Sweet on Peggy Read online

  “Great! Good name!”

  * * *

  RORY DROVE TO his worksite, a deck he was putting on the back of a house outside town, where he had his accident. He hoped that having to protect his hand wouldn’t slow him down. He had a list of clients waiting for his services. Thankfully, it was his left arm that was injured and not his right, but even so, it might make working difficult.

  He reached Ned Tompkins’s yard and got back to work. As he hammered the nails into the deck, his thoughts were solely on Peggy and what an idiot he’d made of himself. He’d practically bolted from the room. It wasn’t really a date, he reminded himself, but still it was as close as he’d come to one since he moved to Eden Harbor two months ago. He’d gone to the local pub downtown a couple of times, but the only women there were either with men or clustered in groups, whispering and giggling among themselves.

  Blame it on Haiti, but what he was looking for in a woman had changed after living there. He wasn’t interested in frivolous women, in dates consisting of expensive dinners and empty conversation or worse—online dating. He wanted to really connect with a woman who loved her work and who believed she made a difference in people’s lives. Because of Haiti, he wanted to make a difference no matter where he ended up living. Maybe he wouldn’t stay in Eden Harbor. Maybe he’d go back to Haiti for another two years. Whatever lay ahead for him, he wanted to be open to it. Life was about living in the here and now.

  He had no idea what Peggy wanted out of life, but he sure would like to get to know her better. He checked to make sure he had his cell phone on him. He’d have to keep track of the time so as not to be late for his coffee break with her.

  In Haiti he’d grown accustomed to working until the labor and the heat exhausted him and then eating with his friends and falling into bed.

  He continued to work on the deck, skipping lunch in order to get the first parts completed. Ned Tompkins had had the concrete posts poured to support the deck, and all that was left was to build the wooden structure over the posts. Ned wasn’t home, so there weren’t any interruptions, allowing Rory to settle into an enjoyable rhythm. The feel of wood in his hands, the smell of it, the sun’s heat on his shoulders reminded him of Haiti.

  But he was done with Haiti, at least for now. He had to be. He’d been completely stressed-out by his life there; the memories were painful. It was a life he’d once loved, and might love again once he had time to gain perspective on his experience in that country. He never walked past a child on the sidewalk in Eden Harbor that didn’t remind him of the two children whose lives he’d seen destroyed by the collapse of their home in Haiti.

  He adjusted his tool belt and laid another board over the base structure of the deck. It wasn’t until he realized that the sun wasn’t on his shoulders that he checked the time...

  * * *

  PEGGY SAT IN The Big Mug, glancing at her watch, answering questions from people she knew about what she was doing sitting there alone, did she want company and why wasn’t she going home after her long day. She didn’t know that a woman sitting by herself in a coffee shop could be such a point of interest.

  She’d moved to Eden Harbor two years ago after inheriting money from her father, money that guaranteed her escape from her mother and her life in Seattle, only to find herself in a community that took a great deal of pleasure in knowing each other’s business. As a new, unattached woman, she had been the subject of many conversations, judging by the way people quizzed her while she was taking their blood. Still, she loved Eden Harbor, the friends she made, her job and the time she spent with the local children. She glanced around the coffee shop again. Maybe if she had her laptop with her, or a newspaper, she would feel less exposed. As it was, a rapidly cooling cup of coffee and rising sense of embarrassment at the way she’d fallen for yet another man’s tall tale was all she had to keep her company.

  Yet Rory MacPherson seemed so sincere. He’d behaved as if he really wanted to have coffee with her. But had she read more into his behavior than was really there? Was her dateless life getting the better of her? Had it left her to create her own fantasy around a man she’d met only because he needed his blood taken? She’d even chosen a tiny booth at the back of the coffee shop just so they could talk. He’d said he wanted to talk. She shook her head at her gullibility. She’d fallen for his charm and sexiness, his smooth talk—clearly the only talk he planned to offer her.

  She glanced at her watch for the hundredth time—4:29 p.m.

  With a sigh she finished her coffee, gathered her coat, her bag and got out of the booth. Waving her thanks to the clerk, she headed for the side door leading to the parking lot. She pushed hard, only to have the door pop open, nearly landing her on her backside. Great! Another embarrassing moment, the crowning achievement of her afternoon.

  “I’m sorry!” Rory said, grabbing for her with his uninjured hand, pulling her against his broad chest, ending her rapid trip toward the concrete walkway outside the door.

  He steadied her as she recovered. “Are you all right?”

  She heard the sincerity in his voice and steeled herself against it. Action, not words, was what she needed. “I’m fine.” She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and stepped away from him. “And you’re late,” she said, instantly regretting the words that made her sound like a demanding, possessive woman. She was neither.

  “I’m really sorry. I lost track of time.”

  He looked so crestfallen she couldn’t resist offering him a conciliatory smile. “Never mind. I have to get home. I have horses to feed, dinner to prepare.”

  He let the door slide closed, leaving them standing outside in the parking lot. “Can I make it up to you?”

  His words made her realize how much she’d been looking forward to having coffee with him. All her brave thoughts about not minding being alone, of having accepted her single lifestyle, felt like a lie in the presence of this man.

  She had tomorrow off, and she wasn’t doing very much other than cleaning her tack room, grooming her two horses and hanging out around the house doing chores. If Rory MacPherson wanted to make it up to her, he could take her to dinner, and she’d be sure to meet him downtown. It was her policy on a first date that she always met the man somewhere away from her home, just in case he was a raving lunatic looking to avenge his angst against his mother on some unsuspecting female.

  She hadn’t yet managed to cure herself of being suspicious. “Okay. Why don’t we meet at O’Toole’s in the Wayfarer Inn, say around seven tomorrow evening?”

  “That sounds great. Does O’Toole’s have a dress code?”

  “Clean and neat as far as I know.”

  He turned, his body close to hers, his movement suggesting a closeness that didn’t exist between them. “Can I walk you to your car?”

  She moved out of his space, clutching her bag nearer her body. “No, that’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

  “Don’t be late,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice.

  * * *

  THE NEXT DAY Peggy got up early, energized by a good sleep and the prospect of a day off. She’d taken her mare, Suzie, out for a long ride down into the fields next to her farm. The people who owned the property were summer residents but had given her permission to ride their wooded trails. She was sweating almost as hard as her horse when she walked Suzie back into the barn and removed the saddle.

  On the ride her thoughts had been firmly on Rory, not a good sign at all. Given her track record in finding a man, she shouldn’t get her hopes up. Coffee with him, after all, had not gone as planned. She’d been left feeling like an afterthought, suggesting to her that he’d not been as excited about seeing her as she’d been about seeing him. Would dinner be fraught with the same mismatch of expectations?

  Every man she’d ever been attracted to had turned out to be a dud on one front or another. Her biggest disasters had been her online dating attempts. It convinced her that there had to be a lot of men out there who were more in
touch with Photoshop than any woman who came into their lives.

  Since she’d moved to Eden Harbor, she hadn’t dated anyone because she didn’t feel like getting to know someone only to be disappointed. Why was it that so many of her friends had found Mr. Right while she couldn’t find even one Mr. Maybe?

  She finished caring for Suzie, let her into the paddock with Zeus and headed back toward the house. From across the yard she heard Ned Tompkins calling to her. She glanced over to see that he was standing next to a pile of lumber, and his deck was beginning to take shape. She looked again. Was that Rory MacPherson?

  “Peggy! Come on over and meet my new carpenter,” Ned said.

  She smelled like sweat and dirt and horse. She couldn’t go over there without a shower. “Hi, Ned.” She pointed to her house. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. I’ll drop by on my way from town,” she said, scurrying along the path from the barn.

  “No, I need to talk to you. It’s important,” he yelled as he helped the carpenter with a long piece of wood. Wiping his hands on his pants, he said, “I want you to meet someone,” he insisted as he beckoned to her. “Come on.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said, intending to stay downwind, if there was a wind, so that her unwashed body wouldn’t offend anyone—namely, Rory. Reluctantly, she crossed the open stretch of field between the houses. Rory stopped what he was doing and turned to face her. He was even more gorgeous in the morning light. How could that be?

  Ned made the introductions, but she wasn’t listening. She was staring up into those gorgeous blue eyes and the mess-me-up-a-little dirty blond hair.

  “Small world,” he offered, his hand extended in greeting.

  “Yeah,” she said, but it sounded more like a sigh.

  “You know each other?” Ned asked, moving closer, his eyes darting from one to the other.

  “We met at the hospital,” Rory replied, looking deep into her eyes. So deep she thought she would fall in. What was it about this man that had her heart tripping in her chest?

  Ned cleared his throat. “Okay, well, can you stay for a few minutes, Peggy? I need to speak to you.”

  If her world was perfectly in sync with her wishes, she’d stay right here and learn to be a carpenter. She’d spend long hours working up a sweat with this man. She tried not to look at the muscles curving over his shoulders and chest under his black T-shirt.

  But her world wasn’t perfect. She smelled like an armpit. She had to run errands in town, maybe pick up a new top for tonight. Something sexy...

  She dragged her gaze from Rory and focused on Ned. “Sorry, Ned, but I have an appointment. Can we talk later?”

  “I guess so. It’s certainly not going to go away anytime soon, so yeah...later.”

  Rory leaned toward her. She backed up, hoping not to shroud him in her eau de horse.

  “I’ll see you at seven,” he said, low enough that Ned couldn’t hear, for which she was very, very thankful. Nothing against Ned. It was just that she’d like to have a little privacy, and obviously so did Rory. Nice.

  CHAPTER TWO

  RORY PACED BACK and forth in front of the Wayfarer Inn. He’d dug out his best dress pants from among the stuff he’d brought from his mother’s house in Bangor, ironed his only dress shirt and borrowed a tie from the guy in the apartment next to him, all in preparation for tonight.

  He was about to make another lap around the front flower beds of the inn when he saw her coming across the street. She hadn’t seen him yet. Her stride was long, her silky brown hair clung to her cheeks and the sea green dress she was wearing skimmed her body in all the right places. When she looked his way, he smiled and waved.

  Tonight was going to be special. He could feel it. He sucked in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, then realized that he sounded like an overeager teenager.

  Peggy glanced at her watch. “Am I late?”

  “No, I’m early,” he said as she came near.

  She smiled at him, her eyes meeting his. “That’s nice.”

  “What is?” he asked, unable to take his eyes from hers.

  “You. Being early...for a change,” she said, chuckling.

  “So I’m to be reminded of my one sin, am I?”

  “Not if tonight goes okay. If all ends well, I will never mention the missed coffee date ever again.”

  “Deal,” he said, placing his arm on the small of her back as he led her to the entrance of the inn. He felt so good walking beside her, letting her flowery perfume play along his senses. The waiter showed them to a table by the window with a view of the side garden near the trestle he’d built for their climbing roses. He held her chair for her as she sat down.

  “May I take your drink orders?” the waiter asked.

  “White wine for me,” Peggy said, raising her eyebrows at him.

  “Me, too,” he offered. “I can’t remember the last time I had any alcohol,” he said as the waiter left.

  “You don’t drink? You don’t have to have a glass of wine just because I do.”

  “No. I drink. I simply haven’t since I got back from Haiti.”

  “You lived in Haiti?”

  He toyed with the lip of his water glass, his gut tightening. He wished now he hadn’t mentioned Haiti. Yet he’d done it out of a need to be completely honest with the woman who had held his attention since he’d met her. “Yes, for two years.”

  “Did you like it?”

  He’d spent the early weeks after he’d gotten back trying not to think about Haiti. He’d finally given up trying. Haiti changed his life. “I’m not sure. I don’t know how to describe it.”

  “I’m listening if you want to try.”

  He met her attentive gaze and was tempted. Yet he wasn’t quite ready to share those memories he’d held so close to his heart, memories both happy and tragic. “Haiti is a special place. I was working for an NGO whose purpose was to rebuild the homes lost in the earthquake. But now I’m back, ready to enjoy life, to make each moment count.”

  “I admire you for what you’ve done,” she said, a smile lighting her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to encourage him to continue.

  As much as he wanted to say more, he didn’t want to ruin their evening by getting into a heavy topic like the devastation in Haiti. Their wine arrived. He picked up his glass. “To this evening.”

  “To this evening,” she responded, putting her glass to her lips. He couldn’t help noticing that her fingers were long, her nails painted in a subtle shade of pink.

  They both ordered a steak. He was pleased to discover a woman who liked steak. Most of the women he’d dated didn’t eat steak because it was too fattening, or too something. To him it was the perfect food. To each his own, he mused as he watched her sip her wine.

  “You like to ride horses,” he said.

  “I do. When I came here, I was lucky enough to find a small farm property with a barn. I found two horses I love, and I’m now looking at offering riding lessons. On a very small scale, of course, since I work full-time. What about you? What brought you to Eden Harbor?”

  “My mother passed away a couple of months ago. I inherited her house in Bangor, sold it and couldn’t decide what to do after. Then one day it came to me.”

  Her eyes popped open, the corner of her lips tipped up in a smile. “What came to you?”

  “The answer to where I’d move once all the paperwork around my mom’s death was finished. Mom summered in Eden Harbor, out on Cranberry Point, when she was a kid. She loved it. Coming here was an easy decision. I just put some of my things in storage, the rest I put in the back of my truck and I hit the road.” He felt her interested gaze on him and wanted to share more with her. “It just felt right to come here, where my mom had been so happy.” He played with the tines of his fork. “She hadn’t been very happy the last couple of years.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

  “I am, too. She developed cancer...” He was sor
ry he’d brought up this particular heavy topic. It had been a very difficult time for him. His mother’s death and what he’d experienced in Haiti had left him desolate and uncertain for the first time in his life.

  “Why did you choose to be a carpenter?”

  “It’s more like carpentry chose me. My dad liked to build things. When he passed away a few years ago, he left me all his tools. I found myself wanting to learn everything I could about working with wood. I found a program at the tech school in Bangor and decided to try my hand at it.”

  She smiled at him over her glass. He felt ridiculously pleased and happy. The best he’d felt since he’d gotten home from Haiti. As they ate they talked about so many things, and he found himself thinking that it would be nice to do this every day...with Peggy. He loved the way she listened to him, made intelligent comments about his work, offered her ideas and generally made him feel that she understood why he’d chosen carpentry.

  For the first time since he’d returned home, he wanted to share his feelings about his work in the past two years. What it meant to him. Yet somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do it. To talk about it would make the agony of those months even more acute.

  When the waiter brought the dessert menu, they both chose the chocolate cake. “You and I have a lot in common,” he said, enjoying the evening more than he’d imagined.

  “At least when it comes to food,” she said.

  “A great place to start, don’t you think?” he asked, delighted that her gaze never left his face.

  “Why don’t you tell me about your job? You’re good at it, that much I know from my experience.”

  “I love it most of all because of the contact with people, and especially children.”

  So they shared a love of children, as well. He wondered why a woman as attractive and interesting as Peggy wasn’t already married or engaged. “Yeah, you put that little boy at ease.”

  “I aim to please,” she said, color rising in her cheeks. He liked a woman who blushed when complimented.