revealing her tumult within.
But Brian was as forthcoming as she. His eyes gave nothing away as he studied her. The ringing of his cell phone broke the spell, but not before Sara saw his look of relief. Saved by the bell.
She sagged against the seat and listened to him talk. Had he come to Oregon because of her? If that was the case, why wasn’t it more obvious? Surely if he wanted to reanimate her affections he wouldn’t be so slow about it. Brian wasn’t the type to dillydally. She always thought of him as someone who got what he wanted. Does he want me? Goose bumps crawled up her arms and she huddled deeper into her coat for warmth.
“That was one of the mechanics I called. I left a message with his wife, and he called back to say he could meet us at the church.”
“Great.”
A short time later they all met back at the church parking lot. Before checking under the hood of the Ford, the mechanic asked for the keys and got into the truck. The engine came to life and proceeded to idle smoothly. Brian shot Sara a look of comic dismay.
“I must have the magic touch,” the mechanic said as he emerged from the cab. “Bring it around to the shop next week, and I’ll take a closer look at it.”
Sara agreed and watched Brian walk him to his car. The mechanic refused payment for his time and waved as he drove away.
“Why didn’t it start before?” she asked Brian as he walked back toward her.
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“It’s an old truck and is probably getting cranky.”
“Well, thanks for your trouble. You can go back to your paperwork now.” She got into her truck and rolled down the window.
“I’ll follow you in case it breaks down along the way.”
Sara nodded and pulled out of the parking lot. All the way home, she had to remind herself to keep her eyes on the road and not in the rearview mirror. When she stopped in her driveway and shut off the motor, she said a quick goodbye to Brian and went into the house, deciding she felt a lot like her truck.
Cranky.
Chapter Fifteen
Sara found that by avoiding Brian, she could put off the gut wrenching self-examination as well. She continued to study up on business management using her aunt’s computer, though she noted Hattie was absent from home more often than not.
The construction proceeded according to plan. Brian and his crew worked very hard, and she was pleased with the progress. The bay window was framed in, and although the opening was now boarded up with plywood, she could easily imagine the view she’d enjoy once the windows were in place.
When Brian needed to discuss anything with her, she made sure it was in full view of the crew, grimly satisfied when he no longer subjected her to false intimacy. In the evenings, in case he planned to seek her out, she stayed behind the closed doors of her room, thereby cutting off any excess of communication.
Despite clinging to the idea the current state of affairs was desirable, Sara became increasingly bad tempered and out of sorts. She blamed it squarely on the weather. But the rainy weather of the past week evaporated before an incoming burst of perfect summer weather, taking even that excuse away.
One morning, the day dawned bright and glorious. Sara awoke early and decided to go for a walk before it got too hot. Confusion, worry, and edginess didn’t belong in such a setting. By the time she returned to the house, she was in a better mood and decided to make an extra effort to be friendly to Brian.
Eli’s old appliances had been moved into the dining room so she could use them while the kitchen underwent remodeling. A plastic sheet separated the kitchen from the dining room, to keep dust and debris out her cookery. Because of this arrangement and the fact she had to wash all dirty dishes in the bathtub, she didn’t do much cooking.
This morning she thought it would be fun to bake something. When she heard Brian grumping at one of the crew members, she decided a pan of warm cinnamon rolls might go a long way in soothing the savage male beast. As Sara collected everything needed for the recipe, she found she was out of a few key ingredients and needed to make a trip to the store before she could begin baking.
She returned home from the supermarket nearly two hours later, and her earlier boosted spirits long gone. A minor tractor incident and hitting a busy time at the grocery store made a quick trip into town take twice as long. Then her truck didn’t want to start, and it took many threats and prayers to make it home. Sara wondered how repairs were going on the Corolla, and realized she’d need to get the Ford looked at before she ended up having to share the Accord with her aunt.
As she edged her way through the front door with two large sacks in her arms, she tripped on the threshold and a carton of eggs toppled out and hit the floor. Ten out of the twelve eggs broke, and by the time Sara cleaned the mess up, she felt irritable. She considered holing up in her room and eating the whole pan of cinnamon rolls herself—if she ever managed to get the things made.
Sara pulled out several bowls and began. She mixed, kneaded, and punched, venting some of her angst. After spreading the flattened dough with butter, cinnamon and sugar, rolling it up and slicing it with thread, she let them rise for a while before placing them tenderly in the oven.
Sara went into the kitchen to tell the crew they were welcome to some after they were done. She wondered whether or not Brian was worth the effort when he made no comment about the heady aroma filling the house. Instead, he disappeared out the back door.
She glanced out the kitchen window and saw him climb a few steps up a ladder. She watched the play of muscles in his arms as he cut a piece of copper flashing with tin snips. Yes, he was definitely worth it—from an aesthetic point of view anyway. Her eyes lingered on him as he climbed the rest of the way up to the roof.
After cleaning up the mess from baking in the dining room, she returned to the kitchen to check the progress of construction. The electrician was there, threading wire through specially placed holes in the wall framing. He smiled briefly at her and continued working. A sudden muffled exclamation jerked her head back to the window. Sara saw a dark shape plunge past. She collided with the electrician as they both rushed out the back door.
They found Brian on the ground tangled up with the ladder. His face looked ashen and blood flowed from a gash on his head. Sara hurried to his side as the crew arrived, alerted by the crash. Brian kicked away the ladder and struggled to his feet.
“I’m fine!” he repeated as he batted away all attempts to aid him. Sara watched with concern when he staggered slightly and leaned against the side of the house for support.
He looked at his watch and then at his crew. “It’s almost four o’clock. Go ahead and call it a day, guys.”
“But the cinnamon rolls aren’t ready yet!” Jeff protested.
All three of the crew retreated before Brian’s basilisk stare. Sara stifled a smile as they scrambled to put away their tools. She followed and quietly told them they could have some the next day.
After they left, she approached Brian and touched his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Just a little dizzy, that’s all. More than anything, I’m mad at myself for falling. I wasn’t paying proper attention to what I was doing.”
“Well, I think you should come into the house and let me patch up that cut on your head.”
Brian reached up and touched his head, visibly surprised to find blood on his fingers. Without waiting for permission, she slid her arm around his waist and ‘helped’ him into the house. She led him through her bedroom and into the bathroom where Brian wearily sank onto the toilet seat lid.
“I think you’re hurt worse than you’re admitting,” Sara said as she rummaged through her medicine cabinet.
He shrugged, then winced at the resulting pain. “I guess I am still seeing stars.”
Sara dabbed at the cut on his head with a warm, wet washcloth. “What happened?”
Brian closed his eyes and sat still for Sara’s ministrations. “I was installing a piece of ornamental flashing and lost my balance. I’m lucky an O.S.H.A. rep didn’t happen by at that moment. I was using the wrong ladder for the job because it was the closest at hand.”
“That was very naughty and dangerous. You better hope I don’t turn you in,” Sara said with mock solemnity.
Brian opened his eyes and gazed at her with such intensity, her movements faltered. She became aware of the way he dwarfed the tiny room. Clumsily, she dabbed some ointment on a bandage and with trembling hands, placed it over the wound.
Hoping to put some distance between them, she took a step back—and bumped into the wall. Brian got to his feet and stood over her, causing her to shrink back even further.
“You forgot something,” he said in a low voice, bracing his arms against the wall on either side of her.
“What?”
“You’re supposed to give a kiss to make it all better.”
She stared up at him in dismay. “You’re just flirting with me.”
But instead of answering, he lowered his head. At the last second, Sara caught him lightly by the sides of his face and angled his head, placing a quick kiss near the bandage.
“That’s not what I meant,” he growled.
“Please don’t tease me,” she said breathlessly, putting her hands on his chest to hold him at bay.
“Who said I was teasing?”
Sara noticed warm moisture under one hand and looked quizzically at his chest. “Brian!” she
squeaked. “You’re bleeding through your shirt!” She hastily unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and peeled it open to reveal a nasty abrasion several inches below his collarbone
He looked down at the wound. “I thought the pain there was caused by my broken heart.”
Exasperated, Sara made a face. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know.”
Although she felt weak from his proximity, she was determined to get some answers. “What, is there a shortage of shy, repressed, librarian types in San Diego that you needed to come looking for one?”
Brian grinned at her response then caught her chin in his hand. He tilted up her face and slowly lowered his lips to hers. Sara knew she should stop him, but she craved his kiss nonetheless. Before he made contact, an acrid odor assaulted her nose. She gave him a little shove. “Do you smell smoke?”
“Literally or figuratively?” he asked with a wicked grin.
Sara ignored him while she sniffed the air. “Oh no! The cinnamon rolls!” She squeezed past him and darted out into the dining room.
Brian followed at a more leisurely pace, mentally bemoaning the shattered moment. He found Sara easing open the oven door. Choking smoke billowed as she pulled out a pan of blackened cinnamon rolls. She set them on the stove and closed the door with a sigh.
“I accidentally turned the oven onto broil. What a waste,” she said in a woebegone voice. “The guys will be so disappointed.”
Brian’s indulgent mood evaporated. “You made cinnamon rolls for those young puppies? I thought they were for me!”
“Well, that’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?”
He stared at her huffily. “If you want to impress a bunch of teeny-boppers with too much testosterone, that’s your business!”
Brian couldn’t remember being so angry. It took every ounce of his self-control not to haul Sara against himself and kiss her the way he longed to. Sara let out a giggle, which only infuriated him more. He stalked from the room, knowing he looked like a fool.
Restorations (Book One Oregon In Love) Page 12