I winced as I buried my face in his shoulder. Joe smelled of paint and wood shavings, and maybe faintly of dog. Like the scent of home.
“You could have been killed tonight,” he whispered into my hair. “That scared the hell out of me.”
Me, too.
“I’ll be fine.” I looked up and forced a smile for him. “You know what, Joe, you worry too much.”
“Very funny, Daisy. But I’m not kidding. Enough is enough.”
Joe never insisted on anything, usually letting me have my own way, so I knew when he was rattled or angry, it was time to pay attention. When Sarah was a child, I could scream and yell at her all day long, but if Joe so much as raised his voice one iota above its usual calm level, she’d burst into tears.
“Promise me?”
I took a deep breath, feeling my heart twist at the thought of abandoning Angus to his fate. The only bright spot was that Detective Serrano seemed as though he was capable of taking care of things the right way.
“Promise,” I mumbled.
“Good. Now let’s celebrate the fact that you’re still in one piece.” Joe’s voice was a tad husky. He pulled a bottle of champagne out of the refrigerator, and as I watched him open the top carefully, I looked around the kitchen again, admiring all he had done.
“Hey, Joe. Do you think we have room for an island in here?”
“Sure. I was thinking that myself. Easy enough if we don’t add any plumbing. Some more prep space would be nice, and maybe some shelves at the ends for cookbooks?”
The champagne popped open, fizzed over the top, and a couple of drops landed on the floor. Jasper licked them up before either of us could move.
“Clean up on aisle three.” I shook my head in despair. I hoped a small amount of champagne wouldn’t hurt him. Jasper caught my eye and waved his tail slowly. He looked beat. He must have been charging around the whole day, getting in everyone’s way.
“I suppose I should thank you, you little monster,” I said to him. “I wanted new hardwood floors forever and never got them, but now I have.”
I clinked glasses with my husband. “And thank you, Joe. Everything you’ve picked is just right for our kitchen and the house. I can’t believe you got so much done already.”
“Peter was a big help. Sarah, too.”
“I like him so much, Joe. I think he might be The One.”
“Don’t go jumping the gun now.”
We both winced at the same time.
“Sorry,” Joe said. “Speaking of Peter and Sarah, where are they?”
“They were going to grab a late dinner, and then Sarah’s staying at the Four Foxes with him tonight.”
Joe frowned. “Overnight? I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Joe!” I chuckled. “She’s twenty-six! Besides, it means we have the house to ourselves.”
I slid my arms around his neck. I watched his eyes darken as I pressed closer to fit even more intimately against his body. “I need to take a shower first,” I whispered.
“I’ll help,” he offered.
A few minutes later, I was standing under warm, healing water, the stress and anxiety of the night washing away, feeling Joe’s hands slowly caress my wet skin.
Suddenly I wasn’t tired at all.
*
“The next morning, after a lazy hour in bed talking and reading the paper, we took Jasper for a walk and then decided to go for a bike ride and stop by the house auction on Swamp Pike. I’d have to skip going to the prison today. Joe and I were finally connecting again, and I knew there was no way I could suggest it without him going ballistic.
I’d have to see Angus on Wednesday, the next visiting day. I sighed as I buckled my helmet. He’d think I’d deserted him, just like everyone else.
We rode down to the end of Main Street, past the bicycle shop, which was already doing a booming business. I waved to Chris Paxson, who was outside adjusting the seat on a new mountain bike for a prospective customer. Sweet Mabel’s, the ice cream shop housed in a Victorian confection with gingerbread trim painted a happy teal, purple, and yellow, was also packed. People were sitting at the tables outside or wandering up Main Street licking at overflowing cones. It was going to be another hot one today. The temperature already felt like it was in the high eighties.
We took a left up Grist Mill Road, past the little bridge, and then pedaled off the road, bumping over a well-worn trail that led to the old canal towpath. We rode for a couple of miles, enjoying the cool shade of the trees and the silence only interspersed by the gurgling splash of the water over brown gleaming rocks, the rapping of a woodpecker against the trunk of a tree, or the call of a yellow warbler. Sweet, sweet, I’m so sweet. The canal path veered away from River Road, and we’d passed the point where it would intersect with Sheepville Pike.