Home Sweet Home. Kim Watters
the pane Abby could see Cole’s silhouette against the dark backdrop. Distorted and colorful, yet tied together into a recognizable shape, his image reminded her of a Picasso she’d studied in art class.
She took a deep breath, flipped her hair behind her shoulders, and then rubbed her damp hands over the black skirt. The lock didn’t want to slide back again, which didn’t help her nerves. Finally, using her shoulder, she pushed against the door to relieve some of the pressure on the lock and tried again. This time it worked.
Pulling back the oak door, she saw Cole balancing a large square box with a white plastic bag set on top. His hesitant smile signaled that, like herself, maybe he wasn’t as comfortable with the dinner idea, either. “Hi, again.”
“Hi, yourself.” Abby took the box and watched as Cole carefully wiped his feet on the mat before he shrugged out of his black jacket and hung it on a hook on the hall tree.
He retrieved the pizza. “Thanks.”
“We’re in the dining room tonight. I thought it would give us more room.”
“Good idea.” When he moved passed her, the hint of freshly applied aftershave drifted by her nose. His still slightly damp hair curled away from his forehead. Abby forced her hand to remain at her side instead of reaching out to touch it. This reaction to Cole was crazy. He was her contractor. Nothing more.
“Smells delicious.” Abby took her own seat kitty-corner from where Cole stood and settled the blue linen napkin onto her lap.
“It is.” Cole opened the plastic bag and pulled out a baggie full of celery, some Ranch dressing and a Styrofoam container and placed them on the table. “I also took the liberty of getting some barbecue chicken wings. Mama Zita’s place is the best in town. Or it used to be anyway.”
Then he flipped up the lid to the cardboard box, revealing the thin crust pie covered in pepperoni, sausage, onions, green peppers and olives. The tangy aroma teased her taste buds and made her mouth water. Her stomach growled in anticipation because she hadn’t eaten anything since a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at noon.
“Wow. It looks wonderful, Cole.” Abby held up her delicate china plate so Cole could set the slice of pizza on it.
His eyebrows lifted. “Plates? I’m sure I could have gotten some paper ones at Mama Zita’s.”
Abby set it in front of her. “I found paper plates in the pantry. I didn’t want to use them.”
“Why not? They’re so much easier to clean up.” A frown emerged as his gaze roved over her face as if he were trying to make up his mind about her.
She could almost hear the imaginary taunts she’d thought she’d left behind in her awkward teenage years. She knew it had been silly of her to use the plates in the large, built-in cabinet behind her but Abby dared to hope Cole would understand her odd behavior. Her pointer finger traced the gold edge of the antique ivory plate with the multicolored floral print painted on the surface.
“Paper means temporary and on the move and seems a bit impersonal. I want permanence. They’re not exactly my type but they fit with the theme I envision for the house.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. It just surprised me. Outside of a restaurant, I haven’t eaten off a real plate in years.” Cole tucked his napkin on his lap, a hesitant smile creeping across his lips. His confession only solidified his lack of willingness to stay in one place. “You and my sister would get along. She refuses to use paper or plastic because it brings up painful memories.”
“Oh. I’d like to meet her sometime.”
“I’m sure you will. Christine lives on the other side of town but she owns a cute boutique on Main Street. She makes candles for a living.”
Pleasure filled her, yet panic tried to take hold. Cole noticed. Abby bit her lip and glanced away from the twinkle in his eyes. She may have gone overboard though with the candle in the slightly tarnished pewter candelabra gracing the center of the table. The dancing flame created an almost intimate and romantic atmosphere, virtually blocking out everything but the two of them. She grabbed her crystal goblet and drank most of the water inside. While it quenched her parched throat, it didn’t come near to satisfying her need to fit in.
But her lopsided attraction wasn’t the only thing that made her squirm when she picked up her slice. After Cole helped himself to his own pizza and wings, he folded his hands together and bowed his head. Heat creeping to her cheeks, she quickly set down her food and mimicked Cole’s movements. At least he hadn’t asked her to say the prayer.
“Dear Lord, bless this food and this house. May the restoration go quickly and easily. Amen.”
“Amen.” Abby found herself saying the word. She didn’t choke, nor did any lightning bolts appear from the sky. Having heard it many times, she discovered it wasn’t as foreign to her as she’d thought. Abby had just never felt the urge to say it before tonight. Maybe she should go through more carefully the packet Delia gave her and explore the possibilities of religion when they finished the house. If she could open her practical mind and believe… Right.
If God truly existed, why did He let such bad things happen around the world? Why did He take her mom?
Abby picked up her slice again and bit into the pizza. As anticipated, the varied toppings exploded across her taste buds. “This is wonderful. I’ve never had such a combination before.”
“Really?” Cole rested his arms against the side of the table and searched her face. “I thought it was pretty standard. I would have gotten mushrooms, too, but I wasn’t sure if you’d like them.”
“I do, actually.” Abby fell into his warm and inviting gaze. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips and the flame’s reflection danced in his brown eyes. The combination of the candlelight, the inviting scent of pizza and the light sound of classic rock music from the old radio she’d found in the kitchen loosened her tongue. “But a lot of toppings are expensive. When my mom could afford to buy a pizza, we only got cheese. And that wasn’t often.”
Cole’s expression shifted in the flickering light. “I’ll remember that next time. Things changed in my family, too, when my parents split up. Going out to eat, taking in a movie, or even getting the bare necessities like winter gloves and a scarf was a challenge.”
“So that’s why you shoveled my grandparent’s walkway.” Abby gladly shifted the conversation back to Cole. She didn’t want to dwell on the next time or the idea that they had anything similar in their backgrounds because that would probably make her like him more than she already unwillingly did. “And probably why you moved to Phoenix.”
“Among other reasons. I couldn’t wait to get out of this place.”
Abby’s heart stalled at his words. All her life she’d wanted to stay in one place for more than six months. To have what her temporary classmates had. To belong and have a place to call home. She couldn’t imagine wanting to leave Dynamite Creek, and now that she’d found it, she would do everything in her power to be able to stay.
She chewed another mouthful of pizza, realizing she knew nothing about the man next to her except he was about her age and a contractor. If they were to work together, having more background information could only be helpful. Right. She forced herself to swallow, knowing her interest was more personal than professional. “How old were you when you left?”
“Nineteen.” A frown twisted his features as he placed another slice on her plate.
Unused to being served, his action addled her brain. The gentle way he scooped up the wayward bit of sausage and set it back in its place sent her pulse fluttering. If he treated her house that way, or even herself, Abby would have a hard time not falling for him and the way he seemed to care for everything around him. “Thanks.”
His gaze captured hers and Abby couldn’t pull herself from the depths of uncertainty or the hint of despair. Instinctively she leaned closer, wishing she could erase the haggard lines creasing