Chapter 8
Ellyn
“Mom, shouldn’t you be sitting?” Meghan admonishes when she sees me standing in the middle of the kitchen.
“The doctor said I’m okay to stand for short amounts of time. It doesn’t even hurt,” I say, holding out my arms, showing her that I’m fine.
Meghan frowns. “Short periods of time. Not in here, making yourself a whole meal.” She moves over to me, taking the butterknife out of my hand.
“I was just making a sandwich.”
“I’ll do it,” she counters. “You go sit down.”
“Bossy.”
She snorts before moving to the refrigerator to grab the cold cuts and other items for my sandwich.
“I could do it myself,” I grumble while also hobbling over to the kitchen island to sit in one of the white, cushioned leather chairs there.
“I can bring your food to the couch,” Meghan tosses over her shoulder.
“Here will do. If I spend another minute on that couch, I’m going to go mad.” It’s been six days since my accident. Though still sore, my hip and wrist are on the mend.
While my wrist is still in a cast, I give it one or two more weeks, at most, before I can get it taken off. And my hip will be fine in another few days.
“I got lucky,” I tell Meghan as she makes my lunch, her back turned to me. “That fall could’ve been a lot worse says the doctor.”
She gives me a look over her shoulder, sadness invading her eyes. “Please don’t remind me. I don’t even want to think what would’ve happened if it had been worse. Or, if Mr. Townsend hadn’t heard you yelling for help.”
She moves from the counter to lean her elbows on the island.
“I know you like living alone here, but I hate that you’re so far away.”
I pat her hand. “Your Aunt Wanda is only fifteen minutes away.”
“But she was out of town when you fell,” Meghan says. “What if—”
“Don’t start. I’m not moving back to Atlanta.”
“But what about all of your friends out there? At least Shanice is there, too. She’d be nearby in case something happened.”
“Your sister’s busy with her own life,” I remind my youngest. “Besides, she isn’t thinking about me.”
“Don’t say that,” Meghan tells me. “Didn’t she call as soon as she heard you were injured? And hasn’t she called every day since, to check up on you?”
“Yes, Ms. Future Public Defender,” I answer. “She has.”
“I’m just laying out my case. Shanice might still be a little hurt, but she loves you.”
I squeeze Meghan’s hand. “I know she loves me, baby. And I love her, too. So much.” I don’t go into more detail. Because I know it’s deeper than Meghan wants to admit.
There’s been a wedge between Shanice and me ever since the divorce.
“Let me finish …” Meghan trails off when the doorbell rings.
“I’ll—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “Sit back down. I’ll get it.” She rushes off toward the door.
“Who are you ordering around?” I call back, my pride not allowing me to take orders from my own child. “I’m still your mother.”
Meghan doesn’t respond because she’s opening the door for whoever’s on the other side.
“Mr. Townsend,” I hear her say. “What a surprise.”
My belly does a flip flop. I smooth down the nonexistent wrinkles of the rose cashmere sweater I wear and run my hands over my black trousers. I’m glad that I had Meghan style my hair into a Dutch braid with a few curled tendrils at the sides.
“I was just making Mom a late lunch. Have you eaten?” Meghan’s voice grows closer, along with the heavy footsteps of my neighbor.
I turn, feigning surprise the moment I see him. His hazel eyes meet mine, the frown on his face deepening.
A wrinkle appears in his forehead.
“Should you be sitting up like this? You’re going to make your injury worse.”
My heart flutters inside of my chest, and I suspect it has to do with the level of concern in his voice.
“I tried to tell her, but if you haven’t figured it out by now, my mother’s a little hardheaded,” Meghan answers.
I gasp. “You watch your mouth, young lady. I still keep a bar of soap to rinse that mouth out when necessary.”
Meghan frowns. “I didn’t even curse.”
“You called me hardheaded. That’s close enough.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she murmurs. “Mr. Townsend, please take a seat. I’ll make you a sandwich also.”
“I don’t need anything.”
Meghan waves him off. “Nonsense. You came all of this way, so you have to sit down and eat. I have to go run some errands anyway.”
I jut my head back in surprise because that’s news to me. We were going to be home for most of the day watching movies.
But I don’t say this out loud, especially not when Joel takes a seat in the chair next to me, his arm brushing against mine. Despite the sleeve of my sweater covering my skin, a rush of something warm, rich and just a little bit dark washes over me at his nearness.
I inhale what’s becoming an all-too-familiar scent, the smell of him.
I clear my throat.
“Hello, Joel,” I finally greet.
“Ellyn,” he says, removing his black Stetson and placing it in the empty chair beside him. “How’re you feelin’ today?”
His deep, rumbling voice sends a shockwave through my system. It’s the same question he’s asked me each day he’s stopped by since my fall. Which has been every single day.
Even if just for five minutes, he’s popped in to ask how I’m doing or if I need anything.
“I feel great. Went to the doctor earlier, and he says I’m healing nicely. He thinks I’ll be ready to go back to Pilates soon.”
This doesn’t make Joel smile the way I’d intended.
Instead, he allows his lazy gaze to roll over me, pausing at the cast on my wrist as if he can assess with his vision alone if what the doctor’s said is true or not.
“That’s not a good idea,” he finally declares.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Pilates is one of those exercise classes where you have to lean on your wrist to hold your bodyweight up, isn’t it?”
I smirk. “You’ve taken a class?”
He rolls his eyes. “Ridin’ horses and workin’ on the ranch is all of the exercise I need.”
“I bet it is,” I say, grinning.
Our eyes lock, and I swear I feel a heated exchange of energy. The darkening of Joel’s eyes from hazel to more green could have something to do with it.
Or it may be the way my heart rate quickens.
Better yet, it might have to do with the way he captures and holds my attention, refusing to let it go. Even when his gaze drops from my eyes to my lips, causing his eyes to darken even further, he holds my riveted attention.
“Would you look at the time?”
Meghan’s words startle me out of my trance. She slides two plates across the kitchen island, one in front of me and the other in front of Joel.
“I hope you like ham and cheese, Mr. Townsend,” Meghan says. “And strawberries.” She gestures to the cut-up slices of fruit beside the salad.
“Oh, almost forgot.” She turns toward the cabinet and grabs the tin of coconut macaroons. She plates a few macaroons before putting the plate on the table just out of reach.
“These are for after lunch,” she says, looking at me.
“Excuse you?”
“Dessert after food.” She smiles brightly. “That’s what you always told us.”
“Little girl, I am—”
“I have to run to the store and then across town,” Meghan says, exiting the kitchen. “Mr. Townsend, as always it was great to see you. Enjoy your lunch. Bye!”
I huff as I watch her leave without a backwards glance. A second later, the front door shuts, leaving Joel and me alone.
“You raise them, and then they grow up and act like you’re the child.”
A deep rumble emanates from him. It takes me a moment to realize he’s actually laughing.
“Tell me ’bout it.” He makes a sound at the back of his throat. “My oldest had the damn nerve to tell me I need to go to the doctor more. The boy made the appointment and everything. Then called the doctor to verify that I showed up.”
“No way.” I shake my head.
“Sure did.” He nods. “Like I wasn’t the one carting his ass around when he was in all of those damn sports as a kid.”
“Don’t even get me started. Meghan was in one sport or another year-round. Then once she got to high school, she joined the debate team and became involved in state and national level debate competitions.”
“Good preparation for law school, I imagine,” he says before taking a bite of his sandwich.
I forget my response because I become consumed with watching his jawline with his very present five o’clock shadow as he chews.
It’s not until he turns my way, that I force myself to look away.
“Aren’t you hungry?” He dips his head toward my plate.
My eyes roam to the coconut macaroons.
“Those are for after lunch.”
I ball my fist on my uninjured hip. “Are you trying to bully me along with my daughter?”
The half smile he gives me nearly stops my heart. Joel Townsend is one handsome man.
It’s not like I hadn’t noticed it before. But being this close, his overwhelming presence taking up space right next to me, magnifies his handsomeness in a way I wasn’t ready for.
“Depends,” he answers in a slow drawl. “Is it working?” He eyes my sandwich. “Eat.”
I reach for half of my sandwich. “I’m only eating because I want to. And I’m hungry.”
I don’t add that it’s also because I want one of those coconut macaroons.
Joel watches me until I swallow the bite of my sandwich. Appearing satisfied, he nods, and then proceeds to eat the rest of his sandwich.
We eat in a comfortable silence for a while, until both of us have finished our sandwiches and fruit slices.
“Macaroon?” I offer Joel at the same time I attempt to reach across the kitchen island for the plate. Unfortunately, I move too quickly, forgetting my injuries and end up putting too much pressure on my hip and wrist at the same time.
“Ah,” I call out when a jolt of pain shoots through me.
“Dammit,” Joel growls, surprising me. He’s up and on his feet in the blink of an eye.
“What are you doing?” I cry out when I find myself in his arms again. I don’t even know how I wound up here, or how he moved so fast.
But in that short amount of time, he’s scooped me up into his arms, exactly the same way he did off of my bathroom floor.
“You need to get back to the couch to rest before you make your injuries worse.”