Chapter 21 #2
“Hi. I just came to tell you I put your clean laundry on your bed.”
His head tilted, and his brow crinkled in a silent query.
Context, Ava. My hands leapt into an interpretive ballet as I explained, “Your dad wanted me to pass on a message to get your laundry. I was already in the house, and you’ve probably been working out here all day, so I just ...
did it for you.” I shoved those dancers into my pockets.
They did not know what they were doing. “Aaand, that sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.”
He stooped to pick up a toolbox and several extension cords. “Does, uh,” a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Does that mean your hands were on my underwear?”
Oh God, just wait till he sees his magazine!
Upon further reflection, I was almost positive it hadn’t been on the nightstand when we walked in. “Let me carry those. You’re supposed to be resting.”
He handed me the extension cords, but kept the heavier toolbox out of reach. “I like that you care.”
His tone held no sarcasm, no teasing finish.
Only unadulterated sincerity. So why did my mind flash to the outline of his body in his bedsheets?
It would appear the intimacy shared in grief opened a door I couldn’t seem to close.
Or maybe now that our bodies had connected, albeit clothed, the seal had been broken?
Who knew hugging was a gateway drug? I hid my burning complexion by pulling ahead as we walked back to the stable, but he matched my gait easily.
“Did you do your deep breathing exercises?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
“Eli …”
“We’ve been busy.”
“The doctor said five deep breaths, three times a day.”
“Yes, dear.”
I ignored the domesticity in his tone. “You won’t get anything done if your lung collapses, or if you end up with pneumonia!”
I pushed ahead, into the tack stall and slung the cables on a hook.
When I turned, he was right there, in my bubble again.
Only this time, it sent thrills up my spine.
Without a word, he caught my hand and placed it on his chest. The heavy thud of his heart ignited my fingertips.
Dangerous territory. When I tried to pull away, his grip tightened.
Beneath my palm, his chest inflated as he took a long breath in, then it sank on a slow exhale.
His eyes remained fixed on mine as he did it four more times.
“Happy?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
Six weeks. According to Dr. Kaplin, that’s how long ribs took to heal. So, I needed to get my head out of the crevices of his sheets.
His lips curved up. “Ava?”
And that lopsided smile. Seriously! It was like navigating a minefield! “Yes?”
“If you’re gonna hold me to doctor’s orders, please stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you wanna devour me.”
Not devour. For then there’d be nothing left for later. His focus flicked to my mouth, and his hand tightened around mine. Did kissing count as vigorous activity?
“Look, I know I’m not your husband, but …” He traced the edge of my ear, maybe tucking hair back in place, maybe just touching me. Either way was fine. Ever since knowing the safety of his arms, it’s all I could think about.
“But?” I prompted.
A knock rattled the tack stall entrance, stealing both our attentions. August stood there, his face unreadable, but I’m sure he knew what he had just interrupted. “Sorry, but Nina says she has to go.”
“Go?” I asked.
“Go. To the bano.”
“Oh.” I extracted my hand from Eli’s chest. “Yeah. Sure. Actually, we should head out. It’s getting late.” Dinner, bath time, and all those other responsible things. I was still a mom with a laundry list that never ended. “See you tomorrow?” I asked Eli.
He ran both palms over his hat, and with a pained expression, linked them behind his head. “Yeah. See ya.”
My phone buzzed as I pulled into our apartment complex. Finally, a number I recognized! “Hi Terry, I was wondering when you’d call.”
“Hey, hon.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “You throw together a pretty impressive pitch.”
“Think of what I could do with a few more weeks of fine-tuning.” I tucked my cell between my shoulder and ear, hopped out of the truck, and opened the passenger door for Nina.
“I always knew you had a good head on you.”
This all sounded positive. “So?”
“I rejected the other offer.”
Ha! Steven could eat his stupid, ostentatious heart out! I inhaled sharply to hold in the squeal.
Finally! Finally, the pieces were falling right!
“There are a few things, though …” I heard the kiss of paper as he sifted through pages on his end. “This plan for the entrance? Gotta tell you, those trees were a beast to keep up with.”
“But that’s what transformed the landscape into something so magical. You drive from a bland, arid desert into a hidden oasis.”
I loved those trees.
“You don’t have to make it exactly the same, you know. It won’t hurt my feelings.”
“I know.” Nina and I climbed the stairs to our unit.
“What about some of these costs?” he asked. “How are you going to recover that without any business?”
“That’s what the marketing plan on page six is for.” But it was a risk.
“And how long you gonna have before everything comes due?”
I grimaced. He’d hit on the one flaw in my plan. I unlocked the door and let Nina in first. “That’s why I’m working at the landscape place. The income will help cover daily operational costs. You’ll see that I intend to take out extra on the loan for renovations.”
Despite my confident rebuttal, he didn’t miss the facts. “You’re going to run a ranch and work a full-time job?”
I sighed, flipping on the living room light. His concern held validation, but what choice did I have?
“Pretty busy these days,” he drawled.
I stared at the twenty-year-old carpet. At the faded patches and stains from various furniture arrangements and families in transition like us. He only knew the half of it.
“But we work hard for the things we want, right, Terry?”
“I suppose so.”
“How about I come by tomorrow after work,” I suggested, “and answer any more questions you have about the business plan?” Face-to-face always held more gravity. People had a harder time saying “no” when you were staring right at them.
“Well, you know I always love a visit.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Sure. See you tomorrow, hon.”
I ended the call and dropped the phone on the Formica counter to evaluate the contents of my fridge.
It didn’t take long.
“Hey, Crackerjack!” I called. “You’re in luck. We’re having pizza tonight.”