Finding Love in Payton (11 page)

"Everything," she wailed. "Nothing's gone right.
Everything's gone wrong, and I wanted it to be so nice
for you," she said, leading him to the back of the
kitchen. "I can't seem to do anything easily and Bryan
must notice that I'm not myself, because he keeps
fussing and crying." She stomped her foot when Bry grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled. "No, Bry,"
she murmured, then turned to Jeremy. "I guess you
want to leave, huh?"

Jeremy looked at her, stunned. She might have
thought everything was wrong, but he'd heard enough
to know that things were just fine. If she wanted things
to be nice for him, then she cared. And that was
enough.

And she looked adorable in those snug capris, even
if they were stained with what looked to be Spaghetti
Os. "I don't want to leave," he said slowly, then held
out his arms to Bryan since it looked as if Dinah was
about to tilt to one side from the boy's weight.

"Come here, sport."

With a solemn face, Bryan reached for him, and
held on tight, quieting at once.

Bonnie trotted over and positioned her head right
under his hand. He followed the beagle's wishes, gave
her a few pats, then watched the dog pad over to her
canvas covered bed and lie down.

Pleased to be helping so much, he glanced at Dinah,
ready to hear her approval.

Dinah looked at him like he was a traitor. "How did
you do that?" she asked.

"I like dogs," he said, motioning to Bonnie. "And
as for Bryan, well ... I've got a niece. He must know
I'm anxious to see another guy." He cooed to Bryan
again, then turned to Dinah. "How can I help?"

She chuckled. "You already have." Briefly she told him the menu, and described the variety of troubles
she'd had even preparing the simple meal. "Would
you mind being in charge of the steaks? You could
grill them outside, and Bryan would probably play just
fine in his sandbox if you were out there."

"Show me the way," he said. After a few minutes,
the steaks were on, Bryan was occupied putting sand
into a bucket, and Dinah walked out to sit with him,
two glasses of tea in her hands.

"This is more how I was hoping things would be."

He tilted his head, watching her, ready to listen to
everything she said. "How?"

"I was hoping we could relax, enjoy the evening."

He already was enjoying himself, but because she
seemed so worried, he tried to set her at ease once
again. "I am enjoying myself, Dinah. Believe me, I
grew up with four siblings. Dinner time can be the
trickiest time of the day."

She laughed. "I guess so. It was in our house, too.
My mom is a terrible cook, and my dad was always
trying to find ways not to eat her concoctions."

Jeremy burst out laughing. "You almost sound
proud of him!"

"I was! My brother Ben and I would stare at the
goulash or casserole that she'd dished on our plates
and try to think of new ways to give it to the dog."

"Did it work?"

"Sometimes. Skip, our beagle back then, was real
found of liver meatballs."

"Eww!"

Dinah made a face. "Eww is right. I'm not much of
a cook, but all the things I can make are easily recognizable."

"Well, I'm a great cook, so you won't have to
worry," he teased, then froze as she stared at him hard.
He needed to watch his words better or he was going
to scare her off before he had a chance to get close to
her. "I mean, if I ever cook you dinner."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"So ... any other dark secrets?" he asked next, eager to know more about her.

"Hmm," she said, "not really. I'm a reasonable
housekeeper, an excellent book store owner, and have
been known to spend too much on cute outfits for
Bryan." She sipped her tea then leaned forward. "What
about you?"

He shrugged. "I like old cars, old houses, good
steaks, and ... pretty blonds." He smiled when color
rose to her cheeks, but he didn't even consider taking
his words back. There was something about her that
told him that she had heard compliments too little in
recent times. And he wasn't going to let her pretend
that he was over merely because he needed another
friend. He had friends, and lots of them. At that moment he wanted to be around Dinah, wanted to finally
kiss her.

"I like blonds, too," she said, ducking her head
away before he could scrutinize her face.

He didn't know what to say to that. Something told
him that it wasn't the time to flirt anymore. Only two
topics seemed safe: Bryan or the steaks.

Luckily Bryan was on the same wavelength. He toddled over, one fist full of sand. With a fierce shake, it
fell to the ground and on his feet. "Ack!" he said triumphantly.

"No, Bry, that was not great," Dinah reproved.

Because the little boy was standing in front of him,
just waiting to be acknowledged, Jeremy scooped him
up in his arms. "Hey, big guy. What's up?"

That seemed to be all the opening he needed. Bryan
squirmed out of his arms, then held out a chubby hand,
obviously wanting Bryan to follow him to the sandbox. All the while he chattered in baby-talk, about one
out of every third word intelligible.

"He wants you to see his trucks," Dinah translated.
"Be careful, though. Bryan's a true believer of examining things while standing in the sandbox."

"I can do that," Jeremy said, already slipping off his
loafers and socks and rolling up the hem of his jeans
two times. "Let's go, Bryan."

Bryan smiled widely, then hopped back in, motioning for Jeremy to sit right next to him.

Dinah watched Jeremy and Bryan with something
approaching awe. It was so rare for her son to actively
choose to be around men, and really rare for it to happen so quickly.

And, she imagined, it also wasn't a very common occurrence for men to discard their shoes and socks
with such happy abandon and plop down in the middle
of a sandbox. But that's what Jeremy was doing, and
he looked to be having a great time loading up dump
trucks.

Becoming aware that she was staring, Dinah cleared
her throat. "I'm just going to put the rest of the meal
on the table."

"Okay," Jeremy said, barely looking up.

Feeling strangely left out, Dinah flipped the steaks,
then prepared the rest of the food. Fifteen minutes later
everyone was washing their hands.

And a half hour after that, Dinah couldn't believe
that dinner was over; Bryan looked about ready to fall
asleep at the table, and she had a whole mess to still
clean up. All that effort for thirty minutes of dining!

"I liked the sundaes," Jeremy said, pushing his bowl
away. "It's been awhile since I had one."

"Thanks. I thought they were good, too," she commented, though she couldn't help but think that the ice
cream all over Bryan wasn't going to come off easily.

"I'll work on the dishes, Di," Jeremy said, startling
her out of her daze. "You go clean Bryan up and put
him to bed."

"You don't mind?"

"Not in the slightest." He chuckled and gestured
toward her countertops. "Besides, I think there's going
to be plenty left for you, too."

She had to agree. She'd taken just about every dish
out of her cupboards to make, bake, and serve everything. Somewhat grumpily she realized that her
mother, and probably Jeremy, could have made do
with about a third of the equipment.

With a sigh, she picked up Bryan, quickly washed
his face with a washcloth, put him in his pajamas, and
tucked him in bed. He was asleep before she left the
room.

"Back already?"

"I am. I think you wore him out!"

"Glad I could help," he said, handing her a bowl to
dry. "We'll get this done in no time."

Silently they washed and dried the mountain of
dishes, stacking some in the dishwasher, hand washing
and drying others. Bonnie wandered around the
kitchen, poking her nose under the countertops, looking for scraps.

As they neared the end, a sense of calmness floated
through her. "This was nice," she said. "I'm so glad
you came over."

He leaned back against the counter. "What do you
usually do now, after dinner, when Bryan is asleep?"

She was surprised by the question. "Not too much.
Watch TV. Relax. Read a little bit. Laundry."

He tilted his head. "Where do you sit?"

"In there."

He took her hand. "Come on, then."

Within minutes, Dinah found herself sitting on the
couch next to Jeremy, shoes off, legs tucked under her.
And right then and there ... she was back in time.

No bills or babies to worry about. No stack of mail
or baby clothes to fold.

Nope. Right then, right there, all she could seem to
think about was whether her hair looked okay, if the
guy beside her thought she was cute ... if he was ever
going to kiss her good night.

As if in response, Jeremy dropped an arm across
her back, his warm hand cupping her shoulder in a
way that brought back memories of drive-ins and football games.

He chuckled. "I'm sorry. For some reason I keep
wanting to look over my shoulder to see if your dad
is going to catch us on the couch."

"I've been thinking that this feels kind of funny,
too."

His hand raised. "Do you want me to move?"

"No," she said, then cursed her tongue. Was it really
necessary to sound that desperate?

But if Jeremy thought she sounded funny, he gave
no indication. In fact, he scooted a little closer. Played
with the curls at the end of her hair. "Have I thanked
you for inviting me over yet?"

"Have I thanked you for not leaving when you saw
what a state I was in?"

He smiled. "I'm kind of glad I found you like that. Made me feel like you weren't quite as perfect as I
thought you were."

It was all she could do not to stare at him in surprise. "You thought I was perfect?"

"Uh huh." His fingers brushed her bare skin, giving
her goose bumps and a faint tremor in her stomach.
"Maybe if I asked again, you might consider going
out with me?"

It was hard to think clearly when his body was so
close to her own; when he smelled so good, like expensive cologne from the department store, when his
fingers brushed the delicate skin around her collar
bone, sending shockwaves straight to her heart.

She knew she was going to die if he didn't kiss her
within two seconds.

She glanced at his eyes. Silvery blue, vividly awaiting her, with the patience of a saint ... or at least a
really good person. "I would," she said softly.

With a sigh, she felt his shoulders relax. And then,
he was curving toward her, leaning in, cupping her
jaw in his hands.

And kissing her so tenderly, like she was perfect for
him.

Every sensation in her body shifted to high gear.
His lips were soft yet firm; his hands, so gentle as his
thumbs caressed her cheeks, then wrapped around her
back.

He smelled like cologne, but like Jeremy, too. Full of soap and man ... and all with the slight hint of
Bryan. And he tasted even better.

She never, ever wanted such a kiss to end. He felt
too good. And she felt too fresh. Too aware of him.
Too new.

And then finally he pulled away, but only inches,
only enough to meet her gaze head on. And smiled.

\\'That are you doing, son?"

Jeremy looked up from the small mountain of folders and batches of paperwork that he'd been trying to
get a handle on. "Trying to figure out where I've hidden another ten thousand dollars," he said with a sigh.

"Any luck?"

"Nope." He dragged a hand through his hair and
wondered how much he dared to share with his dad.
He wanted advice, not for things to be fixed. Sometimes his dad didn't seem to see the difference. Since
the desire for his dad's experience and wisdom outweighed anything else, he decided to give it a try. "I
found a house. Did you hear about that?"

"A little," his dad said, sitting down across from him at their kitchen table. "But I was hoping to hear
about it from you."

"It's great," Jeremy said, completely aware that he
sounded suspiciously like he had back in tenth grade
when he'd found an electric guitar on sale and was
sure he needed it in order to be a star. "It's run-down,
and sprawling, and made of stone. Big oak trees practically fill up the back yard. Beautiful woodwork in
the den."

"Sounds good."

Jeremy nodded. "It is ..." His voice drifted off, uncertain of how to tell his father that he couldn't afford
it.

"But ...?"

"But, it's a little more than I would like. And I'm
worried if I wait too long, it's going to be gone, but
if I give in and get it, I'm not going to have a thing
left in my savings account."

His dad glanced at a few of the papers, too. "I can
see your problem. Guess you've already talked to Payton about working more hours?" he asked, leaning
back.

"Yeah. He said he could maybe fit in five hours
more a week on the schedule. That's not going to
make a whole lot of difference."