A Marriage-Minded Man

by Karen Templeton

  “Tomorrow. Give the kids something to do.”

  “Now’s as good a time as any,” he said, slipping off his jacket and tossing it over the sofa arm. “That way you and the kids can get to decorating it right away. Where you planning on putting it? Over against that wall? Or in front of the window? ’Course, if you do ditch the sofa I suppose you can put it pretty much anywhere you like—”

  “For goodness sake, Eli—I didn’t invite you over to put up my Christmas tree! I thought—” She stopped, blushing.

  The tree freed from its coffin, Eli looked over at her. “I didn’t come over to sleep with you,” he said quietly.

  “You…didn’t.”

  “No, ma’am. Not tonight, anyway.”

  “Okay…did I miss something?”

  “Tess…” He glanced down, a muscle working in his cheek, before looking at her again. “If I only wanted…that, I’d have no trouble finding a willing partner.” When she choked back a laugh, he shrugged. “Just bein’ honest. But that’s not what I want from you. Let me rephrase that,” he said, chuckling. “It’s not all I want from you.”

  He stood and walked over to her, cupping her shoulders, and she shivered, and he smiled. A sweet, calm smile that tore her into itty-bitty pieces inside. “What I want,” he said softly, “is a relationship with you. A real one. Somebody I can talk to, can talk with. Somebody who’s cool with sometimes just hanging out and puttin’ up the Christmas tree. Sex…that’s just the icing on the cake. Make no mistake—I love icing,” he said, the grin widening. “The richer and sweeter, the better. But I got over eating it straight from the bowl a long time ago.”

  With that, he dropped a kiss on her forehead and went back to crouch in front of the dismembered tree. “So. You know where you want this?”

  So not how she’d envisioned the evening. Nor did she expect to find herself more relieved than disappointed. “Um…over in that corner, I guess.”

  Ten minutes later, curled up on the sofa she now couldn’t wait to see leave, watching the Big, Strong, Handsome Dude wrestle fake conifer branches into submission, she had to admit…it was nice, just talking, and sitting and marveling at this person in her living room, doing something for her she wouldn’t have to do. Sure, her antennae tingled—along with other things—as she acknowledged the scenario’s pitfalls, i.e. the voice murmuring, Don’t get used to this, honey. But as the minutes ticked by, she could feel months of stress begin to seep from her body, even as her eyes grew heavier and her words slurred.

  Eli glanced over, another smile toying with his mouth. “Sleepy?”

  She yawned into the back of her hand. “Too much turkey. And stuffing and pecan pie and—” Another yawn. “Everything.”

  “So why don’t you snooze for a few minutes while I finish this up?”

  Even as she squished the throw pillow underneath her head, she mumbled, “What is it about you that always makes me pass out?”

  Eli chuckled. And oh, my, was she growing fond of that chuckle…

  The voices jolted her awake some time later. Eli’s and Micky’s. As she struggled out of sleep—and the throw Eli had apparently draped over her—she noticed the tree was not only up, but the red and gold garlands were strung. Eli and her son were both sitting on the floor in front of the fire, their backs to her, eating pie—Donna had insisted on sending home leftovers—and engaged in earnest conversation.

  “And what are you doing out of bed, young man?” she said, sitting up.

  Both heads turned to her. “I hadta pee,” Micky said with a shrug, then grinned, cherry filling all over his face. “Look, Mama—Eli put the tree up!”

  “I can see that.”

  Looking back at the lit tree, the boy sighed. “This has been the best day of my life. Can we start puttin’ stuff on it now?”

  “No,” Tess said. “Tomorrow. Now you need to rebrush your teeth—and don’t ‘awww’ me, you know you have to—and get back in bed.”

  “Go on, squirt,” Eli said gently, cupping the back of Micky’s head. “Do what your mama says.”

  Grumbling, Micky got to his feet and started toward the hall, then turned. “Can you come help us decorate the tree tomorrow?”

  “I’d love to, big guy…but I got work to do getting the house ready for your mom, so she can show it to people on Saturday.”

  “It’s okay, I understand,” Micky said, wearing the same resigned expression he trotted out whenever his father pulled one of his “Gee, I’m so sorry, but I can’t” tricks.

  “Hey,” Eli said, now on his feet, as well. “C’mere.”

  When Micky returned, Eli leaned over, a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m not blowing you off,” he said gently, looking directly into her son’s eyes. “I swear. I really am busy. But…” Eli looked at Tess. “If you need help putting up outside decorations, I could maybe swing by on Sunday?”

  “Yes,” Micky said with a fist bump, even as Tess sucked in a breath.

  “There’s no rush,” she said, eye to eye, as deliberately as she could. “We have plenty of time. It’s…another whole week until December.”

  One side of Eli’s mouth kicked up. “You don’t want to wait until it’s too cold, though.”

  She paused. “I won’t. I promise.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Micky said, his hands on his hips, and both of them burst out laughing.

  “You, back to bed,” Tess said, lightly swatting him on the rump. “And you,” she said to Eli, “need to go home.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, ambling to the door as she kept an eye out to make sure her child actually made it all the way back to his bedroom. Eli didn’t open the door, though, until she joined him there, when he leaned over and dropped a soft, slow kiss on her mouth, the kind of kiss that left her still slightly puckered when it was done, wanting more. “This has been one of the nicer days of my life, too,” he murmured. “At least, by the end,” he said with a grin and a wink, plunking his hat on his head. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  Tess stood at the door, watching him make his loose-limbed way down the porch steps, thinking, It’s okay, I can handle this, immediately followed by, Yeah, right. Because for one thing she had no earthly clue what this even was. Or could be. Or, more important, what she wanted it to be. All she knew was, once he was gone, she missed him.

  And that, boys and girls, was not a good sign.

  But no sense worrying about that today, Scarlett, she thought on a sigh as she went back inside and shut the door. Right now she needed to concentrate on getting that house sold, not on grinning, good-looking ex-boyfriends determined to worm their way back into her life.

  Her heart.

  Just as she was putting the smeared pie plates into the dishwasher, Enrique called. “Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”

  Tess frowned. “It’s…going fine.”

  “You and the kids have a good day?”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess…. Ricky, why are you calling?”

  “Look, I know this is kinda last minute, and I know I missed Thanksgiving, but if you want I could still take the kids Saturday and Sunday.”

  “Well, actually…” It’s not about you, cookie, it’s about them. “Yeah, sure, that would be good, since I’ve got an open house on Saturday. But why’d you change your mind?”

  A very long silence preceded, “Because there’s somebody I’d like them to meet.”

  Eli had just settled in front of the TV with a DVD in the player and the cat on his lap when his cell rang. Seeing Tess’s number, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “Hey, there.” Breathe, breathe…“What’s up?”

  “Um…never mind, this is dumb, pretend I never called. I mean, you’re probably busy—”

  “That’s why some bright dude invented the pause button. Tess? Talk to me.”

  By this point his heart was going whumpawhumpawhumpa and his brain had taken off for parts unknown. For Tess to call him about anything…this was huge. Beyon
d huge. And, truth be told, more than a little scary.

  “I just…1 need somebody to vent to for a minute,” she said. “Not dump on,” she quickly added. “There’s a difference.”

  “Goes without saying,” Eli said, even though he was thinking, There is?

  “It’s just…. Ricky just called. He wants to take the kids after all, on Saturday and Sunday. Because…” She cleared her throat. “Because he wants them to get to know his new girlfriend.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah.”

  Stalling—because what the hell did he know?—Eli reached for the Coke sitting on his coffee table, uprooting the cat, who gave him the You will so die look and stalked to the other side of the couch. “You okay with that? The kids being with somebody you don’t know, I mean?”

  “Actually, I do know her. Sorta. A gal in the office where he works. I’ve talked to her a couple times. She seems…nice. Sweet. Ricky says she’s got a little girl of her own.”

  “And you want to punch something, right?”

  She let out a sharp, not-funny laugh. “This is stupid. I should be taking this a lot better than I apparently am.”

  Not what a guy falling hard for a woman wants to hear. Still, she’d called him, right? “Want me to come over?” he quietly asked.

  “No,” she said, sighing. “It’s not that bad. I’m not that bad. It’s just…it’s history, you know? Why should I even care? And it’s not as if I didn’t expect this someday. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth…it was like all those feelings came rushing back.”

  “What feelings?”

  Long pause. “That I failed. That I wasn’t good enough.”

  “You do know that’s a crock?”

  “I didn’t say it was logical. But thanks for the bitch slap. I needed that. Listen, I should let you get back to your movie—”

  “It can wait, Tess—”

  “No, really, I’m fine. I actually feel much better, I swear. So…thanks.”

  “But I didn’t do anything.”

  She hesitated, then said, “You were there, Eli. That’s…a lot. Well. Bye—”

  “No, wait—how about I pick you up after the open house? We can go someplace for dinner. Maybe up to Santa Fe.”

  This pause was at least three times longer than the others. “You mean, like a date?”

  “Like, nothing. I’m asking you out.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath; Eli held his. “Okay, you’re on. As long as you take me someplace where the meat isn’t smothered by a half-inch of breading. And the dessert is guaranteed to instantly add five inches to my butt.”

  He chuckled. “I think that can be arranged. You want me to pick you up at the Coyote house?”

  “No, I’ll have to go back to the office afterward anyway, so why don’t you just pick me up at home? Around six?”

  “Six it is,” he said, hanging up. Feeling smug.

  Belly got up in his face again, glaring. If it’s not toooo much trouble, can we get back to what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted?

  “You don’t understand, cat,” Eli said as she settled herself in his lap, giving him the goony face as she started kneading his thigh. “I just scored a Saturday night date with Tess Montoya.”

  Belly gave him a Big whoop for you look and resumed her kneading.

  Chapter Eleven

  Maybe the cat wasn’t so far off, after all, Eli mused irritably, sipping his after-dinner coffee across from Tess in the upscale Santa Fe restaurant and listening to her joke with the young server as the dude removed her practically licked-clean dessert plate. Because whatever gains he’d thought they’d made in regards to her being open with him seemed to have disappeared faster than her piece of Mississippi mud pie.

  Not that he didn’t understand how her experiences had bred a need to stay positive no matter what—especially for her kids’ sakes. And he was reasonably sure she’d genuinely enjoyed herself this evening, if her reaction to the meal had been any indication. Man, the way she closed her eyes when she put that first bite of steak in her mouth? He half thought she was gonna lose it right there. Or he was, a memory that made him grin, despite his frustration. But—

  “What?” Tess said, setting her coffee cup back in the saucer, and Eli caught that damn sense of failure lurking behind her own smile, the one he’d finally begun to realize was always there to some degree, even when there was no cause. The one that put paid to this, this act that everything was fine when he knew damn good and well it wasn’t.

  And nobody said this was gonna be easy, brainiac.

  “Just random thoughts passing through,” he said, reminding himself he’d known going in what he was up against. Still, sheer orneriness made him ask, “You feeling better?”

  Pressing her napkin to one corner of her mouth, Tess looked at him, years of self-preservation clouding the truth in her eyes. “About?”

  “Take your pick. Enrique showing up with whatshername to pick up the kids, the open house being a bust.”

  Her mouth twisted. “I thought the whole purpose of this dinner was to make me forget all that.”

  “Big difference between easing the pain and pretending it’s not there. Took me years to figure that out. Maybe because I wasted so much time fooling myself about who I was, what I wanted…” Eli lowered his eyes to his cup, then lifted them again. “I have a real low tolerance for fakes.”

  Not surprisingly, she bristled. “You think I’m a fake?”

  “Obviously not or we wouldn’t be here. And nobody understands better’n me why there’s stuff that might be difficult for you to talk about. Why you feel you gotta put on the happy face for most people. But I’m not most people. I hope anyway. Tess…” He reached across the table to take her hand. “The only thing I want from you is honesty,” he said, adding, after a short pause, “However that plays out.”

  Tess looked at him for another long moment, then smiled. “Okay, fine. I’m really, really bummed that not a single soul showed up for the open house.”

  “That’s better,” Eli said, leaning back. “And?”

  “And I wanted to rip out whatshername’s hair.”

  Eli picked up the salt shaker, tapping the bottom against the tablecloth. Maybe that was more information than he needed. “You’re really that jealous?”

  “Jealous? No! Just…pissed. That Enrique…” She blew out a breath. “That he can break all the rules, walk away and start all over again.” Her mouth flattened, barely holding in the “Sorry” Eli knew was just behind her half-eaten-off lipstick.

  “Tess.” She lifted her eyes. “It’s okay to be mad. About that, about the house, all of it. Being justifiably upset when things go wrong isn’t the same thing as being negative on general principles. You don’t have to pretend you’re happy to keep your friends, okay?”

  After a long moment, she nodded. “Okay.”

  “Although nobody can say the house wasn’t a knockout,” Eli said, steering the conversation into safer waters. “You never did tell me how you wrangled Aidan into lettin’ you borrow some of his paintings. And the rugs.”

  “Oh,” she said, relaxing some, “he’d thought the gallery in New York wanted twenty, but turns out—because some of them are so big—they only had room for sixteen. So he asked if I’d like to borrow the extras. Same with the rugs. He and June used to collect them, so he had way more than he and Winnie can actually use. I told Aidan if the place sells—”

  “When it sells.”

  She rolled her eyes. “—I’ll have to split the commission with him. It really did suck today,” she added, sighing. “I didn’t necessarily expect an offer right away, but not even the local lookie-loos came by. What’s up with that?”

  “You said yourself the Saturday after Thanksgiving wasn’t a good time. So you try again.”

  “Oh, like people are going to be less occupied the closer it gets to Christmas? As Suze so gleefully pointed out.” Then she smiled. “You’re right, this does f
eel good. Just stop me if I get too obnoxious, ’kay?”

  “Deal,” Eli said, lifting his cup in salute. “What is Suze’s problem anyway? Doesn’t she get a split of the commission from your sales?”

  “The office does, not her. I work with her, not for her. She’s just…” She sighed. “Strange.”

  Eli chuckled. “Tell me about it.”

  “She, um, tells me you two went out?”

  Took a supreme effort not to let a smile slip at Tess’s obvious discomfort with that idea, but Eli managed. “One date,” he said, shrugging. “Ages ago. Although…” He smiled again, remembering. And, okay, deliberately provoking. “She hit on me up at the Lone Star a few weeks ago.”

  Tess’s eyes darted to his. “And…?”

  “And nothing. I don’t find desperation attractive.”

  The instant the words left his mouth he realized his mistake, but not fast enough to head off Tess’s “Oh, God—I must’ve really repulsed you that night.”

  “That was different.”

  “How?”

  “Because it was you.”

  He saw her breath catch, felt her gaze melt into his as, in true chick-flick fashion, everything and everybody else seemed to melt around them—

  “Can I get you folks some more coffee?”

  “No, I think we’re good,” Eli said with a too-bright smile for the server as he reached for his wallet and Tess once again said how wonderful the meal had been. Eli noticed the young man’s blush and almost laughed.

  “We can split that, you know,” she said after he disappeared, grabbing her purse.

  “Over my dead body. I’m not a complete throwback. I do know how to take a gal on a date.”

  “Let me get the tip, at least—”

  “Tess, honey…” Half smiling, he placed his credit card atop the bill. The waiter almost instantly whisked it away. “Would you please let somebody else take care of you for once?”

  He saw her tear up. “I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” he said, waggling his brows.

  To his immense relief, she laughed.

  A tiny thrill shot through Tess when Eli closed his strong, warm hand around hers, leading her across the restaurant’s parking lot in the stunningly cold Santa Fe night. For a moment she warped back to a time when life was still fresh enough to slough off reality, to still believe in things like trust and safety and peace and hope. To believe in possibilities.