“I can’t believe what a pain it turned out to be.”
“It would have been half the pain if Mr. Wasilewski didn’t yell at us every time we used a power tool.”
“In his defense, you guys did knock out power when he was in the shower.” Mr. Wasilewski lived in the apartment above the new business.
“We tripped a breaker. And we had it fixed before he came flying down the stairs in a towel.” Judd shuddered. “That’s a mental image I can’t erase.”
“Ack! You didn’t tell me that.” Wynn covered her eyes. “Now I’m seeing it too. Thanks a lot.”
He laughed.
Wynn cocked her head and put her finger over her lips silencing Judd’s laughter. Giggles sounded straight ahead. She stepped lighter, creeping up on the turn, Judd right behind her. He made less sound than she did, his big boots not even crunching the grass. She held up three fingers, then dropped one, then the next, and then the last one. Drawing a deep breath, she pounced around the corner and tagged Laney’s shoulder. “You’re it.”
Adrenaline pushed through her veins, and she kicked it into gear and ran past Birdie, who swiped to tag her back. Behind her, Judd grunted and dodged too.
The race was on. She might have been tired, but Birdie couldn’t leave Laney behind or the tag wouldn’t count.
“There.” Judd put his hand on her back and gently pushed her toward an alcove. It was a dead end, a tiny space barely big enough for her to fit. It must have been a mistake in the design that the tractor driver couldn’t correct. Judd shoved in after her, his back to the opening.
“Judd.” She wiggled, hemmed in by itchy, dry corn husks and his body.
“Shh.” He put his arms around her and stepped closer, looking over his shoulder. The scent of dryer sheets and sawdust filled her nose, followed quickly by something that was unique to Judd, a manliness that woke up parts of her she hadn’t known existed anymore. Her hands splayed on his sweater, all soft and well-worn, as she contemplated pushing him back into the alley versus burying her nose in his neck. Dang, he smelled so good. The kind of good that got people into trouble.
Laney approached, telling Birdie that she wanted to be a princess for Halloween. Judd tucked in tighter, his cheek brushing Wynn’s as he tried to shield her from view. Wynn’s hand went up his neck and rested against his pounding pulse, a heartbeat to match her own. Her breathing became heavy and fast—not the kind of breathlessness that came from running through a maze, but the type that preceded something wonderful.
Laney and Birdie passed, and a few seconds later, Judd pulled back to look at Wynn. “I think we’re safe.” His eyes took her in, running across her face and landing on her lips.
Heat swirled inside of her in a delicious and totally new way, and she almost whimpered. The sound built so quickly that she had to bite her tongue to keep it from escaping. They were not safe. She wasn’t safe in his arms—not when so many feelings happened all at once. She would careen out of control.
Judd lifted his eyes to meet hers. Maybe he saw the panic. Maybe he realized what a precarious situation they were suddenly in with his arms around her and her chest heaving like some regency romance heroine.
Or maybe he didn’t feel the same way.
Whatever the reason, he backed up. Turning away from her so he could check the path for the kids, he grabbed her hand. “Come on. If we can make it to the end before we’re tagged, we’ll win.” He tugged, and she followed on unsteady feet. Her knees were weak, and she wobbled like a toddler learning to walk.
It was a good thing that he knew the way, because Wynn’s thoughts were stuck back in that cubby. What in the world had happened? Had she really considered kissing Judd? No. There hadn’t been a single solitary thought in her brain at the time. She’d just … felt. And what amazing things to feel. She’d been married, had two kids, but nothing prepared her for the surge of longing that pooled in her lower belly when Judd pulled her close.
Alive. That was it. She’d felt so alive.
Losing Thatcher wasn’t a surprise, but a part of her lay in the grave with him. That was normal, according to the articles she’d read and the other widows she’d spoken too. So was her desire to be single—especially after caring for Thatcher’s private physical needs for months. Taking that on again would be too much for this life.
Doing the craft fair brought to light a part of herself she hadn’t known existed. In high school, when asked what she wanted to be, she always said a mom. It wasn’t the popular answer—school counselors frowned and shook their heads. But she couldn’t lie. So the need and desire to have a business seemed to come out of the blue.
Yet it was the right path. That was certain.
So what the heck was this thing with Judd? She glanced down at their entwined fingers, hardly believing they were locked together like that. They stumbled to the finish line, and a scream pierced the air and her brain fog. She dropped Judd’s hand and ducked her head so she didn’t have to look at him.
Birdie and Laney hit the finish line, their hands raised in triumph. Anders and Miles were right on their heels.
“We won!” Laney clapped.
Birdie picked her up and spun around, making Laney laugh. “You were so fast.”
“We call a rematch,” said Anders, his hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath. “After I get some cider, I’m going to get you, Birdie. That was sneaky.”
Birdie laughed too. “You’ll have to catch me first, old man.” She sidestepped his hand. “Oh—can’t catch me.”
Wynn grinned. “You two are horrible examples for my children.” The adults turned to see Miles and Laney watching their aunt and uncle horse around, their mouths hanging slightly open. “But I love it. Come on; cider is on me.” She placed her arm around her daughter and used Laney as a shield between her and Judd. She needed some space to figure out what was going on with her.
