said. “And wine sounds lovely.”
In a matter of seconds the plate of food that had been warming in the oven was on the table and a glass of wine was sitting before her.
Betsy had just taken her first bite when Mr. Marstand squinted behind his spectacles. “Have you been crying?”
Betsy started to choke on the Stroganoff but quickly washed it down with a sip of wine. “I have a little headache, that’s all.”
Neither the older man nor the younger one looked convinced, but neither pursued the topic further. Instead they talked about the weather, the upcoming bowl games and Puffy’s penchant for Greenies. Then silence descended over the table.
Oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, Mr. Marstand broke the silence first. “I hear you finally got the furnace installed in your aunt’s house.”
Betsy looked up from the absolutely delicious Stroganoff in surprise. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Well, actually we saw the billing statement on your counter.” Ryan had the grace to look slightly abashed.
Mr. Marstand waved a hand. “It was sitting right there in plain sight.”
Betsy didn’t care. It wasn’t as if the furnace was a big secret. “Yes, it’s been installed. And the city inspector has been out and removed the red tag from the house. I’m going over there tomorrow to start cleaning.”
“Don’t you have to work?” Mr. Marstand asked.
Betsy shook her head, hoping Ryan hadn’t said anything about her quitting. Even though her elderly neighbor liked to present a tough-as-nails image, if he knew she was unemployed, he’d worry.
Thankfully Ryan simply took another sip of his wine.
“What kind of cleaning will you be doing?” The old man sounded surprisingly interested.
“Aunt Agatha was something of a pack rat, so I had a Dumpster delivered today. I’m going to get there early tomorrow and start tossing things. Until I get all the junk out of there, it will be hard to clean.”
And impossible to sell, she thought with a sigh.
At one time Betsy had envisioned her and Ryan working together to renovate the house. Even though the place was a mess right now, it had potential. In fact, since she and Ryan had become involved, each time Betsy had thought about the house, she’d pictured the two of them sitting together before the fireplace, eating breakfast in the little nook off the kitchen and making love in the large master bedroom.
Now she’d be getting the house ready to sell. Another couple or family would be the ones building memories in the home, not she and Ryan.
“Tomorrow? Well, this is your lucky day, missy,” Mr. Marstand said. “I usually go to bingo on Tuesdays, but it got cancelled. Which means I’m available. What time do you want to start? I can be ready by six. Is that too late?”
Six? Was he kidding? “Er, I was thinking of starting around nine.”
“That’ll work.” The older man shifted his gaze to Ryan. “What about you, son? Will that time work for you?”
Betsy tightened her hand around her wineglass. Nonono. This situation was rapidly getting out of control.
“I don’t have any appointments tomorrow, so I’m available.” Ryan kept his gaze focused on Mr. Marstand. “I’ll have my truck if we need to haul any cleaning supplies, ladders, stuff like that.”
“Good thinking.” The older man nodded his approval before pushing back his chair and standing. “I hate to eat and run, but my favorite show will be on the tube in five minutes.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Ryan stood. “I’ve got a few things I need to do yet this evening, too.”
Mr. Marstand cocked his head. “Don’t you want to stay and keep Betsy company while she eats?”
“I’d love to, but I have an, er, an appointment.” Ryan edged toward the door.
“Ryan, honey,” Betsy said in a sugary sweet tone. “Please stay. There are a couple things we need to discuss.”
She needed to make it clear that while she appreciated his efforts tonight, this was not happening again. He was out of her life. It might not make sense now, but one day he would thank her for it.
“Sorry, can’t.” His hand curved around the doorknob. “My, er, my mom is expecting me.”
“In that case you have to go,” Mr. Marstand said before Betsy could say a word. “A man can’t keep his mother waiting. Isn’t that right, Betsy?”
Betsy tried to meet Ryan’s eyes, to say in a glance what she couldn’t say with Mr. Marstand standing there hanging on to every word. But Ryan looked everywhere except at her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He opened the door and stepped aside to allow Mr. Marstand to pass, reaching out to steady the older man when he started to wobble.
Betsy rushed toward the door. The fact that he was out of her life had to be made clear before he got out of her sight.
“Ryan,” she called out, her slippers’ bunny ears flopping up and down with each step, “I want you—”
He reached out a hand and pulled her to him, his lips closing over hers. Her head told her not to respond. Her body had different ideas. By the time he broke off the kiss, she was swaying and her thoughts were a tangled mess.
Her head was still spinning when he headed down the steps. When he reached the bottom he turned and smiled. “I want you, too, sweetheart.”
No, she wanted to call out, I want you out of my life. But she remained mute as he jumped into his truck and drove away.
She wanted him. That hadn’t changed. But getting him out of her life? She touched her tingling lips. That was proving to be a far more difficult task.
Ryan drove slowly through downtown Jackson, encouraged but still frightened. Of course he’d never admit the frightened part to anyone. He’d ridden two-thousand-pound bulls and never once been afraid. Yet the thought of losing Betsy filled him with icy fear. Even though she’d kissed him as though she didn’t want to let him go, he had the feeling she still planned to walk away. He just wasn’t sure why.
Traffic was heavy, but Ryan didn’t mind. Going home held little appeal, as did stopping at Wally’s Place. Although it was Ladies’ Night and the bar would be crawling with women, there was only one woman Ryan wanted, and she wouldn’t be there.
As he slowed his truck for a turning car, he noticed that Hill of Beans was still open. Even though it didn’t make sense to flood his system with caffeine this late at night, he turned into the parking lot.
Ryan pushed open the door to the coffee shop and breathed in the rich aroma. White lights and brightly colored bulbs still decorated a
