The Rescue (13 page)
"Kyle, put that down. Your candy's already in the bag."
Before she caught him staring at her, Taylor shook his head and turned away, wondering again how he could have overlooked her beauty that night. A moment later Denise was back in front of him, Kyle now standing beside her. Kyle's expression was glum, caught with his hand in the cookie jar and all that.
"Sorry about that. He knows better," she said apologetically.
"I'm sure he does, but kids always press the limits."
"You sound like you're speaking from experience."
He grinned. "No, not really. Just my own. I don't have any children."
There was an awkward pause before Taylor spoke again.
"So I take it you're in town for a few errands?" Small talk, nothing talk, Taylor knew, but for some reason he was reluctant to let her leave.
Denise ran her hand through her disheveled ponytail. "Yeah, we needed to grab a few things. The cupboard was getting pretty bare, if you know what I mean. How about you?"
"I'm just here to pick up some soda for the guys."
"At the fire department?"
"No, I only volunteer there. The guys who work for me. I'm a contractor-I remodel homes, things like that."
For a moment she was confused. "You volunteer? I thought that went out twenty years ago."
"Not here it hasn't. In fact, not in most small towns, I imagine. As a general rule, it's not busy enough for a full-time crew, so they depend on people like me when emergencies come up."
"I didn't know that." The realization made what he'd done for them seem even greater than before, though she wouldn't have thought it possible.
Kyle peered up at his mother. "He's hungry," he said. (Eez hungwy)
"Are you hungry, sweetheart?"
"Yes."
"Well, we'll be home soon. I'll make you a grilled cheese sandwich when we get there. Does that sound okay?"
He nodded. "Yes, it's good." (Yes, ess good)
Denise, however, didn't move right away-or at least not fast enough for Kyle. Instead she looked at Taylor again. Kyle reached up and tugged his mother by the hem of her shorts, and her hands automatically went down to stop him. "Let's go," Kyle added. (Wess go)
"We're going, honey."
Kyle's and Denise's hands engaged in a little battle as she peeled his fingers away and he tried to grab the hem again. She took him by the hand to stop him.
Taylor stifled a chuckle by clearing his throat. "Well, I'd better not keep you. A growing boy needs to eat."
"Yeah, I suppose so." She gave Taylor an expression of weariness familiar to mothers everywhere and felt a strange sense of relief when she realized he didn't seem to care that Kyle was acting up.
"It was good seeing you again," she added. Even though it sounded perfunctory to her ears-all part of the "Hi. How are you? That's good. Nice seeing you!" routine-Denise hoped he could tell that she actually meant it.
"You too," he said. He grabbed Kyle's helmet and gave it a shake as before. "And you too, little man."
Kyle waved with his free hand. "Bye-bye, Tayer," he said exuberantly.
"Bye."
Taylor grinned before heading toward the refrigerators along the wall to get the soda he'd come for.
Denise turned toward the counter, sighing to herself. The owner was immersed in Field and Stream magazine, his lips moving slightly as he perused the article. As she started toward him, Kyle spoke again.
"He's hungry."
"I know you are. We'll be on our way soon, okay?"
The owner saw her approaching, checked to see if she needed him or just her groceries, then set his magazine aside.
She motioned toward the bags. "Would you mind if we left this here for a few minutes? We have to get some other kinds of bags that loop over the handlebars."
Despite the fact he was already halfway across the store and pulling a six-pack of Coca-Cola from the refrigerator, Taylor strained to hear what was going on. Denise continued.
"We're on our bikes, and I don't think I can get this all home. It won't take long-we'll be right back."
In the background her voice trailed off and he heard the manager answer. "Oh sure, no problem. I'll just put them behind the counter here for now."
Soda in hand, Taylor started toward the front of the store. Denise was shepherding Kyle out of the store, her hand placed gently on his back. Taylor took a couple of steps, thinking about what he'd just overheard, then made up his mind on the spot.
"Hey, Denise, wait up. . . ."
She turned and stopped as Taylor approached.
"Were those your bikes outside the store?"
She nodded. "Uh-huh. Why?"
"I couldn't help but overhear what you told the manager and . . . well . . ." He paused, that steady blue gaze holding her motionless in the store. "Can I give you a hand getting your groceries home? I'm heading right by your place, and I'd be happy to drop it all off for you."
As he spoke, he motioned to the truck parked right outside the door.
"Oh no, that's all right. . . ."
"Are you sure? It's right on the way. Take me two minutes, tops."
Though she knew he was trying to be kind, a product of a small-town upbringing, she wasn't sure she should accept.
He held up his hands, as if sensing her indecision, an almost mischievous grin on his face. "I won't steal anything, I promise."
Kyle took a step toward the door, and she put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. "No, it's not that. . . ."
But what was it, then? Had she been on her own so long that she didn't even know how to accept other people's kindness anymore? Or was it that he'd already done so much for her already?
Go ahead. It's not like he's asking you to marry him or anything. . . .
She swallowed, thinking of the trip across town and back again, then loading up all the groceries to transport home.
"If you're sure it's not out of your way . . ."
Taylor felt as if he'd achieved some sort of minor victory.
"No-it's not out of the way at all. Just let me pay for this and I'll help you carry your things to the truck."
He returned to the counter and set the Coca-Cola by the register.
"How do you know where I live?" she asked.
He looked over his shoulder. "It's a small town. I know where everyone lives."
Later that evening, Melissa, Mitch, and Taylor were in the backyard, steaks and hot dogs already sizzling over charcoal, the first vestiges of summer lingering almost like a dream. It was a slow-moving evening, the air bruised with humidity and heat. The yellow sun hovered low in the sky just above the stationary dogwoods, the leaves motionless in the still evening air.
While Mitch stood ready, tongs in hand, Taylor nursed a beer, his third of the evening. He had a nice buzz going and was drinking at just the right pace to keep it that way. After catching them up on what had been happening recently-including the search in the swamp-he mentioned that he'd seen Denise again at the store and that he'd dropped her groceries off.
"They seem to be doing fine," he observed, slapping at a mosquito that had landed on his leg.
Though it was said in all innocence, Melissa gave him the once-over, eyeing him carefully, then leaned forward in her chair.
"So you like her, huh?" she said, not hiding her curiosity.
Before Taylor had a chance to answer, Mitch cut into the conversation.
"What did he say? That he liked her?"
"I didn't say that," Taylor said quickly.
"You didn't have to. I could see it in your face, and besides, you wouldn't have dropped her groceries off if you didn't." Melissa turned to her husband. "Yeah, he likes her."
"You're putting words in my mouth."
Melissa smiled wryly. "So . . . is she pretty?"
"What kind of question is that?"
Melissa turned to her husband again. "He thinks she's pretty, too."
Mitch nodded, convinced. "I thought he was kind of quiet when he arrived. So what's next? You gonna ask her out?"
Taylor turned from one to the other, wondering how the conversation had spun in this direction.
"I hadn't planned on it."
"You should. You need to get out of the house once in a while."
"I'm out all day long. . . ."
"You know what I mean." Mitch winked at him, enjoying his discomfort.
Melissa leaned back in her chair. "He's right, you know. You're not getting any younger. You're already past your prime."
Taylor shook his head. "Thanks a lot. Next time I need some abuse, I know exactly where to come."
Melissa giggled. "You know we're just teasing."
"Is that your version of an apology?"
"Only if it makes you change your mind about asking her out."
Her eyebrows danced up and down, and despite himself Taylor laughed. Melissa was thirty-four but looked-and acted-ten years younger. Blond and petite, she was quick with a kind word, loyal to her friends, and never seemed to hold a grudge about anything. Her kids could be fighting, the dog might have messed on the rug, the car wouldn't start-it didn't matter. Within a couple minutes she'd be back to her old self. On more than one occasion Taylor had told Mitch that he was a lucky man. Mitch's answer was always the same: "I know."
Taylor took another drink from his beer. "Why are you so interested, anyway?" he asked.
"Because we love you," Melissa answered sweetly, as if that explained it all.
And don't understand why I'm still alone, Taylor thought.
"All right," he finally said, "I'll think about it."
"Fair enough," Melissa said, not bothering to hide her enthusiasm.
Chapter
12
The day after Denise had run into Taylor at Merchants, she spent the morning working with Kyle. The accident seemed to have had neither a negative nor a positive impact on his learning, though now that summer had arrived, he seemed to work best if they were able to finish before noon. After that it was too warm in the house for either of them to concentrate.
Earlier, right after breakfast, she'd called Ray and asked him for a couple of extra shifts for the time being. Fortunately he'd consented. Starting tomorrow night she'd work every evening except Sunday, as opposed to her usual four shifts. As always, she'd head in around seven and work until midnight. Though coming in a little later meant less in tips because she'd miss a good portion of the dinner rush, she couldn't in good conscience leave Kyle in the back room for an extra hour all by himself while he was still awake. By arriving later, she could put him down in the cot and he'd fall asleep within minutes.
She'd found herself thinking about Taylor McAden ever since she'd run into him at the store the day before. Just as he'd promised, the groceries had been placed on the front porch, in the shade provided by the overhang. Because it hadn't taken more than ten or fifteen minutes for her to make it back home, the milk and eggs were still cold and she'd put them in the refrigerator before they spoiled.
While Taylor had carried the bags to his truck, he'd also offered to put their bikes in the back and give them both a ride, too, but to that Denise had said no. It had less to do with Taylor than Kyle-he was already getting on his bike, and she knew he was looking forward to another ride with his mother. She didn't want to ruin that for him, especially since this would probably be a regular routine and the last thing she wanted was for him to expect a truck ride back every time they came to town.
Still, part of her had wanted to accept Taylor's offer. She'd been around long enough to know that he'd found her attractive-the way he looked at her made that plain-yet it didn't make her uncomfortable the way the scrutiny of other men sometimes did. There wasn't the usual hungry gleam in his eye while he'd stared at her-the one that implied a roll in the sack would solve everything. Nor had his eyes wandered downward while she spoke-another common problem. It was impossible to take a man seriously when he was staring at her breasts.
No, there was something different about the way he'd looked at her. It was more appreciative somehow, less threatening, and as much as she resisted the idea, she'd found herself not only flattered by it, but pleased as well.
Of course, she knew it could have been part of Taylor's shtick, his way of coming on to women, a pattern honed over time. Some men were good at that. She'd meet them and talk to them, and every nuance of their being seemed to imply that they were different, more trustworthy, than other men. She'd been around long enough to meet plenty of those types as well, and usually she'd hear little alarm bells going off. But Taylor was either the finest actor she'd ever come across or he really was different, because this time the bells were silent.
So which was it?
Of the many things she'd learned from her mother, there was one that always stood out, one that came to mind when evaluating others. "You're going to come across people in your life who say all the right words at all the right times. But in the end, it's always their actions you should judge them by. It's actions, not words, that matter."
