by Ann Everett
Garlic mashed potatoes, gravy, and pecan pie rounded out the menu. At the end of each class, a great sense of pride washed over her. She’d never known cooking could be so rewarding or she’d be any good at it. But this weekend, she planned to impress Dak and Quinn.
Sean placed his hand on her shoulder. “Well, Betty Crocker, today ends our time together, and you’ve been one of my best students.”
“Thanks. I’ve enjoyed it. So much, I want another session if you have the time.”
“For you? Sure, but unless you want to tackle more than basic dishes, you don’t need an instructor.”
“I want something more advanced, like French cooking or how to make sushi.”
“How about a week of both? Say—starting next Tuesday?”
“Perfect.”
“Okay, see you then, Ma Chérie.”
As Sean left, Raynie took a moment to eye the mowing guy. Last week when he’d come inside to collect his pay she’d gotten a good look at his face. He couldn’t be over twenty-two. Not wearing a shirt, his brown skin glistened in the sun. Any other time, the eagle tattoo on his back would be a real turn on, but not today. Having tossed and turned most of the night thinking about the padre, she’d gone numb in the hormone department. Even a half-naked, inked man didn’t interest her.
With the house quiet again, Medusa and Mordecai came from their hiding spots. Both kitties twined around her feet. She picked them up and hugged them close. A steady hum vibrated like little motors. Celeste would love the cats and how happy they made Silbie.
A tear trickled down Raynie’s cheek. She missed her sister. She put the cats on the floor, grabbed her purse, and walked into the garage.
In less than thirty minutes, she wound around the curves leading into Hillcrest Memorial Park. Recently, she avoided the place. She didn’t want her niece to forget her parents but frequent visits to the cemetery kept the loss fresh. Since she’d stayed away, Silbie’s night screams had all but stopped.
Raynie brought the car to a halt under an oak tree. A carpet of dark green grass stretched out in front of her. A grid of brass vases holding every color and variety of flower, marked each flat stone. As she got out, across the grounds, a tent flapped in the wind, as workers set up chairs beneath it.
She checked her watch. Almost one. She’d be out of there before the next service. She rounded a group of crepe myrtles and Celeste’s grave came into view. Breath caught in the back of Raynie’s throat. A man stood at the resting place. She stopped short and studied him. Tall, dark hair, broad shoulders. His starched denim shirt tucked neatly into jeans, and cowboy boots looked to be some type of snakeskin. In his hands, he held a hat.
When she called, he jerked his head toward her. He appeared to be about forty. Brown eyes. Chiseled features. Masculinity rolling off him like August heat on asphalt.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Before he could speak, Raynie’s knees weakened. Cowboy was about as opposite as a guy could be from Evan. “Oh my God. You’re him. Aren’t you?”
“Not sure what you mean.”
“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re Celeste’s lover.”
He settled his hat and tried to walk away, but Raynie blocked him. “Please stay. I have questions and for peace of mind, I need answers.”
He worked his jaw. She thought he might push past her, but instead, he gazed at her with eyes so sad, she wanted to cry.
“What do you want to know?”
She sucked extra air into her lungs. “Everything.”
He nodded, and she understood why Celeste found him attractive. She’d been a sucker for the strong silent type and although Raynie considered Evan sullen, she never pegged him as strong or silent.
She stuck out her hand. “I’m . . .”
“I know. You’re Raynie. I’m Clint Sawyer.”
“Let’s go somewhere we can talk. Why don’t you follow me home?”
A hundred questions ran through her mind as she drove. Clint wasn’t using Celeste for sex. He’d truly cared about her, or he wouldn’t be visiting her grave. Was he at the funeral? She didn’t remember seeing him, but that day had been a blur, so he could have been there and she not noticed.
She swung the Lexus into the drive, and he pulled in behind her. Once inside the house, he turned in a circle, taking it all in.
“The place looks like Celeste. Family photos. Frilly throw pillows. The bird collection.” He walked to the bookshelf and picked up a ceramic robin, then ran his hand across the smooth feathers. “The day I gave her this, she cried. I teased her. Told her it was just a cheap do-dad, but she held it to her chest like it was made of gold.”
Raynie smiled at his word choice. What kind of guy said do-dad? The pain in his voice was palpable. He’d loved Celeste. Still did. A twinge of jealousy stabbed Raynie’s heart.
Then he pulled himself from the moment and faced her. “Ask away.”
“You want something to drink?”
“No. I’m good.” He smiled. “Damn, you look like her.”
“That’s what everyone says.” She motioned to the sofa, and he took a spot on the end. Raynie slid into the chair across from him. “How did you meet?”
“I brought a load of pumpkins for the school’s fall festival.”
“So while you were unloading passion overcame you?”
He laughed. “She told me you were quirky. It wasn’t like that. We talked. She gave me her card. I couldn’t get her off my mind and I thought the attraction was mutual. Knew she was married. Didn’t care. Called anyway.”
“So the affair started in October?”
“A year ago October. Silbie was in kindergarten.”
Raynie pressed a hand to her throat. “Oh. I guess it was more than a fling.”
“A lot more. Because of Evan’s affairs, she didn’t love him anymore. They went through the motions for Silbie’s sake.”
“But they were seeing a marriage counselor.”
“Not to save it. To reach an amicable decision about Silbie. Evan wanted to take everything from Celeste, including full custody.”
Raynie took a beat to let his words soak in. “If Evan had a history of cheating, no judge would have given more weight to Celeste’s infidelity than Evans, or did he know about you?”
“No, he didn’t. She called the night before the accident and said she planned to end therapy and go forward with the divorce. She agreed to give Evan the house, car, savings—all that he wanted except Silbie.”
Funny how Raynie thought Evan had been the love of her sister’s life, but to start over as a single mother, with nothing, disproved that idea. She wondered how long Celeste had been unhappy. Or if Clint was her first affair. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Her head hurt from all the speculation. She looked up at him. “So, she just gave up?”
“Not exactly. She needed it over quickly before Evan found out she was pregnant—with my baby.”
If you can’t get them off your mind, then
maybe they’re supposed to be there.
~~Picture Quotes
NEWS OF CELESTE’S pregnancy scrambled Raynie’s brain. How could her sister have been so careless? Before Clint left, she’d asked more questions. How far along? How did they meet in secret? Had Silbie seen them together? That concerned her most. Even six-year-olds picked up on things.
Did her sister consider how having a baby with another man would affect Silbie? If Evan and his parents had their way, they’d make sure she resented the child and her mother, too.
Thank God, Silbie knew nothing about Clint. He and Celeste had the perfect arrangement. He pretended to be a client. Even paid for sessions to keep Evan from getting suspicious, and they always met at Clint’s house.
Raynie thought about it so much, she couldn’t remember what she’d done most of the day, but somehow cooked and cleaned before her guests arrived.
By the time Dak, Quinn and Molly showed up, anxiety clu
ng to Raynie like a heavy winter coat. As stupid as it was, Raynie felt responsible for her sister’s unhappiness. If she’d only stayed in touch. Called more. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could have saved the marriage, but she could have been a sounding board.
Just after six o’clock, her friends arrived and Raynie had supper waiting. Silbie loved Molly and spent the whole evening keeping the toddler busy. Maybe she’d been wrong about Silbie’s acceptance of a younger sibling even if they didn’t share the same dad. She couldn’t help but be thankful the child wouldn’t be tested.
After Dak and the kids went to bed, Raynie and Quinn stayed up talking, mainly about Celeste and the mess she’d gotten herself into. Even though it didn’t matter anymore, Raynie was still trying to understand how her sensible sister took so many risks. Not with her own future, but with Silbie’s.
Quinn yawned, then stretched. “I’ve got to call it a night—or I should say morning. After I’ve had some sleep, I want to hear about this preacher.”
Raynie had avoided the subject all evening, because the less she thought about Jared, the better. “I’m not seeing him anymore. Declared myself cured. Discovered cooking and baking are as therapeutic as talking.”
Quinn laughed. “The meal you prepared tonight shocked me. Parenthood has changed you.” She rose and stared down at her friend. “Well, after the way you’ve gushed over the phone about Jared, I’m not sure you’re cured.”
“I never gushed.”
“Oh yes, you did.” She leaned over and kissed the top of Raynie’s head. “Speaking of babies. Dak wants another one.”
No surprise there. He was forty and if he wanted to get the kids out of the house before he retired, timing was important. “What do you want?”
“Molly is a year old now and my clock is still ticking, so if we want more, we should get busy.”
Raynie held up her hand and pressed her thumb and index finger almost together. “The two of you give me a teeny-tiny-itty-bitty ray of hope for lasting love even if the odds are about a trillion to one.”
Quinn slid the band from her hair and fluffed out the strands. The dark curls made her chocolate eyes intensify. “I’m the poster child for it happening when you least expect it. After lying about who I was, and keeping the pregnancy from him, it’s a miracle it worked out. I love him so much sometimes I ache all over.”
“Yeah, well, I like the new look he has going.”
“Me, too. He’s given up haircuts and shaving until his vacation ends. Who knew scruffy men turned me on? Nighty-night.”
As Raynie drifted off, Silbie climbed in and snuggled next to her. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Is it almost time for the dance?”
“No. It’s barely Saturday. Go back to sleep.” One kitten burrowed into Raynie’s hair, while the other snaked beneath the covers and settled on her foot. She smiled. This defined motherhood. Sharing a bed with two pets and a child. If only Jared were here, it’d be perfect.
ON FRIDAY, JARED STARED at his phone a dozen times thinking he’d call Lauren again. Even went as far as putting half the numbers in, but backed out. His heart wasn’t in it. Why bother? He couldn’t close the deal before and nothing had changed. Lauren wasn’t the one he wanted.
Hard to admit he and Beth were alike. She obsessed over him and he couldn’t stop thinking about Raynie. At least he wasn’t crazy enough to follow her, but he’d never begged a woman to like him and wouldn’t start now. If it was female companionship he needed, there were plenty to choose from. Lord knew he’d gone through enough one night stands when Julie left.
At five-thirty, he strapped his legs into a wheelchair and joined his brother, along with Kyle, Marc, and Sean on the basketball court in a contest Jace called Gimp the Goal. If he played, everyone used a chair. Maggie’s rules. In the beginning, it’d been the hardest physical challenge Jared faced, but after months of practice, he got the hang of it.
Forty minutes into the match, Jared spun around and hooked a shot into the air and missed again. The ball bounced off the backboard, Sean rebounded, and called time out. “Hey, man. You’re off your game.”
Jace chuckled. “He’s got lady troubles.”
Marc wheeled to an ice chest, took out a bottle of water for himself, then pitched one to his partner. “Sean’s giving cooking lessons to a couple of available women. An eager divorcee and a single woman. He can hook you up.”
Jared helped himself to a drink. “I’m not interested.”
“You might be. Describe the single chick, Sean.”
“She’s hot. A little weird, but I bet wild in the sack. She’s got striped hair which is funny because her name is Raynebeaux.”
“Ho-lee shit,” Jace said. “She’s the trouble.”
“Are you serious?”
“Damn straight. Go ahead, big bro. Tell them how she thinks you’re a sanctified saint.”
Jared threw the ball hard at Jace. “You need to keep your trap shut.”
He caught it and set it in his lap.
“Hey, too late for that.” Kyle, Marc and Sean formed a semi-circle around the accused.
“So? What’s the story?”
Jace chuckled. “There can’t be another woman in Lubbock with that name. It has to be her. He was in the church parking lot and she mistook him for a preacher and he didn’t correct her.”
Every man but Jared broke into laughter.
Kyle pulled his brows together. “So you’ve already been hitting that?”
“No. I haven’t. I barely know her. I think she’s seeing someone.”
Sean shook his head. “Don’t think so. But she’s got company coming this weekend. Could be a man.”
Following basketball, Jared stood in the shower under a pulsating spray of hot water. The exercise worked to relieve some of his tension until Sean mentioned Raynie, and Jace spilled his guts. With a threat of bodily harm, he’d sworn the chef to secrecy. No reason to tell the truth now he wasn’t seeing her anymore. The lie was something he’d always regret, but in time, it would become a joke among friends. Already was. At his expense.
After a quick trip to check on his dad, Jared returned home and twisted the lid on his first longneck. He surfed the sports channels then flipped back and forth, but couldn’t get interested. After his sixth beer, he didn’t give a shit about much of anything, so he stumbled down the hallway and fell into bed.
ON SATURDAY MORNING, Raynie woke early and put a breakfast casserole into the oven. If last night’s menu impressed her guests, they’d go crazy for this meal. A mixture of scrambled eggs, sausage, and mushroom soup topped with cheese, along with homemade biscuits and blackberry jam she’d bought at a local farmer’s market. For an added touch, she’d made honey butter. Silbie loved it on everything.
Quinn strolled into the kitchen. “Where’s that husband of mine?”
“He’s outside finding things to fix. So far, a loose gutter.”
“You know how handy he is, so if something needs repair, ask. After sitting behind a desk all day, he loves doing stuff like that.”
“I can’t think of anything. But I want him to go through the tools in the garage. If he finds something he wants, take it.”
The door opened and Mr. Fix-it stepped inside. “I thought I’d better wait until the kids wake before I start hammering.”
He walked over to Quinn and kissed her. “You came to bed late.”
“We got to talking and time flew.”
Quinn faced her friend again. “Now, before Silbie wakes up, tell me about your minister friend.”
Raynie rolled dough while she talked. “He’s not mine. Not by a long shot. He has a girlfriend. You’ll meet him later. He’s taking Silbie to the school dance.” Raynie punched circles with a biscuit cutter and placed them on a cookie sheet. “I should warn you. When he gets here, don’t look in his eyes. They’re like a river. No. An ocean. No . . . lagoons. Deep blue lagoons. You’ll drown in them.”
She stared into space for a
moment then went back to the dough. “And his lips . . . avoid them, too. They’re so kissable. Actually.” She lifted her finger in the air and circled her face, flour flying like a snow flurry. “This whole area is the Bermuda Triangle of lust.” She put the last round on the pan and carried it to the oven. “Oh, and he was a baseball player, so he has a great ass.”
Quinn folded her arms. “I am not having this argument with you again. Football players have the best butts, hands down.”
“No, baseball players.”
Quinn eyed her husband. “Help me out here, baby. Turn around.”
He shot her a glare that said no way. “I can’t believe you’re discussing this guy’s ass, and no I will not show Raynie mine.” Then he flashed a wicked grin at his wife. “But if you’ll follow me to the bedroom, I’ll gladly give you a private viewing . . . of more than my rear.” He wrapped her in his arms and planted a sensuous kiss.
She placed her hand on his chest and pushed. “Behave.”
Raynie set the timer. “Go ahead. You’ve got twenty minutes. Somebody in this house should be getting some.”
Dak took his wife’s hand and pulled her forward. “You heard her. Come on. Time’s a wasting.”
JARED’S HEAD POUNDED, and he scolded himself for using such poor judgement. He flopped to his back and focused on the ceiling. A small sliver of light crawled from the blinds and spotlighted a spider spinning a web in the corner. The longer he watched, the more in sync his brain throbbed, as if the thing was playing drums inside his skull.
He closed his eyes to break the rhythm, and the beat slowed. Then he remembered what day it was. The dance. He had things to do. Pick up his suit at the cleaners, Silbie’s corsage, and swap vehicles with his mom. Her car would be better for his young date.
It took him a while to get going, but by noon, he’d finished his errands, so he drove to the office. Might as well use his time wisely. After booting up the computer, he buried himself in work.
Hours flew by, and at day’s end, he’d barely thought of Raynie. But in a short while, he’d see her again, and it would be torture. Even worse, if her guest was a man.