Counting Stars (26 page)

Pete had no idea, but he intended to find out tonight.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Jane pulled the Jeep into the garage, unloaded her tools, and entered the house through the back door.

“Hi,” she called, walking into the kitchen. She bent to unlace her shoes, but not before her eyes caught a glimpse of the sparkling kitchen and her nose got a whiff of—
clean.

“We’re in here.” Pete’s hand waved to her from behind the bar. “How’d it go?”

“Really good,” Jane said, tugging off her sneaker. “We finished the Malones, and I got the other contract.”

“That’s great,” Pete called.

Jane left her shoes on the mat and walked toward the family room. She found Pete on the floor using Maddie’s teddy bear as his pillow.

“The house looks great,” she said, smiling as she looked around. The kitchen floor had been mopped, the family room vacuumed, and other than the small pile of toys that Mark and Madison were playing with, the whole house looked picked up.

“Do I pass?” Pete asked mischievously.

“Definitely.” Jane shrugged off her jacket and knelt on the floor beside Mark and Madison. “Hey guys.” She leaned forward, scooping them in a hug. “I missed you.”

Mark immediately grabbed for the hair that had come loose from her ponytail, but Madison clapped excitedly and made her happy, spitting noise—the latest in her speech accomplishments.

“Hey,” Jane said, turning her face away from Maddie’s mouth at the same time she tilted her head away from Mark. “Just pull my hair and spit on me. Nice greeting.” She hugged them both a second time, then leaned forward and set them back on the blanket.

Pete couldn’t help smiling as he watched Jane.
Buy her new socks,
he thought, noticing the holes in her heels as she bent over. She had her back to him, and as she bent to put the twins down again, his grin widened in appreciation of her curves. He thought she looked adorable with her holey socks, denim overalls, and messy ponytail. Jane turned to lean against the couch and caught Pete watching her. “What?” she asked warily. Her hand went to her hair and she tucked a few straying pieces behind her ear. “What are you thinking? I know I’m a mess.”

Pete shook his head. “Not at all. I was thinking you look very good in overalls.”

Jane laughed as she stood. “Thanks.
That’s
a compliment I’ve never received.” She picked up her jacket and went to the closet to hang it up. “Are you hungry? I can fix us something to eat.”

Pete sat up. “You haven’t had dinner?”

“No. We finished late, and I just wanted to get home.”

“You go shower. I’ll fix something.” Pete stood and went to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to,” Jane said. “I mean, you’re probably exhausted—either that or you hired a cleaning lady.”

“No to both of those,” Pete said. “And I
want
to fix you something.”

Jane looked at him questioningly, but he’d already turned around and was rummaging through the refrigerator. “All right,” she said at last, then headed toward her bedroom.

* * *

Jane pulled the towel from her head and shook her hair loose. She worked quickly, brushing out the tangles. She would have liked to blow her hair dry, but felt she’d already taken too long showering and cleaning all the dirt out from under her fingernails.

Normally she wouldn’t have thought too much about wet hair or her nails, but tonight—something made her care. The way Pete had looked at her . . . the things he’d said . . . Even more than that, it was the way she’d felt. An undercurrent of tension seemed to be running through the whole house, zipping back and forth between the two of them.

Yesterday morning things had just been comfortable. Jane was Jane. Pete was Pete. And they were both doing their jobs taking care of the twins. Jane wasn’t sure what had happened to make that change. She wasn’t sure she
wanted
it to change. A comfortable friendship was how she would have described the evolution of their relationship over the past month and a half. If they left that behind . . . then what?

Bending over the sink, she looked at her reflection critically in the mirror.
Average
stared back at her. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Roundish face. Nothing exciting about that. Hoping to improve what she could, Jane reached for her toothbrush and mascara. If nothing else, she could smile with confidence and bat her eyelashes if called upon. The idea was absurd, as was her mood, Jane decided as she brushed her teeth. She’d probably imagined the whole thing.

She carried her dirty clothes to the laundry room and tossed them in the hamper, noticing the key in the lock to the outside door.
Did Peter leave it there?
She hadn’t really expected him to have time to clean out Paul’s apartment. Curious, she opened the door and stepped outside. The door to the apartment was slightly ajar and, like her house, it smelled of pine-scented cleaner. Turning the light on, she went inside and was delighted to find the cupboards cleaned out and the closet completely empty. The dresser and nightstand were cleared off and had been dusted. The floor was vacuumed. Seeing a piece of paper on one of the pillows, she walked over for a closer look.

Jane,

Thank you for being such a great friend to my brother—and to me. Hope you like the apartment.

Pete

“Do you like your surprise?”

Startled by his voice, Jane jumped. The paper fluttered to the floor. She turned to find Pete—wearing one of her aprons—leaning against the doorframe.

He looked at the bed. “Now that it’s clean, I guess I can sleep over whenever I want.”

“Uh—”

He grinned. “Just kidding.”

Is he?
Jane experienced a moment of panic as she bent to retrieve the fallen paper. Paul had lived here, but somehow the thought of Peter spending even one night in such close proximity seemed entirely different.

“The place looks really great.” She straightened, biting back a laugh as she took in Pete’s appearance. “You look good too. Maybe you should wear pink more often.”

“You’re just trying to get me to cook more,” Pete accused. “First you abandon me to diapers and feedings, then, next thing you know, I’m slaving away at the stove.”

“
You
offered.” Jane’s hands went to her hips.

“I know.” His grin widened. “Come and get it while it’s hot.”

Jane turned the light off and followed him outside. “What are we having?”

“My one and only specialty,” he called.

Feeling off-kilter, as she had since coming home forty-five minutes ago, she followed him back to the house and into the kitchen. “Do I smell—breakfast?”

“You do.” Pete carried a steaming plate to the table. “I was planning to come over and make you breakfast tomorrow morning—since you’re always feeding me—but I decided we could just as well have it tonight.”

“It smells heavenly.” Jane took a seat at the table and offered the prayer.

“I didn’t know I had any bacon. Did you go shopping?”

Pete nodded. “Yes I did, brave man that I am.”

“I’ll say.” Jane looked at him in admiration. “And tell me, how was it, shopping by yourself with two babies?” She poured herself a glass of orange juice.

“An adventure.” Pete set a plate of toast and the butter on the table. “I found one of those two-seater carts and stuffed blankets all around the sides. Everything was great until Mark grabbed Maddie’s hair.”

“Uh-oh,” Jane said over the rim of her glass.

“Uh-oh is right. I thought I might get arrested again, Maddie was screaming so loud.”

Jane laughed. “How did you calm her down?”

“Um . . .” Pete mumbled, then took a bite of his eggs.

Jane folded her arms and sat back in her chair. “
What
did you do?”

“Bacon?” Pete held the plate out to her.

She took a piece. “Let me guess. Some beautiful woman took pity and came to your rescue.”

He shook his head. “Actually, it was—”

“
More
than one woman? My goodness,” Jane said. “I’ll bet you had a whole gaggle of them following you around the store.”

“Nobody helped me,” Pete said. “Why would you think that?”

“Because it’s a well-known fact”—Jane waved her hand in the air—“that women find men with babies very attractive. I can only imagine with you having two . . .”

Pete took a bite of bacon and leaned forward over the table. “You never told me that men with babies are chick magnets.”

Jane grimaced. “I hate that term.”

“Chick magnets?” He grinned. “Sorry. Funny though, how you failed to mention such an important piece of information. Why, I could have gone to the park, or the mall, or . . .”

“I didn’t want to feed your ego.” Jane rolled her eyes.

“You think I
have
an ego after a month and a half with you?” Pete stabbed a bite of scrambled eggs with his fork. “I’ve been humbled to the depths by you, woman. It’s very hard for a guy who flies a multimillion dollar piece of machinery to admit he can’t change a diaper or snap a onesie correctly, or do any other number of things I’ve messed up.”

Jane laughed. “Yeah. You look real humble. I feel just terrible.” She reached for the plate of toast and the butter. “Now, fess up. If it wasn’t a woman, then how did you get Maddie to stop screaming? I know what it’s like when she gets going.”

Pete took another bite before answering. When his eyes finally met Jane’s, he looked chagrined. “I gave her a candy bar.”

“A
candy bar?
” Jane asked in disbelief. “Peter, she’s only nine months old!” Her eyes narrowed and she pointed the butter knife at him. “What kind? Were there nuts in it?”

“Three Musketeers. I’ve seen them around here, so I thought maybe she had a preference . . .” Seeing Jane’s exasperated look, he broke off. “I suppose those were for you.”

“Of course they were for me. I’ve
never
given anything like that to the twins.”

“Well then, that would explain it,” Pete said.

“What?” Jane asked again, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Now I know why they both preferred my Milky Way.”

* * *

“He’s finally asleep.” Pete let out an exhausted sigh as he sank onto the couch.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Jane said as she struggled to balance a set of plans and two open books on her lap. “You are officially relieved from weekend duty.” One of the books slid forward and she grabbed for it.

“Let me help.” Pete scooted next to her, taking one of the books and half the blueprints.

“Thanks,” Jane said again. “I’ll be done in a few minutes. I just need to get a quick overview of the yard so I can start thinking about the possibilities.”

“Does this mean you’ll be gone next weekend too?” Pete asked.

Jane looked up at him. “Oh no. I’m at least two months out on this one—probably three—before I get started. The Saunders will have to approve the final plans first—and if they’re anything like the Sweviecs or the Malones, that will take a month in itself. And after the plans are approved, I’ll need to line up the larger work I sub out.”

“What?” Pete teased. “You don’t have a backhoe hidden somewhere in that tool jungle you call a garage?”

“I wish. But alas.” She sighed. “That will have to wait much longer. Though I do have a marvelous drafting table now—thanks to Paul.”

“I’m glad it was put to good use. By the way, everything of his that I saved is packed in plastic boxes in my garage. Your garage seemed pretty crowded, but if you would rather have them here . . .

Jane shook her head.

“Well, if you ever want to go through any of it, just ask.”

“Okay. Thanks again for doing all that.” She began rolling up the plans. “Plastic was a good idea. It should keep out the moisture.”

“That’s what the beautiful woman who helped me at the store suggested,” Pete said.

Jane looked at him again, her mouth partly open. “
You
are—”

“Don’t say it. My ego, remember?”

Jane finished rolling the plans and made a point of hitting Pete on the legs before setting them on the floor. “I’ll take that book now.” She held out her hand and he returned it.

“Mind if I turn the TV on mute?”

“Go ahead,” Jane said. “I need to mark a few pages of some of the plants they liked.”

Pete turned the television on, and Jane continued to scan her landscape books, her mind already planning the layout of the Saunders’ yard. Beside her, Pete clicked the remote until he settled on the news.

She finished with one book and started on the second, noticing Pete made no move to return to the other end of the couch. They were sitting side by side, his shoulder next to hers, legs brushing up against each other.

Jane stared at her book, trying to refocus her attention to deciduous tree selection, but her mind was elsewhere. How long had it been since she’d sat close to a man like this?
Since Paul.

Memories of their movie nights, shared popcorn, and Scrabble games came flooding back. Her fingers stilled on the papers in her lap as she closed her eyes against the unexpected tide of sadness.

“Thinking about Paul?” Pete asked quietly.

Not trusting herself to speak, Jane looked up at him and nodded.

“I can always tell. You get that sad look in your eyes. It catches you off guard, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jane said, astonished at his perceptiveness.

“That’s the way it always is when you lose someone you love. Trust me, I’ve had plenty of experience.”

“Tell me,” she coaxed.

Pete turned the television off and set the remote aside. “Well, I can’t remember my father—he died in Vietnam—so I can’t say I’ve had those moments of intense memory and sorrow about him. But I still do with my mother—it happened a couple of times recently around
your
mom. Something just reminds me, you know?”

Jane nodded. She
did
know.

“And, of course, there’s Paul. Last night when I was going through his things, I was doing great until I found his letterman jacket. Then for some reason . . .” Pete shrugged.