The Way to Texas

He wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but he didn’t ask. He’d learned long ago that when a woman was agitated, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. With or without a dead squirrel.

“So, I’m going to head upstairs and start making some marks on which walls are going to have to go. I hired a couple of local guys to help me, but they won’t be here until this afternoon.”

She’d already headed toward the rear of the house, but called to him as she ducked into her office. “I’m gonna pop some cinnamon rolls in the oven. We won’t have clients until 8:00 a.m. Bubba will be here shortly to move the boxes to the attic. I labeled them clearly with the area in which they should be stored. I’ll help when Margo gets here.”

He decided to forego the stairs and followed her to the kitchen. “Do you have any ground rules about noise? Because it’s going to get noisy at times. Nothing I can do about that.”

Dawn smiled. “I’ll have them turn their hearing aids down.”

He grinned. “Seriously.”

She shrugged before pulling open the refrigerator and taking out a tube of ready-to-bake pastries. “I don’t foresee a problem. They know there will be ongoing construction for the next few months. We’ll just do our best, but I would like to see something in place to prevent dust downstairs. Some of our clients have fragile health and I can’t imagine construction dust would be good for them.”

“I can handle that,” he said. “We’ll put plastic at the entrance to the stairs and I’ll place a fan in one of the windows to draw some of the dust particles outside.”

Dawn pulled out a pan and began unwinding the paper from the cinnamon rolls. Silence fell between them.

“Look, Dawn, about Saturday,” he began.

She waved a hand at him, but didn’t meet his eyes.

“Look, no big deal. It was a weird moment. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.”

He wasn’t sure they could. He’d learned long ago it was best to not ignore potential problems. Meeting head-on was the only smart solution.

“But it did happen. We can’t pretend there isn’t something between us,” he said, glancing out the window to where leaves floated to the ground on the breeze. Gold, red and orange danced across the yard, scudding against the yellowed grass.

She slid the pan into the oven and stood, straightening her spine like a soldier. Her brown eyes met his. They were guarded. “I can’t afford to—” she paused “—dabble with a man. I’ve made too many mistakes down that road lately. So I want to forget about Saturday. It’s easier for me that way.”

“Okay,” he said, catching a glimpse into her life. His own path had been much the same. Full of wrong turns and rocks in his shoe. “I agree with you. I don’t have room to screw up, either. I’ll sign divorce papers next month, and I need a fresh start with my daughter.”

He saw the questions lurking in the depths of her chocolate eyes. “You have a daughter?”

“Yeah, her name’s Laurel. She’s nearly fourteen. The divorce has been hard on her. Coming here to Oak Stand, a place where I spent my happiest times, is a new chapter for us. I hope.”

“I’m taking a break myself. And I’m looking for a new direction.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, as though showing her own vulnerability was wrong. He could see the mental shake of her head.

“Well, so we agree to ignore any, um, weird feelings? Keep everything business?”

He nodded. “But, let’s not call it business. Let’s agree to be friendly.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“With no physical contact. Friendship only. I could use another friend in this town. I didn’t actually grow up here. Spent mostly summers and an occasional year with my grandfather.”

She smiled. “I’m not local, either. And I could use another friend in this town, too. So sounds like we have a deal. But we won’t muck it up by shaking on it this time.”

Yeah. No touching. And just when his fingers wanted to curl around her upper arms and spin her toward him so they could finish what they’d started two days ago.

But it was over before it began.