Suddenly Home. Loree Lough
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burst into the room just then, carrying a pink metal toolbox. “Don’t laugh,” she said, plunking it down on the hardwood floor. “I bought it at a yard sale couple years back. Only cost me fifty cents, but it was all dirty and rusty, and the only spray paint on sale at Clark’s Hardware that day was—” she extended both hands, like one of the models who present the prizes on a game show “—pink!”
It just so happened she was wearing a pink blouse. And pink fingernail polish. The excitement of Barney’s adventure had colored her cheeks a pretty shade of pink, and those luscious lips of hers, well, they were pink, too. Alex had a notion to tell her pink was her color. Instead, he opened the toolbox and poked around inside until he found an adjustable crescent wrench.
As he was busy tightening the screen’s wing nuts, he heard her clear her throat. She was near enough to touch. Again. Right there beside his left elbow. If he turned, just slightly, he could slide an arm around her waist, ease her to him and—
“So, did you enjoy the brunch?” she asked.
Alex had to blink to get his brain back on track. Oh. Right. The brunch. Well, yes, he supposed he’d enjoyed it well enough. At least, he’d enjoyed every moment he’d spent with her…. “Food was good,” he said, hoping to sound noncommittal. But that was all he intended to admit.
She laughed. “The ladies of Resurrection outdo themselves every time there’s an event.” Then, “Did you know there’s going to be another next Wednesday?”
She hesitated, and he knew she intended to invite him to it.
Knew, just as well, that he had every reason to say no.
For one thing, what did they have in common? And even if he could find something the two of them could share, he had way too many “issues” left over from the accident. Wouldn’t be fair to haul her through that mess.
Crouching, Alex put the wrench back into the toolbox and fastened its lid. On his feet again, he decided to tell her that he’d sworn off church. Sworn off everything—and everyone—connected to it. She needed to hear that, because he had a feeling she put the D in devout. Besides, he liked his women tall and lithe and blond and blue-eyed, right? Wouldn’t be fair to mislead her, not in any way. And he had to find a way to get the words out before she asked him to be her guest.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to come,” she asked, as if on cue, “as my guest?”
Sunlight glinted from her hair. Hair he wanted to touch, to find out if it felt as soft, as silky as it looked. And there, in the bright light, it was impossible not to notice the pale freckles that dotted her nose, that sprinkled across her ivory cheeks. He wanted to touch those, too. Each and every one of them…with gentle kisses.
Watch it, he warned himself, this one isn’t like the others, not in any way. And that meant trouble. Reminding himself he had neither the time nor the inclination for romance, Alex straightened, squared his shoulders, lifted his chin a notch. Tell her no, was the thought pinging in his head. Say, Sorry, but I have stuff to do that night.
Hands deep in his pockets, he glanced at slightly parted, kissable pink lips, looked into her eyes. Into her big, long-lashed, brownish-greenish-golden eyes and said, “Only if they’re serving potato salad.”
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