Tie the Knot in Good Hope

by Cindy Kirk

  Lindsay stood her ground, knowing she was being reckless but not caring.

  His eyes glittered, looking more green than brown. Lindsay saw desire reflected in the hazel depths. He smelled of soap and a familiar, warm, male scent that made something tighten low in her abdomen. His hair was a rumpled mass, brushing the collar of his shirt.

  “I want to kiss you.” His husky voice had desire sliding like warm honey through her veins.

  Lindsay moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and saw his eyes grow dark. “What’s stopping you?”

  Ten

  Even before their lips melded, she knew the feel of his mouth, the softness, the warmth, the gentleness.

  Owen continued pressing his lips to hers teasingly, his mouth never completely pulling away. The dreamy kisses had shivers and tingles spiraling through her body.

  A hot riff of sensation traveled up her spine. When she heard herself groan, a low sound of want and need, Lindsay realized this was madness. She jerked from his arms with such force she stumbled.

  When he reached out a steadying hand this time, she didn’t take it.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him.

  She didn’t trust herself.

  Owen put a hand to his head as if waking up after a dream. Or was it a nightmare?

  But the fact that Lindsay stood less than three feet from him, her chest rising and falling as if she’d just finished a long race, told him he hadn’t been asleep.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

  For a second, all Owen could do was stare. He’d expected her to point at the door and order him to leave. It appeared he didn’t know Lindsay Lohmeier as well as he’d thought.

  “I haven’t eaten since this morning.” Lindsay took off the band holding most of her hair back. “It won’t be anything fancy.”

  “Ah, sure. Sounds good.” Owen shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if he should apologize for the kiss. Then again, she had invited him to kiss her. “Do you need help? I’ve got a few skills.”

  The relief that skittered across her face told him she was no more eager than he to discuss what had just happened. Sweeping difficult topics under the rug had become a habit while they were dating.

  Lindsay moved to the small kitchen adjacent to the living room. Pulling out a pan, she filled it with water and set it on the stove. “Is spaghetti okay with you? I don’t have any sauce, but I have shredded parmesan and butter.”

  “That works.” He glanced around the familiar kitchen with its blue gingham curtains, white cabinets and appliances. “How can I help?”

  He knew his way around this kitchen. When they’d been together, they’d spent more time at her apartment than at his house.

  “There’s a bag of broccoli in the freezer.” As she pulled a box of spaghetti from a drawer, she gestured with one hand. “You could stick it in the microwave.”

  Owen did as she asked, setting the timer for five minutes. He’d eaten at her place plenty of times and knew she loved to cook and bake. But when he’d retrieved the broccoli, he’d noticed her freezer was nearly empty. He wondered if he’d find the shelves of her refrigerator also bare.

  He hoped she wasn’t scrimping on food in order to save money. Owen understood what it was like being tight on money. During the early years of his marriage, he and Tessa had lived paycheck to paycheck. Eating everything in the cupboards to avoid going to the grocery store before he got paid was a common occurrence.

  The last thing Owen wanted was for Lindsay to live that life. Since he knew she’d refuse any offer of financial help, he’d have to make sure to take her out for meals or have her over to his place, where they’d use his groceries, not hers.

  His spirits lifted at the thought. Yes, that was an excellent solution.

  “Would you mind setting the table?”

  The kitchen was postage-stamp-sized, so when she turned from the stove, she was right there.

  He dropped his gaze to her mouth, to red lips that reminded him of ripe strawberries and tasted just as sweet.

  For a second, heat flared in her eyes, then disappeared, like a candle that had been suddenly extinguished.

  “I’ll get the plates on the table.” He slipped past her. Unable to resist touching her, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Like I said, anything I can do to help.”

  He meant every word.

  It wasn’t until Lindsay was setting the plates of spaghetti and steamed broccoli on the table that Owen noticed the bright blue stoneware canister on a nearby side table.

  While Lindsay filled their glasses with water, Owen removed the lid to reveal tiny scraps of folded paper. Gazing down at the rainbow of colors, his heart gave a lurch.

  Feeling Lindsay’s eyes on him, Owen replaced the lid. “It’s a gratitude box.” He didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “Mindy had one.”

  Lindsay, who’d taken her seat across the table from him, lifted her napkin and placed it on her lap with careful, precise movements. “Ami keeps one, too.”

  Owen told himself to let it drop, but the question came out before he could swallow it. “What will you write on that scrap of paper today?”

  “That’s easy.” Red lips curved. “I’m grateful for a healthy baby.”

  Owen gave a jerky nod, then busied himself sprinkling parmesan on the mound of spaghetti on his plate.

  “We never did talk about how you feel about having another daughter.”

  Another daughter.

  The words pricked his heart, drawing blood.

  He lifted his spoon, twirling the spaghetti around his fork, using the spoon the way his mother had taught him.

  “I never cared if the baby was a girl or a boy. All that’s important is a healthy child.” His fingers tightened around the fork. “Did you think the sex would make a difference to me?”

  Lindsay lowered her fork. “I knew the baby’s health would be the most important thing to you.”

  “Then why ask if it made a difference?”

  “I’m worried our baby being a girl might prove difficult for you.”

  He raised a brow, not following, but determined not to jump in and put words in her mouth.

  “Because of Mindy.” Lindsay sighed the words. “With comparisons.”

  “I’m sure there will be comparisons as our child grows and develops.”

  “It could be painful.” Lindsay hadn’t yet taken a bite of her dinner, and her pallor worried him. “For you. You’ll constantly think of Mindy.”

  When the first bite of pasta hit her lips, relief coursed through him. He waited until she’d stabbed a broccoli floret to respond.

  “Mindy is never far from my thoughts.” Owen hesitated. “Thinking of her doesn’t always hurt.”

  He gestured toward the gratitude jar. “Fin initially told Mindy that Ami had one. Mindy made me go out and get one that same day. I tried to get her to use one of the canisters in the cupboard, but that wouldn’t do.”

  Her lips curved. “I bet I know why.”

  “It wasn’t pink,” they said in unison, then laughed.

  Lindsay’s brows pulled together. “I don’t think I ever saw a jar at your house.”

  “Mindy kept it in her bedroom.” The door to which Owen kept firmly closed.

  “Other than being pink, what does it look like?” Lindsay stabbed another floret.

  “It’s actually a wooden box with figures of various princesses etched in pink on top of the lid.” The night of the wedding, Mindy’s last night on earth, she’d taken time to write something down. “Every night, without fail, she’d put something in there.”

  Lindsay’s gaze grew assessing, but before she could ask another question, he took himself off the hot seat.

  “What about you?” Owen shifted his chair just enough that the blue canister was out of his direct line of sight. “How do you feel about having a girl?”

  “A boy would have been fine with me.” Lindsay’s lips curved ever so slightly. “But I’m gl
ad she’s a girl. It seems it’d be easier for a single woman to raise a girl alone than a boy.”

  Her words scraped the sides of his heart.

  “You won’t be raising her alone,” Owen reminded her. “We’ll be raising her together.”

  “You’re right.” She reached for her water glass. “Of course, you’re right.”

  They ate in silence for a couple of minutes.

  “I’m glad we were able to discuss this issue in such a calm manner.” Lindsay met his gaze. “Everything I read says open communication is key.”

  Something in what she was saying made Owen uncomfortable, like an itch between his shoulder blades that he couldn’t quite reach.

  “The whole reason we’re spending time together is so we can be better parenting partners. I’d say today was a successful use of our time.”

  Use of our time? Was that how she classified their outing today?

  What about the kiss? Had that been on her checklist? A test to see if there was still any sizzle between them? Owen told himself not to be ridiculous. Romance didn’t play a part in any of this.

  “I made up a list of parenting questions.” Lindsay bit her lower lip. “It might be good for us to discuss one or two each time we’re together.”

  “Are there many questions?

  Her forkful of spaghetti hovered in the air. “Quite a few.”

  Which meant lots of reasons for them to be together. Owen nodded. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

  Owen told himself to wait until Lindsay contacted him, but he couldn’t get her empty freezer out of his mind. Then, like an angel from heaven, Gladys arrived at the garage with a sack of Honeycrisp apples.

  The former stage star had presented the fruit to him with a dramatic flourish, announcing they were a token of appreciation for taking such excellent care of Frank’s car.

  Owen had been ready to start a transmission rebuild when she’d swept through the door. Still, they’d talked for nearly fifteen minutes. A comment she made about Lindsay being crazy about Honeycrisp apples had him leaving work early.

  Owen slid behind the wheel of his truck, a sack of apples on the passenger seat and one in his hand. Biting into the shiny red fruit had memories surging.

  An apple had been in his hand the day he and his mother had stopped at a Minneapolis fire station. Though only three years old at the time, Owen recalled that day vividly.

  He remembered running toward the fire truck, excited to be so close to one of the big engines. When he turned to ask his mom if he could climb on it, she’d disappeared. Vanished without a trace. He was able to tell the firefighters his name was Owen, but nothing else.

  Owen tossed the apple into the plastic bag he kept in the truck for garbage. It struck him as fitting. That day, his mother had discarded him like he was a piece of garbage.

  Thankfully, Owen had become adept at keeping memories and feelings at bay. This afternoon was about Lindsay and making sure she had everything she needed. Which was why, on the way to her apartment, he made a quick stop at the market. He emerged minutes later with a full sack of groceries. Owen would have bought out the store, but believed he stood a better chance of her accepting one bag.

  If she balked, he’d insist the apples were from Gladys and the groceries were his way of saying thanks for letting him attend the ultrasound on Monday with her.

  His body hummed with anticipation on the drive to her apartment building. Not because he thought he’d get another kiss, but with the hope he could convince her to go out to dinner with him. Muddy Boots had their meatloaf on special tonight.

  He took the steps to the third level, a bag in each arm. Setting them down, he knocked on the door. After several seconds, he knocked again. Still no answer.

  The food in the bags would keep, but—

  The door suddenly swung open. Lindsay stood there, a towel wrapped around her head and wearing nothing but a short, silky robe.

  “Owen.” Her gaze shifted to the sacks at his feet and her brows pulled together. “What are you doing here?”

  “Gladys stopped by—”

  Those were all the words he got out before Lindsay grabbed the handles of the paper sacks and motioned him inside. She smelled wonderful, some sort of lemony scent that was new. Or at least new to him.

  She inclined her head. “You said something about Gladys?”

  “Gladys?” Owen tried to corral his thoughts but finding her nearly naked had short-circuited his brain.

  Tiny droplets of moisture dotted her skin. A damp tendril of hair had escaped from the towel and curled against her cheek. If those signs weren’t enough to tell him he’d interrupted her shower, the way the silk robe clung to her bare skin confirmed it.

  He’d been in that shower with her, he recalled. Once. Just once, they’d shared the small space.

  “You said something about Gladys,” she prompted, cinching the belt of her robe tight.

  “She brought apples by the garage.” He forced himself to keep his gaze on her face. “She mentioned Honeycrisp are your favorite.”

  Lindsay had set down the bags. She bent over to glance inside. A smile bloomed on her lips. “I love them. But she gave the apples to you.”

  “I have plenty at home.” The suspicion in her eyes had him continuing, “My neighbor went to the orchards with his kids last weekend and brought some back for me.”

  “That was nice of them.” Lindsay cast a quick glance in the other bag and lifted a head of cauliflower. “Did Gladys also give you this?”

  “I stopped by the store and picked up a few staples.” When he saw a protest forming on her lips, he made his tone persuasive. “You did something nice for me. I wanted to do something nice for you.”

  Puzzlement blanketed her face. “What I did I do?”

  “You let me come with you to the ultrasound appointment.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s a stretch, but thank you. I-I haven’t been to the store lately.” Her hand rose to the towel encircling her hair. “Have you eaten dinner?”

  He shook his head.

  “Give me fifteen minutes to get dressed and dry my hair, and I’ll whip us up something.”

  “I have a better idea.” The last thing Owen wanted was for her to use her precious food to feed him. “It’s meatloaf night at Muddy Boots. Let me take you out to dinner.”

  Her look turned wary. “Why?

  “You mentioned you have lots of parenting questions to ask me.”

  “What does that have to do with eating out?”

  “Ask anyone.” He forced a light tone. “Conversation always flows more easily over meatloaf.”

  Eleven

  Stepping into Muddy Boots, Lindsay was surprised to see her sister and youngest nephew standing at the counter.

  “Cassie.” Lindsay gave her sister a hug and tousled Axl’s blond curls. “What are you doing here? Where are K.T. and Braxton?”

  “The boys are working on homecoming displays.” Cassie gave her youngest son’s hand a swing. “Axl and I are trying to decide which pie to buy. Then I’m headed home to make dinner.”

  Lindsay’s eyes went to the clock on the wall.

  Cassie’s chin jutted up. “I just got off work.”

  “That’s great.” Owen spoke in a hearty tone.

  Cassie blinked.

  Owen gave the toddler a poke in the ribs that had the boy giggling. “Since you haven’t eaten, you and Axl can join Lindsay and me for dinner.”

  Her sister started shaking her head even before Owen finished. Owen shot Lindsay an I need some help here look. Since Cassie was her sister, it fell to Lindsay to do the encouraging.

  Lindsay scooped Axl up into her arms. “C’mon, Cass. I hardly ever get to see you and this little cutie. Besides, meatloaf is on special. It’s the good kind, not Mom’s hideous recipe filled with broccoli.”

  “Hers is pretty awful.” Cassie laughed, then slanted a glance at Owen. “Are you sure you don’t mind me interrupting your date?”
r />   “We don’t mind.” Lindsay spoke in a firm tone that brooked no argument.

  She ignored Owen’s curious look. No doubt, he was wondering why she didn’t correct her sister about this being a date. The truth was, she wasn’t sure herself.

  The hostess, a teenager Lindsay vaguely recognized from church, showed them to a table, then brought over a booster seat for Axl.

  The second they sat down, Cassie slipped several cars from her purse. It wasn’t long before Owen and Axl were zooming the brightly colored metal cars across the table.

  He would do well with a son, too, Lindsay thought.

  The waitress had just dropped off their drinks when Axl threw his car to the table with a clatter. “I have to go to the baffroom.” The boy spoke loudly.

  A couple in a nearby booth chuckled.

  “Now.” The boy’s tone took on an urgency. “I have to go potty now.”

  Not having success with pushing back from the table, he rocked back and forth in his booster seat in an attempt to free himself.

  “I heard you.” Cassie stilled the motion of the seat with a firm hand. “There is no need to yell.”

  “I can take him.” Owen stood. “If that’s okay with you.”

  “Sure.” Cassie tucked a long strand of hair back from her face in a nervous gesture. “If you don’t mind.”

  “No trouble at all.” Owen shot Lindsay a wink. “We’ll be back soon.”

  Owen lifted the boy from the booster. “C’mon, sport.”

  “He’s a nice man.” Cassie watched as her son and Owen headed to the restrooms, the child’s hand firmly clasped in his.

  Lindsay nodded. “Yes, he’s very nice.”

  “I lied to you.” Cassie’s gaze shifted to her hands.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. What had her sister gotten herself into now?

  Lindsay took a sip of water. “What about?”

  “I didn’t just get off work.” Cassie blew out a breath. “I was at a psychologist’s office.”

  Lindsay frowned. “Is one of the boys in trouble?”