His back was to her as he walked through the door from the porch into the house, his broad-shouldered silhouette barely fitting through the frame. He walked away from her without a backward glance.

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

“I do like a table set for four,” Sheila chirped the next morning. She added cutlery next to the cheery yellow plates and rolled napkins adorned with daisy napkin rings. “Now where’s Parr?”

Mary Beth had gone out early with the dogs, who’d ambled around and sniffed the property. She’d been sort of surprised to see his truck still parked there.

Sheila had offered him the finished room in the basement, which allowed him to move about without being heard by the women on the second floor. Parr had agreed. Mary Beth had thought that he might seize the opportunity to leave before any of them awoke.

Okay. He was here. She hadn’t blown it with her inquisitive questions and boldness otherwise, unusual for her.

“Did you sleep well, Mary Beth?” Alma was in robe and curlers again, standing at the stove with a spatula in her hand, keeping an eye on a frying pan full of scrambled eggs.

The toast popped up, startling Mary Beth. “Yes,” she fibbed. “Just fine.”

“Would you go down and rouse Parr?” Sheila asked. “We’re about ready to eat.”

“Sure.”

Mary Beth left the kitchen and went a few steps down the basement stairs, no further. “Rise and shine,” she called.

“I’m up,” Parr said.

She retreated.

Breakfast was over with quickly, and Mary Beth volunteered for the dishes. There weren’t enough of them to run the dishwasher and she needed something to do.

Parr excused himself. The other two women disappeared to their respective haunts: Sheila to her first-floor study and Alma upstairs to fix her hair.

Mary Beth prepared a dishpan of sudsy water and did the juice glasses first, setting them in the second sink to be rinsed. The plates went in next. Actually, she dropped them, making a splash that soaked the front of her apron.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

Parr’s hands had taken her by the waist. He let go but only to slip his arms around her instead. “No one’s looking.”

“That doesn’t matter.” She fumbled in the dishwater for the scrubber.

He bent his head, putting his lips right next to her ear. Just his breath was arousing. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

“Nothing happened,” she answered, grabbing for a slippery plate.

Sad but true in more ways than one. Was he going to apologize for that? Undoubtedly not.

“You caught me off guard,” he said. He nuzzled her neck.

“Stop that.”

Parr sighed and lifted his head. “Can I get a do-over?”

“I’m not sure how you define the word, Parr.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’ll have to do.” She put three scrubbed plates into the rinsing sink. “Now let go of me.”