Chapter Twelve
“This is a much bigger turnout than my projections determined. Even accounting for the weather report being off by a greater margin than statistics would have indicated, and an overperformance of word-of-mouth engagement, my numbers are still way off.” Frowning, Avery looked from her clipboard to the fields beyond the veranda, which were still teeming with people picking lavender, despite the event’s having formally ended two hours ago.
Hannah smiled, knowing how much it annoyed Avery to be reminded she was human and therefore not perfect. Hannah poured them both more tea from the pretty floral-patterned china service that had been positioned neatly between them on the café table. “Well, as long as we’re outperforming, not underperforming, I think we can live with the projection error.”
Avery looked at Hannah, her eyes appearing bigger than usual behind her round, horn-rimmed glasses. “It wasn’t an error. I couldn’t possibly have predicted—”
Hannah laid her hand on Avery’s arm, then handed her a scone. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’re doing well. Really, really well. Have a scone. Celebrate.”
“I should have started with a greater baseline figure given there is no charge for the lavender picking and tea service today.”
“Scone,” Hannah repeated, and put it into Avery’s hand.
Avery munched absently as she skimmed her numbers again. “So, you and the mason, huh?” she said, still mulling, calculating, recalculating.
Hannah, who had just taken a bite of her own scone, might have choked slightly. She quickly sipped some tea, swallowed hard, then tried to pretend that Avery’s surprising comment hadn’t caught her off guard. Too late for that.
Avery looked up from her clipboard, her lips curving dryly. “What? You don’t think anyone notices the two of you all but jumping each other every time you’re within eyeball distance? The whole town is talking about you two now.” She batted her eyelashes. “Apparently you shared a ‘moment’ together at the amphitheater?” She made air quotes while still holding her partially eaten scone, then fanned herself with her free hand. “Steamed up more than a few pairs of glasses from what I heard.”
Hannah just sat there, slack-jawed. If she’d taken the time to think about it, she supposed it wasn’t all that surprising. Only she hadn’t been thinking about it, not that way. She hadn’t been thinking about the town or what everyone might or might not be talking about. She’d been too busy trying to sort out her feelings for Will and what she wanted to do with them. Not that all her pondering and decision making had done her a whit of good.
After their talk at the music venue, she’d admitted that she was drawn to Will in ways that had to do with a lot more than how he filled out his white work tees, or the fact that he was struggling to figure out how to manage his own tragic past. If anything, the latter was what had convinced her to steer clear of him, at least in any personal way. He had a lot he was trying to figure out; she’d done a lot of that work already. So the last thing she needed was to be dragged through it again and again as he dealt with his own issues. She had told him the truth, that she’d always be there to help, to talk to, but the occasional conversation was not the same as becoming involved with him, where she’d be a part of the process full time. That would be supremely foolish. If she was really interested in getting involved with someone new, exploring that part of her life again, pretty much any other man would be a better candidate than Will McCall.
Which totally explains why the moment he asked to see you socially, you all but fell on top of him in your rush to say yes.
Yeah, she was going to just have to get over trying to get over him. That plainly wasn’t working. All day long she’d found herself searching for him in the fields, or watching him talk to Jake, or wandering over to the stables to look at Chey’s stone house and check out the horses. Yeah, had anyone asked, she could have pretty much pinpointed where Will McCall was at any given moment. A flying drone couldn’t have kept better tabs on his movement than she had.
“I’m going to take that besotted look on your face as a yes, then,” Avery said, her eyes dancing when Hannah flushed at being caught mooning.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Hannah said, being honest. “He’s a really good man dealing with some tough issues that I know a little bit about. We’ve talked about them a few times. It’s nothing more than that.” Except there was that kiss. And how much you would really like to finish it.
“Right,” Avery said dryly, once again pulling Hannah from where her gaze had naturally turned to search for him. Again. “And hey, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. He’s not hard on the eyes. For a guy his age.”
“Hey now,” Hannah said jokingly.
Avery raised both hands. “I’m just saying, if you were to do an emotional to physical ratio chart, the two of you would likely get an eighty-five-percent compatibility rating. Possibly higher. I’m not entirely sure as I’m missing data.”
“Missing data?” Hannah repeated. “You’ve worked some kind of chart for us?”
Avery shrugged, unrepentant. “It’s just a hobby. I’m trying to apply some of my mathematical theories to human behavior.” She grinned. “I needed some guinea pigs and you two were just ever-so-conveniently making goo-goo eyes at each other.”
Hannah’s mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. “We do not make any kind of eyes at each other.”
Avery merely raised her eyebrows over the rims of her glasses and sent Hannah a pointed look, then popped another morsel of scone in her mouth.
“In fact,” Hannah went on, “I could hardly get the man to crack a smile, much less—” She broke off as Avery immediately flipped a few pages on her clipboard and scribbled down something.
“What—” Hannah asked. “What are you doing?”
Avery looked at Hannah and beamed sweetly. “Gathering data.”
Hannah sighed in defeat and munched on the rest of her scone.
“So,” Avery asked at length, after sipping some tea and sighing in disgust once again as she continued to review her welcome party statistics. “Is it the wife thing holding you back?”
Hannah had just taken another sip of tea and almost sprayed the table with it. Dabbing at her chin, she very deliberately set her cup and the remains of her scone down and gave Avery one of her own pointed looks. “The wife thing?”
“Will’s wife,” Avery said. She put her clipboard down and looked at Hannah, her expression serious now. “His late wife. I asked a few questions, and it’s not like it’s a secret. His wife was killed in a car accident on Christmas Eve when Jake was a toddler. Will hasn’t made the kind of progress we have in dealing with it, despite its being over a decade ago.” She folded her hands on top of her clipboard. “I was just wondering if that was why you’re ambivalent about pursuing him.” She raised her hands, palms out. “Not data collecting.”
At Hannah’s narrowed gaze, a hint of a sheepish look crossed her face. “Okay, well, I’ll at least wait until later to write it down. But I’m serious. Are you worried that his loss will, you know . . . pull you back?”
That was the thing with Avery. For all her geekiness and need to dissect and put everything into some kind of equation or projection chart, she was a true friend, and was sincerely concerned for Hannah’s well-being.
Hannah relaxed, knowing Avery would always be Avery, but she’d also always have Hannah’s back, and her heart was forever in the right place.
“Yes,” Hannah said, opting to be honest about it. Maybe talking would help her sort things out once and for all. “I didn’t know all the specific details you just mentioned, but I knew he was dealing with loss and was pretty sure it was his wife. On the surface, Will seems a pretty foolish choice, you know? And with the details you just filled in, even more so. I mean, none of us have been involved with anyone for some time. We’ve just moved out here, launched this joint venture, which isn’t fully launched yet, and . . . so many other things. I just feel like it’s not the right time, in addition to his being quite probably not the right guy.”
“Yes, well, try as I might to organize and chart human emotion, pretty much the only thing I’ve determined so far is that emotional investment outweighs intellectual rationale pretty much every single time when the heart is involved.”
“I’m not saying my heart is involved,” Hannah said, trying not to feel alarm when just saying that felt like a lie. “I’m attracted to him, because, well, you’ve seen him. He’s not hard on the eyes.” She grinned. “For an old guy.”
Avery rolled her eyes, but grinned. “I would concur.”
Hannah laughed at that. “See? And he’s got that whole quiet, alpha male thing going. But then there’s the emotional stuff he’s dealing with, which shows his vulnerable side, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t at least a little sexy, even if I don’t wish suffering on him, or anyone. He clearly loves his son and has done a great job with him. He’s hardworking, makes art out of rocks, and . . .” Hannah trailed off. She wasn’t exactly talking herself out of anything here. “And yeah, okay. I’ve got it bad,” she admitted sheepishly. “So bad that even his pining for his long-deceased wife just makes him that much more . . . I don’t know. Human, and flawed, and yet loyal. Kind of proof that when he loves, he loves fully.” She looked at Avery and lifted her shoulders. “How am I supposed to fight against that?”
Avery held her gaze, and Hannah could see her mind whirring behind those rapid-process eyes of hers. “Maybe you don’t,” she said, at length. “I mean, yes, there is definitely that emotional quicksand of his past versus yours. You’re out on the green now and he’s still in the sandpit. You don’t want to be dragged back into the sandpit.”
Hannah nodded and smiled despite the seriousness of the conversation. “Since when do you make golf metaphors?”
“Golf is a game of mathematics,” she replied, as if that explained everything, and it essentially did. “I’ve always wanted to learn to play, but I’m not the most coordinated person. Doesn’t keep me from studying it, though.” She shrugged. “What can I say—the golf channel is my white noise when I work.”
“I never knew that,” Hannah said, amused.
Avery’s cheeky smile resurfaced. “New data. Maybe you should jot that down.”
Hannah laughed, then responded to Avery’s earlier assertion. “You’re right, though. I don’t want to go back to the sandpit. I also can’t seem to shrug off this attraction, much less make it go away.” She hesitated to say the rest of it, then decided it didn’t matter at this point. “He asked me out. Earlier today. I keep trying to put distance between us until this . . . whatever it is, simply dies out. Then he shows up and . . .”
Avery looked at her. “You couldn’t say yes fast enough.”
Hannah hung her head, then raised her hand. “Guilty as charged.”
“Good,” Avery said.
Hannah lifted her gaze back to Avery. “Good? Why? It’s like I’m asking to get hurt. Or, at the very least, emotionally bruised.”
“I think you need to take the edge off so you can feel things as clearly as you’re seeing them.”
“Take the edge—” Hannah’s eyes widened. “You mean go to bed with him? I’m not even sure I want to date him, much less—”
“Pheromones and hormones can really cloud one’s judgment. I’ve got a chart for that I’m developing, too. Well, I’m starting by mapping out what would constitute the perfect kiss. I haven’t worked my way beyond that because . . . you know.”
Hannah did know. Avery had dated or tried to. She’d had her first kiss, and quite a few more after that, with different guys she’d gone out with. But nothing beyond that. At twenty-four, Avery might be a certified genius, but she was also still a certified virgin. She was adorable and funny, sharp and forthright, and beautiful in her own right. But she also possessed a brain that ran at the speed of light and never shut down, and most men simply couldn’t compete with it, much less keep up with it. Those first kisses—which Avery had deemed complete failures—had never led to anything more, because either the gentleman in question took off not too long afterward, or Avery sent them packing.
“So, I’m not telling you from personal experience, but everything I’ve read on the subject does back up my assertion.”
“He has a teenage son and is a central figure in this town,” Hannah told her. “The very last thing I’m going to do is simply jump in bed with him. Not that I would anyway.”
“Because of the late wife thing.”
Hannah gaped. “No, because of the I-just-don’t-jump-straight-into-bed-with-men thing.”
“That, too,” Avery agreed.
Maybe Hannah should have thought it through a little more before having this talk with Avery.
“It was just a suggestion,” Avery added, looking not remotely sorry for making it. “Who knows, maybe he’s lousy in the sack, and you’d get over him anyway.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you anymore,” Hannah said on a half laugh, putting her linen napkin on the table next to her plate.
“Suit yourself,” Avery said easily, ever unflappable. As Hannah pushed back her chair Avery picked up her clipboard again. “But, if you do, I’d really appreciate some direct anecdotal data for my research.”
Hannah shook her head on a helpless laugh. “You’ll be the first person I call.”
Avery just grinned and started making new notes.
Hannah walked back into the kitchen, but the crew they’d hired to help with the tea service had already cleaned up and left. The place looked spotless. They’d stopped serving a half hour before the end-time of the party, so it wasn’t surprising, but even without the food and drink, the festivities had continued. Folks had gone on arriving all afternoon, and others had lingered even after they were done picking their lavender. A few of the locals had pulled instruments out of their cars and trucks and struck up an impromptu combo, which had added the perfect finishing touch to the warm, breezy, summer day. Pippa had come down to support the winery and help chat up the wines that were being served under a tent they’d erected for a special tasting. She’d joined in with the other musicians, much to everyone’s delight, and Vivi had happily given Jake a few breaks to sing a bit as well.
Hannah had looked for Will at those times, both to see if he was watching Jake sing and to see how he was handling watching and listening to his son sing. Will had said Jake sounded a lot like his mom, which had to be why it was so hard on him to listen.
The first time Jake had sat in with the musicians, Will had been out at the horse stables helping Chey with some youngsters who’d wanted to pet and feed the horses carrots, under Chey’s supervision of course. There were no amplifiers and the musicians had no mikes, which was what had made it all so perfect and natural, but Hannah was sure the sounds of the music and the singing had carried at least as far as the paddock.
She’d watched as Will had paused, looked up, and turned immediately to watch his son and listen. Then he’d surprised her by unerringly finding her gaze and holding it, too. As if he’d been keeping track of her every bit as much as she had him. He’d nodded, as if in thanks for her concern. She’d nodded back, smiled, and he’d returned to watching Jake, smiling, too. Hannah had been too far away to see his expression, but he’d seemed good with all of it, or at least very willing to be part of it, and Hannah had been happy—and relieved—to see that.
She’d lost track of him though when she’d taken her break on the veranda with Avery, and a quick scan now didn’t show him anywhere in sight. The number of people still picking lavender began to dwindle sharply. Vivi was out there with them now and waved to Hannah that she was fine and didn’t need help. A glance at the stables showed that Chey had put the horses inside, so the paddock was empty of animals and people, and Chey. Maybe Will had already left. Hannah didn’t see Jake, either, so it was probable they’d gone on home. She told herself it was silly to feel . . . well, not miffed. He certainly didn’t owe her anything, but she was disappointed that he hadn’t come to say good-bye, or at least to comment on the event. Or maybe set a day and time for your big date. “That, too,” she murmured, then smiled, amused at herself. For a woman who wasn’t all that sure about getting tangled up with a man, she was certainly tying herself into knots over his every little move. “Or lack of one,” she added dryly.
Other than her short break with Avery, she hadn’t been off her feet all day. It seemed Vivi had the final stragglers in hand, so Hannah decided to head over to her place. As comfortable as they were, she’d love to get out of her garden boots, shower the day off her skin, and maybe even play a bit with her paints before heading back over to the house later for a previously agreed upon meeting with the others, to go over the day and celebrate their first big event.
Hannah was looking forward to it, expecting there would be champagne, given how successful the day had been. She knew Vivi had concocted some special treat for them to celebrate their official launch. Well, maybe not the official-official launch, because this had been a party, not business, but the response certainly boded well for their big day when it happened next spring. Hannah was pretty sure their ideas about having other holiday-related events were a definite go now.
She sighed happily. It had all seemed such a distant dream, with so much to do before they actually turned Lavender Blue into anything resembling a money-making venture. Today’s event had taken that distant dream from the horizon right up to front and center, giving her a renewed rush of anxiety over whether they could possibly get everything ready in time for their real launch. It was a good kind of anxiety, though, the happy, anticipatory kind. They were really doing this. And for the first time, her optimism about their chances for success felt truly warranted.
Thirty minutes later, she stepped out of the gloriously long, hot, steamy shower she’d taken, dried off, then pulled on a pair of comfy floral leggings and a billowy, Indian cotton top. Comfort would be king for the remainder of the day, she decided, leaving her hair loose to dry. She wandered over to her current painting in progress, studying it, trying to work up some energy to dabble a little. She felt soothed by the shower and pleasantly tired from the long day. As much as painting relaxed her, the truth of it was, she just wanted to get off her feet for a bit.
She was contemplating opening the bottle of Llamarama wine that Pippa and Seth had given to each of them as a thank-you for their joint venture that day when her doorbell buzzed.
Surprised, she went to the windows first and peered down, but didn’t see a vehicle parked below. If it had been Vivi or Chey, they’d have just knocked and stuck their heads in. Avery would have texted first with her specific time of arrival. “So, who is at my door?” she murmured as she crossed the room. There were no peepholes in country doors, so she cracked it open, then paused in utter surprise. “Will.”
From the looks of him, he’d gone home and cleaned up, too. His hair was damp and clung more closely to his head, much wavier than it was when dry. He was freshly shaven and wore a clean, soft green, button-up shirt and black jeans that did amazing things for his flashing green eyes and equally dangerous things to her no-longer dormant libido.
Then she realized what was happening. He was here to pick her up for their date. “Oh no,” she said apologetically. “I guess I must have misunderstood. I didn’t know you meant tonight.” She glanced down at her exceedingly casual apparel, barely one step up from pajamas. “I just showered, and I was going to—but I can go—”
“No, no,” he said, stopping her from further stammering. “I’m not here to pick you up. I just dropped Jake off at Seth and Pippa’s—they’re going to do some work up there this evening. I thought since I was driving right by, I’d just—I wasn’t sure when or where I’d see you, to make plans. I would have called, or even texted, but . . .” His smile was sheepish and endearing and, oh boy, were she and her very overactive libido in a whole lot of trouble. “I don’t have your number.”
“Oh!” she said. “Right.” She realized she wouldn’t have been able to contact him, either. She laughed. “We’re definitely rusty.”
“So we are,” he replied, flashing that heart-stopping grin.
She stood there for another moment, just taking him all in, trying not to drool, when her manners finally made a return appearance. “Oh, I’m sorry. Come on in.” She stepped back and opened the door. “I’m sorry, the place is a bit of a mess,” she said as he stepped inside, and remained there, as if unsure whether he was welcome to intrude further. “I’d like to say that it’s because I haven’t fully unpacked yet—and I haven’t—but I’d be less than honest if I pretended to be a neatnick.” She spread her arms. “What you see is pretty much the real me.”
“I think I read somewhere that a cluttered space is the sign of a creative mind.”
She laughed. “I’m not sure if that is true, but I’m totally going to claim it.”
He looked around the open floor plan. “Great space,” he said. “Bigger than you’d think.”
“Thanks, I thought the same. The light is perfect for painting.”
He nodded, his gaze shifting back to her, and they stared at each other some more. “Your hair,” he said, causing her to reach up in a panic, wondering what state of post-shower fright she must look like. His embarrassment over causing her panic was at odds with the flare of heat she thought she saw in his eyes as he said, “I’ve never seen it down. You always have it braided.”
“Oh,” she said, reaching up to smooth it, then letting her hand fall by her side again, suddenly not quite as relaxed as she had been a moment ago.
“I like it,” he said. “It’s wavier than I thought it would be.”
“Yours, too,” she blurted, and they both smiled, then grinned. “Man, we really are out of practice.”
Will chuckled and nodded. “I was just thinking that Jake is probably smoother than I am.”
She laughed. “I know. I had Avery giving me dating tips earlier.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Did you think you needed some?”
Hannah realized that was the last thing she should have mentioned, considering what Avery’s advice had actually been, but it was too late now. She shook her head. “No, it was unsolicited. Apparently . . .” She trailed off, wondering if she should tell him what Avery had told her, or if it was best to let that lie, given they were already acting like awkward, untried teens on their first date.
He stepped further into the room then, but stopped at her kitchen counter, still a few yards away from where she stood. “Apparently?” he prodded, his gaze looking very, very adult at the moment.
She swallowed against a suddenly parched throat. Maybe she should offer him some wine. Maybe you should just listen to Avery and jump him. He certainly looks like he’d be receptive to that idea. She broke their gaze and turned to open one drawer, then another, looking for the wine bottle opener. Striving for a casual, breezy tone she was far from feeling at the moment, she said, “According to Avery, everyone in the Falls is laying odds on whether or not we’re going to be an item.”
“An item,” he said, and she stilled. He was right behind her. And the very idea that she was in arm’s reach of him made every inch of her body sing with delight.
She kept searching, not even looking at what she was digging through now. “Mm-hmm. She said it was pretty clear to everyone that we, uh . . .” She broke off then, redoubling her search efforts as she remembered that what had been clear to everyone according to Avery was that they wanted to jump each other. She was all but throwing things out of the drawer when he reached around her and put his hand on hers, stilling her action.
She pulled in a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his own on the side of her neck. Not only did he look like heaven, he smelled heavenly, too. She wanted nothing more than to lean back against him, have him wrap his arms around her, and pull her tightly to him.
Her body ached with need—to the point she almost wanted to weep. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way. Far longer than her divorce. Since before the accident even. She and Steve had already been having issues and intimacy had been one of them. She enjoyed it; Steve had grown indifferent. She found out later that that was because he had been flirting with a coworker and his guilt had caused some performance anxiety. Nothing more than that, he’d sworn, when Hannah had discovered the suggestive text messages. He’d confessed that he enjoyed the thrill of doing something new, that he felt the two of them were missing that spark and spontaneity since they’d started a family. Then the accident had happened, and . . . after that, moments like the one she was having now had been the last thing on her mind.
But that was then. And long in the past. So, very, very long.
“Hannah,” he said, his voice a rough whisper that skimmed along the tender skin of her neck, leaving a rippling of awareness in its wake.
She turned and found herself in his arms. Unlike before, this time neither one of them was an emotional wreck. The emotions running high now had nothing to do with their past and everything to do with the very immediate present.
She looked up into his eyes, knowing she was failing miserably at trying to disguise the want and need she was feeling. If she hadn’t been sure, the way his pupils flared to life proved it. “Will, I think we should—”
“We should take this slow,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
She nodded. “Yes,” she said, and heard the breathless note in her voice. His gaze dropped to her mouth and the muscles between her thighs clenched painfully tight, almost making her gasp with the suddenness of it.
When he looked back into her eyes, the hunger in his matched the voracious need ramping up inside her.
“We’ve both been through things,” he said, and she nodded, trying not to look at his mouth, at those lips, the ones she’d only tasted once, and far too briefly. Failing. “And alone for a long time.” His throat worked, and when he continued, his voice was even rougher. “So it makes sense that we’re feeling . . . what we’re feeling. It’s just the circumstances driving this.”
“Probably,” she managed, though she was no longer certain. It was hard to imagine that she’d ever not want him like she wanted her next breath, no matter what had happened to her leading up to this moment.
“So it’s smart for us to take things one step at a time,” he said. “Make sure of ourselves, of—”
He broke off and she finished it for him, unable not to. “Of this.”
He nodded. “This.”
Then his mouth was lowering to hers, and she was closing her eyes, her body thrumming in almost anguished anticipation of his touch, his taste.
He brushed his lips softly over hers and she moaned, long and low, utterly incapable of keeping her longing silent.
“Hannah,” he said, almost a growl now, resting his forehead on hers briefly, their breaths mingling, their bodies so close.
“Will, please,” she said, her voice breaking.
He groaned then, and whatever willpower he had, whatever control she thought she could exert, seemed to leave each of them at the exact same time.