“Ooooh.” She nodded her head slowly then turned to squint in the direction of the sun, then back at him. “Are you firsty?”
Nancy pushed up out of the chair and waddled toward the house. “I’m on it.”
She made it all the way to the back door before remembering they’d never actually made it into the house and the door was still locked. With a frustrated groan she headed back off the deck and all the way around the side of the house to unlock the front door.
With a pit stop in the bathroom to pop a couple more pain pills, it took her nearly ten minutes to be back outside with lemonade for her hard workers. By then, Paul found her wheelbarrow parked behind the shed and had it loaded up ready to be dumped.
She handed him his drink and he finished half of it before handing it back to her. Liza was perched in Nancy’s abandoned chair nursing her sippy cup as she soaked up the sunshine.
“Where do you want this dumped?”
She pointed to the far end of her yard where she had a large brush pile. “Is over there okay?”
“I can put it wherever you want.” He looked at her closely. “What’s wrong? Is your foot hurting?”
She sighed. “I just feel bad. I didn’t intend for you to do all of this by yourself.”
He looked over at Liza. She’d left the chair and was in the middle of the area of the garden they’d been clearing, picking up handfuls of dirt and throwing them in the air, giggling as it rained down over her head. “I have help.”
Nancy groaned. “Now I’ve got to give her a bath before her mamma gets here.” That might have actually been part of the little girl’s plan. She would sit in the tub until her skin fell off if you let her.
Paul watched her for a minute longer before he turned back to Nancy, his dark eyes serious. “How is Beth?”
Nancy shrugged. “As well as can be expected I guess.” She watched as Liza lay down and started rolling. The sound of her giggles carried across the yard. “She’ll be okay. She has to be.”
“She deserves to be better than okay. She deserves to be happy.”
Nancy turned to him. His dark eyes were the color of the sky before a storm. So grey they were almost black. And they were fixed on her. Because he wasn’t talking about Beth. Not really.
“She wants to be happy.” Her voice came out as a whisper. That was all she had. It felt like a confession. Admitting that she wanted happiness.
Because it meant she didn’t already have it.
A tug on her jacket pulled her attention from him. “Nana, I got a little dirty.”
She looked down to find Liza’s light brown hair littered with dirt and bits of leaves. Her clothes were worse. Luckily, she was in play clothes, but they would still have to go in the washer before they had a chance to stain.
“It’s okay honey. Let’s go get you cleaned up.” She motioned to Paul that she was going inside with Liza. He nodded.
She got Liza into the tub and sat on the toilet, giving her a little time to play. The day was going so well, but she honestly had no idea where to go from here.
Her cards were on the table and now came the hardest part.
Waiting for him to show his hand.
TWELVE
“How many?” Paul held one bottle neck in each hand and turned to Hazel.
“You heard me big boy. Three.” She held up three fingers, her painted on eyebrows high on her head. “I’m hosting bridge club this week and it sure as heck isn’t going to be some boring tea party like last week.”
Hazel’s newly cut and styled hair looked particularly white in the overhead fluorescent lighting, but even the bright store couldn’t hide that her skin was about a shade darker than usual. Or maybe just pinker. Some sort of cosmetic layer left her natural skin unobservable.
Since she found a group of older women in town who played cards each week, Hazel’d been a little more… fancy. Clothes that hadn’t seen the light of day in twenty years were being mixed and matched in various and not always complimentary ways. Then there were the shoes.
Paul carefully set the bottles in the shopping cart Hazel had filled with her groceries for the week. They looked amusingly out of place next to the value sized Metamucil. “You think a bunch of old women are going to drink tequila while they play bridge?”
“Not straight.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m making tequila sunrises. Those women wouldn’t do a shot if it was off Cary Grant’s navel.” She gripped the cart handle and pushed off, shuffling along behind it in a pair of heels that barely peeked from the hem of her powder blue pants, grabbing a bottle of Irish cream as she passed. Hazel caught his eye as she rested it in the basket on top of her purse. “For my coffee.”
He shook his head as she sauntered along. “I’m starting to worry about you Hazel.”
“Pshh. What’s the worst that could happen to me? I’m older than dirt and I’ve spent my life taking care of an ungrateful daughter and a crabby old man.” She grabbed a pack of Oreo’s off an end cap and dropped them in the basket. “I want to have fun now.”
That was apparent. Since her husband died last year, Hazel was certainly broadening her horizons. “Do these women know what you’re planning?”
The last thing he wanted was a Tuesday afternoon emergency call from a whole houseful of old women who needed a designated driver. Especially if they were anything like the woman he was carting around today.
Hazel's red lips broadened into a smile. “The whole damn group RSVP’d because of it.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, obviously proud of herself but also not understanding what he was asking.
Paul began unloading her cart while she wrestled a gossip magazine from the rack beside her and started to thumb through the glossy pages, licking her finger before each flip. “That’s great, but how are they getting there? You can’t just send them driving home after.”
Hazel's brow furrowed and she dropped the magazine onto the belt with the rest of her groceries. “They’re doing that Uber thing.” She tugged a tissue free of her sweater sleeve and wiped at her nose, removing a smudge of foundation at the same time. “Did you know they’ll just pick you up at your house and take you wherever, then come back and get ya?”
He pulled the buggy through for the bagger to refill her cart. “I did know that.” He gave her a gentle poke in the ribs. “I’m surprised you did.”
Hazel poked him back. “I don’t need to know. I’ve got your handsome ass to drive me around.” She paid for the groceries and he helped her into her light coat before offering her his arm and walking to the parking lot.
He helped her into the passenger seat then loaded her bags into the back. As soon as her belt was buckled Hazel fished out a tube of lipstick and flipped down the visor.
Paul climbed in and started the truck, eyeballing her as she reapplied the reddest lipstick he’d ever seen. “What in the world are you doing?”
She rubbed her lips together and popped them open. “I want to go to the hardware store. I want a step ladder with handles.” Hazel pushed her tightly curled hair around as she peered into the six square inches of mirror she had to work with. “Plus, rumor has it there’s a new owner and he’s supposed to look like Mel Gibson.”
He didn’t know where she got her information but guessed it was from another eighty-year-old who needed to update her bifocal prescription. “I think they oversold you.” Paul pulled out of the grocery lot, not excited about having to see Noel or Neil of whatever his name was again. “Why didn’t you say this earlier? Now you’ve got a bunch of groceries in the back.”
She waved her hand at him. “They’ll be fine. It’s not hot and I didn’t get anything frozen. Besides, what would I have done then if he wanted me to stay so he could have his wicked way with me? I needed booze for my party.”
“Oh my God.” Paul propped his elbow on the lip where the window met the truck door and leaned his forehead into his hand. He had so many issues with that statement he didn’t know where to start. “I don’t even kn
ow what to say to that.”
Hazel shrugged. “If I get myself a younger man to take care of me, it’ll free you up. Maybe find yourself a new lady friend so you can have your own wicked ways.” She grinned at him completely unaware of the nerve she hit.
“I’m fine.” His voice was short and angry, even to his own ears. He shook his head, feeling like an ass for snapping at her. “I just mean, I don’t mind driving you around.”
Hazel zipped her purse closed, completely unaffected. “That’s good because I have a doctor’s appointment next week and I need a ride.” She blew him a cherry colored kiss and winked.
He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t mind driving her around. It was impossible to stay in a bad mood when the woman was around. “Maybe I should teach you to drive.” Paul parked the truck in the closest spot he could find in front of the hardware store. “Just for fun.”
Hazel shook her head. “Can’t now.” She pointed at her eyes, covered in a heavy layer of blue shadow. “Glaucoma.”
It was probably a good thing. In hindsight, Hazel behind the wheel of a car, even in an empty parking lot, would be a ride his heart might not survive.
By the time he got around to her side, the older woman was already out and adjusting her powder blue slacks. “We need to go shopping Paulie. I wanna get me some of those skinny jeans the ladies are wearing nowadays.”
“You want to wear skinny jeans?” The image of Hazel's bird legs in a pair of tight pants would now be burned into his memory forever. Even without actually seeing it. “I’m not sure you’ll like them.”
She hooked her purse over one arm and started to the storefront. “It’s not about liking them. It’s about being fashionable. I’m well past due for a makeover.”
He pulled the door open and let her slide in first. That was one day he was going to be busy. She could find another chauffer for that fiasco. Doctor’s appointments and grocery shopping, he would do. Driving home drunken Miss Daisy’s and department store skinny jean shopping? Not gonna happen.
“Well, that’s very nice of you, but I’m just fine.”
Paul stopped, his ears straining, as Hazel went on toward the back of the store, her hips sashaying as much as she could manage.
“Oh, no thank you. I can manage very well.”
Paul darted up another aisle to avoid running into Hazel as she continued sauntering along. He knew that voice.
Well.
And it didn’t sound right. Not at all.
By the time Nancy came into view, she was trying to wrestle her hand free from Neil the store owner, a fake smile still plastered on her face. She was propped onto a set of crutches and a large black medical boot was Velcro-ed around her injured foot.
Neil stepped forward as she tried to back up. “I’d be more than happy to take you home. That way your son doesn’t have to worry about it.” He gave her a slick smile. “The store’s empty. I can close it whenever I want.” Then the bastard winked an over-tanned eyelid. “It’s a perk of being the boss.”
Paul walked up behind him, stepping lightly in his boots. The guy wasn’t nearly as tall as he looked standing next to Mike the first time they met. Neil was barely five-ten and Paul towered over him enough to see the bald patch starting at the top of his head. He crossed his arms and cleared his throat.
“Store’s not empty.”
Neil swung around, his nose nearly meeting the middle of Paul’s chest. He had to tip his head back to level his glare. “Can I help you Paul?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I’ll be happy to ring you up before I take Miss Richards home.” He smirked and Paul considered ripping his leather lips right off his leather face.
“You’re not taking her home.” Paul dropped his arms to his sides. “I am.”
“You don’t get to decide that.” Neil snorted. “She doesn’t belong to you.”
Paul gently tugged Nancy’s crutches free and scooped her up. “Doesn’t mean she’s not mine.” He stomped down the aisle, not giving the woman in his arms any options, not that she seemed ready to object. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was hanging open as a blush crept up her face.
“Come on Hazel.” He opened the door with his back as he waited. “We’re leaving.”
The woman made it to the back of the store just in time to witness the whole scene and was busy giving Neil a once over. She scrunched her nose up at him. “Ginny’s a liar. This prick doesn’t look anything like Mel Gibson.”
****
Nancy stared out the windshield trying to ignore the press of Paul’s large, and obviously very strong body, against the side of hers. She tried to keep her expectations, her hopes, low when it came to how things would go with him. All she really wanted was to be his friend.
That’s what she kept trying to tell herself, and that’s what he tried telling her too, but it appeared they had at least one thing in common.
They were both liars.
“You should have slapped that man across his face honey.” The woman in the passenger seat patted her leg with a heavily veined hand. “I’m Hazel. Paulie here dated my daughter a few years back.”
“Shit.” Paul spoke for the first time since they walked out of the hardware store.
Since he walked out of the hardware store anyway.
For the second time in less than a week, Paul did more than sweep Nancy off her feet and that was causing some major shifts within her. Nancy was feeling ways she hadn’t felt in…
Too damn long.
And right now the cab of Paul’s truck was way too full of angry man and Hazel for her to even begin to figure out what she could do about it.
But she was going to do something.
“Paulie that was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen. Like in that movie where Richard Gere carries the girl out of the factory.” Hazel sighed and held her hand over her heart. “My Simon couldn’t have picked me up if his life depended on it.”
Nancy looked down at the tiny woman beside her. She couldn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. “Really?”
Hazel continued to pat Nancy’s leg. “Oh sure honey.” She leaned in. “Not all men are like the one beside you.”
Nancy felt the heat rush back into her chest. She peeked at Paul out of the corner of her eye. “I know that.”
Hazel winked at her. “Then you and I will get along just fine.” She leaned forward to look across Nancy. “Paulie stop pouting.”
Paul looked toward Hazel, his face a mixture of shock and murder. Nancy looked again. Yup. He wanted to kill Hazel.
“I’m not pouting.” He threw the truck into park and opened his door. “And this is your stop.” Nancy waited while Paul helped get Hazel and the groceries he pulled from the back seat into her two-story. She watched as they had a very animated conversation on her porch.
Then Hazel pinched Paul’s ass and grinned at him from her doorway as he stomped back to the truck. Hazel gave her a wave and shut the front door just as Paul slid in beside her.
He barely had time to close his door before Nancy was twisted in her seat, all but climbing on his lap to press her lips on his. She held his face in her hands as she tried to get closer, needing to feel his body against hers. What he did in that hardware store…
Hazel might call it romantic, but it wasn’t. It was the hottest, sexiest, manliest thing she’d ever seen in her whole life.
And it was for her.
He saved her. He protected her. He took care of her. But it was more than that.
He said she was his.
And it made her want to jump him. Right here in the front seat of his old pick-up. She didn’t even care if Hazel's little lady eyes were glued to the windshield while she did it.
“Paul.” She went back to kissing him, wanting to say so much, but wanting to be as close as possible more.
He tried to pull his lips from hers but she held tighter, forcing him to talk around her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Da
mn. Why couldn’t he just go with this?
She slumped back to her seat. “You didn’t mean what you said?”
Paul glanced up toward Hazel's house. “Let’s get you home.” Nancy followed his gaze and sure enough, a pair of eyes peered out from between the curtains.
Nancy smiled and waved. The drapes flipped shut with a jerk. “That woman is something else.”
Nancy watched Paul as he drove, his jaw set, eyes never leaving the road. If he didn’t want to kiss, he was going to have to talk. Maybe he’d circle back just to shut her up. “Hazel said you dated her daughter.”
His already tense jaw started to twitch.
“Did you two date long?” Now that she’d asked it, Nancy realized she really wanted to know the answer. Was Hazel's daughter as much of a spitfire as she was? Was she as tiny of a woman?
Nancy looked down, suddenly feeling very uninteresting and overly sturdy. And not in a good, strong sort of way.
“Couple years.” Paul’s quiet response distracted her from calculating the number of pounds she would have on a woman of Hazel's size.
It was fifty.
Maybe she didn’t want to know any more about this woman. Maybe it would only make her act even more stupid and insecure than she was right now.
“That’s good.” She looked out the window hoping the can of worms she’d opened would quietly shut itself and never return.
“She’s married now.” Paul sighed. “She and her mom had a falling out, so I keep an eye on Hazel. Help her out if she needs anything.”
Nancy turned back to him, watching. The man was such a contradiction. On the outside he appeared strong and solid. Unyielding even.
But inside was a different story.
She was beginning to discover, inside he was anything but. He was sweet and gentle. Caring and nurturing. But with his odd reactions when it came to her, she was worried he was also something else.
Paul was broken.
Nancy slowly stretched her arm and rested it above his knee. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get out of that store.”
He nodded.
“You keep showing up to save me.” She smiled as a barely perceptible blush spread across his neck and a tiny smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.
Regret (Never Waste a Second Chance Book 2) Page 11