Her Last Best Fling

by Candace Havens

  “Oh, no, honey. I’ll feel better if you’re here. I’m going to sit around and gossip with her. And I’ll make sure her gardens are ready for the winter. You know how much I love doing that stuff. She has only the one television, so I imagine we’ll sit around watching her programs with the sound blaring.”

  There was that. When he’d stopped by on his way up to Tranquil Waters, he spent the day with this grandmother. She was his mom’s stepmother. Her mom had died when she was only three, and Momma D had become the only mother she really knew.

  She was nearly deaf, but she didn’t miss much. When he visited her, she was in her parlor, which was what she called the living room, watching her afternoon soaps at an earsplitting octave.

  But she’d taken one look at him and shaken her head. “Boy, you need a hug.” Then she’d held out her arms. Damn if she wasn’t right. He’d ended up spending the night there because he loved being in her presence. She was a positive light, and he needed that in his life.

  “Your brother will be by in an hour. I asked him to bring you some dinner because I didn’t have time to cook.”

  “Mom, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it a really long time.”

  “Don’t take a tone with me, son. Besides, I want you to grill your brother. Mona who works as a teller at the bank says she could have sworn she saw your brother in the parking lot, in his truck, with a woman in there. She had red hair. I never thought your brother would go for a redhead.”

  He snorted. In another five minutes, she’d have J.T. married off with five carrot-orange-haired kids.

  “I’ll take your bag to the car. Is there anything else you need?”

  She scrunched up her face, and glanced around the kitchen. “No— Oh, if you don’t mind, maybe you could take the sack of seeds on the workbench and put it in the car. And there are two rosebushes by the garage I’m going to take to Momma. They are heirloom, and you know how much she loves them.”

  It was a bit late in the fall to be planting, but it was San Antonio so the weather stayed pretty warm throughout the year.

  Fifteen minutes after she left, his brother rolled up in the driveway in his truck. He didn’t bother knocking, just walked through the back door like everyone else in town did. His mom’s house was known as a gathering place.

  “Stupid jarhead can’t even fix a meal on his own.” J.T. put a sack from the diner on the kitchen counter. Except for the paint color on the walls, which was a warm yellow, not much had changed in the light-filled kitchen since he was a kid. There were good memories in that kitchen of holiday baking, birthdays and his dad cooking dinner while encouraging Blake and J.T. with their homework. His mom was at the feed store a lot in those early years, so the men in the family had to learn to do for themselves, which wasn’t a bad thing.

  “Shut it, nerd. Did you bring me a chocolate donut this time?”

  The nerd stuck two chocolate donuts on a plate.

  “Why didn’t you tell Mom you had already planned to come over and watch the game?” The first Mavericks’ basketball game of the season started at seven.

  “Brownie points, dude. It made me look good to bring dinner to the poor, broken jarhead.”

  “I’ll show you broken if you don’t stop calling me jarhead. Come on, nerd, I set up the TV trays in the family room. And thank you again for buying Mom that fifty-six-inch flat screen for Christmas last year. It’s the best gift you’ve ever given her.”

  They chuckled at that.

  “You could have come out to my place,” his brother said.

  “Not if I want to drink this,” he raised one of the two beers he was holding in his hands. Earlier that day he’d visited the local doc for a checkup. He was down to half a pain pill a day. His leg continued to hurt like hell, but it only reminded him that there was still work to do on his body. The doc had given him permission to have one beer, maybe two, a day.

  “I have a perfectly fine couch you could sleep on.”

  He shrugged. Time to have a little fun.

  “So Mom says you’re getting engaged to some redheaded chick. Who is she?”

  J.T.’s beer spewed from his mouth onto his burger. “What the—?”

  “Some lady at the bank saw you. Therefore, it must be true.” Damn, he’d missed giving J.T. a hard time. The surprise on his brother’s face was priceless.

  He laughed so hard his gut hurt.

  “Sometimes I hate this town,” his brother growled. “She’s not some chick. Her name is Anne Marie and she’s a colleague. We were not on a date. We’d been at a conference in Houston. The rest is none of your business.”

  Blake held up his hands in surrender. “Hmm. I think he doth protest too much.”

  “Just watch the game, jarhead.”

  For the next two hours they did. Screaming at the refs, who called fouls on everything. It was close but the Mavs won.

  They clinked beer bottles.

  Blake was relaxed, truly so. He almost felt like a normal human being. He’d been on for so long, he forgot what it was like to let go. Even in the hospital it had been one operation after another and then intense physical therapy.

  He took a long breath.

  The psychiatrist said he needed time. He understood now. Bit by bit it was coming back to him, how to live a life where he wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder or listening for changes in the wind. He’d never stop being a marine, but he could learn to be calm and enjoy things again. Maybe even sleep more than three hours at a time.

  His mind wandered through his conversation with Macy. Could he do what she asked? It might dredge up a lot of issues he didn’t want to think about. Then again, sometimes it helped to talk about what happened.

  He sipped his second beer.

  Then there was his other problem. The one that had kept him awake and unsettled ever since he’d seen her beautiful face in the pouring rain. Never in his life had he felt such a pull toward another person.

  It was as if she had an invisible rope tied directly to his heart. He’d met her a couple of days ago, and he—what?

  He’d almost lost his temper earlier, and she hadn’t backed away one bit. She’d glanced at him, noticed his clenched hands and then looked him straight in the eye.

  And she was right. They did have a great deal in common. What would it hurt to date? See her a few times, and get her out of his system. If he wrote the story she asked for, she couldn’t use work as an excuse. He wouldn’t take any payment for the accounting he’d do, or for writing the article.

  So technically she wouldn’t be his boss. She’d have to edit the piece, which might give her an out. But he’d find a way around that.

  I know what I have to do.

  8

  THE SUN DIPPED below the lake and the wind gusted. Standing on the back deck of her uncle’s place, Macy threw the ball for Harley. The dog loved to run, a little. It wasn’t long before Harley kept the ball in her mouth and walked past Macy into the house where she dropped it into her basket of toys.

  Chuckling, Macy shut the door and locked it. Using the remote, she turned on the fireplace, and padded to the kitchen to see if her marinara was ready. She’d made the sauce in the slow cooker earlier in the day. Her housekeeper had the next two weeks off while she cared for her ailing grandson, who had chicken pox. From what Macy could discern, the itchy disease had made the rounds of most of the elementary school and a number of day cares. They’d done a small feature about how to care for children and adults with the disease.

  Macy didn’t mind being on her own. If she had a choice, she’d let the housekeeper go. But she didn’t. After setting a pot of water on the stove to boil, she picked up her cell phone to make sure she hadn’t missed a call.

  His call.

  Blake had left a message a
t the office that he was busy at the feed store. He said he’d let her know when he could come by to do the accounting. It was almost five-thirty and he hadn’t contacted her.

  He was either really busy, or he might have forgotten.

  Why was she disappointed? She’d heard through the Tranquil Waters grapevine that his mother was out of town for some reason.

  “Cassidy Lee said she happened to spot Blake out behind the store, loading lumber into a truck.” Macy had eavesdropped on the waitress’s conversation as she lingered by the register at the café to pay for her lunch. The waitress in question had the rapt attention of a table full of women. “He had his shirt off, and she said it took everything she had not to walk up to him and start licking his abs. It’s not a six, it’s an eight-pack, ladies. And he has those sexy cut-ins on his hip. I asked her about the scars from his injuries, and she said, ‘What scars? I was too distracted by those muscles.’”

  The table of women whooped.

  “Imagine how hot he must have been to take his shirt off when it’s so chilly outside.” One of the women fanned her face. “I think I might have to stop by the feed store to pick up some—” she paused for a few seconds “—seeds.”

  The other women tittered and joked.

  Blake was a hot commodity in this town. Most of the men his age and a little older were for one reason or another not available. She’d learned that bit of news from Amanda, who said she went to Austin if she wanted to dance because then she didn’t have to worry about some guy’s wife giving her a hard time the next day.

  While Macy waited for the water to boil, she cleaned up the mess Harley had made around her food bowl. The dog had no manners when it came to drinking and eating. She was well behaved otherwise, so Macy had no real complaints.

  Once the noodles were ready, she put her meal together but skipped the garlic bread since her favorite jeans were a little tight. She should probably up her visits to the pool. She hated dieting and her knee still bothered her, so running was out.

  Taking a bite of spaghetti, she closed her eyes and moaned about the delicious flavors. The sauce recipe had come from a chef she’d met when she was in Italy, covering the launch of a new political party.

  Her cell vibrated on the counter.

  Thinking it was Blake, she answered it.

  “It’s about time,” Garrison, her ex, said. The man’s voice was as smooth as silk. But the instant she heard it, she cringed.

  “Don’t hang up. I can hear you breathing. Look, something’s coming down the pike and I wanted to give you a—”

  “I’ll make it simple for you. No. Whatever it is, whatever you think you need to tell me, my answer is no. Don’t ever call me again.”

  She pushed the off button.

  The nerve of the man.

  Her phone buzzed again. She thought about ignoring it, but she knew he’d just keep calling.

  “If I have to change my number to avoid you phoning me I will. I have no interest in anything you have to say. So take whatever is coming down the pike and toss it somewhere, away from me.”

  There was a long pause. Finally, she’d gotten through to him.

  “Um, your receptionist gave me this number to call,” Blake’s whiskey-coated voice said.

  Ahhh!

  “Blake, I’m so, so sorry. I— The call before you— Uh, never mind. Yes, of course I wanted you to call.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The call. Is someone harassing you?” His voice was measured, but she heard that protective side of him.

  “Yes, but it isn’t anything I can’t handle. It’s my former boyfriend. I really am sorry about that. I should have checked my caller ID.”

  “Do you still want me to look at your books?”

  “Yes, but I’m at home. Do you mind coming here, or I can bring them to your house. I’ve got the ledgers. Everything else is on my laptop. My uncle kept two sets.”

  “Let me get something to eat, and I’ll be over.”

  “I made spaghetti,” she said quickly. “It’s my special sauce. That is if you like spaghetti, if you don’t—”

  “That sounds great. But I have to warn you, I’m pretty tired. I may not be able to go over everything tonight.”

  He’d worked hard all day at the feed store and he was still recovering from his injuries. What was she thinking? “I’m being selfish, Blake. You’re so strong that sometimes I forget—”

  “I’m fine.” The steel in his voice made her smile. Never, ever talk about a marine’s stamina. She should have known better.

  Before she stuck her foot in any deeper, she opted for telling him, “I’ll have your food ready when you get here.”

  “I’m about five minutes out. See you then.”

  Five minutes? She glanced at herself in the window. Sloppy sweats, mussed hair, her reading glasses on top of her head.

  As she ran for the bedroom she gathered her hair into a messy knot on top of her head.

  The washer dinged. All of her jeans were wet. She had a choice, flannel pajama bottoms with Dalmatians on them, or the sweats. She went for the dog pants. Then she tried to find a top that kind of matched. She found a black cotton cami that was a little tight, but it would do.

  Harley watched her go back and forth as if she were playing both sides in a tennis match.

  “I know. But there’s no reason I can’t look half-decent. It’s not like I threw on a sexy cocktail dress.”

  She wiped the day’s mascara off the under part of her eyes and swiped gloss across her lips.

  Harley woofed. The truck could be heard pulling into the long drive.

  Spritzing perfume, she dashed through it so he wouldn’t know she’d only just put it on.

  Running to the kitchen she filled a large bowl with noodles and sauce, and set it next to hers. When he rang the bell, she inhaled a deep breath and released it.

  Before she reached the door to let Blake in, Harley was there with the handle in her mouth. The door opened about two inches.

  “Macy,” Blake called.

  She cackled. “Harley opened the door, come on in.”

  He praised the dog every which way and followed Macy to the kitchen.

  “Don’t you dare tell her how smart she is,” she said, laughing. “You could have been a serial killer. I’m going to get a bolt installed higher up, I guess. Or one of those locks that slide down from the top.”

  He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure she knows how smart she is.”

  She and Blake ate and chatted about his mom going to take care of his grandmother, and how the store was busier than ever this time of year because it carried hardware, seeds and gardening equipment, holiday decorating items, as well as the stuff for livestock and pets.

  “Mom had this great idea to start a pumpkin patch in one of the outer buildings near the store. Normally the pumpkins would be outside, but with all the rain, she was worried about mold. I’ll be happy when Halloween is over this weekend so we can get that building clean. We have to check every pumpkin every day to make sure they’re okay.”

  They cleared the dishes, which she put in the dishwasher while he found containers and put the food in the refrigerator. He was a man used to working in a kitchen, and she liked that about him.

  “If you’re sure you aren’t too tired, I’ve got the laptop set up in the family room. There’s a table in there that I use as a desk so I can monitor you-know-who’s television viewing habits.”

  “Now that I’ve eaten, I feel more awake,” he said. “Let me take a look.”

  She sat on the couch while he sat at the table and wrote things down as he went through the computer files. Every few minutes she’d steal a glance at his profile. But she had to stop before her body overheat
ed. The man made her feel crazy good.

  Would it be such a bad thing to scratch the itch? He hadn’t said he’d do the story, nevertheless she’d promised him no one else would get the assignment. That took the ethical problem out of the equation.

  She had no desire for anything long-term. So far as they were discreet and no one in town would know. They could use his accounting for the paper as a cover. Friends with benefits. She’d never had one of those before.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  She blinked and realized he was staring at her.

  “Uh. You’re very handsome.”

  That sly grin spread across his face. “Huh. Okay.”

  He turned back to the computer, but continued to grin.

  He knew.

  “You do bad, bad things to me, Mr. Marine.”

  The grin grew bigger.

  “I haven’t touched you,” he said, still facing the screen.

  “Oh, but you don’t even have to,” she whispered. Maybe she had one too many glasses of wine with dinner. The room seemed very warm.

  That made him look at her.

  “Ms. Reynolds, are you coming on to me?”

  “Yes, sir. I believe I am. What are you going to do about it?”

  He sat there for a few seconds, his dark brown eyes catching her gaze as if he were searching for answers.

  “What about your ethical dilemma?”

  “I’m not writing the story, so it’s no longer a problem. I wouldn’t be dating the subject of one of my stories. You’d just be another guy.”

  “So if I ask you on a date, you’d say yes?”

  She nodded. “With a few conditions.”

  He leaned an elbow on the table, but didn’t take his eyes off her. “I’m not surprised.”

  “They’re nothing wild. First, we keep it simple. You mentioned that you need simple right now and so do I. So we set some ground rules, and everyone is happy.”

  “And those would be?”

  “We are discreet and exclusive.”

  He frowned. “Why discreet? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”