Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
S unflowers weren’t enough to lift the cloud that followed Della home.
They’d almost kissed.
Her warden had almost, but not quite, kissed her. They had a real moment. An I-want-you-and-you-want-me moment, and then…nothing happened.
Well, not exactly nothing.
His rejection there in the field stole her breath, but when it ambushed her in the middle of the night, it really started to hurt.
The next morning was cold and quiet. Ward wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t in the backyard.
The office door was closed. He was probably in there. She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated. He hadn’t said a word on the drive home. Not one.
Still. Nothing ventured…nothing won, or something like that.
She knocked. “Good morning! Want some coffee?”
A beat. Then two.
“No.” Another beat. “Thanks.”
Della’s chest hurt. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”
She sounded pathetic.
Her warden had changed from the man she wished would go away to the man whose attention she desperately wanted, and he’d made it very clear she’d never have it, or him.
She wandered into the living room and flopped down on the couch. The book she’d been reading taunted her.
She wanted that moment on the cover. She wanted Ward to press her up against a tree and look at her like he’d do anything to have her.
That obviously wasn’t going to happen.
Stupid book. Making her want something she couldn’t have.
It was sunny outside, but cold air pushed through the drafty windows. Her flannel shirt wasn’t warm enough, but she couldn’t find the energy to go scrounge up something warmer.
She could light a fire to drive out the chill. They certainly had enough wood.
Della glared at her book. “You didn’t tell me it could end before it even started.”
She tossed the book aside and buried her face in her hands. She wanted to call her sisters so much that it brought tears to her eyes, but she brushed them away.
She couldn’t…wouldn’t…do that.
As long as the stalker was out there, she was Lucy Carmichael, and Lucy didn’t have sisters.
Had she become Lucy so completely that she’d dreamed what happened in that field?
No.
“This is ridiculous. I’m not a teenage girl with a crush,” she told the sunflowers in the vase by the couch.
The sunflowers gave her side-eye.
“I’m not.” She huffed out an exasperated sigh and marched back into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, lacing it with generous amounts of cream and sugar. Piper would hate the fake cinnamon in the single-cup packet she used.
Della didn’t like it much either, but it was this or ice water, and she wanted the heat.
She cupped the warm mug in her hands and was about to leave the kitchen when she heard the sound of an axe on wood. She hadn’t heard Ward go outside, but the office door was open now, and he definitely hadn’t gone upstairs.
She peeked through the curtains. If she couldn’t have Ward’s attention, she could at least admire the view.
Watching him chop wood was a special kind of torture. He looked fantastic in his usual uniform of dark gray dress shirt and dark jeans, but he looked even better with his shirt off.
Morning sun glinted off his chest when he lifted the axe. He looked like Thor or He-Man, all hard and strong and ready to take on all the bad guys.
His face tightened with concentration, and his biceps rippled as the axe came down, which triggered all sorts of visions of how his arms would feel wrapped around her. She’d had a taste of that yesterday, and it left her wanting more. A lot more.
When he turned to get another log, she sloshed coffee all over the windowsill.
Sweet baby Jesus, she’d never been so turned on by a man’s back before. He looked like he could do a thousand pull-ups and run a hundred miles and still go for more. His jeans rode low on his hips, giving a tantalizing peek of areas she’d like to explore.
If he looked this good without a shirt, what did the rest of him look like?
Had the heat come on? It was a lot hotter in the kitchen for some reason.
The man should be on calendars or magazine covers. None of the Hollywood A-listers she’d partied with even came close to what she was looking at right now. She’d never be able to look at Scott the same way again, the poor guy.
Before she met her warden, she’d been happy moving from place to place, party to party. “Have a little fun” used to be her goal and her motto.
But now she’d seen his home and his town and his family. She’d seen him , and everything she used to want felt childish and empty.
She wanted what her sisters had.
She wanted someone who would look at her the way Renic looked at Lizzie. Someone who would go over the top to make her happy like Adam did for Mattie. Someone who would travel the world with her just to show her how the stars looked like Blake did for Piper.
Ward was the kind of man who would stand between her and a bullet without hesitation.
He was thoughtful enough to take her somewhere she’d wanted to go, even though she never asked.
But then he walked away instead of kissing her.
She wanted him, but he didn’t want her back.
Somewhere in the past few weeks, her pretend relationship had stopped being pretend for her.
But apparently not for him.
Her eyes burned at that thought.
She swallowed some of the vile coffee, but it didn’t help.
Irritated with herself, she went to the back door and thrust it open. “Hey!”
Ward finished his swing.
Thwack!
He shoved the two pieces to the side, then looked up, eyebrows raised. The slight sheen of sweat along his chest made him glow.
She wanted to tackle him right there. “I need to go in to work early tomorrow. Really early. Like, let’s-take-donuts-for-everybody early.”
He gave a brief nod, then picked up another log.
She slammed the door, stalked back to the living room, and started a fire.
The next day, they didn’t hold hands on the walk from the truck to Sevens. The second they crossed the threshold Ward headed to the corner booth without a word. He opened his laptop and buried himself in whatever it was he stared at all day.
She felt like the girl left standing alone at a high school dance, conspicuous and confused. She’d never been to one, but she imagined it felt exactly like this.
She watched him for a few seconds, torn between demanding he stop treating her like she had some sort of plague and dumping a glass of ice water on his head.
Picturing him cold and dripping wet cheered her up a little.
“Hey, Lucy.” Ralph greeted her with a little wave. “Delivery’s here. Can you go through the boxes and let me know if anything’s missing? There’s a list by the door.”
“Sure, Ralph.” She gave him what had to be a feeble smile because his eyebrows drooped in concern.
“Everything okay?” He glanced at his son, then back at her. “You two have a fight?”
“No. Everything’s fine.” She let out a rueful little laugh and used a partial truth to lie to his face. She was getting really good at that. “I ruined lunch, that’s all. I tried to bake chicken and failed miserably. I’m not a good cook.”
“Oh. That’s no big deal. I can teach you some basics. When it’s not busy, you come into the kitchen and I’ll show you how to make the juiciest chicken breasts right on the stovetop. It’s easy peasy.” He snapped his fingers, then gave her a wink.
“That would be great. I’ll take you up on that.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’ll get to unpacking.”
“It’ll be busy today, I bet. Be sure to get a bite before the rush hits.”
“I will.” She resisted the urge to give him a hug for the kind consideration.
She had such a soft spot for older men. They all reminded her of her daddy. If she didn’t get control of herself, she would wind up spilling her entire life to the man, which would be bad. Very bad.
Once he knew the truth, would Ralph still want to teach her how to cook?
Would she see any of these people again?
She was so used to people flitting in and out of her life that she didn’t usually give it much thought. She had her sisters and that was enough.
But…she’d miss this place and these people. She’d miss them a lot.
Feeling dejected, she went to unpack boxes.
The storeroom was down the hall past the bathrooms, behind the kitchen. Since they weren’t open yet, the place was so quiet she could hear the radio in the kitchen. A Shania Twain song she loved came on, and she found herself humming along under her breath.
Shania Twain always lifted her mood.
She wiggled her hips to the beat and danced the cans into place.
At the chorus, she raised one hand high into the air and sang along without thinking. “‘The best part about being a woman…’”
She tossed a can of beans onto the shelf, then grabbed another.
“Wow. You’re a really good singer,” a voice said from the doorway.
Startled, she squealed and spun around.
Mason carried a box into the room and set it down on top of a stack.
“You scared me.” Her heart pounded all the way up into her throat.
She’d been singing.
She wasn’t supposed to be singing.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Mason opened a box and started unpacking. “You should think about signing up for the talent show. Bet you’d win.”
A second dose of adrenaline kicked her heart up another notch. “Oh no. I can’t do that,” she blurted.
“Why not?”
“I…um…” Della didn’t have a good reason ready. All she could think about was that Ward was absolutely going to kill her if he found out she’d been singing.
Never mind that his little brother had heard her.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Deflect , was all she could think. Deflect and distract .
“Were you in the show last year?” she asked.
He half shrugged. “Won the Most Likely to Try Again trophy.”
She didn’t think he’d recognized her voice. He wasn’t acting like it, anyway. “It sounds like there’s a story there. What happened?”
“What didn’t.” He turned away to put another can on the shelf. “It was supposed to be me on guitar and lead vocal, Grand on drums and backup, and Scott on keyboard, but Scott got sick, so it was just me and Grand. One of my strings broke right as we got started. Left us sounding like a demented duck with anger issues.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh…I’m sorry. That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.” He flashed her a grin. “You want to see it, there’s video all over social media. Anyway, with the new guitar you and Storm got me, I was hoping this year would be different.”
“Are the three of you going to form a band?” She moved her empty box aside and started on the next.
“Nah. Scott’s done with that kind of thing. And Grand’s too busy with the holiday production. So it’s just me doing the show. If I do.” He didn’t sound sure about it.
It made her curious. Why had he pushed through all the embarrassment last year, only to hold out now? “Are you worried about doing it solo?”
“Nah. I do a lot of karaoke. I can handle that.”
“Something’s changed, though, or you wouldn’t have said if,” she said. “What’s the holdup?”
Mason ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve been working on my own song. But I don’t think I can do it.”
“Why not?”
He was such a sweet kid. She wanted to help him, but how could she do that without blowing her cover?
Piper’s nagging voice sounded in her head. You promised to behave, DellBell.
Stupid voice, making sense like that. Della shoved it aside.
“I’m not a songwriter,” Mason said. “It was just this stupid set of lines that I wrote for English class. I tried putting them to some random chords on that new guitar and, well, it seemed okay in the garage. But it’s not ready.”
He meant he wasn’t ready.
She smiled encouragingly at him. “Let me be the judge of that.”
“Huh?” He looked startled.
“Sing it for me. No guitar.” Della waved at the empty room. “Just you and the cans.”
“Nah, you don’t want to hear this.” He threw his empty box out of the way, then opened another. “It’s just some random shi—stuff. Nothing like Shania Twain.”
“You know, she started just like you. She just played around with poems and a guitar on her back porch.”
Actually, Piper and Mattie had done that. Della didn’t know anything about Shania Twain. She ran in completely different circles from The Bellamy Sisters.
But Della knew most musicians started out in a storeroom, or a garage, or on a back porch with an idea, a dream, and a need that wouldn’t quit.
One day maybe she could introduce her sisters to Mason. Mattie could give him some lessons and songwriting tips.
“Go on.” She waved at him. “Let me hear it.”
He shook his head. “Okay, but remember it’s not finished. It’s…”
“Just sing,” she said with a laugh. “You’re at karaoke, and there’s a ton of noise, and nobody’s really listening. Just go.”
He visibly relaxed his shoulders and cleared his throat. “Okay. Here goes.”
His voice was a little shaky at first, but then it smoothed out into a deep, soul-tingling baritone that sent a delicious tingle up and down her spine. He was a young Johnny Cash, without the twang.
His voice could reach straight into a woman’s heart and set it on fire.
Good God, if Renic were in here right now to hear this…
Della thanked all the stars in heaven that he wasn’t. Ward thought his little brother was either playing professional football or going to college to study business.
If any talent scout ever heard Mason sing, college would never happen.
He was a diamond, hiding in a storeroom.
Mason looked everywhere but at her while he sang. His shyness was so cute. She wanted to clap and cheer, but that would ruin the moment and bring people running, so she kept her hands tucked at her sides and just listened.
The song was short but full of passion about a girl named Emily.
Mason obviously had a crush on this girl. It wasn’t that he was too shy to sing his own song. He was too shy to sing a song about the girl he had a crush on in front of an audience that she suspected would include Emily.
When he finished, he shot her a hopeful look.
“Now that ’ s a winning song.” She bounced up from her perch, clasped her hands tight, and beamed at him. “Mason, I’m telling you if you sing that song every girl in the audience is going to melt at your feet. They’re also going to be extremely jealous of Emily. Who is she?”
“She’s just a friend. She’s been my best friend since elementary school.” He sat on the edge of one of the bigger boxes. “You really think it’s good enough? I feel like it’s still rough in the middle.”
She waved that concern away. “Trust me, all anybody is going to notice is that fantastic voice you’ve been hiding. Your brother told me you practice all the time in the garage, but he never said how good you are.”
Mason’s crooked smile spoke volumes. “He’s not really a fan of music in general. He’s basically tone deaf.”
“Really? That explains so much.” She shook her head. No wonder he never sang along with the radio.
“You know, if you sang with me we’d kick everybody’s ass.” Mason’s face lit up. “We could turn it into a duet.”
“Oh…um…” She fumbled for what to say to that. “I can’t.”
“Don’t tell me you’re shy. You’re the least shy person I’ve ever met.”
He had his brother’s stubborn streak. She wasn’t going to get away with a simple brush-off. She had to come up with something that made sense because she absolutely, positively, could not say yes, and not because she was in hiding. She didn’t want to steal any of the spotlight from Mason. He needed to be heard.
“It’s not that. It’s…well, it’s…the thing is…I’m not supposed to be singing at all. Can you do me a huge, huge favor?” She gave him her best puppy dog eyes. “Please don’t tell your brother you heard me singing.”
He wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “Why the hell not?”
“It’s…” She fished around for a reason. Anything. Then inspiration struck. “It’s a bet we have going. Yeah. He bet me that I couldn’t go for, uh, three months without singing or humming. I’m so close to winning I can taste it and I don’t want to lose. He’ll never let me hear the end of it. Please?”
She knew she had him the second his face took on the crafty look of a teenager about to screw with his older brother. “Oh really. How much?”
“Two thousand dollars.” She winked. “I could really, really use the money.”
He whistled. “Damn. You got it. I’d love to see him lose that kind of cash. Especially to you.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t have to fake her relief.
“No problem.” Mason broke down the empty boxes. “Hey, I’m still working on the last verse and the bridge. Would you mind helping me out? I’d like a girl’s take on it, and there’s really nobody else I can ask. Sam is too young, and Mom…no. Just no.”
“Oh.” She blinked.
Would that be breaking the rules? Ward hadn’t said anything about writing a song or helping someone else sing.
She had a feeling that was a technicality and that he absolutely would not approve of Della going anywhere near music in any way.
But the real question was how could Lucy, Donovan Ward’s girlfriend, say no to helping his little brother fine-tune a song he wrote to impress his childhood sweetheart?
Lucy, she decided, would never say no to that.
“Sure. I’m happy to help. But, um, let’s make it our secret, okay? Bring your guitar to work tomorrow and we can practice it here during breaks. That work?”
“Yeah, that’s great. I didn’t want anybody hearing it until it was ready anyway. Especially Emily.”
Della thought back to the birthday party and a pretty girl with dark hair and enormous brown eyes. “Was she wearing a blue dress at your party?”
“Yeah.” Mason picked up some of the flattened boxes. “I should have introduced you.”
“That’s okay. I’ll meet her soon.” Della picked up the remaining empty boxes.
“Lucy?” Mason paused at the door. “Thanks for listening.”
“It was my pleasure. Believe me.” She followed him out of the storeroom to the back door to dump the boxes into the recycling bin. Then she headed back to the dining room to get ready for the rush.
Friday night at Sevens was loud and energetic and completely packed.
Ward avoided her, but she saw him laughing with Mason, which left her wondering if Mason had spilled the beans about her singing.
No. Her warden wouldn’t be laughing if he’d found out about that.
Brick came in for an early dinner, and Ward greeted his old friend like he’d been rescued from purgatory.
Maybe he really did hate being around her. Did he still think of her as nothing more than a brainless pop princess?
Her heart twisted. Probably.
She was glad it was so busy. It gave her an excuse to look at Ward’s table without being obvious.
“You seem distracted, honey. Something wrong?” Cherry asked.
Della turned her back on the corner booth. “Not really.”
“Mhmm.” Cherry put two beer mugs on a tray. “What’s he done?”
“Nothing.” That was the plain truth. Ward hadn’t done a thing to her. That was the problem. Not that she could tell Cherry that.
“Really.” Cherry eyed her. “It doesn’t sound like a nothing. It sounds like a something.”
She couldn’t help it. Words blurted out of her before she could stop them. “Why are men so confusing?”
Cherry waved a hand. “Honey, men are pretty simple once you get down to the core of ’em. They want to feel appreciated and respected, and they want sex. Not necessarily in that order.”
Della laughed. “Something tells me you speak from personal experience.”
“Four kids in five years.” Cherry nodded sagely. “Look, whatever is going on, just think, This too shall pass . All you have to do is give it a little patience and time.”
“I’m not really known for patience,” she confessed.
“Patience don’t get you anywhere,” Ken interrupted. “Patience is where careers go to die. Take me for example. I came here with five bucks in my pocket and a dream of Broadway. Thought I was going to have to sleep in the dumpster out back. But did I wait patiently hoping someone would see me? No, I did not. I stormed straight into the opera house and demanded an audition. Next thing you know, I have a part in the holiday production, a bank account, and good friends like Cherry here.”
Della tried hard not to look in Ward’s direction. Really, she did. But she found herself staring at him all the same. “You think I should just say what I want? Give an ultimatum?”
“Oh no,” Cherry said. “Ultimatums don’t work when it comes to matters of the heart. Persuasion and a little liquor might, though. Or better yet, ignore him. I get the most attention when I pretend like my man’s not even in the room.” Cherry gave Ken a side hug. “You know I love you, Ken, but if you don’t get me that margarita, there’s going to be a riot. I have happy hour ladies in desperate need of liquid refreshment.”
“I’m getting to it.” Ken picked up a glass and started to pour. “Lucy, if that man doesn’t appreciate you the way you deserve to be appreciated, you let me know. I’ll be happy to show you what that word means.”
“Ken, honey,” Cherry said, “you’re not into girls, not to mention her boyfriend could kill you and nobody would ever find your body.”
He held up his hands. “I’m an actor, I can play straight. Besides, the best way to show him what he has is by showing him he’s not the only option.”
“Thanks, Ken, I appreciate that pep talk.” Della gave him a quick hug. “You’re a good man.”
“I’m a great man.” Ken winked at her, then sauntered down to the other end of the bar.
Her coworkers meant to be encouraging, but all the conversation did was make Della’s heart sink.
This was all temporary, and her relationship wasn’t even real. Ward had made that clear enough.
She sure wished it were, though. She wanted it to be real so much that it was hard to get a deep breath.
Cherry glanced at the table where Ward had burrowed in like a mole. “You got yourself a good man there, honey. He had a tough start, and it’s made him into a bit of a stubborn ass sometimes, but don’t you worry about that. He’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, just walk through the living room naked. Trust me, that will end every argument.”
Della giggled because she knew it was supposed to be funny. “I better get back to my tables.”
Cherry picked up her tray of drinks. “Whatever’s going on, it will pass. I promise. The only stink that stays is that musty towel smell. The rest usually comes out in the wash.”
Della wrinkled her nose. “Eww. Gross.”
Cherry winked and carried her tray out into the crowd.
Della put on her stage smile and checked in on table seven, three college-age guys who looked like they did a lot of heavy lifting. They flirted and joked with her, and she spent a little more time there than she probably should have because it lifted her mood.
When she moved on to the next table, she caught Ward glaring at her from the corner of her eye.
What the hell had she done now?
Then she realized he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at someone beyond her.
She followed his gaze straight to Ken.
Was he jealous?
No. Not of her. He didn’t even like her.
He was probably pretending to be jealous of Lucy. That made sense.
The little ache in her heart that had followed her around all day grew.
She wanted his jealousy to be real.
She wanted him to want her the way she wanted him.
Ah hell.
It was worse than that.
She was pretty sure she’d fallen in love with her warden.