“It's been a big, big job, but it’s definitely been worth every single headache,” Chesney said of the project. “I have always known that I love that place. But I don’t think I realized how deeply connected I really am until I left for New York. All I wanted was to escape the city and get back home.”
She told Dalton that until now, she had never felt connected to anything. Finally, she had a place to call home. It wasn’t just a random place, either. It was Chesney Ridge, part of her family, her history, and it was filled with the sweetest memories of her life.
Chesney blinked, realizing that she was again staring across the table at that gorgeous man. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt and dress slacks. His sun-kissed hair was still shaggy around the collar of his shirt. That face, those eyes… She took a deep breath and pretended to focus all of her attention on the entrée. After the second glass of wine, Chesney considered whether she could now ask Dalton, face-to-face, about his history with Grace. How did he know her so well? How many times had he heard Grace say, ‘See you in a moon smile?’ But Chesney chickened out. Instead, she asked about his family.
“My parents recently retired,” he said. “They live in Florida now. My older brother is an engineer. He lives in Ohio with his wife and son.”
During a previous conversation, Dalton had said that his grandfather was his neighbor. She wanted to inquire about the grandfather. She fantasized about the possibility that Dalton might actually be related to Ben, her grandmother’s secret love.
Instead, she asked about his high school and college years.
Chicken shit! Just ask. Do it. Get it over with so you can move past the mystery. It’s driving you even crazier than you already are.
“What about you? Where is your family?” Dalton asked.
“My parents live in the Chicago suburbs,” Chesney said. “I am the oldest child. And their favorite daughter Charlotte lives a few miles from them, with my beautiful niece and my very straight-laced brother-in-law.”
Dalton threw his head back and laughed. “Do I detect some sibling rivalry?”
“Just a little,” Chesney smiled. “My sister has always been the family princess. And I, well, I’m the daughter no one understands.”
“Why?” Dalton leaned across the table, waiting for her response. He seemed to care about what she was saying. His eyes were piercing. She ached for just a moment, wanting more than anything to kiss him.
“I haven’t lived my life the way my family expected me to live it,” she said slowly. “And I must add that I have not done what I expected of myself, either. After college, my sister got married. But I moved for a couple of years to live in Manhattan. My sister has a husband and child. But I have now relocated once again. My sister is a wonderful mother. But I live with my puppy, Blossom, in what my family believes to be a money pit. Get the picture?”
“But you,” Dalton cocked his head, still staring. “What do you believe?”
“I believe, Dalton Moore, that I’m supposed to be at Chesney Ridge.”
“But your family’s problem is…what?”
“When I bought the house back, they decided I was off my proverbial rocker,” Chesney laughed. But then tears suddenly stung her eyes as her gaze met Dalton’s. “I don’t have words to describe how I feel about being here, Dalton. I love that old house. I love every overgrown bush and weed in the yard. I love that mosquito-infested pond. I love how I feel about myself since I mustered the courage to fulfill this dream. I’ve always wanted to be right here in Bean Blossom, and I’m so thankful that everything worked out the way it has. Even if my family thinks I’m insane, it’s okay.”
Dalton barely brushed the top of her hand and Chesney’s skin tingled. His eyes were so soft as he smiled and said, “Your family may not know this, but actually, Chez, I think you’re the true princess in the family.”
“Oh, you’re sweet, Dalton. Thank you,” she smiled and dropped her eyes.
As he poured more wine, the intensity of the moment faded and Chesney noticed how much she struggled when the conversation dipped into serious moments. She didn’t want to spin profound thoughts. In fact, she much preferred an entirely different mood for the evening.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked nicely.
“You really want to know?” When he nodded, Chesney said, “I’m thinking about loud music and a few Jell-o shots. That’s what I’m thinking.”
Stunned, Dalton began to laugh and Chesney fell in love all over again with those cute little crinkles around his eyes. “Waiter,” he said in a low voice. “We need our bill, please. This wild woman is ready to dance.”
A few moments later, his arm was comfortably draped across her shoulders as they walked across the parking lot. “It's a country music bar,” Dalton warned as he pulled away from the restaurant. “It's truly very country. You walk in their dressed this way and you will likely be asked for an autograph. Are you up for that kind of environment?”
Laughing, Chesney rested her head against the passenger window. “After dancing at this bar, I can consider myself a native of Bean Blossom, instead of a transplant, right?”
“Sure,” he laughed.
Dalton was right about the bar. It was a hole in the wall called The Ragged Ass. He was also right about how other people would react to their entrance. Chesney self-consciously tried to offer a half-grin at the blatant stares, hoping to show that she wasn’t trying to show off and didn’t consider herself special. Tucked away on the edge of town, the interior of the bar was weathered barn wood. Wobbly tables were spray painted bright red with mismatched chairs around them. All the drinks were served in Mason jars.
You won’t get a martini or a cosmopolitan in a place like this.
A five-piece country band crowded to perform on the slightly elevated stage and a woman with big hair and bad teeth belted out some Patsy Cline and Tammy Wynette favorites. The band members, dressed in matching denim shirts and with red bandanas around their necks, added harmony on cue. While Chesney watched the band, Dalton ordered Jell-o shots and beers. When the order arrived, they toasted Chesney Ridge with the shots.
“Care to dance?” he asked over the noise. Without waiting for her answer, he reached for Chesney's hand and led her to the crowded dance floor.
As Dalton placed one arm around her waist and one hand in hers, Chesney trembled inside. He pulled her close enough to talk softly in her ear about the band members. Each time he whispered who they were, where they lived, and how long they had provided entertainment here, chills shot down her spine. She pretended to care about the musicians and their different stories. But all she really wanted was for Dalton Moore's breath to stay hot against her ear. She wanted him to think about what it might be like to kiss her. Heck, she would even let him blame it all on the Jell-o shots. But Dalton didn’t appear interested in romance. He sang the songs along with the band. And Chesney decided that while she had assumed this was a date, that wasn’t how Dalton seemed to view the evening. His interest in her was strictly friendship. He had been a bit flirty over dinner, but now he was back to being kind and happy. No funny stuff. Not one single time did he accidentally on purpose allow his hand to slide too far down her back to land on her ass. Not one time did he nip at her ear or nuzzle her neck.
By midnight, they were both yawning. With the window rolled down enough to feel the cool breeze, Chesney stared out at the clear, starry sky as Dalton drove her home. He was quiet and seemed preoccupied. Maybe he was worried that she expected more than dinner and a couple of slow dances with a friend. Well she would reassure him. She would lie until her last breath. Chesney knew, before Dalton parked by the barn, that she would insist they were only good friends. She would not bring up the fact that she was attracted to him, that she wanted to be in his arms, that she wanted to love him.
She dared only for a second, to glance across the truck seat. His jaw was firmly set. His mind appeared to be on anyone else but his passenger. No, there was no reason for a heart-
to-heart talk. Obviously, she was mistaken. The twinges she felt when they touched weren’t mutual. No matter how sad it was to admit it, Chesney had to realize that this was not a mutual attraction. His touch was intoxicating to her. But her touch apparently ranked right up there with a hug from his grandma. Chesney felt so humiliated, she wanted only to get inside the house before Dalton saw her cry like a big baby. Dreaming up a love affair with Dalton was exactly that, a dream.
“Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?” She asked the question half-heartedly. She asked only as a mannerly gesture, knowing full well that Dalton would decline. She would nicely say good-bye as she exited his vehicle and wait until she got into the kitchen to crack up and bawl her head off.
“Sure,” Dalton said unexpectedly.
Her head snapped around to face him. “What?”
“Yes I’d like a cup of coffee,” Dalton said slowly. “If that’s still okay with you.”
Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. He’s getting out of the car and walking to the house. I have been drinking. In fact, I have been drinking a lot. I don’t mind to admit that I am fairly shit-faced. Oh Lord, please don’t let the Jell-o shots start talking for me. Don’t let me make a pass at this hunky handyman and ruin our friendship.
Damn it. She was too drunk to get the stupid house key in the lock. “I have a confession,” she said with a slight slur. “I haven’t had Jell-o shots since college.”
“It’s okay,” Dalton laughed. “You’ve been through a lot. You deserved a night to let your hair down.”
After Dalton opened the door, Chesney managed to get to the coffee pot without stumbling, discovered that she had left her cell phone on the counter all evening and pressed the button to speaker so she could listen to messages.
“Okay, so I am beginning to take it personally, Chez. You never call back. I leave all kinds of messages and you never return my calls. What’s up with that?” It was Charlotte, the Chosen Child.
“Your sister?” Dalton grinned.
Chesney nodded, rolled her blood-shot eyes and waited for the next message. “Ms. Blake, this is Art Sampson. I’m calling about the window treatment order on our website. Please respond as soon as you...” beep. She deleted the message. She’d decided a month ago that she didn’t want that fussy stuff on these large, lovely windows. She walked across the kitchen to remove yet another shoe from Blossom’s grip and made a quick dash to use the bathroom while the coffee perked.
“Chez, oh, my Gawd. It’s after midnight and you’re not answering!” Even from the bathroom, Chesney could hear that Becca’s voice was amplified all over the kitchen on the speaker phone. “Do you remember what I have always told you about the right kind of man, Chez? I’ve told you, Girlie, that any man worth his salt...”
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh, my gawd!!!
She had never quite achieved the ability to control a potty break. There was no way to stop herself mid-stream. She either sat right there on the toilet and allowed her bladder to empty for what seemed like four days or she peed her pants making a run for the cell phone.
Becca’s laugh was rich in the air. “Any man worth his salt will search nonstop until he finds that magical clitoris. A good man will bond with your clitoris and get to know her very well. In my opinion, Chez, the hot handyman looks like he knows how to trip your trigger, if you know what I mean. And when he does, you will finally know why a big sex fest is such a big deal.”
Oh, my gosh, I am mortified.
Chesney tiptoed out of the bathroom and leaned against the parlor wall, not knowing how she could possibly face Dalton after Becca had just shouted to the entire world that Chesney knew absolutely nothing about her very own clitoris. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if she could somehow spin that message to be about something else.
Shit. Oh… Shit.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Dalton’s voice forced her eyes open. And there he stood, peeking at her from the kitchen doorway. He said again that she should not be at all embarrassed. But Chesney’s face felt like it would burn off. “Coffee’s on,” he grinned and grabbed her elbow. “You want sugar and cream? How about a snack? That wouldn’t be a bad idea, you know. It might help with tomorrow morning’s hangover.”
He poured the coffee and scrounged through the cupboard until he found some cookies. He warmed them in the microwave, took one and placed a couple on a saucer for Chesney.
“Wow, I, um, I don’t know how to tell you how awkward this feels,” Chesney breathed. “Or how loudly I will yell at Bec next time I talk to her.”
“You forget that I worked on a college campus and I have female cousins. I know a lot more about women than you might think,” Dalton smiled again. “In fact, I think women talk a lot dirtier than guys do.”
Aw, damn. His possible wish that I was some kind of debutante is now down the drain.
“Okay, well, I apologize anyway,” Chesney said in a near whisper. “Obviously, Bec thought I’d be the only listener when she left that message. I hope I have not embarrassed you even a tiny bit as much as I have embarrassed myself.”
“It’s fine,” Dalton grinned again, sipped his coffee and looked up at Chesney for a long moment. “Hot handyman, huh?”
Chesney covered her face, half laughing, half humiliated.
“Alright,” Dalton said. “No more teasing. I can see it’s a little too soon to joke about it. So, okay, let’s talk about something else.”
He shared some history about the town of Bean Blossom, drained his coffee cup and said, “I’ve probably overstayed my welcome.”
Oh, no you haven’t. You haven’t yet made one step toward my bed.
With Blossom romping around in the weeds, Chesney followed Dalton outside to the edge of the porch and lingered there to gaze at the moon. She wanted a perfect moment to ask Dalton where he heard 'see you in a moon smile.' Even though she knew damn well where he’d heard that phrase, she needed to fill in the blanks. She needed to know how in the world he was woven into Grace’s life without Chesney ever knowing about it. Once Dalton answered a few questions, the mystery would be solved. The great anxiety would end, and she would somehow recover from this incredible infatuation with the handyman.
“It's a beautiful evening,” Dalton said.
Chesney could feel his presence behind her. She imagined him gently turning her around to face him. She imagined his hands on her shoulders. He would bend ever so sweetly to barely graze her lips. Against her neck, she would feel his breath. In a whisper Dalton would finally declare his love. His body would press against hers in a passionate frenzy. Her dress would be ripped. Buttons from his shirt would fly.
“I'm glad I got the gutters cleaned,” he said. “When the leaves start to fall in the next week or two, we'll have more than enough work to do, with all the raking.”
Well, you can't get more unromantic than that, Dalton, you big ass. I’m staring at the moon, hoping you carry me up the stairs to my bed. I’m right here beside you, fantasizing my ass off. Dreaming that you’re a much more adorable version of Fabio, and what the hell do you do? You act like friggin’ Fred Flintstone.
Somehow she managed to offer a verbal grunt of agreement about the stupid gutters, just so she wouldn’t look even more like a love starved loser.
“Did you enjoy the evening?” he asked.
“Very much,” Chesney smiled weakly, but tried to rally anyway. “Dinner was delicious. Dancing was fun. It was a really great evening. Thank you so much, Dalton. It was really nice to go out.”
An uncomfortable feeling twirled though her body. There it was again, that electrical static, that feeling she thought she shared with Dalton. But apparently, Chesney was the only prisoner of passion. Mr. Handyman was fast looking like he was just about as romantic as a door knob.
Well, I'm done with this teenager shit, Dalton. I won’t be making a fool of myself for you anymore this evening or any other time. I get the message loud and clear. Whatever I dreamed up in my head was just false hop
e fluffed up by meaningless bullshit.
She could feel Dalton's eyes on her, which immediately made Chesney feel fidgety. She tossed a lame comment into the air in an effort to break whatever kind of spell Dalton might spin around her heart. “I enjoyed the bar,” she said. “It was like participating in a music video, all those people singing along. I need some cowboy boots, though. I saw immediately that I’m not following the dress code for this neck of the woods.”
“They are good people,” Dalton said. “Hard-working, honest, country people.”
“Maybe that's one of the reasons why I like to be here,” Chesney nodded. “I feel safe here. I feel accepted. I'm not really an outsider since my Granny Grace left her footsteps for me.”
“She certainly did,” Dalton said with a nod and a grin.
Another long silence held the air still between them. In her head, Chesney tried out a few fast excuses. Without hurting his feelings, she just wanted to get away, end the agony. He would leave and she would soak in the tub where she was safe to feel sorry for herself. Every time she worked up the nerve to look at him, Dalton’s eyes studied hers. “Did you want to say something, Dalton?” Chesney finally asked.
He stared for a long moment and once again, Chesney’s mind returned to the dream. With no warning, he would simply reach out and kiss her passionately, right here, right now, in the middle of the overgrown yard, against this old picnic table, which was covered with bird shit.
“I was wondering…” Dalton said slowly.
“Yes?” Chesney could barely breathe. Her cheeks flushed. She wondered if Dalton knew CPR. She might require his emergency assistance if her heartbeat increased much more.
“Do you…”
“Yes?” She couldn’t stop herself. She took a tiny step toward him.
“Do you, do you want the door facings stained or painted?” he finally said.
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