Love Is All Around (17 page)

A vein at the base of her neck began to pulse. “A reminder of what? Something that was never real to begin with?”

Will stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “How do you know if something is real or not, if you don’t give it a chance?”

His gaze was intense. Patsy knew he was going to kiss her, knew she should stop him. She could feel him moving closer, slowly. His breath warmed her cheek. She inhaled. She loved his scent. His bare chest made contact with her breasts through the thin material of her shirt. He kept his eyes open, staring into hers until he slanted his face and pressed his lips against her mouth.

The kiss was slow, thorough, and torturous, too slow. He wasn’t close enough. Patsy wanted more. She opened her mouth, and his tongue swooped inside. Hers greeted him. As their tongues battled for dominance, she placed her hands on his sides, running them over smooth muscles, reveling in the strength she felt there. Then her thumbs hit the waistband of his shorts.

His hands were still pressed into the wall beside her head, his mouth still covering hers. His kiss was urgent, but controlled, like he was engaged in a calculated campaign to overwhelm her senses, as if expecting surrender. Patsy resisted. She lived for a good battle. This was no different.

She made small circles with her thumbs. Should she? The urge to slip her thumbs under the elastic band was becoming an obsession. Why not? She slipped her nails under the material, played with it for a second. The muscles in his back tensed, but he didn’t take his mouth from hers.

The first skirmish was hers. With her thumbs moving downward, Patsy explored the smooth, soft skin hidden by his shorts. Will’s stomach muscles twitched as she stroked. She edged lower until she encountered another barrier, the wide, flat elastic band of his underwear. Will stilled. She lightly flicked the band with her thumbnail. Again, should she?

Will moaned and moved his mouth from her lips to her earlobe. Taking the small bit of skin between his teeth, he tugged gently. Loving the sense of power, she caught the elastic on her nail and slowly slid her thumbs between his skin and the final waistband.

The ping of the ancient doorbell echoed through the house. Patsy jerked her thumbs out of Will’s shorts and her hands away from his body. Will leaned into her further, resting his head on the top of hers. The sound of their breathing seemed to echo through the turret.

“Maybe they’ll go away.” His voice was thick, his words slow, murmured through heavy breaths. Patsy held hers. He didn’t know this town like she did; whoever was on the other side of that door had already taken note of her car and probably how long she’d been inside. They would be all a-tingle with anticipation, hoping to catch her in the middle of something gossip-worthy, and just about anything was gossip-worthy in Daisy Creek.

“Patsalee? You in there?”

Patsy let out her breath. Aunt Tilde had come to call. At least this interloper was friendly, but her family sure had a talent for timing.

Groaning, Will pushed away from the wall. Patsy cowered in embarrassment. What was she doing? If Aunt Tilde had been a few minutes later, there was no telling in what state she would have found them. Second time in a week, she was almost caught with her pants down—literally. Patsy groaned. She was sure her aunt would read the guilt emblazoned across Patsy’s face.

Will leaned in and whispered, “She’s still on the porch. It’s not too late to ignore her.”

Patsy’s only answer was to turn away and study the wainscoting. Cool air replaced his body, as Will strode from the room.

“Where’s Patsalee? I saw her car in the drive. I was stopping by anyway.” Patsy caught a flash of cerise and lime green as her aunt swirled into the house. “Irv said you were without locomotion, and I found something at a sale in Peabody I thought you’d want to see,” Tilde continued.

“What’s that you’re wearing, kid? That’s not enough cloth to steep tea in.”

Patsy knocked her head silently against the wall.

“I left my surprise out in the van. You scurry on out there and lug it in, but put a shirt on first. The neighbors’ll think we’re up to no good for sure, they see you in nothing but that scrap of cloth.”

Footsteps sounded up the steps and back down again, followed by the screen door creaking. Patsy peered out one of the windows that circled the turret. Will, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, strode to Tilde’s full-size van, slid open the side door, and began tugging on something in the back.

“He sure is a fine-looking boy.”

Patsy jumped.

“Why you hiding out in here, kid?” Tilde arched one penciled-in eyebrow.

“I’m not hiding.” Patsy pressed herself against the wainscoting. The feel of tooled leather brought memories of Will’s lips on hers flying back. She flushed.

“You know a body might think you were up to no good, the way you’re lurking in here.” Tilde rubbed the side of her mouth with one finger. “And, ‘course it doesn’t help matters any that he wasn’t wearing enough cloth to wad a rifle.” She stepped further into the room. “But now, I don’t see any signs that you’re missing any clothes. So I guess it’s okay.” She turned to leave.

Her aunt was leaving after just a few remarks. Patsy almost crumpled to the floor in relief.

Tilde turned back. “Don’t get me wrong, kid. I’ve got no problem with a little afternoon delight. I just don’t want to see you get yourself in a fix. You get me?” She raised both brows.

The birds and the bees from Tilde; could her day get any worse? Patsy swallowed hard and nodded. She should have known Tilde wouldn’t leave that easily.

“I’m more modern than your mama. As long as everybody involved is in agreement and making the proper preparations, I don’t see any harm in it.” She cackled. “And done right, it can be downright healthy.”

Would this never end? Patsy willed the floor to open up.

“But don’t you be forgetting those preparations, you hear?”

Staring at the shells on her silver sandals, Patsy gave her head a slight nod.

“Well, you have fun then, but if you need any help figuring out what’s what and how it fits together, you give me a holler.” Grinning, Tilde tromped out of the room.

If God was merciful, he would strike Patsy dead right now. Patsy waited, but as she suspected, she was still among the living and worse, Aunt Tilde and Will.

“Patsalee, get out here and see what I brought the boy.”

Patsy trudged out of the turret in time to see Will, his face redder than Tilde’s nails, wrestling a washstand in the front door.

With a groan, he set it down on the oak floor.

“So, what do you think?” Tilde beamed at them.

The thing was atrocious. Someone had covered it in at least four coats of pea-green paint. Stripes of chicken poop decorated the top and one door was missing. Maybe Patsy didn’t love old things as much as she had thought.

“Now that door is out in the van, and all the hardware is in the drawer.” Tilde tugged a small drawer open, revealing hinges and a knob inside. “And this top.” She knocked on the washstand. “Solid marble. I scratched off a bit of paint, and it’s black underneath. I was always partial to black marble. White is so common, don’t you think? Pink’s nice too, but you just don’t see much of that around here.”

Someone had painted marble. Could you even paint marble?

“So, what do you think?” Tilde stepped back and beamed at Will. “The old man what sold it said it came from the sale here back in the seventies.”

Will squatted down next to the dilapidated piece of furniture. “From here?”

“Yeah, this house. The last of the original family sold everything. If they could unscrew it or yank it out, it got a price tag slapped on it. I can probably help you find a lot of Barnett pieces, if you’re interested.”

“Like a picker?” Will looked up at Tilde.

“Sure, for say, twenty percent?”

Will hesitated for a minute, staring at the broken-down mess on his foyer floor. Looking back at Tilde, he said, “Sounds fair. What do I owe you for this? It’s a great piece.”

Good Lord, Aunt Tilde was going to work for Will. And he wanted the green-paint-covered, poop-encrusted washstand. How could he see anything worth keeping under all that?

Patsy sat on the bottom step, dumbfounded by the unlikely pair her aunt and Will made. She loved her aunt, but the woman was as tacky as a tube top at a wedding, and Will, he looked so cool and put together. Patsy guessed his shirt alone cost more than her aunt’s entire outfit, hair dye and makeup included.

“So, kid, you hanging around here?” Tilde folded the bills Will had handed her and was shoving them into her leopard print handbag. Thank God she didn’t shove them in her bra.

Ralph wandered into the room, Pugnacious on his tail. The pug trotted to the washstand and began sniffing the green base.

“I still haven’t given you the grand tour.” Will picked her dog up.

“Grand tour, hm?” Tilde’s eyes sparkled. “That sounds like something that needs preparing for, don’t you think, kid?”

Patsy leapt from the step and pulled Pugnacious from Will’s arms. “I better get going. Maybe some other time.”

“I’ll be calling you, kid. I got an idea where I can get that sideboard I told you about.” Tilde stepped onto the front porch. Patsy followed.

Will stopped in the doorway. “Wait, Patsy, there was still the....”

Oh yeah, the favor. Patsy paused.

“Save something for another day, kid. She saw your tower. That’s probably as much as she can handle in one visit.” Tilde cackled as she grabbed Patsy’s arm and led her to the Jeep.

o0o

Hell. Will rested his forehead against the closed door. What had happened in the turret?

Not enough, his libido yelled.

If Patsy’s aunt hadn’t rung the bell, what else might have happened?

Something dangerous. Something good.

He was walking in risky territory. He knew it, but couldn’t stop himself. No matter how much Patsy did to complicate his life, he found himself drawn to her. He’d lied about his reason for inviting her inside—both to her and himself. He didn’t seek her out for advice. He sought her out just to see her, be with her, touch her. And he couldn’t get enough of the touching part, wished she was still there, pressed against the leather wainscoting, arms and legs wrapped around him.

He smacked his head against the wood. This was getting him nowhere. He should keep away from Patsy. She was a definite threat to his plans.

Come to think of it, her entire family was, and now he was entangled with Tilde too. He was either a masochist or a complete idiot. He couldn’t decide which he preferred.

He walked to the washstand and flicked a piece of dried green paint off with his thumbnail. Maybe he was a bit of both.

Trying to forget Patsy, he focused on the project. It looked bad, but they made paint stripper. That should do the trick. Just pour it on and watch the green glop run off. Then he’d have a nice piece for his bedroom. He could do that.

A quick trip to BiggeeMart and he’d get to work, both on the washstand and on pushing thoughts of Patsy out of his brain. He walked to the kitchen to retrieve his keys. Seeing the empty peg by the back door, he remembered—no car.

Hell. He did need Patsy’s help with her father.

There was no way around it. He’d have to search her out.

o0o

 It had been two days since the embarrassing scene with Aunt Tilde and Will. Patsy had kept busy working on the website for Sunrise. She enjoyed the process. It wasn’t as relaxing as constructing a basket, but it still allowed her to be creative. She concentrated on the overall look and function of the site and tried to ignore the content. Glenn e-mailed her text files of what Patsy couldn’t help but think of as propaganda. She read as little of them as possible, just inserting html code where needed.

Tomorrow, she and Glenn were scheduled to travel to Sauk City. She wasn’t looking forward to conning people into supplying her with pictures and quotes that supported the mines, so she blocked it from her mind as much as possible. She had other things to think about anyway, like her promise to Ruthann.

Patsy had pinned Dwayne down at lunch the day before, trying to pump him for information on what Randy’s problem was, but Dwayne had been as close-mouthed as an atheist at communion. Not that it mattered. Patsy knew what the problem was. What she didn’t know was how to get Randy to stand up to his mother. But Dwayne had agreed to bring Randy to Gordie’s tonight. It wasn’t the best place to matchmake, but it was about all Daisy Creek had to offer, and if all else failed, at least they served beer. If she had to, she’d get Randy good and liquored up. At the very least, he’d be more willing to admit why he was avoiding Ruthann.

Patsy had been doing a little avoiding of her own. Will had called four times yesterday and three today. Granny shook her head and mumbled as she relayed each message but hadn’t offered her opinion—yet. Patsy was sure Tilde had filled Granny in on the scene at Will’s house.

The whole thing was embarrassing enough without her entire family discussing her sex (or lack of) life. The worst of it was they thought she should jump Will’s bones and worry about the consequences later. But Patsy couldn’t do that. Sex wasn’t something she took lightly, and after seeing him at his house, listening to him talk, Patsy had been forced to admit there was something special about Will. If she committed to him sexually, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to merrily walk away when the time came to leave Daisy Creek. Now, thanks to Glenn, she was closer to realizing that dream than ever before. She couldn’t let a rampant sex drive get in her way.

A knock on the door signaled Ruthann’s arrival. Granny looked up from the TV, where a wrestler dressed like a rapper yelled insults at the crowd. Patsy waved at her to stay seated, gave Pugnacious a kiss, and walked out into the thick night air.

“You ready?” Ruthann tugged on her denim mini skirt.

Patsy stopped for a minute, startled by Ruthann’s hair. “What happened to you?”

“Momma helped me highlight my hair. You like it?”

Patsy wondered if Ruthann’s mother was in league with Randy’s to keep the two apart. She backed Ruthann up under the porch light. Ruthann’s normally mousey hair had multiple wide stripes running through it. The overall effect wouldn’t have been horrible if the stripes hadn’t been as brassy as a new doorknob.