Covered Bridge Charm

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Covered Bridge Charm Page 3

by Christner, Dianne;


  He cleared his throat. “That sounded wrong. It’s just that I hoped they were planning something small—as in only family.” He gave her a sheepish grin that was irresistibly endearing and almost believable. He could be quite charming when he tried. But his brown eyes remained skittish. His gorgeous smile resembled Dale’s, but the two men were nothing alike. Still trying to read him, she muttered, “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m invited to your party. Your sister isn’t reading more into our relationship than there is, is she?”

  He pulled onto Hawthorne Lane. “Nope. She knows we’re just friends.” In her driveway, he killed the truck’s ignition and draped a chiseled arm over the steering wheel. “Heard you had a meeting with Uncle Si.”

  “Jah. I’m working on a plan to recruit volunteers. He’s taking it to the board. This is big. You know how bad we need volunteers.” She blinked dreamy eyes, surprised to catch his black brows in a judgmental V.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Judge me. Don’t act like you don’t care about the residents as much as I do. I meant it earlier when I said you were a softie.”

  “I wasn’t. I was thinking about something else.”

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not important.”

  As his gaze went to her mouth, she stirred uncomfortably.

  “If you must know, I was stuck on your earlier question. What I wanted for my birthday. It got me thinking. You have a nice mouth. But it would be better suited to kissing than arguing and nagging with Si. Sometimes you talk so much I can’t even keep up with our blasted conversation.”

  “Well that’s plain rude. You’re right. Birthdays don’t suit you.” She jerked the door handle. “Just get my bike.”

  With a curt nod, he jumped out of the truck.

  Normally, she went inside while he took care of her bike, but she had instantly regretted her harsh remarks. It wasn’t his fault she was having a rough day. She moved toward the tailgate to make amends. But on the way around the truck, a wild idea flew into her brain. It was crazy, but…

  He unlatched the tailgate and easily hoisted down the bike. “You forget something?”

  “Just curious. Were you thinking about kissing me in particular, or talking about all women in general?”

  His dark, deep-set eyes lit with interest, but he quickly schooled his expression to one of mild curiosity. “Both, I guess. Guys usually wish women would talk less and you know, smile more.”

  She hesitated, wavering between the practical and the indecent. With one easy stroke she could move some meager funds from the birthday column to the recruiting column. The clock was ticking, and she didn’t know what to buy Adam. A friendly kiss might finally remove Dale’s lingering ghost.

  He toed the kickstand and faced her so close she could smell his piney scent. His eyes were two deep pools. “Carly? I know that look. What are you scheming?”

  She studied him, taking in the thick black hair and masculine square jaw which now sported an evening shadow, and deemed it risky but practical. “Adam, would you settle for a birthday kiss?”

  He couldn’t hide his shock. “Is this a trick question?” She tucked her full bottom lip between her teeth and smiled in that fetching way that deepened her dimples and made her likable. But he couldn’t let down his guard around her. “Now Carly, you’re either overtired or not thinking clearly.”

  Miffed, she turned and blasted him with a parting shot. “Well just great. Last night I didn’t get a wink of sleep worrying about my recruitment plan. And tonight I’ll lay awake worrying about your dumb birthday present.”

  Drat Si. It was his fault he’d stared at her lips and blurted out his thoughts. Now he was in a no-win situation. With no strings attached, he was for it. Only with women, there were always strings. And unlike his sisters, this fetching creature even wore them on her covering. “Wait a minute.”

  Shoulders slumped, she turned rejected and pathetic. But that didn’t mean she was harmless. Not this woman who’d caused such a family stir. He knew first-hand from Dale how this curvy woman was anything but yielding. If there was kissing involved, he needed to set some boundries. “I don’t like being manipulated.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She pushed his shirt. “Just go. But don’t complain if I buy you a pair of socks.”

  He caught her hand. “Wait. I don’t want a gift. Your friendship’s enough.” Her pained gaze struck him. His rejection had hurt her. Softly, he said, “Just the same, I would like to claim that kiss.” He tipped her chin and whispered, “Tilt your head, Carly.”

  “I know that.”

  “Be quiet, please.”

  He felt her quiver beneath his touch. It sent a jolt of unexpected pleasure through him. He was wrong. She was soft as she looked… to the touch. Entranced, he lost himself until he felt her hands lightly pushing against his chest. When he opened his eyes, he was thankful to see she wasn’t regretful. More like perplexed.

  He gently tugged one of her curls, hoping the gesture would pass as thanks. He was a gentleman, after all. Then he set her aside and grabbed up the beachcomber.

  When he returned from her backyard, however, he discovered she still hadn’t gone inside, but stood there, wearing a vulnerable expression. Had he really distracted the Carly Blosser? Sudden fear leapt through his heart. This independent woman always got what she went after. Surely, she wasn’t after…

  She flashed her dimples. “So, happy birthday then.”

  A smile tugged his lips. “Sure. By the way, you have a gigantic tear in your stocking.” With that, he hightailed it to the truck. In his rearview mirror, he saw a light go on inside the cottage. Happy Birthday. Merry Christmas, and every holiday all rolled into one.

  When the pleasure faded, however, he realized that kiss would instigate something terrible. He could feel it in his bones. Sheer terror. Nappanee beckoned stronger than ever. Snatching his cell phone, he punched in speed dial.

  “Hey, Jimmy. I’m worried about Carly.”

  “Why? That crazy old dog didn’t attack her?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Unless he was the dog. “She thinks Si gave her permission to recruit volunteers for the center. Only, he’s stalling until she forgets about it.”

  “Fat chance she’ll forget. All right, I’ll talk to her.”

  “Great. She’s coming to my party. Maybe you can give her a lift?” If she came on her brother’s arm, it might not cause such a stink with the family. He wondered if he should tell Jimmy about Nappanee. A guilty thought struck him. He’d kissed Carly, knowing full well he might be leaving. A more disturbing thought followed. Carly’s kiss was chaste-like. For some reason, that bothered him more than the fact she’d only kissed him to pinch a few pennies.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Carly flipped on her living-room light and almost stepped on the soft creature dashing circles around her feet. Dropping her purse on an end table, she eased back the curtain enough to watch Adam’s taillights disappear around the corner. With a sigh, she sank into the sofa’s saggy spot and touched her finger to her lips, which were still warm from his kiss. “Oh Cocoa, what on earth was I thinking?”

  Resting her forehead in her palm, she tried to reason with her anxious heart. “It meant nothing.” To him, anyway. Sure, Adam was always her brother’s good-looking friend. The dark brooding fellow who attracted female attention. Every brother has one, right? But she’d never been interested in him until he started instructing the retirement center’s woodworking shop, and he’d earned her admiration with his compassion for the elderly. So different from his gregarious, ambitious cousin. But Jimmy was mostly responsible for her budding friendship with Adam.

  When her brother had taken his trucking job, hauling Oregon fruits to the Midwest and picking up loads there that often kept him away from home for days at a time, he’d enlisted Adam to keep an eye on her. At first it embarrassed her to have Adam taking Jimmy’s place, keeping her woodpile stacked, hauling her b
ike around, and fixing her garbage disposal. But she’d grown accustomed to it—a lopsided friendship to be sure. And she’d never entertained thoughts that he was actually interested in her as a woman. Wasn’t that what he’d hinted at tonight? It came as a surprise, then, that his free birthday kiss could stir up something which long lay dormant. She should have known free was too good to be true.

  His kiss came with a cost. A sad longing settled over her. She was playing with fire, and she’d surely get burned if she wasn’t careful how she handled this situation in the days to come.

  Thump! Thump!

  Uh, oh. “Cocoa, no-no,” she warned.

  Again, Thump! Thump!

  Two thumps too many, too late. The chocolate-and-white rabbit lunged at her legs and started digging furiously on her stockings. “Careful, sweet. I know you need attention. You’re lonely, too.” She reached and gently disengaged its claws from the ragged mess on her calf. Lowering herself to the floor and leaning her back against the couch, she rubbed Cocoa’s head until the offended rabbit settled down and became a fat, furry puddle. Adam’s snide remark leapt to mind, “By the way, you’ve got a gigantic tear in your stocking.”

  Laughter bubbled up. Following that, she remembered Martha’s fingernail getting caught in her stocking and the older woman’s stern reprimand about buying stockings on sale. Bits of the irrational conversation that had taken place inside the elevator soon had her laughing hysterically. It felt good to release the tension from the whole elevator episode. It must have affected her more than she’d realized. That’s probably why the kiss didn’t turn out to be the joke she’d intended.

  “Oh Cocoa, what a day.” The bunny was doing its tooth purr. His gentle tooth grinding was a sign of rabbit bliss. She rubbed beside his long, lopped ear. The plump bunny was a unicorn lop with one ear up and one down. It was what had attracted her to her mixed-breed pet. He was a rescue bunny and had always been on the nippy side when he didn’t get his way.

  “Okay, lazy. Let’s get us some dinner.” There was fresh hay and a raisin treat for Cocoa and leftover spaghetti calling her name. She loved her tiny cottage, even if she was the youngest resident on the street. It met her needs. The kitchen was at one end, providing a window over the sink, which looked out at her flower bed. The one Jimmy unenthusiastically helped to create. From the window, she could watch her neighbor Imogene uncoil her gray hose and water her colorful zinnias. On hot days, she watered Carly’s garden, too. Sometimes she even refilled Carly’s hummingbird feeder.

  There was another window by a square table big enough for her pressed flower crafts and an adjoining living room with a ratty, green-and-white-striped sofa and matching armchair. The large bamboo plant was a gift from her aunt. While she couldn’t sew, Carly was great with any green living thing. Well, practically any living thing. Except men.

  Next came a hall and bathroom. Her bedroom was at the back of the cottage. The yellow quilt that graced her bed was her mother’s. She liked to think she slept inside her mother’s hug. A mother long gone, yet the quilt bridged heaven and earth. Long ago, it had helped her decide that sunny yellow was her favorite color. Mostly dressing in dark plain materials, she enjoyed her cheery room. She went with a more Conservative Mennonite traditional look in the kitchen. Same as the living room, bright green and white.

  As she washed her plate, she watched Cocoa move toward his litter box.

  Carly finished in the kitchen and started her bath. With a squirt of dishwashing detergent, the bubbles exploded, a few popping against her cheek. Instantly her mind recalled Adam’s touch, the way he’d gently tugged her hair. At that moment, his unguarded gaze had held a smolder she’d never witnessed in him. She frowned, wondering what it meant. How quickly it had been replaced with a twinkle. Then the snide remark about her stockings. Was it his way of covering his feelings? Why had he stared at her legs? She broke off her thoughts, remembering she wasn’t ready to get back into a relationship. Because of Dale, her trust toward men had been wounded. He’d chosen his career over her. Best not to think about the kiss she’d shared with Adam.

  In the upset of the day, she’d forgotten all about her volunteer program. With a sigh of comfort, she turned off the faucet and sank deep into the water. Tomorrow was Saturday. She’d go to Auntie’s and find a way to turn her grandiose idea into a viable recruitment plan. She’d been given a chance to do something great for the residents. And she wasn’t going to let them down.

  Stretching on his hind legs, Cocoa peeked over the tub to lick water droplets.

  “Hi, Sweetie. Tomorrow we’re going to Auntie’s. And while we’re there, I’ll tell her to make my new dress extra long so Adam doesn’t ogle my legs. That’ll teach him.”

  Late Saturday morning, Carly jumped off her bike and lowered the kickstand, taking a few moments to catch her breath. They’d gone the long way since Cocoa couldn’t tolerate barking dogs. It felt good to work off the adrenalin surging through her veins over Simon’s upcoming board meeting. She hoped Aunt Fannie could help her organize her frazzled thoughts into an engaging, workable plan.

  Grabbing a yellow legal pad and tiny bell—which kept Cocoa in line when away from home—she eased the rabbit out of his soft bed in the bike’s woven-reed basket. Cocoa snuggled tight, put his ears back, and grunted with displeasure.

  Aunt Fannie’s house could use a coat of white paint, but the porch smelled sweet from the autumn clematis that trailed along its railing. The latch clicked, and Auntie swung the screen door open with a smile.

  “I was expecting you.” She pet the rabbit. “And I’ll put up with it.”

  Inside, Carly released Cocoa and waited while Auntie prepared a litter box. Cocoa raised up on his hind legs and scoped the room, then nose twitching, hopped away to investigate the small dining room where patterns were strewn across a slightly dusty table.

  “A new design?”

  “Jah. I’m calling it ‘autumn paisley.’”

  Carly rustled the thin tissue paper as she examined a drawing done in colored pencils. “What a fascinating design. It’s different.”

  “Ach, it’s simple.” She pointed. “Just pears and leaves.”

  “Jah. I see it now.”

  The older woman with gray-streaked, dull brown hair took joy in creating colorful new quilt patterns. Some were tested on the Old Holley Fellowship sewing circle, but many were never revealed, awaiting her dream of publishing a pattern book.

  A quick glance sent Carly scurrying from the room with her aunt soon at her heels. The women ran down the hall, and Aunt Fannie brushed past Carly, entering the tiny bedroom on the right. “Cocoa! You naughty rabbit!”

  Auntie bent and tried to pry a pattern from the rabbit’s mouth. Cocoa spit it out and nipped her hand. Pulling back, Auntie screeched, “Ach! Why did I forget to close the door?”

  While the older woman made repairs, Carly moved past the multicolored quilt that covered the bed and stood on tiptoe to peer onto a closet shelf. She lifted a shoe box lid labeled Rabbit’s Toys and withdrew an empty toilet paper roll. “Try that instead, Sweetie.”

  Cocoa snatched the offering and hopped under the bed.

  “Sweetie,” Auntie mimicked sarcastically.

  Carly used the rabbit’s bell to lure Cocoa back into the main part of the house. Auntie closed the bedroom door and got Cocoa a raisin treat for obeying the bell. “Not that it deserves it.” She glanced at Carly. “How do you get yourself into such trouble? Keeping a spoiled rabbit for a pet. Riding a pink bike. Tearing your—”

  She interrupted with a nod. “That reminds me. Make my new dress a couple inches longer than normal, will you?”

  Aunt Fannie lifted a brow but remained silent.

  Let her figure that out, Carly thought. “Speaking of trouble. That’s why I’m here. I need your help with my volunteer plan.”

  Auntie sighed.

  “Will you?”

  “Jah. Just bring your yellow pad to the kitchen. I’ll make tea. You always driv
e me to drinking.”

  Carly grinned, having heard that line many times. “I’ve made a list of places we can advertise for recruits. The library, farmer’s market, restaurants, newspaper, radio, places of business around town and church.”

  “What about Salem’s Quiltopia?”

  “The quilt festival’s too soon. At least this year.”

  “Jah, probably. It’s only two weeks away.” The tiny woman cranked open the antique window near her sink. “That feels better. Cocoa got me heated up.”

  Carly scribbled, Need script for radio, article for the newspaper, fliers, posters, brochures.

  Auntie poured tea. “What do these volunteers do?”

  Carly whipped to the next page. “Why they can do anything: crafts, singing, games, Bible groups, sharing talents like painting or teaching computers.”

  “Computers! Ach. Scratch that off.”

  Ignoring her, Carly continued, “Hand massage, needlework, bring pets, exercise classes, visitor companion, reading, phone companion, taking residents to get their hair done, swimming.”

  “Swimming?”

  Carly shrugged. “I’m just brainstorming.”

  “How about scenic drives? Something to get them out of the center?”

  “Good idea. But I wonder if legalities are involved. I’ll have to find out. The volunteer would have to be trustworthy. A good driver. Too bad Sweet Life doesn’t have a van.”

  “You’ll have to interview them.”

  “So I’ll need questions, applications that include reference checks, and I might as well come up with duties and responsibilities.”

  Auntie glanced at the clock. “They’ll want to know how much time it requires.”

  Carly scribbled. “And they’ll need supervision and accountability.” She set down her pencil and sipped her tea. “This is going to be a big job.”

 

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