“What happened?”
Her cute little forehead bunched, forming lines between her brows. Her concern made guilt swell in his chest. He didn’t answer, only shook his head.
“Does it hurt badly?”
He shot her a callous glare.
“Of course it does. Let me get you some ice.” Arianne sped to the freezer and grabbed an icepack. She returned to her post and placed it on his knee, pressing her hands on it to hold it in place. Her gray shirt brightened her blue eyes to match the ocean on a stormy day.
Huck refused to let the rising guilt drown him. After all, he was doing this for his own good. “I tripped on a rake in the shed. Lost my balance and fell.” He made sure to gasp every couple of words.
Wooden legs screeched across the floor as she pulled a chair in front of him and lifted his still-healing leg onto it. “You shouldn’t be working yet. I told you it was a bad idea, but no one ever wants to listen to me. I knew you weren’t ready. Now you’ve gone and messed yourself up…”
He blocked out the rest. Normally, her nagging would raise his blood pressure. This time her badgering meant she’d be staying with him longer.
She removed the icepack to examine his kneecap with her fingers. Her pink bottom lip darkened as she nibbled in concentration. “Am I hurting you?”
Oh, yeah. “Be careful.”
“Sorry.” She replaced the icepack. “Everything seems to be in place, though you may have a sprain or fracture. It doesn’t feel swollen.”
The back door opened then closed. “Arianne, its Jude.” The man’s boots thumped closer. Great. Jude was going to blow his cover.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Arianne called over her shoulder.
“Hey, when you see Huck, will you tell him…There you are.” Jude put his hands on his beltline. Huck had left him outside minutes earlier. “What are you doing?”
Huck opened his mouth, but Arianne spoke for him. “He fell in the shed.”
Jude stepped closer. “Fell?”
Huck tightened the muscles in his face and acted brave, the way he would do if this situation were real. Jude would never buy his wailing like a girl. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” Arianne squeezed his fingers and stood.
Jude leaned against the counter. “What’d you trip on?”
“A rake.” This was starting to scalp his dignity.
Jude’s mouth twisted the way it always did when he was thinking something over. “The rake? But it’s—”
“Ooh…” Huck gripped his knee. Anything to keep Jude from revealing the rake was hanging on a wall hook.
“You need to rest.” Arianne bent and wedged her body under his arm to help him stand. “I’m helping you to the recliner where you’re going to stay. Got it?”
He honed in on her wrinkled nose, bunched in determination. Yes ma’am. “We’ll see.”
Huck muted her fussing as she helped him settle into the recliner under a blanket and then fetched him some Ibuprofen and a pop. He really should feel sorry for deceiving her. But he didn’t.
~*~
Huck drummed his fingers on the arm of his leather chair. The birthday card he’d helped Emma make for Arianne last night lay open on the desk. She was turning thirty in a few days and hadn’t said a word about it. He’d seen a letter in the mail forward-addressed to her, the right size and thickness for a greeting card, and the “Happy Birthday” postage stamp and balloon stickers gave it away. He’d searched the Internet, found the exact date, and then pretended not to notice.
She’d been studying her reflection in the mirror a lot lately, checking, he assumed, for gray hair and wrinkles. Crazy woman. She didn’t need to fuss over that stuff. She was gorgeous. Every time she smiled, it took him back to eighteen—fast cars, football games, and her kitchen table the night they’d kissed.
This hippy daydreaming junk had to stop. He called the Big Brother office to let them know he was ready to come back; then he asked to talk to Matt.
“You ready to make up that basketball game, tough guy?”
Huck could hear the goofy grin spreading across Matt’s face. “Sorry, buddy, no games just yet. I will shoot some hoops with you, though. As long as you promise not to rat me out.”
“To whom?”
“My nurse.”
“The blonde chick from the cookout? Please. If you’re afraid of her, then you’re a bigger wimp than I thought.”
Turned out, he was.
They decided on Thursday, and Huck ended the call and dialed the registrar at the University of Maine. On the fourth ring, he prepared to leave a message when someone answered. “Max Jordan, please.”
After a transfer and more rings, Max answered. “You’re not calling to cancel on me are you?”
The chair groaned as Huck leaned his weight against the back and propped his feet on the desk corner. “No, I’ll be there.”
Max had invited Huck to be a guest speaker in their agricultural class to reiterate the importance of proper pollination versus a good yield.
“Glad to hear it. What can I do for you, then?”
This was gonna hurt. Huck unclenched his jaw. “I had a question about a scholarship. I saw the college was offering one for design, and I have a friend who might be interested.”
“Great. Graphic or interior?”
The old-fashioned dresses in her shop certainly weren’t graphic. Interior? He didn’t know. “Uh, she designs wedding gowns.”
“Hmm. Currently, we aren’t offering any scholarships for fashion design.”
Ah, fashion design.
“Let me check with my colleagues, though, and see if I can get you some information for your friend.”
Huck’s neck warmed. Max better not be picturing him in a dress and heels. “Thanks, ‘ppreciate that.”
Huck kept talking, touching on everything from fly fishing to bear hunting to the mechanics underneath the hood of Max’s Audi TT, in case Max was questioning Huck’s masculinity.
He hung up, unable to believe he’d done that. More than anything, he wanted Arianne happy. Whether that included him in the future or not. For once he wanted to do something good for her.
He stood and braced himself on the crutches. Stupid things. A man had to be insane to use ‘em when he didn’t need ‘em. Someone ought to lock him away in the nearest nuthouse.
He wasn’t sure what frightened him more. The fact that she might disappear from his life, or the fact that he was sinking to such lows as faking an injury to keep her around.
It wasn’t love. He’d decided that the other night as he stared at his ceiling, unable to sleep. Again. Huck Anderson didn’t fall in love. But it was something. Until he fit all the pieces together, he had to do what he could to keep her here, because the idea of her not here was more painful than rehab.
~*~
Arianne’s breath clouded in the air, mixing with the snow flurries. “Come on, Emma.”
She rubbed her mitten-wrapped hands together and shivered while her equally freezing daughter climbed out from the backseat.
November was making quite an impression. Her car had complained when she’d started it after work, but the engine finally turned over. The heater warmed them enough to keep the frost away as she drove home—to Huck’s.
She’d expected to be back into her apartment a week ago, but with Huck’s regressing health, she couldn’t leave. And to be honest, she was relieved for any excuse to stay. This place had seeped into the cracks of her dry soul.
Emma’s knit cap bounced with each step up the walk. She’d failed her daughter again. The Darcy catastrophe had cost her a new building. They’d better enjoy their lives now. Once Huck started his sporting goods store, who knew what would become of them.
Warmth enveloped her as she opened the door and stepped inside. Arianne shucked her coat and mittens and helped Emma do the same. The faint smell of pine hung in the air. They followed the scent to the dim living room where wood crackled in the fireplace. The
flame reflected on the coffee table where her latest book and a bag of Reese’s Pieces sat. The cozy ambiance did nothing to lighten her weighted spirits. In fact, it made it worse.
She ran her hand along the hooded sweatshirt Huck had thrown across the recliner. Where was he anyway?
Emma trailed behind her to their side of the house. Light spilled into the hall. Male voices grew louder as they neared the bathroom. Inside, Huck leaned against the sink with his back to the door. A dark-haired man with a tool belt hanging low on his hips stood in the bathtub. A section of the wall by the shower had been removed, and the muscles in his back rippled beneath his shirt when he rotated a pipe with his wrench.
“Wow, what happened, Mr. Huck?”
Huck jerked away from the wall and snatched his crutches. His wide eyes flew straight to Arianne. “Uh, Jack here’s come to fix your bathroom.”
What was the deer in headlights look all about?
Jack swiveled his head, hands wrapped around the wrench. Arianne recognized him as one of the newcomers at church. He’d attended faithfully the last few months, but she’d only seen him from a distance. She smiled.
He released the tool and stepped out of the bathtub, his boots crunching the crumbled drywall on the floor. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get out here. Since the house is owned by the municipality, we’re the only one’s allowed to do the work. It’s just me and one other guy. We take maintenance requests in the order that we get them.”
“No problem. We survived.” Now that she spied him up close, she understood why the Double-Mint twins from the singles class had made such a fuss over him from their pew the other day.
He swiped his hand along his faded jeans before extending it to her. “Jackson Swift.” His mouth curled in a crooked smile. Dark green eyes filled with recognition and a hint of amusement looked from her to Huck then back again. “I believe we go to church together. Arianne, right?”
He knew her name? A blush singed her cheeks, and she hated herself for it. “Yeah, I recognize you too.”
Did that sound as lame to everyone else as it did to her?
“And this is Emma,” Huck said. “Now that we all know each other, Jack and I have work to do.”
That’s when she noticed they were still shaking hands. More like holding, really. She swallowed and let go. Jack’s gaze cut to his boots. Huck watched them with a snarl.
“You’re not ‘posed to work, Mr. Huck. Your leg’s hurt again. Remember?”
Huck’s face reddened, and Arianne bit her lip to keep from giggling.
Jack returned to his task. Slightly shorter than Huck, his presence was every bit as intimidating. And appealing.
Arianne patted Emma’s shoulder. “Huck’s supervising.”
His glare intensified.
She winked. “Come on. Let’s leave the men to their work.”
Because two gorgeous men in one room was too much to handle. Especially since she’d sworn off men entirely.
“But Mommy, I’m a good helper.” Emma’s new blue-and-cream plaid shirt made her look older. Hopefully, any growth spurts would hold out for a while, so she could wear it plenty.
“I know you are, sweetheart, but you don’t want to ruin your new clothes.” She led her daughter out the door. “How do pajamas and some dinner sound?”
“Can I have a fluffernutter?”
“We might be able to work something out.” The peanut butter and marshmallow cream sandwich was a comfort food favorite of hers as well.
She helped Emma change into her purple polka-dot pajamas. They went to the kitchen, where Emma insisted on making her own snack. Arianne cut it in half, got Emma settled at the table with milk, and went back to her bathroom to ask Huck if he was ready for dinner. She paused outside the doorway when she heard her name.
“So, are you and Arianne…” Jack’s voice.
“No,” Huck said. “We’re old friends. She agreed to help me recoup, and I agreed to help her with the shop. Business partners. That’s all. Why?”
Arianne sagged against the wall. She was stupid to hope otherwise. That’s all they’d ever been. All they’d ever be. She knew this, yet it hurt to hear Huck say it aloud.
“I just wanted to make sure.” Jack again, plus the sound of metal breaking loose. “Thought about asking her out sometime.”
Huck’s laugh grated. “Go for it. You might give her a couple years’ notice, though. She’s a homebody. Not the spontaneous type.”
Arianne’s mouth gaped open. What was he saying? That she wasn’t fun? Heat spread through her. She was fun. Just not his kind of fun.
“That’s good. Neither am I. The worst she can do is say no, right?” Jack grunted as another piece of metal broke free.
Arianne stepped away from the wall. The attraction between her and Huck lately—he was playing with her because she was here. He didn’t really care at all.
She tip-toed back down the hall, sure to make noise as she returned to the bathroom. The men’s conversation ceased. “I was about to start dinner and wondered if you’d like to join us, Jack.” She forced sweetness into her voice as she tilted her head to the side and offered a flirty smile, praying she didn’t look like an idiot.
Jack wiped his hands on a rag. “Uh, sure.”
See? She could be spontaneous.
Huck stood taller. “You sure you want to do that, buddy? Arianne here’s not the greatest cook.”
She willed herself not to gasp out loud. If they’d been alone, she’d have clawed his eyes out. Jack must’ve noticed the horror on her face, because after clearing his throat, he said, “I’ll take my chances. A home-cooked meal sounds nice.”
Jack was looking better every second. “I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” Arianne turned and put her hand on Huck’s arm. “Your leg is never going to heal if you keep pushing yourself. Why don’t you go sit down? I’m sure Jack is capable of handling the job by himself.” She threw as much admiration into that last sentence as she could muster.
Huck’s nostrils flared. She threw him a battle-lines-have-been-drawn scowl.
An hour later, she called everyone to a beautifully set table and peppered shrimp Alfredo—thanks to Sherry’s step-by-step guidance over the phone—garlic bread, previously frozen from the store, and a pre-packaged garden salad. She’d make Huck a liar if it was the last thing she did.
Jack swallowed his mouthful. “This is amazing, Arianne.”
“Sure is.” Huck raised a brow. “You been holdin’ out on me all this time?”
One more derogatory comment and that guardrail was going to seem like a pony ride.
Huck made polite jabs throughout dinner, and somehow she managed to make it through without killing him. He hovered over her every move, bumbling around on his crutches, while Jack helped her clean the kitchen. She was all too relieved when Emma asked Huck to tuck her into bed and read a story.
“Sure, kid. Me and your mom’ll be there in just a minute.”
Emma tugged his arm. “I want you to read it, Mr. Huck. You do all the funny voices.”
Huck turned away, but not before Arianne caught the red in his cheeks.
“Go ahead, Huck. You need to get off that leg anyway. I’ll be there shortly.”
His crutches pounded the floor as he followed Emma down the hall. With him gone, she could breathe deeper than she had all evening.
“She’s a sweet kid.” Jack put the last clean plate in the dish drainer. “Thanks for dinner, Arianne. It was delicious.”
“My pleasure.”
Jack wiped down the counter and tossed the rag into the sink. “I’d like to return the favor. Will you go to dinner with me tomorrow night?”
She hesitated only a moment, ticking off the reasons a date with Jack made sense. One, Huck didn’t love her. Two, Jack was a Christian. Three, he wasn’t spontaneous, which meant boring, just like her. “I’d like that.”
Another crooked smile crept up his face, crinkling the skin around his eyes. Why hadn�
��t she noticed this guy before? In his work clothes and tool belt, he belonged with This Old House. Put the man in a suit and he could easily model for GQ.
“Pick you up at seven?”
She’d be ready by noon. “Perfect.”
He cleaned his mess from the bathroom then said goodbye. Huck was finishing If You Give a Mouse a Cookie when she entered her bedroom. Emma’s eyelids fluttered closed, and Arianne kissed her cheek.
Arianne turned on the nightlight then flipped off the main one, bathing the room in darkness except for the small glow that lit Emma’s beautiful face.
Huck rounded on her as she closed the door, and she pressed her body against the wall. “Handy Manny go home?”
The air sparked with his close proximity. “What’s your problem? I thought you guys knew each other.”
“No problem. Just askin’.”
He smelled so good. Her heart pounded harder. If he hadn’t insulted her all night, she’d hope he’d leaned down to kiss her. The fire in his eyes told her he might. His gaze dropped to her lips. She sucked in a deep breath and fled to the living room. They were business partners. And he was only playing.
“Oh, there’s a problem all right. A big one.” She turned on him when he caught up to her by the fireplace. “I can’t even count how many times you insulted me tonight.”
“I didn’t insult you. I was teasing.”
“Ha! You were making me look as bad as you possibly could. Do you really think that poorly of me?”
He rubbed his forehead. “‘Course not.” Huck inhaled and stared at the flames dancing between the logs. “The guy mentioned that he wanted to ask you out. I thought I was doing you a favor.”
“By making me look stupid?”
Wounded eyes gazed back at her. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”
“Then why?”
He paused. “That day at the honey house, you told me you were done with dating. That every guy you picked turned out to be a creep. I thought I’d save you the trouble of fighting him off.”
How to Charm a Beekeeper's Heart Page 17