A Wedding in Apple Grove (20 page)

He released her hand and sat back. “After the joke my ex-fiancée and ex–best friend played on me, I never laugh at anyone.”

Sensing there was a depth of emotion here, both raw and turbulent, she waited for him to say something else. When it was obvious he wasn't going to… yet… she glanced in the direction of the other table and leaned toward Dan. “I'm getting a friendly vibe from Honey B. and her date. What about you?”

His gaze swept the room and then slowly settled on Meg's friend. Up until he'd been dumped, royally flushed—whatever you wanted to call it—he'd thought himself a good judge of character. He'd been hesitant to trust his judgment since then—obviously, or he wouldn't have pushed Meg out the door the other morning. He owed it to Meg and because of her, her friend Honey B., to observe the couple's body language.

From a quick glance, without really hearing the couples' conversation, he had to agree. “I don't think she has anything to worry about tonight. He seems to be keeping a respectful distance and his body is definitely relaxed.” He paused to chuckle. “Maybe slouched is a better word. Is she going straight home from here, or does she have something else planned?”

“Just dinner, then home. I'm hungry; why don't we order?”

Despite the fact that he knew his way around a kitchen and liked to try new recipes, Dan wasn't a food snob. He'd eat whatever was put in front of him. “How do you decide? Everything sounds good to me.”

“But you're a good cook.”

“So? I like to eat. What are you having?”

“A burger.”

“Are they good here?”

“Oh yeah.” The look on her face actually convinced him to order one too.

While they ate, he kept an eye on Honey B. and her mystery date, but it wasn't as easy as he imagined with Meg sitting across from him licking her lips after taking a big bite of her burger.

“Don't you like it?” She was looking at him expectantly.

He blinked and looked down at his half-eaten hamburger. “It's really great.”

She was frowning at him. “Then why aren't you eating?”

“I was watching your friend.”

Meg snorted—an inelegant sound coming from such pretty lips. “If you say so.”

“Why don't you just say what's on your mind, Mulcahy?”

“Ooooh.” Her eyes lit with amusement as she picked up a fry and dipped it into the mayonnaise she'd ordered on the side. “Am I hitting a nerve, Coach?”

He picked up his burger took a big bite and frowned at her. When his mouth was empty, he grumbled. “Don't call me coach.”

“Why not?”

He finished the rest of his burger before answering, “It reminds me that you look like you could be one of my students and I look—”

“Amazing.”

He shut his mouth and didn't quite know how to respond to that. He knew he was strong; he worked out on his own and with his team. But he hadn't thought much about his appearance since he'd been dumped.

“Um… thanks.”

She leaned across the table and said, “If you hadn't changed your mind about us, I'd be tempted to coerce you into the backseat of your car to pick up where we left off.”

Dan's jaw dropped open and for a moment he just stared at Meg then reached across the table to grab her hand and was about to stand when Honey B. and her date approached their table.

Smoothing over what could be a delicate situation, Dan held out his hand. “My name's Dan Eagan. I coach high school soccer in Apple Grove.”

The other man grinned. “Small world. My name's Patrick Garahan—Pat. Before I moved out here, I used to play for the FDNY Soccer Club.” He looked at Dan and shook his head. “Isn't it funny that my date Honey's from Apple Grove?” He looked over his shoulder at her and then back at Dan and Meg. “From what Honey's told me, Apple Grove is a small town,” he said slowly. “You two must know each other.”

Meg looked at Honey B., who said, “Pat was curious when he noticed you and Meg watching us more than once, so I told him the truth.”

Dan and Meg shared a look and Dan nodded. “I'm glad she told you.”

“Can you join us for dessert?” Meg asked. “It'll save Dan from getting a crick in his neck.”

When the table had been cleared, coffee poured, and dessert served, Pat glanced from them to Honey and back again. “I'm getting a pretty clear picture. You're Honey's friends and wanted to make sure I wasn't some psycho she'd met on the Internet. That about sum it up?”

Dan grinned. “Pretty much. Thanks for not getting mad.”

Pat laughed. “I would have done the same for my sister or one of their friends.”

“So, Pat,” Meg asked, “how long have you been a firefighter?”

The other man relaxed and started to slouch down in his seat. Dan realized it was because the guy was exhausted, not because he didn't have any manners. Dan'd been wrong about that.

“Since 9/11, I started out in New York City, but moved here a few months ago.”

“I'm from New Jersey,” Dan told him. “I lost a good friend that day.”

Pat looked down at his hands. “I lost two of my best friends,” he told them before looking up to meet Dan's gaze. “I'd been trying to decide what to do with my bachelor's degree in English… that day was my wake-up call. And up until the fire last month…”

Dan watched the play of emotions cross the man's face and knew something raw and painful had prompted Pat to move from New York City to Ohio. “Well, I realized a couple of months ago that I needed a change, so here I am.”

Honey B. reached out and took hold of his hand. “Thanks for not being mad that my friends were here to watch my back.”

Pat looked down at their joined hands and grinned. “It's good to have friends who will do anything for you… it's almost as good as having your brothers here.”

Dan picked up on the odd note in his voice. “I've got a sister who is married and living in Connecticut. How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

Pat grinned. “Three brothers and three sisters.”

“Are your brothers firefighters too?” Meg wanted to know.

Dan watched as a look that could only be described as pride had the man nodding and shifting higher in his seat. “They're at different firehouses; after the attack, it was mandatory.”

Dan started thinking and knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to ask about why Pat had made the move to Ohio. He'd made a life-changing move recently and it was still a touchy subject. An idea popped into his head. “Do the Newark firefighters have a soccer team too?”

“There are a couple of us that get together a couple of times a month and mess around on the field. Why?”

“Maybe I could round up a couple of guys and we could challenge your team to a game.”

Pat grinned. “Let me see who's off shift. Between our three firehouses, I know I can get a team together.”

While the men were talking to one another, Meg finished her pie, sat back, and smiled. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

Her friend nodded and leaned close. “I had a great time. Pat's a nice guy.”

Meg agreed and added, “Does he remind you of anyone you know back home in Apple Grove?”

Honey B. hissed at her. “Shhh—not now, Meg.”

Meg rolled her eyes at her friend. It was obvious to her that Honey B. was having a good time with Pat, but it was also obvious that Pat had a similar personality and profession to Mitch. Firefighter versus sheriff. “I bet Mitch would like to meet Pat.”

“I need to use the ladies' room, Meg. Don't you?”

Meg started to refuse, but the look in her friend's eyes warned her not to. “We'll be right back.”

Dan and Pat nodded but kept talking—they'd moved from soccer to football, and were now talking baseball.

“Men,” Meg grumbled, following Honey B. to the ladies room.

“Why are you bringing up Mitch when I'm on a date with Pat?”

“If you can't figure it out, then I'm not telling you.”

“Wait,” her friend told her. “I've really gotta pee.”

Meg washed her hands and tried to think of a way to remind Honey B. that, although Pat seemed like a great guy, he had baggage—just like Mitch. She didn't know if she should warn Mitch or root for Pat. Her heart went out to Mitch, even though he should have paid attention to Honey B. about ten years ago.

Men… so slow sometimes.

Honey B. came out and washed her hands. “We should be getting back.”

Meg agreed. “Will you be seeing Pat again?”

Honey B. laughed. “I will if Dan has anything to say about getting together in town for a soccer game.”

Meg was laughing as they walked back over to the table.

Dan looked up at her and smiled a warm and friendly smile before turning to the other couple.

The other man smiled and shook hands. “I'll give you a call in a couple of days. I know I can get a group of guys together for a pickup game.”

Dan smiled. “Great. Maybe some of the guys from the varsity soccer team can come and get a different perspective on the game.”

They paid the cashier and walked outside. Meg and Dan gave Honey and Pat a chance to say their good-byes.

“I like him,” Dan said as he opened the door for Meg.

She slid onto the seat and clipped her seat belt. When Dan got in the other side, she waited until he started the car and fastened his belt. “I do too, but I'm not sure Honey B. should jump into a relationship with him… it sounds like he's got some baggage.”

“Don't we all,” Dan murmured, watching for Honey to get into her car so he could follow her home. “Maybe he just needs a break and someone to talk to.”

“Is that all you need, Dan?”

He waited a moment before he answered. “I thought I knew what I wanted, but it turned out that I was wrong.” He put the car in gear and drove out of the lot.

When they'd driven a couple of miles, Meg said, “So was I.”

Picking up speed once they were on the highway, Dan finally spoke. “I didn't want to get involved with anyone yet—it wasn't in my plan.”

Meg snorted out a laugh. “The last thing I planned on was getting involved with the varsity soccer coach.”

“So, if I was a plumber, you'd be interested?”

She laughed a low sultry sound. “Now you're talking, Eagan.”

The rain hitting the roof woke him up, but it was thoughts of Meg that kept him awake. The one night they'd spent in one another's arms played over and over in his mind until he'd all but given up on the thought of sleeping. He'd never been so wrapped up and turned inside out by a woman before. This was new—scary. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

He punched his pillow a couple of times and turned over; maybe he could fall back to sleep. Fifteen minutes later, he realized the futility of that plan. The soft sound of the rain had him wishing Meg were with him; he knew he'd fall back to sleep if he could just hold her in his arms. Well, maybe after they tired themselves out—once that thought was in his head, he couldn't shake it loose. If he was going to be honest with himself, he didn't want to.

“Damn.” He gave up and sent her a text:
Meg, are you awake?

He put his phone on the bedside table. “She's probably sleeping.”

His phone beeped, signaling that he'd received a message. Grabbing for the phone, he held his breath, unsure of her response but hopeful.

He chuckled as he read her response.
No.

Unsure of how she'd react if he actually called her, he sent her another text.
Listening to the rain, wishing I could hold you.

She didn't answer right away. She could have fallen back to sleep. Angry with himself for starting something, backing away from it, and then realizing too late that he shouldn't have, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

A cold splat of water hit him in the middle of his chest. “What the hell?” He rubbed at the spot and stared at his hand. Another drop hit him before his brain kicked in and he realized his roof was leaking.

He got up and turned on the light. Sure enough, there was a dark spot on the ceiling right over his bed. “Perfect.” He'd never had to deal with a leaky roof before and had no idea what to do. A few drops hit the mattress, leaving a wet spot. “Better move the bed.”

A few minutes later, he'd shoved the bed up against the far wall and watched the water drip onto the hardwood floor. “It's gonna ruin the wood.” He got a towel from the bathroom and folded it up under the leak and stood there watching it. As the rain intensified outside, the leak dripped faster.

“Damn. I need a pot.”

He grumbled all the way down to the kitchen, grabbed his red enamel stockpot, and carried it upstairs. In position to catch the water, he winced when he heard the first few drops hitting the bottom of the empty pan. A few minutes later, the sound changed, as the drops hit water.

Raking a hand through his hair, he sat down on the edge of his bed and wondered why he thought buying a hundred-year-old home would be a good idea. His parents had warned him it would take a lot of maintenance to keep things running, but he ignored their advice, thinking he could handle it all.

“Guess I was wrong about that.” Wondering if he'd been wrong about Meg too, he sent her another message, even though she hadn't answered the last one.
Changed my mind
, he typed,
rain sucks, roof's leaking.

He tossed a towel on the wet spot on his bed and climbed back in. Keeping his phone at hand, he laid back down and closed his eyes, ignoring the steady sound of rainwater dripping into the pot.

His phone beeped; he looked at the screen and laughed out loud.
Get a damn bucket; I'll check it out in the morning.

No soft words from his Meg…
his
… He let that thought roll around in his brain for a while and decided he liked the way it sounded. His self-deprecating laugh sounded more like a snort.

Sometime around two o'clock the rain stopped and so did the leak. With a sigh of relief, Dan drifted off to sleep.

***

Meg wondered what Dan wanted from her… well, other than to hold her and listen to the rain. She smiled. The thought was really romantic, and she couldn't remember the last time someone had tried to romance her.

He was kind, sexy as hell, and willing to help someone he didn't really know just because Meg had asked him… that and he was car crazy. She would be ten times a fool if she didn't practice a little patience and stick around to find out if she could fan the flames of what they'd started until it flared bright and burned steadily.

Rolling out of bed, she knew it would be a busy day. It had rained heavily during the night, so she might have a few other calls this morning to do minor roof repairs. She really didn't like getting up on anyone's roof, but as long as she was careful and didn't move too quickly, she could usually get the job done without getting dizzy. For more than a patch job, her dad usually farmed the work out to a roofer he knew over in Newark.

“Best to just get a move on and go see what I'm getting into.” Before she left her apartment, she checked in with Grace. “Hey, I got a call this morning. Dan's roof leaked last night.”

“Why didn't he call the shop?”

“He's got my number,” Meg told her. “I guess he figured he'd go right to the source.”

“Alright,” Grace said, “but that's going to completely mess up the schedule for the day.”

“I'll just work overtime,” Meg answered. “I've done it before. Don't worry, Gracie. I'll get it all done.”

Dan was waiting for her when she arrived. His eyes looked bleary from lack of sleep. But was it from the leak or from lying awake thinking about her? With the number of calls she had to make today, now wasn't the time to ask. Shoving those thoughts aside, she focused on the work at hand and asked, “Where's the leak?”

He stepped back and to let her in. “Upstairs,” he said. “Over my bed.”

She chuckled softly as she walked through the kitchen to the second floor.

He was right behind her and grabbed a hold of her elbow, stopping her. “You think that's funny?”

She looked over her shoulder at him and was sorry that she'd put that hesitant uncertainty in his gray eyes. “No, sorry. I was just thinking that that explains your last message.”

He let go of her elbow and slid his hand to the small of her back. The heat of his wide-palmed hand seeped in through her chambray work shirt. Pinpricks of awareness sprinted from that spot straight to her lady parts—saying, “Pay attention! The man with the magic hands is back!”

When she stumbled over her own feet, he steadied her against his rock-hard chest. Helpless to resist, she sighed and curled against him. His arms wrapped around her and his chin rested on the top of her head.

“I'm so damn glad to see you, Meg.”

She cleared her throat. “I didn't sleep much last night,” she confessed. “It was the little things I kept remembering that had me tossing and turning.”

He buried his face in her hair and asked, “Like what?”

She loved the way his voice rumbled around in his broad chest, the vibrations as tempting as his hot breath on the side of her neck. “Your talented mouth and lethal lips. The calluses on your hands and the way you kept sweeping them along my sides and up to cup my breasts.”

Good Lord, she was getting turned on remembering every touch, every taste. His arms tightened around her and he pressed his lips against the underside of her jaw. “Dan, wait!” she urged.

He groaned and molded his mouth to hers and her protests died as his tongue traced the line of her lips and dipped inside to tangle with hers.

His hands were hot, urgent.

Hers were desperate to touch, to take. “I can't,” she moaned.

He lifted his lips but didn't back away. Poised to kiss her again, his lips a breath away from hers, he asked, “Why? Because I was stupid and afraid?”

She gave in to need and cupped the side of his face in her hand. “No. It's not that. Grace has me working overtime what with the rain last night.”

The desire lingering in his dark gray eyes flared to life. “Then you still want me?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, grabbing him by the face and kissing him like it was their last moment on Earth. When she came up for air, she asked, “Does that answer your question?”

He laughed and hugged her tight. “Yes, ma'am. I'd better let you go now, or neither one of us will be going anywhere today.”

“Why can't I resist you?” She really wanted to know. He was good-looking, but it was what was inside of Dan that pulled at her.

“Must be my charm,” he said with a straight face.

Their laughter diffused the sexual tension surrounding them. “I'd better take a look at that leak.” He nodded, and she added, “And you keep your hands to yourself.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma'am.”

When she looked up at his ceiling, she knew that it wasn't going to be as simple as looking for a hole right above the spot where it had dripped all night.

“So do you think it's a cracked shingle or something?”

“Could be,” she said, considering. “I'll know for sure once I get up on your roof.”

He bristled. “You're not climbing up there,” he said. “I've got to go to work; you'll be all alone here.”

She turned around and looked up into his frowning face. Was he worried about her doing her job? “I've done a number of jobs where the homeowner wasn't there.”

“I sure as heck didn't picture you up on my roof today while I'm at school.”

“But that's where the leak is,” she said slowly.

“You're afraid of heights, Meg.”

Oh, she thought, that was at the heart of his worry. “It's an occupational hazard in the home repair business. About one-third of our calls involve patching leaky roofs. You get used to it.”

“What about what the sheriff said the other day at Edie and Bill's wedding?”

She shrugged. “I used to be terrified of heights.”

“Meg,” he said, reaching for her hand.

She let him envelope her hand in his much larger one. A sigh escaped before she could think to hold it in. His hand was strong, his grip firm… a workingman's hand. “What?”

“Don't go up on my roof when I'm not here, OK?”

“I've already adjusted my schedule and made you my first stop today.” She squeezed his hand and slipped hers free. “I can't make Gracie go through the list and rearrange everything again. People are counting on me.”

“Then let me call in and tell them I'm going to be late for my first period class.”

“Dan, don't be stubborn. I go up on roofs all of the time; it's my job.” She waited for him to argue.

He stared down at her, fire banked in his stormy eyes. She didn't want to know exactly what he was thinking; it would distract her when she was up on his roof. “Be careful,” he warned.

“Always am.” She touched his arm briefly before easing past him and heading downstairs. She had climbed onto the peak and was inspecting the ridge for damage when she heard him backing out of the driveway.

Relieved that he'd left her to do her job, she got down to business tracking the possible locations where the damaged shingle could be. Close inspection proved her first theory that it was near the peak of the roof. “Roofing tar will take care of it on the outside.”

Half an hour later she'd finished up and was about to climb down when she heard a car door close. She looked down and sighed as her father got out of his truck. How long had he been here? Dan must have been really worried and called the shop. Pop knew she didn't like heights, but hadn't shadowed her on roofing jobs in a long time.

She made her way down the extension ladder, bucket of tar in one hand and mason's trowel in the other.

“Megan,” her father called out. “Take your time.”

“I always do, Pop.” When she got to the ground, she set the tar down, grabbed a hold of the rope, and unhooked the ladder mechanism. When it was closed, she carted it over to her grandfather's pickup and slid it onto the rack. “How long have you been here?”

He grinned. “Awhile. Nice young man, Dan Eagan.” He was watching her like a hawk, and she his prey. “He's going to be stopping by Saturday afternoon to help me work on the Model A, after he helps Miss Trudi at the garden center.” He waited a moment before asking, “Did you know that he has four of his team meeting him there to help out?”

She smiled. “No, he didn't mention it, but I'm not surprised.”

“He's got a good heart, Meggie.”

She agreed. “It's hard not to notice. He's been open and friendly to everyone I've introduced him to.”

“Is that all you've noticed?”

She laughed. “Nice try, Pop, but I'm pleading the fifth.” She fetched the tar and stowed it along with her toolbox. “I've got to leave Dan a note telling him to let the ceiling dry out for a few days, then I'll take another look at it and see what's to be done. I know I don't have to tell you that you have to be careful with plaster.”

He followed her into the house. “He seemed concerned about you being up on his roof.” His gaze met hers and he asked, “Is there more here than meets the eye?”

She shook her head. “I've got a long list of calls today. Can we talk later?” She'd scribbled the note and was halfway out the door before her father followed.

“Meg, it's a simple question.”

“Pop—” she began and then paused, deciding to give him as honest an answer as she could. “He has my head in a spin and my heart beating double-time.”

“Really?” he said. “Then I'll have to make sure I keep an eagle eye on him tomorrow.” He opened the driver's side door for her and said, “I told him I wanted to start working on the engine—”

“Checking to see what can be salvaged beneath the hood?”

Her father nodded, watching her intently.

She reached for the door and closed it. Rolling down the window, she smiled up at her father. “Pop, you're so easy to read, but give it up because you know that no matter how I feel about him, if you didn't like him and the way he was salivating over the Model A, you wouldn't have invited him to come over and play under the hood.”