by Liz Talley
“I don’t want no ladies fussin’ round me. They’ll be bringing me new shirts and casseroles. Trying to knit me booties for winter. Had about all of that I could take with your grandmother.”
Tyson smiled. “Yeah, she was a real ballbuster.”
“Sweetest thing in Texas is what she was,” his grandfather said, emotion heavy in his voice. The man had loved Annie Hart with every fiber of his being and still grew maudlin at the mention of the woman he’d lost twenty-five years ago when Tyson was only a teen.
Their only son, Trent, Tyson’s father, had problems almost all his life and as he’d gotten older he’d dabbled in alcohol and drugs. Tyson’s mother wasn’t much better. Grady and Annie had been the only stable force in Tyson’s life. He had bumped back and forth between Oak Stand and towns all over North Carolina as he grew up. At times it had been tough, but he’d survived. His father had passed away five years ago, estranged from his family. His mother lived in Myrtle Beach and rarely called. Grady and Laurel were his family.
“Yeah, Grandma was a gem. Especially to put up with your cranky butt.”
Grady grunted.
“So, you got the remote control. Are you good?”
“Course I’m good. I’ve been takin’ care of myself for seventy-six years. Ever since I was twelve years old.”
“I know,” Tyson said, picking up a long-sleeved white shirt that was hanging on the back of the library door. He knew at once it was Dawn’s. She must have left it yesterday when she came to clear out the rooms. Before he could stop himself, he brought the shirt to his nose and inhaled her scent—a clean, flowery smell. Then he snorted. So much for distance. Friends didn’t sniff each other’s clothing.
“Don’t you snort. I had to leave home when I was a wet-behind-the-ears boy to find work. There ain’t nothing funny about the Depression and there ain’t nothin’ funny about going hungry. Somebody had to put food on the table for our family.”
Tyson interrupted his grandfather’s favorite tirade that would wrap up with a lecture on being a responsible, dependable, teetotaling man. “I wasn’t snorting at you. I had some dust in my nose.”
“Oh,” his grandfather said again.
Tyson told his grandfather goodbye then headed down the stairs. As he stepped onto the landing, he took one more sniff of Dawn’s shirt and tried to convince himself it wasn’t perverted to stand in an old folk’s center and sniff the director’s shirt.
Of course, it was perverted. Or weird. Or both.
God, he hoped this friendship thing worked out. But he had his doubts. Dawn had sparked something in him he hadn’t felt since before Iraq.
And he knew what it was. It was excitement. Plain and not so simple.
CHAPTER SIX
TWO WEEKS LATER, DAWN carried a pumpkin onto the porch and placed it on one of the pillars flanking the steps of Tucker House. The orange globe grinned with macabre glee—a smile that was Hunter Todd approved. Tyson brought the second one and placed it on the matching pillar. Hunter Todd ran past them and jumped into a pile of leaves Dawn had raked earlier.
“There,” he said, “I think those look fine. I wish Laurel was coming for the weekend. We’d show her a true small-town Halloween.”
Dawn studied the jack-o’-lanterns, feeling bad for Tyson. Over the past few weeks of “being friends,” he’d told her about the pending divorce and the rapidly expanding gulf between him and his only child. He thought moving to Oak Stand would fix everything. That getting back to his roots would give Laurel gravity in her life. Teach her some old-fashioned values. But it didn’t seem to be working. Especially since Laurel had contrived reason after reason for not fulfilling the terms of the custody arrangement. Something important always came up—a recital practice, a youth-group function or a bad cold. Tyson said he didn’t want to go to court and force his daughter to visit him because he thought the effort would widen the gap between them.
Dawn wanted to tell him his refusal to put his foot down was the probably the wrong move. But it wasn’t her place.
“Yeah, I know. Kids are hard. I can’t get Andrew to come for a visit, either. I even dangled caramel apples as bait,” Dawn said, wanting to reach out and pluck a pumpkin seed from Tyson’s hair, but she refrained from doing so. “Hey, you got a pumpkin seed in your hair.”
“Where?” he said, feeling around his hair, missing the thing completely.
“Here. Bend down,” Dawn commanded. He tilted toward her and she brushed away the offending seed. She wanted to fan her fingers through his hair, but friends didn’t do things like that. Lovers did.
Tyson picked up the seed from where it lay on the walk. “My grandfather roasted some of these for me one Halloween. We stayed up late munching on them and watching old vampire movies.”
He sounded so wistful. He missed his child. And he wasn’t doing the right thing with her. The situation was only going to get worse. Another good reason Dawn and he were only friends. Tyson had some serious issues that needed his attention, ones Dawn would surely get caught up in.
“It might be cool to do some of those tonight,” she said, adjusting the stemmed cap on the jack-o’-lantern.
“Did we save the pumpkin guts?”
“Yuck!” Hunter Todd cried, wrinkling his nose as he galloped toward them. “I ain’t eating no pumpkin guts.”
“They’re not real guts, silly. Just the stringy stuff we pulled out. The seeds were in there, remember?” she said.
“Come help me pick them out, Hunter. Then I’ll show you how to roast them,” Tyson said, tugging Hunter Todd up the steps.
Dawn pushed her hair out of her face and surveyed the front lawn. She’d have to get those leaves bagged up but not until after the planned festivities. Tonight, Tucker House was holding a special Halloween night out for its patrons. She and Margo had been working all day to set up small stations for the senior adults to operate for the ghosts and princesses who would be showing up when the sun sank into the Texas horizon.
A huge pile of leaves might distract the children while they waited for the ladies who did china painting and ceramics to paint their faces. Ester and Grace were heading up a decorate your own cookie table while some of the men hosted a fish for candy booth and a doughnut dunking booth. Not only would tonight be fun for the senior adults, it would allow busy parents more time for trick-or-treating with their children without having to worry about leaving Grandma or Grandpa home alone.
That was the beauty of Tucker House. Not only did they provide day care for senior adults who could not stay home alone, but they tried to sponsor “Night Out” events that would allow caretakers a chance to go out worry-free. Nellie had been adamant about helping hardworking families with the care of their loved ones. She’d experienced firsthand how caring for her grandmother crimped her own social life. Tucker House even provided sitters for elderly patients who couldn’t physically come to Tucker House for the event night.
“Whew! I got the doughnuts from the bakery. Mr. Neely said they were day-old but perfectly good. And the price was right,” Margo said, coming out onto the porch wearing a pinafore apron with a ghost on it that Ester had made her.
“Free?” Dawn asked.
Margo’s gold crown winked. “Yes, ma’am.”
Dawn glanced at Tyson and Hunter Todd hunkered down at the end of the wide porch, picking pumpkin seeds out of the remains of the gourd. She heard a couple of jokes about squishy guts and some high-pitched screams from Hunter Todd. The two heads bobbing together over the task struck a chord of regret in her chest. Regret for Andrew for not having the kind of father who would stoop to such a task, regret she’d not had any more children and regret she’d put the kibosh on exploring something more with the sexy contractor.
It seemed her life would be full of regret.
“Now that’s the kind of man you need, D.” Margo’s words jarred her from her pity party.
“I don’t need a man,” Dawn said, shifting her gaze from Tyson and Hunter Todd and zeroi
ng in on Margo, who had plopped down beside the jack-o’-lantern.
“We all need a man, baby,” Margo said, brushing her bright orange-tipped nails on her apron. “You know, for stuff like fixing a car or killing mice in your house or a roll under them sheets.”
“Not me. My track record says differently,” Dawn said, climbing the stairs, heading for the front door. She had to check the sugar cookies baking inside.
“So you got a hold of the wrong ones first. Ain’t all of ’em good ones, baby. I’ve had my share of toads before I found my prince. And let me tell you, he ain’t a prince every day neither. But I’m glad I got him. Don’t close off that door in your life yet, girl.”
Dawn stopped and lowered her voice. “I haven’t put any nails in the door. It’s still unlocked. It’s just not wide open. My life is in shambles right now.”
Margo tilted her head. “Why’s it in shambles? You got a job. You got a family who loves you. You got a man who’s interested.”
“We’re friends.” Dawn felt indignant. Why did Margo always have to meddle? She hadn’t known the woman but four months, and she was always telling her how to do everything.
“Baby, that don’t mean he ain’t interested,” Margo said with a tinge of smile.
“Margo. Damn it. A friend is all I want.” She crossed her arms and glared at the assistant director. How dare the woman remind her of the insane attraction she had for Tyson? They’d been doing great as friends. Just yesterday, they’d sat on the porch, drank lemonade and talked about their favorite TV shows, even quoting some of the one-liners to try to stump each other. They’d laughed so hard, one of the neighbors had peered over a hedge at them. It had been nice. And fun.
Despite that, every second she spent with him made her want him more.
“Well, you tell yourself whatever you need to. But I’ve been around for the past two weeks, and if I lit a match around you two, we’d all go up in smoke.”
Dawn straightened. Margo could feel the sexual tension? Dawn had thought she and Tyson had trampled it down well. Lord knew she’d been trying to play it cool. To stop looking at him so much, to stop thinking about him so much. She thought she had succeeded. Now she knew she hadn’t.
“Look. Tyson’s a great guy, but you know my past. I can’t choose a guy based on mere attraction. Don’t you remember what I told you about Murray? It only took one kiss before he had my ankles over my head.” Dawn lowered her voice. She didn’t want Tyson to hear how easy she’d been. Besides she didn’t want him to know how much he occupied her thoughts.
Margo laughed. “I wish I could get my ankles above my head.”
“You know what I mean,” Dawn sniffed.
“Girl, are you crazy? You didn’t know that man was married. You didn’t cause that whole scene outside the museum. That was on him. Not you. Why you carrying around that guilt? So you screwed up. We all do that.” Margo’s dark eyes flickered in the dying sunlight. She looked like an ancient mystic sent to set everyone straight. But Dawn didn’t want to hear it.
“I can’t help it. I saw his wife’s face. Saw their children. I knew exactly what she felt when she saw me standing there holding her husband’s hand. I knew because I had felt that way, too, when I found another woman’s bra in my own bed. And it wasn’t just Murray. Or Larry. I almost went home with some smooth-talking guy I met the night I signed my divorce papers. Seems I can’t resist a man who makes me feel pretty, Margo. It’s a flaw in my character.”
“Uh, uh, uh.” Margo shook her head. “You’re all mixed up, ain’t you? Letting all those old wounds keep you from living. Life is too short, baby. You’ve got to grab your happiness. But I reckon you ain’t ready to reach out yet.”
Dawn shook her head. Margo didn’t understand how precarious her life felt. She’d had no response to the résumés she’d sent out, and she couldn’t depend on her brother forever. She needed a plan. She needed to catch a break. Not a man. “I need to check the cookies.”
Margo turned her head and looked down the street. “The sun’s startin’ to set. All those goblins and witches gonna be out soon.”
Dawn didn’t answer. She spun toward the door and nearly ran into Tyson.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out to steady her, but then stopped and shoved his hands into his back pockets. He was wearing a plaid button-down shirt and well-worn jeans. His eyes in the last glow of the afternoon shone with brighter intensity. “Avery Long invited me over to his place after church to ride on his trails. You wanna come with me?”
“Riding what?” she asked, crossing her arms so she wouldn’t brush a string from the pumpkin off his shoulder.
“Four-wheelers, you know, ATVs. I’ve been itching to take Gramps’s Grizzly for a spin. Avery’s got several and he told me to bring a friend.” His smile reminded her of the caramel apples she’d made for Andrew. She wanted to taste him. “And since we’re friends…”
His words threw cold water on the forbidden thoughts involving caramel and his mouth. “Well, yeah, but I don’t know anything about four-wheelers…and I’m not sure I want to. What’s fun about driving them around?”
He grinned. “Asks the woman who’s never ridden one.”
Dawn rolled her eyes even though she loved it when he smiled. It made a small dimple appear on his right cheek. “Seriously, what’s so hot about driving around on a glorified kiddie toy?”
She’d seen ATVs on trailers, mud-splattered and dusty, and thought the people in the trucks pulling them were idiots. Splashing through ditches and spinning wheelies sounded like something a moron would do. Or a child. She was a grown woman, not a snot-nosed little kid with Tonka truck fantasies.
“Come with me and find out,” he said, the dimple appearing again. She thought about how it would feel to plant her lips right there on that little indention. Just a little angel kiss.
“Anybody got a match?” Margo’s voice came from behind them. Dawn didn’t miss the amusement within her friend’s question.
Tyson peered over her shoulder at Margo. “What do you need a match for?”
“Just making sure we got one. For the jack-o’-lanterns and such.”
Dawn turned around and propped her hands on her hips. “We have a lighter inside. And did you hear? Tyson and I are going to ride four-wheelers tomorrow afternoon. You wanna come?” What had she committed herself to? She should never have let Margo’s taunts get to her.
Margo blinked. “No, girl, already got my plans set. Me and James goin’ down to the lake and do some fishin’ after church. You two enjoy the day. My old bones couldn’t handle all that jostling around. But I’m glad to see you doing something that ain’t on your agenda.”
Dawn narrowed her eyes at Margo. “I don’t plan everything, Miss Know-It-All. See, I’m being flexible and adventurous.”
Margo grinned. “Mmm-hmm. And it just goes to show you’re taking my advice and grabbing on to some happiness.”
Margo looked way too satisfied, and now, Dawn had roped herself into spending Sunday afternoon with a guy who made her think inappropriate thoughts in the wee hours of the night. “How do you know riding an ATV is grabbing happiness?”
Margo pulled a dead chrysanthemum from the pot sitting at the foot of the steps and shrugged. “I don’t, but I’m thinking you better hold on tight, girl.”
“Don’t worry about her, Margo. I’ll make sure she’s safe. She’ll be back here on Monday morning.” Tyson didn’t know what Margo meant. But Dawn did.
Margot nodded. “You’re the kind to do that. Make sure my Dawn don’t get hurt.”
Tyson narrowed his eyes. “Okay.”
“What time should I meet you at the Longs’?” Dawn resigned herself to going even though it wasn’t an ideal date. Date? Wait. Not a date. An outing with a friend. She reached out to grab the front door handle, worried about the sugar cookies in the oven turning into brown hockey pucks. Standing looking at Tyson’s buttery smile and broad shoulders wasn’t a good enough reason to ruin a batch of
perfectly good cookies.
He gave her a lopsided grin. Okay, maybe it was.
“I’ll swing by and pick you up,” he offered.
She pictured Nellie and Jack standing on the porch, waving goodbye as she slipped into Tyson’s pickup. She could see the look on Nellie’s face. No way. “Don’t bother. It’s out of your way. I’ll meet you there.”
Tyson looked as though he might argue, but then shrugged. “Fine. Let’s meet for 1:30 p.m.”
TYSON STOOD AT THE SIDE of the house, staring at his cell phone. Laurel hadn’t called him back. Again. This was turning into a habit. Hell, it had already been a habit for weeks now and wasn’t going to get any better if he didn’t do something.
He pecked the numbers he knew by heart.
His soon-to-be ex-wife, Karen, answered on the fourth ring.
“We need to talk,” he said into the receiver as he toed the fresh lumber he’d hauled in earlier that morning and stacked beneath the window boxes.
“Tyson,” she breathed into the phone. “I’ve been thinking of you. How are things in that cute little town?”
“Fine. But I don’t want to talk about me. I want to talk about our daughter.”
“Laurel?”
“Do we have another daughter? Yes, of course, Laurel.” He had to tamp down the smart-ass tone that crept into his speech every time he talked to the woman who’d cheated on him with his former business partner. It was hard to be nice. “Sorry. Just worried about her.”
“Ty, she’s fine. Doing better each day. She really wants to come to Oak Stand. But the therapist thinks we need to let her get comfortable with the idea. That’s all. I’ll bring her soon. I promise.”
“I know she’s seeing a therapist, but I’m not sure time away from me is better than forcing her to be with me.”
“See?” Exasperation crept into Karen’s voice. “You use words like force. That’s part of the problem. We don’t need to force her. Let her do things in her own time.”
“No. No more. Next week, she comes to Oak Stand. No excuses. I’m putting my foot down. Now let me talk to her, please.”