Waking Up In Charleston

There was no mistaking the genuine dismay in his voice, so she guided him toward a chair. “Sit.”

A grin tugged at his lips. “Bossy, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” she said dryly. She might be out of practice, but she’d once excelled at getting things done to her satisfaction. It was a trait she’d learned at her daddy’s knee.

“Now, you listen to me, Caleb Webb,” she lectured sternly. “You’ve been the best friend this family has ever had, which is exactly why I want to show you some respect when you come here. Maybe in your world that means eating off paper plates and not going to any trouble, but in mine it means observing some of the niceties.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his eyes twinkling despite the meek tone.

She frowned at the interruption. “I might not be able to pour fine wine into crystal goblets in my house,” she continued. “I can’t serve you on bone china that came over from England a couple of centuries ago for my great-great-grandmother’s wedding, but I can at least treat mealtime as an occasion.”

His grin spread as she spoke. “Okay, then. Guess that means I ought to at least put my shirt back on.”

“You should,” she said, though not without regret. “And wash your hands.”

He snapped a salute and started toward the bathroom, then came back and dropped another one of those sneaky, sizzling little kisses on her mouth.

“Have I mentioned how adorable you are when you get up on your high horse?” he asked.

Her gaze narrowed. “That sounds suspiciously close to telling me I’m cute when I’m angry.”

He held up his hands. “Not a chance, darlin’. I know better than that. The last thing I want to do is set off World War III around here right before dinner. It’s bad for the digestion.”

She gave him a wry look. “I think the pizza will take care of that, especially if you ordered pepperoni, jalapeños and onions again.”

“Only on my half,” he reassured her.

Amanda shuddered. “Who would have thought a preacher would have a cast-iron stomach?”

He gave her an amused look. “Did you think we lived on oatmeal or something?”

“I think I always imagined you lived on Sunday dinners of fried chicken, peas, mashed potatoes and apple pie at some parishioner’s home. Beyond that, I guess I never gave it much thought. The burgers we consumed while we were building the house should have been a clue. You put jalapeños on those, too, didn’t you?”

“Every chance I got,” he told her. His gaze met hers, then held it. “What can I say? I like a little spice in my life.”

He’s talking about food, Amanda reminded herself sternly when he walked away, his lips twitching. He had to be. Preachers surely didn’t flirt so outrageously.

Or did they? How on earth was she supposed to know what preachers did? Caleb was the only one she’d ever known beyond the most casual greeting at some function or another. Amazingly, he suddenly struck her as someone who was all too eager to break a few rules, or at least to bend them.

Was she ready to do the same? She tried to imagine opening up her heart again and she couldn’t. Not even to a man as rock-solid and dependable as Caleb.

For one thing, it was becoming clear that under that steady, staid exterior beat the heart of a man capable of a few surprises, and Amanda had had all the surprises in life she could handle. She’d vowed on the day they’d put Bobby in his grave that she’d never risk another one, not for herself, not for her children.

For another, there was the whole independence thing. She still needed to prove to herself that she had what it took to make a success of her life, to give her children what they needed to become good people. Her father had been so sure she couldn’t do that, not with Bobby by her side and certainly not on her own.

She sighed at the thought. And wasn’t it ironic that even after all this time and all her disclaimers to the contrary, her father’s opinion still drove some of her decisions? Obviously she still had some work to do to claim that independence she prized so much.

4

As he dutifully washed his hands as ordered, Caleb thought about the twists and turns his life had taken. He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d fallen for Amanda with her chin-up pride and stubbornness and her sad, vulnerable eyes, but the knowledge of the attraction had been eating at him for a long time now. There were so many things wrong with it, he couldn’t begin to count them all.

She was a member of his church for one thing. For another, after her husband’s death, she’d needed his counseling and his comfort. He couldn’t do that objectively if his own emotions kept getting in the way.

And then there was Max. There were times when Caleb thought he’d made a deal with the devil when he’d agreed to Max’s scheme to help his daughter get out from under the mountain of debt she’d been left in after Bobby’s death. He’d known buying the land for her house anonymously was the only way Max could make himself reach out, but Caleb had done everything he knew how to do to convince the stubborn old coot to go about helping in a more straightforward way.

His entreaties had fallen on deaf ears, and now Caleb was burdened with this secret that stood squarely between him and Amanda. If she ever discovered what he’d been keeping from her, he doubted she’d forgive him. The animosity between her and Max ran too deep. She wouldn’t take kindly to the fact that Caleb had been in cahoots with him behind her back, even with the best intentions.

But despite the potential for heartache, Caleb couldn’t seem to stay away from this woman whose strength he’d come to admire. Nor could he seem to keep himself from stealing an occasional kiss, just as he had earlier. He knew it disconcerted Amanda. Heck, it disconcerted him. He wasn’t in the habit of tossing out innuendoes and hoping for a quick rise of color in a woman’s cheeks. In his own way, he was every bit as skittish about love and commitment as Amanda. He believed in it in the abstract. He preached about its importance in church and counseled couples on ways to make the love stronger in their marriages. But he doubted he’d ever take another chance on it himself.

All that sage advice and supposed wisdom hadn’t done a thing to keep his own marriage from crumbling. Feeling like a fraud after the divorce, he’d kept to himself, deftly avoiding all the attempts by friends and parishioners to do any matchmaking on his behalf. He’d cut back on premarital counseling, then seven years ago he’d changed churches to get away from all the reminders of his failed marriage and especially anything that reminded him of why it had fallen apart. He wasn’t sure he would ever come to terms with that.

Nor would he ever do anything that might lead to another devastating rejection. Watching his wife walk out on him over something that was beyond his control, losing her and, maybe worst of all, not really blaming her for her choice had nearly destroyed him. He’d been devastated, but so had his wife. He couldn’t bear hurting Amanda in the same way.

For a time he’d lived by one principle, guiding his congregation, offering solace when needed, but pretty much keeping everyone at arm’s length. When he’d gotten to know Amanda after Bobby’s death, he’d recognized a kindred spirit, a lost and wounded soul. And somehow his own resolve to remain uninvolved had melted. During the building of her house, he’d forged real friendships, just as she had.

Maybe it was because of Amanda herself or maybe it was because she had the family he’d always wanted for himself, but he’d gravitated to all of them and now couldn’t seem to make himself pull back. They represented his dream, the one he’d thought gone forever. In them he saw that hope for a warm and loving family in all its tempting glory. In many ways, though, it was still oh-so-sadly out of reach.

Aside from his own fears and reservations, the biggest obstacle to making this family a real part of his life was the way Amanda danced so skittishly away from him. As she had yet again tonight, she repeatedly told him what a wonderful friend he was, how lucky she was to have such a good friend come into her life when she needed one so desperately. He was growing weary of the word.

One of these days, she was going to start to utter it and he was going to cover her mouth with his just to silence her. This time it wouldn’t be one of these quick little pecks he was stealing, but a full-fledged, no-holds-barred kiss that he figured would pretty much destroy the whole friendship masquerade she was so determined to cling to. It would also end the illusion that he had tight control of his own emotions.

Of course, she might very well kick him to the curb in the process. That was the one thing that had made him keep his distance.

For now. And, if wisdom overcame need, forever.

Caleb walked back into the living room just as the pizza arrived. He had his wallet halfway out of his pocket when Amanda shot a warning look in his direction and grabbed her purse.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I lost my head there for a minute.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” she said, handing him the boxes of pizza, then turning to pay the delivery boy.

“Are the kids at the table?” he asked. “Or do I need to chase them down?”

“They have sensors when it comes to pizza delivery,” she assured him. “I’m sure they’re already on their way.”

Sure enough, all three of the children were seated at the kitchen table when Caleb arrived with the two pizza boxes. He’d wound up ordering two mediums, rather than a large, so there would be leftovers for the kids and Amanda tomorrow.

“I want pepperoni, jalapeños and onions, like Mr. Caleb,” Jimmy announced.

Amanda frowned at her towheaded son. “I don’t think so.”

“How come?”

“Remember last time?” she asked.

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. I hurled.”

“Exactly,” Amanda said. “You stick with the plain pizza. One slice.”