by Carolyn Zane
Happy squeals greeted him as he nudged the kitchen door open and set his packages on the drainboard.
“Booooo!” Dusty’s cry rang from the living room as he clumped clumsily around under the infernal sheet he’d been wearing all week.
“Oh, no!” Wendy protested in mock terror. “Please don’t scare me, Mr. Ghost!” Travis could hear her running across the living room, Dusty flapping along after her.
“I won’t scare ya, you old sidewinder! But, I’ll wrastle ya!” More thumping, squeals and giggling followed as Dusty hurled himself at Wendy and dragged her to the ground, where he proceeded to gambol on her, over her and around her, puppy fashion.
Smiling, Travis headed to the garage and collected the last of his groceries. There was nothing like a five-year-old’s gleeful laughter. And no one could make Dusty laugh the way Wendy could.
Wendy. It had been two long days since he kissed her on the porch after their first lesson. In those two days, Travis figured maybe one—two at the most—of his wakeful hours had been spent not thinking about Wendy. What in tarnation was wrong with him? He never spent this much time dwelling on a woman. But, dammit anyway. If that kiss wasn’t enough to give him brain damage, then her cockamamy scheme to catch a man was.
Unfortunately, Dusty had come down with an earache while they were out Wednesday night, and Travis had been unable to help her with any more lessons that week. Just as well. He’d made a decision. No more kissing practice. No way.
He’d wasted enough time daydreaming about that. It wasn’t healthy, all this fantasizing about his neighbor, the postmistress. Envisioning her in skimpy swimsuits and lacy underthings. For crying in the night. She was the paragon of New Hope virtue. Why did he suddenly find that concept so. titillating? That must be what everyone, including himself, found so fascinating about her these days. That virginal vamp thing she had going there.
Criminy, he thought, disgruntled as he began to put the refrigerated items away. The line of leering, wolfish old men down at the post office was growing by leaps and bounds. For the past two days it had been all he could do to keep from marching behind the counter and buying a year’s supply of one-cent stamps for old Ralph and the boys. Anything to get rid of her geriatric fan club.
It seemed to him that since she’d taken his advice and toned down the wild hair, gotten some new, clear contact lenses, and stopped troweling the makeup on quite so heavily, she was getting more attention than ever. Perhaps he should tell her to go back to the garish garden look, he thought possessively. The way everyone was fawning over her made him want to gag.
And what scared him more than anything was the fact that her plan seemed to be working. She had men coming out her ears. None of them was worth a plug nickel in the husband category, but it irked him just the same. Although why it irked him remained a mystery.
Must be because of Dusty. If Wendy went off and got married and had a bunch of kids, what would happen to Dusty? Would she forget him? Travis didn’t think so. Not intentionally, anyway, but just the same, the thought was unsettling. Plus, who would he rely on, when he needed to go somewhere? When he needed someone to bounce an idea off? When he needed someone to talk to? Laugh with? Tease, and be teased by? He was only just beginning to understand how much he counted on Wendy for those things since Elly Mae left. Why hadn’t he been able to see that before?
Because her shoes had been in the way. And, her bottlebottom glasses.
He snorted and shook his head. Since Elly Mae left, he’d spent far too much time in shallow water. Well, he sighed, folding the multitude of brown paper bags that had held his groceries, one good thing had come from Wendy’s goofy plan. It had woken him up. Time to join the real world again. His self-destructive, wild-man life-style had been one way to get through the rough spots, but it was time to rejoin the human race. Time to start acting his age again. Time to think about the future. His and Dusty’s.
“Dad! You’re home!” Dusty charged into the kitchen and leapt up into Travis’s arms. “Did you remember to get some candy? It’s Tricken Treaten tonight, ya know,” he reminded him excitedly.
How could he forget? “Yep,” he said, and lifted his Stetson off his head to plop it on Dusty’s as he set his son back down on the floor. “I got enough to give every kid in New Hope at least one cavity.” Lifting his eyes, they collided with Wendy’s as she entered the room.
Her cheeks were flushed from her wrestling match with the young boy, her curly blond hair was bound loosely in a wild, flyaway ponytail, and she was wearing those blasted skintight jeans and a formfitting, light blue sweater. Aw, man. Just what he was afraid of. She was a damn vision. His gut clenched and he licked his dry lips.
“Hi,” she said shyly, averting her gaze.
“Hi,” he returned, puzzled by his own bashfulness. Ever since the big kiss, they’d been as awkward around each other as two football players in ballet class. This was also different for Travis. Made him feel about twenty years younger than he was. Although, he had to admit, the feeling was not altogether unpleasant.
“Dad, I asked Wendy to go Tricken Treaten with us tonight, ‘kay?” Dusty’s eyes fairly danced at the thought.
Travis’s gaze slowly traveled from his son back to Wendy. “Well, now, if she’s going to do something so…exciting, we want it to be with us, right, Dusty?”
“Yeah!” Dusty jumped for joy.
The double entendre was not lost on Wendy. The devilish twinkle in Travis’s eyes had her heart ricocheting off her ribs as she was suddenly transported to the circle of his arms and Wednesday night’s good-night kiss. And though the memories had her stomach in an uncomfortable twist, it was wonderful to have Travis teasing her again. For the past two
days he’d seemed vaguely distant—nearly put off—and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she’d been so hopeless as a dating partner.
“So—” Travis leaned comfortably back against his dishwasher and crossed his legs at the ankles “—can you join us tonight? Dusty’s earache is a lot better, although, I think if he were on his death bed, I couldn’t keep him down tonight.” Absently, he reached out and ruffled his son’s silky blond locks. “It’s all he’s been talking about for weeks now.”
Turning, Wendy smiled fondly at the child. “You’re sure you feel up to it?” she asked, motherly concern tingeing her voice.
“‘Course! I’m all better. Right, Dad?” He looked worriedly back and forth between the two adults, as if he feared they may keep him home. “Come on, Wendy. You hafta come Tricken Treaten with us tonight.” Dusty trained his large pleading gaze up at her. “Please? I’ll give you some of my candy.”
Giving her head a slight shake, Wendy laughed. “How can I resist such an enticing offer?” Her glance darted to Travis, then shot quickly back to Dusty. “That is, if it’s okay with your dad.”
Travis folded his arms across his broad chest and lifted his shoulders slightly. “Fine by me. In fact, it would probably be a good chance for you to practice some of your dating skills,” he said, his voice nonchalant. He waved a casual hand. “I owe you another one for taking care of Dusty this morning. So, we could kill two birds with one stone, if you want.”
Wendy deliberated for a moment. She knew she needed all the help she could get on the dating front. And having Dusty along would forestall another one of those mind-boggling kissing lessons. Which was good, since she’d made a decision not to kiss Travis anymore. It might not have affected him in the least, but she hadn’t been able to concentrate at work for two days now. If she was going to get this hung up over one little kiss, she wanted it to be with a guy she could consider marrying. Looking down at Dusty, she saw him looking hopefully up at her.
“Okay. How about if I meet you guys here just before it starts getting dark? I can help you with your costume that way, Dusty.”
“Goodie!” Dusty beamed up at his dad.
“Sounds great,” Travis agreed, perturbed to discover that he was nearly as excited as his
son about the prospect of spending the evening with Wendy.
“‘Bye, Mrs. Deane,” Travis called to their elderly neighbor, who’d agreed to pass out candy at the Donovan house while they took Dusty out that evening. “And thanks.”
“Come on, Wendy! C’mon, Dad!” Dusty was already flying down the front walkway, his plastic jack-o’-lantern thumping hollowly against his legs as he went. Dusk had settled over the cozy cul-de-sac and, one by one, the stars were beginning to appear. Little ghosts and goblins darted hither and yon, gathering candy and compliments.
“Dusty,” Wendy called, looking up at Travis helplessly. “Watch where you’re going, will you? And stay out of the street.”
“Okay,” he called, charging up the front steps to the Deane home. “Tricken Treat!” he shouted at the top of his lungs when Mr. Deane opened the door and feigned heartstopping fear at the apparition that stood belt level on his front porch.
“Oh, my! What have we here?” the old man asked with a craggy smile.
“I’m Casper!” Dusty hollered. “Boo!”
Travis gripped Wendy’s arm and, pulling her close, whispered in her ear, “You’ve got him convinced that he’s pretty scary.” He grinned indulgently in Casper’s direction.
When Travis didn’t immediately let go of her arm, Wendy guessed that he must be starting the dating lessons again, and tried to relax. Tried to pretend that this was not the man who’d opened the Pandora’s box of her dormant sensual life, but instead a comfortable old friend, on whom she could practice her social skills. As she leaned toward him, she felt his arm travel naturally around her shoulders, where it lay in a loose, brotherly hold.
“Did you say thank you?” Travis asked as Dusty tripped down the stairs and ran to where they stood waiting on the sidewalk.
“Thank you!” Dusty cried over his shoulder before galloping into the next yard.
Wendy felt a smile start in her stomach and spread to her cheeks. Travis, for all his faults, was a really terrific father. She’d consider herself to be very lucky if her future husband was even half the father Travis Donovan was. And come to think of it, she mused as Travis led her down the street after their half-pint ghost, aside from his penchant for dating half the town of New Hope, he didn’t really have that many faults. He was a wonderful father, a hard worker, a solid citizen, and a kick to spend the evening just watching TV with. Or arguing with. Or teasing. He was a pretty good friend to her, actually. Funny how she’d never really noticed how much she’d come to depend on his steady presence right next door these past three years.
“So,” Travis began easily as they strolled after Dusty. “What else can I teach you about dating?”
Her entire body flushed at the possibilities. “Um, well, uh, let’s see,” she stammered, suddenly tongue-tied. How unusual. She never felt this awkward around Travis. Perhaps it was because he had pulled her hand into his at her shoulder and laced their fingers together. Or perhaps it was the way he was absently rubbing the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. “Well, let me think here.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Probably, it would be easier for me to tell you what I do know about dating. It would take a lot less time.”
She could feel his chuckle resonate from where his chest touched her shoulder. “Okay, I get the picture,” he said.
Wendy was relieved to note that he didn’t seem put off, or disgusted by her lack of experience. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was pleased. Probably saw her as a challenge, she thought, feeling a little bit like second prize in a charity raffle.
“How about if we just practice holding hands and walking like this for a while?” he suggested. “Get you used to some hand-holding and such, while we make light conversation.” Imperceptibly, his grip on her fingers tightened as he squeezed her shoulders.
“Okay,” she mumbled, missing a step and gripping his waist with her free hand.
“Careful,” he admonished, his voice low and sexy in her ear as he caught her and locked her arm at his waist. “So, I take it that someday, you want to have a few little ghosts and goblins of your own?” Travis threw a line into the conversational pond. “Is that the reason for the big rush to become engaged before you turn thirty?”
“Mmm.” Wendy nodded as they stopped in front of yet another house while Dustin did his best to terrify the owners. “That’s a big part of it. I’d like to have several children, and if I’m going to do that, I’d better get a move on. I don’t want to be chasing them around with my walker,” she giggled.
“Oh, you’re pretty ancient,” he said mockingly.
“Easy for you to say. You already have the best little boy in Texas.”
“True.”
“I’d trade everything I have for a little one just like him,” she said wistfully, and nodded at Casper as he stumbled down his latest conquest’s front steps toward them.
Travis pulled her close and planted a tender kiss at her temple. “I meant it the other night when I told you that he feels the same way about you.”
Embarrassed, Wendy’s gaze flitted to his. “I know.”
They stood for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes, until Dusty crowded between them. “Look! Popcorn balls from Mrs. Peterson!” Unable to contain his joy, Dusty took off in a vapor of ghostly glee and headed for the next porch.
Taking a healthy step back from Wendy, Travis ran his hand over his mouth. Manachevits. He had to get a grip on his thoughts when it came to Wendy these days. For a minute there, he could almost picture her as a stepmother to his son. Lightly, he rubbed his five o’clock shadow. He’d gone and gotten too involved. Just like he warned himself not to. Time to cut her loose. To let her try her wings. Okay, so she probably wasn’t ready to solo yet, but it would probably be good for both of them if she got herself interested in another man. Quick.
“You know,” he began offhandedly, “I think you might be ready to pick a guy on your list for a date.”
“Really?” Wendy stopped walking and peered up at him through the gloaming.
“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded, watching Dusty stand on tiptoe to reach an out-of-the-way doorbell. It was a good idea. So, why did he hate it so much?
“Okay,” she said uncertainly. “If you think I’m ready, I’ll give Cecil Yates a call tomorrow and ask him out.”
Yech. Travis grimaced inwardly. Cecil Yates? “Okay, fine. I’ll call BambiAnn, and we’ll double.”
“Double?”
“Uh, yeah,” he hedged. “You may need me nearby to, uh, you know, coach you, or something.”
Wendy smiled gratefully up at him. “Good idea.”
“Great,” he said, nodding in approval. “Maybe we could even invent some code words or signals or something, in case you’re doing something wrong.”
“Okay.”
Good. It was a good idea. He liked having a little control over the proceedings. For Wendy’s sake, of course. “We’ll work on that tomorrow afternoon, and by then, maybe we’ll have our dates nailed down.” Reaching out, he took her hand in his. At her questioning glance he said, “Just some last-minute warm-up exercises.”‘
7
The following day found Wendy and Travis in his backyard, enjoying the lazy, crystal-clear Sunday afternoon as they lounged on his deck chairs, drinking ice tea. Wendy had brought with her a pad of paper and a pen to take notes regarding Wednesday night’s double date with Cecil Yates and BambiAnn Howe. Dusty sat contentedly at their feet, sorting through the mountain of candy and goodies he’d collected the evening before and reveling in time spent with his two favorite people in the world.
Cecil had been surprised and flattered by Wendy’s phone invitation to join her and Travis and BambiAnn for dinner down at Little Joe’s Cafe on Wednesday night. The slight, balding man had jumped at the suggestion, telling her that he’d been meaning to ask her out for a long time now. His eager acceptance gave Wendy courage, and now she felt reasonably sure—with the help of some last-minute coaching from Travis—that she was
finally on the road to achieving her goal.
Cecil, although he was no Travis Donovan in the looks department, seemed like a pleasant enough fellow. Mild mannered, hugely intelligent, and most important, single. A self-made millionaire in the super-computing industry, Cecil reminded Wendy somewhat of herself when it came to his social life. He was a bit of a loner, concentrating on his career, and Wendy suspected he’d never had much experience dating.
And though Cecil was easy enough to talk to on a business basis down at the post office—gracious, he could talk all day about the inner workings of a computer—Wendy had to admit she was grateful that Travis and BambiAnn would be there to take the conversational pressure off.
Now, if she could just get these crazy, secret signals that Travis insisted on, down pat, she’d be ready. Unfortunately, they only had a few days to practice, and Travis seemed to think that she wouldn’t be able to find her fork without a cue from him.
“Okay,” Travis continued, taking a thoughtful sip of his ice tea. “When I scratch my jaw, that means you should remember to let Cecil help you with your chair, or your wrap.”
“Oh, brother,” she muttered, shaking her head. A slight furrow of concentration marred Wendy’s brow as she jotted down his instructions. “Okay, jaw scratch equals ‘remember to let Cecil help.’ Um—” her eyes scanned her pad “—what does pulling on your ear mean again?”
“Ask him a question about himself. Draw him out. People love that.” Nodding, he gestured to her notes. “Read back what we have so far.”
She flipped back to the front page. “Uh, okay. If you shrug your shoulders, I should ask Cecil to dance. If you pinch the bridge of your nose, I should move a little closer to Cecil. If you cough, I can graduate to blowing in his ear…” She glanced up at Travis. “I don’t know about that one, Travis. It seems a little forward.”