He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not...

            Tina Shultz swiped her bangs out of her eyes and sighed. The only full-time employee of the local historical society found herself short-handed once again.

            After climbing down the ladder, she refilled her paint pan, wishing for even one able-bodied helper. Hearing a low whistle, she glanced at the doorway. Jackson Pearce appeared ruggedly handsome and ready to work in ratty jeans, paint-stained t-shirt, and old cowboy boots.

Her breath hitched in her chest.

“Hey, Beautiful! How’s it going?”

“Hello, Jackson,” she said, praying she didn’t instigate his teasing by landing her face in the paint. Turning abruptly to scale the ladder nearly upset the pan. She breathed a sigh of relief and climbed up to secure it.

“Where would you like me to start?”

Frowning, she waved her hand around. “Take your pick. The whole place needs painting.”

            “Grumpy today, are we? Too little sleep and even less help?”

“Something like that.”
            “Careful. Your foot is inching its way to the edge of the step. I’d rather you not fall and break your pretty neck.”

Feeling a blush coming on, she faced the wall and started painting again. “Don’t know why that would bother you. It’d only give you teasing ammo.” Mortified that she had spoken the words aloud, she grappled for something else to say. “Why are you here, anyway? Brad said you guys were going fishing.”

            “Tina. You’ve only known me, what? Your whole life? Surely you realize by now that I only tease people I care about.”

“In that case, I must be your favorite person.”

“And I cancelled my fishing trip when I heard my favorite person was painting the old school house today. Thought you might need a hand.”

            Tina looked down to find rare sincerity written on his face and it unnerved her. This was not a side of Jackson Pearce she was used to. Did he really care about her? An ache tugged at her heart.

            “I’ll get a roller and join you.” Equipment in hand, he began painting the bottom portion of the wall in silence.

Tina let her memories rewind.

Jackson had always had a knack for making corny jokes out of her clumsy mishaps. She just thought he was getting laughs at her expense, but now she realized nobody else ever remembered the source of his humor. They only remembered his goofiness. Had he purposely drawn attention to himself to lessen her embarrassment?

            Glancing down at him, warmth curled around her heart.

Suddenly, an idea popped into her head and, smiling, she worked the paint-roller leftward.

            Drip.

            Jackson’s arm froze in mid-stroke when the paint hit the side of his head and drizzled into his ear.

            Tina giggled. “Oops. Sorry.”

            When he looked up at her, she saw both amusement and challenge in his eyes.

Wagging his roller, he said, “So, you want to play?”

            Her eyes rounded. “What? Oh, come on, Jack. You know how clumsy I am.”

            “Clumsy? Yes! But that was a bit too precise to be clumsiness. Now, you’re going to pay.”

Dropping off the ladder, she squealed and ran across the room only to realize she was now cornered. The table blocked her exit. Suddenly, he lunged. She dodged too late and cold, gooey paint slid down her cheek.

            “Gotcha!”

“You turkey!” Tina swiped at her face, making the smudge worse. She wanted to be angry with him. She really did. But a giggle slipped out and before she knew it they were both howling with laughter.

Finally, Jackson set the roller on the table, pulled a clean rag from his back pocket and, dabbing the paint off her face, spoke softly, “You know, you’re awfully cute when you’re playful. Does this mean you’ve decided to like me?”

Tina studied his face. Touched by the tenderness and vulnerability she saw, she decided to be honest. “It’s not a matter of liking you or not, Jack. I thought…You always joke about my… mishaps… I thought you enjoyed having fun at my expense.”

Tucking the rag in his back pocket, he cradled her face. “Tina, I would never do that to you. I never ever meant to hurt you. Forgive me,” he said and, lowering his face to hers, gave her the sweetest of kisses.

Melting, she returned his kiss, absorbing the tenderness of his touch. 

Pulling away, he said, “Now. That’s more like it.”

Searching his eyes for laughter, she found sincerity and longing.

“Why-why’d you do that?” She sounded breathless even to her own ears.

“Because I don’t want you to doubt ever again how special you are to me.”

Hope filled her heart, threatening to burst its seams. She gave him a crooked smile and said, “I think you just might have succeeded.”

~Written by Linnette R Mullin

~All rights reserved.