“One way to find out.” Melanie chuckled. “Astrid, you can bat this around for as long as you want, and look at it six ways to Sunday, but until you actually talk to him, you’ll have no idea how he’ll react. My advice is to just do it.”
“It’s good advice.”
“So when will you talk to him?”
She took a shaky breath. “Once everything’s straightened out from the accident.”
Melanie looked as if she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue.
Astrid had known her long enough that she could guess what her friend wasn’t saying, though. Mel didn’t think putting off the conversation was a good idea. “I have to get this stuff under control, Mel. I don’t even have a phone yet. I couldn’t call him if I wanted to.”
“Do you know his number?”
“As it happens, I do.” She hadn’t memorized many phone numbers, but somehow his had stuck in her mind. Imagine that.
“I have a phone. You could arrange to meet him for lunch.”
Astrid’s stomach churned as she contemplated putting everything on the line right away. She wasn’t ready. “Twenty-four hours isn’t going to make that much difference. Then I’ll have my ducks in a row, at least mostly, and I can think more clearly about how I want to broach the subject.”
“All righty.” Melanie gave her a quick hug. “It’s your life.”
* * *
Janis and Buddy were in great shape. Herman and the other two hired hands had everything under control at the Rocking G. The insurance adjuster had evaluated the collapsed bridge and the paperwork on that was in process.
Although Fletch could always find something to do—a horse that needed exercising, a fencepost that wobbled, some research online as he mapped out his breeding program in more detail—nothing seemed pressing enough to demand his immediate attention. He knew exactly why that was. He was still focused on Astrid and wondered how she was progressing with all her issues.
He’d thought about calling, but she might not have picked up a new cell phone yet. Besides, he didn’t want to appear needy, even though he was, a little bit. He told himself she’d contact him and set a time to see him, at least by next Sunday . . . but that seemed like forever. By Sunday he might be a raving lunatic.
Yesterday he’d been convinced they’d eliminated any obstacles to having a relationship. But today he wasn’t at all sure about that. Her manner told him obstacles still existed, and if he had to guess, he’d say her parents’ opinion constituted at least one of them.
He couldn’t imagine why, unless they were extremely conservative about sex before marriage. After giving the matter more thought, he decided that must be it. She hadn’t wanted to discuss her parents with him, possibly out of loyalty to their beliefs, and maybe because she wasn’t honoring those beliefs.
So he’d help her work around that issue, but in order to do that, they had to discuss it. In order to discuss it, he had to talk with her, preferably face-to-face. He hated to think that wouldn’t happen until Sunday.
Astrid was the only person he could talk to about their relationship, since he’d promised to keep it quiet. That promise had boxed him in more than he’d realized when he’d made it. He had a couple of close friends from high school and either one of them would gladly listen to him rant about his frustration, but he’d told Astrid he wouldn’t do that.
By early afternoon he was desperately seeking an outlet for his restlessness. Finally he came up with one, grabbed his keys, and climbed in his truck. He was curious about the condition of her truck, and the sheriff’s department had given him the name of the yard where it was being kept. He’d drive over and check it out.
As he navigated the muddy back roads he was required to take because of the collapsed bridge, he told himself visiting the yard was a good idea. She’d probably been attached to that truck. He certainly was to his. Seeing it all beat up would upset her, and if he’d seen it, too, he’d be better equipped to understand and console her.
Damn, she’d probably need consoling, too, especially when she first saw the truck. He hoped she wouldn’t go to the yard by herself. That would be really depressing, and he wanted to cushion the blow.
She hadn’t asked him, though. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she hadn’t asked him to help her at all. She’d called on her friend Melanie, and that was okay, but he would have liked to have been involved.
When he located the yard, he parked his truck next to the high chain-link fence and climbed out. He was no stranger to yards like this. A guy in need of a replacement bumper or fender could often find one at a reasonable price in these establishments. That kind of search had the excitement of a treasure hunt built in.
Today, though, he was looking for a wrecked truck that had been in fine shape early yesterday morning, and that produced a whole different feeling. Now that he was here, he wasn’t as interested in viewing the damage as he’d thought he’d be. He’d do it, though, for Astrid’s sake.
“Can I help you?” A thin guy wearing a white T-shirt, worn jeans, and a baseball cap walked out of a small shack near the entrance to the yard.
“I wanted to take a look at a truck that came in yesterday. White crew cab, went into the water up by the Rocking G.”
“Oh, yeah.” The guy glanced at the side of Fletch’s truck, obviously noticing the Rocking G brand. “Were you there?”
“I was.”
“You just missed the owner. She was here not thirty minutes ago.”
Fletch swore under his breath. If he’d followed his instincts sooner, he might have met her here. Then again, she might not have appreciated that. God knows he didn’t want her to think he was turning into a damned stalker.
“The insurance adjuster’s been out, too, but that doesn’t surprise me. After all, she’s a Lindberg.”
“Excuse me?”
“A Lindberg.” The guy peered at him from under the brim of his cap. “Apparently that doesn’t mean anything to you.”
“Not really, other than it’s her last name.”
“I might not know about the family, either, except a few years ago her daddy wrecked a Lamborghini and they towed it here.”
“Did you say Lamborghini?” Fletch didn’t know much about luxury cars, but he recognized that name.
“Yep. Worth more than a million bucks. Totaled. Man, I hated to see that fine piece of machinery all torn up. He was lucky to walk away from it. Anyway, a car like that makes an impression. Now the name Lindberg rings a bell whenever I hear it.”
“I’ll bet.” A million bucks. For a car. His mind made such a sharp U-turn that he felt a little dizzy. Her parents weren’t conservative people who disapproved of premarital sex. They were filthy rich, which meant Astrid was filthy rich, too.
Now everything made sense. He’d known she was hesitant about committing to their relationship. After learning this critical bit of information, one she’d failed to impart, the reason had become painfully obvious. She was rich and he was not.
Anger sat in his chest, hard and hot, burning away all the tender feelings he’d had for her. What was he to her? The equivalent of a pool boy? Oh, she’d liked the sex well enough. He didn’t doubt that. She might have figured that a once-a-week romp would be fun for a while. But she’d had no intention of letting it go beyond a casual affair.
“Still want to see her truck?”
Fletch stared at him. He’d forgotten the guy was standing there. “No.” He glanced up at the sun and estimated the time to be about three. “I need to get going.”
“You’re sure? It’s just right over yonder.” He gestured toward the fence.
Fletch looked, and sure enough, he could see the front half of the truck. It was sitting behind a bashed-in yellow van. “Yeah, okay. Why not?”
“I mean, you drove here, so you might as well.” The guy unlocked the gate
and led the way through it. “She told me she jumped free.”
“Yep.” The image flashed through his mind and clutched at his heart. It probably always would when he thought of it. From now on, he’d do his best not to.
“Good thing she jumped. You get trapped in the vehicle when it goes in, you’re done for. Maybe she has her old man’s luck when it comes to things like that.”
“Could be.”
“I’m sort of surprised that she’s a vet, though. You’d think she’d go into finance, like her daddy.”
“She would hate that.” He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud.
“So you know her pretty well, then?”
“She’s my vet.” Or at least she used to be. He planned to fire her, right after he gave her a piece of his mind.
“So you must be the guy who pulled her out of the water.”
“That’s me.”
“You could be in for a reward, then. Her parents must be plenty grateful. You probably saved her life.”
Fletch shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Listen, take my advice. Don’t be shy. The Lindbergs are loaded, and if they offer you a reward for saving their only child, why not accept it? Unless you already have more money than you know what to do with.”
“Nope.” He laughed at the irony of it all. “I’m just a regular working stiff, trying to make ends meet.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Take the money.”
“I’ll think about it.” He should, too, if a reward came his way. His knee-jerk response was that he didn’t want their stinkin’ money. Accepting money for doing what was right wasn’t his style.
But he had so many plans for expanding his ranch, and if a cash reward would help him do that, he shouldn’t let stupid pride stand in his way. Yeah, he’d take the money. Just so long as Astrid wasn’t the one who delivered it. After he’d tracked her down this afternoon, or tonight, or whenever he got his chance to say his piece, he never wanted to see her again.
Nine
By five o’clock, Astrid was able to head home in her rented truck stocked with some basic medical supplies so that the next day she’d be able to catch up on the appointments she’d had to cancel. She had a new phone, and her insurance adjuster was on the case. She didn’t have to wait for insurance money to buy a new truck, but she wasn’t up to doing it today.
Instead she was looking forward to a warm bath, a glass of wine, and, eventually, a phone call to Fletch. She was still debating when and where to meet him tomorrow, but she’d figure that out while she soaked in the tub. He’d be expecting a call from her, anyway. He’d want to know how she made out with all her errands, and she missed talking to him.
Seeing his truck parked in front of her clinic startled her. He hadn’t tried to call. She’d had her phone activated since early afternoon. Yet here he was.
As she approached, he got out, closed the cab door, and leaned against the front fender, arms crossed. His Stetson shaded his face, so she couldn’t read his expression, but his body language was clear enough. He was angry.
Her heart began to pound. Only one thing could cause that kind of response. Somehow he’d found out about the money.
Mouth dry and pulse racing, she stopped her truck. Her hand shook as she turned the key, shutting off the motor. What now? Could she make him understand why she hadn’t told him?
Saying a little prayer that she could appeal to that gentle, caring side of him, she climbed down from the rental truck and walked toward him. When he didn’t come to meet her, she understood just how angry he must be. He’d always been so glad to see her.
Not now. The closer she came, the more she realized how rigid his body was. Finally she gazed into his eyes, and her spirit shrank. He’d never looked at her like that, with eyes so cold that she shivered.
“Fletch, I can explain.”
“Really?” His tone was as cold as his eyes. “I’ll be fascinated to hear what you come up with. Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just stringing me along until you got tired of the sex?”
She gasped, the breath going out of her as if he’d punched her in the stomach. “That’s what you think? That all I cared about was sex?”
“Obvious, isn’t it? I know you liked that part, but whenever I tried to establish something more concrete between us, you shied away. At first you claimed it was because I was a client. Was that ever true, or just a ploy?”
“It was true!” Her heart cracked right down the middle. “I value my professional reputation.”
“I can’t imagine why it matters. You don’t need the money.”
Her hand connected with his cheek before she realized she was going to slap him. She stepped back, horrified that she’d done such a thing. But her work was so important to her, and he’d implied she didn’t really care about it.
A red mark on his cheek branded him, but he didn’t act as if he’d felt a thing. “You’re a good vet,” he said. “I’ll give you that. But you’re no longer my vet.”
“Fletch, don’t do this. I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know how. Everything happened so fast.”
“I knew you for six months before that everything took place. You could have given me a hint, some little sign, so that I wouldn’t make a fool of myself worrying about whether your business stayed in the black.”
“I don’t like to advertise it, and I made a point of not telling anyone in my practice. You were no different.”
He flinched for the first time. “Apparently not. Except that I’m good in bed, so that came in handy.”
“Stop! It’s not only sex between us! Don’t say these awful things. We’ve shared so much!”
“I thought so, too, but where was it going, Astrid? I’m not in your league, and you knew that from the start. You could have told me so. All I can figure is you wanted to satisfy your curiosity and scratch that itch.”
“No! That’s not fair. I told you I’d decided not to go to bed with you. You were the one convinced it would happen.”
“Yeah.” He sounded more weary than angry now. “But I was operating on false information. The thing is, I knew something wasn’t right, and I ignored the warning signals. My bad. It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
“Don’t say that. I was going to call you tonight and set up a meeting for tomorrow. I was going to tell you then.”
“So you could give me the brush-off? Hey, I’ve saved you the trouble.”
“You’re furious with me, and I understand that, but I wanted to tell you. Like I said, I couldn’t figure out how.”
He gazed at her, his expression blank. “Now I know.”
“How did you find out?”
“Not that it matters, but I went to the yard to see your truck. I thought it might help if I—well, never mind that. The guy at the yard told me about your dad’s Lamborghini. After that, the puzzle pieces fell into place.”
“You went to see my truck?” She’d never dreamed he would do such a thing.
“Crazy, isn’t it? I had some idea that seeing the damage would help me to comfort you. I thought you’d be upset. Stupid of me, but I wasn’t in the know.”
“I was upset.”
“Why? You can replace it without batting an eye.”
She stared at him, and her own anger rose to meet his. “You’re like everyone else, assuming that just because someone has the money to replace things, they don’t care if they’re destroyed. You’re spouting the same clichés I’ve heard all my life. Well, screw you.”
“I think you already did.”
“That’s crude.”
“I feel crude at the moment. So sue me. But you won’t get much. As you know, I don’t have a lot of ready cash.”
“Okay, then! Be a jackass and let this money thing come between us! I thought maybe you’d be different, but you’re not.”
/> “Nope.” He unfolded his arms and pushed away from the fender. “I’m just your average guy.” He walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door.
“You’re not average! You saved my life!”
“I would have done that for anyone.” Closing the door, he started the engine, backed the truck out, and drove away.
She stood in the parking area, her arms wrapped tight around her body. Her chest hurt so much that she had trouble breathing. Apparently this was what heartbreak felt like. She’d always laughed when people said money couldn’t buy happiness. It had been her friend for a long time. But it wasn’t her friend now.
* * *
Fletch spent the first half of the drive home nursing his righteous anger and listening to Chubby Checker, turned up really loud. He spent the second half in silence, haunted by the devastation in Astrid’s blue eyes. He’d been so harsh, but damn it, she’d used him.
Hadn’t she?
Well, it was true she hadn’t come on to him. He’d been the one who’d kissed her. Yes, but she could have told him then. She could have said Fletch, there’s something you don’t know about me. I’m one of the richest girls in Dallas.
He tried to picture her saying such a thing and couldn’t. She wasn’t the type. Although she might have more money than God, she didn’t act like it.
Which should have told him that the money wasn’t all that important to her.
But it was there, and it wouldn’t melt overnight or be absorbed in some Ponzi scheme so that she’d suddenly be on the same financial footing as he was. That would be ridiculous, anyway. She might be using that money to finance her clinic, and for all he knew she did a lot of pro bono work because she didn’t have to make a huge profit.
She wouldn’t tell him that, of course. That might be what wounded him most of all. She hadn’t trusted him with the information about her wealth, as if she thought he’d go off the deep end if he found out.
The Perfect Man Page 16