Tender Vow by Sharlene MacLaren Read Free Book Online Page B

the parking lot while they went out for brunch afterward. Jason didn’t mind restaurant food, but he would have enjoyed an occasional home-cooked meal, even if it meant making a joint effort of it. The trouble was, neither of them knew enough about cooking to whip up anything appealing. Not that he couldn’t learn, he supposed. He just didn’t have the gumption, and neither did Candace. He often wondered what life would be like for them if they got married. She talked about wanting a spectacular house. Would it include a gourmet kitchen? If so, for what purpose?
    After brunch at Rawlings Family Restaurant in Cadillac, they headed for Jason’s condo for an afternoon of lazing around. They drove both cars so that he wouldn’t have to take her back to the church come evening.
    When they entered his place, Candace kicked off her high-heeled pumps and walked barefoot to the sliding glass door to look outside. “Too bad it’s raining,” she mused aloud, “or we could have gone for a walk today. There won’t be many more of these nice fall days. Look how the trees are starting to change colors already.”
    Jason tossed his keys on the sideboard table by the door and hung his lightweight jacket in the coat closet. Candace hadn’t removed hers yet. “It is late September, hon,” he reminded her.
    Rather than join her at the window, he walked to the fridge to grab a soft drink. “Want anything?” he asked as he bent over to scan the mostly bare compartments and shelves. Briefly, he wondered if Rachel’s fridge had a better supply, then scoffed at his wandering thoughts.
    “No, thanks.”
    He flipped the tab on the can and took several swigs of the cold drink before walking into the living room, frowning at its unkempt state and wondering if Candace noticed or even cared.
    His bi-level, two-bedroom, two-bath condo was nothing spectacular, but it was comfortable and decorated to fit his taste, with a leather sofa and matching chair, several chunky end tables, a couple of paintings by a local artist, a thick throw for those nights when he felt like stretching out in front of his wide-screen plasma TV, several bronze lamps, and a shelf full of books: novels, a few philosophy texts, several classics, and three different translations of the Bible.
    The lower level included a recreation room, a laundry area, and plumbing for an additional bath, which he doubted he’d ever need. He and Candace had pretty much decided they would sell his place once they got married and build a bigger home. Of course, the notion had come more from her than him. She seemed to think that since he owned Evans Construction Company, building his own place would cost next to nothing. Wrong.
    Candace pivoted her tall, slender body to face him, her black shoulder-length locks curving around her neck, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “Can you come home with me next weekend, Jason? And don’t dare tell me you can’t, or I’ll be very disappointed. Mom’s birthday is October sixth, and I know it would mean a lot to her if you came.”
    He took another big swallow of cola. “Next weekend?” He didn’t enjoy the long drive to her parents’ home in the Chicago suburbs, but it had been a couple of months since he’d accompanied her there. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise. Deadlines are looming at the Wilcox house. I spent all day yesterday there.”
    “Jason, you have a whole crew working for you. Don’t tell me you can’t afford to take off one Saturday,” she whined, reminding him of a pouty child. He opened his mouth to protest, but she went on. “You always come up with some excuse or another not to go with me.” As pretty as she was, God had blessed her even more with the uncanny ability to guilt him into almost anything.
    “Well, then, I’d better not try to come up with one,” he teased.
    To that, she responded by flinging herself at him in a full embrace. “So, you’ll come? I’m excited! Wait till I call Mom.