by Ann Everett
“They’re still doing test, but so far, they don’t think it was a heart attack.”
She trembled when she said it and Jared glanced at Jace. He nodded agreement, and relief overwhelmed Jared. “Thank God.”
Mom pulled away. “He’s been working too hard and if he wants to or not, he needs to slow down. You’ve got to make hiring an intern a priority. Regardless of what the doctor finds, I want your dad to cut back to three days a week.”
Guilt churned in Jared’s gut. She’d given him the responsibility, and he’d put it off. If he hadn’t, this might not have happened. My fault. “I’ll start on it first thing tomorrow, and until I hire someone, I’ll take up the slack. I haven’t been pulling my load, but I’ll change.”
“No, that isn’t what I meant. You work hard, too, and I don’t want to trade one worry for another.”
Her voice quivered, and Jared decided it was a good thing Raynie didn’t want to see him anymore. At least he’d have plenty of work to keep him busy.
RAYNIE CURLED ON the sofa in her favorite pajamas and finished her third glass of wine. Silbie had been asleep for an hour, and to keep Raynie’s mind off Jared, she’d caught up on tarot submissions.
She kept telling herself she’d made the right decision for everyone. She couldn’t allow deeper feelings, and Silbie didn’t need the separation anxiety sure to come when they left town. If he knew it or not, this was the best thing for him, too.
He deserved a proper woman who’d sit on the front pew at every service. Gaze at him with pure love and admiration as he delivered sermons to a congregation that appreciated such a devoted wife. One to take charge of the ladies Bible study, head up the Wednesday morning prayer breakfast, chaperone youth group field trips. Homemade bread would be among her specialties. During the summer, she’d make jam and build houses in a third world country. She’d do all that, and in her off time, spit out beautiful, dimpled babies.
Raynie drained her glass and refilled it. Yep, years from now, he’d remember their time together and thank the Lord she was nothing but a memory. A half-hippie-half-gypsy-card-reading-non-Episcopalian who couldn’t even bake cookies, much less bread.
Right before he bolted like an angry bull, his face went ghost white, and she wondered about the call. Had to be serious, or he would have stayed and argued. Whatever it was, she couldn’t contact him to find out. That would reopen the door she’d closed, or from his expression, more like slammed. She’d even surprised herself with the unplanned ultimatum. But it had to be done.
Gulping the last bit of her wine, she poured another glass, because she did her best thinking when half-drunk. She should sign up for a cooking class. She propped the laptop onto her thighs and searched the local offerings.
Hmm, several online sites. One scheduled at the university campus, but it was at night. Not convenient. Then she saw the last item on the page. Private lessons for beginners. From the drop- down menu, available classes and cost appeared. She clicked the contact button and requested a ten a.m. slot.
Okay, this was going great. Do readings from 8–10, cook until noon, and still work in errands and car pool. She’d be so busy, she wouldn’t think about Jared, let alone miss him.
In the following half-hour, she arranged her first lesson, and met the instructor, Chef Sean, via cyber space. Any other time, she’d be excited to have such a gorgeous teacher. But his bio stated those deep brown eyes, blond hair, and toothpaste commercial perfect teeth belonged to his partner, Marc.
Just as well. She giggled then burst into a chorus of Yield Not to Temptation. She slapped a hand over her mouth, for fear she’d wake Silbie. Wouldn’t be good for the kid to see her aunt, plastered.
With the bottle almost empty, she strolled to the counter for more. In the middle of the room, she spun around, waved her arms as if claiming the territory, and announced. “Soon, I will be the queen of this domain and star in my own cooking show.” She took a minute to consider that. She could call it Raynie’s Recipes. Ravenous Raynebeaux. Bitchin Kitchen.
Her phone chimed. She placed it to her ear. “Hello.”
“Raynie, please let Silbie call me tomorrow. I want to explain why I have to cancel Saturday.”
“Oh. We can do the adventure.”
“No. My dad’s in the hospital and I won’t be available. I’ll take her to the dance. That’s two weeks away and he should be home by then.”
“I’m so sorry. Is it serious?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Jared . . .”
He cut her off. “No. You’re right. You don’t need me anymore. Just give Silbie the message.”
“Okay.”
“Goodbye, Raynie.”
And just like that, he gave up without a fight. She’d been right all along. He’d realized she’d been a waste of time and she wanted to cry. And when he ended the call, she did.
The next morning, head pounding from the wine and tears, Raynie made plans for a new adventure. Silbie needed a dance dress, but shopping for clothes didn’t sound as exciting as furry animals and drive-in movies.
By ten o’clock, Silbie called Jared and got the news. He’d not asked for Raynie, which wasn’t surprising. After the firm goodbye from the night before, she doubted he’d ever speak to her again.
Across the room, Silbie held Medusa and Mordecai.
It broke Raynie’s heart to see her so sad. She’d not cried when he explained, but all the light had gone out of her eyes. “If you could have any color hair you wanted, what would you choose?”
“Purple,” she mumbled.
“Really? I thought for sure you’d say pink.”
Head bowed, Silbie clutched her kittens. Raynie wouldn’t give up. “Since my name is Raynebeaux, I’d go with lots of colors. You think that would be a good idea?”
No response.
Raynie went to sit with her. “I know you’re sad about Father Jared cancelling, and once his dad gets better, I’m sure he’ll reschedule.” Raynie wasn’t sure he would. And if not, it would be her fault for telling him she didn’t want to see him anymore. There wasn’t anything she could do about that, but she could do something to take the little girl’s mind off her disappointment. “What do you say we create our own fun? We can get a mani-pedi, then dye our hair.”
That got her attention. “You mean get my hair dyed purple? For real?”
“Yep.”
“Can I get my ears pierced, too?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Can I get a tattoo?”
“Hey, let’s not go crazy.”
Other than the Mohawk her freshmen year in college, Raynie had kept her natural color and style. Except for orange one Halloween, then black during her Goth period, and once, green on a dare. But today, she was feeling wild, and besides, if she got her network series, she needed to stand out in the crowd, and rainbow hair would do that for sure.
One can find women who have never had one love affair,
but it is rare indeed to find any who have had only one.
~Francois de La Rochefoucauld
ALMOST TWO WEEKS SINCE Raynie delivered her ultimatum, and a bad mood followed Jared around like a shadow. Even with a pile of work, searching for an intern, and nightly basketball games at Jace’s house weren’t enough to block her from his mind. All of that exhausted him, so he wasn’t losing sleep. But in two more days, he and Silbie would go to the dance and the thought of seeing Raynie twisted his nerves into knots.
He could call to nail down the details. No. A text. More impersonal. Wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea which was really the right idea. He wanted to talk to her. See her. Inch his way back into her life. But if that happened, it’d be her decision. She’d rejected him and he wouldn’t beg.
He swallowed the rest of his orange juice, rinsed the glass, then stuck it in the dishwasher. The cookbook, still opened to the chocolate chip recipe, rested on a metal easel. Raynie couldn’t cook to save her soul. He chuckled. He couldn’t recall ever datin
g a woman with worse culinary skills than his. But then again, he’d never dated a fortune teller who could scarf down a hamburger like a lumberjack. A child of unconventional parents. A person who didn’t believe in marriage.
Talk about total opposites. A bad girl who liked bad boys might be the reason for the attraction, and he needed to purge her from his system. She didn’t want him, but there were plenty of women who did. He pulled out his cell phone.
At eight o’clock, he strolled into his office feeling better. Mom had been right about hiring someone. Even though Dad was doing well, she never intended for him to come back full time. So, an intern started on Monday.
Students fought for this opportunity because their degree plan required 5000 hours of structured training, and most of the time resulted in a permanent job offer once they became licensed. A win-win situation for all concerned, and Jared was ready. Two weeks shouldering all the responsibility had given him a taste of what work would be like once he took over the firm. Too much for one person.
Before he tackled the stack of duties, he texted Raynie about the dance. It’d been a while since he’d attended a formal function, but remembered the rules. Buy a corsage to match the dress. The only flowers he’d purchased in the past few years were for his mother. Now that he was a regular customer at Affairs to Remember, he’d leave everything to them.
Raynie answered the text straight and to the point. Purple. Dance at 8. She’ll be ready at 7:30.
He’d hoped for more, but with no small talk, that convinced him she wasn’t interested. On the bright side. No need for confession which meant no more guilt. Another win-win. Inviting Lauren to dinner was the right decision.
Leaning back in his chair he thought of his last date with the spunky strawberry blonde. She wasn’t ready to settle down, which was fine with him. Good time chicks were the best. A nice meal. A few drinks. Hot sex. Quick exit. No expectations. No drama.
JARED’S TEXT RATTLED Raynie. She hated missing him so much, but his curt inquiry proved he didn’t miss her. Probably didn’t even think about her. What should she expect? She’d sent him away, and he abided by her wishes. Wishes. She’d buried those deep in her heart locked away like a dark secret because letting them surface would do no good.
Lusting after Preacher Man was the biggest mistake she’d made in a while. Didn’t intend for it to happen, but little by little, all the things she liked about him, pushed logic aside. But she’d finally found her voice and after Saturday’s dance, she’d never see him again.
Afraid she’d give in to her desires, she invited Quinn, Dak, and Molly for a visit. Her best friend would keep her grounded, and Raynie was eager for Silbie to meet them because once in Austin, they’d be a big part of her life. Molly, Raynie’s godchild, would help with the transition. Nothing like a sweet baby to take Silbie’s mind off Lubbock.
Raynie snatched up the list for the day’s menu and gathered the basic ingredients. The classes were a good decision. The first two had bored her to tears learning about utensils, terminology, and how to boil a perfect egg. But since then, she’d mastered full course meals.
Chef Sean was patient, gifted, and easy on the eyes. Thank goodness he was gay, if not, with all her pent up frustration, she might have slathered him with butter and eaten him like a new food group.
When he arrived, a trail of woodsy fragrance strong enough to kill flying insects followed the golden haired beef-cake as he juggled sacks.
“Morning, Raynie. Creole pan seared meatloaf with tomato gravy sound interesting?”
“Sure.”
“That’s my girl.” He slid the contents from the bags. “Wash this green pepper and celery. Then I’ll chop it while you make the roux.”
In the next ten minutes, she worked without talking, because Sean’s fragrance reminded her of Jared. Everything reminded her of him. “I love these southern recipes, but if I ate this kind of food every day, I’d weigh 300 pounds.”
The cooking hunk placed a skillet on the stove. “This is more for Sunday dinner or a romantic evening. I haven’t asked, but usually when a woman takes an interest in cooking, it concerns a man. You got somebody special?”
“I was kinda, sorta, seeing this guy, but it didn’t work out.”
He cocked a brow. “Well, if you want him back, I guarantee this meal will do it. We’ll accompany the entree with browned butter green beans, a fresh leafy salad, and finish with quick banana pudding.”
Nothing would make Raynie happier than to cook for Jared. Instead, she’d invite her next door neighbor. She didn’t sign up to land a man. She was a parent now, and moms cooked. Couldn’t feed Silbie fast food for the next dozen years. Besides, she liked all this Holly Homemaker stuff, and that surprised her. She might be mother material after all. She hoped meatloaf didn’t give Mr. Remmus gas.
JARED LET LAUREN PICK the restaurant and wouldn’t you know she’d choose one three blocks from Raynie’s house. But that wouldn’t spoil his evening. He had a beautiful, willing woman sitting across from him, and by damn he planned to take advantage of it.
She tossed her head, soft curls bounced, then settled against tanned skin. She wore the same style blouse as Raynie had for their first lunch date.
He zeroed in on the cutouts. “What kind of top do you call that?”
“Cold shoulder.”
“I like it. Sexy.”
“Thank you.”
Her lips puckered around the last word and his crotch twitched. Still two hours before sunset, he needed to pace himself. He stared out the window where across the street a neon sign blinked Scoops, Shakes, and Sundaes. Bright umbrellas swayed in the breeze. On the outermost corner sat a woman with a young girl. The child licked a chocolate ice cream cone while the lady messed with her cell phone. The pair could pass for Raynie and Silbie had it not been for the colored hair. Purple streaked the child’s and the adult’s sported all the primary colors.
His chest tightened. Holy crap. It was them. What the hell had she done? Dyed Silbie’s hair to match her dance dress? Was she insane?
RAYNIE TEXTED BACK and forth with Quinn making arrangements for the weekend. Silbie’s hatred for bananas had been a surprise. She’d not been too crazy about the meatloaf either but made a deal to eat six bites in return for one scoop of chocolate. On the other hand, Mr. Remmus proposed marriage, so she considered her efforts a success.
She put her phone down. “Are you about done?”
“Yes ma’am, but can I go slide?”
Raynie scanned the crowded play area. Kids climbed on jungle bars, and through plastic tunnels. “Sure.” She followed Silbie and found a seat with a clear view. Over at Bijou Bistro, black-and-white striped awnings ruffled in the wind and caught her attention. She should sign up for French cooking. It couldn’t be more deadly than southern cuisine with all its gravy and fried food. Her eyes drifted. The couples appeared so happy. Laughing, talking. What a crock. At least fifty percent of them were probably having affairs.
Eyeing each pair, she judged them. The young blond and older man. Rich guy. Mistress. Two studs drinking wine. Gay. Sexy redhead. Raynie lost her breath. Jared. She spun around putting her back to the eatery. “Silbie! We need to go.”
“Just a little longer. Please.”
“No. I’m not feeling well. We’ve got to leave right now.”
Silbie ran to her, and Raynie clasped her hand. Once in the car, she swiped at her cheeks.
“What’s wrong Aunt Raynie? Are you crying?”
“No. I got something in my eye. Buckle your seat belt.” She pulled herself together. Stupid to be upset. Jared wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t anything to her. Never had been.
Jared pushed the comforter aside and swung his feet to the floor. What was happening to him? Last night, he’d had a beautiful, willing chick ready to hop in the sack, and he’d ended the date with a simple goodnight kiss. Seeing Raynie unnerved him, and he couldn’t take Lauren to bed. Just as well. She was only a substitute for the woman he r
eally wanted, and that would have been unfair to her.
He was a jerk—and an idiot. He’d tried everything he could think of to convince Raynie happily-ever-after existed. Well, no more. He was done thinking about her and hoping against hope she’d change her mind.
RAYNIE HIT THE SEND button for the seventh reading, then strolled to the kitchen for a coffee refill. The more she did this job, the more she felt like a fake. So many people wanting a prediction for everlasting love and there was no such thing. The best anyone could hope for was temporarily-ever-after. Yeah, she’d had two of those.
She poured then stared into the backyard. Shasta daisies were budding. Soon they’d be in full bloom. At least she and Silbie would have time to pick a bouquet or two before they left.
Out front, the mowing crew pulled to the curb and Chef Sean parked in the drive. This was the last southern cooking lesson, and she decided to book another class. It was easier to think about chicken dishes than dimples.
The image of Jared with the redhead came in vivid color. She should be happy for him, because the way the woman shook her head and laughed, told Raynie it wasn’t a counseling session. Good for him. He’d already moved on.
If she remembered correctly, Jared’s brother married a redhead. Sloan men must have a weakness for gingers. Raynie chuckled to herself. She could be included in that group. At the moment, she had a few red stripes. Ready to tackle the job of perfecting Texas’ ultimate comfort food, chicken fried steak, she forced the notion away and went to open the door.
By the time the lesson ended, she’d learned the secret to the coronary waiting to happen. Dredge in flour, dip in an egg-milk combination, and dredge again. The process provided a thick, crisp crust while keeping the meat inside moist and tender. Sean used the same procedure for the okra, and those little morsels, she discovered, were as addictive as potato chips. Once you popped one in your mouth, you couldn’t stop.