No, I’ve found my life, he wanted to say. Except why ruin the good mood? So all he said was, “A lot easier than you might think.” When she frowned, he added, “This is the first time I’ve…” He caught himself before he said, been on a date, figuring that would not go over well. “I’ve shared a meal with someone where my phone wasn’t the third person at the table. Not only did my companions not appreciate it, I didn’t enjoy it, either. Believe me, multitasking is highly overrated.”
She gave him more of that steady gaze, then said, “You know, you sound tired. I don’t mean physically—”
“No, I know what you mean. And you’re right, I am. For once in my life I’d like to focus on one thing and savor it, rather than three or four and not enjoy any of them. And right now,” he said, grasping her free hand, “I’m here, having lunch with you, and enjoying the heck out of it. So can I have my moment, please?”
For several seconds her eyes held his, as sharp and discerning as an old woman’s. “Sure,” she said, at last, her smile relaxing more than it had yet, and his heart seized up so hard and fast he nearly flinched. Wendy was right, he had it bad.
Speaking of his sister…
“By the way,” he said, releasing Christina’s hand, “Wendy suggested you might like to come help her make decorating decisions about her nursery.”
“Oh, Scott…” Her eyes lowered, she removed her napkin, painstakingly refolding it before tucking it underneath the rim of her plate. Then her mouth twisted into a funny little smile, the same one she’d given him when he’d first mentioned his sister. “What do I know about decorating?”
“Knowing Wendy, I imagine she used the term help very loosely. Basically, I think she’s looking for a yes-man. Or in this case, woman. So will you do it? Might do both of you good. And I think…she could use a friend.”
He’d stopped short of saying he thought Christina could use a friend, even if it was true. Because right now it was patently clear the woman sitting across from him needed to regain her footing, in more ways than one. And one of those, he surmised, was by feeling needed. Useful.
“Maybe in a few days,” she finally said, the smile reappearing. “When I’m feeling more…myself.”
“Good deal,” he said, gesturing to the waitress for the check. “Now where’s the best place to shop for a car around here?”
“San Antonio. But, Scott—I can’t even drive yet—”
“Strike while the iron’s hot, I always say.” The credit card slip signed, he got to his feet. “And I’m in the mood to buy something. You might want to take advantage of that.”
She gave him a look that could either have been indulgent or exasperated. Then she sighed, and there was no doubt at all what that meant.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t mean to push you—”
“Like you’re not hardwired to do exactly that. And if I told you no, flat out, that I don’t want you buying me a car, you’d probably do it anyway. Right?”
“Can I admit I’d at least be tempted?”
Her mouth pulled flat. Definitely exasperated. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Let me buy you a car?” he said, and she gave a weary laugh, those sweet eyes finally touching his.
“Will it really make you happy?”
He came around to help her stand, trying to figure out why the scent of her drugstore shampoo should wreak such havoc on his senses. Let alone his common sense. Because what would make him happy right now wasn’t anything they could do in Red, that was for damn sure.
Nor was there any way he could tell her a few thousand dollars meant nothing to him and not come across like some ego-bloated braggart who assumed money could buy him any woman he wanted.
So all he said was, “Yes. It would make me very happy. Will that work for you?”
“I guess it’ll have to, won’t it?” she said, then started toward the door.
Somehow he thought victory was supposed to feel sweeter than this.
Chapter Seven
Christina sat on the porch in the warm afternoon sun, her leg propped up, staring at the pretty little VW Jetta. Silver. Three years old, barely twenty thousand miles on it. A week on and she still couldn’t believe it was hers.
Which only added to the rapidly growing list of things she was having a hard time believing. Like Scott’s still being here after two weeks. Not to mention her sorta getting used to letting him do stuff for her. Without feeling guilty about it, even. Or at least not as much.
Beside her, in an original-edition webbed lawn chair, Enid grunted. “I cannot believe you let the man buy you a car.”
Which the older woman had only said a million times since she’d first seen it sitting in the parking lot. And with no less vexation in her voice now than the first time. Never mind that she’d told Christina yesterday that Scott had paid up her rent three months in advance. Or that he’d ferried Enid to Walmart right after. Both on the sly, of course. Honestly, Christina never knew whether to hug or strangle the man. Or strangle herself. On the upside, at least there’d been no more silly talk about her past. Or those “real” feelings he’d mentioned a week ago. ’Cause for sure somebody’d be dead by now if there had been.
“Well, I did. And don’t tell me you can’t wait until I drive you to your hair appointment in it.”
“It does look like a very nice car, I gotta admit. So where’s Lover Boy today?”
“I don’t know and don’t call him that. He said he had some things to take care of. I didn’t figure it was any of my business to ask what.”
“He going back home soon?”
Her heart knocking in her chest, Christina looked over to where Gumbo was rustling around in the underbrush, looking for something to chase. Or pee on. “I suppose.”
“You don’t know?”
“Don’t see how that’s any of my business, either,” she said, and Enid grunted. “By the way, did I tell you? I registered to take online classes for the next semester, so I don’t have to worry about getting to campus. I also did some research and found this website that matches up tutors with kids who need help with basic skills. We can either work together in person or on Skype.”
“What’s that?”
“This cool computer hookup where you can see the person you’re talking to. You know that jewelry commercial where the guy overseas is talking to his wife and son? That’s Skype.”
“Oh.” Then her landlady shook her head. “I swear, things move too damn fast for me to keep up.”
Christina laughed. “Don’t feel bad. Even I feel as if technology changes every five minutes. Anyway, soon as the outfit that runs the program finishes up my background check to make sure I’m okay to work with kids, I’ll have a job. And one that pays a lot better than waitressing at the airport ever did, that’s for sure. And why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you are one of the smartest gals I ever met, and that’s a fact.”
“Hardly—”
“And don’t you go acting all modest on me. It’s true. I mean, look at you—instead of wallowing in your troubles, you figure out how to solve your problems. You are something else, young lady—”
“Hey. I wallowed. I wallowed plenty.”
“For, what? A week?” She blew a dismissive pfhh through her lips.
“And if Scott hadn’t jumped in to help with the medical expenses, and the car—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but that’s all the immediate stuff. What you did, that’s taking care of the future. Did Lover Boy have anything to do with that?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then just accept the damn compliment, will you?” Over Christina’s chuckle, Enid added, “You know, I’m gonna miss you like nobody’s business when you leave.�
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Christina’s head snapped around. “Leave? No way. Red Rock’s my home, Enid. Where I belong. Unless you got a crystal ball in your pocket that knows something I don’t.”
“No, but I’ve been around a lot longer than you, which means I’m real good at readin’ people. You ain’t even begun to reach your full potential, and…and you don’t need to be letting some man derail you, neither, making you all starry-eyed and whatnot and then first thing you know you can’t remember the last time you did something for yourself. You got things to do, missy, even if you don’t know yet what those are…and now why are you laughing at me?”
“Because you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. In case you forgot. You bet I’ve got things to do, but there’s nothing saying I can’t do them right here in Red Rock. Or close by, anyway. I’m not about to let a man mess with my head, believe me.” She thought about the look in Scott’s eyes that night, like he would’ve liked nothing more than to sweep her off to Atlanta to turn her into a proper Southern lady. A thought that made her shudder. “Or take me places I don’t want to go.” Then she said, “You don’t like Scott, do you?”
“Ain’t got nothing to do with liking the boy. I like him just fine. He’s good folks, far as I can tell. But it ain’t me he’s courting, is it?”
“He’s not courting me, either—”
“The hell he ain’t. And a man like that, he can be hard to resist. Make a gal forget what she’s about, what she’s got to do. Nothin’ against Scott. I just want you to be sure.”
“Of what?”
“Of whatever you need to be sure about.”
Christina looked away. “No worries. Promise.”
“Well. Okay, then,” her landlady said with a sharp shake of her head that did not so much as disturb a single hair on it. “Got a cleaning crew coming in a bit, you know Marlene and her kids moved out of number 5, right? Left the place in a right mess, too. Least she didn’t stiff me for the last month’s rent like so many of ’em do, but it’s gonna cost me near that much to get the place back in decent shape…” She stopped, her lips pulled thin. “I love you, girl, you know that, right?”
Tears pricked at Christina’s eyes. “I love you, too, Enid. But I’m okay. Promise.”
Which she sternly told herself after Enid left and she saw the Escalade turn into the parking lot, and her heart ka-thumped so hard in her chest it nearly made her burp. She hadn’t been expecting him, even though he’d shown up every single day. Sometimes twice. But expecting him—expecting anything—would have been foolish, and she liked to think she’d outgrown foolish a long time ago.
Gumbo, of course, bounded over to the car before Scott had even cut the engine, all flapping ears and wagging everything. Because dogs had no pride. Or inhibitions. You love somebody, you let him know. Simple. To the point.
And when Scott finally disentangled himself from Gumbo’s totally inappropriate PDA and lifted his eyes to Christina’s, she thought—with a sharp pang—how much easier it would be to be a dog. To simply love because that’s what you did, with no regard for the consequences. Or worry about potential heartbreak.
But she wasn’t a dog. She was a human being whose brain and heart—and body, no point leaving that out of the equation—were at severe odds with each other right now. Because for all that she really was grateful he hadn’t said anything more, she got the real strong feeling the issue had not, by any means, been laid to rest.
And right now? Watching Scott Fortune cross toward her like he owned the whole state, his eyes fixed on hers in the way of a man who clearly had hanky-panky on his mind?
It wasn’t the fantasy scaring the bejeebers out of her.
It was the reality.
She was giving him the same look she always did, a fake aloofness she had no clue how to pull off with any degree of conviction.
Oh, he had no doubt her resistance was sincere, that there were real reasons behind the ambivalence haunting her eyes, her blatant avoidance of any prolonged physical contact. She was clearly leery, although whether of him or relationships in general, he still had no idea.
And over the past week, that had begun to worry him more and more. Not her wariness, but the very real danger that…she might be onto something. That the thrill of the challenge might be motivating his interest far more than he wanted to admit. After all, Christina was one smart cookie. And when had he last pursued any sort of relationship—business or pleasure—that didn’t serve his self-interest in some way?
Did he even know how to have a relationship for its own sake? To be with someone simply because he wanted to be with her? Was his almost constant ache for Christina—the bad timing on that notwithstanding—simply because it’d been a while, or because he genuinely ached for her?
“What’s up?” she asked, her obvious attempt to keep things light twisting his heart. The pansies nodded at him as he approached, the gentle breeze easing through his Oxford shirt, teasing strands of pale gold across Christina’s cheeks. Her lightweight top was a field of softly blurred flowers, blues and lavenders and deep pinks, lazily strewn across her shoulders. Her breasts. Very feminine. Very her.
“Thought you might like to meet Wendy today,” he said, suddenly realizing exactly how much he wanted to pulverize that wall keeping her locked inside herself…and then shield her from whatever had made her erect that wall to begin with.
At which moment he also realized exactly how groundless his earlier worries were. Oh, yeah, he was in it to win it, no question. But because he wanted her, not because he wanted to win.
“She said the decorator left a bunch of swatches,” he continued, as though all hell wasn’t breaking loose inside his head. “The two of you could have lunch together, I’ll pick you up later.”
Confusion flickered in her eyes. “You won’t be there?”
“No, I’ve got…some business to attend to.”
“Oh. Well, then…” A smile bloomed across her face. “Sure. Why not?”
“And bring the dog. Wendy wants to meet him, too.”
When he opened the rear door, however, for her to climb into the back seat, she shook her head. “The swelling’s all gone. I’d like to sit in front, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
Once again, getting out seemed to relax her. Her enthusiasm contagious, she told him all about her signing up for online classes, her potential job.
“So you like working with kids?”
She nodded, her gaze fixed out the windshield. “I love kids. What about you?”
“I think kids are the neatest things going. The way their minds work—slays me every time.”
Her eyes cut briefly to his. “So…any plans to make a bunch of baby Fortunes?”
“Don’t know about a bunch…but I suppose so. Although, to be honest, I hadn’t really given it much thought until recently.”
“Oh, yeah? What made you change your mind?”
“I never said I was opposed to the idea, it’s just…” His fist tightened around the steering wheel. “Since getting married wasn’t on my radar, neither was having kids. Then we came out here for Wendy’s wedding, and she’s pregnant and happy and…”
“And you got all broody.”
“I suppose.”
Several seconds ticked by before Christina said, “Betcha there’s a whole slew of gals in Atlanta who’d be thrilled to hear that.”
Scott pushed out a dry laugh. “No doubt,” he said, nosing into his sister’s driveway beside a hedge of rangy, unclipped euonymus. “And here we are. It was Marcos’s before they got married. As you can tell, yard work isn’t exactly a top priority…no, wait, let me help you—”
“Nope, got it,” Christina said, pushing open the door, grabbing her crutches from behind his seat and hauling her
adorable little bottom out of the car the same moment Gumbo scrambled out behind her. When Scott reached her, she laughed. “Get me, huh?”
I’d love to, he thought as Wendy waddled outside, looking like a shiny red balloon in her stretchy top. Then Scott noticed his sister’s way-too-high, rope-soled shoes…about the same time Christina did.
“Ohmigosh—those shoes are awesome!” she said, moving much more gracefully with the crutches than she had even a few days ago.
“Thanks!” Wendy said, awkwardly twisting around to show off the three-inch heel, then bending over—sort of—to pet Gumbo. “These are my favorites, I can’t fit my fat feet into anything else these days! And aren’t you the cutest thing going?” she said to the dog, who’d already propped his pudgy feet on her thighs to get some love. Then Wendy turned her smile on Christina. “Well, come on in, I’ve already got lunch on the table, Scott’s told me so much about you—”
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Scott called, but they were already inside.
Laughing softly to himself as he walked back around to the driver’s side, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number already on speed dial. “I can meet you out there in ten minutes,” he said, climbing in behind the wheel and backing out of the driveway.
He still hadn’t decided if he’d lost his mind or finally found it. He did know that whichever that was, none of this was going to be easy. He knew what he wanted, was pretty sure he knew why, but from this point forward it was all uncharted territory.
But as he sped down the highway, his grin stretched his face so hard it hurt.
“You don’t think the colors are too much?”
Grinning at the blinding array of tropical hues splayed out on the nursery’s carpet, Christina shook her head. A few feet away Gumbo snoozed in a puddle of sunlight, ears akimbo. “I love them. Especially this for the drapes,” she said, holding up the bold, contemporary floral print, orange and fuchsia and lemon-yellow flowers on a bright aqua background. Christina sat on the floor, her healing foot stretched out in front of her, while Wendy held court from the aqua-and-white glider already in place in the corner, her feet planted on a matching ottoman.
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