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Authors: Terri Thayer
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have those women in her life, Aldenville wouldn’t be a fun place to be.
Mitch put a hand on her thigh, reminding her of one big reason Aldenville felt like a great place to live. He smiled at her, chucking her under the chin, a move that would have warranted a slap away if attempted by anyone else.
She grabbed his fingers and squeezed. The returned pressure felt like sustenance.
“She can’t stay angry with you,” Mitch reiterated.
“ You can’t stay angry with me,” she countered.
He sensed a change in her mood and furthered it along by kissing her fingertips. “So true.”
He drove with one hand, twirling the steering wheel with his pinky. April felt herself softening. She didn’t want to think about what she’d just done to Mary Lou. She wanted to obliterate the reaction she’d seen on her friend’s face.
Mitch was at the end of the road. “Right or left? Are you coming home with me?”
They’d planned on ending their evening in front of his fireplace. Now the decision had to be made. Left to Mitch’s. Right to the barn. Left to mind-altering ministrations from Mitch. Right to home and nonstop recriminations. There was really no choice.
“Promise to ply me with drink?”
“My best scotch is at your disposal.”
“Promise me to make me forget what a jerk I just was?”
“I have the method in mind,” he said.
“Promise to drive me home in a few hours?”
“I will.” With his right hand, he tapped out a rhythm on her knee. “You won’t be sorry. I built a fire. It’s all ready to go.” His voice grew low and teasing. “Just one match, and whoosh . . .”
April’s thigh heated up where his fingertips now rested. His touch held a lot of promise. They’d be at his house in a few minutes. The house would be toasty, warm enough to get rid of the layers of clothes she was wearing.
“Drive faster,” she said.
April woke up late. Mitch had dropped her off at about two A.M. What sky she could see from the clerestory windows high above her in the loft was pale. The sun might not make an appearance at all from the looks of the cloud cover.
She could hear the usual midmorning noises coming from downstairs. The TV was on. Charlotte opened the refrigerator slowly, trying to be quiet as she got their early lunch started. She’d hate it if she knew her attempts to stifle herself were more annoying to April than a steady stream of noise would be. She held her breath waiting for the refrigerator to make the final squeak. It took forever.
April had hoped that ideas for the stamps for Rocky’s new line would come to her in the night. She often set her mind in gear before falling asleep and came up with wonderful ideas in those moments just before she fully woke up. Last night was not one of those times.
Maybe it was the subject matter. Winter was not an inspiration to her. This winter had been too harsh, too restrictive, too cold for her to enjoy and want to memorialize in stamps. She tried to come up with pictures in her head that reflected the beauty, but nothing was coming.
The real reason was how badly she felt about mouthing off at Mary Lou’s. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, wishing she had said something else.
But it was curious. Mary Lou was the last person she’d expect to have a brother who had died in a meth-lab explosion. It was hard to believe Mary Lou had a criminal in the family. She was so straight.
The purse guns that Logan had showed April took on a new meaning now.
Even so, she hadn’t meant to rub Mary Lou’s nose in it. She couldn’t have known the facts, but still, she had hurt Mary Lou. She needed to make amends quickly.
She would go to Mary Lou’s office for the list of rental houses and talk to her there.
April threw off her duvet. The loft was too warm, victim of the seniors downstairs in charge of the thermostat. She tried not to think of the heating oil they were burning as she started down her ladder.
Charlotte greeted her with a smile. She
Mitch put a hand on her thigh, reminding her of one big reason Aldenville felt like a great place to live. He smiled at her, chucking her under the chin, a move that would have warranted a slap away if attempted by anyone else.
She grabbed his fingers and squeezed. The returned pressure felt like sustenance.
“She can’t stay angry with you,” Mitch reiterated.
“ You can’t stay angry with me,” she countered.
He sensed a change in her mood and furthered it along by kissing her fingertips. “So true.”
He drove with one hand, twirling the steering wheel with his pinky. April felt herself softening. She didn’t want to think about what she’d just done to Mary Lou. She wanted to obliterate the reaction she’d seen on her friend’s face.
Mitch was at the end of the road. “Right or left? Are you coming home with me?”
They’d planned on ending their evening in front of his fireplace. Now the decision had to be made. Left to Mitch’s. Right to the barn. Left to mind-altering ministrations from Mitch. Right to home and nonstop recriminations. There was really no choice.
“Promise to ply me with drink?”
“My best scotch is at your disposal.”
“Promise me to make me forget what a jerk I just was?”
“I have the method in mind,” he said.
“Promise to drive me home in a few hours?”
“I will.” With his right hand, he tapped out a rhythm on her knee. “You won’t be sorry. I built a fire. It’s all ready to go.” His voice grew low and teasing. “Just one match, and whoosh . . .”
April’s thigh heated up where his fingertips now rested. His touch held a lot of promise. They’d be at his house in a few minutes. The house would be toasty, warm enough to get rid of the layers of clothes she was wearing.
“Drive faster,” she said.
April woke up late. Mitch had dropped her off at about two A.M. What sky she could see from the clerestory windows high above her in the loft was pale. The sun might not make an appearance at all from the looks of the cloud cover.
She could hear the usual midmorning noises coming from downstairs. The TV was on. Charlotte opened the refrigerator slowly, trying to be quiet as she got their early lunch started. She’d hate it if she knew her attempts to stifle herself were more annoying to April than a steady stream of noise would be. She held her breath waiting for the refrigerator to make the final squeak. It took forever.
April had hoped that ideas for the stamps for Rocky’s new line would come to her in the night. She often set her mind in gear before falling asleep and came up with wonderful ideas in those moments just before she fully woke up. Last night was not one of those times.
Maybe it was the subject matter. Winter was not an inspiration to her. This winter had been too harsh, too restrictive, too cold for her to enjoy and want to memorialize in stamps. She tried to come up with pictures in her head that reflected the beauty, but nothing was coming.
The real reason was how badly she felt about mouthing off at Mary Lou’s. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, wishing she had said something else.
But it was curious. Mary Lou was the last person she’d expect to have a brother who had died in a meth-lab explosion. It was hard to believe Mary Lou had a criminal in the family. She was so straight.
The purse guns that Logan had showed April took on a new meaning now.
Even so, she hadn’t meant to rub Mary Lou’s nose in it. She couldn’t have known the facts, but still, she had hurt Mary Lou. She needed to make amends quickly.
She would go to Mary Lou’s office for the list of rental houses and talk to her there.
April threw off her duvet. The loft was too warm, victim of the seniors downstairs in charge of the thermostat. She tried not to think of the heating oil they were burning as she started down her ladder.
Charlotte greeted her with a smile. She
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