by LuAnn McLane
“Of course, Mom. I used the old family recipe from Sicily that Uncle Tony found.”
“Excellent. By the way, have you seen Gabby yet?”
“Why does everybody care about me seeing Gabby Goodwin?” Reese flicked Uncle Tony a glance. “I delivered a pizza to her.”
“She’s still cute as a button, isn’t she?”
More like sexy as hell. “Yeah.”
“You gonna ask her out?”
“Mom! Jeez . . .”
“It was just a question.”
“I think she’s dating that mayor dude,” Reese replied. He waved a hand through the air as if he didn’t care.
“No, she’s not.”
“Mom, how do you know this?”
She tucked a lock of dark curly hair behind her ear. “This is a small town. Trust me, they’re not dating.”
“Well, he’s eating dinner with her right now.” Reese couldn’t keep from scowling. “So I think that’s about to change.”
“Beat him to the punch,” his mother suggested. “You always were sweet on Gabby.”
Reese shook his head. “The two of you need to butt out of my love life.”
“Not gonna happen,” his mother and uncle responded together.
Reese had to laugh. “Well, at least give me a chance to unpack my suitcases.” He loved them both—even if they couldn’t keep their noses out of his business.
“Tony, you should go on home and let Digger out,” Tessa suggested. “You’ve got circles under your eyes. Get some rest. Reese and I can handle any deliveries that come our way. We’ll close up the kitchen and store the sauce.”
“Thanks, Tessa. I think I’ll take you up on that. I could use a jog and Digger really needs some exercise. I feel rotten that he’s been cooped up day after day. Irish setters need to run.”
“Then get outta here,” Reese insisted. “Mom and I got it covered. Seriously.”
“All right already. Feels like you wanna get rid of me. I might develop a complex or somethin’.”
“Yeah, right.” Reese shook his head.
“Hey, Tessa, the menus arrived. Proofread them and let me know what you think.”
“Will do.”
“And—”
“Tony! For heaven’s sake. Go!” She shooed him with her hands.
Reese laughed when his uncle continued to shout instructions to them as he walked out the door. A minute later a text message came for them to think of a tag line for ads. “He never stops,” Reese said with a shake of his head.
“I sure hope this restaurant is a success,” his mother said while she stirred the sauce and then turned the flame down. “I knew it was a bit of a gamble telling him to come here, but I also knew he needed to get out of Brooklyn and away from what Gloria did to him.”
Reese started slicing some mushrooms. “Mom, closing the Brooklyn pizza shop really tore Uncle Tony up. Losing the family business because you have to hand half of it over to a woman who cheated on you? Yeah, he needed a fresh start.”
She smiled. “Well, despite the circumstances I’m glad to have both of you in Cricket Creek. I sure did miss you, Reese. Sending you to Brooklyn to live with Tony was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I hope you know that.”
Reese paused in his slicing. “You might have mentioned it a time or . . . twenty. Mom, I was hell on wheels and heading down the wrong path fast. I didn’t like it at the time, but trust me, you did the right thing.”
“It’s hard not to act out when your father up and leaves you. Rebellion was your way of dealing. Depression was mine. I’m so sorry I was in that dark place, Reese. After he left I should have been there for you.”
“Have you filed for divorce?” Reese hated to ask, but his mother needed to find closure and move on with her life.
“No.” She concentrated on the sauce as if it had the answers to the universe.
“You can get one based on abandonment. All you have to do is post a notice in the paper and make a reasonable effort to find him, Mom.” Reese had done the research. “Come on, we don’t even go by Parker anymore. Take that last step.”
“That’s just it. I’m not so certain I want to find him.” She stirred the sauce slowly and then tapped the big spoon against the edge.
“If you ask me, he should have to explain why he left,” Reese muttered, but when his mother swallowed hard he decided it was time to drop the subject.
“You’re right. Maybe someday I’ll muster up the courage to file the petition. For right now I just want to enjoy having you back home.” She swiped at a tear and then patted her chest. “Ah, but it made my heart hurt every single day you were gone.”
“I shouldn’t have put you through all the crap I did back in high school. You needed me to man up instead of adding to your problems. I hope I can make it up to you.”
She smiled. “You can.”
“How?”
“Grandbabies!” She raised her hands skyward.
“What?” Reese tossed his head back and laughed. “I’m only twenty-six and I need a little thing called a girlfriend to get that whole ball rolling.”
“I’m sure you’ll find one.” She angled her head in the direction of Flower Power.
Reese tossed the mushrooms into a plastic container and sealed the lid. “Like I told Uncle Tony, Gabby will always think of me as trouble, and if you remember she avoided trouble at all costs.”
“You’re an accomplished young man with a lot to offer. You’re not that kid anymore.”
“I think in her eyes, I am. And you have to admit that I stick out among all the country boys in Cricket Creek.”
“It’s pretty simple really. Show her the man you’ve become.”
“I’ve got nothing to prove,” Reese answered firmly. “Those days are done.”
“Believe me, I understand.” She waved her hand in the air. “Forget about it,” she said, and then laughed. “Ohmigosh, I’m starting to sound like Tony and I haven’t lived in Brooklyn in years.”
Reese grinned back at her. “A Brooklyn accent laced with a Southern drawl. Gotta love it. But hey, let’s drop the subject for now too. I just moved back. I’ve got plenty of time for a love life after we get this restaurant up and running.”
“Deal,” she said, but there was a slight twinkle in her eye that told a different story.
They talked shop and shared coffee and a cannoli that his mother raved about, but in the back of his mind Reese couldn’t forget about Gabby. Plus, it really ticked him off that she assumed he was just a pizza delivery guy barely worthy of an introduction. He was looking forward to seeing her reaction when she found out otherwise.
Reese sighed. The tattoos, the shaggy long hair, the stubble on his face along with his sleek black motorcycle weren’t props but an honest representation of finally being comfortable in his own skin. Tony taught him to be proud of his background and where he came from all the way back to his Italian roots. Being a river rat had been tough, no doubt, but he’d survived and was stronger for it. Reese no longer cared what people thought of him, so why did Gabby’s dismissal of him hurt so damned much?
Reese knew the reason. Good girl Gabby’d been the one he’d always wanted but never really went after. Except for once.
Reese sighed when he remembered. . . .
• • •
“Hey, can I give you a ride?” Reese asked when he spotted Gabby walking out of the side door of Cricket Creek High School. He grinned when she looked over her shoulder as if he must be asking someone else.
“Oh, um, I’m . . . fine. Thanks. I enjoy the walk,” she insisted, but she shifted her backpack as if it were too heavy to carry. The damned thing was almost as big as she was.
“Sure you do.” Reese walked around her. “Gimme that thing.”
“What thing?”
�
��That monster on your back.” Reese grabbed the straps and tugged it off her shoulders. “What in the world do you have in here? Bricks?”
“Books, Reese. We have finals coming up.” When Gabby looked at him her long ponytail slipped over her shoulder. He used to tug it when they were little kids, but right now he had the urge to simply reach over and touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked. She gave his truck a wary glance.
“It runs,” Reese assured her before opening the door and hefting her backpack inside. “Get in, Gabby. It looks like it’s gonna rain.”
The rumble of thunder had her nodding. “Okay.”
Reese grinned when she had trouble hoisting herself up onto the seat, but he knew she would freak out if he helped and so he let her deal with it while he walked over to the driver’s side. Just after Reese slid behind the wheel, it started pouring, but he was secretly glad because it meant having to go slow and spend more time with Gabby. She seemed nervous, toying with the strap of her backpack.
“So, are you going to the prom?” he asked casually, not even sure why.
She flicked him a glance. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have a date.” She lifted one shoulder slightly as if it didn’t matter, but Reese could tell that it did. He wasn’t much on crap like the lame-ass dances, especially the prom, even though his mother had been bugging him about going. But he’d sure bet Gabby would look pretty in a prom dress. . . .
“Go with me,” Reese found himself saying. His heart pounded while he waited for her answer.
“Right, me go to the prom with . . . you?” She sounded almost angry, but her eyes were filled with an emotion that Reese didn’t understand.
“That’s the idea.”
“Right,” she scoffed, and then shook her head.
Confused and with an emotion bordering on hurt, Reese turned his concentration back to the pouring rain and drove fast enough to have her holding on to the armrest.
• • •
Reese inhaled deeply, shaking off the memory. His mother was right. He wasn’t that troubled kid any longer, but would Gabby ever truly believe that? Reese had his doubts. Besides, he was back in Cricket Creek to help his uncle make a success of River Row Pizza and to live near his mother. He really didn’t need to be thinking about getting involved with someone right now. But when the image of Gabby smiling at Drew slid into his brain, Reese inhaled a sharp breath. He didn’t like the guy and he told himself it was just his protective feelings for her surfacing, but deep down he sure as hell knew better. He was jealous.
But the question was: What was he going to do about it?
3
A Little Bit Stronger
TRISH DANIELS PEEKED THROUGH THE RUFFLED CURTAINS of her kitchen window until Anthony Marino and his dog, Digger, jogged down the road and out of sight. “Oh my . . . my. The man has a butt you could bounce quarters off of,” she observed with a sense of wonder. She fanned her face and then inhaled a deep breath. If she timed it right, she’d get to witness his shirtless return from his run down the path through the nearby woods that led to the county park she’d recently discovered. She was a walker, not a jogger, but she suddenly wondered if she shouldn’t step up her game.
“Thank you, superhot neighbor,” she whispered. Watching her dark-haired, deliciously muscled tenant reignited her pilot light of lust that had been extinguished the moment she caught her now ex-husband banging the front desk receptionist for Daniel’s Cadillac. Trish had burst through the door of Steve’s office unannounced, mainly because the receptionist was, um, busy. She’d been happily armed with the exciting news that she’d been hired as a food critic for Cincinnati Fun and Food Magazine. And, well, there they were . . . on top of Steve’s desk going to town. You would have thought one of them would have the sense to lock the door.
Steve had begged Trish for forgiveness, blaming Heather Hooter (yes, that was her name) for seducing him and saying he’d caved in a moment of weakness—all while assuring her that it would never happen again. “Ha!” Trish tipped the lemon wedge into her sweet tea and then snorted at the memory. Sure, Heather must have found middle-aged Steve so simply irresistible that she threw her twenty-five-year-old self at him. Her so-called seduction had nothing to do with the fact that Steve owned a car dealership, the voice inside Trish’s head railed in a sarcastic tone. No, nothing at all.
Digging deep into a reserve of forgiveness that Steve had managed to deplete over twenty years of marriage, Trish lasted another six months until a repeat performance had her filing for divorce. When Steve realized that no amount of groveling would win her back, he turned mean, telling her she’d pushed him into Heather Hooter’s arms because she’d let herself go. Sadly, Trish believed him until her friend Maggie McMillan talked some sense into her.
“That’s ridiculous,” Maggie had said. “Don’t believe a word of it! Trish, I hate to say it but could it be that Steve wanted to hold on to your marriage so he wouldn’t have to hand over half of everything, specifically half of the dealership?”
“Probably. I just loathe tossing in the towel after investing twenty years of my life,” Trish had tearfully responded. “It sucks so badly.”
“I get that.” Maggie had given her a long look filled with sympathy but support. “I can’t tell you how to live your life or what to do. Only you know what’s best.” She’d held up her index finger. “But I can tell you this much. After my scare with breast cancer I decided to live life to the fullest and not look back.” Placing her hands on the table, she’d said, “Screw looking back, Trish. Do what you want but don’t be afraid to move on.”
“Oh, Maggie, here I am, whining, when you’ve gone through so much more than me.”
“Trish, I’m not trying to guilt-trip you. But I do know that no matter what you’re facing, life is all about attitude.” Maggie had lifted one shoulder. “If I were you, I’d let Steve and his little hussy have the house. You should take the two-family I sold you in Cricket Creek. I’m going to move there and help Tristan develop Whisper’s Edge, the lovely little retirement community he bought from my not so nice father.”
“I love that sweet little town, but what would I do?”
“Write!”
At Maggie’s suggestion Trish felt a little flag of freedom waving within her reach. She had a degree in journalism, but Steve had never supported her writing career. Looking back, Trish realized it was all about control. And I let him control me, she thought, all the way down to taming her natural blond curls into a sleek, flat-ironed chin-length bob and wearing classic but boring clothing.
“Those days are done!”
With a lift of her chin she swept her longer, shoulder-length highlighted curls out of her eyes and padded barefoot over to the fridge to refresh her sweet tea. She’d been to Violet’s Vintage Clothing up on Main Street a few days ago and bought flowing bohemian skirts, peasant blouses, and several pairs of jeans. Oh how she loved jeans rather than the khaki slacks that Steve preferred her to wear. Tomorrow she planned to shop at Designs by Diamante, a local jewelry shop that Maggie said had gorgeous chunky bracelets and beaded necklaces. It had taken some time, but she was finally rediscovering her personal style. And it felt so damned good.
But then Trish looked down at the amber liquid in her glass, absently thinking she needed more ice. Lost in thought, she frowned, tried to focus on her glorious newfound freedom, but her mind took her to a place she didn’t want to go, opening a door she wanted to slam shut forever.
Why had she been so stupid? Wasted twenty years of the prime of her life with a man who didn’t give a shit? From countless hours of pondering the question, Trish knew the answer remained complicated. Her marriage had been like a tire with a small leak, deflating slowly, showing signs but ignored until it was totally flat. Hope and determination trumped the sad truth until Trish was finally smacked in the face with a sharp shot
of reality: her husband was a lying, cheating, mean jackass.
When hot moisture filled her throat, Trish doused it with a gulp of cold tea, refusing to shed another tear related to that poor excuse of a man. She placed the glass down and inhaled a deep, shaky breath. The divorce had taken the better part of a year since Steve fought her every step of the way, acting as if everything belonged to him because he was the big-ass breadwinner who never allowed her to pursue a career.
Or have a child.
Trish put her hand on her stomach and felt a hollow ache of longing. She’d wanted children, but Steve always asked to put it off and then suddenly it was too late. When she’d learned that Heather the hussy was pregnant, depression hit Trish like a sledgehammer, and for the first time in her life she’d felt the destructive stirrings of rage. She remembered going over to the house to get the last of her possessions and maybe break a few things in the process. Heather had been standing in the front yard watering the lush flower bed Trish had nurtured and grown over the years. She’d felt like grabbing the hose and dousing Heather with water until she cried uncle, but when Heather turned around, revealing the big baby bump, something shifted in Trish’s brain. There was a child involved. An innocent child. Whether Heather trapped Steve or the pregnancy had been an accident, the result was the same. The child deserved the best that life had to offer, and in that moment Trish decided to stop fighting and sign the divorce papers. She’d gotten royally screwed, but she didn’t care.
All she wanted to be was . . . done.
Gripping the edge of the counter, she said, “Don’t you dare give that despicable excuse of a human being the power to continue to hurt you. Those days are over.” She pushed back from the counter and mentally picked herself up and brushed herself off. Trish knew it was going to be a process, but little by little, step by step, she was reclaiming the free-spirited, creative woman who had become a mere shell of her former self.
So Trish settled for a lump sum and their two-family rental home, took Maggie’s advice, and relocated to Cricket Creek, Kentucky, where life moved a little bit slower. As long as she lived conservatively and made a little money, she’d be fine.