Boom… swish… splash… gurgle, the deafening sounds woke her. She raised straight up
from the chair, startled. The cold shocked her, a beautiful and content type of cold. It was a good feeling, like going to a football game in freezing weather, with your face cold and numb, but you don't care because the home team had won the game. Fans are so excited about the win, they forgot about the weather. They didn't even care about their runny nose.
Lana took one final deep breath before heading to the house. Glancing back, she wanted one last look at the most incredible sight—the Atlantic Ocean.
As she shut the back door, she could hear Mike working on the furnace, busy as a beaver.
She noticed he added wood to the fire and thought that was a thoughtful gesture. She could hear him putting tools in the toolbox and wondered if he had finished. In the kitchen, she put the kettle on and searched for food, preferably something warm and hearty. Grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup sounded like the best alternative.
Mike walked in the room just as she poured herself a cup of tea. He pulled a paper towel off the rack and wiped the oily grunge off his hands. Then he washed them, using lots of soap and scrubbing them under the hot water. "I have good news and bad news, which do you want first?"
he asked as he scrubbed between his fingers and under his nails.
While frowning, she said, "Neither."
He laughed and told her anyway. "This part is not stocked, and it won't be in until tomorrow or maybe the next day. They had a part that I thought might fit, but it didn't work."
"What's the good news?" She held up a mug to ask if he would like some tea and he nodded.
"There is plenty of wood in the bin."
"I'm supposed to get up in the middle of the night and add wood to the fire?" She noticed he didn't look at her face as she walked by him. He stared at her tight sweater.
He cocked his left eyebrow and answered her. "I'll bring some wood in and sit it near the fireplace. All you have to do is throw it on the rack." He went through the motions as if he were throwing wood in the fireplace, but his movement looked as though he was shoveling coal. With his boyish grin, he added, "I'll come put it on for you if you want me too."
Surely, he wasn't serious, but she kind of hoped he was. Please stay and hold me all night and keep me warm, she thought. In her heart, she wanted him to stay and talk, but she also needed to listen to her brain. How should she word this? "Mike you are more than welcome to stay for supper, I plan to make grilled cheese and soup. But I don't want you to think you are obligated to stay and put wood on the fire. I was teasing you about the wood. I don't mind keeping the fire going throughout the night."
He didn't answer right away, and she could tell he was in deep thought. Maybe he didn't like soup or grilled cheese, or maybe she overstepped her boundaries.
After thirty long seconds he finally spoke, "I feel guilty that you fixed lunch, and now you're offering me supper. I know you wanted to get away to be alone."
Maybe he didn't want to stay, and he didn't know how to tell her. Panic knotted her throat, and her body stiffened. Rarely did she make such offers, especially to a man she hardly knew.
When she glanced up to meet his eyes, he looked as though he was trying to find the right words.
She decided if he wanted to stay, she had offered, and if he didn't want to stay he could move on… um… no big deal.
He turned away from her and picked up his tools.
Suddenly, she felt vulnerable and foolish. She fought the tears and turned away from him.
Her weak legs wouldn't allow her to move. She grabbed hold of the edge of the countertop. She was hurt and mad at herself because she totally misjudged him.
He walked out the door.
She felt bewildered and embarrassed.
Within a few seconds, he walked back in, went over to the TV cabinet in the living room, and pulled out the Scrabble game. He then spun on his heels and said, "I'll stay if you play me a game of Scrabble, maybe two or three. But I forewarn you, I am the best in Massachusetts."
Sudden relief inundated her, and she reciprocated his enthusiasm by throwing her hands on her hips and said, "Well I'm the best in Tennessee, so this could be a long and challenging game."
A beautiful bright smile crossed his face as he set up the game.
She went to the kitchen to start supper. Within a few minutes, he joined her and started helping. They chattered up a storm. In a million years, she never would have dreamed that she could talk so freely about everything and nothing with a virtual stranger.
They took their time as they cleaned the kitchen and Lana enjoyed every minute. While she did the dishes, he walked past her every chance he got. There wasn't much room between the bar and sink, and she noticed he took the long way around to the refrigerator. He did this so he would have to squeeze by her. She also noticed he put everything away, one item at a time.
Finally, Mike laid down the kitchen towel, put his arm around her waist and asked, "Are you ready to lose?"
"You sound confident," she coyly answered. But her heart fluttered, and her mind dwelled on how inviting his arm felt around her waist. Every touch sent shivers through her body. And with each passing minute it seemed to intensify. If he stayed very long this evening, she didn't know how her heart would survive.
After he had finished putting a few more logs on the fire, he sat on the couch. She sat on the floor across from him, near the fire. The Scrabble game was in the middle on the coffee table.
They drew their tile letters. "Ladies first," he said with a grin. He looked squarely into her eyes, and that showed he radiated confidence.
She panicked. "No, I insist you go first." She didn't have the best letters—if the truth be told.
She hoped she could play on his word. Plus she needed more time to think.
"If you insist," he answered with one eyebrow cocked. Without delay, he played the word nastier vertically on the board. She couldn't believe it. The first word and he played all seven tiles.
Her stress level shot out the roof. She already could tell this game was going to be the most challenging scrabble game she had ever played. No one ever played all seven letters the first play. She looked at her tiles, and she arranged them, then rearranged them, and then came her eureka moment. She played the word diamond off the 'I' in nastier. She looked over at him and he stared right at her, grinning. "Take that Mike."
He wasn't going to be outdone, not Mike. He pulled another word out of his hat. Off the 'r' in the word nastier, he plays report.
They toggled back and forth for hours, and he was right, he's good. During the ardent games, she noticed him glance her way several times. When she caught him looking at her, she blushed.
She thought she turned red more in the past two days than she had the past twenty years.
"What's the score?" Mike asked after the third game. He hoped she wanted to play another game. He wanted to stay, no doubt about that. He wanted to look at this enticing and beautiful woman. Every time she looked at him, his heart turned cartwheels. He didn't play as well as he normally played, she distracted him.
"I'm winning. Do you honestly want me to tell you the score and make you feel
embarrassed?" She held the paper with the score behind her back.
"Do you truly want to go that direction?" That move made him happy. It was an excuse to get close to her, to wrap his arms around her.
"Go where?"
Mike stood up and walked over to her, and it was not a challenge for his long monkey arms to reach behind her. He didn't even have to stretch to get the paper. He looked down at the paper and raised his left eyebrow at her. "There is not one word written down."
Her eyes danced with excitement as she teased him. "I forgot?"
Mike laughed hysterically. "You nut."
Taking a deep breath, she wrapped a lightweight afghan around her shoulders and stood near the fire. She needed a warmer blanket, but she didn't want to leave Mike to find one.
The wind howled letting them know it would be a cold night, and it sounded creepy. But it didn't bother Mike. He went outside and brought in a bunch of wood and laid it on the fireplace hearth. "Do you think this is enough wood? I have some at the side of the house I'm going to bring to the bin. I don't want you to have to go outside during the night."
"I think that's more than enough."
He walked over and stood in front of the fire next to her. Electricity was evident between them, but neither of them said a word. She wondered what was on his mind. They shyly glanced at each other like two elementary schools kids with crushes, not knowing what to say.
Cautiously he walked behind her and deliberately rubbed her arms rapidly as though to warm her. His strong hands rubbed a little too hard, but she didn't say anything. She didn't want him to let go.
Without seeing her face, he asked, "Do you…" he paused and loudly swallowed. "…think this is enough wood for the night?" He chickened out asking, do you want me to stay?
She whispered with a cracked voice. "I slept on the couch last night, and I slept just fine, so I'll be alright tonight."
"Yes, but tonight will be much colder." God, he didn't want to leave her, he wanted to take her in his arms and keep her warm.
She could feel his breath on her hair and she closed her eyes picturing him behind her. It was like his emotions transferred from his heart to hers, through his fingertips. She licked her lips.
They seemed dry all of a sudden. She knew he could feel her shaking, or maybe it was him.
Should she lean back onto his chest? Oh God she wanted to, she wanted to melt into him.
Finally, he let go, but then stood in the same spot for a few more seconds. He took a deep breath then walked outside and brought in more wood, piling it high on the hearth.
The pile was so high, she knew she had to be careful taking wood off or it might fall on her foot. She walked over and gave him a hug as a goodwill gesture, to thank him for being thoughtful. He held her for a few seconds, but it wasn't long enough. Every ounce of her body seemed to melt.
He backed up and longingly looked down at her. "I hate to leave you without a heater," he whispered.
Maybe he was trying to find an excuse not to leave at all. She broke their stare by saying the most stupid remark. "Our ancestors managed just fine without a furnace, and I don't think one night without a heater will kill me."
He gently took hold of her shoulders and looked down into her green eyes. "If you get cold or you think you need me, you have to promise to call." Never did he look away from her gaze, wanting an answer from her. He hoped the answer might be an invitation to stay.
Nervousness prevented her from giving him an honest answer, I want you to stay. She couldn't deny the spark of chemistry between them. Surely he felt the same way, or he wouldn't be so concerned about a total stranger. Maybe he just felt obligated to take care of her. She tried to be light-hearted about it. "Now Mike, you are the only person I know here, so you know I would call you."
He reached down and ruffled her hair. "Well in that case I'll head on home. I brought in a lot of firewood so you should have enough until morning." He picked up his coat and took his time walking to the door. "I'll be back in the morning with breakfast, but not before eight. Is eight okay with you?"
"Absolutely, and I will take you up on breakfast." After all this bantering, he still didn't stay, nor did she get a kiss.
He gave her a long close hug and then left.
She stood in front of the fire and sort of laughed at herself. She came to Plymouth to heal and right now she was sad, not sad because her cousin died, but because she realized she had met the love of her life, and he just walked out the door.
Right now she was tired, and she would have to pull a Scarlett O'Hara, I'll just have to worry about that tomorrow. Oh, James. She wished he were here so she could call him. He always talked sense to her. She knew he looked down from Heaven laughing at her—and wishing her the best.
*****
Mike coaxed his Dodge to start. He knew how cold-natured she was. He let her sit for a few minutes—to cough out the cold. She sputtered just a little; soon she would be ready to take the familiar journey to Boston. As ole Bessie, as he called his Dodge, choked, so did his heart. What just happened in there? Even with the cold outside he didn't feel it. His heart raced with excitement. Just the thought of Lana made every muscle in his body rigid. That green-eyed blonde captured his heart, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. Nor did he want to oppress those feelings.
Yesterday, the moment he saw her—that was it! Mike knew this voluptuous blonde was the woman for him. He knew the second she got out of her car. The blonde hair is what he noticed first. Then he noticed her size, short and tiny. She almost looked like a child standing there, obviously energetic and bubbly. Once she came in the house and took off her coat, he noticed her large chest and tiny waist. It was obvious at this point she was not a little girl, but a desirable woman. Her blonde, straight hair flowed down her back. She had a pointed nose and small square jaw line. He towered over her, so he knew she couldn't be more than five-foot-four. Her tight sweater showed every curve including her round butt. But what he noticed the most were those beautiful green eyes. He thought back and couldn't remember ever dating a girl with green eyes, his loss.
He knew in his heart that he would pursue this gal. Lana was the first person since his wife, Kathy, who made him feel virile. He liked that feeling. Since his wife, he didn't want to find anyone. Just thinking about Lana caused manly enthralling. He took a deep breath when he thought about having sex with the beauty. It would be more than sex. There would be caring and love. The better term would be making love. Yes, he knew it would be significant and loving.
Making love to her would not be emotionless, as it had been with other women. It would be better, much better. The rest of the drive to Boston his body ached for her.
When you're smitten nothing else matters, and that's the way it should be. He was major smitten!