Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(45)

“Why, thank you!” Sophie leaned forward conspiratorially. “I ‘spose you’re here to see Josiah? He’s in much better spirits today.”

As if they could get worse, she thought.

“Wonderful news,” she said politely, following Miz Sophie to the kitchen, where she found Woodman sitting at the rustic kitchen table, a cup of coffee and a laptop on the table before him and his leg elevated on a chair under the table.

“Gin!” he greeted her, looking up from his computer. His hair and beard still looked unkempt, but his color was better, which meant he’d gotten a good night’s sleep and was taking his meds as directed to keep the pain at bay.

She reached out a hand and he took it, squeezing it affectionately as his eyes wandered over her outfit. They rested on her breasts before sliding back up to her face. “You sure look nice.”

“Thank you,” she said, pulling her hand away and taking a seat across from him. “Thought I’d stop by. Didn’t like how we left things last night.”

“Coffee, honey?”

“Yes, please,” she said, grinning at Miz Sophie, who placed a steaming mug before her.

“Woodman, I’m runnin’ to the market. Anythin’ you need?”

“No, thanks, Momma,” said Woodman, sparing a quick look at his mother before focusing on Ginger again. “I got everythin’ I need right here.”

Miz Sophie’s eyes narrowed for just a moment before telling them to behave and slipping out the door, leaving Ginger blushing and Woodman beaming at her discomposure.

“Shouldn’t say things like that,” she said. “I think it makes your momma jealous.”

Woodman chuckled. “But it’s the truth, Gin. It’s how I feel.”

Uncomfortable with this declaration, she stood up abruptly and crossed to the refrigerator, opening it in search of cream and grateful for the cool air on her cheeks.

“I’m home now,” he said to her back. “Stable. Not runnin’ off again.” He paused. “I’m ready for somethin’ serious, Gin. With you.”

“Woodman, we’re not . . .”

“Not what?”

“You’ve been gone for three years,” she said evenly, closing the refrigerator door and turning to face him.

“That’s right. And now I’m home, and I want to be with you, dar—”

“Do we have to have this conversation right now?” she interrupted, feeling an edge of panic slip into her voice. “I have so much on my plate. I’m in school and workin’, and Gran’s sick, and I just don’t . . . I mean, I don’t have time to date anyone, Woodman. I don’t need this kind of pressure on my life.”

His face dropped, but he held her gaze. “Is it because I’m crippled?”

“Woodman!” she scolded him, her eyes widening in shock. “After that question? It’s because you’re stupid.”

“I’m stupid,” he said tersely.

“Yes!” she said. “You’re stupid if you think your injury would matter to me like that.”

“So it doesn’t matter to you . . . like that?” he asked, his lips tilting up just slightly.

She sat back down at the table and poured a little cream into her coffee. “It doesn’t matter to me, other than I want you to be as whole as you can be. And that’s goin’ to take a little while. Woodman, you don’t need a . . . a romantic distraction right now.”

“And you don’t want one.”

She took a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it go, stirring her coffee deliberately as she looked up and met his eyes. “It’s not the right time.”

“When will it be?”

“I don’t know,” she said simply, hating the fact that Cain’s face slipped through her mind uninvited and unwanted.

Woodman stared at her for a long while before nodding. “Okay, Gin. You know what I want, but I’ll leave the ball in your court. When you’re ready, come find me. I’ll be waitin’ for you.”

His words touched her heart, and she wished—for the millionth time—that she felt for Woodman half the attraction she felt for Cain.

“And until then,” she asked, grinning at him with affection and relief, “we’ll just be friends?”

He winced like he smelled something bad, then grudgingly nodded. “Friends.”

Beaming at him as she picked up her coffee cup, she felt much better. She took a sip, then placed it back on the table, glancing at his laptop. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh, I’m just checkin’ out the Apple Valley Fire Department website here.”

“Huh. What for?”

“Might ask if I can help out there.” He paused, looking up at her. “Cain thought it would be a good idea.”

“Cain,” she said darkly, the name sour in her mouth.

“I know you don’t like him,” said Woodman, “but he’s been real good to me, Gin. He took a lot of time off to see me in Germany, then more time off to drive me home. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.”

“We’re talkin’ about Cain Wolfram?” she asked acidly. “Self-servin’, self-centered, horse’s ass Cain Wolfram, right?”