Mine

by Georgia Beers

  Courtney punched the rewind button and listened to the message again.

  And again.

  And again.

  What was it about Rachel’s husky voice that made Courtney feel it in various parts of her body—in a good way? And why did she feel downright giggly that the woman had called at all? Despite Courtney’s determination to classify Wednesday night’s dinner as a success, the fact remained that during part of it, Rachel had been somewhat rude and very judgmental, almost confrontational. Why wasn’t Courtney more annoyed about that? More wary? She wasn’t as tough and self-confident as Theresa had been, but she was no Milquetoast either; she wasn’t the kind of person to let others run her over with their opinions. And, frankly, the last thing in the world she needed right now—or ever—was to be dating some kind of bipolar psycho. So why did she want nothing more than to see Rachel again? To call her right this very second and take her up on her offer? Rachel had said nothing about the flowers, but it was possible she wasn’t sure if they’d been delivered yet and didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Courtney should call her to thank her for those, if nothing else. Right? It was the polite thing to do, after all.

  After listening to Rachel’s message one more time, Courtney leaned back against the counter and sighed, feeling suddenly confused and tired because she had way more questions than answers and no idea what to do about any of them.

  Chapter Twelve

  It never failed to send a happy shiver through Rachel’s body when she showed up at Happy Acres to find that one of her charges had been adopted. Rex, the giant shepherd/Lab mix, had been adopted by a family with two kids and a lot of land. She breathed an involuntary sigh of relief. Dogs that big were hard to place. She was happy for him. And she was thankful.

  Small dogs, however, were always the first to go. She clipped a leash onto a small, hyper mix of at least three breeds she could pick out by eye: cocker spaniel, Jack Russell, and poodle. He had been picked up as a stray and the Happy Acres staff had named him Charlie.

  “Hi, Charlie. Want to go for a walk this morning?” The dog jumped at her thigh like he was on a pogo stick, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics.

  “Off,” she said sternly and tugged the leash downward until he was in a sit. As soon as she stood back up, Charlie jumped again and Rachel repeated the command and tug. When he sat, she gave him a little piece of a liver treat from her pocket. After five or six times, Charlie was watching her expectantly from his sit, his big brown eyes soft and friendly, a dribble of drool on the side of his mouth as he anticipated the liver. “Good boy,” she said, pleased at his quickness and smarts, and rewarded him. “You’re not going to last long here, buddy, don’t you worry. Some lucky person is going to snap you right up. Come on. Let’s get some air.”

  They strolled the grounds, Charlie stopping every couple of feet to either sniff something, pee on something, or both. Rachel grinned, knowing that was the terrier in him. They continued on their sporadic walk and Rachel let her mind wander to the subjects that were taking up most of her time.

  First, Emily had called the previous week, finally. The doctors had given her an exact date for her C-section. November 2, the following Saturday. It was official. Rachel had found it a bit odd that it was on a Saturday, but apparently, there were doctors that actually had weekend hours. Who knew? She’d be in the delivery room watching surgeons cut open her sister and pull her niece or nephew into the cold, cruel world. She was simultaneously joyous and terrified.

  God, what if I puke?

  Not horrendously squeamish by nature, she still found the idea of seeing an actual medical procedure performed before her eyes a bit…unnerving. But she knew Emily had gone through a lot to make sure Rachel could participate, and she didn’t want to let her baby sister down. She was deeply touched and prayed to the stars above that she didn’t embarrass herself or Emily during the birth by doing something stupid. Like throwing up.

  Shaking those thoughts of nervousness out of her head did nothing to make her feel more relaxed as she and Charlie wandered around the Happy Acres property in the chilly autumn air. Once she was no longer dwelling on the possibilities of hospital vomiting, her brain shifted to the other big thing on her mind: Courtney.

  The minute she’d hung up from ordering the flowers, Rachel had suffered a mini panic attack. What was she thinking, sending flowers? What kind of message were they giving off? You don’t send a woman flowers unless they mean something. Of course, the other voice in her head, the quieter, less heard one, replied that they did mean something and if Rachel would relax and let herself go just a little bit, she might get a whiff of exactly what that something felt like.

  She hated feeling this way. Worried. Uncertain. A little confused. They were emotions she was unfamiliar with, didn’t know how exactly to handle, and Rachel Hart was nothing if not sure of herself. Somehow, Courtney McAllister left her feeling…dizzy and off balance. At the same time, all she could think about was the next time they would see each other. Unfortunately, given their ridiculous schedules, it had been a couple of weeks. Rachel had wall-to-wall showings, Courtney had a week and a half of parent-teacher conferences, and they’d laughed about how stupidly hard it was to find a time they both had open. Rachel, though, refused to throw in the towel, and she got the distinct impression that Courtney wanted to see her just as badly.

  Charlie tugged at his leash, trying to smell something just out of reach, and Rachel adjusted her hold as they walked. The last time she recalled being this out of sorts was ages ago. Could it have been as far back as the week after her father left? The day she realized that her mother was in trouble and if she didn’t pick up the slack left by her parents and do her best to keep things in order, she and Emily might just fade away? Of course, she understood now, as an adult, that children don’t just fade away. At the time, though, she was terrified. She’d spent an entire night wide-awake and staring at her bedroom ceiling, wondering what on earth she should do. Scared, confused, and uncertain, she’d cried silently for hours, worrying about her future, about Emily’s future, about her mother’s inability to get out of bed. By the next morning, tired of endless weeping and realizing nobody was going to come to her rescue, she’d made a pact with herself. She’d take care of anything she possibly could, and eventually, she was sure her mother would pull herself together.

  That’s when little Rachel Hart took control of her life; it was her defining moment. She cleaned, she did laundry, and she bathed her baby sister. She cooked dinner. She made sure her mother was breathing. She did her homework and then helped Emily with hers. At thirteen years old, she ran the household for weeks. It might even have been months before Alice emerged from her bedroom showered and fully dressed, and their new life without Rachel’s father began. Somehow, Rachel had never been able to let go of that need for control. She had it to this day. She was rigid, contained, and predictable.

  Sending Courtney flowers fell into none of those categories. Neither did counting the days until they’d see each other again.

  Blowing out a frustrated breath, she said aloud, “I may be in trouble here, Charlie. I may be in big trouble.”

  *

  “Hello?” Courtney snatched up the phone on the first ring, making a face at herself for looking so pathetically eager.

  “Hi there. It’s Rachel.”

  Like Courtney wouldn’t recognize those husky tones anywhere. “All done?”

  “Yep. I just want to change out of this monkey suit and I’ll be good to go.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Great. You remember my address?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Top floor.”

  “Got it.”

  “See you soon.”

  Exactly twelve minutes later, Courtney slipped her VW into park and hopped out. The building across the street was huge, solid and beautiful, made of red brick and quite a bit bigger than Courtney had expected. She whistled softly. “Nice piece of re
al estate.”

  An ornate set of wood-and-glass double doors opened onto a small vestibule, which led to a matching set that were locked. Courtney peeked through the leaded glass at the marble floors in the foyer and whistled again. Rachel owned this building and the fact was impressive. On the right was an intercom system with seven buttons, a name printed next to each. She pushed number seven, which was labeled “Hart.” Rachel answered just as the front doors opened and a rugged-looking man entered the vestibule, a set of keys jingling in his hand.

  “Courtney?” Rachel’s disembodied voice said.

  “Your chariot awaits,” Courtney answered, then smiled at the man when she noticed he was smiling at her.

  “I’ll let her in, Raich,” he said to the intercom. “And I’ll tell her all your secrets before I send her up.”

  “Thanks, Jeff,” Rachel replied. “Don’t listen to a word he says, Courtney. He’s a big, fat liar.”

  They both laughed and Jeff turned his key in the lock, holding the door open for Courtney. Once they were inside the foyer, he held out his hand.

  “Jeff Porter.”

  “Courtney McAllister.” His hand was warm, his handshake firm but gentle. The softness of his expression surprised her and she liked him immediately.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Courtney,” he said as he motioned for her to follow him down the hall. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “You have?” Courtney didn’t hide her surprise and it made him chuckle.

  “Yep.” He punched the call button for the elevator. “Rachel’s been a good friend of mine for a few years now and we get together every so often to shoot the shit.”

  Courtney nodded, not sure what to say, not sure if knowing Rachel talked about her made her feel flattered or uneasy or both. “That’s great. Rachel’s…she’s terrific.”

  “She is. You two going out today?”

  “We’re going to my friend’s place to watch the Bills game.”

  “Sounds like fun.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “She’s on four,” he said helpfully. “I live on this floor, so I’ll see you around.”

  “Thanks, Jeff,” she said as she stepped onto the elevator. “It was nice meeting you,” she added quickly as the doors shut. Inside, she let out a big breath, feeling inexplicable relief. So…Rachel mentioned me, huh? Interesting. She let a smile creep onto her face, then bit her lip so she wouldn’t look like a silly, grinning schoolgirl.

  When the elevator stopped and its doors opened, there was only one other door to head to and it stood ajar. The hallway area itself was gorgeous and sparkling and it took Courtney’s breath away. It looked old and new at the same time, with gleaming hardwood and fancy crown molding alongside an obviously new double-hung window that spilled daylight onto the hallway and a small crystal chandelier that was suspended from the ceiling. Courtney turned slowly in a full circle, taking everything in, before approaching the semiopened door. She tapped on it gently.

  “Rachel?”

  “Come on in, Courtney,” Rachel called from deep inside the apartment. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  Rachel’s apartment gave off much the same feel as the hallway and foyer did. Old and new blended seamlessly together for a unique, classy and elegant, yet warm and cozy atmosphere that you felt instantly. Walking into the living room, Courtney made a game of picking out as much old versus new that she could find in the first few minutes of looking. The hardwood floor was shiny and well tended, but the thin planks that made it up told Courtney they were probably original to the building. Rachel had throw rugs in burgundies and browns tossed in a seemingly casual manner to protect them. An alarmingly large, flat-screen television was mounted on the far wall and Courtney smiled as she remembered Rachel telling her it was her favorite recent splurge. Small surround-sound speakers were placed surreptitiously around the room and Courtney had to fight the urge to turn everything on, just to hear what she knew would be incredible, movie-theater-quality sound that would probably make her drool with pleasure.

  “Help yourself to a drink or whatever you want,” Rachel called from down a hallway. “There’s stuff in the fridge. Or open a bottle of wine. Whatever you want.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  The apartment was deceptively huge. Each time Courtney craned her neck, she saw an entry to another room. There was a dining room off the back corner of the living room and she wandered casually toward it, drawn by the large windows along one side of the living room. The view looked out the front of the building and there was a small balcony. Courtney had no trouble picturing Rachel relaxing easily in the summer, on a lounge chair with a glass of wine and a book. She followed the throw rugs into the dining room where a midsized wine rack instantly caught her eye and drew her like it had some sort of gravitational pull.

  It was almost full, only three of the twenty-five bottle spaces left open. She slid a bottle out enough to read the label. Then another. Then another. She still wasn’t terribly well versed in wine, but she was learning, finding it was something that interested her a great deal. The most common conclusion she could draw about Rachel’s wine collection was that it was pricey. Most of the wines on her rack were brands and varietals that Courtney hadn’t tried yet, simply because she couldn’t bring herself to spend that much on one bottle.

  “Wow,” she mumbled as she looked at another bottle of a merlot from the Napa Valley. “Nice.”

  “Shall we open one?”

  Rachel startled Courtney, making her jump. Shooting a sheepish grin Rachel’s way, she took a moment to admire the well-worn, low-slung jeans and long-sleeve black T-shirt that seemed to hug every single, desirable curve of Rachel’s body. God, the woman could wear rags and still be sexy. Courtney tried in vain to clear her throat. And her head.

  “Sorry about that,” Rachel said with a smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t be snooping.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” Rachel cocked an eyebrow, the twinkle in her eyes taking any sting out of her voice so Courtney knew she was teasing her.

  “You have quite an impressive selection here.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes.” Courtney furrowed her brows at the question. “You don’t know that?”

  “To be honest, probably nine out of ten of these bottles came from clients as thank-yous. I don’t really know much about wine at all.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Rachel, you’ve got some very expensive wine here.”

  Rachel lifted one shoulder and grinned. “I sell some very expensive houses.”

  Courtney squinted at her, remembering she’d used that line once before. She found herself wondering how it was possible for one person to present such an overall puzzle and why it was that she wanted to spend as much time as she could trying to figure her out. “Really? What were you doing selling my modest abode, then?”

  Rachel blushed adorably and studied her feet. “I sell some more reasonably priced houses, too.”

  “I see. But you brought me wine.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Rachel looked up and their gazes held. “It’s good to see you,” Courtney said softly, feeling like it had been months rather than a couple of weeks.

  “You, too.” Rachel gestured to the wine rack with her chin. “Pick one for us to take to Mark’s.”

  “What?” Courtney was hesitant. “Oh, no. This is not football wine. This is fancy dinner wine. We should just drink beer or something. Mark doesn’t know a thing about wine. This stuff’s too good…”

  “Courtney.” Rachel placed a warm hand on Courtney’s upper arm. Courtney could feel the heat through the sleeve of her jacket and fought to ignore it.

  “Hmm?”

  “I think it’s silly to save good wine for a fancy dinner. Don’t you? Wouldn’t you rather taste it now?”

  Courtney swallowed as she listened to the hypnotic quality
of Rachel’s low voice as she spoke about tasting. God, the woman was sexy, whether or not she intended to be. She just was. “Okay,” Courtney managed to croak.

  Shifting her gaze to the bottles, Rachel ordered again, “You pick.”

  Courtney, too, studied the wine. “Um, okay. Let me see.” She pulled each bottle out again, studying its label, its original location, its varietal. “Okay, this one?” It was a California cabernet sauvignon from a Napa Valley winery called Groth. Despite its simple black-and-ivory label, Courtney knew from her explorations at local liquor stores that it was a $50–$60 bottle of wine, easily. She also remembered all the rave reviews she’d read about it. “This is a really, really nice wine and you have to save it for a special occasion.”

  “I think I have two bottles of that.”

  Courtney did a double take and then checked the other bottles again. Rachel was right. There were two. “Still. It’s absolutely Special Occasion Wine. Save it. I insist. All right? Promise me?” She waited expectantly for an answer.

  Rachel nodded. “Only because you insisted,” she said with a wink that made Courtney feel a sudden and inexplicable anticipation racing through her system.

  Jesus, how the hell am I supposed to survive this woman? A mixture of excitement and anxiety churned in her gut as she turned back to the rack and pulled a bottle out with barely a glance. “Okay. This one.”

  “Perfect. Are you ready?”