“That’s terrible.”
“And you wonder why there’s no love lost between us.”
“Not anymore, I don’t. Damn, Tess, if I’d had any idea…maybe I would’ve handled things differently.”
She frowned. “And maybe I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to stay with me out of pity.”
Eli didn’t have to ask her if that’s what made her hesitate before, what made her loathe to bitch about her problems in general, because she didn’t want anybody to feel sorry for her. Man, he could only imagine the number her mother must’ve done on her head…and the inner strength it had taken to overcome it.
“A person would be hard put to see you as a victim,” he said softly, and her eyes darted to his. He shrugged. “Just sayin’. But you know, as much as my folks drive all of us crazy with the meddling and the worryin’ and all of that, hearing you talk about your mother…I’ll never complain about mine again.”
Tess smiled. “Yes, you will.”
“Yeah, probably. But I’ll think twice before I do. Damn, Tess, I’m sorry. I guess I chalked up your issues with your mom to, you know, the normal teenager daughter-mother stuff. I had no idea it was that bad.”
“Neither did I, to be honest. Because she wasn’t mean or anything. Just, like I said…indifferent. Like I was a plant someone had left for her to take care of while they went on vacation. Forget trying to get her approval, I could barely get her attention. So I finally gave up.” Her shoulders hitched as she swept a fry through what was left of her ketchup puddle. Then she smiled, barely meeting his gaze. “It sometimes amazes me I didn’t turn out more screwed up than I am.”
“I just don’t get…” Eli’s hand fisted around his napkin. “How a mother could do that to her own kid.” He paused. “How anyone could do that to you.”
Her eyes darkened for a moment before she shrugged again. “Whatever her reasons, I decided the dysfunction buck stopped with me. That no way was I passing on that particular legacy to my kids. They will know…” She cleared her throat. “They will always know they’re loved, that I wanted them. That I want them around. And that they come first and always will.”
“Good for you,” Eli said over the unexpected, and uncalled for, sting. “I gotta ask, though—did you take up with me in high school because you knew it would frost your mother?”
Tess’s laugh was so sharp heads turned. Pressing her napkin to her mouth, she shook her head. “No,” she said, lowering it. “At least, not consciously. Although she certainly wasn’t amused.”
“So I remember.”
“It’s weird…she’d hardly acknowledge my presence for months, then she’d suddenly realize, oh, crap—when was the last time I watered that plant? Like I’d come out of my room dressed for school and she’d scowl and tell me I looked like a dork. Or a slut,” she muttered.
“Trust me, you never looked like a slut.”
“Thanks. I didn’t think so, either, but…” Tess sighed. “When I started going with you was one of those phases—suddenly nobody was good enough for her precious daughter. She didn’t exactly jump for joy when I got engaged to Enrique, either. Although she had no problem with the ‘Didn’t I tell yous?’ when it fell apart, either. Now that she’s bagged her gringo Texan rancher, though, I suppose she’s finally happy—”
Her phone rang. She dug it out of her purse, frowning at the display. “Yes?…Oh!” Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Yes, of course…I’ll be right there—I mean, I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m in Santa Fe…yes, thank you for calling.”
Eli had already signaled for the check by the time Tess got off the phone, so frantic to leave she bumped into the waitress when she stood, muttering her apologies before streaking toward the front.
He handed the girl a twenty, signaling he didn’t need anything back, then scurried to catch up. “That was Micky’s school,” Tess said, shoving open the door and stomping to the car. “He got hurt at recess—what are you doing?”
“Driving,” Eli said, taking the keys from her.
“But—”
“No way am I putting my life in the hands of someone shaking as badly as you are right now. So just get in and let’s go, okay?”
Amazingly, she didn’t argue.
Chapter Seven
Don’t freak, don’t freak, don’t—
“Omigod,” Tess said under her breath at her first glimpse of her baby through the glass wall separating the nurse’s office from the school’s reception area. The nurse had already warned her that Micky—sitting forlornly on the edge of a cot—was pretty banged up, even though he was basically okay. Now, seeing the result of tender little face meeting asphalt, Tess clasped her hand over her mouth to hold in the gasp.
“You should probably go in,” Eli said, his hand at the small of her back.
“I know,” she said, perilously close to the edge of an emotional cliff. Bad enough she’d started gabbing to Eli about her mother, dredging up all sorts of unpleasantness, but now this? Tears pushed at her eyes; she forced them to retreat through sheer willpower.
“Come on,” Eli said, opening the door. Steering her. Taking charge.
Pushing her closer to the edge of that cliff even as he pushed her into the nurse’s office.
“Hey, buddy,” he said softly, giving Tess a chance to find her voice. Micky’s head shot up. “Heard you had a little accident.”
Eyes bright with tears, his lower lip quivering, he nodded.
“What happened, baby?” Tess said, moving to take him in her arms, but he dodged her hug.
“I was runnin’ and tripped.”
“Somebody’s still a little in shock,” the nurse said, giving Micky’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Unfortunately, no matter how vigilant the duty teachers are, playground accidents sometimes happen. The good news is, it looks a lot worse than it is. We got it all cleaned up, but it’s not bad enough to put a dressing on. Besides, it’ll scab over and heal more quickly that way. So just keep it clean, and if he wants to stay home for a couple of days I’m sure everyone will understand. You can go ahead and sign him out,” she said, then smiled for the child. “You’ve been very brave, Miguel. Your parents should be very proud of you.”
This with a smile for Eli. Oops.
Her heart slowly retreating from her throat, Tess followed Eli and Micky out of the nurse’s office, trying once more to hug him before she signed him out. Again, he pulled away, refusing to let her comfort him.
Her heart aching, Tess glanced at Eli. Is this a boy thing I don’t know about?
“It’s okay,” he mouthed. Then, louder, “Go on, we’ll wait right here.”
Before she got to the desk, however, she heard Eli say in a low voice, “You know, I’m bettin’ your mama could really use a hug right now.”
“How come?”
“To make her feel better.”
“But I’m the one who got hurt.”
“I know. But she’s the one who got scared.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Tess caught Micky’s frown. “You sure she needs a hug?”
“Oh, I’d bet my life on it.”
Her signature barely recognizable because the stupid sign-out sheet went all blurry on her, Tess turned just as Micky’s arms wrapped around her waist, pressing the uninjured side of his face into her stomach.
She looked up, her gaze running smack-dab into Eli’s, and he gave her an A-OK sign and a smile, and her stomach went all fizzy and fluttery on her, and she thought, Oh, hell, no, I am so not falling for this guy.
Except she so was.
Then, on the way out to the car they passed a glass display case, as bad as a mirror. Before Tess could shuttle Micky past it, the little boy turned…and gasped. Eli bent beside him, his hand on his shoulder.
“Dude…I didn’t want to say anything in front of your mother,” he said in a stage whisper, “but you look seriously awesome.”
“Huh?”
“Check it out—you look
just like a zombie or something—”
“Eli, for heaven’s sake—”
“Yeah?” Micky said, suddenly much more cheerful. “Cool!”
Over her son’s head, Tess shot Eli a look. He shrugged, grinning, and the fizzing got so bad it almost made her sick.
Tess jerked awake from a weirdly disturbing dream in which she was a hot dog, suffocating inside the bun.
Behind her—as in, plastered right up against her backside—Miguel snored. And against her stomach, Julia’s Pull-Up’ed butt wiggled. Good thing I’m not looking for a husband, Tess thought as she extricated herself from assorted offspring, ’cause there’d be no room for him in the bed anyway.
If that was supposed to cheer her up, it didn’t. Partly because her treacherous, half-asleep brain immediately conjured up the image of a grinning, naked, aroused Eli in that bed—without the kids, obviously—partly because she still hadn’t gotten over how deftly he’d handled Miguel after the playground mishap three days before.
Her stomach fizzed just thinking about it.
The groan tried desperately to escape when she bent over to search for her slippers, one only partially due to her Eli musings. Okay, she thought as the muscles in her lower back shrieked, maybe she was overdoing the painting just a tad.
Fervently hoping the kids would stay asleep long enough for the shower massage to beat the tar out of her, Tess Frankensteined it out to the hall and smacked at the thermostat, then into the bathroom, where she—stupidly—caught her reflection. At least the electric-socket hair distracted from the hamster pouches under her eyes.
Mourning her lost youth, or something, she lurched into the toilet closet, peed, then to the shower, and turned it on, emitting a rapturous sigh when steam billowed forth like a thousand gentle hands, beckoning. Caressing. Promising miracles. “Oh, yeah, baby,” she murmured, shucking her nightgown—
“Mama?”
Yelping, Tess grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around her, frowning at her son. Who hadn’t seen her naked since he was, like, one. Fortunately, his lids were still at half-mast, so with any luck they weren’t talking permanent trauma. Or permanent scarring, thank God. Except for a few splotchy scabs, you could barely tell he’d looked like Two-Face a few days before.
“What are you doing up, honey? It’s still real early.”
“You left an’ I got cold.” Yawning, he trundled into the water closet and banged up the seat. “An’ I’m hungry,” he said over the waterfall imitation.
“Then go fix yourself a bowl of cereal,” she said when he emerged. “You know how to do that. And you turn yourself right back around and flush that toilet.”
Rolling his eyes, Micky stomped back, yelling, “We’re all out,” as he flushed.
“No, we’re not.”
“Yeah, we are. I looked.” Underneath a bedhead only a Yeti mama could love, dark eyes brightened. “We got Teddy Grahams, though.”
“Close enough.” Couldn’t be any worse than Apple Jacks. Still, even as she heard a sleepy, “Mama?” from the bedroom, she mentally added a double helping of broccoli to his plate that night. “And share with your sister!” she called to Miguel’s back as he trudged barefoot from the room.
“On it!” he said, and Tess sputtered a laugh.
Ten steamy minutes later she was clean, dressed and—glory be—could move without looking like she was held together by rods and pins. She went into the kitchen to put on coffee, swiping a few Teddy Grahams along the way.
“Mine!” Julia bellowed, hands on hips.
“So take more,” Tess said, spooning coffee into the basket, noticing Miguel had not only added string cheese to the menu but had poured them both plastic tumblers of juice. “And anyway, technically they’re not yours,” she said, mopping up Lake Citrus on the counter, “since I bought them. I just let you eat them ’cause I’m nice like that.”
“Huh?” Miguel said as the baby frowned, then said, “I went potty!”
In the midst of rinsing out the sponge, Tess twisted around. “You did?”
“Yup,” the baby said, with a curl-bouncing nod, her cheeks pooched out with bear bits, Tess assumed.
“What did you do with the Pull-Up?”
“In dere,” Julia said in her adorable little whisper, pointing to the garbage.
Obsessively peeling his cheese, Child Numero Uno asked, “What’s that stuff on your mouth?”
“Lipstick. Which you know.” Since the kid used to beg her to wear it himself when he was three. A secret Tess would carry to the grave. “What’s the big deal?”
Miguel let out a mighty sigh. “The big deal,” he said, gesticulating like a character from “The Sopranos,” “is that the funny pants look weird with the lipstick.”
The funny pants being overalls. Seen-better-days, paint-spattered overalls, to be exact. The coffee gurgling to life behind her, Tess almost laughed. “You working the night shift in the Fashion Police now?”
The kid looked duly puzzled for a moment or two, then shoved another unsuspecting bear into his mouth. “It just doesn’t look right. You don’t look like Mama, you look like…”
Tread carefully, little man. “Who?”
“Like Carmen’s little sister when she’s going on a date.”
Tess frowned. “You know what a date is?”
“Kinda. It’s when a boy and girl go see a movie or get a pizza or something. Although what I don’t get is, why she has to put all that junk on her face to eat pizza or sit in the dark?”
“Good point,” Tess said, while, around remnants of preservative-enchanced beasties, her stomach clenched. Because the kid was right, damn his precious little hide, she had taken far more care about her makeup this morning than was necessary for a date with a roller and a gallon of Desert Mocha.
Oh, dear God. She was primping?
Tess timorously glanced at her reflection in the over-the-stove microwave, horrified to discover the lipstick had company. Hard to tell in the dark door, but unless she was mistaken she’d even gotten cozy with the concealer.
Okay, this doing-stuff-without-realizing thing was getting a little creepy.
“You know,” she said, pouring her coffee with a slightly trembling hand, “I think maybe I’ll just wash this off. I’m only gonna get paint on my face, anyway, right? So you two finish up with, um, breakfast and brush your teeth and I’ll be back out in a sec, then we can get outta here—”
“Mom.”
“What?”
Another dramatic sigh. “We’re not dressed?”
See, this was the problem with the stomach fizzies—they also corroded your brain.
Remember the plan where you were gonna pack up your hormones along with your wedding rings, never to be seen again? Whatever happened to that?
Eli happened, that’s what.
Barking at Miguel to find clothes, any clothes, she didn’t care as long as they didn’t freeze to death, Tess marched into her bathroom and washed off every single molecule of makeup. Then she smushed half a can of mousse into her hair and took the brush to it, smashing it flat and away from her face so that her ears—which she’d always hated—stuck out. Finally, satisfied she’d made herself sufficiently hideous, she tromped into the baby’s room to get her dressed, taking some small satisfaction when Julia flinched and backed away until she realized it was still Mama.
And let that be a lesson to me, Tess thought, yanking a little purple hoodie over her daughter’s head. Still Mama, only Mama…never again gonna be anything but Mama.
And no, hot Mama was not part of that equation.
Her landline rang. “It’s Daddy!” Miguel yelled.
All those muscles she’d gotten nice and loose? Kinked right back up again.
Eli hadn’t realized how shallowly he’d been breathing until he heard Tess’s car pull up in front of the old house. Because Tess was never late. In fact, before this moment, he would’ve said Tess didn’t know how to be late. But she’d been late this morning and it’
d scared the crap out of him. Of course, now he knew she was all right, he also knew better than to let on he’d even given her lateness a second thought. None of his business what had held her up. And for damn sure he didn’t have any business worrying about her.
Okay, maybe worrying might be overstating it.
Or not.
Especially when Tess stormed in through the front door like a pissed-off yellow jacket on crack, barely mumbling a greeting to the guys sanding the living room floor on her way back to the hall bathroom, which she’d been planning on painting today, and relief flooded through Eli so strong it nearly made him dizzy.
“And don’t you dare follow me!” she yelled, stripping off her fleece jacket as he followed her down the hall. Good Lord, she was practically lost in those overalls. What happened to the skinny jeans? More to the point, what happened to the adorable little behind in the skinny jeans?
Not to mention everything he’d told himself about only wanting to make things up to her after the stunt he’d pulled way back when?
“Yeah?” he said, wading right into the quicksand anyway. “Whatcha gonna do to stop me? Beat me up?”
“Not in the mood, Eli,” she said, squatting down to pry the lid off a can of light brown paint, at which point he realized—
“What the hell’d you do to your hair?”
The glare was brief, but potent. And just long enough to tell she wasn’t wearing any makeup, either. Hell, woman looked like she’d had the flu for a week. Eli crouched beside her, squelching the urge to take the screwdriver from her and pop off the stubborn lid himself. Since she looked like she might bite.
“Okay, that didn’t come out right—”
“No,” she said on a grunt, “it came out fine. Exactly the reaction I was hoping for, actually.”
Eli frowned. “Tess? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re acting really weird. Even for you.” She swore when the screwdriver slipped, scraping her palm. The hell with this, Eli thought, grabbing both the tool and her wounded hand.
A Marriage-Minded Man Page 10