I tried to turn away from the compliment, but he held me firm. I had no choice but to watch his face. His mouth softened and he put the back of his hand on my cheek and stroked. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. I felt like every nerve of my body was exposed, and only his fingertips could restore me.
“I wish I could have been there for you,” he said quietly.
I opened my eyes and grinned at him. “You were, in a way.”
His head tilt reminded me of a dog whose supper is cold kibble instead of the steak off the grill. I laughed.
“I conjured you up, just when I needed the most strength. I pictured that old goal we had in the side yard. All those years practicing my corner kicks paid off. Those quilt stands didn’t stand a chance.”
Buster’s smile faded and he hooked a hair behind my ear.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said. “Not with me.”
“Do what?”
“Act tough.”
“I’m not,” I protested.
“I’ve been down a dark alley with a suspect. It’s a very scary place to be. You can either stand up to the evil or run away. You stood up to Myra. It takes a certain kind of person to do that. You …”
He caught his breath and tried to turn away. I reached up and held his face toward me. The sight of his eyes filling up with tears was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. I felt my knees weaken and stiffened them in defense. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. Sex with Buster was great. That I knew. It was the out-of-bed time we had to figure out.
“I wanted to protect you, Dewey.”
I flicked his tears away. He grabbed my hand and kissed my palm. I felt the tingle all the way down to my toes.
“You don’t need to protect me,” I said.
“That’s a hard pill to swallow.”
“It’s true, though, and you know it.”
He was quiet for a moment, just holding my hand.
“I never said thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
“For being with Mom when she passed.”
“But I let that bastard …”
I held my finger to his mouth. “You’ll find him.”
He turned and looked at the quilt show beyond the booth. Volunteers were gently lifting the quilts from their stands, folding them onto waiting sheets. It was hard to imagine last night’s chaos.
“I never did get to see the quilts,” Buster said.
“You missed your chance.”
“I understand there were some works of art.”
“There were some real beauties,” I agreed.
“Of course, I wouldn’t know a good quilt from a bad one. Maybe you could teach me.”
“Sure, I could show you the difference between a Baltimore Album quilt and a free-motion embroidery collage.”
“Liar,” he said. “Did you understand anything you just said?
“Not a word,” I admitted. “But I’m going to have to learn.”
“You’re going to keep the shop, Dewey?”
“Yeah, Kym needs a job, and Vangie.”
“Is that the only reason?”
I could tell him. “My mother’s life was tied up in the shop. I have to find out if mine is, too.”
“She thought you were the best thing on earth.”
“I know.” And that knowledge was enough. It would have to be enough for the rest of my life.
“I hope we can remain friends,” Buster said tentatively, eyes straight ahead, staring at the quilt show. He rubbed my knuckles.
Friends? I wasn’t sure that was enough. “I need some wooing, you know.”
“Wooing?” His tongue tripped over the unfamiliar word. His eyes slid to mine. I struggled to keep a straight face. “What does that mean?”
“That means I’d like to go on a real date. With you picking me up at my door, and me—”
“Wearing a dress?”
“A dress?” A guy could dream. “I’m not even sure I own one.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“Too soon. If you want that dress, I’ll need time to shop.”
“Let’s not wait too long,” he said with a rasp in his voice that sent heat flowing through my body.
“Be warned—I never sleep with a guy on a first date.”
“Lucky for me, we never dated.”
Lucky for me, too.
“We could continue our guitar lessons,” he said, eyes dancing with mischief.
I looked into his big blue eyes, wondering what the future was. Guitar wasn’t the only thing we needed to learn. “Okay, but we’re going to have start over.”
The disappointment registered on Buster’s face for a split second, and I choked back a laugh. Was he remembering the note he’d left on the pillow, thanks for Lesson One?
“Come on,” Buster said. “We’ve …” he stumbled, searching for a word. “You’ve progressed farther than that.”
I shook my head. “I need to start at the beginning. Like, before the first lesson.”
“Before Lesson One?” he said, his voice cracking.
I nodded. “Let’s pretend I know nothing.”
Vangie and Kym approached, the dolly now empty. I dropped Buster’s hand. Kevin was right behind them. His face lit up in a big smile at the sight of his friend. He grabbed Buster. They man-hugged, bumping chests and patting backs.
“We should change the window display every month, Vangie,” Kym was saying.
“We? When was the last time you climbed the ladder?” Vangie answered.
I watched as Vangie and Kym argued. Kevin and Buster had their heads together, their low voices a counterpoint to the female bickering. I couldn’t contain the grin that seemed to start deep in my belly.
This was what my mother loved. Friends, family, quilts. I was right where I belonged.
THE END