By the end of the next day, I was cranky and exhausted. It seemed like I had twice as much stuff as I remembered, and the unpacking seemed endless. Box after box after box, because I was determined to get it done and not live with boxes in my house for days and weeks on end.
Thankfully, the movers had been fantastic. They’d placed every box and piece of furniture exactly where I’d asked. They had to leave my bedroom furniture and mattresses at the end of the upstairs hallway, though, because I had yet to move Grandma’s furniture and all her other stuff out of the master bedroom.
I was still dreading that process and in no hurry to get to it.
Once the movers were gone, I’d spent the rest of the afternoon and a good share of the evening working in the kitchen and my “temporary” bedroom and bath. All but a few of the boxes that had been taken to those rooms were now empty and broken down, ready to be hauled away.
After that I moved on to the living room, where I further exhausted myself by moving all the furniture I wanted to donate into the dining room—which had the most empty space—and then shoving all the other furniture around and around, trying to come up with an acceptable arrangement that blended my own things with the special pieces of Grandma’s that I wanted to keep. Which I soon discovered was no easy task.
By the time I was satisfied with the furniture placement, it was nine o’clock. I was starving, due to forgetting all about lunch and dinner, but I was simply too tired to go to the trouble of finding something to eat.
I sank down onto my couch, a brown leather one I’d had for years and still loved because it was insanely comfortable. It looked surprisingly good beside Grandma’s wingback, and I gave a tired smile. It had been a lot of work, but I liked seeing the combination of my things and hers.
I closed my eyes and willed my stiff shoulders and back to relax. A long soak in the tub would be delightful, but that would mean climbing the stairs, and I felt like that was beyond me at this point. I might just have to crash on the couch in my clothes tonight.
My phone buzzed with a text and I groaned as I reached over to get it off the side table. My arm was weak and trembling, and the phone felt like it weighed five pounds. I’d definitely overdone it today, and I really needed to eat something.
I propped the phone on the armrest and forced my bleary eyes to focus on the screen. The sender was showing as “Unknown,” but when I read the text, I knew exactly who it was.
It took me forever to find you in my contacts. You’re wrong, you know. You really are adorable.
I grinned. I’d forgotten all about naming myself “Not Adorable” when I put my number into Jude’s phone. Was that only last night? Wow….it seemed much longer ago.
I quickly typed a response. I prefer your list of more grown-up adjectives.
You’re still those, too. How’d the unpacking go?
Good but there was waaaaaaaay too much of it.
I sent you some info on the doors earlier. I figured you were too busy to look at it.
I didn’t check my email. I’ll look tomorrow. Thanks.
Are you still emptying boxes?
No, I’m all but passed out on my couch.
Are you too tired to come to the back door? I’m standing on your deck.
As my heart began its Jude-induced pitter-pattering, I immediately felt myself perk up mentally. My body, however, still had no desire to move.
I don’t think I can walk that far. It’s not locked. Come on in.
I heard the door open and close, then his footsteps. I sat up a little straighter and suddenly realized how awful I must look. My hair was piled in a messy bun on top of my head—and I don’t mean the stylish, artful kind of messy bun, either. Mine was just plain messy. I also didn’t have on a lick of makeup, my pink tank top and navy shorts were dusty and wrinkled, and I’d done my share of sweating during my furniture moving activities.
Darn. I was pretty sure Jude was going to take back his claim that I was adorable, but there was no help for it now.
I looked over when I heard the footsteps move from the tile of the kitchen to the hardwood of the living room. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, even though I was jealous because he looked mouthwateringly good and I looked so, so bad.
“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes moving swiftly over me. He grinned and I got the distinct impression he didn’t mind my disheveled state as much as I’d feared. “Think maybe you overdid it a bit?”
“I know I did, but there was so much to do, and I’m no good at pacing myself.” I covered a yawn. “I’ll be fine after some ibuprofen and a good night’s sleep.”
He held up a grocery store bag. “Would ice cream help?”
I closed my eyes and sighed contentedly. “Sounds heavenly. I skipped lunch and dinner both.” I started to get up, but he motioned for me to stay put.
“Don’t move, Ava. I’ll go get bowls and spoons. Unless you’d rather not have me snooping around in your kitchen?”
“If you bring me ice cream, you can snoop around any time you want,” I stated, making him smile.
He put the bag down on my coffee table. “I’ll be right back.”
He was gone longer than it should take to find the bowls. I was just about to call out to see if he needed help when he returned. He not only had bowls and spoons, but a plate holding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and half an apple, along with a glass of iced tea.
“A girl can’t live on ice cream alone,” he said, handing me the plate.”
“Thanks,” I said a little thickly, awed by his thoughtfulness.
He reached in his pocket and brought out the bottle of ibuprofen I kept on my window sill. He shook out two and handed them to me.
“Do you need me to feed you?” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling as he settled onto the couch beside me.
“I can manage,” I said, taking the pills before I bit into the sandwich. I chewed, swallowed, and grinned at him. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“No surprise there,” he said cockily. “I’m pretty much the master of PB&Js.”
I laughed and kept eating. It really did taste wonderful, and he was right. I needed more than just ice cream after the day I’d had.
When my plate was empty, he dished up the ice cream. I chose the cherry nut, and he went with chocolate peanut butter cup. I already had more energy, and pretty soon I was telling him all about how my day had gone. Then I remembered he said he sent me some door options, and I grabbed my phone to bring up his email.
“You can see them better on a bigger screen,” he said. “Do you have a tablet somewhere?”
I had to laugh. “I know I told you I have a ton of high-tech computer equipment, but believe it or not, I didn’t bring a single piece of it with me. Not even my personal iPad. I knew if I had anything here, I’d get sucked into working instead of getting things done on the house.”
He gave me a wry look. “You’re not suffering from withdrawal?”
“Just a few tics and jitters,” I said, grinning as I set my empty bowl on the table and started tapping on my phone.
“Here. Mine’s bigger and I’ve got the door stuff saved.”
He pulled his own phone from his pocket and scooted a little closer to me. I leaned back and waited for him to find the door information. A moment later he settled back beside me and opened the links to the three doors he’d narrowed it down to. We leaned in toward each other until my shoulder was pressed up against his and our heads were close together against the back of the couch.
And I promptly forgot all about the doors, my sore, tired body, and everything else. Holy cow. He smelled so good. And his arm against mine felt so good. He was saying something, but the words didn’t even register. I just wanted to breathe him in. Bask in the nearness and warmth of his long, strong body.
I suddenly realized he’d gone quiet and I turned my face toward him, wondering what I’d missed. He raised his brows questioningly and I frowned.
“Did you ask me something?”
“Mm-hmm. Twice.”
His face was tantalizingly close to mine, and my heart decided to get in another quick workout.
“Sorry,” I said, flustered. “My mind was wandering.”
He paused a beat before asking the obvious. “Where to?”
I tried to cover. “Um, furniture placement. Do you think that little table with the family photos would look better between the windows, instead of where I have it there on the other wall?”
His low chuckle told me he wasn’t buying it. “No, Ava, I think the table looks just fine where you have it.”
I grinned. “Do you really think so? Because the placement has me really, really distracted.”
“You’re sure it’s the table?”
“Pretty sure.” I cleared my throat and gave myself a hard mental shake, because I didn’t want him to think I was hinting around for something. Even though I totally was. “Okay. So. Back to the matter at hand. What was the question?”
He grunted. “I don’t remember. I got distracted….by the table.”
I giggled and reluctantly pushed away from him, moving to the edge of the couch. “I think maybe we’d better continue the discussion about the doors at a later date. I’m too tired to make a good decision tonight.”
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” he asked. “More unpacking and furniture arranging?”
“Maybe later on, but I’ll be at Hidden Creek United Methodist Church in the morning. Grandma’s friends know I’m in town, and they’ll come to check on me if I don’t show up.”
“Methodist, huh? I go to New Horizons. It’s a nondenominational church just east of town.”
I was thrilled to hear he attended church, and I’d heard good things about New Horizons from Grandma. Which was saying a lot, because in her opinion, few churches could even come close to measuring up to her own beloved congregation.
“Did you go there before you moved in with Chase?”
“Yeah, I’ve been there for almost two years. It’s worth the drive from Mountain View.” He pushed to his feet. “What time does your church let out?”
“Eleven-thirty.” I hoped he was asking because he wanted to coordinate something. With me. Together.
“Same for Horizons. How about I pick you up here at noon and we head to Mountain View? I’ll take you to lunch, then up to my cabin, if you’re interested in seeing it. The hardwood floor started going in yesterday and I’d like to check it out.” He gave me his signature slow smile. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you think you’ll be recovered by then.”
I didn’t even try to stop my own smile. “I’d love to see your place, Jude. I’ll be ready at noon.”
“Great.” He gave my knee a pat, then stood. “I’ll get out of here so you can go to bed.”
“Can’t I just sleep here?” I mumbled, fighting another yawn.
“No. You’ll sleep better in your bed.”
He held out a hand and wiggled his fingers. I sighed dramatically and let him pull me up, groaning softly when my muscles protested.
“I’ll let myself out and lock the door,” he said. “You go straight to bed, okay?”
I rolled my shoulders slowly. “I might take a hot bath first, now that I’m up anyway. But then I’ll go to bed. No more work for me today.”
He nodded approvingly. “Sleep well, Ava.”
“I will. Thanks so much for feeding me. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon.”
“I’ll be here,” he promised.
I watched him go, then thanked the good Lord above, right then and there, for bringing me to 5201 Apple Tree Drive, Hidden Creek, Tennessee.