a-soft-place-to-fall - Rakhibul hasan (story books to read .TXT) 📗

days of somber deliberation. Sometimes a man just got lucky and his dog made the decision for him. The woman with the sad blue eyes had cast a spell over both him and Max, and only the dog was smart enough to know they should wait around a while and see where it was headed.

Sam climbed into the truck and gunned the engine. He hoped the hardware store opened early.

#

Once Annie's stomach finally decided to quit doing somersaults, she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and was about to leave the bathroom when she noticed her beautiful green robe hanging over the shower rod. The sight sent a chill up her spine.

Half of the sash was charred black, as was a six-inch swath on the right side of the robe. Annie's fingers trembled as she folded the robe and tossed it in tiny trash can next to the sink. How many floral arrangements had she sold over the years meant for victims of house fires? The number was well into triple digits. A misplaced cigarette. Faulty wiring. Candles left unattended.

An idiot woman with too much champagne and too little common sense.

He hadn't exaggerated. If anything, he had soft-pedaled the story. The man had saved her life – yes, probably saved it twice if her hangover was any indication of her level of inebriation – and she had railed at him as if he'd committed a crime against humanity. So what if he had seen her naked. The sight of her unclothed body was hardly likely to send him into a fit of wild desire. The man had been too busy keeping her from either going up in flames or underwater to waste any time on lust.

At the very least she owed him an apology, not to mention a home-cooked breakfast. He wasn't in the living room, the bedroom, or the kitchen. The spare room was

stacked high with boxes, some of which he'd used to hold the front door in place. An engine roared to life in her driveway and she flew out the back door in time to see him turn the corner and disappear.

Great going, Galloway. The man saves your life and you send him packing.

She started back inside, shivering in the brisk morning air. It was probably for the best. She had more on her plate these days than she could handle. Besides, he might be married with five kids, just like she'd imagined yesterday in the parking lot. He could just imagine the story he would tell his wife. Yeah, she finally woke up and can you believe it? She didn't even bother to thank me for saving her life.

"Idiot," she muttered to herself as she climbed the three stairs that led to the back door. Why was she getting herself all tied up in knots over a stranger? It must be last night's champagne that had her emotions rippling so close to the surface. She wasn't one of those women whose eyes teared up over babies and kittens and sappy love songs. She drew her arm across her eyes, wetting the sleeve of his shirt. It smelled like him, a touch of citrus, a touch of spice, a touch of something indefinable. Her bed probably smelled like him too. The thought made her go weak in the knees.

So do a load of wash and put yourself out of your misery.

There was nothing like housework to bring a woman back down to earth. A capful of Tide and some hot water and these ridiculous fantasies would be history. She reached for the doorknob and heard a joyous bark. Max? It couldn't be! She turned in time to see the yellow Lab bounding around the corner of the house, headed straight in her direction. He leaped against her, almost knocking her into the kitchen with the force of his affections. Every excited yip was like nails on a blackboard but she'd never been happier to feel more miserable in her life.

If Max was still here, that meant Max's owner would be coming back and she would be able to thank him properly for saving her life. And she wouldn't even be naked.

She settled Max in the living room with a half slice of leftover pizza, cleaned George and Gracie's litterbox, then set out to perform a miracle. It was going to take every trick in her beauty arsenal to erase the effects of the night before but she was determined to give it her best shot. She hadn't devoured all those issues of Vogue and In Style magazines for nothing.

Ceil's comments about her well-padded form still stung. She rooted through the pile of clothes on her bed in search of something that would make her round body look long and skinny. George and Gracie watched from their perch on the window sill as the bed all but disappeared beneath a mountain of discards. She finally managed to dig up a flattering pair of black bootleg pants and her favorite red sweater, the one that hung long enough to camouflage those treacherous hips and thighs.

She wrote down "full length mirror" on a notepad and underlined it twice. Standing on the closed toilet seat to see her reflection in the bathroom mirror would get old very fast. She put the finishing touches on her hair. Not great, she thought, but adequate. Her hair was still long and it was still curly and it would probably always look like an untended garden. She pressed her hand on the top of her head in an attempt to flatten some of the puffy places but they sprang back the second she let go. She had been born with big hair and she would die with big hair.

Annie popped an Altoid in her mouth then peeked out the living room window. Maybe he had left Max behind as a housewarming present.

At 8:22, Annie told herself to get away from the window and do something useful. A few dozen cardboard boxes waited in the spare room, clamoring for her attention. It wouldn't hurt to unpack a few while she waited. Besides, that would put the whole ridiculous thing into perspective. Oh hi, she would say when he finally showed up. I was so busy that I didn't even realize you were gone.

At 8:40, she refilled George and Gracie's water dishes, replenished their supplies of cat chow, then gathered up her tote bag, wallet, and extra sweater and headed for the back door. She might as well go to work. She didn't have time to do the front door repair herself but it would hold until evening.

"How do you feel about flower shops?" she asked Max. He could be the store mascot as long as he didn't find blossoms as appetizing as pepperoni pizza.

Max cocked an ear and barked.

Annie winced. "Max, if you knew about hangovers, you wouldn't do that to me." Max wagged his tail and barked again, three times in quick succession, then ran to

the front door as a black Trooper with New York plates came to a stop at the edge of her driveway.

She opened the back door and Max burst out in a frenzy of barking and what she assumed to be the canine equivalent of high-fives as his owner rounded the corner of the house.

"I'm sorry," she said, meeting him halfway. The words tumbled out of her unchecked. "You really did save my life. I don't know how I can ever thank you for what you did." Not the elegant response she had planned but at least it was heartfelt.

He stopped a few feet away from her. He held two large white paper bags aloft and out of Max's reach. "How're you feeling?" His manner was a little subdued and who could blame him. She hadn't exactly been Miss Congeniality so far this morning.

"I'll live, but I doubt I'll be drinking champagne again anytime soon." "You might think twice about the candles too."

She shivered at the memory of her ruined robe. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there."

"Max sounded the alarm," he said, neatly sidestepping her gratitude. "He ran up to your front porch and tried to scratch his way through the door." He told her about the red glow behind the bathroom window and the smell of smoke. "So far I've managed to trash the inside of your car and wreck your front door. That's one hell of an introduction to your new neighbor."

The fishing rods in the back of the truck. The New York State license plates. The fact that he even knew Bancroft Road existed. "You're Warren's friend?"

"Guilty."

"I thought you were old and retired." "I thought you were just old."

"Annie Galloway," she said, extending her right hand over Max's furry yellow head. "I own Annie's Flowers in town."

"Sam Butler." He hesitated just long enough for her to notice. "On sabbatical." "So you're not retired."

"At thirty-five?" His quick burst of laughter was tinged with something dark. "Nothing that permanent."

Their hands were still clasped tightly. Neither one was willing to be the first to break the contact. An edgy current of warmth seemed to move between them. Since Kevin's death, other men had approached her -- good-looking men, kind men, interesting men, men she had known and liked forever -- but not one of them had ever made her feel she wanted to bury her face against his chest and breathe deeply.

You did that last night, don't you remember? You slept with your nose pressed against the side of his neck and he held you and wouldn't let go.

She liked the way his hand felt clasping hers. So solid and warm. His fingers were rough, a little callused. A workman's hands. Hands that would know their way around a woman's body.

Get a grip, Galloway. Just because there was a man in your bed last night doesn't mean there was a Man in your Bed. Save your fantasies for Friday nights and the Romance Channel.

But she met his eyes and something clicked into place and it was as if she had been waiting all her life for that moment. It was the difference between black-and-white and Technicolor except that it wasn't a movie; it was her life. One second she was living her life in the half-sleep that she'd called living for so long, and then the next second her

blood was bubbling through her veins and her temperature was rising and the world exploded in colors and sounds and smells she had all but forgotten existed. She knew there was no turning back, not even if she wanted to.

#

Sam probably would have stood there in the middle of her yard with her hand in his for a week or two if Max hadn't decided enough was enough. The dog made a running leap for one of the two white paper bags he had clutched in his left hand and it took some quick maneuvering to keep the donuts from going the way of last night's pepperoni pizzas.

"Good ol' Max," he said with a shake of his head and she laughed and reached for one of the bags.

"You went to Dee Dee's!" she said, peering inside.

"Me and everyone else in town. They were lined up out the door."

"If you think that's bad, you should see the line on Sunday morning. Father Luedtke threatened to say mass there one day. He thinks he'll triple attendance."

The soft approachable woman he'd first met in the parking lot of Yankee Shopper was back. He thought he'd lost her behind the slicked back hair and sleek outfit. Her wild mane was brushed back from her face and twisted into a heavy coil. Only a few wispy curls around her forehead and temples had managed to escape. Her lush curves were masked by black pants and a long red sweater with a metal zipper