92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [109]
After the conversation with his sister, Mack went outside, determined to work on his garden. He chose the south side of the house for exposure to the afternoon sun. He started digging, shoveling up lawn and dirt to create new flower beds.
The area would need a load of topsoil and plenty of fertilizer. Mack had big plans for this garden. Although the mid-April weather was still cool, he soon broke out in a sweat. Pausing to take off his shirt, he worked steadily until Mary Jo parked in their shared driveway.
Mack checked his watch and saw that it was after five. The afternoon, his last afternoon off this week, had sped by. His next shift started at eight tomorrow morning and would last until Saturday. He liked the extended periods of time off this job gave him.
After removing Noelle from her car seat, Mary Jo walked directly past him as she had every day that week. To his surprise she stopped abruptly and stared at him. Mack waited for her to say something. She didn’t, so he continued digging as tenaciously as if he were inches from a vein of gold.
“Hi,” Mary Jo said shyly.
Mack raised his head and leaned against the shovel, trying to suggest that he’d only just noticed her. “Oh, hi. I didn’t see you there.”
She seemed to be studying him closely. “Something wrong?” he asked. Maybe he had on two different shoes. He generally didn’t care that much about what he wore.
Mary Jo looked away. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”
“Have I got mud smeared on my face?”
“No.” Her neck had gone a warm shade of pink.
“Tell me.”
She appeared even more uneasy. “You look…good. All muscular and tan.”
Hey, that was promising. “I do?”
“I’ve never seen you without a shirt before.”
“I am a firefighter, you know. There’s a reason we’re the preferred candidates for those hunk calendars.” He resisted the urge to pump his arm muscles in order to impress her with his prowess—or, more likely, make her laugh.
Mary Jo smiled at his comment. “Would you like some iced tea?” she asked.
This was definite progress. “I’d love it.”
“Okay if I leave Noelle here? I’ll be right back.”
Mack gazed down at the sleeping infant in her carrier, then watched as Mary Jo headed for her half of the duplex. Still leaning against the shovel handle, he studied her from behind and cursed himself for ever agreeing to this six-month engagement. He wanted to marry her.
Five minutes later, she reappeared with a glass of iced tea. Mack gratefully accepted it and drank the whole glass in one extended swallow.
“You were thirsty.”
“I was,” he said and noticed once again that she had a hard time keeping her eyes off him. Good. He wanted her to feel this sense of deprivation as strongly as he did. Mack decided then and there to see if he could get her to reconsider. “Could we talk?”
“Sure,” she said, backing away from him. “About anything in particular?”
Oh, yes, but Mack thought he’d approach the subject carefully. “Maybe we should discuss this inside.”
“Fine.” She picked up the baby carrier and led the way into her duplex.
Mack followed dutifully. He pulled out a chair at the small kitchen table and waited as she brought Noelle to her room. When she returned, she rinsed his glass and poured him another one.
“About our engagement,” he finally said.
Mary Jo whirled around, her back against the kitchen counter and her hands behind her. “Yes—what about it?”
“I feel we might want to rethink—”
She bristled. “If you want to back out, I understand, really I do. You’re under no obligation to marry me. I haven’t heard from David in two weeks now, so maybe he’s given up. But I appreciate how much you care about Noelle and—”
“Who said anything about backing out?” he asked, letting his irritation show.
She frowned. “I thought—you know…”