“Because I have to move some things into storage, remember?”
“Okay. You go get Josh. And we’ll keep the meeting short.”
“Fine.” She turned to her mother. “I need to change my shirt. Can I borrow something?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFTER HER EXUBERANT ATTEMPT to get fit in one day, Rebecca could barely walk. And she’d seen all of Josh Hill she wanted to see. But if fetching him meant she could go home, move her furniture into storage and shower that much sooner, she was determined to do what had to be done.
Her family, except her mother, who stayed to watch over dinner, spilled out of the house behind her and milled around Randy’s Chevy pickup as she hobbled down the street. She could feel her brother-in-law’s interest, knew he was laughing at her, and wished she had the energy to turn and flip him off. But, in her bid for self-improvement, she was currently stifling such tendencies. And her father was standing right there, which helped a great deal with the old self-control. She doubted Doyle would buy the “I am what I am” routine. The one thing she didn’t want was to start him off on another of his “What’s this world coming to?” tirades.
Josh’s house had once looked huge, or at least daunting. Rebecca recalled sneaking over there as a child, her heart pounding with the anticipation of whatever mischief she was planning. She also remembered being caught a time or two by the formidable Mrs. Hill. Those memories loomed large in her mind.
But Josh’s mother had to be in her early sixties, Rebecca reminded herself. Surely, even gimpy, she could outrun her by now.
“Rebecca, get Mike, too, if he’s there,” her father called.
Rebecca threw a glance over her shoulder and nodded in acknowledgment. Randy was standing at the curb. He taunted her with a grin and a wave, so she threw back her shoulders and marched, as best she could, through the Wellses’ neatly tended yard, past an American flag, up the two steps of the green porch, and right to the front door.
Staring at a beautiful autumn wreath hanging at eye level, Rebecca punched the doorbell.
Josh’s father answered a moment later. “Well, if it isn’t the little girl from down the street. We haven’t seen you around our place for a few years—thank God,” he added under his breath, as though he thought she wouldn’t be able to hear him.
Rebecca raised her chin. “My father was wondering if Josh and Mike might be willing to help us lift something from the back of Randy’s truck.”
Larry Hill poked his head out of the house and looked down the street as though confirming what she’d said. Her father waved; he waved back. “Mike’s out of town on business for the weekend,” he said. “But I’ll help, and I’ll get Josh.”
“Who is it?” Mrs. Hill asked, coming up behind her husband as he moved away and left the door ajar.
Rebecca heard Larry say her name.
“Well, for heaven’s sake, don’t leave her unattended. You never know what she might do,” she snapped and promptly appeared in the doorway.
Rebecca cleared her throat and attempted polite conversation. “Hello, Mrs. Hill. The weather’s sure been beautiful this fall, hasn’t it?”
“What happened to you?” she responded, eyeing the dirt on Rebecca’s sweat-streaked legs. “You look like hell.”
REBECCA AGAIN. Josh couldn’t believe it. After several years of relative tranquility, she’d burst back into his life, and now she seemed to be around every corner.
He and his father followed her down to her parents’ house without speaking, Josh determined to remain more aloof during this encounter. He’d embarrassed himself by letting her know how badly she was getting to him when he dumped her in his truck; he wasn’t about to regress to the point where the frustration he felt in her presence boiled out of him again.
Fortunately, the moment he reached Doyle’s yard, Randy clapped him on the back and drew him into a conversation about the University of Utah and the potential of their football team this year. Josh thought he’d be able to ignore Rebecca completely, but then he caught sight of something that kicked his gut into his throat. She’d changed out of her sweaty T-shirt and into a long-sleeved white shirt she’d probably borrowed from her mother, judging by its size. The ends were tied an inch or so above her navel, revealing not only her butterfly tattoo but a wide swath of flat tan tummy. And when she turned right, he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her ni**les were standing erect, probably stimulated by the light chafing of the fabric when she moved.
Josh felt his throat go dry. Mary had a compact body with large, full br**sts and was certainly more amenable to sharing. But just now, her br**sts seemed far less appealing….
“Josh? Are you going to answer me?” Randy asked.
Josh jerked his attention away from Rebecca’s blouse and searched his recent memory for a fragment of what Randy had asked him. When he came up blank, he said, “Sorry, my mom wants us to hurry back for dinner. We’d better get to that wedding arch.”
“Are you feeling okay, buddy?” Randy asked.
Josh shrugged. “Sure. Why?”
His friend’s eyebrows knitted as he nodded at Rebecca, who was standing by her sister. “Is it Rebecca? She just went jogging,” he explained. “That’s why she looks so bad.”
Problem was, she didn’t look bad. Not to Josh. She looked better than an ice-cold beer in the worst summer heat, despite her sweaty hair, lack of makeup, their history, everything.
“Can we get this thing unloaded?” Rebecca asked everyone, her voice tinged with impatience. “I have a lot to do today.”
“Just what are you planning to move into storage?” Greta asked her as they all converged on Randy’s truck.
“My furniture.”
“Already? The wedding’s still six weeks away.”
Rebecca didn’t answer.
“Who’s going to help you?” Greta asked.
Rebecca’s gaze slid quickly past Josh and fixed on Randy. “Randy’s got to be good for something.”
“Sorry, sweetcakes, I’m good for a lot of things. But I can’t help you today.” He put down the tailgate of his pickup. “After we leave here, I’ve got a Scout meeting.”
“He’s the den leader,” Greta added, as though that designated him a pretty important person.
Rebecca looked like she was about to make some type of comment, but Doyle diverted her attention.