by Jillian Hart
Evan remained motionless. “I guess I never much thought about that.”
Okay, I guess that’s answer enough. She was making way too much of this. No wonder he was staring at her as though he was in the greatest pain. He was put out. She’d never been to his place before, although she drove past his driveway numerous times every day.
She’d never been much more than a distant acquaintance with him, despite the fact that they’d had teenage sons in sports and school and church groups together. He’d asked her to come to a Bible study with him, not exactly the full-blown date she was making this out to be. What do you bet he’s really regretting asking me to go with him now?
It was time to fix what mess she’d made and retreat. “I hope you’ll accept this in good faith. Are you still thinking about coming to this week’s Bible study?”
“Couldn’t say.”
“I don’t want you to miss out because of how I’ve behaved.”
“That’s not it. Really.” Okay, that wasn’t exactly the truth, Evan thought as he fought the blinding pain hacking through his spine, but it was close enough. Now he wasn’t sure if he would go. What if his back was still out? At least he could salvage his pride. “It was nice of you to stop by. Are you working at the diner tonight?”
She looked flustered. And if it was possible for Paige to look lovelier, then she certainly did now. A delicate pink bloomed across her cheeks and nose from the cold but also from her emotions as she glanced longingly in the direction of her vehicle. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll let you get back to your shoveling. Want me to put this on the step for you?”
Since he didn’t want to admit he couldn’t move, he nodded and made a grunt that would pass for a “yes.” He gave thanks that he wasn’t blocking the pathway to the porch because a herd of rampaging buffalo couldn’t have forced him to move an inch out of the way.
Trying not to breathe too deeply and not to force his spine to move in the slightest, he prayed, God, please let this pain end. He wasn’t sure if he was asking for relief from the physical or emotional agony.
He could tell Paige thought he was mad at her. That he was holding against her the fact that she’d turned him down. How did he admit that he had bigger problems, like the ability to stand tall the way a man should and not whimper? Stand tough, Thornton. It’s only a little back pain.
Determined to maintain mind over matter, Evan tilted his head in her direction. The resulting strain on his lower spine wasn’t too bad. Encouraging. Maybe he could fix this situation he’d found himself in with a few kind words. “That’s mighty decent of you, Paige, to come all this way.”
“It’s all right. I owe you, too, for recommending Phil. He walked me through the first phase of repairs he wants to do, and I know he’s given me an extremely low price. I suspect that might have something to do with you.”
“I just told him how hard you work to keep that diner going and supporting your family is all. Phil’s a family man. He knows what that takes. I’m glad you’re happy with him. After all, your diner is where I eat most of my dinners these days.”
“I wouldn’t want that to change. Or for you to feel as if you couldn’t risk coming in and seeing me behind the counter.” She slipped the sack on the top step of the porch, and even in her layers of winter wear, she moved like poetry. Lithe and limber and graceful.
He felt it again, that overwhelming impulse gathering on his tongue. Just like before. He wanted to stop her from leaving. He wanted to ask her to stay, and he already knew her answer. She had a diner to run, she wasn’t interested, she didn’t date and she probably thought he was a dud for standing as still as a rock in his front yard. Somehow he managed to keep the words inside as she swept past, leaving a strange impression like a touch to his soul. He didn’t breathe freely until she was safely buckled behind the wheel of her Jeep and backing up to turn around in the driveway.
As he watched her vehicle’s taillights blink red in the gathering dusk, he felt the pain return in full force. The wintry wind sliced through him as if he were standing outside only in his drawers. He shivered, but it wasn’t only the physical cold he felt. Or only physical pain.
Why, God? Are you trying to tell me something?
Maybe it was just loneliness, Evan reasoned, but that didn’t explain that he’d never experienced this feeling around any other woman. No other had ever made him want to set aside the disaster Liz—and marriage—had brought him and try again. Because, he couldn’t help thinking, loneliness was another kind of painful disaster in a man’s life and maybe, with a different woman, a better woman, the outcome might be different, too.
He thought of what Phil had with his Marie. He thought of other people who seemed happy in their relationships. As Paige’s Jeep pulled toward the last corner in the driveway, ready to disappear around a large stand of fir trees at the bend, he wondered if she ever wished for a different life and for someone to love, too.
Alone, in the quiet hours of the night, when no one could hear or know, and when the sting of loneliness seemed the greatest, did she, too, wish for a marriage that could work, for a happy connection to another? For that special kind of love you read about and saw in movies, a gentle, welcome place?
The shovel slipped from his fingers and thudded to the ground at his feet. Before he remembered his back, he automatically tried to bend to pick it up and then realized, as the vicious pain axed through his disk, that he couldn’t move. Right. Only thinking about a woman could be powerful enough to make a man forget about a slipped disk.
Agony wrenched through his spine. He couldn’t stand here forever, that was for sure, but he didn’t seem able to move either. The Jeep’s taillights disappeared from his peripheral vision and he was utterly alone.
The tap, tap of the falling snow, the whisper of the wind through the trees, the solemn feeling of a winter’s cold settled around him.
Okay, he was tough. He could handle a little back pain. All it was going to take was a little willpower. And, he thought, a little prayer. With Herculean effort, he shuffled his boot an inch and shifted his weight. Since it was progress, he didn’t complain.
Any second now his back was going to release, his spine was going to snap painfully back into place and he’d be able to get back in the house like the man he was, the man who worked out at the gym five days a week.
That second just hadn’t happened yet. But he was a patient man. He dragged his left leg, enduring the pain traveling through his hip and down his thigh, and inched closer to the walkway.
That’s when he heard the roar of an engine, muffled through the heavy curtain of snow. Maybe Paige was having problems with drifted snow on the driveway. He hoped she made it back to town safely. He thought about heading in her direction just to make sure she didn’t need help, but then he realized that by the time he made it all the way down the mile-long driveway, it would be midnight. She was a competent woman; she seemed as if she could handle anything.
He liked that about her. He liked the idea of being with a woman who was strong enough to face life’s hardships. He liked a lot of things about Paige McKaslin, and he didn’t want to. A man ought at least to have control of who he liked and why, but in this one instance, it seemed out of his hands.
Suddenly, the wind changed and brought with it the alarming sense that he wasn’t alone. He knew who was standing in the driveway behind him. He knew, because apparently he wasn’t in control of this either, of how his and Paige’s lives were currently intersecting.
“Having problems, there, tough guy?”
“I hope you’re not mocking me. My dignity’s taken enough blows as it is.”
“You can stop pretending. I was so busy watching you in my rearview that I didn’t watch where I was going. I’m caught in a drift. You could have plowed your driveway, you know.”
“If I’d gotten out the tractor, then I wouldn’t have thrown out my back.”
“You never know. A big, muscle-bound man like you is bound
to have one weakness.”
She was next to him, grabbing hold of his arm. She was a tall woman, taller than he’d first thought, but he realized, her slenderness was deceptive. She might look willowy, but there was no mistaking the strength in her grip as she helped him take another step.
Too bad his brain wasn’t working right, because all he could think was, She thinks I’m big and muscle-bound. He really shouldn’t be glad about that, right?
“I have no weaknesses that I’ll admit to.”
That made her laugh, and it was a pleasant sound. Not brassy or fake, but low and pleasant like a kitten’s purr. “That’s just like a man. Never show your vulnerable side. I know. It’s why my son drives me nuts.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“No.” She laughed again. “Can you get up the stairs, or will I have to carry you?”
“I’d like to see you try.” He weighed two hundred pounds. She couldn’t be more than one twenty-five. “There’s no sense putting your back out, too.”
“My lumbar disks thank you.”
“You have a bad back, too?”
“I like to blame it on carrying heavy trays of food for about two decades, but since I don’t like to admit I’m over thirty-five, I can’t use it as an excuse.”
“You don’t need the excuse, Paige. You don’t look a day older than thirty.”
“Careful. We’ll be lucky if a bolt of lightning doesn’t streak from the sky and strike us where we stand.”
“No lightning, see?” He dragged his foot onto the bottom step, refusing to lean on Paige because he was no weakling, and did his best not to let on that the pain was killing him. “I wasn’t lying. You’re an amazing woman. You’re lovely and you know how to cook some of the best—”
Lightning seared through the storm, arrowing like a bright finger from heaven to the trees behind the house. There was an explosion of thunder above and the crack of a pine tree beyond, and then there was utter silence.
Paige started to laugh. “I can’t believe it. Lightning struck.”
“Now don’t go taking this the wrong way, Paige. You might think I wasn’t telling the truth, but I was. Why else would I have asked you out? I haven’t done that since I was in college. I told you that.”
What was it about this man’s low rumbling voice that seemed to knock all common sense right out of her? Paige wanted to believe him, she really did, because she hated to admit it, but Evan Thornton—the man and not the customer—was starting to grow on her.
He could make her laugh, and she’d never appreciated the importance of a sense of humor in a man before. Tiny laugh lines crinkled around his handsome eyes, and it had a devastating effect.
Not that she could let it affect her. He was handsome, he was distinguished, and he was no thrill-seeking teenager. Not this man who’d built this fine house and made it a secure home for his young boys to have grown up in.
It took a lot of character to be the parent that stayed. A lot of strength to handle the hard—although rewarding—parts of being a father. And this man looked as if he could weather anything with good humor to boot—even the back pain that he was too proud to let her see full-force.
She knelt to snatch up the diner’s sack and propped open the storm door, since the handle was on her side. But Evan was taking none of that. Apparently no woman helped him. He seemed to be all male pride and ego as he grabbed the door and held it for her, even though his face went white from the strain.
“I hope you don’t mind if I use your phone. My cell isn’t working with this storm.” She stepped into the warmth, grateful for it, but not expecting the rush of tenderness for the stubborn, strong, unyielding man who limped in after her.
Men. She’d forgotten there was a lot of good in them, too. And wasn’t that the danger?
Chapter Seven
Evan craned his back the few necessary inches so he could reach the door and shut it against the shower of snow. Pain exploded once again in his lower back and, with the scrape of bone against his disk, his back was relatively back in place. Residual pain shivered through his left leg, but he gave a prayer of thanks heavenward.
“Oh, that was your back?” Paige must have heard the popping sound. Her rosebud mouth had softened into a concerned O, and sympathy shadowed her deep-blue eyes. “Evan, you need to get some ice on that. Do you have some anti-inflammatories?”
He couldn’t answer. He could only stare at her as she set down her sack and her purse and untied her coat’s hood. Coming closer as if naturally meaning to help out. He’d been facing problems—even something as minor as a strained back—alone for so long, he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around it. She was coming at him and in the half-light of the foyer she looked mysterious, cloaked in shadow, but also warm and vibrant with life, her heart showing vulnerable and open.
“You’ve got to give that some rest. Let’s get you into the living room. Is it this way?” Again she took his arm, but he couldn’t stand to let her think he was weak. He intended to shake his arm away from the warm, firm grip she had, but he couldn’t stand that idea either. “I’m all right. It’s been a while since you’ve been around a wounded man, right?”
“Oh, you don’t want my help. Fine. Limp into the living room all on your own steam and I’ll get some ice for you. Unless you’re too stubborn to let me do that for you?”
“You think I’m amusing. I can tell. Your eyes are sparkling.”
“The male gender can be very amusing. Sometimes.” She released him, trouble quirking her soft mouth into a sweet smile. “Or maybe I just like to see a man suffering. It’s appropriate.”
“Hey, I’m one of the good guys.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.” She left him to his own maneuvering.
Good thing. He didn’t think he could keep pretending everything was all right. He limped over to the sectional in the living room. The crackling fire sent warm soothing radiant heat over him. He was frozen clear through, but that seemed the least of his worries.
His back was aching like a cracked tooth, and he sighed with relief as he eased onto the cushions. The fire’s warmth enveloped him like an electric blanket. The tension in his back eased up a bit. Much better.
“Here’s an ice pack.” She bustled through the house with the same snappy efficiency that she used in the diner. “I’ve got two anti-inflammatories, a glass of water. If you want, I can heat up the dinner I brought over while I wait for the tow truck. Sound good?”
“Paige, you’re not on duty here. This is my home. You don’t need to wait on me.”
“I don’t mind.” She handed him a sealed plastic bag of ice, wrapped in a kitchen towel, and set the glass and ibuprofen caplets on a saucer on the coffee table. “I’ll be right back.”
Why would any man leave her, he wondered, not because she was fetching him what he needed, but because she was so caring about it. It was easy for him to see the real Paige, the woman with a big heart she seemed to be afraid to show to the general public. She was a private person, he realized. Was she, he wondered, as lonely in her life as he was?
He popped the pills and washed them down with a swallow of water. As he positioned the lumpy ice pack against the small of his back, he could hear her in the kitchen. The whisper of cabinet doors opening. The clink of plates and the rustle of the big paper sack.
It had been a strange sensation to see a woman in his house bustling around and taking care of things. Fortunately it didn’t bring back memories of Liz, because she’d never been the efficient, get-things-done type.
What it made him think of was, not the past, but the present. How good it was to hear the movements of another person in this way-too-big house. How comforting it was to hear the gentle pad of a woman’s footsteps and gentle voice in the other room.
Yearning filled him. It was a sweet and rich longing, and more powerful than he’d ever known before. A longing for what he didn’t really believe in. And yet it felt right there within his reach. Being with
a woman—a wife—in a way that was compatible and companionable, but it was more than that. Not just love of the heart but of something deeper.
And exactly why was he thinking this way? His back must be hurting worse than he thought, to make him so sentimental.
“Bad news.” She returned with a plate full of dinner salad glistening with Italian dressing. “The tow truck isn’t going to be here any time soon. I’d be better off hoofing it back to town.”
“I could take you.”
“My rig’s blocking your driveway.” She slipped the plate and the paper napkin and fork onto the coffee table in front of him. “I’ve got a call in to Alex. He can finish up his dinner at the church and come rescue me.”
“I think I can handle freeing up your Jeep. I’ve got a winch on my truck. It’ll be no problem.”
“And what about your back?”
“It’s fine. Just a little stitch, that’s all.”
“Sure it is, tough guy.” Paige wasn’t fooled one bit. “What is it with you men? You can’t show an ounce of weakness?”
“Exactly. Never let your guard down. I bet you know something about that.”
“Okay, now you’re getting too personal.” She wasn’t sure what to do with Evan Thornton. He sat there with his hair tousled, looking about as rugged and welcome as a dream man, but he was real and sincere. She liked him. She didn’t want to, but she did. “I don’t want my reputation as an ice queen ruined. It’s kept all those bothersome suitors away for years.”
“Why would you want that? You like being alone?”
His question surprised her like a right hook and her knees wobbled. She sank to the couch, not at all sure what to say with her heart jackhammering in her chest, and Evan’s gaze unwavering. It felt as if he saw too much of her, and she wasn’t sure how to stop him. “Now you are being way, way too personal.”