The Rescue - Nicholas Sparks [88]
As he walked past her toward the kitchen, he stopped, leaning toward her ear as if sharing a secret.
“I know. I’m supposed to go over to Mitch’s this morning to help fix his roof. But I’m willing to play hooky once if you are.”
“But I took the morning off at the store,” Mitch protested gamely. “You can’t back out on me now. I’ve already pulled everything out of the garage.”
Dressed in jeans and an old shirt, he had been waiting for Taylor to pull up when he heard the phone ring.
“Well, put it all back in,” Taylor said good-naturedly. “Like I said, I’m not going to be able to make it.”
As Taylor talked, he moved the bacon around with a fork in the sizzling pan. The aroma filled the house. Denise was standing close by, still in her short robe, scooping coffee grounds into the filter. The sight of her made Taylor wish that Kyle would disappear for the next hour or so. His mind was barely on the conversation.
“But what if it rains?”
“You already told me it’s not leaking yet. That’s why you let me put it off this long.”
“Four cups or six?” Denise asked.
Lifting his chin away from the receiver, Taylor answered. “Make it eight. I love coffee.”
“Who’s that?” Mitch asked, everything suddenly coming clear now “Hey . . . are you with Denise?”
Taylor looked toward her admiringly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”
“So you were with her all night?”
“What kind of question is that?”
Denise smiled, knowing exactly what Mitch was saying on the other end.
“You sly dog . . .”
“So about your roof,” Taylor said loudly, trying to get the subject back on track.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Mitch said, suddenly affable. “You just have yourself a nice time with her. It’s about time you finally found someone—”
“Good-bye, Mitch,” Taylor said, cutting him off. Shaking his head, he hung up the phone while Mitch was still talking.
Denise pulled the eggs from the grocery bag. “Scrambled?” she asked.
He grinned. “With you looking so good, how could I not feel scrambled?”
She rolled her eyes. “You really are a goob.”
Two hours later they were sitting on a blanket at the beach near Nags Head, Taylor applying sunscreen to Denise’s back. Kyle was using a plastic shovel nearby, scooping sand from one spot on the beach and moving it to another. Neither Taylor nor Denise had any idea what he was thinking as he did it, but he seemed to be enjoying it.
For Denise, the memories of the previous evening were revived as she felt the lotion being caressed into her skin.
“Can I ask you a question?” she said.
“Sure.”
“Last night . . . after we’d . . . well . . .” She paused.
“After we’d done the horizontal tango?” Taylor offered.
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t make it sound so romantic,” she protested, and Taylor laughed. She shook her head but was unable to repress a grin.
“Anyway,” she went on, regaining her composure. “Afterward, you got sort of quiet, like you were . . . sad or something.”
Taylor nodded, looking out to the horizon. Denise waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.
Watching the waves as they rolled up the shore, Denise gathered her courage.
“Was it because you regretted what happened?”
“No,” he said quietly, his hands on her skin again. “It wasn’t that at all.”
“Then what was it?”
Without answering directly, Taylor followed her eyes, tracking the waves. “Do you remember back when you were a kid? Around Christmas? And how the anticipation was sometimes even more exciting than opening the presents?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what it reminds me of. I’d been dreaming about what it would finally be like . . .”
He stopped, considering how best to communicate what he meant.
“So the anticipation was actually more exciting than last night?” she asked.
“No,” he said quickly. “You’ve got it all wrong. It was just the opposite. Last night was wonderful—you were wonderful. The whole thing was so perfect . . . I guess it makes me sad to think that there’s never going be a first time with you again.”
At that, he grew quiet once more. Denise, musing on his words and the sudden stillness