In His Eyes Read online

  “Not at all.”

  “No, never.” Their chorus of encouragement rang in her ears. Brave words but Diana wasn’t so sure. Once upon a time, Will had told her he loved her. Would he love the woman she was now?

  Chapter 17

  From the streaked windows of Hippy Chick, Diana watched the freezing rain drill down on Gull Harbor. Absolutely nothing was happening. The holidays were coming and business was slow. Before the weather changed, a few women wandered in. But they were just looking. Not even Thanksgiving and people were saving their money for Christmas gifts. Kate was doing a great job with her promotions, including her Holiday Walk, planned for mid December. She couldn’t wait to see Santa and his sleigh at the end of Whittaker.

  “Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?” Grandma Kit had asked when she phoned.

  “Wish I could, Grandma. But that’s my busy time. Maybe after Christmas?” She couldn’t let her grandmother see her like this.

  “Oh honey, of course. Don’t worry about Ethel and me. We’re fine. I may not be able to work down at Hope Mission anymore, but church is having a big party...” and she was off. Grandma Kit had always been resilient. She would never lay a guilt trip on Diana for not making it home for the holiday.

  The rain was turning to snow. She sure hoped the salt trucks got out. The ring of the landline was a pleasant distraction.

  “Hey Diana. It’s me.” She sank onto the stool behind the counter. How she missed him. “I’m picking you up, and we’re going for ice cream.”

  “But it’s freezing outside.”

  “All the more reason to get out.”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  “I’m not.” His sigh made guilt stir in her chest. “I want to see you.”

  See her? See her scars? “I miss you too.” By holding him at bay, she was just delaying the inevitable. If her face was going to change things between them, she wanted to know now.

  “I’ll pick you up at your house at seven.”

  “Where are we going?” She glanced out at the bleak street.

  “You’ll see.”

  His playful tone made her smile. “Always so mysterious.”

  “I promise you’ll like it.” The words stoked a heat deep inside. She knew what she really wanted and it wasn’t ice cream. Then she touched her face and felt the stiff half-moon. She’d have to hustle him right to the car so they didn’t end up in the bedroom. “All right. I’ll watch for you.”

  Closing up shop that day didn’t take long. She’d had plenty of time the past few days to fold, straighten, and clean the glass counters until they sparkled. Once home, she ate a quick frozen dinner and then surveyed her closet. The cold weather made her choice easy. Her violet sweater had a deep turtleneck that she could tug up around her face. Black jeans were a staple, as was her black leather jacket. The knee-high boots were easy to slip on.

  Now for hair and makeup. Phoebe had come through for her with the website for theater cosmetics, and Diana placed an order. But the pancake makeup hadn’t arrived yet and that was a problem.

  Facing herself in the mirror, she played with her hair. Definitely needed bangs. “Sorry, Phoebe, I know you might not approve but I’m short on time.” She began to snip, and hair showered into the sink. Wasn’t too hard to shape the bangs longer on the sides. Not perfect but not bad.

  When Will rang the bell, she was ready but her stomach churned with anxiety. Hand on the doorknob, she sucked in a breath. The hammering of her heart told her just how much she cared about Will. This wasn’t Bryce, whose callous dismissal disillusioned her those last weeks with him. No, this was sweet Will.

  She loved him. Her heart thudded in her chest. Yep, the L word.

  “Diana? You in there?” Will rang the bell again. Now or never. She opened the door. How it tore at her heart to see that tentative smile on his face, like he didn’t know if he’d be welcome.

  “Hi, Will.”

  She was already in his arms when he said, “Hey, beautiful.”

  Diana stiffened. Oh, she’d wanted to hear those words, but now they did sound strange.

  He pulled back. “Anything wrong?”

  “No, nothing.” Twisting from his arms, she grabbed her jacket and followed him to his car.

  Seemed like forever since they’d taken a trek up Red Arrow. His hand fell to her knee so naturally. But those carefree dates in the Mustang, with her hair blowing in the warm breeze, were past. Now Will drove his sensible white sedan.

  “No Mustang?”

  He shook his head. “They’re predicting snow.”

  “Ah, protecting your pride and joy?”

  “You got that right. I take care of things and people I care about, remember?” His voice trailed off. “Or I try.”

  She looked over at his clenched jaw. “You did, Will. You did.”

  “Like hell. Diana, I...”

  “Shush, shush.” How long would he blame himself?

  Salt had been sprinkled over the road, and it rattled against the tires. The headlights bounced off the slick road. Was ice forming as the temperature dropped? Summer seemed so long ago. In the car, she couldn’t keep Will on her right side and she felt exposed. Dry heat blasted from the vents, and she could practically feel the scar tighten. She tugged at the collar of her leather jacket. When they got wherever they were headed, she’d find a ladies’ room and apply more ointment on her scar to keep it supple.

  She squirmed in her seat. “Where are we going?” The rain had stopped but the car was buffeted by strong winds. Winter was closing in on them.

  “Almost there.” Dusk was falling when he pulled into a place called the Beach Bucket.

  “I’ve never been here.” Through a large glass window, she saw a man turning out the lights.

  “Damn, I should have called. He must be shutting down early because of the crummy weather.” Jumping from the car, Will hurried her into the shop where the owner was packing up. “Ready to close?”

  “Not quite. How can I help you?”

  The smell of warm chocolate filled the air, a lot more enticing than the case of frozen ice cream. “Is that hot chocolate?” Scanning the area, she ran smack into a huge mirror. The pink scar screamed at her. Had the cold air made it darker? She tugged at the deep turtleneck.

  Will walked over to a tall, stainless dispenser. “Got any left?”

  “Help yourself. I’m about to throw it out.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.” Hands on the display case, Will studied the huge containers of ice cream. “I’ll have the maple bacon ice cream in the hot chocolate.” He turned to her.

  “Um, pistachio?” She tried to focus. The man plopped a scoop of ice cream in each cup and handed them to Will and Diana.

  “Hot chocolate is in the dispenser against the wall.” The man pointed and Will did the honors.

  “Is this your secret recipe?” she teased while a mouthwatering aroma rose from the concoctions he was creating.

  “Yep. Wait and see.” Will handed her a cup. The warmth felt good in her hands. “Want to sit in the car?”

  “Sure.” Braving a ferocious wind, they said good-bye, pushed through the door and climbed back into the car. Will turned on the motor and the heat blasted. Her skin would dry but she pushed the worry away. For a few minutes, they sipped and gulped. It felt so good to be with him. When Will ended up with whipped cream on his nose, she swiped it off. They sat and talked about nothing in particular. After they finished, he gathered the cups and braved the wind to dump them in the trash. He dodged back inside, bringing the cold air with him. But the chill didn’t last when he kissed her.

  “God, how I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

  “Me too.” But while their kisses kicked up a notch, her left cheek began to itch. “Think I’m getting overheated.”

  His chuckle stirred something low in her belly. “You aren’t alone with that.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean that.”

  “Well, I did.” Eyes sultry, he brushed her
lips until she couldn’t resist. He tasted so good, like hot chocolate and bacon. For just a few minutes, they were back in the early fall when every day felt like a gift.

  Now it wasn’t summer. A cold wind whistled outside and it felt like a quarter was pasted to her cheek.

  Finally, they pulled apart. “What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” Will asked.

  ~.~

  Now what? Will felt Diana stiffen. Tugging at the neckline of her sweater, she looked away. How could he help her see nothing had changed? The marks on her face would be shrugged off by a guy, even considered macho. But it was different with a woman, and he felt terrible that he’d helped cause it. He was determined to work through this, but she sure wasn’t making it easy. So far, Diana hadn’t gone back to the Sunday dances. Jan kept asking about her.

  “I’ll probably be here for Thanksgiving,” she finally said. “Kate has pulled together a promotion for a Black Friday sale, so I have to be in the store. Business has been down this month.” She dropped her eyes.

  “Couldn’t Rachel take care of Hippy Chick for a couple days?”

  Diana shook her head. “She’s going into Chicago to visit her boyfriend.”

  A Thanksgiving Day feast was planned for the care center. But he didn’t know how she would take that, kind of like returning to the scene of a crime. Besides, he wanted her to himself. “I’ve got an idea.”

  She was playing with her hair.

  “Why don’t I cook dinner for you?”

  “Oh, Will. You don’t have to do that. Aren’t you going back to Beanblossom?”

  “No, I always stay at the facility for holidays. Cooking this meal could be good practice.” What was he saying? Any cooking he did was in the microwave.

  “I don’t know, Will.” She pulled away.

  How could he peel her from that damned door? “I don’t want to be alone for Thanksgiving.”

  She cocked her head to one side and he held his breath, hoping she didn’t overthink this. After all, he had two hundred residents ready to celebrate the holiday with him. Before, that had always been fine. Not anymore. But Diana felt so distant. He hoped putting plans on their calendars would bring them together.

  “Sounds nice, Will. Thank you.” Frowning, she pulled at her lower lip. “Hope I have the right pans. I may have to call my grandmother.”

  He wanted to whoop. “I’ll take care of everything.” Brave words.

  “What fun.” Her face had brightened.

  When they reached her door that night, he stood helpless, hands at his side. Would she give some signal. She half-turned toward him. “Thank you for tonight.”

  Heck with this, he put his hands on her waist. “Everything okay with us, Diana?”

  She hitched a shoulder. “Sure. I’m just, well, in recovery mode.”

  “Does it hurt?” He’d never had a burn and had no clue how she was feeling.

  “Not much. Pulls a little. But this might be the best that it gets, Will. Right here.” Lifting her chin, she pointed to her cheek.

  He raised a hand to push back a wisp of her hair. “You know you’ll always be beautiful to me.”

  Her eyes filled. What had he said? She stiffened when he pulled her close to cuddle on his chest. Finally, she sighed and settled in. The smell of her, the feel of her body put him on overload. When they kissed, heat surged through his body. Wanting her so badly, he let his hands wander lower. But she wasn’t having it. Hands flat on his chest, Diana reared back. “I’m, ah, a little tired.”

  “Sure. Right.” Stepping back, he knew he had to give her space. Thanksgiving was next week. They’d have that time together, and he’d make it count. He had a lot to prepare for and he wasn’t thinking about food.

  Chapter 18

  Diana spent Thanksgiving morning cleaning while she watched the Macy’s parade on TV. Keeping busy helped keep her sane. A lot could go wrong this Thanksgiving.

  What if Will looked at her in the daylight and couldn’t handle it? The heavy grease paint had arrived, and she watched three YouTube videos to learn how to use it. Still, what if they got cozy and it ended up all over, well, everything? She couldn’t coat her entire left arm in the stuff.

  When she closed up shop on Wednesday, she’d gone straight to Clancy’s for her Thanksgiving dinner supplies. Cans of green beans, mushroom soup, and cranberry sauce made an impressive pyramid on her kitchen counter. She’d rearranged them at least four times before Will rang the bell.

  When Diana opened the door, Will stood clutching an enormous pan, the top covered with foil. Hair upended and cheeks flushed, he looked like a wild man. A very attractive wild man.

  She threw the door wide. “That looks heavy. Don’t drop it.”

  “I’ve got it. Happy Thanksgiving.” When he tried to kiss her, she turned just in time. His lips landed on her right cheek, the huge bird a cold lump between them.

  She glanced down. “Did you thaw it?”

  “I kind of forgot and left it in the trunk all night. Think it’ll be okay?” After stamping the snow from his boots, he stepped inside. “I did take it out of the plastic wrapper this morning and covered it with foil. My mother always did that.”

  If his mother did it that way, it must be right. “Here. Let me take that.” She held out her arms.

  “Absolutely not.” After toeing off his boots, he shuffled toward the kitchen island. “This is too heavy for you.”

  Diana shut the door against a leaden sky. “Are we supposed to have snow?”

  “With some accumulation.” Free of his burden, he settled his eyes on her and smiled. “You look pretty.”

  Self-conscious, she ran a hand down the soft white cashmere sweater. “Thank you.” Her hair had taken an hour to get just right.

  Shrugging out of his brown leather jacket, he snatched some notes from a pocket. She was used to the administrator, the man in command. Today Will looked flustered and adorable. “What’s our timeline? When should this go in the oven?”

  He expected her to know this? “Soon. Right?” Grandma Kit had always handled Thanksgiving dinner. Setting the table had been Diana’s assignment. Now her small, circular table held orange and brown placemats from the dollar store, along with orange napkins with napkin rings that were autumn leaves. Three wooden candleholders sat in the center. That and the cans on the counter were her contribution, along with a pumpkin pie from Mandy Klavis’ bakery.

  Staring at the oven, Will scratched his head. “How do I start this?”

  “It’s electric. I think you turn the knob.”

  He gave her a side-glance. “And then?”

  “It goes on. You pop the bird in, right? Okay, I’m better with the microwave than a stove.” How humiliating. Frozen dinners were her forte. “Maybe we should have gone out.”

  “I tried. Everything’s closed. We can do this.” He eyed the knobs on the almond-colored stove as if they were spaceship controls.

  “Here. Let’s try this.” She pushed in the oven knob and turned it. Red lights went on. Lift-off.

  “Excellent.” His smile restored her confidence.

  Checking his notes, he fiddled with the knob. “We might have to ramp this up a little,” she heard him mutter.

  “Can I peek?” She fingered the foil.

  “Sure. Of course. But first, one thing.” Coming up behind her, Will slipped his arms around her waist. She forgot all about the mountain of poultry on her counter. He smelled wonderfully spicy, warm and familiar. Feeling like candle wax, she leaned back on his shoulder. When he nuzzled her neck, his lips tickled. They also turned her on. Desire flared through her body. “Oh, Will.”

  “What is it?” Hands soft on her shoulders, Will tried to turn her, but she wasn’t ready for a face-to-face.

  While her feelings ebbed, she broke away. “Shouldn’t we get this party going?” The kitchen drawer rattled when she yanked it open.

  “Guess so.” Resignation weighed his voice.

  But she had to stay focused. “That is one
big bird.” Shuffling stuff around in the drawer, she finally found the meat thermometer Grandma Kit had given her, still in the packaging. The can opener was there too. “Is the turkey all set?”

  Will stared at it woefully. “Guess so. I took it out of the bag.” Misgivings curled in her stomach. Were they both out of their element?

  “Where did you get that huge pan?” she asked, meeting some resistance when she tried to slide the thermometer into the bird’s breast. This sure looked easier when Grandma Kit handled it.

  “Clancy’s. They had a pile of them.”

  She eyed the pan, the kind good for one meal. “My grandmother’s roasting pan was big and battered with a metal rack inside.”

  “Right. Like my mother’s.” Will looked baffled. “This should work, right?”

  How would she know? “Guess so. I picked up the rest of the meal.” She motioned to the stacked cans. And then it hit her.

  “Oh, my gosh, Will. I forgot the potatoes. I’m such an idiot.”

  “Hey, don’t ever say that.” Taking her shoulders, he gave her a little shake. “Trust me, your IQ isn’t measured by whether or not you remember the potatoes. Do we have gravy?”

  Will looked so darn serious, she had to laugh. They were two grown adults about to be defeated by a turkey. “Yessir. If you say so.”

  “Are you laughing at me?” Picking up a can opener, he waved it. “Let me show my true talents.”

  “Believe it or not, this is something I can do.” Whisking the opener away, she worked on the cans of cranberry sauce while Will stuck the bird into the oven. The door creaked when he closed it.

  “Aren’t you supposed to heat the oven for a while?”

  Will shrugged. “You got me. My mother usually worked on the dinner with my sister Delinda. Dad and I tended the fireplace and watched football.”

  She turned to him in mock horror. “Well, Will. You stinker. Thought you were the expert.”

  He threw her a wry smile. “Now I wish I’d paid more attention.”

  Coming closer, he tipped his head until his nose nudged hers. “Sorry, I don’t even have a fireplace for you to tend,” she whispered.