A few minutes later, Maddy called out as she walked in the front door. “Hey Becky, you up?”
“Yeah, be right out,” she called back.
She met up with her sister in the kitchen. “You’re daring. How are the roads?”
Maddy seemed a little disconcerted as she looked around the room. “The main roads weren’t too bad. And John’s truck got through the side roads without any problem.” She hesitated. “I hope it’s okay that we came over?”
Becky looked up from her coffee in surprise. “Of course it is. It’s your house.”
Maddy nodded. “John and the boys are outside, but he’ll need to come in soon and get working on the apartment.”
“Sure,” Becky replied, wondering why Maddy looked so ill at ease. “Is Parker feeling better?”
“Parker? Oh, yeah, he’s fine. Just had too much pasta. He woke up ready to conquer the world this morning.”
“Well, thanks for bringing him over here to do it.”
Maddy smiled a little; didn’t laugh like she normally would.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” Becky asked. “I could make pancakes.”
“Oh, we’re all set. Thanks.”
“Anyone else coming over to work today?”
Maddy looked puzzled. “John thought that the others were busy.”
Becky nodded, relieved. She was pretty sure she didn’t need to see Tank today. “Guess we don’t need pancakes then. I’ll just have some cereal.”
She started toward the pantry, and couldn’t help notice Maddy peeking into the sunroom.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Becky asked. “Are you looking for something?”
Maddy jumped. “No! I’m just ...” She looked at Becky intently. “Are you alone?”
Becky tilted her head. “No. I’m here with you,” she said slowly. “Are you okay?”
Maddy looked relieved. “I’m fine, but ... Okay, Tank’s Jeep is parked out front and it’s covered with snow and we just thought ...”
Becky scowled. “What’s his Jeep doing here?” She went to the front of the house and looked out the window. Sure enough, Tank’s Jeep was sitting right where he’d left it the night before.
“That’s odd,” she said.
Maddy had followed her. “I’m sorry ... It just seemed like ... I’m sorry.”
The more she apologized the worse Becky felt. “No, it makes perfect sense.” She walked back through the house to the kitchen. “He was having trouble with his battery. Must not have been able to start it again when he left.”
She turned to her sister. “And no, he didn’t even come in the house last night. We talked on the porch and he said some things, and I wasn’t very receptive.” She sighed. “I kind of just came in and left him out there. He probably didn’t want to ask me for help after that.”
“Well,” Maddy replied, obviously regretting the conclusions she’d drawn, “I guess I’ll let John know it’s okay to start.”
Becky dumped her cold coffee in the sink. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to get a hold of Tank; he’s gotta move that Jeep.”
“Well, John will plow at some point, but there’s no rush.”
The more she thought about it, the more concerned Becky became. “Actually, there is. ‘Ooh la la’ lives right down the street.”
“Wait. Who?”
Becky looked distractedly at her sister, starting to panic. “This kid in my French class; always gives me a hard time. He lives at the end of Camden. He’s told me that he’s seen me out running.”
“So that’s a problem?”
“Everyone knows Tank’s Jeep at school. I can’t take the chance of anyone recognizing it here, covered with snow.” She got out her phone.
“Oh, right. Well, good luck.”
Becky found his number and let it ring. Sincerely hoping she’d wake him, she tapped her foot and looked out the window, waiting. Of course, he didn’t answer. She hit dial again, remembering Grace’s frustration that her brother never seemed to have his phone with him. Her irritation locked in, Becky pulled on her jacket, grabbed some mittens, and stomped her barely fastened boots out into the snow. She’d march down to his ocean-view palace and tell him what she thought of his precious Jeep.
***
By the time she got to Tank’s house, Becky was exhausted from navigating the piles of snow on the mostly unplowed side streets. She rang the doorbell and lifted the knocker, pounding it a few times for good measure.
Several minutes later, Tank finally came to the door, puffy-eyed and disoriented. Never had such a big, scary man looked so cuddly and ... cute wasn’t the word, but whatever it was, he wouldn’t like it. Becky recalled ‘waking’ him on another morning at the inn a few months earlier, but there had been nothing cuddly about that Tank.
This one lifted his arms in a stretch that should have been featured on the cover of some body building magazine, then blew that impressive image by letting out some sort of grumbly morning growl that was as adorable as it was alarming. Becky momentarily forgot her irritation, and simply stared.
After a moment, Tank seemed to wake up enough to realize she was standing on his porch in the cold. Apparently not questioning why she’d shown up at his house on a Saturday morning, he greeted her.
“Hey.” He pulled the door wide so she could enter.
Becky refused to satisfy her curiosity about his house and remained on the porch. She would not be impressed by the needlessly large and airy entranceway, or the wide staircase that no doubt led up to the beast’s lair. She glanced past the enormous, contemporary living area that stretched from the front to the beach side of the house, where it joined the kitchen. All of the windows showcasing the view of the water received no more than a cursory glance.
“No, thanks,” she replied to the unspoken invite as her eyes returned to Tank. She was about to let him have it, and he stood there regarding her with a sleepy smile. Did he think this was some sort of prehistoric social call?
“Why is your stupid Jeep in my driveway?” she demanded.
Tank reeled back as though she’d struck him. He rubbed the back of his neck and blinked. Becky ignored the bicep, his traps, and that gap of muscled stomach peeking out between his T-shirt and sweats. She fisted her hands on her hips and tried to look as menacing as possible.
“Oh, right,” he replied slowly. “Forgot about that. You want some coffee?”
“No, I don’t want coffee! I want you to move your Jeep! It’s covered with snow and it looks like it spent the night at my house, which it did. People will get the wrong impression. You have to move it!”
Becky made every effort to hold onto her anger, really wishing Tank wasn’t so appealing in his sleepy effort to process her request. She tapped her boot, which was actually kind of hard to do.
“Right, okay. Gonna need a jump.”
He actually rubbed his eyes. Becky looked down and bit back a smile. She came back up when she was sure she looked irritated again. “John’s at the house. I’m sure he can help you. Just hurry.”
“John? Good. Okay.”
“And another thing. The pregnancy center in Benson is closed today. I called to make sure. Do you have a way to get a hold of Carrie Lynn? I mean, she’ll probably figure it out, but since you told her I’d be there, we should follow up.”
Tank nodded. “Yeah,” he thought for a minute. “I have her number. You want it?”
“No, I want you to call her. Tell her I’ll talk to her at school.”
“Okay, no problem.” He finally seemed to be waking up. “You wanna give me a minute and I’ll walk back over with you?”
“No thanks. I’ll let John know you’re coming.” Becky turned and trotted back down the steps. She started her jog home without saying good-bye.
***
Becky threw herself into making a snow fort with Blake and Parker. For hours, she rolled snow boulders into place, strategically placed spy holes, and otherwise perfected their abode. By early afternoon they had an impress
ive fort and a snowman to guard it. He was holding a fireplace poker.
Otis came out to join them, and the boys showed him the fort and its fearsome guard. Afterwards, they all worked together to shovel Otis’ walkway.
Cold and tired, but happy, the four of them returned to Maddy’s kitchen to warm up.
“That was so fun, Miss Aunt Becky!” Parker beamed as they thawed out with hot chocolate. “I didn’t know you were so good at snow playing!”
Becky smiled, nursing her own cup of cocoa. “I have lots of hidden talents, Parker. Never underestimate me.”
“Under what?”
“Aunt Becky can do lots of cool things,” Blake explained, sharing his own smile with Becky.
She lifted her mug in salute. “Thanks, Blake.”
“I sure do appreciate the help with my walkway,” Otis added. “That was a lot more snow than I expected. Sure is pretty, though.”
Maddy had spent the day helping John in the attic, but Becky didn’t ask her for proof. She figured they could use a little time alone; whether they chose to use it remodeling or ... otherwise, was up to them. At some point during their snow adventure, Maddy had made a great big pot of soup, so Becky was happy.
Maddy was currently playing hostess and refilling their hot chocolate. “Your dad’s gonna want to see that fort before we leave today,” she said. “He might get some good ideas for the apartment.”
Blake and Parker giggled. “Maybe we can live out there instead!” Parker offered. “It’s so cool!”
Blake grinned and sipped his cocoa. Becky smiled at them both. “We’ll have to add a room or two if you’re going to live out there,” she replied. “And you’ll probably want a fireplace to stay warm.”
“But that would make the snow melt!” Parker laughed. “I’ll just bring Burt. He’ll keep me warm.”
The Irish wolfhound wagged his tail at hearing his name. He’d had his own adventure in the snow and was trying to sleep it off on his mat in the corner of the kitchen.
Maddy smiled affectionately. “He’s gonna be wiped out for the rest of the day. I hope one of you can carry him to the truck.”
Blake and Parker giggled again at that, and Becky grinned. Maddy was so good with the boys. They were lucky. Maddy was lucky. John was probably the luckiest of all.
twenty-two
Tank pulled into his driveway, revved the engine a bit, then turned off his Jeep. He’d have to look into a new battery after school sometime during the week. He got out and breathed in the clear, crisp morning air. His only memories of Maine belonged to summer. It was kind of cool to see those memories blanketed in snow.
Cool and cold, really cold. He jogged up the steps to the door, keys ready. He’d love to build a garage and a workshop on the half lot next door. That bit of property was available; he’d long since had that confirmed. He just needed the owners of his house to sell. Letting himself in, he kicked off his boots and shrugged out of his coat. It was time to check in with his real estate agent again.
Grace would be happy. She’d been right; Clairmont was a great little community, and it had somehow embraced him over the past few months. It was nice to feel at home somewhere.
Dropping his keys on the front table, he recalled the scene with Becky the morning before. She’d come spitting fire and all he could think of was how much he wanted her in his house. She’d worn the same L.L. Bean jacket that he’d held her in the night before, and it was hard to focus on anything else as she’d stood there complaining about his Jeep.
She was right, of course. He shouldn’t have left it Friday night, but it would have been awkward to ask for her help. Becky needed space. Tank was increasingly convinced that he needed Becky. The more desperate she was to drive him away, the more determined he was to hold onto her.
Things had definitely changed over the last few months.
He shook his head and went to start a pot of coffee. He thought about the day ahead; one that he’d been half dreading for the past couple of weeks. Frank had invited him over to watch the Super Bowl, but Grace had asked for his help at the shop. Either way, he wasn’t likely to be alone for his ‘farewell to football.’ Though it seemed rather anticlimactic, he felt like he might actually be ready to be a spectator again after all these years.
It was nothing short of miraculous - the transformation he’d gone through since the fall. Although he knew he had to give up playing, he certainly hadn’t been ready to do it four months ago. While he’d still love to play, and continued to work out as though he was on the team, he felt a kind of peace about moving on. He could never have imagined that happening.
Tank looked out his kitchen window as he waited for the coffee to brew. He wondered if Becky would be watching the game. She’d watched the Thanksgiving game with interest, and he’d grudgingly conceded at the time that she seemed to know what was going on.
He would enjoy watching football with her - explaining the plays - giving her an inside view of the action. Would she care? Would she even try to imagine what his former life was like? He wanted to think she would.
He was beginning to think that he’d enjoy doing a lot of things with Becky. He watched the water lap the icy shore and felt far removed from the cold. She’d definitely gotten under his skin. Too bad she was determined to be done with men. Based on what she’d said, her experience with men had been awful from the beginning. While the challenge to change her mind about at least one man was intriguing, a part of him acknowledged that it might not be what Becky needed.
***
Becky finished painting her toenails and tip-heeled out to the sunroom. The eternal Super Bowl pre-game program droned on. She had about fifteen minutes to finish cleaning up the kitchen and make her salad. The chocolate chip cookies she’d made were not for dinner.
She’d always liked football, but hadn’t watched much of it in the last couple of years. Ever since meeting Tank, she’d wanted to sit down and really watch a game - try to see it through his eyes. Somehow, the entire season had gotten away from her - cable problems out on the beach hadn’t helped - but now she was ready to sit and watch. Besides, the Super Bowl commercials were always entertaining.
Becky had made the cookies just because she felt like it. She’d have to take them to school; no way she could leave them at home. Still, it made the house smell wonderful and it had been a way to be productive without touching her school work. She washed her baking dishes, made a salad, and poured herself a glass of wine. She put the cork back in the bottle, put it way back up on the shelf, and headed out to the TV.
Ignoring the French grammar quizzes on the table in front of her, Becky curled up on the couch. She watched the players run onto the field, and wondered how Tank felt watching the game. She hoped he was with Grace, helping her kick off her new ‘sports corner’ at the back of the coffee shop. Becky would have gone to help out but she figured Tank would be there for his sister. He’d be a big draw for the community, and she knew Grace was counting on him. Becky sipped her wine, hoping the evening was a success for both of them.
***
Tank hardly knew how to approach knocking at her door. Becky wasn’t expecting him, and he’d probably scare her to death. Again. He’d call, but, of course, he didn’t have his phone on him. He should just turn around and head home, but he really wanted to see her.
He finally just gave a quick knock and then opened the door. “Sorry, Becky. Just me.”
He waited for her to catch her breath and put the pillow down. She’d been sitting on the couch with her back to the door. It did his heart good to see the game on, but her reaction to his entry was a high price to pay. She jumped a good six inches off the couch and then turned, ready to spring. Good for Becky; always ready to put up a fight.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. Thought this door would be better than the front. Mind if I come in?”
She slumped back down into the cushions and waved her hand. That was as much of an invite as he was going to get.
&nbs
p; Tank stepped in, closing the door quickly behind him. He stomped the snow off his boots then leaned down to untie them.
Becky managed to pull herself off the couch and pad around in her big fluffy slippers until she was standing above him. His gaze trailed from those slippers - they always got to him - up to her hands on her hips, and beyond to her less than happy face.
“Really sorry,” he said again as he loosened the second boot. She looked slightly less angry and a little more puzzled. That was a start.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “You really scared me, you ...” She dwindled off and punched him on the shoulder instead.
“Ow,” he grinned apologetically. “I know. I should have called or something.” He stood and towered unintentionally, and she took a step back. “I was hoping you’d still be up for a bit.”
“Well, you lucked out,” she replied, gesturing at the game. “Some of us like to watch football, so ...”
“Yeah, I heard there was a game on.”
They stood for a moment, the irritation dissolving.
“Nice shirt,” Tank finally said. She was wearing one of Grace’s “Caf-fiend” shirts. He unzipped his coat. So was he.
Becky glanced at his and a small smile turned her lips. “Great minds think alike.”
He nodded, hanging his coat over one of the kitchen chairs.
“Amazing how we wear the same size, too,” she observed, a smile in her voice as she walked to the sink.
He watched her retreat. His shirt was like a bed sheet next to hers; they’d had to special order it. He glanced away. Better not to think about bed sheets right now.
“So, what’s up?” she asked, opening a cupboard. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Tank noticed the wine glass next to the sink, but Becky didn’t seem liked she’d had much. “Just water would be great.”
“Did you go to the shop?”
“Yep.” He followed her and sat down on a bar stool. “It’s going well. Good turn out.”
Done With Men Forever (Clairmont Series Book 3) Page 19