“You’re supposed to spit those out.” Merle reprimanded.
Gabe leveled him a look. “Eat up, we don’t have anywhere to store this.”
Merle shook his head and reached for another slice. “And you’re the guy with the degree.”
* * *
Tess awoke to a dull muted pounding outside her window. She rubbed her knuckles over her closed eyelids and tried to assimilate where the alien noise came from. Surely the birds out here in the country weren’t that loud?
More insistent, the pounding issued again and she realized it was coming from her front door downstairs.
She tossed the quilt off and swung her feet to the cold hardwood bedroom floor, while attempting to call out in a gravelly morning voice. “I’m coming, keep your shirt on.” Coughing she cleared her throat, then stopped and held onto the bedroom doorframe to balance her equilibrium. She scolded herself mentally for staying up until all hours sifting through the homeowner magazines, and old house restoration catalogs. The long hours had taken their toll. Granted she’d also anticipated sleeping in this morning, since it was the weekend. She blinked, refocused on the stairs, and groped her hands along the banister railing to the bottom. The knocking issued once again.
“Good Lord, I’m comin’.” She shook her head in disgust. For someone making a call before dawn on a Saturday morning, they sure were impatient. Something in her muddled thoughts struck a familiar chord.
Pulling open the beveled glass front door, only the wooden screen stood between her and the formidable man who stared openly at her. It was then she realized too late, she was not exactly dressed for visitors.
She followed the path of his gaze from her red flannel boxers to her suddenly skimpy tank top. Trying not to blush at the fact that she wore no bra, she decided this was her house. Women often dressed like this. She’d simply play it down.
“Tess Graham?”
Her insides warmed instantly. She didn’t recall ordering a voice that would melt over muffins for breakfast, but she wasn’t complaining. Play it down, she reminded herself.
“What time is it?” She yawned, holding her hand over her mouth.
“Seven-thirty, ma’am.” His manner was soft, a lot like the quilt she’d just left. Tess blinked again. Funny, the softness of his voice didn’t seem to fit the size of the man.
“In the morning?” She narrowed her gaze and noticed the glittering darkness of his brown eyes beneath the black Stetson that he wore. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and had a flannel shirt thrown on as though he’d grabbed it as an afterthought.
Tess’s eyebrow raised a fraction. His well-worn jeans gave new meaning to the term ‘designer fit.’ Despite her irritation at being awakened at this ungodly hour, Tess had to admit, from her initial assessment, that the man was not at all unpleasant to look at first thing in the morning. Besides, that Stetson looked vaguely familiar.
“Gabe Russell?” She frowned suddenly realizing he was the same man she’d seen in the store.
He tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s Saturday.” Perhaps he’d just forgotten most people sleep in on weekends.
A sudden shy smile appeared on his face, packing a caffeine punch to her system akin to the aroma of a new bag of coffee beans.
He glanced away, looking down at his boot. “If this is a bad time.” Stuffing his hands in his worn jeans, he glanced at her with a charming smile. One she had a feeling wasn’t nearly as innocent as it looked.
“It’s Saturday.” Certainly, that should explain everything.
His grin grew a little wider and he chuckled. “You’re not a country girl, are you?”
She winced with the admission. “Does it show that bad?”
He met her gaze, holding it captive and she swore she saw a twinkle of mischief in those black orbs. Maybe it was the lack of caffeine to her brain cells. He glanced at the floor and gave her a boyish grin. “‘Fraid so, but in all the right places.”
That was a fine wake up call. Tess stepped back in surprise. She grabbed the doorknob, as her feet seemed to lose their ability to hold her in place. “And here I thought that only city boys delivered clever lines.” She peered over his shoulder seeing a large black pickup sitting in her gravel lane. This was getting more and more interesting by the minute. “I’d say this deserves a cup of coffee, how about it…. Was it, Gabe?”
Tess pushed her fingers through her hair, amazed she felt oddly at ease with this stranger. On the contrary, it surprised her that his voice and the man himself were such an intriguing package--not to mention ruggedly hot. She reminded herself; again, she wasn’t looking for entanglements, even if he was a handsome cowboy—especially with a handsome cowboy. She’d made up her mind. Given that, what harm was there in having one cup of coffee with Mr. Espresso eyes.
He paused for a moment before he responded. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble, sure. Thanks.” He pushed his hat up and held her with a curious gaze.
No more curious than she felt, for sure.
“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the porch. I’ll go get dressed and then I’ll get us some coffee.” She stepped back and closed the solid door wondering when she’d gotten so brazen as to invite a total stranger to wait while she dressed. Justifying the jitters in her stomach as hunger pangs, she ran up the stairs two at a time.
* * *
It was the same woman he’d seen in town. Seeing her up close in a baby-tee and flannel boxers was almost worth the ribbing he’d taken from Merle when he came out of the store carrying a twelve pound slightly cracked watermelon on his shoulder.
There’d been a couple of times he’d have sworn she was looking at him at the store, but after a few minutes, he’d lost what little nerve he had to introduce himself. He had no idea she lived here, which stirred up a whole lot of strange sensations.
He sat down hearing the familiar metal squeak of the porch swing’s chain, giving under his weight. The sound brought back memories of days gone by. Simpler times, times that held a special place in his heart.
Gabe squinted as he gazed over the lush green fields and wondered if his pumpkins were blossoming out behind the barn. He’d not been back to water them, but the rain had been plentiful this past spring and summer, so maybe—
He dropped his hat on the porch beside him and closed his eyes as he smoothed back his hair. Those times were long gone now. This used to be his place. This porch swing is where he came to think. The place where he came to get right with the world and cool down from his frustrations of putting his life on hold to care for an ailing father.
The creak of the screen door broke through his thoughts and he turned to see Tess smile as she came out the door. Her face looked freshly scrubbed and apparently, her idea of ‘getting dressed’ was to throw a sweatshirt on over her boxers. Not that he noticed particularly, except what the navy color did to her luminous eyes.
“Cream or sugar?” She held open the door with her foot, her smile friendly as though they’d known each other a long time. It didn’t seem she was the least bit concerned entertaining a stranger in her home (correction his home) Maybe she was one of those women who’d taken those self-defense classes.
“Mr. Russell?”
Her voice interrupted his thoughts. His gaze shot to hers, meeting her curious expression.
“A little milk if it’s not too much trouble.”
Tess shrugged. “No problem.” She let the screen door slam behind her. “Oh!”
He looked toward the door, hearing her voice from inside.
“Here’s the reason you came,” she returned, padding barefoot across the porch. “You’ve got mail.”
She held out three envelopes and it wasn’t until the door slammed a second time, that he realized his hand was suspended in midair. He blinked, trying to refocus his thoughts from the gentle sway of her flannel-wrapped backside as she walked back to the door. He had to get a grip or else he might scare the poor woman, and if not her,
he was doing a damn good job on himself.
Frowning, he sighed and flipped through the letters. “Get more money fast. Need help with extra bills?” He wanted to tear them up in a million pieces and stuff them down the throats of the heartless bastards that evicted him from his home. Gabe’s teeth ground under the stress of his jaw.
“You look like a man deep in thought.”
His gaze darted to hers. He realized he’d been so deep in frustration, he’d not heard her return. She carried two mugs of steaming coffee.
“Here you go.” She smiled, and it caused her nose to wrinkle on one side. He nearly missed accepting the cup from her.
“Thanks, a lot on my mind, I guess,” He blew across the top of his cup, trying valiantly to ignore the soft curve of her thigh as she leaned against the porch rail.
“Oh geez, I’m sorry.” He popped out of the swing like a jack-in-the-box, hovering above her. “This is your porch swing.”
She smiled, slow and easy, those brilliant blue eyes softening. “It’s okay, have a seat.”
Damn, he was having a difficult time ignoring this woman’s amiable nature. He did not expect the tenant that rode in on his misfortune to be quite so pleasant. What did she know about him anyway? Did she have any conscience about the fact that she sat on the very porch railing he and his father built years ago? Gabe held her gaze trying to see if she was mocking him.
“You’re sure?” His gaze moved to her lips blowing the steam from her coffee, and quickly pulled back to her catch her soft smile.
“You look like maybe you need it.” Her eyes were the color of the travel commercials beckoning you to swim in some pristine tropical blue water.
“Need what?” Gabe’s throat, not to mention other areas, tightened. He swallowed against the parched feeling in his throat, scratching at his shirt collar.
“The swing. I find it’s kind of a nice place to think things through.”
She shrugged a shoulder and the oversized sweatshirt dipped, revealing the pale white flesh beneath. He nodded unable to understand what was suddenly happening to him. Maybe being around Mrs. Crane and her advances made him realize how long it’d been since he held a woman in his arms, and felt the intimate contrast of gentle curves to his body.
Gabe reached behind him and found the arm of the swing. He lowered himself slowly, keeping his focus on his cup.
“So what is it you do, Mr. Russell?” She peered at him over the rim of her cup.
“Odd jobs mostly these days.” He glanced to the floor watching a ladybug skitter along toward Tess’s big toe. Not an all-together bad place to be, he thought, then quickly pushed it away.
“I heard you were good with your hands—uh, that you were a good carpenter.”
Gabe looked up and met her wide-eyed look. The corner of his mouth turned up, suppressing a smile to her face turning crimson.
She turned on her heel and headed toward the far end of the porch.
“Well that’s what your friend Travis said, anyway.” Her laugh was light, carefree and he wondered how long it had been since he’d heard a heart so very much alive. He watched her walk away and in spite of himself, he grinned.
“He said that, huh?”
She turned, apparently seeing his grin and blushed again, making him curious as to why she was so nervous around him. Turning away, she continued.
“I could use some help around here. Like I said, I couldn’t pay you much, but I am starting a new job in another week.” She glanced at him with a shy smile, “Well a promotion really.” She hurried on as if not wanting any lull to occur in the conversation. “There’s some repair to be done to the barn.”
Gabe sensed she already had a whole list organized in that pretty head of hers.
“Then there are these trees. Rows and rows of them out there, that I’m not sure what to do with.”
He chuckled quietly. This woman belongs on a farm about like I belong in Time Square.
“Sounds like it could be Christmas trees.” He knew exactly what group of trees she spoke of. He took a healthy swallow of coffee. The woman may have stolen his property, but she could make a great cup of coffee. He glanced up, watching her. Maybe she didn’t look all that ruthless.
“Really? How can you tell?” She leaned on the porch railing as if looking for some tangible proof. “I mean I can see they are evergreen, but why so many of them clustered together in rows?”
Maybe a Lion’s Club Christmas tree sales sign would help? Lord, her innocence was amazing, he didn’t know if she affected him like an older brother or—he glanced at her and watched the breeze lift her short sun-streaked hair. His gaze followed the slim curve of her throat, to where her chin jutted out, making her lower lip pout to a kissable angle.
Nope, she impressed him nothing like at sister. So, what was his impression? Gabe released a quiet sigh between his lips.
He stood, leaving his hat behind and carried his coffee cup with him as he came up beside her on the porch. “If you’ll notice,” he cleared his throat, going into his ‘teaching’ mode. He realized at an odd moment, that he probably sounded very much like his father had when he had explained various aspects of the farm to him. “There are about ten rows, about five to eight feet apart. I’d guess they are about fifteen years old.”
She looked up at him with such wide-eyed wonder that part of him was pleased she seemed genuinely interested, another other part of him—well, he’d just not think about it. He averted his gaze from blatant admiration in her eyes, instead choosing to scan the horizon.
“Did you study forestry?”
Gabe stared at the trees and thought back to the day he and his dad planted them. Game Over. “My dad and I planted those trees. They were one of his many don’t-get-rich-quick ideas.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile, but her gaze was on the trees.
“It must have been hard to leave this place.” There was a far off tone in her voice, almost as though she knew how he felt. But how could she know?
For a moment, he wanted to shed all the anger and guilt slowly eating him alive. He took a deep breath. The aroma of his coffee and her soap fresh skin mingled together causing sensations he knew were completely, unbelievably wrong. It was time to leave.
He drained his cup and handed it to her careful not to touch her fingers in the process, then walked in silence, picked up his hat and headed for the stairs. If he didn’t look back, he would be able to erase the morning from his memory, bury it deep in mending the fence at Roy Powell’s place and not think about how right it felt to be having morning coffee with this woman on what used to be his porch.
“Mr. Russell?” Her voice stopped him in he tracks and caused a slight lurch to his heart. He stood for a moment to gain his perspective before he turned.
“Ma’am?” He watched her place her hand over her mouth, hiding a grin and he frowned. He thought of a morning sunrise and that baffled him.
“No one’s ever called me ma’am, before.” She sat down on the top step and smiled openly at him. “Please call me Tess.”
Hurrying on in a fashion Gabe felt certain was well practiced she spoke again. “So do you think you might be able to squeeze me into your schedule?”
Gabe’s sense warred with his desire to do more than squeeze her into a work schedule. Her friendly grin widened, open and honest and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, surpassing Mrs. Crane’s antics, altogether.
Well, why shouldn’t he help her out? Surely, he could’ve used a friendly hand in his time of need and something told him, had she been around, she probably would have been there. Judging by first impressions, of course. Besides, he could work on the farm and get it fixed up, ready for when she tired of playing country girl and skedaddled on back to the city. By then, perhaps he would have found a way to get his farm back. On the other hand, there was something about this green horn that made him want to keep an eye on her. No telling what kind of trouble she could get into out her all by herself with as little knowledge of farm life
as she had.
It took him about three minutes to assess the situation before he spoke. “Okay, you be thinking about it and I’ll stop by next week and we’ll take a look at what needs to be done.”
She slapped her bare leg and grinned. “Sounds like a plan, Gabe.”
Dad-gum if her nose didn’t wrinkle again.
Gabe realized for about the umpteenth time he was staring at her. He dropped his silly grin, tipped his hat, and climbed into his pickup. All in all, he thought, his first visit back to his…uh, the farm went pretty well. He adjusted his rearview mirror only twice as he rolled down the gravel lane.
Chapter Four
Tess smiled as she watched his truck tear off down the road, and wondered about this mysterious man. There were few men in her life that she could actually label true gentlemen. Aside from her father and random others, the art of showing manners seemed a lost art. She never realized before that she found manners attractive in a man…until this morning. Of course, being honest with herself, she knew it was more than his manners that she found appealing. The man practically radiated country perfection, from his dark sparkling eyes under the Stetson to the way his jeans hugged his lean hips. Even as determined as Tess was about not getting involved with anyone, a woman would have to be dead to not be jarred by that country cowboy.
She settled back on her elbows and gazed up at the clear blue sky. Squinting her eyes against the morning sun, she relished how the billowy clouds floated by. Her whole life lay before her, as endless and beautiful as the summer morning sky. She pulled off her sweatshirt, and wadded it beneath her head as a cushion.
The sun warmed her skin, causing her thoughts to shift to Gabe Russell. His face was rugged, yet in a gentle, handsome way. A man not afraid of hard work probably, yet there was something vulnerable about him as well. Tess threw her arm over her eyes shading them from the heat. His skin was tan, long hours in the sun no doubt, but she was glad he didn’t have one of those hat tan lines striped across his forehead. Her thoughts traveled toward the mental image of her recent visitor, seeing in her mind’s eye, the chiseled curves beneath his cotton t-shirt. She wondered if he was tan all over.
Unfinished Dreams Page 3