Western Pleasure (The Texas Two-Step Series, a Novella) (3 page)

"Here you go." Ellen switched bulbs with him, then placed the bad one on the nearby kitchen table. Glancing at the table gave her an idea. Although Jim had been to dinner at her place before, family, and more particularly, Davis, had always been there, too. Maybe Davis would be willing to play three's a crowd in exchange for a home-cooked meal? "Jim Turner is coming to dinner on Friday night. I'm making your favorite, lasagna. Any chance you could join us?"

"Sorry, Mom. I've got plans that night. But be sure to tell Jim I said hey."

Rats. That would have solved her was-it-a-date issue. "Do you have a hot date?"

Davis unscrewed another bulb. "I'm not sure how hot, but yes, I have a date that night."

"Is she a nice girl? Someone I'll meet?"

Davis squirmed on the ladder. "Hand me up a new bulb?"

Ellen did as he requested, fully aware he'd deliberately not answered her question. When would he settle down? "I'm looking forward to the day you find Miss Right, Davis. I hope it'll be sooner rather than later."

"I'm looking, Mom, but so far she hasn't found me."

Ellen grinned. Considering the number of women who chased after her son, eventually the right woman would stake her claim on him. It was only a matter of when, and she'd just bide her time until the moment arrived.

She wondered if there was someone else she could invite to join her and Jim for dinner without it seeming peculiar to Jim. She didn't think Lily would be willing to play third wheel, at least not without a tremendous amount of begging. And Ellen wasn't willing to do that—yet.

She was being silly, though. Jim probably thought nothing about coming to dinner. There was nothing especially date-like about her invitation. Except that it had felt date-like to her.

Her gaze settled on the obsolete laptop perched on the kitchen bar.

She needed to concentrate on getting a new computer.

She opened her mouth to ask Davis for his help as he climbed down the ladder, but he said, "I'm done. Sorry to rush, Mom, but I have to get to the office. Things have been crazy there lately."

She hadn't noticed it before, but he looked tired. And yet he'd taken time out of his already too-busy schedule to help her with the lights.

He was such a good boy, and he'd helped her so much already. She'd find someone else to help her purchase a laptop.

Chapter 4

Ellen dropped a pan for the third time that evening as she prepared dinner for Jim. The skillet rattled into the kitchen sink, thank goodness, and didn't splatter the contents.

The whole situation had her as nervous as a teenaged girl on her first date. Could any schoolgirl with a crush be any more klutzy? Tonight brought to mind her nervousness before her first-ever date, but maybe that was because it had been so many years since she'd been on a date, and it had been with Ben.

A dollop of guilt ate at her. But Ben would have wanted her to move on with her life. A bigger dollop gnawed at her because she was so excited and nervous. Would Ben be upset that the date in question was one of his closest friends?

But no matter how much guilt, how many nerves, an inner excitement mixed with fear permeated her body and had her fingers trembling. She shoved the pan laden with lasagna noodles and cheese into the oven and set the timer.

Time to get dressed for the evening ahead.

Ellen had fought the urge to buy something new to wear, although the temptation had been strong. Jim didn't even know tonight
was
a date, so acting otherwise would be foolish. After a quick shower and a blow-dry of her hair, she headed to her closet and sifted through her clothes. Where was the pretty pink shirt she'd bought last summer?

At last she pulled the pretty top from the clothing rod. Now she needed either pants or a skirt. Would a skirt seem too flirty? Despite her age, Ellen was still quite proud of her legs, thanks to her exercise class, so a skirt would make her feel confident for the night ahead. At least she'd look good while making a total idiot of herself.

Her hand closed on a hanger holding a pretty print skirt. It would be perfect. Not too dressy and not too casual. Just above the knee and just right for dinner with a friend. Or even a date.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell chimed.

All the blood rushed to Ellen's face and her heart beat up a storm. She rubbed her hands down her skirt in an attempt to calm herself, then opened the door.

Jim stood on her doorstep dressed in the jeans she was more used to him wearing, but looking every bit as handsome as he'd looked at the charity dinner. "Come on in."

Jim nodded and stepped inside.

When she closed the door behind him, he said, "You look wonderful tonight, Ellen."

Yes, she'd wanted him to think that, but she hadn't expected her stomach to make loopedy-loops. "Thanks, come on back to the kitchen. Dinner is almost ready."

"It sure smells good. Is that the heavenly scent of garlic?" he asked as they walked the short hallway to her open-concept kitchen, dining and family room.

"I hope lasagna is okay with you."

"It's better than okay. You make the best Italian food I've ever had the pleasure of eating."

"Thanks." Ellen had set the eat-in kitchen table, rather than the more formal dining room. She nodded at the table. "Have a seat. Would you like a glass of Chianti?"

"That would be great, thanks."

Ellen poured them each a glass, trying hard to keep her shaking hand from spilling the wine. She made it through the task.

Jim raised his glass in a toast. "To you."

"And to you," she said, taking a sip of her wine with the hope the soothing warmth of it would calm her jangling nerves. Nope. She took another sip. Didn't do the trick. "Let me dish up our dinner, and then I'll show you the new oil lease."

Jim nodded, but looked anywhere except at her. What was that about?

It didn't help make her hands any steadier, that was for sure.

After eating what had to be the most formal of informal dinners, with each of them only speaking on safe topics like the weather and whether the Cowboys would do well in the upcoming football season, Ellen motioned for Jim to join her in the family room. "I'll go get the lease."

"What about the dishes?"

"I can do them later."

"No sense putting off what you can do right now. If you wash, I'll dry."

Ellen bit her lip. She didn't want him standing that close to her at the sink. Would it make her nerves even worse? Or worse yet, would it make her even more attracted to him? "I was planning to put them in the dishwasher."

"Then let me help you with that." Jim stood and took their plates from the table over to the sink, leaving Ellen with little choice but to join him.

As she approached him, no, the sink—she was approaching the sink—the heat from his body was palpable. And she realized what she wanted more than anything was to step into his arms and place her head on his shoulder. She was a total basket case. There was no other conclusion she could draw.

Jim's gaze met her own, and for a second she thought he might pull her into his arms, just as she wished he would. For another second she thought he might kiss her. But he turned back to the sink and turned on the faucet, dashing her hopes.

She was being silly again. Jim was her friend, nothing more, nothing less. And while she was deeply attracted to him, she didn't want to lose what they already had. If he knew she was crushing on him, would he stay away? Would he be appalled or angry?

She didn't know. She merely knew she would be horribly upset if their friendship ended entirely. And she wasn't about to risk that for some crush or hormones or wayward libido.

She and Jim made short work of the dishes, occasionally brushing hands or leaning in too close to each other, sending her pulse soaring. It wasn't easy, but she got through it.

It wasn't easy at all, especially when Jim smiled at her like he really enjoyed doing dishes by her side... right next to the dishwasher.

How did he make washing dishes so... intimate?

"Done," she said, stepping back from the sink and to the kitchen island. She pulled out plastic wrap and began wrapping up the leftovers.

"That was fun." Jim joined her at the island. "I don't often get a home-cooked meal, and I'd forgotten how much I enjoy the usual household tasks like doing the dishes and storing the leftovers."

"I'm wrapping some of this for you to take home with you tonight. You can zap it in the microwave, then have the pleasure of doing more dishes tomorrow."

Jim laughed. "I'll take you up on your offer, but I suspect doing dishes without you by my side won't be nearly as enjoyable."

"I'm afraid you'll have to deal with it." Ellen turned to put the leftovers in her refrigerator at the far side of her kitchen. "We'll both have to remember to get these out of the fridge when you leave tonight."

When she turned back, she saw that Jim had poured them each a new glass of Chianti. "Thanks."

"It'll make looking at the lease a lot more fun, I'm sure."

Ellen led him to the family room where they each took a seat on a recliner positioned directly in front of her TV set.

Jim set his glass on the small table between their recliners. "Now this is the life."

"You can't convince me you don't settle down at night to watch a little TV before bed."

"Oh, I do. But your home is a lot more comfortable than my downtown loft. And a lot less lonely."

"Tell me about lonely. It's really quiet here in the evenings, so sometimes I turn on the TV even when I have no intention of actually watching it." Ellen shrugged.

"I didn't know anyone else did that, but I do it, too. My loft is like a great big canyon and the sound of silence bounces off the four walls." He grew silent. "Maybe we should do this more often, Ellen?"

Her heart thumped in her chest. What was he asking? Surely he didn't mean anything more by it than what he said, that he was lonely sometimes and so was she. "That's a great idea, but only if you continue helping with the dishes."

"Done. Especially if you throw in one of your famous red velvet cupcakes."

He knew her too well. She definitely had dessert ready and waiting for them. "You've got it."

Just because she agreed to more dinners together, didn't mean either he or she really meant it. There was nothing here to make her believe he had anything on his mind except food and company. Nothing here to make her read anything more into his statement than companionship.

The saying about the way to a man's heart was through his stomach apparently wasn't an old wives tale. Ellen wasn't sure about Jim's heart per se, but he certainly was interested in her cooking. Would he be so complimentary if he knew she had begun thinking of him romantically? Heaven knew, if he were romantically interested in her, he'd had plenty of time and plenty of years to let her know. It was foolish of her to think otherwise. She knew he was never at a loss for a date. Back when Ben had been alive, they'd been on plenty of double dates with Jim. Clearly he knew how to ask a woman out if he were so inclined, and he'd never asked her out.

Perhaps they had too much history. Perhaps he wanted to honor her husband's memory. Perhaps he wasn't in the least bit attracted to her.

As the self-doubt settled in, Ellen reassessed the situation. Maybe she'd be better off concentrating her efforts on finding a man who
would
be interested in dating
her
. "Speaking of cupcakes, are you ready for one while you go over the lease?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Jim lifted the paperwork from the end table and began reading.

Two cupcakes and a land lease later, Ellen said, "Thank you so much for all of your help."

"Is there anything else you need my help with before I go?" Jim asked.

She did need help with one thing—and Jim would know exactly what she should do. "As a matter of fact, I'm interested in buying a new laptop computer. I thought maybe one of those fruity ones, but I wasn't sure. Do you know anything about them?"

"Fruity ones? You mean an Apple?"