Home for Love (An Adult Contemporary Romance) (7 page)

“Is it always this busy?” she inquired.

“We have our good days and our crazy
days,” replied Todd. “Today was one of the crazy ones. Supplies have been
running a bit low with the storm and what Paula can’t get for folk; we get for
them, couriering from Fairbanks and other towns that have supplies.”

 “It’s a good business,” Todd continued,
“we can only do the well-paying adventure tours in summer when the tourists
throng here but in winter, this is our staple. And we provide a much needed
service so that feels good too. An added benefit you could say.”

“Thanks for helping out, Bree.”

“My pleasure,” she smiled back at him.
“Now, I gotta get home. They must be worried.”

“They’re okay,” reassured Todd. “I
called them just before night hit. I remember how your granddad fretted when
you drove to the farm in the dark. I reassured him that I’d follow you back. In
fact, I’ll spend some time with Amber and if it’s okay with you, bunk there for
the night.”

“Uh, sure,” Bree responded
automatically, good manners having been ingrained into her DNA. “Amber will
love that.”

“I doubt we’ll get any more calls as it
is way after closing time.” Todd got up to go around the office and began to
prepare to call it a night. “Let me just grab my stuff and we can be off.”

“Darn it,” Bree said in exasperation. “I
forgot about Gran’s order from Paula.”

“No hassles,” Todd waved her concerns
away. “I’ll grab it tomorrow and bring it around after work. I’ll be coming to
see Amber anyway.”

“Great,” Bree smiled. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Todd smiled back. “Now
let’s go.”

A few days later Bree found herself
heading for the local hardware store. Her grandfather had begun preparing the
soil in his hothouses to be ready for spring planting. It was still a while
away but he swore that the soil needed to be nurtured and treated so that it
could yield a better harvest. Not having much of a green thumb, she was happy
to leave those details to him. Amber on the other hand, was looking forward to
digging in the dirt and of course, having a license to look dirty went down
pretty fine too. Fortunately, the local hardware store carried just about
anything needed on a farm in small quantities and knowing her grandfather and
his habits, they would’ve pre-ordered what he needed in time.

The musty smell of wood hit her first, then
the sharp smell of paint and the unique iron-tinged smell of metal. Sitting
behind the counter was Mrs. Stewart, a constant in the community that went back
to when her grandparents were kids. Mrs. Stewart claimed that the pure,
unpolluted Alaskan air contributed to her amazing ninety-odd years on the
earth.

“Hi Mrs. Stewart,” she called out,
although she was right at the counter, Mrs. Stewart on the other side. The tiny
woman sporting an unmoving cap of grey hair and hand-woven cardigan, sat
knitting and grumbling to herself about winter bugs. “Mrs. Stewart,” Bree
repeated, louder.

Mrs. Stewart looked up with a start
before her face split into a broad smile. “Bree, how nice to see you, dear.”

After exchanging some pleasantries, Bree
inquired, “Is Mr. Stewart around? I’ve come to pick up the hothouse supplies
for my granddad.”

“Oh, no dear,” Mrs. Stewart answered,
baffled. “I’m afraid that John’s down with a bug. I sent him home when I called
this morning and he was barking like a dog. He wouldn’t hear of closing the
shop so I said that I’d sit here. Everyone knows the shop and us so they can
just get what they want when they come in. It took some arm-twisting, but he
gave in. He didn’t listen to me when he was sick as a boy and he doesn’t listen
as a grown man. But, you know what kids are like.”

“I sure do, Mrs. Stewart. My Amber’s the
same. But, she just loves the outdoors here.”

“Yes,” nodded Mrs. Stewart, needles
clicking between syllables. “The Alaskan air is the purest you’ll find
anywhere. It keeps you younger and living longer.”

“Sure is,” nodded Bree. Bree stood a
moment, her head tilted in contemplation. “Would you happen to know where Mr.
Stewart keeps the hothouse supplies?”

“Well as your granddad is one of the few
that asks for it, I know it’s not in the main part of the store,” responded
Mrs. Stewart. “Why don’t you go look out back. It should be in the store room.
That manure sure does stink, so it won’t be kept in there.” Mrs. Stewart
pointed to the storage room leading off from the inside of the store.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Bree
nodded relieved to be getting the stuff. She didn’t know who would sulk more -
Amber or her granddad - if she didn’t take their ‘dirt’ back to the farm.

The storage area was really an oversized
shed located behind the store amongst many other bits of rubble and scrap
material dotting the thinning snow in a haphazard manner; as though they’d been
thrown there and forgotten. It wasn’t a sight that melded with the crisp, clean
feel of the snow nor was it a sight, she imagined, that the neighbors across
from it cherished.

With a creek, the door gave way and she
was met with the dank smell of stale air and pitch darkness. Fumbling around on
the inside wall near the door, she finally located a light switch and flipped
it. In contrast to the outside, the shed was neatly kept. Rows of shelves lined
half of it holding various machine parts and larger tools. The other side
showcased general farming material, which was where she’d probably find her
granddad’s ‘dirt’. Determined, despite the heebie-jeebies the place gave her,
she proceeded inwards. This place must be the perfect hide-out for bugs; warm,
dark, and safe from the elements.

She heard a squeak, let out a screech,
and jumped onto the nearest high surface, which unfortunately turned out to be
a slippery bag of something. She lost her balance and landed on her side on the
dirt-covered floor.

“Are you alright?” A familiar voice
asked. Trust Todd to show when she least expected it.

“Ah, sure,” Bree blushed with
embarrassment. “I thought it was a nasty.”

“Ah,” Todd’s face split into a grin,
“still scared of bugs, huh? And you’re still calling them ‘nasties’.”

Bree narrowed her eyes at him, “And
you’re still so smug about it.” Bree thought she heard another scuttle and
slowly, elegantly climbed up on the nearest, non-slippery surface.

Her response and climb was evidently
hilarious to Todd because he broke into guffaws that had him gripping his
stomach as tears streamed down his face.

“You’re being a jackass, Todd.” Bree’s
voice dripped with venom, her eyes narrowed on a guy that knew her too well
under certain circumstances. When that just made him laugh harder, she cut
through it in frustration, “Well for Pete’s sake. Stop laughing like an idiot
and help me look for granddad’s dirt.”

Well that got his attention she thought.
Todd wiped his eyes and stood up straight, his lips curved broadly. “Sorry,
honey,” he apologized, “I needed a good laugh.”

“Well I’m glad I could offer you your
daily dose of comedy,” Bree replied disdainfully. “Now will you help before I
kill you?”

“I always liked it when you got all
prissy with me, honey,” Todd retorted. “It got the juices stirred up all good.”

“Todd…” Bree warned.

“Okay, okay,” Todd held up his hands as
a sign of a truce. “What’s your granddad’s dirt look like.”

Bree rattled off the names her granddad
had given her and watched Todd scratch around and locate the bags of mature,
plant food, and organic pesticides. When he’d stacked them all by the door of
the shed, he went to her and held out his hand. “Coming?” he asked.

Watching him carry the goods, as corny
as it seemed, had been quite a turn-on; there was something quintessentially
hot about a man who quietly and confidently went about his business. Oh, I’d
like to be coming, she thought, and then shook her head, mentally reproaching
herself for her lapse in judgment.

She took his hand and felt somewhat
safer walking towards the door. With relief, she reached for the doorknob and
turned. Rattling it, she turned back to Todd, who was bent over the bags and
about to heft them over his shoulders. Darn but if that sight didn’t send
tingles to her nether regions. And yet another sign, she mentally acknowledged,
that she had to leave the shed.

Rattling the doorknob again, she spoke
to Todd without risking another look. “Todd, I think the door’s stuck.”

“Can’t be,” he said, “Mr. Stewart may be
getting on in years, but he’d never allow a stuck door situation.”

“Huh,” Bree looked at him puzzled.
“Okay, regardless of Mr. Stewart’s handyman principles and practices, this darn
door is stuck. Come see for yourself,” she indicated the door with a sweep of
her hand and stepped away - but not too far into the shed.

Todd tried the doorknob and also did a
fair bit of rattling. “It’s not stuck,” he said, “it’s locked.”

“Locked?” she questioned. “Why on earth
would it be locked? It wasn’t locked before.”

“How would I know why it wasn’t locked,”
he bit out irritatingly. “I just know that it’s locked now.”

“I can’t stay in here, Todd,” Bree felt
panicked.

“Let’s just call Mrs. Stewart and ask
her to open for us,” he offered.

“She’s losing her hearing, Todd I doubt
she’d hear us.”

“I meant your phone. Call her on it.”

“I don’t have my phone,” Amber stated.
“I left it on the counter in my handbag. Use yours.”

“I don’t have mine either,” Todd
replied. “I came over quickly when Mrs. Stewart called to ask me to help you
with the bags. Said that Mr. Stewart was at home sick and that she didn’t feel
right having you carry them all by yourself.”

“Well aren’t you just the knight in
shining armor,” Bree’s sarcasm was thick. “So, Mr. Knight, get us out of here.”

“I would if I could, Bree,” he
responded. “In fact, I probably could if you’d stop nagging long enough so I
could think.”

“Fine,” she huffed, sitting on top of
the bags of her granddad’s dirt, closest to the door. “Think away, Einstein.”

Steaming with irritation, she watched
Todd under veiled lids as he went around the room, inspecting it for a way out.

“You won’t believe this,” he came
towards her, “but there aren’t any windows either.”

“So, we’re stuck here?”

“Looks like,” he nodded, sitting next to
her on a neighboring stack of bags.

“Todd,” she said, worried, “it’s not a
good idea to be stuck during winter.”

“I know, Bree. I’m hoping that the kids
across the road will come by sometime or your granddad will realize we’re
missing and come find us.”

Bree nodded bleakly. “Don’t you think
that Mrs. Stewart would remember?”

“Maybe,” Todd replied, “but she’s been
losing her memory lately. too.”

“The poor darling,” Bree stated
sincerely. “It must be hard to change in that way, especially after having been
such a strong, vital woman.”

Todd considered then shook his head.
“Oh, I reckon that she’s still as strong, as vital, just in a different way.”

Bree’s lips curved in appreciation for
his sensitivity. “That’s a sweet thing to say.”

“I have my moments,” Todd answered,
looking down at her, his lips curved in response.

“Do you remember when we were stuck in
the janitor’s room at school?” Todd asked, trying to prod her mind away from
her fears.

Bree smiled at the recollection. “Yes.
The end of senior year - your hockey buddies decided that we needed a bit of
privacy. That was quite a fascinating study of janitorial equipment.”

Todd looked down at his crotch, “Is that
what you call it?”

Bree laughed and nudged him in the ribs.
“That was fun. They thought we’d come out fuming instead we’d looked like we’d
a blast.”

“Yep,” Todd said, the smile dying,
sincerity replacing it, “We always had a good time as long as we had each
other.”

“And we didn’t inspect your equipment,
as I recall,” Bree reminded him. “We got to second base and then found the
janitor’s comic stash, his radio and all sorts of second home items. It looked
like he lived in there whenever he could catch a break.”

“I remember,” Todd smiled. “That was the
best time of my life until you brought Amber into it. Now, I’m having the best
time of my life.”

The surety in his voice as he made that
statement brought tears to Bree’s eyes. She found that she was relieved that he
felt that way, touched that he, despite the way his daughter had come into his
life, had put all possible nasty feelings aside, and focused on what was
needed. In this case, it was pure fatherly love.

“Thank you for that, Todd,” Bree looked
at him through misty eyes. “It means a lot to me that you’ve grown so close.”

“That’s the easy part,” he replied,
“loving the way a parent should. Although I’ve missed most of her life thus
far, I’m really glad you came home, Bree.” A tear slid down her cheek and he
gently wiped it away. “Thank you.”

“Ditto, hun,” she responded drawing a
grin from him, one that spoke of people who shared instinctively. She’d loved
the movie, Ghost, and had made him watch it over and over. The most romantic
line in that movie had been “ditto," Patrick Swayze’s response to “I love
you” and they’d used it often with each other.

Feeling encouraged, Todd, took her chin
in his hands, and tilted her face upwards, looking at it with a mix of familiarity
and re-acquaintance. “I remember how beautiful you were.” His voice was thick,
husky, and prickled her insides. “You’re more beautiful now,” he said, before
swooping down for a kiss. Like before, the kiss was tentative, slowly savoring
instead of devouring. Like rediscovering a favorite childhood candy in
adulthood and relishing in the taste,  and texture.

Bree moaned and leaned into the kiss,
her body twisting towards him, her hands first slack at her sides then snaking
along to glide up his well-formed chest. She heard his sharp intake of oxygen
when she tweaked his nipples, the way he liked it. Smiling against his mouth,
lost in memories of the past, she moved around, not breaking the kiss, and
straddled him. His body had filled out, muscled-up but it still felt the same,
felt just right. Just as his hands did, alternating between kneading and
cupping her bottom.

The kiss grew hotter, headier and they
began devouring, replenishing their suppressed, mutual thirst. Todd’s hands
moved away from her bottom and inched up, discovering her warm flesh under the
layers of clothing. Bree began moving against him, gently urged by his hands at
the small of her back, giving into the kiss as desire overtook them both,
sending them into that mindless abyss that only true lust can create.