Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(42)
Susannah was horrified. “You’re not going, are you?”
Chrissie laughed as if she assumed Susannah was joking. “Of course I’m going. This is the most exciting invitation I’ve had in months. I’m well over eighteen, so it’s not like I have to ask your permission.”
Yes, indeed, the vultures were out in full force.
Carolyn checked her watch and when she saw it was noon, she leaped out of her chair.
“Carolyn?” her assistant asked as she hurried past.
“I thought I’d go home for lunch today,” she said, not stopping to answer questions. Her heart pounded as she reached her truck and got inside. When she’d started the engine and backed out of her parking slot, she happened to catch her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her face was flushed and she was nibbling on her lower lip, which was a habit from childhood. She released her lip as if hearing her mother chastise her, switching between French and English. The words still rang in Carolyn’s ears these many years later.
It was all that talk last evening about the paths not taken, she reasoned. Carolyn hadn’t contributed much to the discussion. When she’d gone to bed, she’d lain awake most of the night, thinking. There’d been a number of different paths in her life—the ones she’d taken and others left unexplored. One stretched before her now.
Dave Langevin.
She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. Her mother would be furieuse if she knew that her daughter was attracted to a lawn-maintenance man. Since her twenties, Carolyn had lived a solitary life. Thoughts of a relationship, any relationship, were best ignored. She was a woman in a world usually populated by men, and she didn’t have the time or inclination for romance. It’d been easy to ignore the fact that she was a woman until she met Dave. When she looked at him, for some unaccountable reason, she felt alive again. In the beginning she’d tried to ignore the attraction, ignore the way he made her feel. It was uncomfortable at best and downright embarrassing at worst. She’d told no one. Really, how could she?
As she turned into her driveway, she realized her timing was perfect. Just as she’d hoped, Dave Langevin was working in her yard doing her regular maintenance. He’d been there on an unscheduled visit the day before, adding beauty bark to her flower beds. Right now he was mowing the grass. With the sun beating down, he’d removed his shirt, and his sun-bronzed torso glistened with perspiration. So intent was she on watching him that she nearly drove off the road. When it came to running the lumber mill, Carolyn was capable, competent, in charge. When it came to male-female relationships outside of business, she felt inept, clumsy and completely tongue-tied.
She parked her vehicle inside the garage and with trembling hands went into the kitchen, where she prepared a ham sandwich and added some coleslaw and pickle slices, although she didn’t have the appetite for even a mouthful. After carrying it onto the patio, she sat down and made a show of eating.
Dave had his shirt on now and was pushing the mower to the side of the house, close to the patio.
“Hello again,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to hurry home in the middle of the day. “You’re getting to be a regular fixture around here.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing your lunch.”
“No. Would you care to join me?” While she might sound casual, nothing could be further from the truth.
“Sorry,” Dave said, flashing her a grin. His teeth were white and even. “They don’t pay me to dine with the clientele.”
“How about a glass of iced tea?” she asked next.
He hesitated and then nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”
In her eagerness to get him a glass, she nearly toppled her own chair. Rushing into the kitchen, Carolyn drew a deep breath in a futile effort to slow down her hammering pulse. Inviting a man to join her for lunch was so out of character that it felt as if she’d done something illegal.
She’d thought about little else all day. As she dressed that morning, she’d been putting together a plan of action. She wore her hair down instead of in her customary braid and opted for a white blouse with a lace collar rather than the cotton plaid that was her general uniform. Her jeans and boots were the same, but nothing else seemed to be—including her mind. Gloria had noticed her change of outfit right away and might have made some remark if not for the look Carolyn sent her.
“Do you take it sweetened or unsweetened?” she called through the screen door.
“Unsweetened.”
She managed to pour the tea, then took it outside and handed it to him. Dave thanked her with a nod. He hadn’t buttoned his shirt, and she had a hard time not staring at his muscular chest. A light mat of sun-bleached hair caught her attention. She felt like a schoolgirl, mesmerized by the sight, and resisted the urge to press her palm against his heart to see if his pulse beat as erratically as her own.
Dave drank the tea without stopping, then pulled off his hat and wiped his forearm across his brow.
“That tasted great. Thank you.”
Carolyn didn’t know what to say next. Her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
He shook his head. “I came up from California.”
“I lived there for a while. Which part?” she asked, trying to make conversation, anything that would let Dave know how much she wanted to be his friend. No—more than his friend.