Taking on Twins (13 page)

“I can't believe you'd even speak to him, after what he did to you.”

As they'd done every Monday morning at ten since Annie could remember, they were in her antique store sharing a cup of coffee and a small bag of donuts. This morning it was soft, warm maple bars, gooey with frosting and baked an hour ago at the bakery across the street. They had the place to themselves as it was still a bit early for the tourist crowd to begin filtering in and the boys were in preschool until noon.

“He didn't
do
anything to me. It was simply a misunderstanding.”

Donut poised at her lips, Brynn stared at her sister. “Since when?”

“He explained everything. And, now out from under the stress of Daddy's illness, I can see that I jumped to conclusions. Conclusions that made it less painful to stay home and run the business. The girl in his shower was a study partner. Nothing more.”

“And you believe that?”

“What reason would he have to lie to me now? It's not like we're still dating or anything.”

Brynn waved her mug under Annie's nose. “Hello? Wake up. Smell the coffee. He just
happens
to be here in Keyhole of all places and decides to look you up? He's got some kind of motive.”

“As a matter of fact, he does. His sister lives here now.”

“You're kidding. Here? In Keyhole? Well, now there's a happy accident.” Clearly, Brynn was skeptical.

“It's not that hard to believe, Brynn. His foster father grew up down the road in Nettle Creek. He wanted to visit some family and, since I lived here too, he stopped by. And
I'm really glad he did.” Annie broke off a piece of her donut and fed it to the salivating Chopper.

Brynn's heavy, world-weary sigh amused Annie. “Annie, I just hate to see you get hurt again. Your marriage to Carl left you with a broken heart.”

“Who said anything about marriage? Besides, he's different now.”

“How?”

“I don't know. More mature.”

“Which is just another way of saying he's pruney and gray.”

Annie laughed at her sister's puckered expression. “He is not.”

Brynn grinned and laughed too. “Okay. He's not gray because he's bald.”

“Hey now, he looks great in those Bermuda shorts and black socks. His wing tips are new and very shiny.”

“Eeewww!” Brynn hooted. “He sounds just like Dad. Does he have big old bushy eyebrows, too?”

“Why don't you judge for yourself? Here he comes now.” Through her front window Annie watched Wyatt come out of the Mi-Ti-Fine Café and instinctively knew he'd just dropped Emma off at work and was coming to spend the morning here in the shop.

“No thanks. I'm gonna skedaddle. I have a house to show. Besides, if you want to make a mess of your life, that's your busin—” Brynn's head swiveled and she followed Annie's gaze with her own “—esssss. Oh, my,” she murmured, as Wyatt strode toward the store. “I'd forgotten how cute he was. He looks just the same. Better even.”

“I told ya so,” Annie sang under her breath.

“No wonder you're all gaga over him.”

“Would you shut up? I'm not ‘all gaga.'”

“You must be. How could you not be? You're only human. I hear wedding bells.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“Don't let him get away.”

“Hey, weren't you the one, not five minutes ago, telling me to wake up and smell the coffee?”

“That was then.” Brynn tucked in her blouse and inspected her teeth with her tongue for stray bits of donut. “Back when he had Bermuda shorts and a bumper crop of ear hair.”

The front door opened, and there stood Wyatt.

“Wyatt!” Brynn gushed.

“Brynn? Is that you?”

Brynn fell all over herself as she stood and attempted to smooth the wild coils of her distinctive Summers hair. “Long time, no see!” She twittered like MaryPat and held her hand out in a most coquettish manner.

Annie rolled her eyes. Where was her freedom fighter when she needed her? She'd been counting on Brynn and MaryPat to shake some sense into her when it came to Wyatt. Instead, it seemed she was the one who might end up having to do some shaking.

Annie looked on as Wyatt ignored Brynn's hand and pulled her into his embrace. The soft flannel of the plaid shirt he wore muffled Brynn's breathless giggle and she seemed positively dwarfed by his solid build. After he rocked her back and forth for a moment, he set her away from him and looked her over.

“Tin-grin Brynn! Last time I saw you was back when I was in college and I came to Keyhole for Christmas. You had braces on your teeth. And now look at this smile. Nearly as beautiful as your big sister's.”

“Oh, stop.” Blushing, Brynn batted at his arm.

Annie rubbed her temples. For the love of Pete. Was
there a single member of her family that didn't lose all sight of reality the moment Wyatt walked into the room? She motioned to the door. “Brynn, don't you have to be going?”

“In a minute.” Eyes as glazed as the maple bar she'd abandoned, Brynn stared up at Wyatt. “So, I hear your Dad grew up not far from Keyhole and you have family in the area. Isn't that a co-inky-dink? Does this mean you'll be visiting Wyoming more often?”

“I'm hopeful.” He shot a meaningful glance at Annie.

“Brynn, don't you have a house to show?”

“Yes, yes, whatever.”

“So Annie tells me you're in real estate now.”

“Mm-hum.” Brynn wrapped a ginger coil of her hair around her finger and cast a sly glance at her sister. “I'd be happy to show you around, if you decide for, you know, whatever reason, that you might want to buy a piece of real estate in this area.”

Wyatt pinched his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. “You just never know.”

“Really? That's great!”

It seemed that if Brynn had her way, Wyatt would be moving in next week. Mortified, Annie gave her throat a noisy clearing.

“Brynn?”

“Right, right. I have to go. But listen. It was wonderful seeing you again.” She rummaged in her purse and withdrew a business card. “Call me. If you ever want to get out of that nasty old city, I'd be delighted to help.”

 

An awkward moment passed after Brynn breezed out. It was a while before either of them spoke again and in that time, memories of last night's all-too-brief good-night kiss filled Wyatt's mind. He knew that if he could feel the heat
that shimmered between them, she could too. The temperature inside the store seemed to suddenly rise ten degrees, and Wyatt shucked out of his jacket and tossed it behind the counter that held the cash register. He cocked a hip against the counter and crossing his legs at the ankles, shot her a tentative smile.

She answered with curved lips and slowly sank back into her chair.

A certainty that there could never again be happiness without this woman in his life suddenly filled Wyatt's belly with dread. Somehow, they had to figure out a way to be together. They had to finish what they'd started so many years ago in the shadows next to the campus library when, with one heart-stopping kiss, she'd become a part of his very soul.

Wyatt had to admit that coming to Keyhole and falling back in love with a woman who lived in a different world was sheer folly. But folly or not, the wheels were set in motion and he was helpless to stop.

Realizing he'd been staring, Wyatt pushed off the counter and moved to stand behind Annie. He placed his hands on her shoulders and bent to kiss her neck.

“Good morning,” he whispered against the smooth, warm column of her throat.

“Mmm, morning.” Annie clasped her fingers around his wrists and lay back against his chest. “Sorry about my sister. She tends to be a little zealous when it comes to her work.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“I just don't want you to think that I'm plotting to get you to move to Keyhole.”

“I don't think that.” He wished she was. “You know me. There's nothing I admire more than a solid work ethic.”

“Just as long as she remembers what's really important in this life.”

Wyatt had an uncanny feeling that this speech might be directed at him, and he grinned. Annie never forgot to put her family at the top of her list and was not shy about demanding that others do the same. How she managed to keep this place running so smoothly and at the same time keep her children happy and well adjusted was a testament to her determination.

“With you as an example,” he murmured against her neck, “I don't see how she could fail.”

He tipped her chin up with his forefinger and lowered his mouth to hers for the kiss he'd dreamed of ever since last night, when he'd left her standing at the top of her stairs, the feel of her lips still burning on his. He'd known that if he didn't leave at that very moment, there would be emotional hell to pay. So he'd gone. But to what end? His emotions were in a tangled knot anyway. All night he'd tossed and turned, anticipating the next opportunity to kiss Annie.

Annie seemed to sense what he was feeling and responded in kind. She turned in her chair and then slowly rose to stand within his embrace, wrapping herself around him like a honeysuckle vine, delicate, yet strong and oh, so fragrant. Together, bodies entwined, they stood, lungs heaving, hearts pounding, mouths searching, seeking.

Since before he'd arrived, Wyatt had known it would be like this between them again, a long smoldering ember, flaring to life, burning out of control when given the tiniest bit of oxygen. He filled his hands with her wonderful hair and pulled her closer still, kicking a chair out of his way. Never breaking their kiss, he lifted her up onto the table and pulled her thighs around his hips. She locked her legs around his at her ankles and circled her arms around his
neck. One palm on the tabletop, he cradled her back in his other arm, pressing against her, thrilling to the feel of a physical closeness that mirrored their emotional bond.

Wyatt was home.

Once again.

For home, family and future were all in Annie's arms.

It was very unfortunate, to Wyatt's way of thinking, that the first customer of the day would choose this precise moment to arrive. Luckily, they were shielded by a bank of china cabinets. With a tortured groan, he pulled her off the tabletop, stood her on her feet and kissed her nose.

“Later,” he whispered.

“Mmm,” she answered as she let her hands slide slowly over his chest. With a deep breath, she set about straightening up the breakfast mess she'd made with Brynn.

Having nothing better to do now that Emily was safe and sound next door, Wyatt put himself to work.

“Hi!” He held up hand and gave a jaunty little nice-to-see-you wave to the two customers, a middle-aged woman and the elderly lady she referred to as “Mom.”

“Hello.” The ladies smiled.

Wyatt advanced. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Yes. Do you have any Madrilla vases? We have a friend from Spain who collects them and her birthday is this Saturday.”

Wyatt nodded, mentally searching the myriad shelves he'd dusted for Annie. “Come with me,” he advised. “I know we have a lot of vases back here, but if you ask me, they're all pretty ugly.” He ignored Annie's strangled gasp. “Now, I know we have one of those washbasin-type pitcher and bowl sets. You could stick some flowers in that and pretend it's a vase.” He climbed onto a chair and re
trieved a pitcher, hand painted with delicate roses and gold trim.

“Wyatt!”

Wyatt sighed. Annie's face was all scrunched into a wad of concern. “Relax, Annie.” To the women he said, “She hates it when we jump on the furniture. Could you catch?” He gently lobbed the pitcher into the daughter's waiting arms.

Annie covered her face and emitted a guttural squawk.

“Oh, yeah. Mom, this would be perfect for Carmen's entry hall.”

“But Carmen collects Madrilla.”

“Madrilla, Shramilla.” Wyatt waved an impatient hand and let the bowl dangle from the other. “You don't want to give her an ugly vase, do you?”

Annie's exhale hissed though her lips like a leaky balloon.

Mom shrugged. “No…”

“He's right, Mom. I always thought those Madrilla vases were hideous.” The daughter grinned at Wyatt. “We'll take the pitcher.”

Annie looked up, eyes wide.

“Cool! But wait! There's more! The little washstand that goes with the pitcher set is on sale.” Wyatt remembered Annie telling him about a lot of these pieces as he'd carted them hither and yon the other night. He leapt off the chair, handed the bowl to “Mom,” vaulted over a love seat and lifted the washstand into the aisle. “It was made by some pioneer or other from around here, I think. Or maybe that was that funky little stool over there.”

Again, Annie's head flopped into her hands.

“Look at the dovetail work in the little drawers. Made with dowels and square nails. Don't see that anymore. If you ask me, we're giving the dumb thing away.”

“We'll take that,” the daughter said, “and the funky little stool, too. I've been looking for a stool exactly like that for my pump organ.”

Before they'd paid, arranged for delivery and left, more customers had arrived.

“Hi there,” Wyatt greeted the young couple before Annie could make it out from behind the cash register and deliver the lecture he sensed poised on her lips. “Whatcha looking for today?”

“We're looking for a pane of old style bubble glass to replace a broken window in our home.”

“Hmm…bubble glass, bubble glass. Never heard of it.”

“I don't know if that's the exact name of the stuff, but it looks like glass with little bubbles in it.”

“Sounds weird. Are you sure that's what you want? I mean, now that it's broken, I say good riddance.” Again, he ignored Annie's indignant cluckings and flabbergasted gasps. He grinned. At times, she sure sounded like MaryPat. “Come with me and check out these really old stained glass windows. They'll knock your socks off.”