Page 73 of A Twist of Faith
He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing her again. “That’s fine. Why don’t you wear it on home and give it back to me tomorrow.” Because the idea of her changing clothes in his house kept a fire burning fairly bright in his chest.
“Got it.” Her grin returned and she nearly ran down the hall to the laundry room. In a second she returned, white shirt draped over her arm and shoes in one hand. “I’d better go.”
“Out of sheer mercy if nothing else.”
Her eyes twinkled in response and she made a beeline for the door. He followed behind, careful to keep his distance, but his traitor-eyes noticed each step. “Thank you for taking such good care of the young’uns.”
She turned in the doorway, face lit by moonlight. “Thanks for letting me help. They’re great kids, Reese.”
“I’m a blessed man.”
“Yes, you certainly are.” She sighed as big as the sky, a frown pouting out her lips. “And an incredibly honorable one. I really can’t understand why I’d be a temptation for you at all.”
There she went being stupid again. “Clearly you don’t see what I see, then.”
She studied his face, his eyes, her gaze roving over each feature with a sweet appreciation. A soft glow spilled over him at her gentle expression, no question about her affection. Sincere and … grateful?
“No, I guess not.” She shrugged. “But I think I’m starting to understand why my vision’s so foggy. I don’t think anyone in my family had a clear view of life.” Her gaze flew back to his. “Or love.”
His breath came to a lurching halt. Love? Now that’s not a word he’d heard from a woman he wasn’t related to in a real long time.
She pulled her blouse into her chest and squeezed tight. “Or truth.”
The events of the day crashed in on his wayward thinking and knocked some of the hormones into submission. The bonfire in his chest cooled to a fireside chat. He braided his fingers through hers and tugged her closer, but not too close. “You are a whole lot more than what you think, Dee. Smart, a hard worker, caring, teachable.”
She looked disappointed at his words, so he added a few more compliments. “You’re kind, grateful, and have a deep compassion to do the right thing.”
Now she looked plum sad. He didn’t just need accent lessons, he needed training on how to talk to a woman. But what man didn’t. “Sorry, you’ve had a tough day and here I am saying something wrong.”
She faced him and took a step closer. “It’s not you.” Without warning, she touched his cheek, her cool fingers soft, like the look in her eyes. “I have a lot on my mind to sort out, but it’s not you.” She rose on tiptoe and rested her lips on his. His entire body tensed with the effort to maintain control, but her vulnerable expression gave him the needed nudge. “Thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
Her fingers slipped from his reach and she stepped onto the porch before turning his way. “For just being who you are, Reese Mitchell.”
She smiled up into the cool night and walked, barefoot and red toes, to her car. It was like getting a glimpse of the little country girl hiding behind all those fancy clothes and wrong presumptions. He could almost envision long pigtails and a snaggle-tooth smile, until he focused on the flannel shirt and the heated kisses.
His pulse stampeded off again. Her car door closed and the engine roared to life.
He locked his door, turned to the living room still floating with the smell of apples and baby powder, and stomped directly to the bathroom with one purpose in mind.
Cold shower.
Chapter 15
Oh, I didn’t mean it either, when I was a flower girl. It was only my way. But you see I did it; and that’s what makes the difference after all. (Pygmalion, Act 5)
Dee’s week tumbled forward at breakneck speeds with a wild mix of mid-term exams, clinic, and a much-too-brief session with Reese at the university. Of course, they’d engaged in some texts and phone calls, even caught lunch together two days, but nothing of any length. Her mind buzzed with Reese’s reference to her as Sleeping Beauty, his rock star evening kiss, his disheveled appearance as she walked out his door with shoes in hand … and the beauty of his self-control! Her one boyfriend from graduate school never used such restraint, but she’d excused his behavior as part of a man’s genetic makeup. Born predator. She’d misinterpreted so many rules and relationships and become devalued and proud in the process. Reese proved respect held deeper than passion, though passion provided a lovely after-dinner feature. Oh, man, she could get used to dessert like that on a regular basis.
Her thoughts ground to a halt. She glanced at him across the cab of his truck, Lou and Brandon crammed between them. Could she? The battle raged between her heart and head, without an easy answer in sight. She’d plowed into Ransom over two months ago with an escape plan burning a path to Charlottesville and now she longed to dress in flannel and appear on Reese’s couch again. Clearly, she’d lost her mind … and wanted to stay there if it meant Reese, the kids, and feeling of being cherished by a good man.
Her finger moved a slow line across her lips, replaying a lovely memory. Simply ridiculous to melt over a man’s kisses … but oh so sweet. She snuck another glance at Reese and studied his lips through his closely trimmed beard. The heat in her face spiked. He caught her look and his smile turned roguish.
Charlottesville? What was Charlottesville when a handsome man, cute kids, and a Saturday brunch with the Mitchells waited? It seemed so right. How had she spent her weekends before the Mitchells swept into her life? Her thoughts took a downward turn.
Alone.
And she didn’t want to go back.
