The telltale creak of the storm door opening might well have been the sweetest sound Tanner had ever heard. It was the sound of victory, after all.
Wiping the moisture from his chin with the back of his hand, he straightened and turned toward the door, resisting the urge to grin. There Miss Madeline Harper stood, her lips pursed and her arms crossed over her chest. Her ponytail was no longer neat, with wispy blond hairs haphazardly framing her face. A few smudges decorated her forehead, like she’d been swiping at her hair with dirty fingers, though her hands looked perfectly clean from here.
He liked her this way. Made her look less standoffish, even with the half scowl still wrinkling her brow.
Anyone with a lick of sense would have packed up and left after she’d shut the door, both literally and figuratively. But Tanner had two reasons to stay: Grandpa Jack had taught him that a man finished what he started, and there was a sort of perverse satisfaction that came from staying put when she expected him to turn tail and flee.
When she didn’t speak right away, he pulled his shirt out of his back pocket and put it on, giving her time to say whatever was stuck on the end of her tongue.
After a moment, she cleared her throat and pressed her lips into an unconvincing smile. “You really didn’t have to do all this work today.”
He did smile then. “Is that a thank-you? I don’t quite speak Yankee, so it’s hard to tell.”
He couldn’t tell if she was biting back a grimace or a grin. Blowing out a breath, she said, “Thank you. Though I never asked for your help, it was very nice of you to offer it.”
He leaned forward and rested his arms on the black wrought iron railing of the steps. “’Round here, people don’t have to ask for help. If we see a need, we fill it.”
“And what if they don’t want it?” Challenge gleamed behind those pretty gold-flecked brown eyes of hers. He’d have never guessed she was this stubborn after their first night together.
“Not wanting it and not asking for it are two different things. The way I see it, if you didn’t want me here, you wouldn’t have led the way.” He shrugged, looking up at her. “Or do you wish I’d have left you to it?”
She dropped her arms to her hips. “I could have done it. I would have done it.”
“No one said you couldn’t. And that wasn’t the question.” He pushed back from the railing and walked around to stand on the small concrete landing. “Would you rather I didn’t come today?”
He lifted an eyebrow, daring her to say no. Daring her to lie and say she wished he’d stayed away. Because it would be a lie; he could see it in her eyes.
He watched her throat work as she swallowed and shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t. I appreciate your hard work.” The words sounded slightly wooden, but he knew she was the kind of girl who didn’t back down easy, so he considered it a win.
Smiling, he grabbed his hat from the end of the railing and put it on for the sole purpose of tipping it. “Glad to be of service.”
“I’m curious, though,” she said, walking down a step. “If you don’t want to be gossiped about, why risk coming here?”
Grandpa Jack’s voice echoed in the back of his mind. Pride goes before a fall. He shouldn’t have come here today, especially after what she had said about her coworkers, but his pride had gotten in the way. Ironically, pride kept him from saying as much to Madeline. Instead, he shrugged and pointed to the only neighbors visible from her property. “Old Mr. Winters is visiting his sister this month, and Mrs. White is as blind as a deaf bat. I’d say we’re safe for now.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, I can offer you dinner. By way of thanks, of course.”
It was a tentative invitation, spoken hesitantly, but it was a definite in. He had her now. Letting his lips curl up just a bit, he shook his head. “I couldn’t trouble you like that. I know you never asked me here in the first place.”
Another step down. “No, really. You earned it, as hard as you worked.”
A soft breeze ruffled the hair at her temples, and she brushed it back with impatient fingers. He knew she’d worked the afternoon away, same as him. He’d caught glimpses of her in the kitchen windows, moving this way and that.
“You worked hard, too. No need to work more on my account.”
She grinned then, the first genuine smile he’d seen since the night they’d met. He felt it all the way to the pit of his belly. “Trust me, there’s no work involved. Frozen pizza and soda, dinner of champions.”
His smile was genuine as well. “Sounds good to me. Are you sure you want me to stay?”
Pulling her top lip between her teeth for a moment, she gave him a look that said that she knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted her to admit that she wanted him to stay. Yes, he was teasing her into it, but that was what made it fun.
He could tell she was reluctantly amused, even as she rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Wrinkling her nose, she set her hands to her hips and said, “I want you to stay. It’s the least I can do.”
Success! Dipping his head magnanimously in acceptance of her invitation, he grinned. “Well, if you insist.”
As Madeline led him into the small, sparkling clean kitchen, she kept shaking her head, amazed that she’d extended the invitation. She’d meant it, though, when she’d said it was the least she could do. He’d done her a huge favor, and she wasn’t about to let her lingering embarrassment get in the way of fairness or good manners.
Still, her stomach was doing that weird flipping thing, which was not a good sign. She tried to will the feeling away. This was just to thank him for his hard work, nothing more and nothing less. Turning to face him, she gestured toward the newly scoured stainless steel sink. “Feel free to wash your hands, if you like.”
He nodded and reached for the soap. As he lathered up, she flipped on the decades-old stove and retrieved one of the frozen pizzas she’d bought last night at a natural foods grocery store in San Antonio. She’d driven over an hour out of her way just to be sure she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew. Too bad she hadn’t done the same for her hardware store trip. If she had, she wouldn’t be standing in the kitchen with Tanner, trying not to notice how much space he commanded in the small room.
As she set the box on the counter, she asked, “What do you want to drink? I have water, milk, and diet Coke.”
He shook off his hands, grabbed a paper towel, and turned to face her. “Good to know you weren’t just being cruel and unusual about the beer earlier,” he said with a wink as he dried his hands. “Ice water’s fine, thanks.”
“I’ve got tap water, hose water, or warm bottled water that I forgot to get out of my trunk. It never occurred to me that I’d have to add ice trays to my shopping list when I was picking up essentials yesterday.” She’d never even seen a fridge without an icemaker before. Then again, she’d never seen a kitchen that was 99 percent wood or wood veneer, either.
“Such a sheltered life,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. That trademark smile tilted his lips as he tipped his chin toward the sink. “Tap water’s fine. When you’ve lived a life like mine, you learn to take what you can get.”
He turned to toss the towel in the garbage and caught sight of the pizza box. “Hold up. I thought you said you had frozen pizza. What the heck is that?” He picked it up, making a face as if it were a box of liverwurst.
“Goat cheese and spinach flatbread. It’s delicious,” she said, grabbing the box back from him. “And didn’t you just say that you take what you can get?”
“A man has his limits. Let me see that. I want to know if it’s made with twigs and granola, too.”
He leaned forward to grab it from her, and she quickly swung it behind her back, laughing. “It’s good, I promise. You need to try new things.”
In two steps he trapped her against the cabinet, his hands on either side of her. Her heart raced at his nearness, and she stilled. Mirth lit his eyes, but so did something else. Something she didn’t want to name, but that her body seemed to recognize.
He leaned closer, bringing his face only inches from hers. The scent of sunshine, salty sweat, and him filled her nostrils. “I love new things. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to eat grass-flavored cardboard.” His voice had gone slightly husky, as though roughened with fine-grit sandpaper, even as it was light with teasing.
Swallowing, she ducked out from under his arm and stepped far enough away that she could breathe again. “Well, you’re out of luck then, because that’s all I have in the house.” Butterflies whirled in her belly, and she took a long, slow breath to try to get herself back under control.
He turned and leaned back against the counter, his eyes sparking once again with challenge. As he watched her for a moment, the corners of his mouth still tilted up, she stifled the urge to blush under the weight of his gaze. At last he nodded, as though coming to a decision. “Get your purse.”
“What?” She blinked back at him, surprised by the command.
“Get your purse,” he said again, this time more persuasively. “I’m going to show you what real food tastes like.”