Crush on You

by Christie Ridgway

  “I don’t have anything sexy,” she blurted out.

  His palm brushed her hair off her forehead. “I hate to argue with such a beautiful girl on such a beautiful morning. However . . .” His other hand loosened the belt and the robe parted at the center. His fingertips tickled her belly and then slid up to cup her breast. “You’re wrong,” he said, tweaking her nipple.

  She moaned, and in her own ears it sounded overloud. His half smile grew smug. “Music to my ears,” he whispered against one of hers.

  Her knees wobbled. “Penn.” Was his name a plea or an admonishment? She leaned into him, still not sure. “Penn . . .”

  The sound of rubber tires on the gravel outside the house had her leaping back. She yanked the sides of her robe together again. “Someone’s here.”

  He strolled to the back door and pulled the gingham curtains covering the glass aside in order to glance through. “You’re right.”

  She’d already retied her robe. Now she shooed him in the direction of the staircase. “Go on, go on,” she urged.

  Knuckles rapped on wood just as she was pouring from the pot of fresh coffee. Taking deep breaths, she crossed to the door and pulled it open. On the other side stood Tommy’s mother.

  “Sally.” The tips of her ears felt hot and she resisted the urge to peek over her shoulder to make sure Penn wasn’t loitering nearby. “You’re an early riser this morning.”

  “And you are, too,” the woman said, stepping into the room with a large box in her arms. “I feel like there’s so much to do before Saturday.”

  “You’ll get everything done,” Alessandra assured her. “The wedding will be perfect.”

  From somewhere above, a loud thump sounded. Her stomach tumbled, but she gave the older woman her most serene smile, as if every day invisible elephants dropped hand weights overhead. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Love it,” Sally answered, sliding the box she held onto the kitchen table. “And I’d love the chance to talk to Penn, too.”

  Another stomach somersault. “How, um, why would you think, uh . . .” Did Sally know he was here? Alessandra thought frantically. Of course Sally couldn’t know he was here. “Maybe later . . .”

  “Now works for me,” Penn said, strolling into the room.

  Alessandra wanted to scream. What was he doing? She was wearing her thick-as-a-rug, utilitarian robe and Penn appeared as relaxed as any morning visitor—thank God he’d put on his shirt—but it wouldn’t be a huge leap to imagine they’d spent the night together doing all sorts of un-nun-like activities. It was possible she’d never forgive him for not staying hidden upstairs.

  Sally smiled at him. “I recognized your truck out front.”

  Damn. Damn! Caught red-faced, and it was all his fault.

  He glanced at Alessandra, his eyebrows slightly raised and she knew he could read her mind. “Had to do some minor repairs here this morning,” he said. “Now there’s a new washer in the faucet.”

  On the way to the coffeemaker he passed by Alessandra, leaning close. “And you’re almost out of toothpaste,” he said in a near-soundless whisper. His fingers gave her behind a teasing caress.

  She had to swallow her squeak. And her indignation, she supposed, because Sally didn’t seem to suspect a thing as he poured a mug of coffee for her as well as for himself. The two chatted about the weather.

  Still nervous that the older woman might guess the truth, Alessandra tried getting rid of one of the guilty parties in the room. “Penn, thanks so much for dropping by this morning, but didn’t you say you had to be leaving ASAP?”

  He cut her another look that she pretended not to see. She didn’t understand it, anyway. Surely he wasn’t displeased with her attempt at pretense. Hadn’t they agreed from the beginning that this would be their secret?

  After a moment, he gave a little shrug, then glanced down. “Sure. I’ll just go collect my . . . tools.”

  Shoes! He meant shoes! He was still barefoot, and if Sally caught on to that . . . Alessandra rubbed her forehead as Penn headed out of the kitchen. “Did you just drop by, Sally, or . . .”

  “Oh!” The older woman laughed. “I brought something for you. Can you believe I almost forgot?” She set her mug beside the cardboard box she’d arrived with and then placed her palms on either side of it.

  Alessandra didn’t have a clue. “Well?”

  “It’s been such a wonderful few days,” Tommy’s mother said. “I’m so thrilled with the plans for Clare’s wedding, and I . . .” She ran her hands over the box, almost caressing the cardboard. “I have a few things that I think I’m ready to pass on to you. No. That I know that I’m ready to pass on to you.”

  Alessandra’s skin went hot, then icy. Pinpricks burst along the nape of her neck. “What . . . what kind of things?”

  “Keepsakes of Tommy’s. Of course I have many that I’ve put away for the family, but I thought these might be of special meaning to you.” She pushed the box toward Alessandra.

  It seemed to writhe and rattle like a snake. Her hand white-knuckled the back of a kitchen chair to keep from falling . . . or running.

  Sally was still smiling. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  A warm hand wrapped one of Alessandra’s hands fisted around the chair. Penn. She looked up at him, offering to give him a thousand pardons if he could get her out of this. He squeezed her fingers.

  “I thought since you’re here, Sally, I could take you down for another look at the cottage,” he said. “Make sure it’s all to your satisfaction. I have a few extra minutes.”

  “Oh.” The inch-and-a-half of assorted gold bracelets on the older woman’s slender wrist jingled as she gestured toward the boxed belongings. “But I wanted Alessandra to look through these—”

  “I’m sure you’ll agree it can wait. Clare’s wedding, on the other hand . . .”

  That prod carried the exact right voltage to get Sally moving. “Of course, of course,” she answered, already heading for the door.

  Penn and Alessandra trailed behind. “I’ll stay here and get dressed,” she whispered to him. “Thanks.”

  His smile was perfunctory and he strode ahead to catch up with Sally. Alessandra descended the steps in their wake.

  The older woman tucked her hand in his arm. “Is there something in particular that needs my attention?” she asked Penn.

  Before he could answer, another car came speeding toward the farmhouse. Clare’s Camry. It came to a smooth stop, so quiet that it reminded Alessandra she needed to get her sedan into Gil’s shop. Her brakes were squealing. And hey, maybe she could make an appointment right then and there, because it was her cousin who was getting out of the passenger seat of Clare’s car. He looked great, brawny and bold and . . . happy.

  Happy?

  Her gaze snapped to Clare whose wide eyes were trained on her mother as she climbed from her seat. “Mom.” She swallowed. “I was going to come by and see you later.”

  A questioning note entered her voice as she turned to Alessandra. “I called you last night. Your cell wasn’t on this morning.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Guilt had her glancing at Penn. But he was focused on the couple by the car, and . . .

  The couple by the car.

  A premonition slithered down her spine. Her feet moved backward, her heels bumping against the first tread of the stairway. “I’ve got to get back inside . . .” She made a vague gesture with her arm.

  Clare frowned. “But I came to speak with you.”

  “Your mom’s here,” Alessandra said, feeling her way up two steps. “Visit with your mom.”

  Penn moved quickly, catching her arm. “She’s here for you,” he reiterated.

  But she didn’t want to hear what Clare had to say! She tried shaking free of his hold, shooting him a glare. “Her mother—”

  “Should probably learn this at the same time as you, anyway,” Clare offered. She looked up as Gil came to stand beside her. The smile she sent him was sweet.


  It made Alessandra’s stomach hurt. She tried moving again, but Penn kept her tight to his side.

  Clare’s gaze cut again to her mother. “Mom, I’m not marrying Jordan.”

  Sally stepped back. Alessandra, too, stumbling against the next step. Penn caught her arm to steady her.

  “But . . . but . . .” Sally said. “The wedding is just days away. You’ve never hinted . . .”

  “I know.” Clare gave a weak smile. “But it’s like this Star Trek episode,” she said. “It’s titled ‘This Side of Paradise, ’ and the Enterprise lands on an agricultural colony to evacuate the colonists endangered by fatal Berthold rays. No one wants to leave—”

  “Clare.” Alessandra’s voice was firm. “Star Trek isn’t a guidebook for life.”

  “Wait,” Penn said. “I know this one. Spock got all hot and bothered with an old love interest, which made it pretty memorable. But the main idea was that everyone on the planet was affected by a plant that made them abnormally happy—happy enough to risk certain death by refusing to leave. It took them experiencing strong emotion to shake them back to reality and themselves.”

  Clare was nodding. “I was just going along with the marriage plans until something shook me up.”

  “What?” Sally slid a look toward Gil. “Did—”

  “Jordan was cheating on me, Mom.” Color flagged Clare’s cheeks. “For the last few months he’s found time to be intimate with someone else, though he was always too busy for us to be alone. I don’t think that’s right, even if he said it didn’t have any more meaning to him than a lap dance.”

  “Cheating on you?” Sally blinked, obviously trying to absorb the news and its ramifications. “This can’t be. I don’t. . . . Oh, Clare.”

  Her daughter’s voice hardened. “ ‘Oh, Clare’ isn’t the right response, Mom. I didn’t disappoint you.”

  “No. Well . . .” Sally put her hand to her head. “But Jordan’s parents, Grandmère—”

  “I suspect Grandmère understands Jordan better than we did,” Clare replied. “It explains why she gives him an annual stipend as an incentive not to gamble. She knows he wants to. She knows he’s into risky behavior.”

  “But . . . but . . . he’s a stockbroker!” Sally protested.

  “Mom,” Clare said on a sigh. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you.”

  Penn laughed, then covered up the sound with a cough. “Or maybe he’s just a selfish jerk, Clare. I think you have dodged a bullet.”

  “Thank you,” Clare said. “And there’s more. More that everyone should know.”

  Alessandra tried retreating toward the kitchen again. Penn let her make it to the small back porch before his hold tightened again. “Stay put,” he said.

  Clare straightened her spine. “Like I said, I’m not marrying Jordan.” Then she looked over at Gil and he smiled at her, that happy clear on his face. Alessandra felt another weird cramp in her chest.

  “We’re getting married—and right away,” Gil said, taking hold of Clare’s hand. “Clare and I are in love and we want to spend the rest of our lives together, not just as best friends, but as husband and wife.”

  Sally didn’t crumple, but her expression signaled her dismay. “I . . . oh . . . You know what I think . . .”

  “I think you’re being foolish,” Clare said, and her eyes were hard and her voice tight. “I think you should be listening to me and trying to understand how I feel.”

  “Oh, Clare.” Sally’s hands fluttered at her sides and her gaze flickered between her daughter and Gil.

  “Congratulate us, Mom,” Clare said, steely again. “This time, say ‘Oh, Clare, I think you finally have it right.’ ”

  Gil shook his head at her, and his voice softened. “Baby, don’t throw out ultimatums and don’t put words in her mouth. It doesn’t matter—”

  “Oh, Clare, I think you finally have it right,” Sally broke in, breathless.

  “Mom?” Clare blinked. Gil appeared poleaxed.

  “I’ve lost one child.” Tommy’s mother sounded fierce. “I still don’t understand that. But this I do know. I’m not about to lose another. Not like this. Not because of love.” Then she turned to Gil and straightened her shoulders. “Congratulations. If there’s one thing I believe about you, it’s that you have my daughter’s happiness at the forefront of your mind.”

  “Whoa. Class act,” Penn murmured in Alessandra’s ear. “And I think that’s our cue to leave the stage.”

  But Clare held them up again. She looked to Allie, then back to her mom. “One last thing. Our wedding—mine and Gil’s—won’t be here at Tanti Baci on Saturday.”

  Sally gasped. “But—”

  “That ceremony was orchestrated by you, Mom, and that’s not the way I plan to start my new life. My wedding will be my own.”

  For a moment Alessandra considered cheering. Clare, standing up for herself! But then the words sank in—and she realized they were the ones she’d dreaded hearing since her friend drove up with Gil. The wedding won’t be here at Tanti Baci on Saturday.

  She broke Penn’s grasp and flew down the steps. There had to be a wedding at Tanti Baci on Saturday! “It’s all set,” she cried out. “Everything in place.”

  It’s how we’re going to save the winery!

  She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and she looked from Clare to Gil as they rolled down her cheeks. “Don’t you see? Don’t you understand?”

  A strong arm slid around her waist. Penn’s arm. “Congratulations!” he said in a hearty voice, then lifted her off her feet. “We’d stay and chat, but Alessandra has to . . . has something to do.”

  He was carrying her toward the house, even as she was trying to formulate the right words to say to the couple. Or maybe that was the wrong way to go about this.

  “Should I phone Jordan?” she called to Clare over Penn’s shoulder. “We have to have that wedding, and if he grovels enough would you consider—”

  The kitchen door cut off her proposition. Penn dumped her on her feet on the floor, then stared her down, blocking her path to the outside and any resolution to this fresh problem.

  “You don’t understand,” she told him. “I have to talk to Clare about Jordan.”

  “You’ve got the first part right,” he said grimly. “I sure as hell don’t understand why the Daydream Believer is giving a pass to some asshat who was cheating on his bride-to-be just days before their wedding.”

  “He said it was like a lap dance,” she protested.

  Penn crossed his arms over his chest. “Sex isn’t a lap dance. And even then . . . when I go to bachelor parties I consider it my sworn duty as a friend to keep even the drunkest groom from doing so much as tucking a ten-spot into a G-string.”

  She waved his comment away. “We have a ceremony scheduled for Saturday”—the ceremony that was going to save the winery!—“and—”

  “This isn’t about a ceremony, Alessandra. This is about Clare and Gil and about their ever-after. That happy thing.” He glared at her. “Don’t look at me like I’ve grown a unicorn’s horn in the middle of my forehead. Maybe I’m not the most obvious spokesman for the bridal brigade, but someone’s got to talk sense when you’re throwing love under the bus for your business.”

  Tanti Baci wasn’t just a business. It was where she’d lost the best of her heart and buried the brightness of her future. “Penn—”

  “No.” He leaned against the door. “You won’t be talking to Clare.”

  She opened her mouth to reason with him. To rage at him, if need be. Then she heard both Sally and Clare’s cars start up. Alessandra ran to the kitchen window to see them drive away. “I might never forgive you for this,” she told Penn.

  But from the look on his face, she had the oddest feeling that she was close to the line that he might find unforgivable.

  “She made me move the box, Stevie,” Giuliana said, a note of censure in her voice.

  “I didn’t want to touch it.” Alessandra appea
led to the middle Baci sister. The memories it might invoke were too scary to contemplate. Weren’t the letters enough? “You understand.”

  “Really? No.” Stevie tucked her hair behind her ears and scanned the surroundings. The sidewalk tables outside Barely Bistro offered a good view of the town square and the tourists and locals going about their summer midday business. “This was a good idea. When was the last time we went to lunch together?”

  Alessandra had called them both after Penn left that morning. She and her oldest sister had ridden to town together, but first she’d begged Jules to stuff the box Sally had brought into the hall closet.

  Maybe she’d be ready to deal with Tommy’s things by the time she needed her umbrella and raincoat. Probably not.

  “Looking through those things could heal you, Allie. Don’t you think you should give it a try?” Giuliana sent a pointed look across the small table. “Because you know avoiding unpleasant things never works.”

  “Says the voice of experience,” Stevie added drily. “Considering Jules spent a decade on the run from Liam.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” Giuliana said. “Allie, I’m right, and you should listen to me.”

  After their mother died, Jules had taken on a maternal role with her two younger sisters, particularly Alessandra. But she didn’t remember her sister being so bossy and she definitely wasn’t in the mood for a lecture now. “You know what? Your mothering skills stink.”

  Giuliana froze, her expression revealing sudden pain.

  “What?” Annoyance forgotten, Alessandra half-rose from her chair. “What hurts?”

  Her older sister shook herself. “Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Their waitress came out with their food and once they were served and their iced teas topped off, Giuliana was again wearing a stubborn expression. “Back to what we were talking about . . .”

  Alessandra shook her head. She’d decided to give herself an indefinite pass on the box, because there was a more pressing matter. And her sisters weren’t going to like this, either. “There’s a bigger problem.”