Noah came toward her,
his gaze growing softer.â¦
âIâll call Aunt Arletta to let her know Iâll be home later,â Ivy murmured to fill the quiet. She rested against the doorway, her hands folded across her waist.
âAll right.â Noah stood very close. His breath fanned her cheek. His proximity unnerved her. It simply wasnât fair to have this reaction when he was soâ¦so unsuitable for her ten-year plan.
âShall we take my truck, or your car?â he asked with a mischievous grin. He placed his palm high against the door frame just above her head. The light in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat, and all she could think of was that kiss theyâd shared in the kitchen. How sweet his lips had felt on hersâ¦
How afterward sheâd vowed to never let him kiss her again.
She wouldnât let her heart get involved, Ivy told herself for the dozenth time.
She wouldnât allow herself to fall in love with Noah Thornton!
became serious about writing after sheâd raised her children. Until then, sheâd concentrated her life on being a June Cleaver-type wife and mother, spent years as a Bible student and teacher for teens and young adults, and led a weekly womenâs prayer group. When sheâd made a final wedding dress and her last child had left the nest, she declared to one and all that it was her turn to activate a dream. Thankfully her husband applauded her decision.
Ruth began school in an old-fashioned rural two-room schoolhouse and grew up in the days before television, giving substance to her notion that she still has one foot in the last century. However, active involvement with six rambunctious grandchildren has her eagerly looking forward to the next millennium. After living on the East Coast for years, Ruth and her husband now live in Missouri.
This is for all the many affectionate, loving aunts who enrich our lives with their presence, their advice and guidance, their constancy and support. Most of mine have gone from this earth, but I recall them to memory with great fondness and longing to see them again.
And for the aunt for whom I was named, who is lively and shining with loveâAunt Ruth. Everyone should be so blessed.
Ivy hated weddings. She despised bridesmaids dresses. She still abhorred all ten attendant gowns already stuffed in the back of her closet, used once, never appropriate for any other occasion. Never mind the two once-in-a-dream white bridal gowns, unused, forlorn, and stored in plastic covers, hidden away in disappointment and disgust.
She especially detested the bright lime-green silk that clung too tightly to her generous curves at this very moment, but sheâd bitten her tongue over the choice. After all, sheâd given her word to support the bride, her best friend Kelly, and Kellyâs sister wanted this style, this color.
âIvy Suzanne York, quit pulling at your dress,â Aunt Arletta said, scarcely lowering her voice as she steered her from behind the huge oak where Ivy had tried to hide. âYouâre not a child, you know.â
Ivy swallowed a snappy response, eyeing the man her aunt had tugged along a few minutes ago in her wake.
No, Ivy hadnât been a child for a long time. At twenty-seven, college educated, with ten solid years of retail experience behind her, and now owner of her own shop, Ivy considered herself well and truly grown. A responsible person. With nothing to prove to anyone. With a reasonable five-year plan for her life. Never mind that she was more than two years behind her schedule to be married by age twenty-five. But Aunt Arletta, dear as she was, sometimes still treated her as if she couldnât wipe her own nose.
âIvy, this is Noah Thornton. He has a true artistic eye, donât you think?â The older woman swept her hand wide, indicating the vast grounds surrounding Reeves House, the lovely old stone mansion the brideâs parents had rented for the wedding. Ivy hoped to explore more of the grounds later during the reception. Right now, she resented having her few minutes of respite from all the gushy wedding talk stolen by another of her auntâs antics.
It didnât help her mood any when the dark-eyed man standing two feet in front of her smirked as he nodded a greeting. Glints of amusement sparked from his warm brown eyes as his gaze swept down her figure before returning to her face.
âNoah, this is my niece, Ivy. She has the shop I told you about, âWallâs Intrigueâ in Brookside. Seems to me you two have a lot in common. You in landscaping and she in interior design.â Aunt Arletta, dressed in a burnt orange fall suit that complemented her snowy hair, grasped Ivyâs wrist again just as she tried to ease backward. âNoahâs unmarried, Ivy, and Iâm sure heâs looking for just the right young woman to fill his life. Proverbs says, âA man who finds a wifeâââ