by Cheri Allan
Jim avoided her eyes and she instantly regretted taking him so seriously. Clearly it was an off-handed offer, nothing more. “I can’t,” he said. “Not this afternoon. I’m going to the Artisan’s Fair.”
“You are? I love that fair! I haven’t been in years. Would you mind if we tag along? Grace needs a gift for a bridal shower she’s going to, and I think I should be done here by...” She looked at her watch.
“Actually, Kate, I’m going with a... friend.”
“Oh.” Her heart slammed down into her gut. “Oh. Well, then...”
“But I’d be happy to take you another time.”
“Take her where?” Carter asked from behind as he stepped from the house.
“Kayaking,” Kate said, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “Jim was offering to show my how to kayak sometime, that’s all.”
“I can take you if you want,” Carter offered.
“I’m sure I’ll get to it,” Jim assured them.
“It’s okay,” Kate said. “I can go with Carter.”
“Let me know what you decide,” Carter called as he walked toward the garage. “Grams promised spaghetti if I throw some stuff out.”
Jim waited till his cousin was out of earshot. “I’m happy to take you, you know. I just can’t. Not today.”
Kate watched Grace and Liam bob gaily in the water. “It’s better if I go with Carter.”
“I said I—”
“Because I want to go with you,” she finished, turning toward him.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Jim,” she said, “we’re… friends. And friends want each other to be happy.” She placed a hand on his chest. She could feel the steady thump of his heart through the thin fabric. “I want you to be happy,” she whispered. Her own heart clenched tight in her chest as she said the words. This beautiful, generous man deserved so much better than she had to offer. It wouldn’t be fair to get in his way if he could be with someone else.
He sighed. “I just—”
“Jim.”
“You’re right.” His hand closed over her own for one sweet moment, then he pulled them both from his chest and stepped away. “Go with Carter.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
____________________
“JIM!”
Jim nodded and closed the door of his pickup as Cathy waved a greeting, guilt creeping up his spine with every step she took toward him. He wasn’t cut out for this. Carter? Sure. Him? No way. He’d repeated Kate’s ‘just friends’ speech ever since agreeing to the date with Cathy two days ago, yet he still felt like a two-timing jerk.
But that had to stop, and it stopped just as soon as he got over this thing he had for Kate that she clearly didn’t want to pursue.
He watched as Cathy wove her way through the parked cars. She had on a white, sleeveless dress, and her hair was pinned into a high, loose bun, a few free tendrils dancing around her face in the hot breeze. More than one male head turned to look at her. “You’re here! I was beginning to think you were going to leave me high and dry.”
“I’m sorry. I got held up. I was helping my parents clean out for a yard sale this morning. My grandmother moved in with them after her knee replacement last year. It’s made things a little cramped.”
“Oh, my. I suppose I can’t fault you for being late now. I feel petty for even mentioning it.” She flashed a smile. “Buy you a cool drink to make amends? I think they have an old-fashioned lemonade booth over with the food vendors according to the map. Shall we start there?”
“Sure. Sounds great.”
She smiled again, a relaxed, breezy grin and linked her elbow with his to lead him through the crowds. She had on a wide, gold bracelet that winked in the sunlight, blinding him. She seemed like a nice woman. It wasn’t fair not to give her a fair chance. Hadn’t he agreed to be here? Swallowing his feelings for Kate, he forced himself to smile in return.
Two hours later, he found himself leaning against a tent pole and laughing at the most hideous handicrafts known to man. “Seriously? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You don’t like it?” Cathy seemed genuinely surprised. “But it’s handmade right here—”
“By color-blind craftsmen?”
“That’s the beauty of it! It says right here on the tag. They use scraps of wool that would otherwise go to waste. No two are alike.”
“Yup. They’ve got butt-ugly in every shade you could want.”
Cathy frowned at the item in question. “You truly don’t like it?”
“I truly don’t like it. Think about it. They’re cleaning out their yarn bins and charging top dollar to unsuspecting out-of-staters. Trust me. Go with the blue one. The blue one is nice. And it’s still handmade right here in Sugar Falls.”
She picked up the blue. “You’re right. What was I thinking? But did you feel it? The wool is so soft.” She grinned. “Even on the butt-ugly one.”
“But given the choice, which would you choose?”
Her lips tilted provocatively as she brushed the hair at his temple with her fingertips. “Hmm. I see your point.” Then she turned to make her purchase.
With yet another bag swinging from her arm, she met him at the edge of the tent. He eyed the darkening sky overhead.
“I hate to rush you, but that’s the third clap of thunder I’ve heard in the last ten minutes. I think we’re building up to a storm.”
“I know. I know. I just want to make it to the wrought-iron demonstration before we leave. All I want is to pick up a business card and then we can be on our way. I promise.”
“Fine.”
She smiled and linked her elbow with his again. “You’re being an awfully good sport about this.”
“I haven’t been here for a few years. I’ve enjoyed myself.”
“Really?” For once the cool, confident demeanor slipped just a little and Jim found himself wishing again for the confidant woman who wouldn’t be hurt when he begged off and went home.
“Really,” he said instead.
She grinned. “Me, too.”
Cathy had just finished talking with the blacksmith about options for a small garden gate when the skies opened up. They dashed toward the parking lot with other fair-goers, their feet splashing in the quickly forming puddles.
They reached her car first. The lights flashed as she beeped open the locks. “Get in! Quickly!” she laughed as she threw her purchases into the trunk and dove into the front seat. She pushed open the passenger door from inside. “Come on! You’re getting soaked!”
“But your seats are leather...”
She grabbed Jim’s hand and tugged, and he sank into the interior of her Porsche and closed the door. “Cathy, your seats...”
“They’ll dry. But I didn’t want you to melt.”
“I don’t think that’s likely.” He shook his head, instantly regretting the movement, as it sent water droplets spattering across the dash. “Shoot. I’m sorry.” He swiped across the water droplets with his hand and only ended up smearing them with more water from his palm.
She laughed then, a rich, throaty sound that filled the warm interior of the car. “Look at us! We’re soaked!”
“I know. I’m...” He turned and for the first time noticed the effect of the rain on her white sundress. Good Lord. Did this woman even own a bra? He swallowed and met her eyes.
“Wet,” she finished for him.
His pulse thudded in his ears as the smile slid from her face to be replaced by a look he couldn’t fail to recognize. She leaned forward, reached behind him and pulled a beach towel from the floor in the back seat. She tossed it onto his lap. “I should apologize. If I hadn’t insisted on going to one last exhibit we would have been on our way by now.”
He cleared his throat. “It’s okay. I grew up on the lake. I’m used to... getting wet.” The rain pounded the outside of the car.
Her lips tilted. “Even so...” Her hand rose and wiped his cheek. It was a casual, yet intimat
e, caress. “I owe you. Maybe if we go back to my place, dry off, I can think of something to make it up to you?”
Before he could think of an answer, she’d put a key in the ignition and the car into gear.
There was no reason not to go to her place. He wasn’t in a relationship. Kate had made that perfectly clear. And here was Cathy—a real, living, breathing, attractive female. And she wanted him.
So the problem was?
The automatic door opener lifted as they turned down her drive, and soon he was stepping into the dry, dim interior of her well-appointed garage. He was silent as he followed Cathy through a cobble-paved covered entry to her back porch. She smiled almost shyly as she pushed the door open and held it for him to enter.
He ran a hand through his damp hair and forced a smile to his face as he watched her kick off the strappy little sandals she’d worn to the fair and toss them on the floor by the door.
“I’ll get you a towel.”
She was gone again before he could utter a reply, but seeing as he didn’t know what to say to the woman, it was probably for the best. He listened to the steady beat of rain on the roof. And waited.
She soon returned, a fat white towel in hand. She passed it to him as she swiped a hand through her own hair. A droplet of water slid around her neck and over her collarbone. He watched as it hovered a moment on the surface of her skin before sinking in. She smiled and turned away.
“Can I get you a drink? Or, are you wet enough?”
“A drink would be great. Anything.”
She pulled two bottles out of the fridge and pushed the door closed with her hip. Her skin glistened. She opened the bottles and passed one to him.
“Seeing as we’re already wet, how’d you like to christen the hot tub? They haven’t finished all the tile-work around it, but I happen to know the spa is up and running...”
“I don’t have a...”
At one knowingly raised brow, he let his words trail off. Duh. She knew that.
He watched her raise the brown bottle to her lips. Watched her slim throat work as she swallowed. She was beautiful. Stunning, even. Warm. Intelligent. Uninhibited.
So why didn’t he feel more?
He took a long swallow from his own bottle and set it on the island. Screw it. He had to stop thinking about Kate. Kate wasn’t happening. He was a fool if he didn’t accept the open invitation of the woman right in front of him.
His hand hovered at the hem of his shirt. “Do you mind? It’s soaked through.”
She grinned. “By all means. I want you to be comfortable.”
He sucked in a breath and let it out as he yanked the shirt over his head. It felt hot and clammy in his fist. He set it over a barstool to dry.
Cathy stared at him with open admiration. “Well don’t stop there.”
He took a mental step back. Was he supposed to strip naked in front of her on their first date? He dipped his head. “Ladies first.”
She smiled then, a slow, feline grin and reached behind her to unzip her dress. She had to tug a little at each shoulder for the damp fabric to give up its hold on her flesh, but it was soon a puddle at her feet as she stood before him in nothing more than a wisp of white satin panties.
She had no tan lines.
She licked her lips and stepped forward to stand toe-to-toe with him, then reached up and brushed the hair from his temple. “You have the most beautiful eyes,” she whispered.
“Thanks.”
Her lips curved seductively as her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I’ve wanted to kiss you from the first moment I opened my front door.”
“Did you?”
“Mmm. Does that surprise you?”
“Not much surprises me anymore.”
She chuckled, the warm, throaty sound filling the room. “That can be fixed.” She stood on tip-toe, her eyes holding his gaze as she leaned forward and feather-touched her lips to his.
She watched as she did it, which should have been sexy as hell.
She tugged at his hand. “Come,” she urged, trying to pull him toward wherever the spa was.
He stooped to pull off a water-logged sneaker and stopped as his beeper dug into his side. He unclipped it from his waistband and held it in his palm.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“My beeper. I’m on call—Fire Department.”
“Good to know. I sense things are beginning to heat up.” Her hand closed over his. “But don’t you think we could leave it here? I’d hate to be interrupted.”
She turned, and that’s when he realized she wasn’t wearing panties. The thin strap of her thong disappeared between two perfectly golden orbs.
No tan lines. No tan lines at all.
He sighed, knowing what he was about to do was probably going to make life difficult down the line, but screw it. To hell with what other people said he should or shouldn’t do.
He clipped the beeper back onto his waistband and reached for his shirt.
July 24
Goals. The simple ones are the easiest to accomplish. Get up. Brush teeth. Clean the kitchen. It’s the major goals I have trouble with. I have so many unfinished projects littering my past, I sometimes wonder why I start anything. I know life will interrupt. It ALWAYS does. And then what? So I ask you: Is drifting through life such a horrible, terrible thing?
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
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KATE SAT BACK ON HER HEELS and assessed the growing mound of weeds beside her. She’d slowly made her way around the cottage, weeding the old perennial beds, resetting the stone borders. It was tiresome work, but therapeutic. It felt good to put some order back into something lovely and neglected. At least, in one small way, she could make something right. Plus, it had the added benefit of allowing her to feel productive while ignoring the wall of terror that threatened to wash over her every time she thought about her future.
“Jim gived me a job!” Liam suddenly announced, running up the front path toward Kate.
“A job?” She stood and stretched from her crouch near her weeding bucket. The last she’d seen of Liam, he’d followed Jim to the tool shed, a small black cat trailing behind them. “What kind of job?”
“I feed Mudge!”
“What’s a mudge?”
“The cat. Smudge,” Jim clarified, strolling up behind Liam.
“Jim paid you for feeding his cat today?” she asked. “Wow. That was awfully nice of him.”
Liam shook his head. “No. Evewy day! I feed Mudge evewy day!”
Something of her confusion must have shown in her face, because Jim shrugged. “It’s fine with me. He knows where I keep the food bin in the shed. Smudge will appreciate the extra attention.”
“Wow,” Kate said, as much to Jim as Liam. “Are you sure? That’s a big responsibility.”
Liam nodded. “Jim says we should take care of wittle thins can’t take care of ‘emselves. An’ he give me money!”
“That’s nice, but I’m not sure Jim wants to pay you every day, honey...”
“We haven’t discussed terms,” Jim said. “But he seemed to want to help out with the family finances.”
Heat warmed Kate’s cheeks. It was true she’d told Liam they had to watch their pennies now, but she hoped he hadn’t given Jim the impression they were in need of a Widows and Orphans fund. “I see.” She crouched in front of her son. “Honey, you don’t have to earn money. It’s wonderful that you want to help take care of Smudge, but maybe we could do it as a favor to Jim. That’s what friends and neighbors do for one another. They help each other out.”
Liam’s face fell. “He not give me money?”
Jim crouched next to Liam. “Tell you what. How about you go wash up inside and I’ll talk to your mom in private for a minute or two. She and I will negotiate your contract, okay?”
Liam clearly didn’t know what that meant, but it must have sounded important given Jim’s tone, because he nodded and ran inside the house without further argument.
>
“You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t,” Jim said, standing again, “but that’s what friends and neighbors do. They help each other out. I’ll give him a nickel a day.”
“You don’t have to pay him—”
“Okay, ten cents.”
“Jim, he’s only three. He doesn’t—”
“Fine. You’ve worn me down. A quarter a day, and that’s my final offer.”
She couldn’t help but match his smile. “What’s he going to spend it on?”
“He’s only three. He’ll earn seventy-five cents, tops, before he loses interest. He can buy another toy car.” Of course, he was right. But being right only made him more charming.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Maybe I want to help him support the family. So what’s this I hear about you needing a job?”
She waved a hand dismissively and pretended to focus her entire attention on eradicating a dandelion. So that’s what this was about. “He must have misunderstood something he overheard.”
Jim held up a hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to get into it if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s not—” She blew out a breath and stood up. “I’m not trying to hide anything. I just... I haven’t figured out my next step.” She gave a half-hearted chuckle as she dumped her weeding implements into a bucket. She glanced at the pile of books on the table near the porch swing. “That would require my knowing what I want to do with my life.”
Jim followed her gaze and she cursed the clearly visible spines. What’s Your True Calling? Beyond Hobbies. Design Your Future. Careers, Jobs and Internships. Work as Play.
“Looks like you’re going through a bit of an identity crisis. You’re Kate, by the way.”
“That part I knew.”
He gestured towards the books. “That’s quite the stack. I mean, I understand you’re at something of a turning point in your life, but it seems like a heavy load—literally—to carry around at this point. Why don’t you give yourself a break?”