13

Adam made a slow pass in front of Angie’s house. No lights. No car. No signs of life. He was safe. He parked in the driveway and slipped out of the truck. He slid the tree out of the bed and carried it up to the porch, resting it against the wall while he fumbled for his keys. Even though he now owned it, the house was hers. At least for a while. He would have never let himself in without her permission.

He eased open the door and stuck his head around the doorjamb. All was quiet. The clean sweetness of the perfume she wore on Thanksgiving filled the air. A vase full of roses sat on the coffee table, a black velvet ring box next to it. There was no doubt about what had gone on here Saturday.

She’d centered a tree stand in front of the living room window. He lugged the tree through the door and dropped the trunk into the stand. Squatting down, he began tightening the screws to secure the trunk in place.

He stood and stepped back. Tighter on the right. Looser on the left. As he squatted again, his back began to burn. When he got home, he’d call and see if he could get his massage appointment moved up to tomorrow. He pushed off the floor to check the status of the tree. One more adjustment ought to do it.

“Just about perfect.”

He startled and jerked around. Despite his reluctance, his gaze went straight to her left hand. Nothing. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too.” She set her mug on the coffee table, picked up the ring box, and slipped it into her pocket. “I live here.”

“Yeah, you do. Sorry.” He eased down onto his knees. “I figured you’d be at the school.”

“Today’s a teacher workday, so my boss told me to work from home and finish my educational reading.”

So, Mom had set this up. “How about some directional assistance?”

She circled the tree. “Needs to move a little more to the left.”

He made the adjustment.

“Perfect.”

He sat there for a second. There was no manly way to do this. He could crawl over to the couch for some leverage.

She moved beside him, flexed her knees, and stuck her arm out at a right angle. She gripped her arm with her other hand. “Pull up.”

“Angie…”

“You won’t hurt me. Pull up.”

He grasped her arm. It gave him just enough leverage to stand. “Thanks.”

She straightened. “See? No harm done. Now sit down on the sofa.” She pointed. “On the sofa. I’ll be right back.” She headed into the kitchen.

He eased onto the couch. These last few minutes had proven almost every reason she shouldn’t get involved with him.

She came back into the living room holding out a large turquoise ice pack. “Lay down on this.” She placed it against his back.

He eased down against the gel. The cold soothed his throbbing spine. He breathed slowly. “So what are you doing with an ice pack?”

“You’re not the only person in the world with back pain. After I’ve spent a whole day on my feet teaching, I can’t wait to get home and ice my lower back. The water aerobics and swimming help, too.” A soft smile warmed her face. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Just relax.”

He closed his eyes.

“I’ll set a timer and come check on you when it goes off.”

~*~

Angie dropped onto her bed. For some reason, the tension had hung like a curtain between them. So different from a couple of days ago when they worked at Clinton’s Closet. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed her slip the ring into her pocket. She’d left it on the coffee table because she had no idea what to do with it. Despite what Will said, she wouldn’t keep it. She’d give him time to cool off before she returned it.

This whole mess was all her fault. She should have been more honest with Will. But she did love him, just not enough to marry him. He was more like a brother. They’d dated for over three years, and during that time, he’d never pressured her to go physically further in their relationship. She’d chalked that up to a commitment to her and to God to wait ’til they got married, but she’d never even seen him struggle. And she hadn’t either. If they really loved each other enough to want to get married, shouldn’t there be some sort of sexual tension or attraction between them? After all that was a part of marriage. But there wasn’t. At least not on her part. And from what she could tell, not on his. Their engagement and marriage were most likely just the next steps in his plan. And that wasn’t fair to either one of them.

Her phone alarm sounded. She stood and made her way back into the living room. Adam’s eyes were closed, his breathing even. He must be exhausted to doze off so quickly. She knelt down on the floor beside him and watched him sleep. Although she’d met him only a few weeks ago, their relationship reached back years. If someone had asked her if a person could love someone, feel a bond with someone they’d never met, she would have thought it impossible. But now she knew that was wrong. She lifted her hand to smooth the hair away from the scar on his eyebrow but stopped. She loved him and wanted that love to grow. But more than anything, she wanted him to love her.

She jerked her hand back as his eyes fluttered open. “I was just getting ready to wake you.”

He drew himself up. “I feel so much better. Thanks.”

“So, can you hang around for lunch? I have some delicious brisket left over from Thanksgiving.” She stood.

“Better get going. Gotta be at the office by one.” He stood, stuck his hands into his pockets, and headed toward the door.

She followed him. “Well, if you’re feeling Christmassy, come back after work, and you can help me decorate the tree. Speaking of which, how much do I owe you?”

He turned back toward her. “After the ice pack, I’d say we’re even.” He nodded, opened the door, and left.