“You know how I like yard sales?”
“No-oo-o,” she said with an exaggerated sigh and grin. “I never would’ve guessed that about you.”
“Anyway…” He shot her a look. “On the way to the courthouse this afternoon, I stopped off at a yard sale. The guy was a weekend artist. Makes these things to sell at craft fairs. I thought it might be pretty in your bedroom. It’s still a little plain in there. Plus—” he looked away and grinned “—guess you could use something to store all the stuff I’ve dragged in.”
“Okay, but wait,” she said. “You think my gorgeous, minimalist bedroom is plain?”
“Yeah. It is.”
“And so you’ve appointed yourself my official redecorator?”
“Um-hmm.” With his sleeve, he dusted the flower’s upper shelf.
Crossing her arms, she couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if the rest of your work is as great as this, I just might keep you on for a good long while.”
She’d meant the statement as a joke, but just as she’d caught the unintentional double entendre, the slight catch in Caleb’s breath said he hadn’t missed it, either.
A good long while, as in marriage.
They’d had so much fun the past few days. Would a whole life together be just as great?
“Guess I, ah, better get this upstairs,” he said. “I was thinking it’d look good on that empty wall by the big picture window. That sound okay to you?”
“Perfect,” she said. “Just perfect.”
“Cal, hon,” Allie added socks and SpongeBob boxers to his suitcase crammed with Legos and Lincoln Logs and Matchbox cars. “Do you think you might need a few more clothes?”
“What for?” he asked, tossing in two airplanes that’d been recent gifts from his father. “I’ve already got some on.”
Milo was distracted with his new chew toy slice of pizza. Squeak, squeak, squeak…
“Yes, but…” She took a deep breath. Counted to five—who had time for counting all the way to ten? “We’re going to be at your Aunt Gillian and Uncle Joe’s for a long time. Four and a half days. Plus, you’ll need pajamas.”
“I’ll just sleep commando. That’s what Dad does.”
Keeping a straight face suddenly became a monumental task. “Excuse me?”
“Billy says all marshals sleep nekked ’cause that’s what real men do. Pajamas are for wusses.”
“First off…” Allie took Cal’s red flannel airplane pj’s from his top dresser drawer, “just because you wear pajamas, does not mean you’re a wuss. Second, it’s none of your or Billy’s business what your father sleeps in. Third, I don’t think I want you associating with Billy.”
“What’s ass-so-ciating?”
“A fancy word for playing with,” she said, tweaking his nose.
“Ouch,” he said. “Don’t do that. I’m too old.”
“Ex-cuu-u-use me,” she said. “From now on, I’ll only touch you by invitation.”
“What’s that mean?”
“That you have to ask me to hug you.”
“Oh. Yeah,” he said. “That’d be good. ’Cept for nighttime hugs and kisses. You can just do that—as long as no one’s watching.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I feel honored. Want these?” She held up his art set.
He shrugged.
“What?” she asked. “You don’t like to draw anymore, either?”
“Billy says it’s not very manly.”
Allie growled. “I’ve about had it with that kid.”
“Which kid?” Caleb strolled into the room.
“Dad!” Cal bounced up and slung his arms around his father. “Do you know where we’re going for Thanksgiving?”
Milo was also on his feet, tail wagging.
“I sure do. You packed?”
“Yeah,” Cal said. “But Mom’s being mean and making me take dumb stuff like underwear and clothes.”
“Since when are clothes dumb?” Caleb grinned in Allie’s direction. “I love seeing what kinds of stuff your mom’s wearing.”
“Eeuuw,” Cal said. “That’s gross.”
Caleb shrugged. “Maybe so, but if your mom says you need to pack clothes, then you’d better get with it. Come on,” he approached the bed holding the loaded case. “How about taking half of these toys out, then you’ll have more room.”
“Okay.”
Allie crossed her arms before heading out into the hall.
“What?” Caleb trailed after her. “Don’t be mad at me. I packed all my undies and pj’s.”
She rolled her eyes. “You sleep in boxers.” Just boxers. And miles of bare chest. She gulped. “For the record, this isn’t about what anyone sleeps in,” she said. “But the way ever since you showed up, Cal’s changing. He never used to second-guess me. And he sure never hung out with kids like Billy.”
“You ever stop to think that now that he has a dad, he also has the self-confidence to try new things? Meet new kids?”
Allie didn’t have anything to say in response. In fact, to be fair to Caleb, she hadn’t even considered the fact that what she saw as sass and a general lack of cooperation was really more a case of Cal flexing his wings. Probably a good thing. But was now the best time for him to learn to fly?
Caleb pulled her into a hug. “He’s a great kid. He’s going to grow up to be some biogenetic-something, make a million trillion bucks and buy us both early retirements. From where I’m standing, we’ve got no troubles.”
“Ha,” Allie said against Caleb’s wonderful smelling, even better feeling, chest. “Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one who was just forbidden from touching him—especially his nose.”
“You mean that tweaking thing you do?”
“What’s wrong with it? He’s cute. And so is his tweaked nose.”
“Babe…” Caleb kissed the crown of her head before groaning. “Us manly men genuinely don’t like having our noses messed with. Nothing personal against you messing with it—just one of those things.”
“Oh.”
“You’re not getting all sad on me, are you?” He nudged her back to take a look at her face. “Seriously, Cal hates it when you do that to him. It embarrasses him. Especially when you do it in front of Max. A few weeks back, he asked me to talk to you about it, but I said the truly manly thing to do would be talk to you himself. Explain how he feels. Sounds like he wasn’t real eloquent about it, but at least it’s a start toward independence and free thinking, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Allie said, “But I’m not going to admit it.”
“Okay, then, how about I admit something to you.”
“What?”
“You know how much you hate my job?”
Her heart thundered with hope. “You quit?”
Caleb rode out the wall of tension standing between them. “No.”
“I’m sorry,” Allie said. “Reflexive action. I’ve prayed for so long that—”
“It’s okay,” he said.
“No, it’s not. I am sorry, Caleb. I’m trying to be at peace with what you do.”
He shook his head. “I’m so sick of that. You trying, Al. How long is my job going to be an issue between us? And a pretty lame one at that, considering how little action I actually see.”
“How can you say that?” she hissed. “Have you conveniently forgotten how much danger you were recently in? Just standing around watching me?”
“Standing around watching you…” He laughed. “And who has the dangerous job?”
“You’re just twisting my words. Trying to be obtuse.”
“No, Allie, when I arranged to have the long weekend off, meaning someone else is in charge of watching over you and Cal, I thought I was being considerate. Thanks for letting me know that wasn’t the case.”
“Man! This is awesome!” Cal skipped from seat to seat in back of the endless limo Gillian and Joe rented for the occasion. They’d also been kind enough to send one for Allie’s mom.
Milo even had his ow
n endless bench seat, and snored alongside his squeaky pizza and one of Cal’s stuffed dinosaurs he’d deemed himself too grown-up to play with.
In front, a marshal drove. The black stretch model was flanked both front and back by still more marshals.
Fortunately for Allie, she only had one marshal to contend with. Although getting Caleb out of his funk and into holiday cheer was going to take some doing.
“Bud,” Caleb said to their son, “how about picking one seat and putting on a safety belt?”
“Aw, man,” Cal complained. “Why do I hafta wear a seat belt? Limos can’t crash.”
“I assure you, they can,” Allie said, reaching over to buckle in Caleb as well, noting his dour look when her loose long hair brushed his cheek. She sort of accidentally brushed other parts of him with other parts of herself as well, then flashed him her brightest smile. “Buckle up for safety.”
“That’s not going to work,” he ground under his breath while Cal fiddled with the limo’s four flat-screen TVs.
“Geez! I can watch SpongeBob and Rick and Morty and PAW Patrol and Dragon Ball Z all at the same time! Aunt Gillian and Uncle Joe rock!”
“All I did was help fasten your seat belt,” Allie said to Caleb.
He stared straight ahead.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in his ear. “Yes, I’d like nothing better than for you to quit your job and settle into a nice, dull—safe—private practice. We could do lunch. But since I know that’s not going to happen, I’d like to at least thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking off Thanksgiving, and ask your forgiveness for my stupid, insensitive outburst back at the house. Okay?”
His only answer was a grunt.
“Look, Dad! We can watch wrestling and football and basketball and fishing! And there’s big headphones for each TV!”
“Cool,” Caleb said.
“And Mom, they’ve even got all your cooking shows! And look at all the fancy bottles they’ve got down here.” With his sneaker toe, Cal could just reach the liquor cabinet door. “Can I have some of that?” he said, pointing to an amber liquid.
“No,” Allie and Caleb said at the same time.
“Check the fridge,” Allie suggested. “There’s probably pop.”
“Wow!” Cal said as if hitting the mother lode in the tiny square refrigerator just within his reach. “There’s not just pop, but candy bars and peanuts and stuff! And I can eat all of this I want?”
“No,” Allie said.
“Yep,” Caleb said.
Cal just sat staring at them both. “Well?” he asked, looking hopefully toward his mom. “Can I?”
Allie took a deep breath, rested her head against Caleb’s all-too-capable shoulder, then said, “That depends.”
“On what?” Cal asked.
Allie said, “I get to watch one of my cooking shows on one of the TVs—and a decorating show on another.”
“Yeah,” Cal’s father said, wrapping his arm around her, fitting her more snuggly against him. “And I get to watch a western.”
“Then that only leaves me one show,” Cal said, his pouty lower lip practically on the limo’s psychedelic-disco carpeted floor.
“Just think,” Allie said with a grin. “You’ll have that much more time to eat. Which reminds me, please pass me a Snickers and a Coke. Caleb? Want anything?”
He ducked down to steal a kiss. “I’ll just have some of what you’re having.”
Cal shot them both a look of pure seven-year-old disgust. “Eeeeeuuuuuw!”
“How was the trip?” Gillian asked, taking Allie’s coat, then moving on to the rest of the Logue men—including a big, lovable golden-haired dog named Barney. He and Milo greeted each other with barks and tail wagging. Old friends? The marshals on duty had surrounded the exterior of the house—located in a ritzy Portland suburb—but Adam had come in, along with Caleb and Cal. After a round of hugs, Joe held the baby and Meghan cabbaged on to Cal, yanking him and both dogs in the direction of her playroom. Vince and Beau were also in the elaborate marble-floored entry, making Allie and Cal’s welcome more like a parade.
“Heaven,” Allie said about their ride. “There were a couple times I think I was too comfortable.”
“No such thing,” Gillian said, taking her hand. “Come on. Let’s leave all these guys to talk shop. You’re coming with me to our spa day. There’s someone in the midst of a pedicure who I think you’ll want to see.”
“Mom?” Allie raised her eyebrows. “Getting a pedicure?”
“I thought all of us girls could use a little pampering so I hired experts. Masseuses, manicurists, hairstylists. I’ve got a friend who works at Saks coming over later to outfit us for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Gillian laughed. “I told you, Joe’s company is really taking off. He’s already given over ten million to charity this year. He says me and the girls are his other favorite charity.”
“Sounds like you hit the groom jackpot,” Allie said while they headed down a long, sun-flooded hall floored with intricately patterned mosaics. Tropical plants lined the walls along with carved wooden benches.
Caw! Caw!
Something big and reddish swooped past, narrowly missing Allie’s left ear.
“What was that?” she asked after her initial shriek.
“Joe’s new passion. He loves birds. That one’s Bongo. In the solarium, where we’re headed, are a half-dozen more. The nice thing is that all of these floorings and furnishings can be hosed down, so the birds don’t need to be caged. They’re not as tame as they otherwise might be, but they seem fairly happy.”
Gillian stepped into a massive, glass-domed room that literally took Allie’s breath away. “This is…I’m speechless.” The ceiling had to be at least twenty feet high. The room was like stepping into a private island paradise complete with towering palms, a waterfall, exotic, heavenly smelling flowers in a rainbow of hues and a meandering stream culminating in a tranquil pool. Ethereal classical strings played from hidden speakers and seated alongside the pool swathed in a sumptuous pink towel and robe was Victoria Hayworth, Allie’s mom. Sliced cucumbers covered her eyes while a model-handsome guy massaged her feet.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” Allie called out, almost afraid to speak again for fear of shattering the dream.
“Allie, hon! You’re here.” Victoria whipped the veggies off her eyes. “How was your trip?”
“Nothing special.” Grinning, Allie shrugged. “You know, just my usual boring old limo ride.”
“Here,” Gillian said to Allie, holding out a tall, red drink complete with a hibiscus and orange garnish. “Drink up, then strip. There’s a robe for you in the changing cabana. It’s high time we get you good and relaxed.”
“Believe me,” Allie said, sipping the sweet, fruity drink, “I’m already there.”
Ten minutes later, Allie had traded her usual stodgy suit for a fluffy pink robe, and while her and her mother’s fingernails were being painted by two drop-dead gorgeous guys, their feet were being alternately soaked in warm scented water and massaged with warm oil by another hunk.
“Relax,” Allie’s mom said, reaching out to pat her daughter’s forearm. “You look tense.”
From her hairstyling station, where yet another hunk snipped here and there on Gillian’s honey-gold curls, she said, “I have to agree, Allie. Time for you to start guzzling that drink as it looks like rum is the only thing that’ll get you out of court mode and into the mood for fun.”
Relief shimmered through Allie. After all her worrying about things her mother might say, that was it? Relax? She glanced her mom’s way.
I love you, she mouthed.
Love you, too, Allie mouthed back.
“Wish your father could see all of this,” her mom said in a wistful voice, gazing up at an orange and red bird high up in the trees.
“Me, too,” said Allie.
“I’m proud of you, you know.”
“For what?�
� Allie asked, sipping her drink.
“Letting go of your fear, for at least trying. What happened to your father was a horrible accident. But if you continue to lock yourself behind a wall of doubts, you may never see the beauty around you.”
Allie reddened. What her mom said was true. But did she have to say it in front of Gillian?
Caleb’s sister cleared her throat. “Not that it’s any of my business, but sounds like sage advice we should toast.” Gillian raised her glass. “To beauty.”
“To beauty,” Allie said, thinking the woman who could quite possibly soon be her sister-in-law was beautiful, both inside and out.
After all three women had toasted with two more of the drinks that went down more like Kool-Aid than liquor, Victoria wandered off for a nap. As soon as she’d left the room, Gillian asked Allie, “So are you and my brother planning a Christmas wedding?”
Mellowed by rum and the waterfall’s gentle shush, Allie said, “I wish. Guess we still have a few kinks to work out.”
“Like what?” Gillian asked. “Maybe I can help?”
Allie shook her big, towel-wrapped head. “Thanks, but in our case, time is pretty much the only thing that’ll make a difference.” She gazed off across the room at a huge blue bird perched at the top of a red-blossomed tree more suited to the Amazon than Oregon. “I’m assuming your brother thinks I’m going to just up and disappear again—which is ridiculous. I’ve apologized repeatedly. Assured him leaving is the furthest thing from my mind. But no matter what I say, I keep getting the feeling that he doesn’t quite trust me not to break his heart.”
“Well, you did do that,” Gillian said. “Oh, not that, being a manly man and all, he’s ever come right out and said it, but after you left, he was never the same. Now, though, I see part of that old Caleb returning.”
Allie hung her head in shame. Would the pain of one bad decision ever stop hurting?
“Oh, sweetie…” Gillian hopped up from her chair to enfold Allie in a hug. “The last thing I wanted to do was bring you down. What I meant to say was that thanks to you, I not only have an awesome nephew, but my brother back. And for that I’m grateful.”
U.S. Marshals: Chased (U.S. Marshals Book 2) Page 15