Driving through downtown Clayburn, he noticed the lights were still on at Latte-dah. He whipped into an empty parking stall. “You guys stay right here. I’m going to get sandwiches for dinner.”
“Plain mustard on mine,” Landon yelled.
“No mustard!” The twins took up an anti-mustard chant.
“I’m not taking special orders,” Doug said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “You can put your own mustard on them when we get home. Or not.”
Before they could argue, he jumped out and shut the door.
Fifteen minutes and as many dollars later, he carried a soggy sack of smoked turkey and swiss sandwiches into the house. He followed the kids in and flipped on lights that spotlighted kitchen counters strewn with this morning’s cereal boxes and yesterday’s dinner dishes.
The dining-room table was worse. It would be a major undertaking just to clear off a space for supper. They’d just cleaned the place up a few weeks ago. How had things gotten to be such a wreck again?
He would organize another cleaning brigade Saturday morning. The kids wouldn’t be happy about it, but that was tough. Kaye hadn’t worried so much about whether they were happy or not. She was more concerned with whether they were learning important life lessons and growing into responsible young men and women. But then, Kaye hadn’t faced the challenge of trying to be both mother and father.
He rushed the kids through dinner and helped them clean up the worst of the kitchen mess. When they were settled in with homework, he took the phone to his bedroom and dialed Mickey.
For the first time, his palms were damp and his nerves a jittery mass, waiting for her to answer.
“I’m coming…I’m coming.” Mickey set down the overflowing wheelbarrow and ran up the back steps to the deck. So much for getting the flowerbeds cleaned out before dark. Oh, well. It was only the third of April. A little early to put anything out anyway.
Brushing garden dirt from her hands, she slid the screen door open with one elbow. The evening air was balmy, and she’d left the French doors to the dining room open. She’d heard the phone at least twice before, and she’d let it ring until now. But this time her imagination started conjuring bad news scenarios involving her brothers and their sweet families, and she couldn’t ignore it another minute.
She kicked off her Crocs outside the door and wiped bare, damp feet on the rug before stepping inside. She grabbed the handset, barely registering the DeVore on the Caller ID, before she answered, “Hello?”
“Mickey? Hi, it’s Doug.”
“Oh, hi. Did you try calling earlier?”
“Um…yeah. A couple times.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been working out in the yard.”
“Oh. Sorry. I can call back later if that’s better for you.”
“No, it’s okay.” She reached to close the door. The yard would still be here tomorrow evening. It was nice to hear his voice.
“So…how was your day?”
She hesitated. Did she imagine the trepidation in his voice? “It was okay.” Somehow she didn’t think he’d called just to chat. She gripped the phone tighter. She’d halfway expected this call. Expected he would call to cancel Sunday. And thinking about that possibility earlier this week, she’d felt mild relief. But now, with his voice soft in her ear, she knew that wasn’t what she wanted at all. She missed him. Please don’t let me cry, Lord. At least not until I hang up.
“I haven’t talked to you for a while.” He kept his voice low, but she could hear the kids chattering in the background. Or maybe it was the TV.
“Yes, it’s been a while. How’d the bowling go Sunday?”
“Oh. We didn’t go bowling.”
“No?”
“No, we went to a movie instead.” He hesitated. “That Disney show we were going to see a few weeks ago.”
“Oh. Did you like it?”
He cleared his throat. “Since when did Disney movies get so stinking sad?”
She laughed softly. But remembering the movie, she realized he might not be kidding. “I told you that one was a tearjerker.”
“You did. I should have listened to you.”
“You should have.”
He sighed. “I let the kids talk me into it. Next time I’ll take you at your word. Maybe I can make up for it Sunday.” She could hear his smile.
“Sunday?” She didn’t like playing dumb, but she wasn’t going to assume anything either.
“If you don’t have…anything else going on, we’d—I’d like you to go bowling with us again. I think we all missed it last week.”
She smiled into the phone. He didn’t say they’d missed her, but she was pretty sure that’s what he meant. “You missed the bowling, huh?”
He either didn’t get her joke or he chose to ignore it. “But hey…Sunday’s not really why I called.” He cleared his throat. “Would you want to go out to dinner Friday night? Just me…no kids. Maybe we could catch a movie after—not a sad one,” he added quickly.
She’d been all ready to take his rejection like an adult. Now he was asking her for a date. An official date. It didn’t take her two seconds to decide. “I’d love to, Doug.”
“Friday…or Sunday?”
“Both.”
“Great!” She heard his grin over the phone lines. “Okay if I pick you up about six-thirty?”
Why had she said yes so quickly? Things were great between them just the way they were. Did she really want to mess it up with a date? Not that she hadn’t daydreamed a hundred times about those few minutes on her deck when he’d put his arm around her, and she’d leaned into his sweet warmth. She sighed.
“Everything okay?”
She gave a self-conscious laugh. She hadn’t meant for him to hear her sigh. “Everything’s fine. I’ll see you Friday then?”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
She felt herself blush and was glad he couldn’t see her. She dropped the handset in its cradle and went to troll her closet for something suitable to wear on a “real” date.
Chapter 20
Robins chirped and chattered in the tops of the Bradford pears that bloomed up and down Clayburn’s Main Street. April 6, but already the trees wore a cloak of new yellow-green leaves. Mickey tugged at the hem of her shirt, wishing she’d picked something more comfortable to wear.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Doug said again, maneuvering his pickup into a tight spot in front of Latte-dah. “I just didn’t feel right leaving Kayeleigh with the kids too long.”
“Not at all. This is nice. I’ve always liked the coffee shop.” Well, that part was true. But she did mind a little that they were staying in Clayburn for their date. There was no way she and Doug wouldn’t be the talk of the town after tonight. If they weren’t already.
She put aside any hope of keeping her friendship with Doug a secret from her brothers. They may not live in Clayburn’s city limits, but rumors traveled faster than the pony express around here. And this would be a rumor of the highest caliber.
Doug put the truck in park and climbed out. “Hang tight,” he said through the open window. “I’ll get your door.”
Feeling silly sitting there while he ran around the front of the vehicle, she pulled on the door handle. Nothing happened. Doug jerked on the handle from the outside. Nothing. The door didn’t seem to be locked. She watched through the window as he fished his keys from his pocket and joggled them in the lock until the door finally unlatched. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t just being thoughtful.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “There’s a trick to this door.”
“And to think I was all impressed.” She feigned a pout.
“Don’t worry, if it had stayed stuck, I would have brought you something out to eat.”
She laughed. “That’s real big of you. Thanks.”
He winked. “Wouldn’t want you to starve to death.” He put a hand on the small of her back and followed her inside.
She took a deep breath, savoring the heady aroma of strong espresso and cinn
amon and vanilla. Immediately, it brought back memories of the first night she’d gotten to know Doug at Jack and Vienne Linder’s wedding. The place looked very different tonight. At a table near the window, a family with teenagers laughed together, oblivious to them. And an elderly couple sat side by side on the sofa in front of the fireplace, sipping coffee and reading hardcover books. Other than that, the place belonged to her and Doug.
She hoped it stayed that way. He’d made it clear this wouldn’t be a late night, so maybe they could escape before their date became fodder for the Courier. She smiled to herself, imagining Doug himself stopping the presses to censor the gossip column.
Doug claimed a table on the other side of the fireplace. “This okay?”
“Sure.” She took the chair he held for her.
“I’ll go order for us. Do you know what you want or do you need to look at a menu?”
“No…I’ll just have the soup and half a sandwich. Whatever the special is.”
Vienne didn’t seem to be working tonight, but the college-age girl behind the counter—Allison, Mickey thought her name was—smiled in her direction and took Doug’s order.
He came back to the table with their drinks and they admired the art displayed on the wall over their table—some of it Jack Linders’—until the girl brought their food.
“So Kayeleigh’s babysitting tonight, huh?”
“Yeah. First time. I hope I’m not sorry.” He pulled his cell phone off his belt loop and checked the display.
“She’ll do fine. I see her with the kids at the daycare. She’s good with them. We probably ought to pay her for all the help she gives us on the days she’s there after school.” She didn’t mention that Kayeleigh had been sporting an attitude lately. This wasn’t the time or place, and besides, she’d chalked it up to the fact that the girl was on the brink of being a teenager. It was a tough age to be.
“I was hoping we could go to that new Mexican place in Salina.”
“This is fine, Doug. Really. It’s fine…”
The bells on the front door jangled, and he eyed the two couples coming in. A middle-aged couple she didn’t recognize, and Trevor and Meg Ashlock, with their new baby in tow. Trevor raised a hand in greeting. She and Doug returned his wave in unison, but they didn’t come over. For a minute, Doug seemed to retreat to a faraway place, and Mickey wondered if there was something going on at work between them.
Doug motioned toward the foursome. “Those are Amy’s parents,” he whispered.
“Oh.” That had to be a little awkward for Meg, though her smile and warmth toward the couple seemed genuine. She cringed at the image that formed of her and Doug having dinner with Harriet Thomas and wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
“Is your soup good?”
“Very.” She took a bite as if to prove it, grateful for the change of subject.
“Save room for dessert. There are some big honkin’ cream puffs in the dairy case calling our names.”
“I don’t dare. I’m still trying to lose the five pounds I gained over the holidays.”
“Oh, come on. Live a little. You can bowl it off Sunday.”
“Okay, okay. You twisted my arm.” As if bowling a few lanes was going to work off a thousand calories.
Outside the wide front windows, the sun sank behind the storefronts. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the cue for Latte-dah to come to life. A group of high school kids drifted in and scooted two tables together for a rowdy pizza party—Vienne’s latest offering. Two more tables filled up with retired couples. The soothing jazz that had been playing over the speakers was quickly drowned out, and she and Doug had to practically shout to hear each other.
Worse, it became obvious that they were being watched with great curiosity. When Clara Berger and her cronies parked at the table beside her and Doug—and a whisper-fest commenced—he touched her hand and cut his eyes to the gossips’ table. “How about we take those cream puffs to go?”
She repressed a grin and nodded. “Good idea.”
“I’ll go get them.”
She nodded toward the restrooms in back. “I’ll be right back. Meet you outside?”
Doug gave her a thumbs-up. It felt good to be in cahoots with him. Even if this wasn’t exactly a covert sting operation.
When she came out of the restroom, she avoided meeting any of the eyes she felt trained on her. Through the window, she could see Doug waiting for her, leaning on his truck. As soon as he saw her, he went around to get her door. Thankfully, it opened on the first try.
He jogged around to the driver’s side and climbed in. He put the key in the ignition, but looking up through the windshield, he let out a snort of laughter. He tapped her arm and nodded back toward the coffee shop. “Don’t look now, but we, um…we seem to be the main attraction.”
Trying to be casual, she followed his line of vision to the front window of Latte-dah. Above the café curtains, no less than six pairs of eyes peeked back at them.
“Oh, good grief!” Mickey dissolved in giggles.
He clucked his tongue and lowered his voice. “I do believe they have us married off, on our honeymoon, and probably prematurely pregnant with our first child.”
“Doug!” She was glad her face was already flushed from laughing. She could hardly believe he’d said that out loud.
“Well? Am I wrong?”
She rolled her eyes. “Sadly, no. It is Clayburn, after all. So how do you propose we deflect those nasty little rumo—”
Before she could spit out the last syllable, he leaned across the bench seat, wrapped his arms around her, and planted a kiss—a long, slow, I-mean-it sort of kiss––squarely on her mouth.
Chapter 21
Mickey was so shocked she didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him back. Given their audience, she chose the latter option—happily, she realized. Putting her hand on the back of his neck, she played along with the little show he’d orchestrated.
Finally, he pulled away, gave her one last gentle peck, and settled back on his side of the truck. “There,” he said, turning the key and revving the engine. “That’ll give ’em something to chew on.”
“I’ll say,” she muttered. “For a few weeks to come.” Feeling a little breathless, she put her hands in her lap and tucked her chin.
Doug put the truck in reverse, stretched his arm across the back of the seat, and slowly backed onto Main Street.
Mickey sighed. News of his shenanigans would be all over town by the time she got back to work Monday morning. Sooner than that, no doubt. Only nobody would know it had been a joke. How was she ever going to face the rumors?
An involuntary gasp rose in her throat as she imagined the look on her brothers’ faces if they heard about Doug’s mischief. She pushed her breath down before it escaped. She hadn’t said a word to any of her brothers or their wives about where she was spending her Sundays. Even when Rick or Tony or Alex teased her about her “old maid” status, she’d kept her mouth shut about Doug. Not that there was anything to tell.
Doug was quiet on his side of the vehicle. He was probably already regretting his rash actions. But she could not get that kiss out of her mind. Good thing he couldn’t read her mind. She’d done her best not to let her daydreams wander to the possibility of Doug having such feelings toward her, but she couldn’t control what she dreamed about him at night.
Now he’d gone and made one of those dreams come true—and it was all for a laugh.
He turned onto Pickering Street. “Okay if we take our cream puffs to your house? I’d invite you to mine, but I don’t exactly want to split them eight ways.”
“Eight?”
“Harriet might be there. She was going to check on the kids. And she does love a good cream puff.”
Mickey laughed. “Sure. My house is fine. We can sit on the deck.” If he could see right through her—know she was thinking of the last time they’d sat on her deck—he gave no hint.
He stared straight ahead until he
slowed in front of her house and parked at the curb. But instead of getting out of the truck, he put the bag of cream puffs on the dashboard, turned in his seat, and reached for her.
There was nobody to show off for now. Nobody he was trying to fool. Except her? Trembling, she let him take her into his arms again, let his lips find hers. She drank in the sweet taste of him. Cream puffs had nothing on this man. She savored a kiss that was beyond anything her dreams were made of.
But what were his intentions? She slowly came to her senses and pushed away from him. “Doug…what is this? I don’t––”
He reached for her tentatively. When she didn’t respond, he put a hand over hers. “Mickey, I think––I think I might be falling in love with you.”
“No, Doug.” She started shaking her head. “No. I don’t think…I don’t think you can know that.” Oh, dear God. I’m not ready for this. Please…help me know what to say.
His eyes challenged her. “Why can’t I know that?”
She shook her head, overwhelmed. “It’s too soon, Doug. You’ve only just lost…Kaye.” She whispered the name. The name of the only woman Doug had eyes for mere weeks ago. No matter how much she wished it were true, he couldn’t possibly love her yet. Love didn’t die that quickly—or grow that quickly, for that matter. Did it? Oh, but how desperately she wanted it to be true. She hadn’t dared to hope until now. Or perhaps she had, but hadn’t fully admitted it to herself. And now he’d gone and ruined everything.
She pulled her hand out from under his. “What was that all about…in front of the coffee shop? Is that your idea of a joke?”
He chewed at the corner of his lip. “I-I saw a chance to—to make my move.” His mouth lurched in a lopsided smile. “I’m a little rusty, Mick. That was—clumsy. I’m sorry. But are you going to sit here and tell me you didn’t feel something?”
She blew out a huff of air. “Of course I felt something, you idiot. That’s not the point.”
Yesterday's Embers (Clayburn Novels Book 3) Page 12