Rainy Days and Roses

by Dawn Douglas

  He stepped aside quickly, noticing Olivia for the first time. Faith’s best friend looked exactly the same, with ruffled chestnut hair, her smile full of sweetness and compassion as she hugged him hello. They entered the hall, and Dan hesitated a moment before closing the door behind them. He half expected to see Faith rushing up the path, grumbling about the rain and demanding a cup of tea.

  “I hope you don’t mind us turning up like this, out of the blue,” Poppy said. “I was trying to track you down. I called your mother, and she gave me this address and as we were in the area…”

  “It’s fine.” Dan took their wet jackets and hung them up, hoping they wouldn’t make too much of a puddle on the tiled floor.

  “Oh, what a charming little cottage.” Olivia entered the family room and looked around, taking in the bright throw on the sofa and the books and candle on the coffee table.

  Zelda emerged hesitantly from the kitchen, and the unexpected guests stared.

  Dan made introductions, aware of the awkwardness in his voice. “Poppy is Faith’s twin sister, and Olivia was Faith’s best friend. This is Zelda, my, uh, good friend.”

  “Hello,” Zelda said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  There were nods and smiles.

  Dan asked if they were hungry.

  “Starving, aren’t we, Olivia?” Poppy said. “Dan, do I smell your famous chili?”

  His old life had returned for a visit, and a torrent of bittersweet memories rushed through Dan. He smiled, even as he remembered everything he’d lost forever.

  The house in London he’d shared with Faith had brimmed with friends every weekend. Dan, shyer than his wife, usually prepared chili while she made a salad and kept glasses topped up with wine as the kitchen buzzed with conversation and laughter. He’d come to enjoy those gatherings. Now Poppy and Olivia filled him in on everything he’d missed since he left London, peppering him with questions. Was he ever coming back? Was he selling his business? Did he have any plans?

  He couldn’t drag his gaze away from Poppy, hypnotized by her smile and big blue eyes, by the dimples appearing in her cheeks when she smiled, just as they had in Faith’s.

  “So, how do you and Dan know each other?” Poppy asked suddenly, her gaze on Zelda.

  She’d grown so quiet during the meal Dan had almost forgotten she was there.

  “We’ve known each other since we were children.”

  “And now you’re here to keep him company while he renovates his mom’s cottage. How lovely.” Poppy beamed.

  There was a short silence.

  “It’s great that you’ve stayed in touch all these years,” Olivia said gently.

  Zelda nodded.

  “I finished installing the bathroom tiles today while Zelda painted one of the bedrooms,” Dan said. “This kitchen is next. I’m going to gut it, put in granite countertops and maple cabinets, new appliances.”

  “Brilliant. Can we come back and see it when you’ve finished?” Poppy asked, then went on without waiting for an answer. “Remember when I helped you and Faith redo your kitchen? It was painted a horrible baby poo color when you first moved in.”

  He laughed, the memories flooding back. He’d been so happy that day, newly married, hardly able to keep his hands off Faith long enough to do any work.

  “I thought the striped border would never come off,” Poppy said. “We’d all had a bit too much to drink, remember? And you kept making Faith giggle doing your Elvis Presley impression.”

  Olivia burst out laughing. “Now that I have to see.”

  “Excuse me.” Zelda suddenly rose to her feet. “I’m really tired. I guess I’ll turn in now.”

  “Okay,” Poppy nodded dismissively. “Nice to meet you, Selma.”

  “It’s Zelda.”

  “Goodnight.” Olivia smiled. “It was lovely meeting you.”

  “It’s still kind of early,” Dan pointed out, wondering why she looked so strained and unhappy.

  “I’m tired.”

  “We did work hard today,” he admitted. “Your room won’t still smell of paint, will it?”

  “I’ll be fine. “She smiled politely at them all and left the kitchen.

  “She seems nice,” Poppy said into the sudden hush.

  “She is,” Dan said.

  Olivia started telling a story about her recent holiday in Italy, how she’d gotten lost and had to use her rusty Italian to ask some villagers the way. Poppy produced a bottle of wine, and they all adjourned to the living room where Dan lit the fire. Soon the room was filled with laughter and memories. He was surprised at how good he felt, how remembering Faith and talking about her felt much more sweet than bitter tonight.

  It was past one by the time Poppy and Olivia said goodbye, promising they’d be back. Dan put out the fire and climbed the stairs, warm with happy memories.

  Chapter Ten

  Zelda lay numb with pain, wide awake. She heard the front door open, and a burst of girlish giggles before it closed. Dan’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. For hours she’d been lying in bed with nothing but a hot water bottle for company listening to Dan chat and laugh with two beautiful women. Jealousy was an ugly emotion. Watching Dan gaze at Poppy across the kitchen table had filled her with a dark and bitter resentment. Hearing all the fun going on downstairs, the explosions of laughter, she’d longed to leap out of bed, run into the living room, and scream at Poppy and Olivia to get out.

  Perhaps it was childish and unreasonable for her to be simmering with such humiliation and outrage, but Poppy and Olivia’s visit tonight felt like a gross intrusion. They’d sat at the table, twittering on amusingly in their sexy British accents, making Dan roar with laughter.

  Shoving the quilt aside, Zelda sat up. She would go to Dan right now and tell him how rude, how inconsiderate he’d been to ignore her, tell him she was not going to stand for it. At the door, she stopped and returned hopelessly to bed. Dan would only pity her more than he did already, see her for the big ugly lump she was compared to women like Poppy and Olivia.

  The following morning she made coffee, wretched and bleary after a near sleepless night. The rain had stopped at last, and a ray of sunshine shone half-heartedly through the window and splashed across the table. Zelda glanced around sadly at the kitchen’s uneven walls and the shelves stacked with plates and the narrow pantry by the sink where cans of tomatoes, fruit, and beans stood in orderly rows. As a professional cook, she’d always thought kitchens should be streamlined and efficient, every surface gleaming, each appliance a testament to modern technology. Why did she love this kitchen so much? She had no idea, but soon it would be gone forever, ruthlessly ripped out to make way for granite and stainless steel. Dan just couldn’t wait to get started. Another wave of resentment rippled through her.

  Snuggled on the window seat in the family room, she nursed her mug of coffee and gazed out at the backyard, which had been a tangled, gorgeous mess of overgrown roses, mint and hollyhocks just a few months ago. Next summer the roses would bloom again. But by then she’d be long gone.

  She pressed her cheek against the cool glass. She didn’t belong here. It was time to pack her bags, fly home, and face reality.

  Staring out at the backyard’s resident blackbird determinedly tugging an earthworm from the wet ground, she acknowledged to herself it was time to leave, before she was hurt anymore. It was time to head back to Denver, find an apartment and a new job, check in with her parents, and visit her grammy in Virginia. It was time to forget Dan Walker once and for all. The blackbird triumphantly plucked up the worm and took off, and Zelda wiped away the tear trickling down her face. She blew her nose and went back into the kitchen for more coffee.

  Rain pitter-pattered down again as she filled her cup. The sun shone almost every day in Colorado. Maybe getting back wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Hey,” Dan walked in, yawning. “Is there a cup of that going spare?”

  “Help yourself,” she responded coolly.

  Even though he’d
pulled on a robe over his pajama bottoms, there was something deeply disturbing about seeing Dan all rumpled from his bed. She thought she glimpsed a dark mole above one nipple and quickly looked away.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee. Zelda took hers and settled back on the window seat. Dan followed her. “You didn’t mind Poppy and Olivia turning up last night did you?”

  “Why should I mind?” She stared out the window.

  “I don’t know.”

  “They seemed very nice.”

  “I wish you’d stayed up with us.”

  “I thought I should give you all time alone to talk.”

  He sat beside her on the window seat. Zelda had to shift slightly to make room for him, and she frowned.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “I think it’s time for me to get back to Denver.” She didn’t take her eyes from the backyard. “Start looking for a job.”

  “But...” He shook his head as if he didn’t get it. “Don’t you want to see the house all fixed up?”

  “Actually, I don’t want to see this cottage all fixed up, as you put it. Pippy or Poppy or whatever the hell her name is might think your plans sound great, but I don’t.”

  “I knew you were sulking about something.”

  “I’m not sulking.” She flashed him an angry look. “I just hate the thought of the life and soul being sucked out of this cottage.”

  “And you didn’t like Poppy and Olivia just turning up out of the blue.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I think you’re jealous,” he said. “Jealous I enjoyed being with them last night.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.” She jumped to her feet, and coffee sloshed from the mug and splashed the floor.

  Dan gently but firmly tugged her back down so they were sitting side by side again. “They were a part of my life.”

  “I understand that.”

  “Then why are you acting like this?”

  She didn’t answer him, couldn’t say the words because they were impossible to say out loud. She was in love with him. Not in the starry-eyed, mushy way she’d been as a teen—it was real this time.

  “Poppy invited us for Christmas,” he said. “To Burleigh House, where she and Faith were raised. It’s a huge old English country house. Kind of like Downton Abbey. I said we’d go.”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Okay.” He released his grip on her wrist and slipped his hand into hers. “We’ll just spend a quiet Christmas here at the cottage, shall we?”

  Any minute now she was going to cry. Her eyes ached with unshed tears. “Look, you can spend the holidays wherever you like. I’m going home.”

  She pulled away from him and hurried upstairs. Heart pounding, she dragged on jeans and a sweater. Did he actually expect her to stand by and watch as he flirted and fawned with Poppy at Christmas? Smile as they kissed beneath the mistletoe? Yes, he did because he was completely clueless about her feelings, just like always. And if he ever did guess them, he’d feel nothing but pity for her.

  Zelda stomped downstairs and grabbed her jacket from the coat stand, shaking with emotion as she pulled it on. Dan watched her, still in his robe and pajamas. Rage sizzled through her at his calm expression.

  Oh, she was jealous all right. In fact, green with envy didn’t even begin to cover it. She’d spent half her life wanting Dan Walker, and he treated her like some sort of sweet little pet. She was sick of it.

  “Going out?”

  With a venomous look in his direction she wrenched open the door, only to gasp in shock. The rain had seriously picked up again. Small hailstones pelted down viciously, and in her hurry, she’d pulled on her hoodless, lightweight jacket. But she was damned if she’d turn back now.

  “You’ll get soaked,” Dan said. “For God’s sake…”

  Ignoring him, she stepped outside and slammed the door. It was a childish thing to do, but the gesture gave her a single moment of deep satisfaction. Immediately, she was not only wet, but freezing cold. Gritting her teeth, she proceeded down the path.

  Elsie was hurrying in from the lane. She pushed open her gate, latched it, then caught sight of Zelda. “Why don’t you go back inside and wait for this to pass, my love?” she called out. “You’ll be soaked through.”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine,” Zelda replied, as a gust of wind drove icy shards of hail into her face.

  Behind her, she heard Dan open the cottage door to shout. “What the hell are you doing? You’re going to catch pneumonia.”

  She decided to ignore him.

  Elsie paused to watch, clutching her shopping bag as Dan strode down the cottage path, cursing, the wind tearing his robe from his bare chest. Icy rain soaked his bare skin. The old lady’s mouth fell open.

  “If you want to go into the village, let me get dressed and drive you.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  Something inside Zelda snapped. She whirled around and even now, gripped with fury, she couldn’t help thinking how beautiful Dan was, with his black hair plastered to his head and his muscled chest slick with rain. And she thought of him talking to Poppy and Olivia in front of the fire last night, thought of the empty bottle of wine she’d seen in the trash this morning.

  “Just leave me alone. I hate you!” she screamed.

  “Oh, dear me.” Elsie put a hand to her bosom.

  “Let’s take this inside,” Dan said.

  Pain and anguish rushed through Zelda, gathering force and longing for release. “You didn’t bother to answer a single one of my letters,” she cried out, trembling. “Did you just toss them in the trash unread? After you and your girlfriends had a good laugh over them?”

  Elsie tutted and scowled at Dan.

  “No,” he said. “Never. But what the hell was I supposed to do? You were a kid, for God’s sake. We were friends.”

  “That’s all I’ll ever be to you, right? A friend. Not like those two twittering idiots you spent half of last night with.”

  “You’re not making any sense...” Uselessly, he attempted to wipe at the rain coursing down his face, then pulled his robe across his goose-bumped chest.

  “Do you have any idea how it made me feel when you saw me naked in the bathtub, but you just turned and walked away?” she yelled, staring him down with daggers in her eyes. “Do you have any idea?”

  “We’re going inside.” He strode toward her. “This is neither the time nor the place for one of your tantrums, Zelda Faylene Marshall.”

  She gazed at him wildly, filled with fury and shame and a host of other emotions she couldn’t even begin to name. She shook as something deep inside her broke and all the pain she’d kept so carefully buttoned-up for years burst free. Suddenly she wanted to run away and hide, like a wounded animal.

  “Zelda. Inside,” Dan said tightly.

  “Leave me alone,” she cried, hitting out and almost losing her footing.

  Ignoring her flailing arms, he effortlessly scooped her up and carried her up the path and into the cottage, slamming the door shut behind them. Zelda was shocked into silence.

  “Well done.” He dumped her roughly on her feet. “You just provided enough gossip to last this village a year.”

  “I don’t care. I’m leaving. I’m sick of this place and I’m sick of you.”

  “Upstairs,” he growled.

  “What?”

  He began to bundle her across the family room.

  Zelda dug in her heels. “Let go of me!”

  He simply picked her up again and carried her up the narrow staircase, his feet thumping on the wooden steps, ignoring Zelda’s squeal as she bumped her head on the wall. In the bathroom, he released her, intense fury in his eyes as looked her soaking wet figure up and down. Zelda’s insides twisted. Not with fear, she realized—with desire. It licked through her, searing hot. Her knees almost buckled, and her mouth was suddenly dry. In the narrow confines of
the bathroom everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. She wondered if she was going to faint.

  Dan reached out and pulled at her jacket. A button popped off, pinging against the bathroom wall. He dragged the soaked fabric from her shoulders, then roughly tugged her sweater over her head and tossed it to the floor.

  Zelda stood before him, trembling in her white lace bra and jeans, breathless as she wondered what his next move would be. Never before had she seen him like this. A heady, crazy desire pulsed through her—nothing would be the same between them now. She’d changed everything, forced a leap from the safe territory of friendship into something darker and sweeter and wholly unknown.

  His eyes flicked over her tummy and breasts. She swallowed, suddenly frightened and vulnerable. Then Dan pulled her against him hard and kissed her mouth, a deep and angry kiss, forcing his tongue between her lips.

  She moaned softly as she held onto his shoulders, all sensible thought blotted from her fevered mind. He reached past her and into the shower, switching on the water, and maneuvered them both so they were standing beneath the spray.

  Warm needles of water jetted onto her as Dan tugged at her jeans and she helped him pull them off. He steadied her, his hands hard around her waist, so she wouldn’t slip. Zelda unfastened her bra and shimmied free of it. Then her panties, sliding them down her legs.

  Dan looked at her body, and she shivered as his eyes roamed over her breasts, her belly, the vee of black curls between her thighs. His eyes half-closed, darkened with lust and anger, and his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed convulsively.

  “Dan,” she whispered.

  “What?” he rasped. “This is what you want, right?”

  She nodded slowly. She did want him, she was desperate for him.

  He touched her breasts, squeezing and lifting, bending his head to flick his tongue against her nipples. She closed her eyes, her heart thundering, legs weak, as the water blasted their bodies. She wanted this so much, but she also wanted Dan’s love and tenderness. She’d dreamed of him whispering her name, saying he loved her.