Dust Eva Everson (story reading txt) 📖

work. DiAnn’s daddy had set them up right fine in the house, but Paul managed to make the payments without help from anyone else.

Westley brought the car to rest under a tall pine in the front yard, raised the top as he craned his neck to look up at the window where, he prayed, Ali still napped, then stepped out of the car. But not before slipping the framed photo of his child under the driver’s seat. And not before remembering the other thing he had to tell his fiancée. The one thing he could tell her. In fact, had to tell her.

He’d not gotten six strides across toward the front door when it opened and Ali stepped out. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Westley stopped. “Yeah. Why?” He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one before she could reach him, hoping there were no lingering evidences of his meeting with Cindie on his clothes. That girl and her overuse of perfume. That was another thing about Allison—she smelled like a light wash of powdery-scented body spray. Nothing more. What was it? Love’s Baby Soft … Cindie always smelled like his grandmother’s garden.

Ali stopped in front of him. She had dressed for the evening—burgundy slacks that fit her like a glove with a matching multitoned sweater that hugged her in ways that nearly drove him crazy. A hint of vanilla and rose reached him and he smiled in appreciation. Yep. Cindie Campbell had nothing on Allison Middleton. Sexy without class could only be sensual and nothing more. Allison was the complete package. A woman he could have a conversation with even when she wasn’t in his bed.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked.

“You,” he answered. “You make me smile. And you smell good.”

Her lips formed a slight frown, which was not what he’d hoped for. “I was worried about your headache.”

He touched her button nose with the tip of his finger. “Yeah …” he said, stalling. “I thought maybe a drive would make me feel better. The fresh air blowing, you know?”

Her brow rose. “Oh. I thought … maybe … that you’d gone to the drugstore or something. I never thought about just driving around for a while.”

A low chuckle rose in him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, turning her back toward the house. “You are adorable, you know that? Did you manage to sleep any?”

She nodded, then looked up at him, her eyes adoring him. “Yes, but I missed you not being here when I woke up.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I wasn’t gone that long. Must not have been much of a nap.” They reached the front porch. Ascended the steps to the door, left half open. “Hey,” he said, stopping. Her eyes met his. “I love you, you know that?”

Ali’s arms slid around his waist as her head came to rest on his chest. “Oh, Westley. I can’t wait to be your wife.”

He took another draw from his cigarette. Exhaled the smoke toward the yard, then untangled her so he could toss the remainder into the shrubs. But his hand found hers. Held it. Because he loved her. He did. No doubt about that. And he’d make her as happy as a man like him—a man not always focused on what his actions could mean to anyone other them himself—knew how.

“I was thinking,” Paul said during dinner that evening, “that we’d go home tonight, build a bonfire, and make s’mores.”

DiAnn raised her wine glass in a toast to the idea, then asked, “Do we have the ingredients?”

“Piggly Wiggly …”

“Which is closed,” Westley interjected.

“Hmmm,” Paul said.

“What about a convenience store?” Allison spoke up from beside Westley.

Westley pointed to her, brows raised and smiling. “See? That’s why I’m marrying this one. She’s smart.”

“She is that,” DiAnn agreed. This time she took a sip of her wine.

They left the restaurant where they’d enjoyed a fine meal, each of them sipping on a glass of sweet dinner wine—Westley more than one—until he felt good about the rest of his life. Most especially about the conversation he planned to have with Ali later on. They stopped at a nearby 7-Eleven, purchased overpriced graham crackers, marshmallows, and Hershey’s chocolate bars, then hurried back to Paul and DiAnn’s.

While Allison and DiAnn set up a tray of everything they’d need, he and Paul worked to dig a pit and gather firewood. “Great idea,” Westley said once the flames licked upward, the smoke curling into the dark night air. “You’re all right for a little brother,” he added with a laugh.

“Let’s grab some chairs off the porch,” Paul said, then turned toward the back of the house.

The brothers trudged the slight incline, Westley keeping his eyes on the kitchen window where Allison passed back and forth. He stopped, rested his hands on his hips, and grinned. “Look at her,” he said. “Look at her, Paul.”

Paul stopped beside him. “Have you told her yet?”

“About Michelle or about … tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tonight.” Westley looked at his brother. “Tonight, after we have some s’mores and, afterward, you and DiAnn go back inside. Leave us out here alone, okay? I’ll tell her then.”

Paul slapped him on the back. “Maybe I should tell DiAnn to bring another bottle of wine out with the s’mores ingredients.”

“May-be.”

“It’s your funeral, big brother, but I believe I would have—”

“Never mind what you would have …” Westley said, then continued toward the chairs.

Chapter Nine

Allison

I stretched my legs in the low-sitting Adirondack chair and smiled, the flavor of chocolate and marshmallow and graham crackers and wine still lingering on my tongue. “This was fun,” I said, turning so that my chin brushed against the thick, soft fabric of my coat’s collar. I blinked toward my fiancé who sat no more than a foot away. “The whole night was wonderful, but …” I grinned at him. “I’m kinda glad Paul and DiAnn left us alone for a while.”

Westley pulled a cigarette from the front pocket of his