“Why can’t he marry us?”
“Honey, that’s not the way it works,” Zoe crouched next to Mia. “But Alex can still be your father.”
“Do you love Mommy?”
Ouch, this particular zinger he’d hoped to miss.
He glanced over at Zoe, silently pleading for a little help. She simply shrugged her shoulders and gave him a quizzical smile.
How did he explain the complicated twists and turns of their relationship? His mouth was dry, his palms sweaty. “Your mother and I were best friends for a very long time. She did everything for me, and I took it for granted. Do you have a best friend? Did you ever get mad at them?”
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The three nodded in unison. That was getting a bit spooky, but he guessed it he’d have to get used to it. “So yes, I love your mother and hope we can be best friends again.”
Three pairs of eyes scanned him up and down until he felt as if he’d landed in an episode of Star Trek and was being probed by aliens. Not far off the mark.
“Okay.” They turned to Zoe. “Can we go to McDonald’s for supper?” ****
By the time Alex threw his keys on his mother’s hall table, he knew he had the onset of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A fast food place and three kids had been an eye opener, as well as an exercise in patience.
Macy spilled her milk on his new jeans.
Michaela didn’t want the same toy as the other two, and Mia picked her hamburger apart into small pieces before she took a bite. The meal lasted a lifetime and then some.
A headache grew from a tiny kernel to full-blown misery. He might be a quick study, but learning to be a father wasn’t going to happen overnight—or in one afternoon. Today, he felt like a goddamned failure.
On the way to the kitchen, he checked his cell phone. Sydney left five messages on his voice mail, but he wasn’t in any mood to listen to what she had to say. He couldn’t think until he got his Gordian knot of a life sorted out.
Alex felt his cell phone vibrate in his hand. He let out a groan. It had to be Sydney again. He glanced down at the caller ID and frowned. Keeley Jacobs.
“This is Alex King.” He tried for a friendly tone, even if it felt like someone kept bouncing medicine 130
A Perfect Bride for Christmas ball from one side of his skull to the other. He didn’t want to make nice right now. He needed a couple of aspirin and a cold beer before he could sort out his thoughts.
“Hello—Alex.” Keeley sounded a less defensive than the last time they talked. “I’d like to take you up on the offer to come to your wedding.”
“Great.” He rubbed his forehead, willing the headache to go away. “There’s not going to be a wedding after all but Mom wants you to come for Christmas. Does that change anything?”
“I’m sorry to hear about the wedding.”
Alex closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Thanks.”
“Would it be possible to come on the eighteenth?
I thought it would be a good idea to get to know everyone beforehand, and well, I need to find out about the financial arrangements. I told you I have a project lined up, but I need cash, or at least something I can say is in the works to get the funding I need. I’m hiring a lawyer and an appraiser to go over the property.”
Alex clenched his jaw tight. His headache roared to epic proportions. “Sure, no problem.” An idea burst through the pain. “Why don’t you stay here at the house? Mom had an accident and broke her ankle so she won’t be able to do a lot of running around.”
“I hope she’s all right.”
Her concern sounded sincere. Alex didn’t want to think of her having compassion. She was the evil half-sister, coming to town to destroy his mother’s life. “She’ll be on crutches for a few weeks.” Alex went into the small bathroom off the kitchen and opened the medicine cabinet. A giant bottle of aspirin sat on the top shelf. He pressed his cell phone between his cheek and shoulder, shook two into his hand, and dry swallowed them. The sharp 131
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taste made his stomach lurch.
“I couldn’t stay with you. A hotel will work just fine.”
Alex worked his tongue to rid his mouth of the nasty taste of the aspirin. “We have a spare room, and Mom really wanted to get to know you. I don’t want to wear her out.”
Keeley didn’t answer right away. Alex waited, willing her to go along with his scheme.
Finally she spoke. “No, I think a hotel would be best. It’s not like you’re welcoming home the prodigal daughter or anything. I’d feel more comfortable, really.”
“Then let me pay for your hotel.”
Another pause but this time she sounded pleased. “All right.”
An olive branch of sorts.
“I’ll be in town on the eighteenth then.”
“Good. Let me know where you want to stay, and I’ll make the arrangements.”
“Thank you, bye.”
Alex hit the end button on his phone and stuffed it back into his coat pocket as he entered the kitchen. Mom still kept Dad’s favorite beer on stock in the refrigerator for the boys. The last time they’d shared one had been right after Dad’s funeral.
He pulled one out and twisted the top off.
“Here’s to you, Dad. I don’t know how you kept your sanity with the three of us.” Alex raised the bottle in a mock toast and downed half of it in several big gulps. The moment it hit his belly, the chocolate milkshake and his double bacon cheeseburger protested. His stomach gave a nasty roll.
The red, vinyl and chrome chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it back from the table and plopped down. Alex leaned back as his belly rumbled. It would be a tossup whether he could make it to the john in time or puke in the kitchen 132
A Perfect Bride for Christmas sink. A knock at the back door made him groan. He shuffled to his feet and opened the door to find Jesse holding an insulated casserole carrier, along with a foil-covered pie pan resting on top.
He felt the world sway at a whiff of fish.
“Hey, I saw the lights and thought I’d run this over and stick this in the fridge. I’ve got to be at work early, and then Ethan has basketball practice tonight. Mom likes my tuna noodle casserole and cherry pie.” Jesse frowned. “Hey, are you all right?”
Alex had just enough time to make it the sink before he let out a Technicolor yawn. The smell brought on another bout of vomiting.
In the kitchen, the carrier clattered as Jesse put it on the table. Moments later, water ran from the half-bath off the kitchen. Spasm after spasm racked his body until all that came up was the bitter taste of bile. A slap of a cold cloth against the back of his neck helped to get the gagging under control.
“Here.” Jesse directed him to a chair after he rinsed his mouth out with cold water. “Keep that back there for a few minutes.”
She pulled the casserole out of the container and put it on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. “There.
The cherry pie has to cool down a bit, and you can put it in the fridge later. I’ll be right back.”
He nodded as she hustled out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Closing his eyes made the nausea worse, even with the compress tight against his neck. A few minutes later, she returned with a bottle of club soda. He let out a groan and closed his eyes again. He hated club soda.
“Mom keeps this here in case I drop by. You know how I love a club soda with a twist of lime.”
The top gave an effervescent fizz as it twisted off the bottle. “Drink this up. You’ll thank me once you’ve had a nice big belch.”
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“No.” Alex pushed the glass away.
“I don’t want to have to beat your sorry ass to get this down you.” She sat in the chair at the end of the table and pushed it back at him.
“Just go away, Jesse.”
“No can do, Cupcake.” She leaned her elbows against the tabletop and rested her chin in her h
ands. “What’s Mom going to do if she comes home and finds her baby boy has a sick stomach? Hmmm?”
“Blackmailer.” He glowered at her and picked up the drink. “You’re a monster, you know that?”
She smiled at him and motioned for him to drink. “Ethan says that at least once a day.”
Alex took a deep swallow of the nasty stuff that hit his stomach with all the finesse of an anvil.
“You’ve been a pain in my ass for as long as I can remember.”
“That’s no way to talk to your elder’s.”
“Three years doesn’t constitute older, just obnoxious. You’re as bad as Clint.”
Her cheeks turned a couple of shades pinker, her blue eyes more intense at the mention of his brother. “I didn’t see much of Clint when he was here for the funeral. He said something about getting back to his stables in Kentucky.” Jesse got out of her chair, and rummaged around in the cabinet underneath the sink. She shook a bit of cleansing powder in the sink and scrubbed. “Heath and I got a chance to catch up. Sounds like he’s doing pretty well at his security business. Hey, drink the rest of that.” Jesse pointed her finger at the half-empty glass.
“Yeah, Heath’s business is booming. Clint’s up to his eyeballs in typical farm issues—you know, wind, rain, hail, sick horses, wrath of God, that sort of stuff.”
“He’s picked a hard road, but I know he can do it.” She rinsed out the sponge she’d used and put it 134
A Perfect Bride for Christmas back on the rack inside the cabinet door. “So are you going to tell me what happened tonight? Did it have to do with Sydney?
Alex pushed the now empty glass away. The bubbles made a home in his stomach and were salsa dancing up a storm. “No, I mixed bacon cheeseburgers and a chocolate shake with a beer chaser.”
“Blar.” Jesse wrinkled her nose. “How did you make that fatal error in judgment?”
He raised his eyebrow and glared at her. “I took my daughter’s to McDonalds.”
“So?” She raised an eyebrow back at him.
“It was a war zone, Jesse.”
She gave him an evil smile. “It only gets better, Cupcake.”
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Chapter Fifteen
The sun came. The morning light dazzled bright against the snow remaining on the ground. Zoe had the small television on the kitchen counter turned to the local weather.
“It’s going to be a beautiful day for the Kansas City area.” The weatherman pointed to the west coast. “But we have a slow-moving storm building in the Pacific. From the looks of things, it won’t hit us for another week, but we’re expecting at least ten inches or more with blowing winds. Some are calling this the storm of the century.”
Cherri wandered into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. “I wonder how many storms of the century we’ve had since two-thousand?”
Zoe chopped a bunch of celery she planned to put into a minestrone for supper tonight. It could be slow cooking while she finished the cooking for a big holiday bash tomorrow night. “It’s going to mean more cancellations, and Amelia King will cancel the reception now that there’s no wedding.”
She chopped faster. Her skin still felt the touch of Alex’s hands. What had it been like for him and Sydney? Did he wring the same emotions, the sensations out of Sydney as his talented hands skated over her long, lean, model-perfect body?
“Whoa,” Cherri shouted and slammed her coffee mug on the kitchen table. The next minute, she grabbed Zoe by the hand and pulled her towards the sink. Blood poured from a nasty cut at the tip of Zoe’s finger.
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“I didn’t feel it.” She felt her knees go weak at the sight of her blood swirling down the drain with the water.
“That’s because you keep your knives so sharp.”
Zoe shook her head. “It’s a clean cut. It would’ve been a lot worse with a dull blade.” The water stung the fresh cut worse than the cut of the knife.
“Dull, sharp,” Cherri growled as she twisted the injured hand under the faucet. “It doesn’t matter.
You still cut your hand.” Blood continued to well from the wound after Cherri turned off the faucet.
“Hopping Hecate’s hatband, what were you doing?”
She grabbed a couple of paper towels off the holder and wrapped them around the injured finger. “Are you sure you don’t need stitches?”
“No.” Zoe shook her head. “It’s not that bad. I’ll put a Band-Aid on it, double glove my hand when I work. I’ll be fine.”
“Right.” Cherri looked skeptical.
“I will be. I let myself get distracted for just a moment and then boom, I cut myself. It’s not the first time. There’s a first aid kit on the top shelf of the pantry.”
Cherri went to the pantry and pulled out the first aid kit. She opened it, rummaging around until she found what she needed. “You were thinking about Alex King. Mooning over him.”
“Mooning?”
“That’s what my Gramma Harriett calls it when you’re pining for a man—not the stick your butt out of the car kind of moon. You’ve had this silly smile on your face from the moment I brought the girls home.” She sat down next to Zoe and peeled away the paper towels. “It’s still bleeding a little.” Cherri replaced the paper towel with a couple of fresh ones and threw the soiled towels in the trash. She went to the sink to wash her hands. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you got lucky, but,” Cherri whirled back 137
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around. “You got laid, didn’t you?”
Zoe felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “I don’t know how it happened. One minute, I’m screaming at him about the letter. The next, I’m dragging him upstairs.”
“Did he kick and scream, put up a fuss, yell, rape?”
“No, but it was wrong. He just got dumped and I didn’t care. What kind of example am I? I’m failing at motherhood.
Zoe peeked under the paper towels again.
Although the bleeding had stopped, the wound throbbed with each heartbeat. It might look bad but luckily, she’d avoided a trip to the emergency room.
She held out her hand to Cherri. “Here, slap a little antibiotic ointment and a bandage on this, and then I’ll be as good as new.”
Cherri dabbed a bit of ointment on the cut. Zoe pulled a sharp breath between her clenched teeth.
“Ow.”
“Liar.” Cherri peeled the bandage out of its wrapper and positioned the pad against the cut.
“You know, I have you in a vulnerable position here.”
She placed one side of the bandage against her finger and smoothed the adhesive down. “I could ask for all the juicy details but that would be wrong.”
Cherri pulled the other end tight and gave the bandage a final look. “So spill.”
“No. I’m afraid you’re going to have to get your thrills another way.” So would she. Zoe held her throbbing hand in the other. It wasn’t as if she were the only person in the world with an ex-husband they still loved, but it didn’t stop the aching need that grew by the minute. ****
“Alex, will you settle down?” his mother snapped. She wriggled in the large floral chair, pulling the lap robe over her legs of her pink sweats 138
A Perfect Bride for Christmas while she tried to get comfortable. Her injured foot rested on an ottoman with her crutches off to the side. “I just got home from the hospital and you’re already driving me crazy.”
He stopped mid pace. “Sorry, Mom, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.” Like how to tell her that Sydney called off the wedding.
She patted the rose-colored lap robe tight around her legs. “You know, for someone so smart, you’ve gotten yourself into quite a mess, haven’t you?”
“You’re right about that.” Alex perched on the huge arm of the chair and took her hand in his. “I just keep making one mistake after another.
Sometimes, I think none of this would’ve happened
if Bianca hadn’t dumped me.”
“Hold up there.” Her fingers tightened over his.
The hairs on the back of Alex’s neck stood up in warning. It was the same sixth sense that had told him to run for the hills as a kid. Luckily, his mother wasn’t up to chasing him around the house. “What?”
“If I remember, and believe me, they did enough brain scans in the hospital that I know all my marbles are intact, Bianca jilted you because she caught you with another woman.”
Old sins came back to bite him on the ass. “I was only flirting, nothing else.”
“Well, even so, your timing was execrable. If I’d been Bianca, I would’ve made sure you couldn’t flirt with anyone for a very long time.”
“Ouch.” He leaned down to plant a kiss on top of her silver hair. “I’m so glad you’re my mother. Would you like a cup of tea? It should be finished steeping by now.”
“I’d love a cup, and don’t change the subject.”
She called out to him as he went into the kitchen for the tea and a piece of Jesse’s cherry pie. He wasn’t ready to tackle the tuna casserole just yet—even the 139
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faint whiff he got when he opened the fridge made his stomach lurch. He retrieved a lap tray from the pantry and brought her the tea and pie.
“There you go.” Alex placed the tray over her legs with care.
“Oh, good, I see Jesse sent over some of her cherry pie.” His mother forked up a bite of the flaky pastry. “That girl might have been a tomboy when she was young, but she knows her way around the kitchen.”
“Yes, and she sent over a large tuna casserole as well.”
“Yummy.”
“I think I’ll just have a bit of chicken noodle soup and call it good. I had a bit of an upset stomach last night, and I don’t want to be a repeat offender.”
His mother stopped in the middle of bringing the fork to her mouth and put it back on the plate.
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