Mae Nunn - Hearts In Bloom

Drew glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened in surprise. He gave Jessica’s robe a nod and a cheerful thumbs-up.

So much for yesterday’s vow never to leave the house again without clean clothes and makeup. She realized that for the third time this guy had caught her at her worst. Of course, he was spit shined and polished already. It wasn’t fair for a man to look so well put together this early in the morning.

“I know I said I’d have you over, but I thought you’d at least give me a day to unpack,” Drew called.

Hank reached for the stereo to turn down the volume.

Drew moved into the doorway to greet his visitor. “Well, don’t just stand there.” He motioned with his hand. “Come on in.”

She stepped into his home for the first time, admiring the deep muted tones of the rugs and furnishings, the rich smell of new leather and the bookcase filled with handsome volumes. A worn Bible lay atop the sofa table.

“Did you really move in less than twenty-four hours ago?” She noted how few boxes remained unpacked.

“I believe in a place for everything and everything in its place.” Drew smiled with pride. “Hey, I just happen to have a fresh pot of Colombian decaf.” He stared pointedly at Jessica’s bare feet. “But isn’t it a little early for you to be paying a social call?”

“Isn’t it a little early for you to be playing your stereo so loud?”

“You don’t like the Boss? I suppose you’d prefer something different?”

“As a matter of fact, Springsteen is one of my all-time favorites. But at this hour of the morning, I do like my music a little more soothing.”

“For instance?” he asked, stooping to inspect his considerable collection of compact discs.

“Well, for instance…” She groped for something to catch him off guard. “Rachmaninoff appeals to me in the mornings.”

“Is that right?” he asked in a “gotcha” tone.

Selecting a CD from one of several towers, he dropped it into a multidisc player. Within moments the room swelled with the sound of a single keyboard accompanied by a section of violins. He reached to increase the volume, stopping short, hand just above the control.

She’d never have admitted it at that moment, but he’d impressed her.

“You like classical music?” she questioned with disbelief.

“Music lessons were not optional at my house. My sister and I had to choose an instrument in the sixth grade and stick with it through graduation. I chose the piano.”

“Because of all the great composers?”

“No. Because I figured since it was too big to carry around with me, I could keep the guys at school from finding out about it. I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud before.”

“I promise not to tell your dark secret, as long as you promise to watch the decibel level of your stereo.” She fixed him with an accusing stare. “At least before nine o’clock in the morning.”

Drew ducked his chin, appropriately contrite. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so loud.”

“The heck, you say!” Hank stepped down from the kitchen. “I told you it was gonna wake somebody up, but you were too busy singing along to care.” Hank turned to her. “You ought to hear how loud he has Jimmy Buffett blasting through the showroom down at Metro.”

Drew’s eyes widened. “All you had to do was say something.”

Hank gestured toward the stereo. “But that stuff right there is kinda nice. Why don’t you bring that CD down to the shop with you tomorrow?”

“Well, I’ll just have to do that.”

She glanced from one man to the other, thinking what an odd but colorful team they made, the fifty-something laid back and the thirtysomething uptight.

Hank offered his mug in salute. “Jessica, I owe you one. Come on down to Metro Muscle and I’ll make you a good deal on an old car.”

“Thanks, but I already have an old car.”

“If you change your mind…” He smiled and headed back to the kitchen.

She turned to leave.

Stepping between his guest and the door, Drew reached for the knob and then paused.

“By any chance would your old car be that rusty station wagon with all the gardening supplies stacked next to it?”

Her trouble sensors went on full alert. She was torn between pride in the beloved vehicle and suspicion for why he was asking. But she answered honestly.

“That’s my Ruby.”

“Ruby?”

“Sure, that’s her name. Ruby Red.”

He squinted, confusion etched on his face.

“You seem to care a lot about automobiles. I bet that blue car has a name,” she said matter-of-factly.

Drew glanced over her head toward his partner. Jessica followed his gaze to see Hank busy with the installation of the clothes dryer. Her neighbor looked back at her, leaning in closer.

“Okay. Normally when I tell this to someone, I have to kill them. But I think I can trust you.” He lowered his voice. “When we’re alone, just me and the hot rod, I call him…” He glanced toward the laundry room again and whispered, “Rambo.”

She gasped, first embarrassed, then angry. The big goon burst into loud laughter. She made a fist and gave a solid punch to his shoulder. His face registered surprise at the strength of the blow. He winced and rubbed the spot, but continued to enjoy his laugh at her expense.

“Who told you?” She demanded an answer.

“You mean more than one person knows about my nickname?”

She couldn’t help noticing when he laughed that there were twin dimples in his tanned cheeks. It only made him more attractive.

“Well, I guess I have called you that a time or two….” She held up a hand in defense as his eyes opened wide in mock surprise. “But you have to admit, it’s an obvious comparison under the circumstances.”

“And what exactly are the circumstances?” He arched a dark eyebrow in challenge.

Realizing no good could come from continuing the conversation, she opened the door and prepared to leave. Drew moved toward her and she blocked any advancement with the end of her cane aimed squarely at his broad chest. The image of a lion tamer using a chair to hold off the king of beasts came to her mind.

“Okay,” he conceded. “You’re not the first person to typecast me in that role. But do me a favor and get to know me a little better before you label me. Fair enough?”

She slowly lowered the cane back to its usual place, beside her right leg.

“Fair enough.”

Jessica caught sight of her dog, watching from atop a leather recliner. “Come on, Frasier, let’s go home.”

His head cocked to the left when he heard his name, but he stayed in his comfortable position. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor beside her heel. Frasier dropped his chin and closed his eyes. She heaved an exasperated sigh.

“Before you go, I need to ask—where do you plan to store all those bags of fertilizer you have stacked beside your car?”

“I hadn’t really given it much thought. Why? Are they in your way?”

“Let’s just say I’d enjoy the view a great deal more if they weren’t cluttering up the parking lot.”

“Then let’s also say you wouldn’t be enjoying the view at all if I didn’t have easy access to the bags when I need them.” She stepped outside the door into the hallway.

He tried a smaller request.

“I expect you’ll at least sweep the walk and the hallway clean after you finish for the day.”

Jessica took her weight off the walking stick and straightened to her full height. Standing taller than most women could, and probably closer than most men dared, she fixed him with an icy stare. “What branch of the service did you say you were in again?”

“The United States Army, Special Forces.” He stared right back.