know the half of what Jack Hudson could make
good.
“Honey,” her mother added, “I’m putting the
canned jams in the cupboard and the refrigerator jams in the
refrigerator.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. She was buttoned.
Her hair was smoothed back into place. He’d stopped kissing her.
She felt absolutely bereft and she wondered why.
“You’re welcome.” Jack stood up and ran a
quick hand through his own hair before moving over to sit on the
hearth. She was going to be the death of him.
Approaching footsteps sent them both into
action, Lila picking up a book, and Jack putting another log on the
fire.
“Well, hey, Janie, look who’s here!” Lila’s
father spoke first. “I thought I recognized your truck, Jack. The
deck still looks great.”
“Glad to hear it, sir.” Jack extended his
hand for a hearty shake. He remembered the couple well, Kurt and
Janie Davis. Lila got her coloring from her father, a big,
dark-haired man in his late fifties with a perpetual smile and a
helluva handshake.
“We’re thinking about adding a gazebo in the
spring,” her mother said, and Jack knew exactly where Lila had
gotten her delicate bone structure and the sweet, breathless
quality in her voice. “Do you do gazebos?”
“Sure do. I even have a few designs of my
own. If you like, I can send you some pictures.”
“That would be lovely.” Janie turned to her
daughter. “What are you reading, dear?”
Lila glanced down at the book in her hands,
and for a fleeting second wondered if dyslexia was catching. She
didn’t recognize a single word. Her mother quickly cured her
momentary confusion.
“Maybe if you turned it around. I think I
recognize the cover.”
Lila blushed. She didn’t need to turn it
around. There were only two books in the living room, and Welding from A to Z and Beyond was still on the floor.
“ Night of the Hawk ,” her mother read,
tilting her honey-blond head far to one side. “I loved that book.
I’m so glad to see you’re doing a little recreational reading,
something relaxing. Although, if I recall correctly, this one is
more—exciting than relaxing.” She lifted the book out of her
daughter’s hand and turned it right side up. “Oh, my, yes,” she
murmured. “I remember this man.”
Lila’s blush deepened, but fortunately her
father and Jack were well into a conversation about redwood and
gazebos—a conversation Jack was destined to end the evening with.
After half an hour of two-by-fours and lattices, he conceded a
silent victory to Lila’s father. There was no getting rid of the
man, and he knew why. His daughter looked kissed.
Jack had done his best, both in kissing her
and in trying to disguise the fact, but even thirty minutes later
she still looked kissed and softly mussed. Her skin was flushed,
her mouth swollen, and most damning of all, he’d missed a button.
Her father wasn’t leaving, no way.
Jack kept up his end of the chitchat for
another fifteen minutes, holding out for a miracle before he
finally gave up. He extricated himself from the gazebo dream and
shook hands all around, holding on to Lila’s hand as he finished
his good-byes.
“Nice seeing you both again,” he said to her
parents. “Be sure to get in touch when you’re ready to start
building.” He took a step backward, pulling Lila with him toward
the kitchen and giving her father a look that said, Okay, you
win, but I’m taking five minutes. Relax. Nothing can happen in five
minutes. All the while he was wondering what he could fit into
five minutes of semi-privacy at her back door.
“I’m sorry about the lesson,” she said when
they were out of earshot and eyesight.
“We’ll
do better next time,” he said with a grin, slipping into his
jacket, then grasping her hands in his.
She didn’t resist when he placed her palms
on either side of his waist, or when he draped his arms over her
shoulders and drew her against his chest. She felt so right, so
good. He kissed the top of her
good.
“Honey,” her mother added, “I’m putting the
canned jams in the cupboard and the refrigerator jams in the
refrigerator.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. She was buttoned.
Her hair was smoothed back into place. He’d stopped kissing her.
She felt absolutely bereft and she wondered why.
“You’re welcome.” Jack stood up and ran a
quick hand through his own hair before moving over to sit on the
hearth. She was going to be the death of him.
Approaching footsteps sent them both into
action, Lila picking up a book, and Jack putting another log on the
fire.
“Well, hey, Janie, look who’s here!” Lila’s
father spoke first. “I thought I recognized your truck, Jack. The
deck still looks great.”
“Glad to hear it, sir.” Jack extended his
hand for a hearty shake. He remembered the couple well, Kurt and
Janie Davis. Lila got her coloring from her father, a big,
dark-haired man in his late fifties with a perpetual smile and a
helluva handshake.
“We’re thinking about adding a gazebo in the
spring,” her mother said, and Jack knew exactly where Lila had
gotten her delicate bone structure and the sweet, breathless
quality in her voice. “Do you do gazebos?”
“Sure do. I even have a few designs of my
own. If you like, I can send you some pictures.”
“That would be lovely.” Janie turned to her
daughter. “What are you reading, dear?”
Lila glanced down at the book in her hands,
and for a fleeting second wondered if dyslexia was catching. She
didn’t recognize a single word. Her mother quickly cured her
momentary confusion.
“Maybe if you turned it around. I think I
recognize the cover.”
Lila blushed. She didn’t need to turn it
around. There were only two books in the living room, and Welding from A to Z and Beyond was still on the floor.
“ Night of the Hawk ,” her mother read,
tilting her honey-blond head far to one side. “I loved that book.
I’m so glad to see you’re doing a little recreational reading,
something relaxing. Although, if I recall correctly, this one is
more—exciting than relaxing.” She lifted the book out of her
daughter’s hand and turned it right side up. “Oh, my, yes,” she
murmured. “I remember this man.”
Lila’s blush deepened, but fortunately her
father and Jack were well into a conversation about redwood and
gazebos—a conversation Jack was destined to end the evening with.
After half an hour of two-by-fours and lattices, he conceded a
silent victory to Lila’s father. There was no getting rid of the
man, and he knew why. His daughter looked kissed.
Jack had done his best, both in kissing her
and in trying to disguise the fact, but even thirty minutes later
she still looked kissed and softly mussed. Her skin was flushed,
her mouth swollen, and most damning of all, he’d missed a button.
Her father wasn’t leaving, no way.
Jack kept up his end of the chitchat for
another fifteen minutes, holding out for a miracle before he
finally gave up. He extricated himself from the gazebo dream and
shook hands all around, holding on to Lila’s hand as he finished
his good-byes.
“Nice seeing you both again,” he said to her
parents. “Be sure to get in touch when you’re ready to start
building.” He took a step backward, pulling Lila with him toward
the kitchen and giving her father a look that said, Okay, you
win, but I’m taking five minutes. Relax. Nothing can happen in five
minutes. All the while he was wondering what he could fit into
five minutes of semi-privacy at her back door.
“I’m sorry about the lesson,” she said when
they were out of earshot and eyesight.
“We’ll
do better next time,” he said with a grin, slipping into his
jacket, then grasping her hands in his.
She didn’t resist when he placed her palms
on either side of his waist, or when he draped his arms over her
shoulders and drew her against his chest. She felt so right, so
good. He kissed the top of her
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