Reclaimed (27 page)

Enough. Her jaw clamped hard, and she pushed away from the bed. After stomping to the kitchen, she reached for the coffee pot. If survival was all she could expect out of life, she wasn’t going to let it hurt. She filled the pot and set it to brew and then threw open the cabinet door. Her blue mug, the one she usually handed to Paul, teetered on the edge of the shelf and fell, hitting her nose before she caught it. Warm pain shot from the spot of impact and throbbed into her eyes.

“Dadgum it!” She covered the injury with one hand and gripped the offending object with the other. With the form Jason had taught her when they’d still been teenagers, she threw the mug against the far wall. Shattered, porcelain littered the floor.

Ignoring the mess, she marched to the bathroom for a cool cloth, though her nose didn’t really hurt anymore. Anger made a pretty good analgesic.

TWENTY-FIVE

Paul pushed pasta around his plate wondering why he’d heated it at all. The clock said seven, so he’d figured it was time to eat, but being hungry had nothing to do with it.

Soft rain plinked against the tin roof of his covered back porch. The rest of his house lay quiet, normal for a Monday evening. He usually flipped on ESPN for Monday night football. Denver was playing. Manning was putting on a show, no doubt, but his television sat black and quiet against the wall above his fireplace.

Paul gave up on food and abandoned the kitchen. Bypassing the living room, he pushed through the back door. The air smelled cold and clean, a hint of snow settling behind the drizzle of rain. His breath puffed white, drifting lazily on the calm air. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the porch rail.

The previous day replayed. Suzanna had acted… tired. He’d asked about her mom’s visit, and she’d shrugged.

“She left yesterday.”

That was it. He guessed it was a relief, but maybe there was disappointment too. Church started before he could ask more about it, and after the service, things had gone south rather quickly.

The moment she pushed him away played over and over in his mind like a scratched disk. Rejection had an unforgettable sting. She was trying to protect him, but it still shot an ache in his chest and stirred up memories he’d rather stayed settled.

He ran a hand against his hair as if he could clear away the recollection. It didn’t work. He involuntarily pictured his grandmother’s ring nestled safely in a small black box tucked in his top dresser drawer, exactly where he’d replaced it seven years before.

I can’t marry you, Paul. You’re a good man, but I just can’t.

Female language. Translation: I don’t want you.

He shut his eyes and groaned. He’d laid that one down. Washed his hands of it and walked away. Why’d it spring up on him now?

Because Suzanna stirred all sorts of things deep inside. Some he liked. Others? He’d prefer to live without them. Bottom line: she was driving him nuts.

Risk rejection or march toward insanity? Maybe Tom was right. It was time to show his cards. If only he could read Suzanna. One minute she’d smile at him like he could be her forever after, and his heart would trip and turn into mush. The next, she’d scowl at him, pushing him away and draining hope right out of him.

Dre would say it was better to know than to guess. Sounded wise, except Tom had been head over heels in love with her since the day she had come back from Baylor looking like a woman rather than an awkward teen. What did she know about rejection? Knowing you’re not wanted is not better. Than anything.

Except maybe insanity. Paul strode back into the house, holding his shirt to his nose to take a whiff. He’d showered when he came in for the day, but a clean shirt couldn’t hurt. And an extra dash of deodorant.

Set on a mission, he changed and left the house before his determination could dissolve. One short mile and a quick sentence or two, and he’d find out.

He might regret impulse.

His pickup came to life, rain glittering in the headlights. Bad timing. The road was bound to be soft, and it was already dark. Ms. May’s would close in fewer than two hours. He should pick another day to exercise courage.

He shifted into reverse and backed out of the drive.

The drizzle continued as he pulled up to Suzanna’s. The roads weren’t bad yet. He could say he just wanted to check on her—peek in the basement, pretending to check for signs of water leaks. Because it’d been raining all of an hour.

So pathetic. This could be why he was still on Rock Creek’s very short bachelor list. Suck it up and stay the course. What’s the worst that could happen?

She could look at him with “no” plainly written in her eyes as she tried to find a kind way to let him down. Their friendship, as they knew it, would be over, and the highlight of his days—morning coffee at her house—would become too awkward to continue.

She could reject him, and that really would hurt. He swallowed, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

God, I’m flat-out in love with her. I sure could use a shot of strength here.

The light over her side door flicked on, sending a beacon to his pickup. Too late to turn back. Paul turned the key, and the pickup died. He slipped his hat over his head and stepped into the rain.

Suzanna met him at the entry, a smile on her lips and questions in her eyes.

“Surprise.” She held the door open. “You weren’t out working in this, were you?”

Paul stepped over the threshold but stopped two feet inside. “No.”

She pushed the door closed and faced him. A small red welt crossed the bridge of her nose. He reached to trace it with his fingertips. “What’s this?”

She ducked away, covering it with her hand. “Nothing. I caught a mug with my nose is all.”

“Wasn’t mine, I hope.”

She looked back at him. “Yes, it was.”

Why wasn’t she smiling? Paul glanced at the floor and shuffled his feet.

“Do you want to come in?” Suzanna stepped toward her kitchen.

“No.” The word came out too abrupt. “I mean, well… actually, I wondered if you wanted to go to Ms. May’s. She makes a fierce pie, and I thought…”

Thought what? What in the great big universe had he been thinking?

Suzanna stared at him, her sky-blue eyes growing larger with each breath, making his heart thud as though he were working in the round pen with a high-stepping filly.

Her lips parted, and the thought lines on her forehead crinkled. “Like a date?”

“No… yes. Maybe?” His face burned unmercifully. “Only if you’re okay with it. Otherwise… well, I owe you for a month’s supply of coffee anyway.”

She didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Didn’t answer. She just stood, her gaze fixed on him as if he’d just landed from Mars.

This is why he’d given up on dating. Nothing made him feel dumber than standing in front of a woman with his heart hanging out in the open while she tried to figure out what the hay bales she was supposed to do with it.

“Wow.” She took a half step back. “That’s awkward.”

Great. Paul backed away, aiming for escape before the smoldering flames of this disaster set off the fire alarm.

Suzanna’s solemn face broke, a giggle surfacing with her grin. “Paul.” She snatched his arm. “I’m kidding. I’d love to go.”

Good grief. His heart took a dip and then restarted. “That was cruel, Pickle.” He recovered enough to laugh.

“Paybacks for almost throwing me into the horse tank.” She slipped her feet into a pair of flat, girly shoes sitting by the door.

Paul reached for her coat, which was hanging on a peg on the far wall. His brain whirled, and he was unable to come back with something witty. He held the coat by the shoulders, waiting for her to insert her arms.

Suzanna moved to do so, but she paused when their gazes collided. Questions. Concern. Hesitation. They mingled in her eyes, and doubt began to tumble in his stomach again.

Maybe they’d still recover if he let her off the hook. He could just show up in the morning, expecting coffee and easy conversation, and they could pretend this never happened.

She tipped her head, a tiny smile nudging the corners of her mouth. “So, it’s a date?”

“You tell me.”
Please say it is
.

She smiled, her head dipping a slight nod.

Paul’s lungs expanded as if he’d just remembered to breathe. Suzanna slipped her coat on and slid a hand to his elbow. He felt a full grin break the tension in his face, and he escorted her through the rain.

“Did you want to drive?” See, he could still be ornery. She hadn’t completely melted his brain.

“Um, no.”

He opened the passenger door, and she settled in. Taking the wheel, Paul started out of her drive, congratulating himself that he could still operate the vehicle. Proof he wasn’t a blithering idiot after all.

“Do you always wait until it’s raining to ask a girl out?” Suzanna couldn’t resist a playful jab. It helped to drown the spinning arguments in her head.

What was she doing? She’d made up her mind just the day before. She and Paul needed some distance. So, the best way to accomplish that was by going on an official date? He’d been too cute though. What girl would reject such an adorable offer, and from Paul Rustin at that?

“Yep.” Paul’s grin looked boyish. “It comes off more pathetic that way. Almost always guarantees a yes.”

“Really?” Laughter tickled her chest. “How often have you tried this method of manipulation?”

“Counting tonight?” He slipped a glance her way before he guided his truck around the curve.

She nodded.

His grin spread full. “Once.”

“Nice.” She let her laugh roll free right along with his.

Maybe it’d be okay. After Sunday, maybe the whole rumor thing had cleared away.

“How did the meeting go yesterday?”

“At church?”

Suzanna nodded, trusting he could see from his periphery.

He shrugged. “Fine.”

Figures. Men were always good at relaying details. Get out the towrope. Time to drag out some info.

“Fine? So, that means you’re the newest member of the board?”

“No.” His jaw worked.

“No? Why not?” Dumb question. She knew the obvious reason. Why’d he say it was fine, then?

“Just wasn’t voted in, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” She stared at him. “Two months ago they wouldn’t have bothered counting the results. Don’t tell me it’s not a big deal.”

Paul shifted in his seat, sighing before he answered. “Suz, it’s not like a high school royalty gig. It wasn’t a popularity vote. I trust each member took it seriously, and right now, I’m not the right guy for the job.”

“That’s not true, and we both know it.”

Paul’s lips pushed together as he rubbed his jaw. “Look, I’m not going to get upset about it. God still sits on His throne, and for now, He’s said no about this. I can accept that. It was an honor to be nominated, to have someone ask me to consider it. And the way it worked out, I was able to clear the air about some things… about you and me. I think that was a good thing. As for the rest… well, it’s done. I’m not going to lose sleep over it.”

Suzanna’s pulse sped up, her blood heating with his every passing sentence. She met his eyes, and though his words were sincere, her anger continued to build.

“How can you say that?” She twisted in the seat to face him. “How can you just dismiss the injustice, ignore their cruelty?”

He slowed the vehicle as they neared an intersection. He would turn onto the highway, and they’d be in town in fewer than five minutes. That put them approximately fifteen minutes into their first date, and she was already upset. Not good.

Paul shifted into park after at the stop sign. He reached across the cab and brushed her jaw with his thumb. “I’m sorry this whole thing has been so hard on you.” His hand dropped, and he leaned against the console between them. “I haven’t dismissed the injustice, and I know they’ve been cruel, but it’s not for me to demand restitution.”