Kiss Me, Chloe

by George, Linda

  KISS ME, CHLOE

  By Linda George

  Book 1 of the Kiss Me Series

  © Linda George/George Enterprises 2013

  Any resemblance between the characters in this book and persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Ouray, Colorado is an actual place. Events described there, including Fourth of July celebration events, are creations of the author. For actual holiday celebrations, contact the Chamber of Commerce of Ouray, Colorado.

  The Byrd’s Nest is a creation of the author.

  Lyrics for “If I Had Something to Love” are by Linda George.

  Dedication

  This book is lovingly dedicated to my honorary sisters, who encouraged me to write fiction again.

  Vicki Martin

  Dorothy Mobilia

  Cathi Tully-Riccie

  Barb Webber

  Sheila Wyborny

  Thanks for being the best sisters an only child ever had!

  Chapter 1

  Houston, Texas

  The telephone rang three times before the answering machine picked up. “I’m sorry, but I can’t take your call. Greg, if that’s you, I can’t have lunch today. Don’t leave a message. I won’t be back to hear it. And my cell phone is turned off. Don’t leave a message there, either.”

  The machine beeped. The caller slammed the receiver.

  Chloe Gale Llewellyn closed the trunk of her blue Honda Civic and headed across the street to her best friend’s house, dreading what she had to tell her. Temperatures already hovered near the mid-90s, even though it was only May, and the humidity made it seem even hotter. The rest of the summer promised to be a scorcher—but not where she intended to spend it.

  Fran Keiser opened the door smiling, but her expression quickly faded to a frown. “Chloe, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m leaving.” Her throat tightened, hearing the words aloud for the first time since she’d made her decision.

  “Whoa. Time out. Let’s go to the kitchen and continue this conversation over something cold. I can tell this is serious. You haven’t worn that gorgeous brunette hair in a ponytail since high school. And your eyes are supposed to be blue, not red.”

  Chloe tried to smile, but the knot in her throat thwarted the gesture.

  They went to the kitchen, sunny and sparkling, decorated in startling shades of emerald green, lemon yellow, and white. Chloe sat down at the table next to the bay window and stared into the backyard, a menagerie of organized chaos. She’d miss this tangle of sunflowers, Wisteria, and pink Dahlias almost as much as she’d miss Fran.

  Grabbing a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator, Fran plunked ice cubes into two green glasses, poured tea to the rims, and carried the glasses to the table.

  “Now, let’s start again. You’re leaving. Is that leaving as in taking a well-deserved vacation or just headed for the mall?” Fran’s red-orange curls fell across her forehead. She swiped at them, but they fell right back where they’d been before.

  “Moving.” She offered a thin smile.

  “What about your job? And what about me? How will I live without you? You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister. You can’t just move away and leave your unemployed sister to fend for herself. We’re going to have to talk about this a lot, over months and months.”

  Chloe had to smile at that. It was true. Fran was like her sister—her older, wiser, more practical sister.

  “My job is going nowhere fast. I’m taking my savings and starting out new. Today.” She ignored Fran’s stricken expression. “And you’ll be just fine, just as you always have been. You’ll have a new job before you know it—maybe even one you’ll like this time. In fact, you can apply for mine. Mr. Wharton’s easy to work for. You’ll be in charge of the office in less than a week.”

  “I can’t believe this. What about—” Understanding dawned. “It’s Greg, isn’t it? What’s the jerk done now?”

  “He’s been transferred to Los Angeles. A big promotion. But it won’t matter one way or another, since I’m not going with him. I’m going … somewhere else.”

  Fran stared at Chloe with her mouth open. “I still can’t believe it. When did you decide to leave Houston?”

  “When he told me about the promotion, two weeks ago. I’ve tried to tell you a dozen times, but I couldn’t find the words. I’ve waited long enough for him to commit to me, to our life together, to marriage and a family. Longer than he deserved.” She closed her eyes, wishing she could erase the turmoil, the hurt, the weakness she’d felt these past two weeks.

  “So, give the bum an ultimatum. If he loves you, he’ll forego the promotion and set the date.”

  Chloe shook her head. “That’s not possible now. It hasn’t been working between us for a long time. And, there’s more.” She grabbed her glass, took a long time to stir sweetener into the tea, then sipped slowly. “He’s found someone else.”

  Fran’s mouth fell open again. “I don’t believe it! Who?”

  “She works for Gulf Coast Seafood. And, she’s also being transferred to L.A. Per his request.”

  Fran shook her head sadly. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Where will you go?”

  “Colorado. Mountains are soothing, and right now soothing is what I need.”

  The phone rang. Fran got up to answer. “Hello, Greg.” She raised one eyebrow to Chloe and held out the receiver.

  Chloe shook her head.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you. And neither do I.” She hung up. “Simple as that.”

  Chloe met her halfway, enjoying the way Fran rubbed her back in little circles, holding her, loving her, with no strings. “I’ll call when I find what I’m looking for.”

  “Forget that. Call every day. And I’ll call twice a day. It may be a while before you find that elusive dream. You’ll have your cell, won’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’m turning it off so Greg won’t call me every ten minutes, and so he can’t use the GPS to find me. I’ll text you along the way so you’ll know where I am.” Chloe blinked away tears. “You still have your key, don’t you? Help yourself to anything in my pantry you can use. And, the fridge for sure. There are milk and eggs and butter and some leftover chicken and dumplings and mashed potatoes.”

  Fran hugged her again, “If there’s anything you need—”

  “I know.”

  Out front, sitting in the car, Chloe took one last look at her house—white brick trimmed in cobalt blue, with a perfectly trimmed privet hedge lining the front walk and the manicured lawn. Greg always mentioned it if the grass got too tall, or if the flower beds needed weeding. With no time to do the work herself, she’d splurged and hired a man to keep everything perfect. He was mowing now, in the back yard. She’d paid him for another month. Soon, someone else would live there, so she’d given him a recommendation for the new owners.

  Greg hadn’t always been such a perfectionist, but for the past two years—since Gulf Coast Seafood entered his life—his picture should have been in the dictionary by that word. She’d tried to be perfect, so he’d keep loving her. Obviously, she’d failed. No surprise there. She could never be as perfect as Greg wanted her to be, and he never failed to let her know when she’d disappointed him and expected her to “do better.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the feel of Fran’s arms around her, those little circles a silent affirmation of love. Greg hadn’t hugged her in months. He’d never approved of public displays of affection, so he’d refused to hold her hand or kiss her in public. Actually, he hadn’t shown her the slightest affection, even when they were alone, for months. He didn’t even mind that she’d refused to move in with him a year ago when they’d talked about marriage the first time. His place was as sterile as he’d become after that las
t promotion.

  She backed out of the driveway. Fran was still standing on her front porch, waiting to wave good-bye. Chloe rolled down the window and called to her.

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to be all right.” She hoped that was true.

  She stopped for gasoline, purchased a map of the southwestern states and studied it carefully.

  “The Rocky Mountains,” she whispered, remembering a family vacation there when she was ten. She toyed with the idea of following the continental divide, all the way to Wyoming. The invisible line meandered through Colorado—the backbone of the continent. What she faced on this journey would take backbone of a different sort.

  Chapter 2

  Kyle Stanton stepped down from his eighteen-wheeler, swiped his card, then inserted the diesel nozzle.

  Stretching his tired back, he groaned. That last six hundred miles, getting to San Diego, had just about crippled him. His lower back burned, echoing the orange and yellow flames on the sides of his black tractor. If he could just get this load delivered, he’d be ready for some R and R.

  After dropping this cargo, he’d head for Phoenix, then Albuquerque. After that, he’d spend the weekend in Ouray, to relax and stuff himself with Byrdie’s cooking. The thought of her fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy made him drool. He wanted to think about something other than covering another five hundred miles.

  Sherry’s face hovered in his memory.

  He had to stop thinking about that woman. Sherry had made her choice every time she’d chosen to work late and cancel a date. Finally, he‘d made his. He couldn’t blame her for wanting a husband as driven as she was to achieve wealth and success. He’d heard through mutual friends that she’d found a lawyer, married him, then had been offered a partnership in a bigger law firm. It had been almost two years since he’d last seen her—more than enough time to quit feeling sorry for himself and find someone new.

  How long had it been since he’d had more than a brief conversation with a woman other than in a truck stop, usually with a waitress who flirted with him in spite of the wedding band on her left hand. No thanks to one-night stands. He was in the market for commitment, not convenience.

  Kyle finished pumping the diesel, waited for the receipt, then got back into the cab.

  Mighty old, that’s what trucking had become. It had served its purpose—to get over the hurt and to put as many miles between the two of them as he could. The past few months, though, it had become a drudge. Maybe Aunt Byrdie could put him up for a couple of weeks, if she hadn’t already booked every room at the Byrd’s Nest. He’d soak up some cool mountain air—and gain ten pounds—before heading out again. And, if someone came along with the cash, he’d sell this rig in a heartbeat and try living in one place again. Byrdie was getting close to seventy. She’d need more help in the years to come. Sweet Aunt Byrdie. Always there when he needed someone to hug. He pulled out onto the highway.

  <><><>

  Chloe stopped for the night in Lubbock, weary from being on the road all day, ready to soak in a tub of steaming water. She hoped to be able to wash away some of the anguish still gripping her, stubbornly refusing to let go. She checked into the Embassy Suites, not that far from Texas Tech University, where her younger brother, Kenny, had gotten his degree two years ago before moving halfway across the country. She’d have to call him, once she got settled, and give him a new address. She wouldn’t bother him until she knew more about what she was going to do. He’d told her, the last time they’d talked, that he and his girlfriend would be engaged soon.

  Leaving her suitcase on the bed, she went straight to fill the tub. A complimentary bottle of bubble bath foamed into mounds of pink bubbles. Chloe tied her hair back, then applied cleansing cream to her face. She felt bare inside. It seemed only fitting to look as bare as she felt.

  Easing through the bubbles into the hot water, her muscles responded and slowly relaxed, releasing tension and stress. She reached for a towel, rolled and placed it behind her neck, and stretched out as much as the tub would allow. Stiff from driving so long, she didn’t relish the idea of driving all day again tomorrow, but she had to get out of Texas, away from Greg, away from the hurt of betrayal, and find the life she deserved—a life without the pressure to be perfect. Just once, she’d like to skip applying make-up, skip the hose and heels and jewelry, skip the cocktail parties and the back-biting that went on among the executives’ wives and girlfriends. She’d like to be herself for a change, and not have to worry about how she looked all the time, and whether her appearance was acceptable to Greg.

  Why did it have to turn out this way? She let her mind wander back to when they’d met—their sophomore year in high school. They’d gone steady after their first date, the Sports Banquet. Greg had been called to the podium to accept several certificates and two plaques, having excelled in football, basketball, baseball and track. Most athletes chose one sport. Greg played all of them. It meant long hours after school every day for the whole year, but Chloe didn’t mind too much. Being Greg Reynolds’ girlfriend made up for a lot of nights spent at home with her parents, watching rented movies, while other girls were out with their boyfriends.

  For years, Greg tried to convince Chloe it was all right for them to make love, since they were going to be married someday, but she was terrified her parents would find out and forbid her to ever see Greg again. Her feelings were old-fashioned, she knew, but the way the other girls considered sex just another part of a casual date made her sick. Greg said he understood, but she could tell he didn’t like it, and she could tell by the way his friends looked at her that he was filling them in on plenty of lies since he didn’t have actual conquests to brag about.

  She thought they’d get married when they went to college, but Greg didn’t want to be saddled with the responsibilities of marriage until he’d gotten his masters’ degree and had a job with a big company with plenty of opportunities for advancement, so they could start their married life “in style.” He suggested living together, but she didn’t want that. She kept her apartment, and at least a small piece of her independence.

  Greg spent more and more time studying during those years at the University of Houston, then, as a junior executive for Gulf Coast Seafood, working even longer hours, spending less time with her with every month that passed. For the last two years, she’d longed to hear him say he was ready, at last, to set the date for their wedding. More than once, he’d told her he wouldn’t wait forever for her to give in and “complete their relationship.” She’d heard rumors from her girlfriends that Greg was “getting plenty” on the side, but she’d ignored them, knowing deep in her heart they had to be true.

  When he’d taken her to The Outback two weeks ago, ordered an expensive bottle of wine and sirloin for two with “a fair dinkum side of ‘shrooms,” she let herself think he might be leading up to a proposal… .

  “This job is more than I could’ve hoped for, Chloe. I wanted you to be among the first to know. I’m being promoted again, to Department Manager.”

  Another promotion. Maybe—

  “And, there’s more. GCS is opening a new branch in L.A.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad for you.” Weary to the bone after an especially hectic day at the law office where she worked as a paralegal, she found it difficult to listen, aching for a hot bath and a warm bed to relax her tense muscles.

  “Don’t you realize what this will mean for us?”

  A glimmer of hope crowded past the exhaustion. She waited with an expectant smile, so weary she wished she could kick off her heels and shimmy out of her panty hose right there in the restaurant. Her body screamed for rest.

  “The possibilities for rapid advancement are excellent.” He stuffed a bite of medium-rare sirloin into his mouth and reached for his glass of Opus. He must have an important decision to share, to spend a hundred dollars on a bottle of wine for the occasion.

  “You’ve reached all your goals,” she offered, hoping to nudge hi
m into making a long story shorter. “You should be proud.” Her toes were cramping. She slipped one shoe off and massaged her foot.

  “In six months, I’ll be eligible for another raise and another promotion—the big one. Vice President.”

  “So soon?” She shifted in the chair, trying to take some pressure off her legs. They’d hurt more lately than ever before.

  “We’ll be able to buy the house of our dreams. It won’t be long now, babe.”

  “How long?”

  “Just as soon as I add Vice President to my title.”

  Chloe pushed the disappointment down and tried to smile convincingly, but it was too much to ask after typing two hundred pages today.

  “Aren’t you happy for me? It means we can start our marriage right, with no shortcuts.”

  “Of course I’m happy for you. I’m just tired, that’s all. Are you ready to go? I’m really bushed.”

  “Too bushed for a celebration? You know how hard I’ve worked for this.” He stared at her for a moment. “I thought you’d be as happy as I am. Your lack of enthusiasm is disappointing, to say the least.” He finished his wine and poured the glass full again.

  She closed her eyes. Why couldn’t she be happier? He worked long hours, seven days a week, so they could have everything marriage could offer. If only he’d touch her, hold her, kiss her the way he had in high school, when they loved spending time together.

  But GCS had dangled a Vice Presidency in front of him like a carrot in front of a donkey, and his eyes had become fixed on that prize, to the exclusion of everything else—including her.

  “Just as soon as I’m the VP in charge of that new branch, we can get married. Only six more months.”

  Something snapped inside her. Just came apart. She’d never questioned Greg before, but the words were out before she could call them back.

  “What if I’m not willing to wait another six months?”

  Greg set his glass on the table and frowned. “You can’t be serious. Surely you see what this will mean for us. We won’t have to settle for a house that would be too small within five years. We can choose the neighborhood we want instead of one we can afford. We’ll have it all.”