“Look,” he said. “I figure we drive into Austin, hit a mall, look in some jewelry stores, catch some lunch, hit a movie, have some dinner…you said you don’t know me. How are you going to get to know me if you don’t spend more time with me?”
“Shopping for a ring?”
“It’s something we’ll need to do if you say yes, so we’re killing two birds with one stone. Finding a ring, getting to know me.”
She laughed at the absurdity of it. “You make it sound so absolutely unenticing. An obligation you obviously would prefer not to do. Come on in while I get ready.”
She opened the door wider and when he stepped inside said, “Dad and Riker are in the kitchen finishing up their breakfast if you want some coffee.”
“Nah, I’ll just wait here.”
“I told Dad about the baby,” she said quietly.
“Then I’ll definitely just stay here. The man has guns, after all.”
Smiling brightly, suddenly so glad that he was here, she went into the kitchen to let her dad know that she was going out for the day. Then she hurried up the stairs to her room to get ready to go out.
Getting ready didn’t entail changing clothes so much as it did removing her rings. She stood at the mirrored dresser where the jewelry box from her youth rested in the center. She opened it and the ballerina—tilting to one side, the spring that supported her having lost some of its spring—turned slowly as music tinkled. Her senior ring and Steve’s senior ring resided within this box. Steve’s wedding band was in her jewelry box in Hopeful. And eventually she would move the rings she now wore on her finger to that box as well.
But for now, she needed to put them in a place of safekeeping. She didn’t want to remove them in a jewelry store as she placed another wedding band on her finger to test its size. She’d known this moment would come someday—the removing of her wedding ring. She’d known it would be hard.
But she hadn’t expected it to feel…right. As though the time had arrived to finally say good-bye. With great care, tears stinging her eyes, she eased the rings off her finger. Then she pressed them to her lips and whispered, “Thank you, Steve. The years were too few, but they were the best.”
She placed the rings on the worn velvet of the box and closed the lid. “Good-bye, my love.”
With a deep breath, she headed for the stairs at the bottom of which another man waited for her.
Chapter 16
As Hunter walked through the mall holding Serena’s hand, he couldn’t stop himself from constantly rubbing her bare finger. She’d removed her rings, which to him signaled two things: the serious possibility that she was willing to put another man’s ring on her finger and the real probability that she was putting the mourning of her husband aside.
He needed both to be true in order to go into this relationship the way he intended, with a total commitment. Of course, it occurred to him that if he kept rubbing her finger the way that he was that he was going to remove her skin and she wouldn’t be able to try on any rings.
She was a slow walker, looking in windows, stepping closer to look something over. Her eyes would light up when her gaze fell on something that appealed to her. He could actually see her mentally shaking her head, telling herself no, urging her feet to move when she saw something that she really liked that, for some reason, she didn’t want to purchase.
“We can go in and look around,” he told her at one point when she’d stopped at a gewgaw store. A junk store really—judging by all the different things in the window that seemed to have no rhyme or reason or pattern to their display.
She shook her head. “I just like to window shop. I would like to browse through a bookstore if we have time.”
“We have all day.”
She seemed pleased by his answer and it pleased him to think that he might have made her happy.
They finally reached a jewelry store. Her palm grew damp against his, or maybe it was his growing damp against hers. They looked at each other, and he thought they probably resembled two kids who’d gotten into trouble doing something they shouldn’t have.
Come to think of it, the truth wasn’t that far off.
Looking into her brown eyes, he thought about that first night when she’d had too much to drink. Even then, though, there had been trust in those eyes. He’d been determined not to let her down that night. To give her stars and comets and supernovas. He thought he’d managed to give those to her. In addition, somewhere along the way he’d given her a child.
That he hadn’t counted on.
But it was a notion he was growing comfortable with, an idea that was beginning to sound better by the minute. He hadn’t wanted to disappoint her that night when she was little more than a stranger. She was much more than that now, and he definitely had no plans to disappoint her.
He took a deep breath, recognizing that they might be taking the first step toward the last step. “Should we walk in together?”
“We’re just going to look, right?”
Suddenly she looked frightened, unsure. Hopeful, anticipatory.
Just as she had that first night.
Holding her gaze, he lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss into the center of her palm. And took her into the store.
Serena had planned to go along, to play the game, to pretend that he might actually place a ring on her finger…and then he’d given her the look that he’d given her that first night.
Trust me.
When he’d kissed her palm, she’d thought she might turn to mush right there in the middle of the mall and had totally surrendered.
He did, however, have the most atrocious taste in jewelry. She kept directing him toward the plain gold bands, he kept asking the sales clerk to bring out the biggest, gaudiest rings she’d ever laid eyes on. Her gaze did keep straying to one ring with a marquise diamond in its center and three diamonds on two sides of the wedding band that would eventually enclose the diamond engagement ring. She thought it was elegant.
But it wasn’t something she was going to say that she wanted. She didn’t want him spending a lot of money on something that might be returned.
It was different when a person was shopping for rings with someone whom she loved. But when you were shopping on the off-chance that he could convince you to marry him…the excitement was lacking.
A diamond meant forever. She and Hunter hadn’t spoken about forever. They’d simply barked about now. About what they were going to do for the short term—if anything. Get to know each other. It was insane. She was insane. Insane to even be here in this jewelry store entertaining the notion that she might be getting married again.
It was an insult to couples everywhere who started out hoping for forever—even though it didn’t always work.
They were here looking at rings because of a maybe, a temporary, a let’s see how it goes.
“That one looks really nice on you,” said the clerk, whose name tag read “Gerald.”
She tugged it off. “It’s cheap.”
Hunter released a sigh that left no doubt in her mind that he was growing impatient with the game. Fine. If he didn’t have the patience for this, then how would he have the patience for house-hunting or PTA meetings or nights when she was too tired for sex.
“Okay,” Hunter said. “I don’t call four thousand cheap, but if you do”—he nodded toward Gerald—“what have you got that costs a little more?”
She shook her head. “I’m not talking about its expense. I’m referring to the way it looks. It’s not me, Hunter.”
“All right then, which one is you?”
“You tell me.”
He stared at her as though she’d just rattled off a complicated math equation that even a genius would need a calculator to solve.
She leaned toward Gerald. “Could you give us a minute?”
“Certainly. You’re shopping for something that’s going to last you a lifetime. I’m not going to rush you.”
He closed the glass case, lock
ed it up, and took the key with him as he hastened to the other end of the counter.
“This is pointless, Hunter. We don’t know each other. You don’t know my taste in things. I don’t know yours.”
“That’s what today is about. Getting to know each other.”
He sounded like a young boy who’d just been told that the kid with the baseball was going home and taking the ball with him.
“It takes more than a day—”
“I know that. It takes a whole slew of days strung together. I’m not being naïve here. We have to start somewhere, so we start with the ring.” Turning, he signaled for Gerald.
Gerald hurried over. “Yes, sir.”
Hunter tapped on the glass. “That one right there in the corner, that’s the one she wants.”
“Excellent choice. Very sophisticated.” He unlocked the glass case and removed the ring.
Serena stared as he set the ring she had indeed taken an interest in on the glass countertop.
“I believe we’re in luck, because I think it’s your size,” Gerald said as he took the ring off the velvet finger that had been used to display it. “Yes, indeedy, it’s a five. Would you like to try it on?”
She looked at Hunter, looked at the ring, looked at Gerald. Hunter took the ring from Gerald, took her hand, and slid the ring into place. A perfect fit.
And it did look as elegant as she’d known it would. It was the kind of ring that she’d always felt guilty for wanting. A ring Steve never could have afforded. A ring she never would have asked for.
“It’s too much,” she whispered.
“We’ll take it,” Hunter said.
She snapped her attention to Hunter. “You can’t purchase it.”
“Sure I can.”
“What if—”
“We’ll worry about the what-ifs later. It’s the one you want and it fits. We’ll take it.”
“Excellent decision,” Gerald said, his smile beaming as brightly as any jewel in the case. “And, may I assume that you’ll want a ring for the groom?”
“We will,” Hunter said, and Serena knew what was coming before he uttered the fateful words with a challenge evident in his eyes. “Now, you tell me which one I want.”
It wasn’t the one he would have chosen had he been the one doing the choosing. But he figured admitting that might get Serena to thinking that she didn’t know him well enough to marry him, and he wasn’t willing to risk that.
The ring she’d selected was smooth. Simple. He’d liked one that had some etching in it. He’d just thought it looked a little more masculine, but in the end, to him, a ring was a ring. The only piece of jewelry he’d ever worn was a watch, and he didn’t consider it jewelry. In his business it was a tool. So he’d never really worn jewelry.
Of course, at the moment, Serena wasn’t either. The rings he’d purchased were to be used maybe, just in case, if they decided to get married. Correction. If she decided to marry him, because he’d already decided that he wanted to marry her.
She sat across from him now at a white cloth-covered table beside a large window that looked out over the lake. The sun would be setting soon, the scene would be spectacular. He’d considered taking her to his place, allowing her to watch the sunset from there, but he figured today that they needed lots of neutral territory. Places where she wouldn’t feel threatened or pressured.
The waiter had lit the candle in the center of the table before he’d taken their order. Hunter had ordered a Riesling wine. He never had been a wine drinker but he thought it would lend an air of elegance to the evening that he thought was probably needed when a man was going to make a formal proposal of marriage. Serena was barely sipping it.
“I don’t drink when I’m pregnant,” she’d said in a low voice, a blush on her cheeks. “But a few sips probably won’t hurt.”
He didn’t want her drunk, but he did want her a little more relaxed, a little more receptive.
“What did your father say when you told him about your condition?” he asked.
She turned her attention away from the sunset. “He offered to get out his guns.”
“I appreciate that you dissuaded him from taking that course of action.”
“It’s the twenty-first century. I don’t think people do shotgun weddings—”
Her cell phone ringing had her digging into her purse to retrieve it. He’d planned for a nice romantic evening—
“Hi, Jack.”
Great. Hunter signaled the waiter to come over and ordered himself bourbon on the rocks. He was trying not to listen, but based on her beaming smile and her “That’s wonderful! When? I’m so happy for you,” along with all the other gushing, he assumed the news was good.
His drink had been delivered and he’d downed it by the time she finally closed up the cell phone and slipped it back into her purse.
“That was Jack,” she said.
“So I gathered. Good news.”
“Kelley is pregnant. Their baby is due about six weeks before mine. How ironic. Riker was born six weeks before Jason.”
He didn’t miss the fact that she’d referred to this kid she was carrying as hers. He felt a possessiveness kick into him that he wasn’t totally prepared to deal with.
“Ours,” he said.
“What?”
“Their baby is due six months before ours.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said ‘mine.’ ”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think of this baby as only mine.”
“You don’t think of it as ours either. You said, and I quote, ‘Their baby is due about six weeks before mine.’ Meaning yours when you should have said ours, meaning ours.”
She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Hell, if I know.” He was babbling like an idiot, doing some sort of comedic routine.
“Do you always argue over inconsequential things?” she asked.
“This isn’t arguing.”
“What do you call it?”
“Discussing, trying to make a point.”
“The point being?”
“It’s our baby.”
He looked out the window and glared at the setting sun because he didn’t want to glare at her. You didn’t ask a woman to marry you with anger ringing in your voice or fury burning in your eyes.
“You see, this is the very reason why we can’t get married.”
He snapped his head around, not having any luck at not glaring. “What is?”
“I don’t know you well enough to know you’re not angry. To me, you look angry.”
“I’m not angry. I’ll admit I’m a little ticked off.” He released a deep, calming breath. “I brought you here for a reason.”
He reached inside his jacket, took out seventeen toothpicks he’d brought from home, and set them before her.
“What are these?” she asked.
“Remember that second night when you started playing twenty questions?”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Yeah.”
“Well, you have seventeen questions left. I figure you giving me a toothpick when you ask a question would make it easier to keep track of how many questions you have remaining.”
She picked one up, turned it one way, then another, examining it. “Why is there a black mark on the end?”
“If you don’t ask all your questions tonight, you can hold onto them until later. And I don’t have to suspect you of slipping in any unauthorized toothpicks.”
She smiled as though he were some sort of genius. “They’re nonexpiring, then?”
“That’s right. Seventeen personal questions. That’s all you get. Once you’ve asked them, that’s it.”
She appeared to be incredibly pleased, setting the toothpicks into a perfect line, giving them more attention than she had the ring she’d selected this afternoon. Women. He didn’t know if he’d ever figure them out. The way she was acting, you’d think he’d coated the littl
e sticks in gold.
She nudged one of the toothpicks across the table toward him. “Why are you called Hunter?”
“My mother’s maiden name.”
He picked up the toothpick, broke it in half, and dropped it into his empty bourbon glass. She looked crestfallen.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I thought there’d be more to it than that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. That you were a skilled hunter or when you were a boy you were always out in the woods.” She shrugged. “I guess I was expecting a story, something profound, some little hint to your childhood.”
“Nope. Mother’s maiden name. That’s it.”
“What’s your middle name?”
He held out a hand.
She shook her head. “Nope. It’s not worth a toothpick.”
“Then you don’t get an answer.”
“You know, I’ve asked you questions since that night and you weren’t counting them.”
“They weren’t personal questions.”
“So you’ll answer questions without a toothpick if you don’t think they’re personal?”
“Right.”
She picked up a toothpick and began tapping it against her chin. He could see the wheels whirring inside that pretty little head of hers. How could she get the most out of him?
“Tell me about your childhood.”
“That’s not a question.”
She glowered at him. “I have a feeling that you’re manipulating all the little rules to this game so you only answer what you want to answer.”
“The game is twenty questions,” he pointed out.
She rolled her eyes, then moved the toothpicks to the side as the waiter set salads in front of them. She picked up a fork and began tossing the lettuce around as though she didn’t think the chef had done an adequate job. Hunter speared a generous portion, ate it, went back for more.
A toothpick landed on top of a tomato. He peered up at her, wondering what question she’d come up with that might help her figure him out. Something in her eyes alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t going to like the question. He wasn’t going to like it one bit.
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