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Good question. “I thought I’d go over the invoice that lists out the roofing materials with you.”
She tipped her head. “You could have brought it over tomorrow.”
“I was on my way home and thought maybe you’d want to grab dinner.” Showing Annie what she paid for on the roof was reason enough to stop by. But then, maybe it was about spending time with her, too, making sure she was okay. Stopping by her house later wasn’t a good idea, and tomorrow, he’d be busy with the roof, hurried along by Luke.
“Dinner, huh?” She looked wary.
“Are you feeling up to it?”
Then annoyed. “You don’t have to worry about me, you know.”
“I know.” So why was he? He thought about her a lot. Maybe too much. “But we both have to eat.”
She smiled. “I am hungry and cooking doesn’t sound appealing tonight.”
“I’ll even let you pick the place.” He smiled back.
That earned him an evil look of mischief like the old Annie. “There’s a new restaurant down the street that’s good.”
Matthew got nervous considering what Annie thought was good food. “Do they serve real meat?”
“Yes.” She chuckled and sat down to unlace the ribbons of her ivory-colored ballet shoes with the square toes.
“Does it hurt?”
“Does what hurt?” She pulled off a sheer footie sock.
“Standing on your toes like that.”
Annie stretched out bare feet and wiggled her skinny, calloused toes that were taped in places. “I’ve exercised them all my life to make them strong, so I’m used to it. But my feet are ugly.”
He’d never noticed her feet before. They looked work-hardened but not bad. “I’ve seen prettier.”
She clobbered him in the shoulder but laughed. It sounded good hearing her laugh. “Let me throw on a cover-up and we’ll go.”
“I’ll be right here.” He meant it, too. She could lean on him. “Always here for you. I hope you know that.”
She nodded. After scooping up her ballet shoes, she entered her windowed office and slipped on a baggy cotton dress over her dance clothes. Annie turned off the lights and swung a big purse over her shoulder before coming back to stand before him. She’d slipped into cloth-like flats that barely covered her feet.
“After you.” She opened the door for him.
He stepped outside and waited while she locked up. “How far is it?”
Annie shrugged. “About a block away. Do you mind walking?”
“Not at all.” He almost reached for her hand.
This felt a lot like a date. Was he trying to date Annie Marshall? Surely, it was too soon to go there.
He glanced at the woman walking beside him. She was a few years older than him. Not that it mattered. Not to him. The fine lines near her eyes didn’t detract a bit. She’d always been beautiful. And ageless, like one of those models he’d see on infomercials sharing their fountain-of-youth secrets.
Annie caught him staring. “What?”
“Nothing.” He really needed to cover this awkward awareness or they’d have an uncomfortable dinner together. “I was just picturing your feet.”
She rolled her eyes. “Real nice.”
It felt good to tease her. Like they were friends again and nothing had happened to change that. There was no reason to let one kiss change what they were. They were friends. He needed to remember that.
Chapter Three (#ulink_aa0a2748-c319-52ee-a876-9bf5ad524869)
“Thanks for dinner.” Annie snuggled deeper against the passenger seat of Matthew’s truck. She should have stood her ground and walked home like normal. It might have energized her after dinner. The restaurant was only a few blocks from her house, but Matthew wouldn’t hear of it.
Matthew turned onto her street. “No problem.”
After the cold, damp month of April, May had whispered in with warm days, but the evenings still turned cool.
It was still daylight at nine in the evening as the sun hadn’t quite set. One of the many advantages of living in northern Michigan was the long days summer provided.
She let loose a yawn and her eyelids drooped.
“Tired?”
“Yeah. I ate way too much.”
Matthew chuckled. “I’m glad you’ve got your appetite back.”
Tonight, her appetite had returned with a vengeance. She’d eaten everything in sight while Matthew went over the list of materials purchased for her roof. She’d told him not to worry, that she trusted him, but he’d been thorough, anyway. He wanted her to know what he and his brother were doing and why.
He pulled into her driveway and put the truck in park then turned toward her. “I’m worried about you.”
Annie stared straight ahead. “Don’t be. Please? I’m working through this.”
“You don’t have to do it alone. I’m right here.”
Annie looked at Matthew’s earnest face. It’d be easy to depend on him. And too easy to repeat the kiss that had happened in this same truck. She wasn’t going to do that to him. It wasn’t fair to trap him into something that was merely grief-driven, or worse. Maybe this was about hormones.
She forced a smile. “I know you are, and I appreciate it. You don’t owe me anything, Matthew.”
He looked relieved, but troubled. “I know.”
She cupped his cheek and smiled. “I’m okay.”
He leaned toward her, only slightly, and then stopped. His blue eyes searched hers.
Annie pulled her hand back before her overactive hormones kicked her into trouble. Again. “Good night, Matthew.”
“Good night.”
She slipped out of his truck. Bounding up the stairs onto the porch, she turned and waved before unlocking her door. He didn’t leave. She knew he wouldn’t leave until she was safely inside.
And behind a locked door.
In the dining room, she peeked through the curtains. Matthew waved then left. He treated her like glass since he’d come home. Maybe because she’d shattered so quickly after that kiss.
Her purse vibrated, so she pulled out her cell phone. “Hello?”
“Annie, where are you? I was getting worried.” Ginger had called twice according to her missed calls.
“Sorry, I went out to dinner and forgot to switch my phone back to a ringtone after dance class. What’s up?”
“I wanted to see how you’re feeling.”
Annie clamped down irritation. Really, she should be thankful that she had good friends. People who cared. But she wasn’t twelve years old and staying home alone for the first time. “I’m fine.”
“Wait, who’d you go to dinner with?”
“I went with Matthew.”
“Oh?”
Annie knew that tone well. She wasn’t biting on her friend’s tell-me-more interest. “What’s with that stunt in selling him morning sickness tea?”
“He asked what you’d like, so that seemed like the perfect choice because you needed something for the nausea.” She sounded innocent enough. “Does it help?”
“Yes, but I didn’t want anyone to know. Not yet.” Annie plopped onto the couch and kicked off her shoes before putting her feet up.
Despite the red nail polish on her toes, she’d always have ugly feet. How many times had her mother-in-law said it was unnatural to go en pointe?
“So, he figured it out?”
“Yeah, and now he’s redoing my roof.” Annie wiggled her toes.
“Out of the blue, he’s replacing your roof?”
“No. He and Jack were going to do it this summer, during their shared week off. Matthew wanted to keep that promise. His brother is helping him.”
“Uh-huh.”
Was that sarcasm she heard? “Ginger—”
“Sounds to me like he’s doing this for you because he cares.”
“Of course he cares. He was Jack’s best friend.” Annie’s stomach tipped and rolled.
Gas bubbles? And small wonder after the meal she’d eaten. This weird feeling had more to do with her digestion than any dawning attraction to Matthew. She’d read about what to expect in the months ahead. She shouldn’t feel the baby’s movements for a least another couple weeks to a month.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Annie knew exactly what Ginger meant. “It’s way too soon.”
Her friend snorted. “Says who?”
“Seriously? Anyone would think it’s too soon. Besides, how can I even think about someone else after Jack?”
“Jack’s gone, hon.” Ginger’s voice grew soft and full of sympathy. “It’s okay to care for someone new. Especially someone who understands what you’re going through. Matthew knows how much this hurts.”
Annie’s throat grew tight. That’s what was scary. Matthew knew her well. He felt what she felt. But half of her also felt dead. Grief had a way of numbing emotions, and some feelings never came back. Not exactly a prize for a guy as sweet as Matthew Zelinsky. He deserved better. He deserved someone whole. And someone young.
* * *
The next day, Matthew took in his and Luke’s handiwork from atop Annie’s home. The roof was nearly done. With rain forecasted for the looming Memorial Day weekend, they’d finish up in the nick of time. He stretched and yawned.
He spotted Annie resting in a lounge chair after she’d spent the morning weeding her flower beds. Her small garden plot lay untouched and unready for planting. Now that it was only her, maybe she didn’t want to plant vegetables.
That small reminder of Jack’s death hit him like a punch in the gut as a sense of loss swamped him. Jack had always bragged about his wife’s cucumbers and tomatoes and onions. He used to bring bags of her homegrown veggies onto the laker. Matthew hated the thought of Annie giving it up.
She hadn’t moved from that lounge chair in a while. Had she fallen asleep again? Dressed in loose overall shorts and a T-shirt, Annie had a large floppy hat covering her face so he couldn’t tell if she was awake or not.
He checked his watch. Nearly noon. “Hey, I’m going to buzz home real quick.”
“What for?” Luke took a long swig from his water bottle.
The sun scorched them both and lunch would be a welcome break.
“I’m going to grab that fish we caught last night. We can grill it here for lunch.” Maybe that’d bolster Annie’s spirits. She loved a fresh catch.
“Good idea.”
Matthew climbed down the ladder. “Anything you want to go with it?”
“Coleslaw.”
He nodded. Annie had been feeding him and his little brother every day. Lunch was ordered in or picked up from the corner IGA store. They’d had pizza, sub sandwiches and even a bucket of fried chicken. Stuff Annie didn’t eat. Today, he’d grill something for her and maybe pick up a couple funky salads, too. Annie liked a lot of greens. She’d eaten a whole plateful of rabbit food last night at dinner.
It didn’t take long to buy what he needed. The small house he shared with one of his older brothers—and soon Luke—sat on the edge of town. Right near the locally owned and operated grocery store. In less than half an hour, he was back at Annie’s lighting the gas grill.
Luke worked on the roof while he grilled and Annie continued to snooze. The woman could really sleep. Did the baby sap her energy, or was it depression? Grief could fall into despair.
He prayed Annie wasn’t so wrecked by Jack’s death that she couldn’t sleep at night. She had smiled, though. Laughed even. With him. So he had hope that she was making her way back.
He stepped inside to gather plates, utensils and glasses full of ice. Annie kept the cooler outside stocked with water and pop. She’d also made sun tea in a big glass jar with a spigot.
Luke appeared from the roof and set the table.
Annie woke up and, looking dazed, headed toward the deck gripping her midsection. “What’s that garlicky smell?”
“Lunch.” He lifted the lid and pulled the tray of perfectly seasoned walleye fillets off the grill. “Luke and I caught these last night.”
