Boo (20 page)

“Okay.”

“Be yourself. We men think we know what women want us to act like, but in the end, it’s just plain old us that they fall in love with, as scary as that sounds.” The reverend stared into the sky as if collecting
the thoughts he had placed there. “And just relax. Have fun. Enjoy her company.”

Wolfe’s cheeks flushed at the thought of spending time alone with her. “I can do that.”

“Good. Is that what you’re wearing?”

Wolfe glanced down at his flannel shirt, faded jeans, and leather boots. “Uh … yeah.”

The reverend slapped him on the back. “Good. It’s perfect.”

The morning hours passed slowly for Ainsley. She and her father avoided each other as if they each carried the flu bug. It hurt Ainsley to be in this turmoil with her father, yet she had to stand her ground. It was time she lived her own life. Her aunt would want this, and so would her mother.

She knew where her father’s protectiveness came from, and respected him for it … loved him for it. For most of her life he’d been her father
and
mother, a protector yet a surrogate. And though now it suffocated her to no end, she had to admit that she depended on a certain part of it to make her life safe. She shook her head at the thought of her lunch with Wolfe. This was definitely not “safe.” Her emotions, heart, and mind all seemed to be speaking a different language.

After thirty minutes inside her closet, she emerged with a long silk skirt with muted florals that matched a wonderfully soft cotton turtleneck. She chose her dark leather boots and decided to pull her hair back away from her face, but not put it on top of her head. She clipped it back and let a few loose locks hang around her cheeks.

Glancing in her vanity mirror, she noticed Thief had come in through the cat door her father had insisted on. He felt like such an intrusion, and she frowned at him as he hopped onto her bed and observed.

She turned her attention back to her tasks, waffling over whether to wear makeup. She finally chose a soft blush, a neutral eye shadow, and clear lip gloss. She stared at herself when she was finished. She actually looked like a sophisticated woman.

Her eyes lingered on her perfume bottle. It was actually her mother’s, a rare scent from Asia that her father had brought home after the war, years before Ainsley was born. Her mother only wore it on special occasions, and after all these years half the bottle remained. She clicked her tongue, trying to decide. Maybe just a little on her wrists. Or perhaps at the nape of her neck, too.

She folded her arms and sat down heavily on the stool in front of her vanity, blowing out air as she thought this through. She imagined Marlee laughing at her, and she scolded herself for being so conflicted over a little perfume. Still, was this an appropriate time to wear it? She’d never worn it in public, though occasionally after her evening shower she would put a little on, mostly because it reminded her of her mother.

“Forget it,” she mumbled, discouraged by the thought of how long it took her to decide
not to
wear any. Taking in a view of herself from all angles, she decided there was nothing more she could do but go downstairs to wait.

She passed the time by making her list of people to invite for Thanksgiving, but after that, it still left her with fifteen minutes to wait. To her relief, her father had left the house an hour earlier. She’d had visions of him sitting on the front porch cleaning his shotgun when Wolfe pulled up to get her.

She was cleaning the kitchen counters when she heard a car door shut. Her heart stopped. It was time. He was here! A little early, but better early than late. She checked her hair in the oven door, smoothed her skirt, and fanned herself to try to keep the perspiration from dampening her freshly powdered skin.

Her heart started beating a little more normally, and she stood in the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter. She closed her eyes, smiled, and waited for the knock. A few seconds later it came, and Ainsley turned to the front door, said a prayer for peace, and then went to answer it, as excited as she had ever been.

Wolfe stood, slightly amused and slightly bewildered, as the reverend rambled on about how to treat a woman. He’d assumed the man was an expert on all things spiritual, but the reverend’s godly passion for women came as a surprise.

In the minutes that passed, Wolfe learned about the reverend’s wife, who had died many years earlier. But the reverend still glowed in the face when he talked about her and told in great detail of how he had won over her heart.

Wolfe glanced at his watch, trying not to be too obvious. He wanted neither to make a bad first impression on Ainsley nor to be rude to Reverend Peck. The advice was good, the timing … bad.

“And you see,” the reverend was saying, “it’s hard to understand a woman. They seem fickle, and yet they are such deep, feeling creatures, moved by things men are hardly aware of. They’re notorious for being chatterboxes and jumping from one topic to another, but in their minds it all makes sense, and if you concentrate hard enough, it will make sense to you too. It’s because they’re emotional, and—”

“Um, Reverend?”

“Yes?”

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time.”

“For …?”

“To go get Ainsley.”

“Oh!” He grabbed Wolfe’s shoulder. “And they hate it when we’re late!”

Wolfe glanced at his watch again, gulping back the realization that he didn’t have quite as much time as he thought. “I better get going.”

The reverend looked him in the eyes. “She’s a lucky girl to have a man like you taking her out.”

Wolfe’s anxiety morphed into surprise. He hadn’t ever thought of it that way, but it sure felt good to hear.

“Good luck,” the reverend said, waving him off. Wolfe walked around the corner of the church, where the wind picked up, its chill
flushing his cheeks. Thank goodness it was cold. He needed something to explain the flush that would be there in spite of the wind.

“Red roses. Your favorite.”

Ainsley’s jaw dropped five inches as she stared at the caller on her doorstep. “What are you
doing here
?”

“What does it look like?” Garth asked, shaking the flowers as if she hadn’t noticed them. “There’s a dozen here, all freshly cut, wrapped in a bouquet, just the way you like ’em. And I don’t have to tell you, a dozen red roses ain’t cheap.”

Ainsley closed her eyes and shook her head, hoping she was just imagining this. But he was still there when she opened her eyes, grinning and gawking like the buffoon he was. “Why are you bringing me flowers?”

Garth stepped inside uninvited, and he quickly scoped the rooms as if looking for something. He followed Ainsley to the kitchen. “Well, if I remember correctly, my pumpkin, we didn’t get a chance to finish our date the other night, with your aunt’s untimely death and all, so I figured it’s a nice day, a little cold, but a nice day, and I can keep you warm in a blizzard, honey, so we don’t have to worry about that.”

Ainsley’s eyes darted to the clock in the kitchen.
Please, Wolfe, be late! She
turned to Garth, trying to play it cool. The last thing she wanted was for Garth to suspect anything. He had a horrible way of sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong.

“The flowers are nice,” she said, reaching under the cabinet for a vase. She filled it with water and took the flowers from him, tore off the paper, and dunked the stems into the vase with little care. “But I can’t do anything today, Garth. You really should call first, you know.”

“What could you be doing on a Saturday afternoon?” he said, leaning against the counter and grinning at her as though his smile just might change her life.

She stared hard at him. “Garth, it’s none of your business what I
do.” She tried to soften her expression as best she could. “The flowers are lovely. You’re right, I love roses. But I’m just going to have to ask you to leave now.”

His expression turned awkwardly concerned, and Ainsley sensed there was something more going on behind those innocent-looking eyes than she realized. “Is that any way to treat a man who just spent forty bucks on roses for you?”

“First of all,” Ainsley retorted, “everyone knows your cousin works for the flower shop and you get all your roses half off.” Garth’s expression proved the accusation true. “Second of all, Garth, you must know that a lady likes time to prepare for such things, and that your just coming over unannounced isn’t proper.”

Garth shifted to lean against the wall opposite the kitchen counter, with his arms crossed against his chest and his legs crossed at the ankle. “You look ready to me. In fact, is that lipstick you’re wearing, Ainsley Parker?”

“Lip gloss,” Ainsley said defensively.

“Does your father know about that?”

“Garth!” Just saying his name with such sharpness took her breath away. “I am a grown woman, if you haven’t noticed, and I’m perfectly capable of making decisions on my own. Sometimes I am
sure
the two of you came from the same gene!”

Garth smirked, which made Ainsley even angrier. He had something up his sleeve, and it was eating at her that she couldn’t figure it out. Usually he was so transparent.

Knock, knock
.

Ainsley whirled to the door, irritated to notice Garth still staring at her, his smirk even more prominent. “Expecting someone?” he asked.

Ainsley took a deep breath. How was she going to handle
this?
All her daydreaming about going to the door when Wolfe arrived had been shattered by Garth. She glared at him, though now he was looking toward the door.

Knock, knock
.

“Want me to get it?” he asked, pitching a thumb toward the direction of the door.

“No, Garth, I don’t,” she snapped, marching past him. She glanced back once, hoping he’d disappear into the floral wallpaper, a literal wallflower, but he was still there, eyes wide with anticipation.

She opened the door.

“Hi,” Wolfe said, smiling. For the first time she noticed he had dimples. They were long and lean, reaching from the middle of his cheek to below his chin.

“Hi there,” she said, managing the most relaxed smile she could. But she realized she wasn’t doing very well when his expression turned to worry.

“Is everything okay? Am I late?”

“You’re right on time.” Ainsley realized she had no choice but to invite him in and hope Garth got a clue and left. “Come on in.”

She escorted him through the door and down the small hallway that led right to the kitchen, where Garth was now standing by the vase of flowers he’d brought in. She watched as Wolfe regarded him with surprise.

“Hi,” Wolfe said, glancing at Ainsley.

“Wolfe, this is Garth Twyne. Garth, Wolfe Boone.”

“Well, if it ain’t the town celebrity!” Garth drawled, holding out a hand for Wolfe to shake. “And I don’t mean the whole Thief incident.”

“Nice to meet you,” Wolfe replied, shaking his hand but still looking perplexed. Ainsley cleared her throat.

“Garth stopped by for a moment and was just leaving,” Ainsley said.

“To bring her flowers,” Garth added, pointing to the obvious bouquet sitting on the counter. “She likes roses—long-stemmed.”