204 Rosewood Lane - Debbie Macomber [54]
Maryellen was still waiting on the customer as Jon made a second and then third trip, carrying photographs into the back room.
“I’m going to think it over,” Mrs. Whitfield said.
It took Maryellen a moment to realize the doctor’s wife was referring to the watercolor she’d been considering as a Christmas gift for her husband.
“That’ll be fine,” Maryellen said. Then, with far too little warning, she was alone in the back room of the gallery with Jon.
“Hello,” she said stiffly, doing her best to remain cordial and polite. Before leaving his house, she’d told him their relationship, from that point forward, would be strictly business. She’d meant it.
“Hello.” His eyes probed her with such intensity she looked away.
“It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?” she murmured.
“The sky’s a dull gray and it’s threatening to rain.”
She smiled weakly. Obviously, small talk wasn’t working, but when had it ever with this man? “I see you’ve brought me a few pictures.”
“These are the ones you left at my house. If you hadn’t been in such a rush—”
“I appreciate your bringing them by,” she said, cutting him off before he could say something else to remind her of that evening.
“I came for another reason,” he said. He tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. His pacing was making her nervous, and then she realized he was nervous, too. He stopped abruptly. “Are you free Sunday afternoon? There’s a dinner train I’ve always wanted to take and I was hoping you’d agree to come as my guest.”
This was exactly what Maryellen had feared was going to happen. She held her breath so long that her lungs began to ache. “Thank you, but no.”
“No?” He sounded hurt and confused.
“I meant what I said earlier. It’s important that our relationship not become personal.”
He frowned. “A little late for that,” he muttered.
She ignored his remark. “I’m not interested in seeing you outside the gallery.” She couldn’t make it any plainer than that.
“You were the one who invited me to the Halloween party.”
“I know, and that was a mistake. The first of several. Listen, Jon, this is all rather embarrassing and awkward, but I’d consider it a favor if you forgot all about what happened.”
His frown darkened. “That’s really what you want?”
“Please.”
It looked as though he was going to argue with her, but then he shook his head. “I don’t have any other choice do I?”
“I know. Again, I’m sorry.”
“Fine, whatever.”
Maryellen wrote him a receipt for the pictures and held it out to him.
An uncomfortable moment passed before he took the slip, turned and walked out of the gallery. As soon as he was gone, Maryellen closed her eyes and released her pent-up tension in the form of a deep sigh. She sagged onto the stool and tried to compose herself.
“Just a minute here,” Jon said, bursting back inside the room. “I don’t do a good job of pretending. Maybe you can forget what happened, but I can’t. Dammit, Maryellen, what we had was good. Surely you can see that?”
“No, I can’t. Please don’t make things any more difficult than they already are.” She should’ve known he wouldn’t be willing to drop this.
“I’m not the one making things difficult—you are. Let’s meet and talk this out. You decide when and where.”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
“I don’t understand you,” Jon said, pacing again. The old boards creaked beneath his feet as he walked around a gorgeous blue porcelain vase she was getting ready to display. “If you want to pretend it didn’t happen, fine, be my guest, but I can’t. I wish to God I could because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. About us….”
“Rest assured the matter is out of my mind.”
He snorted at that, recognizing her remark for the lie it was. “If you gave us a chance,” he argued, “you might discover we have something worthwhile here.”
“I doubt it,