“I like the one guy’s outfit.” Bree pointed to one of the sons-in-law who sported the kind of high-waisted plaid shorts Drew’s grandpa used to wear in the summer. This guy’s getup was complete with brown leather sandals worn with black socks.
She’d said it with such a straight face he had to look twice to be sure she was kidding. The gleam in her eye said she was definitely kidding. Still, he didn’t mind looking twice. Bree Whitman was pretty easy on the eyes. She’d taken her hair out of the ponytail, and it spilled over her shoulders in honey-colored waves.
For the next half hour, they stood on either side of the window watching—ready to duck behind a curtain should one of the guests catch them. As the sun set behind the trees, he and Bree kept up a running commentary. Her remarks were directed at the guests’ attire, while he provided color commentary on their athleticism—or lack thereof.
By the time the croquet game was over, Bree was laughing so hard he was afraid the guests would hear her.
The doorbell rang, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. They composed themselves and went together to answer the door.
They had their spiel down pat by now and got the newly arrived guests moved into their room—a newly married couple, judging by the fact they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other—before showing them out to the meadow where a game that only slightly resembled volleyball was in progress.
The newlyweds had asked if they could take Huck out with them, and Drew and Bree jumped at the chance to let the dog out. The sky turned from blue to pink to gray, and fireflies began to flitter just above the meadow grasses. The two youngest kids chased after them, squealing like little pigs, with Huckleberry in hot pursuit.
Apparently content that their guests were taken care of, Bree turned to him. “You ready to start on tomorrow’s breakfast?”
“Whenever you are. Are we making the same stuff as last night?”
“Yes. But tomorrow night we’ll have to make something new. Audrey doesn’t like to serve the same thing twice to any guests.”
“Seriously? I wouldn’t mind eating that Bundt cake every day for the rest of my life.”
Laughing, she started for the kitchen.
“I’ll get that little Bundt pan ready.”
He wasn’t taking any chances she might forget the sample cake.
30
Okay. All the doors are locked and the lights are out except the ones Audrey said to leave on.” Drew stood at the door to the basement. He looked tired, but that didn’t keep him from looking handsome as all get out.
Bree curbed a sigh. It had crossed her mind as she drove out to the inn Saturday morning that this time with Drew might cure her of the crush she had on him. Might even make her appreciate Aaron more. But it had done the opposite.
She’d been in love before. She knew what it felt like. She wasn’t sure a person could really fall in love in a few weeks time. Not the kind of love that should grow for someone you intended to spend the rest of your life with.
But if someone told her she had to marry Drew tomorrow, she would have said yes without asking one question.
“Anybody home?”
She snapped out of her reverie. “Sorry. I’m wiped out.”
“Yeah. Me too. Is there anything else we need to do?”
“Nope. We’re good to go. And we’d better get to sleep because five thirty is going to come awfully fast.”
He got halfway down the stairs, then turned around and came right back up. “Bree?”
“Yes?”
“Are you sure you’re okay with me staying here? I mean . . . for appearances sake, and everything?”
She laughed nervously. “I think I’d be a little scared here by myself.”
“By yourself?” He snickered. “There are fifteen people in this house.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess there are.” She looked sheepish. She wouldn’t tell him that if he left she would feel alone despite the fifteen guests sleeping upstairs. Instead she said, “I think since Grant and Audrey came up with the sleeping arrangements, you’re okay to stay. Besides, you don’t really think I’d let you leave the premises and risk you not getting back here by five thirty sharp, do you?”
He groaned and gave her that grin that melted her. “Sleep tight.”
“You too. Hey? Is your alarm set?”
“Yes, Mother.”
She laughed. “Sorry. I just don’t want to be up here making breakfast all by myself when that crazy crew comes down in the morning.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. Just one more day of this and we’re home free.” He trotted down the stairs, waving behind him.
She wished he hadn’t said that. She didn’t think he meant anything by it, but she didn’t want to be “home free.” She wished this weekend could go on and on.
She walked through the darkened house one last time before heading up to the master suite on the third floor.
Even though they had two floors between them, it felt strange to be sleeping in the same house as Drew. No doubt, the thoughts she was having about him were to blame.
And she had a feeling he was fighting the same kinds of thoughts. If they spent too many more hours together, she might have to send him home at midnight tomorrow.
* * *
Drew slapped at a mosquito before pulling his lawn chair to the edge of the deck and propping his feet on the railing. A silver sliver of moon seemed perched in the top of the trees down by the creek. And he could just catch a fragrant whiff of the blueberry muffins and cinnamon scones he and Bree had pulled out of the oven a few minutes ago.
Day Three, and things had gone surprisingly well. He’d even had time this afternoon to do some odd jobs Grant had laid out for him down at the cottage. He had the sawdust in his hair to prove it.
The Farrigan family had proven quite adept at entertaining themselves, and even though they were a noisy bunch, they seemed to be having a lot of fun together. They were a slightly weird family, but he envied their camaraderie.
Everything he and Bree had made for breakfast had turned out well, they’d gotten the laundry done and beds made up in record time, and they’d made it through the day with nothing in the house broken, burned, or overflowed.
They’d exchanged high fives more than once today, and the two of them had talked non-stop while they worked. They’d talked so much, in fact, that he was a little surprised to realize he couldn’t wait for her to join him on the deck so they could talk some more.
If it was any other girl, any other time or place, he would be trying to figure out a way to hold her hand, kiss her. Tonight. Yet, she’d told him weeks ago that she wasn’t available, and she hadn’t said anything that made him think otherwise. Despite her being in full-on flirting mode today. He wasn’t imagining that.
Of course, she could have said the same about him.
Drew wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing. He didn’t like girls who were already spoken for flirting with other guys.
Yet with her, there was something so guileless about her. She hadn’t said word one about that Aaron guy from work, yet she seemed so transparent. Like what you saw was exactly what you got with her. And that, he liked in a woman.
Just not so much in another man’s woman.
Tonight all was quiet, since the family reunion crew had gone into Cape Girardeau for a concert at the Show Me Center on campus. Bree was inside fixing popcorn and lemonade. He’d offered to help, but she shooed him out of the kitchen with instructions to save her a seat.
He smiled and slapped at another bug. Something about seeing Bree Whitman be so domestic lit his fire. He wouldn’t dare tell her that, but the role was very becoming to her. He could see why she was so good at her job as an event planner, too. She had a way of orchestrating things without making them feel “staged” and a way of making people feel welcomed and valued. Him included.
He heard the door open behind him and turned to see her juggling a large popcorn bowl in the crook
of one elbow and an icy glass of lemonade in each hand. Huckleberry trailed after her and plopped down between the lawn chairs Drew had pulled to the rail.
He jumped up to close the door behind Bree. “I thought you said you’d never worked as a waitress.”
“Never did. But I may have discovered a new calling.”
He waved a mosquito away from his face and took the popcorn bowl from her before plopping back in his chair. “Hey, you’re going to want some insect repellant.”
“No thanks. They never bother me.”
“What?”
“Bugs don’t bother me.”
“How can that be? They’re eating me alive right now, and I doused myself with the stuff.”
She shrugged. “Too sweet, I guess.”
He laughed. “You are pretty sweet.”
She handed him his drink. “What brought that on?”
He didn’t know how to answer. He’d shown his hand more than he intended. But maybe it was time to lay everything out. He was feeling bolder in the darkness now than he had this afternoon when he’d first wanted to broach the subject.
He cleared his throat, then looked up at her. “I thought you had a boyfriend?”
She shrugged, looking . . . embarrassed? Smug? He couldn’t decide.
“What brought that on?” She placed her lemonade on the ledge, inched her chair closer to the rail, and sat down beside him.
“Why do you think everything I say had to be ‘brought on’? Can’t a guy just ask a straightforward question?”
“Well, you are kind of pulling things out of thin air tonight.” She reached over and scooped up a handful of popcorn from the bowl on his lap. “I’m not dating Aaron any more, Drew.”
“You’re not?” Well, thanks a lot for telling me. “I thought you two were pretty tight.”
“Apparently we’re not.”
“Oh? When did that happen?”
She hesitated. “We broke it off . . . a while back.”
It couldn’t have been too long ago. He’d barely known Bree for two months, not counting that Thanksgiving they’d met briefly when he brought Lisa out to the inn.
“We only had, like, two real dates.”
“Wow. That was fast.” Real thoughtful response, Brooks. “I mean . . . Are you okay? Or was it your idea to break up?” He was batting a thousand in the foot-in-mouth department.
She frowned. “It was mutual— Well, that’s not exactly true. Let’s just say he didn’t beg me to take him back when I dumped him.” She giggled, but quickly turned sober. “I really wish I’d never even told anybody we were going out. If I’d known it would be over so quickly . . .” She reached for her drink on the railing, but instead of taking a sip, she held the icy glass to one cheek.
“Don’t you and Aaron work at the same place?”
She nodded and blew out a sigh. “It’s been a little awkward.”
“Been there, done that.” That would be Heather. Bad scene.
“I feel awful, Drew. I really messed up the whole thing. I realize now that Aaron had to play second fiddle to my memories of Tim. It’s kind of weird because dating him was an important first step for me. I knew it was time for me to get on with my life. And I liked Aaron a lot. But like I told him, he kind of ended up being collateral damage.” She sighed again. “I was wrong for leading him on. For trying to work up feelings for him that I just didn’t feel. For pretending things were other than they were with us.”
He looked at her sidewise. “You don’t strike me as a poser. So of course I have to ask . . . are you pretending with me?”
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“It seems like you kind of like me. Like we have a good thing going here”—he motioned between them—“Am I the only one feeling this?” He raked a hand through his hair. “Or are you just that good of an actress?”
“No.” She shook her head, a slight smile lifting her face. “No, Drew. I’m a terrible actress. And you’re not the only one feeling it.” She looked away, seeming suddenly shy.
“I’m glad.” He grasped for words.
But she found hers before he did. “Drew, I don’t know why things happened in the order they did. Aaron is a great guy. A great friend. But I never felt about him the way I felt about you by, oh, probably the third time I ever saw you.”
“What took you so long?” He grinned, but he wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. And he needed to be sure.
“Maybe I had to get some other things out of my system.” She pulled her feet up under her and angled her body toward him. “Maybe no matter who I’d dated first, I would have felt the same way. I don’t know. And I do feel bad about that whole collateral damage thing. For Aaron’s sake.”
“Interesting. Because I’ve been in Aaron’s shoes before.” It was true. He’d been on the receiving end of that kind of breakup more than once, and he kind of felt for the man right now. “What you’re saying kind of helps me see a different aspect of the break-up speeches I got. Maybe they really meant it when they said, ‘I really like you, Drew’ ”—he affected a falsetto—“ ‘but I just want to be friends.’ ”
She laughed. Then sighed and looked a little sad. “Somebody always gets hurt, don’t they?”
“Yes, but better to get hurt at that point in the relationship than ten years later when you have two-point-five kids and a mortgage together.”
“True that.” She shook her head slowly. “The thing is, I think my conflicted feelings about Aaron—maybe it was God’s way of showing me I was going the wrong direction. I never loved Aaron the way I needed to love someone I was seriously dating, let alone thinking about marrying.”
“Were you? Thinking about marrying him?”
“No. I didn’t mean it that way.” She dipped her head, laughing nervously. “Oh boy . . . this is getting a little deep.” She sighed. “It’s just that, at my age, if a girl doesn’t think about marriage, it may never happen.”
“Oh, so you’re just single-mindedly looking for a husband? Should I be worried?” He smiled, but he wanted to know too. Needed to know.
And he wasn’t sure which answer scared him more.
* * *
How on earth had this conversation escalated—in three minutes flat—from insect repellant to whether or not she was “single-mindedly looking for a husband”?
Bree reached over and backhanded him. Harder than she intended. “I am not answering that. And besides, that doesn’t even make sense.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Single-mindedly looking for a husband? Was that supposed to be ‘punny’?”
He laughed. “I guess it was.” He swatted at another mosquito, mumbling something that sounded like a curse against all insects.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, looking up at the night sky. Though the temps had hit the upper eighties this afternoon, there was a bite to the evening air that promised autumn’s imminent arrival. The stars overhead winked in a black sky, and a chorus of crickets chirruped their little hearts out. Huck’s tail thumped a rhythm on the deck floor between them that echoed her heart’s.
She rose and pressed her hands on the rail, her senses on alert. Afraid—and yet elated—at the way she felt, being here with Drew, finally breaking through to each other. He’d thought she was still dating. That would explain every hesitation. Every reservation he’d expressed.
And now . . .
She heard his chair scrape against the deck and turned her head.
And then he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders, his chin resting on her head. Adrenaline shot through her, and the hands she lifted to cover his were trembling.
They stood at the rail that way, barely moving, each measured breath a sigh, learning the contours of each others’ hands and arms as their fingers caressed, explored.
After a while, he turned her in one graceful motion until they were face to face, and then he was kissing her, strong arms enfolding her, his hands cradling her head, stroking he
r hair.
His scent was a heady mingling of insect repellant and popcorn and sawdust. Her body responded to his kiss, his touch, in exactly the way she’d searched in vain for with Aaron.
And more. She’d known the tender love of the marriage bed. She suspected Drew had not. But her body remembered now, and it took everything in her to quell the physical response that came as naturally as her next breath.
But Drew was a perfect gentleman, somehow conveying without words that he had no intention of taking this beyond the tender sweetness of this moment.
Gently, he pushed her away, still caressing her face, letting a silky strand of her hair slide through his fingers. “Okay, on that note, we need to get to bed.”
Her expression must have made him realize how that sounded, for he burst out laughing. “Whoa! That didn’t come out right! What I mean is”—he pointed to her, then himself—“you on the third floor, me in the dungeon. And lock your door.”
She laughed and leaned in to brush a kiss on his lips before reluctantly letting her hands slip from his arms. “You go on in. I’ll bring things in and tidy up before I turn in. Leave the front door unlocked in case the Farrigans forgot their key.”
He nodded and turned for the house, clicking his tongue at the dog. “Come on, Huck. Time to go in.”
“Goodnight.” It was a whisper so soft, she wasn’t sure he’d heard.
But at the door, he stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned back to her. Stone-faced, he pointed at her. “To be continued.”
She was still smiling when she locked the door to her third-floor room.
31
Bree heard noises downstairs and rolled over to check the clock. It was only five fifteen. But she stretched and eased her legs over the side of the high bed, memories from last night bringing a soft smile to her face. Maybe it was Drew rattling around downstairs.
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