In a Moon Smile (43 page)

Damn it. She was too drunk to get the stupid house key in the lock. “I have a confession,” she said with a slight slur. “I haven’t had Jell-o shots since college.”

“It’s okay,” Dalton laughed. “You’ve been through a lot. You deserved a night to let your hair down.”

After Dalton opened the door, Chesney managed to get to the coffee pot without stumbling, discovered that she had left her cell phone on the counter all evening and pressed the button to speaker so she could listen to messages.

“Okay, so I am beginning to take it personally, Chez. You never call back. I leave all kinds of messages and you never return my calls. What’s up with that?” It was Charlotte, the Chosen Child.

“Your sister?” Dalton grinned.

Chesney nodded, rolled her blood-shot eyes and waited for the next message. “Ms. Blake, this is Art Sampson. I’m calling about the window treatment order on our website. Please respond as soon as you...” beep. She deleted the message. She’d decided a month ago that she didn’t want that fussy stuff on these large, lovely windows. She walked across the kitchen to remove yet another shoe from Blossom’s grip and made a quick dash to use the bathroom while the coffee perked.

“Chez, oh, my Gawd. It’s after midnight and you’re not answering!” Even from the bathroom, Chesney could hear that Becca’s voice was amplified all over the kitchen on the speaker phone. “Do you remember what I have always told you about the right kind of man, Chez? I’ve told you, Girlie, that any man worth his salt...”

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh, my gawd!!!

She had never quite achieved the ability to control a potty break. There was no way to stop herself mid-stream. She either sat right there on the toilet and allowed her bladder to empty for what seemed like four days or she peed her pants making a run for the cell phone.

Becca’s laugh was rich in the air. “Any man worth his salt will search nonstop until he finds that magical clitoris. A good man will bond with your clitoris and get to know her very well. In my opinion, Chez, the hot handyman looks like he knows how to trip your trigger, if you know what I mean. And when he does, you will finally know why a big sex fest is such a big deal.”

Oh, my gosh, I am mortified.

Chesney tiptoed out of the bathroom and leaned against the parlor wall, not knowing how she could possibly face Dalton after Becca had just shouted to the entire world that Chesney knew absolutely nothing about her very own clitoris. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if she could somehow spin that message to be about something else.

Shit. Oh… Shit.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Dalton’s voice forced her eyes open. And there he stood, peeking at her from the kitchen doorway. He said again that she should not be at all embarrassed. But Chesney’s face felt like it would burn off. “Coffee’s on,” he grinned and grabbed her elbow. “You want sugar and cream? How about a snack? That wouldn’t be a bad idea, you know. It might help with tomorrow morning’s hangover.”

He poured the coffee and scrounged through the cupboard until he found some cookies. He warmed them in the microwave, took one and placed a couple on a saucer for Chesney.

“Wow, I, um, I don’t know how to tell you how awkward this feels,” Chesney breathed. “Or how loudly I will yell at Bec next time I talk to her.”

“You forget that I worked on a college campus and I have female cousins. I know a lot more about women than you might think,” Dalton smiled again. “In fact, I think women talk a lot dirtier than guys do.”

Aw, damn. His possible wish that I was some kind of debutante is now down the drain.

“Okay, well, I apologize anyway,” Chesney said in a near whisper. “Obviously, Bec thought I’d be the only listener when she left that message. I hope I have not embarrassed you even a tiny bit as much as I have embarrassed myself.”

“It’s fine,” Dalton grinned again, sipped his coffee and looked up at Chesney for a long moment. “Hot handyman, huh?”

Chesney covered her face, half laughing, half humiliated.

“Alright,” Dalton said. “No more teasing. I can see it’s a little too soon to joke about it. So, okay, let’s talk about something else.”

He shared some history about the town of Bean Blossom, drained his coffee cup and said, “I’ve probably overstayed my welcome.”

Oh, no you haven’t. You haven’t yet made one step toward my bed.

With Blossom romping around in the weeds, Chesney followed Dalton outside to the edge of the porch and lingered there to gaze at the moon. She wanted a perfect moment to ask Dalton where he heard 'see you in a moon smile.' Even though she knew damn well where he’d heard that phrase, she needed to fill in the blanks. She needed to know how in the world he was woven into Grace’s life without Chesney ever knowing about it. Once Dalton answered a few questions, the mystery would be solved. The great anxiety would end, and she would somehow recover from this incredible infatuation with the handyman.

“It's a beautiful evening,” Dalton said.

Chesney could feel his presence behind her. She imagined him gently turning her around to face him. She imagined his hands on her shoulders. He would bend ever so sweetly to barely graze her lips. Against her neck, she would feel his breath. In a whisper Dalton would finally declare his love. His body would press against hers in a passionate frenzy. Her dress would be ripped. Buttons from his shirt would fly.

“I'm glad I got the gutters cleaned,” he said. “When the leaves start to fall in the next week or two, we'll have more than enough work to do, with all the raking.”

Well, you can't get more unromantic than that, Dalton, you big ass. I’m staring at the moon, hoping you carry me up the stairs to my bed. I’m right here beside you, fantasizing my ass off. Dreaming that you’re a much more adorable version of Fabio, and what the hell do you do? You act like friggin’ Fred Flintstone.

Somehow she managed to offer a verbal grunt of agreement about the stupid gutters, just so she wouldn’t look even more like a love starved loser.

“Did you enjoy the evening?” he asked.

“Very much,” Chesney smiled weakly, but tried to rally anyway. “Dinner was delicious. Dancing was fun. It was a really great evening. Thank you so much, Dalton. It was really nice to go out.”

An uncomfortable feeling twirled though her body. There it was again, that electrical static, that feeling she thought she shared with Dalton. But apparently, Chesney was the only prisoner of passion. Mr. Handyman was fast looking like he was just about as romantic as a door knob.

Well, I'm done with this teenager shit, Dalton. I won’t be making a fool of myself for you anymore this evening or any other time. I get the message loud and clear. Whatever I dreamed up in my head was just false hope fluffed up by meaningless bullshit.

She could feel Dalton's eyes on her, which immediately made Chesney feel fidgety. She tossed a lame comment into the air in an effort to break whatever kind of spell Dalton might spin around her heart. “I enjoyed the bar,” she said. “It was like participating in a music video, all those people singing along. I need some cowboy boots, though. I saw immediately that I’m not following the dress code for this neck of the woods.”

“They are good people,” Dalton said. “Hard-working, honest, country people.”

“Maybe that's one of the reasons why I like to be here,” Chesney nodded. “I feel safe here. I feel accepted. I'm not really an outsider since my Granny Grace left her footsteps for me.”

“She certainly did,” Dalton said with a nod and a grin.

Another long silence held the air still between them. In her head, Chesney tried out a few fast excuses. Without hurting his feelings, she just wanted to get away, end the agony. He would leave and she would soak in the tub where she was safe to feel sorry for herself. Every time she worked up the nerve to look at him, Dalton’s eyes studied hers. “Did you want to say something, Dalton?” Chesney finally asked.

He stared for a long moment and once again, Chesney’s mind returned to the dream. With no warning, he would simply reach out and kiss her passionately, right here, right now, in the middle of the overgrown yard, against this old picnic table, which was covered with bird shit.

“I was wondering…” Dalton said slowly.

“Yes?” Chesney could barely breathe. Her cheeks flushed. She wondered if Dalton knew CPR. She might require his emergency assistance if her heartbeat increased much more.

“Do you…”

“Yes?” She couldn’t stop herself. She took a tiny step toward him.

“Do you, do you want the door facings stained or painted?” he finally said.

“What?” Her heart curled into a deflated balloon. She blinked, swallowed and tried to hide the immediate gloom that crossed her chest.

“In the library,” Dalton said as he dropped his eyes. “Do you want the door facings stained or painted?”

“Oh…” Chesney shrugged. “Well let’s think about that for a minute.”

Since we obviously won’t be doing anything else, yes, let’s think about the dumb doors.

“I guess my opinion would be to stain the door facings,” she said. “What about you?”

“That’s my thought, too,” he nodded and took a few steps toward his car. “It’s really late, isn’t it? I guess I’ll get going.”

“Be careful going home,” Chesney faked the cheer in her voice. She wanted Dalton to get the hell away from here and get away fast. She was furious and hurt, humiliated and pissed off. Over her shoulder, she tossed a conciliatory, “Okay, then, drive carefully.”

He climbed into his car and rolled down the window to wave. “Oh, Chesney,” he said suddenly as if he forgot to say something.

She had already started to walk back to the porch but when Dalton called her name, Chesney nonchalantly turned, still trying to seem like she had no other expectations for the evening. “Did you say something, Dalton?”

“I know about them,” he said. His face was serious and Chesney wondered if she was still too drunk to listen well. What in the hell was he talking about? Were they still discussing door stains? Would it be all right for her to admit that she didn’t give a diddly damn about the doors? He could paint them purple for all she cared.

“Sorry, Dalton,” Chesney stuttered. “I thought I had sobered up. But I’m lost here. I guess I didn’t hear everything you said just now.” She sighed, now feeling impatient. “All I heard you say was that you know about them. But I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know about what?”

“I was talking about the female body,” Dalton had a blank expression on his face as his eyes met Chesney’s. “I was saying that I know about a woman’s body. I know a lot about the clitoris.” He grinned broadly and his eyes twinkled. “I just wanted to make sure you knew that, in case you maybe wondered about my, uh, my skill level.”

Oh, shit.

Dalton drove away and Chesney sat down on the bird shit covered picnic table. Her knees were weak with wanting. Her mind was fuzzy with alcohol and unresolved emotions. “Oh man,” she sighed and combed her fingers through her hair. “My entire body is pulsating. I can’t believe the affect that man has on me. He obviously knows it, too. He’s just a tease. And this seems like it’s just a game.” Chesney followed Blossom through the damp grass for the door. “Guess what, Dalton, honey, two can play at this game.” 

A few weeks later, Becca returned to Bean Blossom just in time to support Deke’s art show in Nashville. Chesney also attended but frequently felt like a third wheel. Sometimes she privately scolded herself for feeling envious and jealous. Becca was obviously in love. Though she stayed for one overnight with Chesney, Becca spent the rest of her vacation week at Deke’s cabin. They found what Chesney had always wished for, and though she was insanely happy for her friends, it stung sometimes to feel so alone.

By mid-September, nearly every single project was completed. Dalton stopped appearing every morning at the backdoor and Chesney spent more time writing in her upstairs office.

On this particular autumn afternoon, Chesney was scheduled to speak during a ladies’ luncheon at the library in Nashville. Grace’s dear friend Neetie Milburn had invited Chesney to the event and she was excited, knowing that Grace would have loved the opportunity to accompany her on this outing. Now that October was here, the leaves along the fence row and behind the barn were beautifully colored splashes for the sunrise and sunset. Sunflowers stooped and bowed their heads by the barn. Chesney loved the scent of fall and all the sounds of change. The crunch of dried leaves underfoot reminded her that her first winter experience as the owner of Chesney Ridge was not very far away.

She missed Dalton but made her mind up that she would never let him know. From that first and last date experience, Chesney was convinced that Dalton didn’t see her heart when their eyes met. Every day she missed him, but not enough to risk more humiliation. She was busy enough with her work, busy enough with her new interest in baking. She was busy enough to keep Dalton from constantly hanging around in her head.

Once she found a parking place near the designated library entrance, Chesney took in a deep breath and held it for a moment to calm her nerves. She glanced in the mirror at her make-up then down at the cute sage-colored suit. It was classy enough if the women were Neetie’s age. It was sassy enough for a mixed crowd of different ages.