Valerie Hansen - The Wedding Arbor

His thoughts returned to his guest. Sara Stone was spunky. Most women in her shoes would have collapsed in tears. She was definitely not his type, though. Which was for the best. The last thing he needed or wanted was to become involved in someone else’s personal life.

As if on cue, Sara called out from behind the bathroom door. “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” he replied.

“I hate to bother you, but I just unwrapped my sweatshirt and it’s damp. Got one I can borrow till it dries?”

“Sure. Hang on.” He found a gray fleece that would do. “Here.”

The slim, smooth arm she held out from behind the almost closed bathroom door gave him a start. She had long, tapering, expressive fingers, and delicate, unblemished skin that looked softer than satin.

Adam slapped the rumpled sweatshirt into her hand and turned away. What was the matter with him? Had he been alone so long that any woman, even Sara Stone, looked good to him?

What’s wrong with the way she looks? he admonished himself, analyzing his curious thoughts. What difference did it make? He didn’t intend to relinquish his hard-won tranquility for any reason. All he wanted was to be left alone. Period. End of story.

Reaffirmed, he hunkered down by the fire to wait his turn in the bathroom. He was fine. Content. He had his dog and the wilderness, enough to eat, and a roof over his head. Plus, he could always check on the status of his investments or draw more cash by merely driving to the mom-and-pop grocery store a few miles away and making some phone calls. It was a perfect system. A perfect life.

The bathroom door slowly creaked open. Steam bearing pleasant, feminine fragrances accompanied Sara into the room. Adam found it suddenly difficult to breathe. She’d wrapped one of his towels around her wet hair and twisted it on top of her head. Her long, graceful neck arched above the loose neckline of his sweatshirt. Wisps of light, golden hair had escaped the confines of the towel to curl gently downward and caress her pale skin. Her feet were bare. And she was still lugging that ridiculous pack.

His gaze traveled Sara’s full length and back to her face where she greeted him with the warmest smile and the most appealing hazel eyes he’d ever seen. This beauty was under all that mud? Heaven help him when her hair dried!

“The waist is kind of big but the jeans fit pretty well,” Sara said. “Thanks.” She shook out the fleecy red shirt she’d had wrapped around her laptop computer. “This isn’t nearly as wet as the rest of my clothes. It should dry by the fire in no time.”

“Good.” Adam swallowed hard. Having her staying there, even for one night, was going to be a lot harder on him than he’d imagined. “Are you through in the bathroom?”

“For now.” Sara padded across the floor to stand beside the warm stove. “I left my other clothes on the floor in the corner. As soon as you’ve had your shower I’ll clean up everything. Okay?”

“Sure.” He hoped his consternation didn’t show.

“I kept my shower short so you’d have plenty of hot water.”

“Thanks.” Adam disappeared into the bathroom. What in the world was the matter with him? Why was he so uptight? Anybody would think he’d never been alone with a pretty young woman before.

Stripping off his shirt and jeans he threw them forcefully to the floor. Pretty was an understatement. How could he have been so wrong about Sara’s looks? And how in the world could she have managed to smell so good when all he had on hand was his usual generic shampoo?

A quick glance at the shelf in the shower answered his question. She’d packed for any emergency, the way women did, and brought along all sorts of potions. The bottles were lined up on the lip of his shower stall like little tin soldiers.

Adam closed his eyes and stepped under the stinging spray. He placed both hands on the wall of the shower and bowed his head, letting the water cascade over him. This was the feeling he’d dreaded; the moment he’d tried with all his might to postpone. For the first time in nearly two years he was forced to admit that maybe he didn’t really want to spend the rest of his life alone, after all.

Sara heard her host turn off the shower. She had hung the red sweatshirt next to the stove to finish drying and was carefully checking the condition of her portable computer. It seemed to be functioning well.

“You still there?” he called from behind the closed door.

Sara thought the question totally absurd. “Nope. I went out for pizza. Why?”

“Can’t you give a simple, straight answer?”

Approaching the door she laughed lightly. “Apparently not. Is that all you wanted to ask?” She heard unintelligible muttering.

“No. I wasn’t thinking. I came in here without clean clothes. Would you please hand me some?”

“Sure.” Sara stifled another laugh. “Boy, with a memory like yours it’s a good thing you weren’t going to the store or something, huh?”

“Very funny. Just hand me a pair of jeans and a shirt. There’s a stack of clothes piled on the chest at the foot of the bed.”

“Okay.” Complying, she noticed that nothing was folded. Not that it surprised her. She supposed a bachelor did well to just wash and dry the dirty stuff once in a while. Never mind put it neatly away.

“How shall I get them to you, shove them through the keyhole?” Sara waited for him to open the door.

Again, she overheard muttering. The poor man must really be used to his solitude. Still, even a certified grump needed a little humor in his life. And besides, she was so thankful to have been rescued she was feeling the need to share her elation.

A damp, hairy arm emerged from behind the door, fingers grasping impatiently. “Well?”

“Here.” She crammed the clothes into his hand in a wad. When he didn’t express any thanks she added, “You’re quite welcome, Mr. Callahan.”

Adam flung open the door seconds later, catching her by surprise. This was the first time she’d taken a really good look at her reluctant benefactor. He was tall and muscular. Adam Callahan was clearly a man who used his muscles. Oh, boy, was he!

Stop that! Sara lectured herself. Since when have you been nuts about grouchy Neanderthals?

“I’m not nuts.” She realized belatedly that she had spoken aloud.

“Glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll step out of the way I’ll go tend to Samson.”

“Oh, sorry.” In moments she had recovered her lucidity. “Can I help? I feel like I owe it to him. After all, he did rescue me.”

One of Adam’s dark eyebrows raised. His deep-blue eyes peered down at her. “ Who rescued you?”

“Well, you did, in the end. But if Samson hadn’t heard my car and gone looking for me in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

“Don’t remind me,” Adam grumbled, “or I may leave him out on the porch for the rest of his miserable life.”

That stern warning sounded far too genuine. Sara placed both hands on her hips, her expression defiant. “Now look, mister. I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble for that poor, innocent animal, so knock off the threats. Samson didn’t do anything wrong and you know it.”

“Well, well, you do have a serious side, after all, don’t you? I was beginning to wonder.”

“I can’t help finding humor in lots of different things. It’s just my nature. I guess that’s one of the reasons I’m good at my job.”

“Which is?” Adam grabbed a couple of large bath towels from the laundry pile and started for the door.

“I teach kindergarten and first grade.”

He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“Kids. You know, those cute, short people who like to play in the sand and eat cookies?” She chuckled at the droll expression on his face.