At Home in His Heart (3 page)

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” He gave the room another sweeping glance, then focused dark, considering eyes on her. “But you need to get a life.”

What?

She huffed a laugh of disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I told you not to take it wrong.”

“And how could I take a comment like that right?”

He shrugged and moved again toward the kitchen with her hot on his heels. “Don’t you think common courtesy demands you elaborate after saying something as judgmental as that?”

He halted in the arched doorway between the two rooms and again turned, his gaze solemn. “I think you know what I’m talking about.”

“Now I’m a mind reader?”

He waved a hand, indicating the museum as a whole. “Grandma says you and Gina have practically lived at this place. I know I see your car here frequently.”

“So?”

“So, do you think Keith would have wanted you to seal yourself up in this tomb? Digging through musty old stuff that belonged to dead people?”

With a gasp, her gaze flew to the photograph of her husband on the wall, his medals in the frame beside it. Hands on her hips, she stepped to within inches of Bryce. “I happen to appreciate history—and love some of those dead people.”

He didn’t so much as flinch. Just stared down into her eyes, some elusive emotion she couldn’t pinpoint flickering through his own.

Mesmerized, her heart rate quickened. She shouldn’t have moved in so close. To where she could feel the heat emanating from him. See the rising and falling of his chest. The pulse at his throat. Smell a faint, shower-fresh masculine scent.

With an abrupt movement, he broke eye contact and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t referring to Keith. My apologies.”

Then he swung around and headed to the back door.

For a moment she almost followed him. Almost let him have a piece of her mind. But what good would that do? His poking his nose into her business had started when she’d first met Keith—and it didn’t appear to have let up. Chasing after him now would only hand him another opportunity to voice judgment on her personal life.

A place where his observations weren’t welcome.

“T
hat man infuriates me, Meg. He’s just so, so—”

“Buff?” Her high school teaching colleague laughed as she refilled their glasses with icy, homemade lemonade. Sandi had stopped by after work late Saturday afternoon to pick up Gina.

Memory rushed against her will to the imposing, well-built man. Solid as a rock. “Very funny. I’m thinking more along the lines of mulish and interfering.”

“Are you kidding me?” Meg’s eyes widened as she placed the pitcher on the kitchen table and sat down across from her. “Are we talking about the same man? The Bryce Harding I know is a big lovable, huggable bear of a guy.”

“How would you feel about your Mr. Buff if he’d tried to stop your husband from marrying
you?
He had it in his head I was going to ruin Keith’s life. Even emailed him from overseas on our wedding day. Can you believe it? Keith showed it to me at the reception. Thought it was funny.”

“What did it say?”

“Last chance, bud. Bus departs at two.”

Meg let out a gleeful yelp, then clapped her hand momentarily to her mouth. “Sorry. But Sandi, that’s no big deal. That’s how guys talk to each other. They can’t express their feelings well. Half the time they can’t even identify for themselves what
they’re feeling. That was just Bryce’s way of saying ‘hey, dude, gonna miss ya.’”

“I’m afraid there’s more to it than that.”

“Hey, don’t you remember?” Meg’s eyes continued to dance. “At my wedding reception, right before we cut the cake, one of Joe’s old navy buddies snuck up and clamped a fake ball and chain around my hubby’s ankle. That’s just guys.”

“I remember. But this is different. Way different.”

“You’re blowing a joke out of proportion, Sandi. Seriously. Bryce is one of the good guys.”

“You wouldn’t think that if you knew about him what I know about him.”

“Maybe the man you knew has changed. Joe said Bryce quit going to church with his grandma when he was in high school. But he goes now. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

She couldn’t tell Meg how Keith had worried about Bryce. About his wild ways. His hard drinking and hard partying. His superficial relationships with women. Keith had done his best to influence Bryce, to convince him he wasn’t really living unless he was living for God. But Bryce the Bullheaded carried on in the direction he was determined to go—and good-naturedly badgered Keith to join him on his journey.

“As the old saying goes, Meg, sitting in a garage doesn’t make you a car.”

“It’s a start.”

“Maybe.” Guilt nibbled around the edges of her conscience. She’d been kind of snippy with him at the Warehouse and again at the museum last night. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t how Keith—or God—would want her treating him. “Because of his interference, Keith delayed proposing. We could have been married who knows how much earlier if Bryce hadn’t poked his nose in where it didn’t belong. That’s time Keith and I’ll never get back.”

Time that maybe she could have grown up more. Done things differently.

“But if you’d have married earlier,” Meg said, her gaze steady, “even if you got pregnant right away like you did with Gina, your baby wouldn’t have
been
Gina.”

“I know.” Sandi toyed with the ribbon on a basket of spa-type goodies that Meg had given her for her birthday. “And I wouldn’t trade her for the world.”

She glanced out the open French doors to the patio, where Meg had several flats of petunias awaiting transplant. Could smell the sweet fragrance. Hear the laughter of their precious children coming from somewhere under the long-shadowed pines.

“But can’t you see why I’m not thrilled about Bryce’s homecoming?” She poked at an ice cube with the tip of her finger. “I hear he’s doing odd jobs. Not what I’d call earning-a-living work. Moved in with his grandma—like she needs
him
to deal with. And now he’s announced the historical museum rent will go up when the lease renews.”

Meg cringed. “You’re on a tight budget, aren’t you?”

“Even with measly city assistance we’re barely hanging on, what with the drop in seasonal visitors. And of course Bryce raises the rent right when I’ve almost saved enough money to donate a display case. Right when I’m prepared to approach the board about expanding our miniscule armed services exhibit to a room of its own. But unless summer revenues rebound or we can drum up more local support, that won’t happen anytime soon—thanks to Sergeant Harding.”

“Maybe he didn’t have a choice. Mae could need the money.”

“More likely
he
does.” Wine, women and song didn’t come cheap.

Meg sipped at her lemonade, struggling to suppress a smile.

“What?”

“Oh, I just seem to recall that less than a year ago I, too, met a certain single someone over a bottle of aspirin at Dix’s Woodland Warehouse.” She waved a hand around the kitchen of their newlywed home. “And look where I am today.” Sandi wagged a warning finger. “Don’t even—” “Mommy! Mommy!” two giggling, childish voices yelled in unison. The screen door off the laundry room slammed behind them, then her almost-first-grade daughter and classmate pal Davy Diaz charged into the kitchen. Davy threw himself into his mother’s open arms just as Gina did likewise with her own mom. Hugs all around.

“Oh, my goodness.” Meg brushed back her stepson’s black hair to reveal a smudged forehead that matched his grimy cheeks. “How’d you two get so dirty?”

“We’re building Gilligan’s Island,” Davy managed to get out, still attempting to catch his breath. “On that big pile of dirt Daddy dumped back there. I’m Gilligan and Gina’s Skipper.”

“Can you believe it, Meg?
Gilligan’s Island
fans. Third generation. Thank goodness for DVDs.” Sandi allowed Gina to climb onto her lap. Then, slipping her arms around her daughter’s waist, she smiled down at the pigtailed tomboy who, except for the blond hair and freckles, looked so much like her daddy. “Let’s get you home and cleaned up.” Gina’s shoulders slumped. “I like being dirty.” “I know you do. But tomorrow’s a church day.” Gina pointed at her playmate. “You goin’, Davy?” He nodded his head in exaggerated agreement. “Yup.” Sandi gathered up their things, then Meg and Davy escorted them to their car.

“Thanks for agreeing to take care of Gina a few afternoons a week this summer, Meg. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate knowing she’ll have a safe and happy place to go. The afterschool
babysitter this year has been cranky and impatient. Not good with kids at all.”

“You know I’m more than happy to have her here. She and Davy get along so well. Seldom fight.”

“Thank goodness.” She turned to the driver’s door, but Meg’s hand stayed her, eyes troubled.

“I know I don’t know everything there is to know about him like you do, Sandi, but I think you’re wrong about Bryce.”

“Don’t I wish.” She gave her friend a halfhearted smile.

But she wouldn’t hold her breath.

“Hey, big fella.”

Bryce felt a nudge and looked up from the Warehouse shelves where, crouched and arms full, he’d been gathering items for museum-repair jobs.

“Hey, Kara.” He rose to his feet, taking in the tall, pony-tailed woman beside him, her red-blond hair shimmering down her back. “How are things in your world?”

“Good. Grand opening of the equine center’s almost here. Thanks for giving Trey a hand.” She motioned to the merchandise cradled in his arms. “How about you? Looks like you’re planning serious home repair.”

“Not quite, but close. Canyon Springs Historical Museum.”

Kara laughed. A laugh he well remembered from when she’d helped him when he’d filled in for another guy on the parsonage remodel last winter. A Canyon Springs hometown girl who’d spent time as a Chicago interior designer, she’d been a much-needed ally at making the place female friendly without going overboard on foo-foo stuff as some of the church ladies had pushed for.

“Didn’t take long for Sandi to put you to work, did it?” Kara folded her arms, eyes bright with amusement. “I’m told that ‘to do’ list of hers keeps half this town hopping.”

“So I’m not its only victim?”

“No, but from looking at what you have there, I’m guessing you got more than your fair share.”

“That’s what I thought.” He shook his head, not quite understanding how he let her push the projects off on him. He should have stood his ground. Backed her down when she started in with that “it seems only right” stuff. Not let her manipulate him the way she’d done poor old Keith.

She’d made it no secret back then that she wanted her husband out of the service—and out of Canyon Springs. Grandma said she still lived in that house trailer Keith bought at the end of his third year in the service, back when he dreamed of spending hard-earned leave time in the mountains fishing from dawn until dusk. Bryce always figured Keith’s bride would vacate right after his buddy was settled six feet under.

So what was she still doing here?

Kara glanced toward the Warehouse entrance, her smile widening. “Looks like someone’s checking up on you, Sergeant.”

He followed her gaze to the door, where Sandi had just entered, looking mighty pretty in a pair of below-the-knee shorts and blue knit top. Proceeding to the back of the store, she didn’t look his way. Hadn’t seen him. He could sneak out. Come back later. He couldn’t let her think she had only to snap her fingers and he’d come running. He should have put the supply trip off a few days. Weeks. Made her wait.

“Would you mind holding this stuff for me up front, Kara?”

“Be happy to.”

He walked with her to the checkout counter, where she had him place his items off to the side. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Almost to the door he halted. He’d likely see Sandi at church tomorrow, wouldn’t he? Did he want her dogging him about the repairs in front of other people? Maybe he should let her know he was on top of things. Didn’t need a drill sergeant to
keep tabs on him. Remind her he was his own boss, set his own time lines.

He headed toward the back of the store with determined steps. Rounding the corner in front of a towering paper towel display, he almost collided with Sandi. In one arm she cradled two cereal boxes, a bag of bagels and a loaf of bread. Her other hand clutched a gallon milk jug.

Startled, she stepped back, directing a frown at him.

“Sorry, Sandi. Let me help you with that.”

With some reluctance—or so it seemed to him—she relinquished the armload. She was probably still mad that he’d told her she needed to get a life. It was the truth, but maybe he shouldn’t have been so brusque. Then again, if
she
could be bossy, why couldn’t
he
be blunt?

“Thanks.” She gripped the milk jug tightly, an uncertain gaze flitting to his.

He gave the grocery items a once-over. “Looks like breakfast.”

She ran a hand through her silky hair. “It dawned on me as Gina and I were heading home that I didn’t have a single breakfast item in the house.”

He glanced around but didn’t see the kid.

“She’s outside talking to a friend,” Sandi said, correctly interpreting the question in his eyes. She snagged a jar of peanut butter off a nearby shelf. “So are you still looking for a patch kit?”

“Actually—” Should he grab a bottle of orange juice and a carton of eggs to camouflage his intent? Naw. “I’m picking up stuff for museum repairs. Hitting the hardware store next.”

Although filled with disbelief, her eyes brightened. “Wow. Thank you. I didn’t expect you’d get to it quite this fast.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no. Not at all. Marking things off my checklist is never a problem.”

“I’m booked for the rest of the weekend assisting Trey at the equine center, so the repairs won’t happen overnight.”

“I understand. Totally.”

“Didn’t want your checklist waiting with bated breath—although I did take down the wasp’s nest first thing this morning.”

“You did?” Pleasure lit her face as she did that cute little head-tilt thing. Her smile sparkled with genuine appreciation.

Oh, man, she was looking up at him as if he was the king of the world. No wonder poor old Keith hadn’t stood a chance. When she wasn’t busy bossing you around, she was pumping up your ego until your shirt buttons popped off.

He grinned down at her, openly basking in the moment—just as he secretly had last night when she’d come mighty close to flirting with him a time or two. Told him he was a handy man to have around. But why was he lapping up her praise like some kind of parched desert critter? It wasn’t as if he’d never gotten attention from an attractive woman before.

Been plenty of those.

What made this any different?

He sobered, not sure he wanted an answer to that question. “Now you need to let me know if those wasps come back. They often try to rebuild a few times.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Just let me know.”

“All right.”

“Promise?”

She nodded again.

They stood looking at each other, just like last night when she’d marched up to him and demanded an explanation for his insensitive comment about musty rooms and dead people’s belongings.

Only this time she wasn’t mad at him.

But she would be if she knew what he was thinking. Old
Bryce for sure. He cleared his throat and shifted the groceries in his arms. “Let me take this stuff up front for you.”

“Thanks. I need to get Gina home and fed.”

He followed her, resolutely keeping his gaze focused anywhere but on Sandi. Only a couple of days and he was already starting to think stupidly. Act stupidly. Probably had a goofy look on his face, too.

Just like the one Keith had.

But she was a woman no sane man would take more than a passing glance at if he had a mind of his own. Didn’t want to be ordered around like some wet-behind-the-ears army recruit for the rest of his life.

It looked as if he’d better do his museum repairs during closing hours—when Sandi was off the premises.