Harrison watched her. The urge to fix what was wrong was almost overwhelming, but he knew he couldn’t, that it wasn’t possible. He had strong feelings for her, ones that were growing stronger all the time, and he wanted to be her sounding board. That was what she needed most. The question was how to get her to keep sounding. “What will you do when she keeps contacting you?” He already knew the question wasn’t if but when.
Rosemary’s jaw clenched and she stabbed at the salad as if it were her worst enemy. “I’ll get a restraining order. And maybe I’ll take Cleo to Italy after September first. She’d like it there. It’s perfect, and we could use assumed names so she can’t find us and we’ll spend the rest of our lives relaxing on the beach of the Mediterranean and drinking those fruity drinks with the umbrellas.” She shoveled the salad into her mouth while she spoke, moving automatically when she was so upset.
His heart sank a little as he realized she didn’t see him there beside her on that beach, but he wasn’t going to be that easy to dismiss him. “Sounds like a plan. You think your beach might have room for one more?”
Her lips twitched a little. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be happy to have Jonquil visit anytime.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes.
“That was just mean.” Harrison grabbed a fry from the plate and held it out to her. She eyed it warily. “Go on,” he said. “It won’t bite you. It’s only one fry.”
She bit her lip, then took it, closing her eyes as an expression of bliss covered her face while she ate it. “I haven’t had fried food for so long. I love these things.”
“Have another.” He nudged the plate closer to her.
“No. One’s my limit. Really, I can’t eat them or I’ll blow up like a blimp.”
He slid his eyes over what he could see of her too-thin figure. “Give me a break, you will not. You’re gorgeous, and even more so when you don’t look half-starved.” But he didn’t push her any further. She’d eaten most of her salad, including all of the chicken. And she’d talked, though he hadn’t been sure he would be able to get her to spill. “You need the energy to deal with what’s going on.”
She leaned back in her seat and looked at him, searching his face. “Why do I do that?”
“Say mean things about yourself and have an unrealistic body image? I have no idea.” But he really wanted to understand.
“No,” her voice was void of amusement. “Why do I talk to you about stuff like that? Why can’t I seem to help myself? Lately it’s like you set some food under my nose and I start talking.”
The thought pleased him. “I should feed you more often. In fact, you and Cleo should come over for dinner at my place. Say, tomorrow night.” He’d spent time with them almost every night since their date, but it wasn’t enough. And he wanted to see her in his space, see how she acted when it wasn’t her territory. See how he felt about it.
Rosemary crossed her arms over her chest, but the gesture was oddly self-protective rather than defiant. “Why don’t you give me honest answers?”
He shrugged. “Why do you ask stupid questions I can’t answer? Or questions I can answer, but which you don’t actually want the answer to?”
“If I didn’t want the answer, I wouldn’t ask,” she insisted.
He wasn’t sure if that was true, but decided to take the risk. “Okay, then. You talk to me because it’s me. I’m the one for you and somewhere deep inside, you know it. You’re safe with me because I won’t judge you for being angry with your mom and dad or any of the crazy things you’ve done. You know I’ll love you no matter what, so I’m safe and you can get it all off of your chest.” There, he’d said it, and it didn’t make his insides twist up the way he’d expected. It was actually a relief to say it aloud, even if it meant risking her denials.
She started to protest and he pressed a finger to her lips. “I told you that you didn’t want the answers. If you don’t like it, don’t ask.” He hesitated for half a second, then pushed just one inch further. “I love you, Rosemary. I’m in love with you and nothing you do or say is going to change that. Freak out if you want, but it won’t scare me away.” He leaned back and finished off his fries while she sputtered—it was nice to see her off balance for once.
“You’re just... nuts... crazy. No way you could love me this soon. Forget it.” She stood from the table and stalked off.
He decided challenging her when she was trying to process his words would be asking for trouble, but he couldn’t just let her walk away without saying anything. “Thanks for lunch. What do you think about dinner tomorrow? Want me to pick you up, say around six?”
She turned to him in disbelief when she reached the door. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“You have to eat.” Making sure Rosemary didn’t starve herself would be a nice bonus. “Come on over. It’ll be fun.”
Her lips pressed together and he wished for a kiss goodbye, but figured that wasn’t going to happen now. She nodded. “Six. Don’t be late.”
He grinned when the door slowly shushed closed behind her.
Rosemary told herself that it was only fair for her to play host to Cleo and Hannah sometimes. Cleo had been to Etta’s to play with Hannah four or five times already, so though she had a pile of work to do, Rosemary agreed when Cleo asked for her friend to hang out, and she didn’t argue when Hannah pulled out a game she’d brought along with her.
“Beat the Parents, huh? What’s that all about?” Rosemary asked.
“We play against you,” Cleo said. “Since you’re the only parent, you can call one of the sisters if you can’t answer the question, I guess. But if we beat you at the game we get to make cookies.”
“Oh yeah?” Rosemary was fine with making cookies regardless of who won, but decided to play along. “What do I get if I win?”
Cleo’s face scrunched up a little and she whispered to Hannah, who nodded. “If you win, we’ll actually do the dishes after we bake the cookies.”
Rosemary laughed. “It’s a deal. Loser does the dishes. Set it up and I’ll put my stuff away.” She hibernated her computer and stashed it and the pages back in the carrying case—not entirely easy when one arm was still in a sling, due to the sprained shoulder—then took them to her room. When she returned, the girls had everything set out and ready to go. “Tell me how this works.”
The girls explained the rules to her, though Rosemary had the funny feeling they were tweaking them to favor themselves. They started the first round and the girls answered the question of who was the first man to walk on the moon—she was impressed.
Then Rosemary’s came up.
“Where was Daniel Radcliffe when they found him to play Harry Potter?” Hannah read.
Who? Apparently it must be the kid in the movie—or one of the kids in the movie, but how was she supposed to know that? “Um, how many times can I call one of the sisters for answers?” Rosemary asked.
The girls whispered again, though neither was very good at using quiet voices so she could hear every word. “Five,” Cleo announced a moment later.
If all of the questions were like that, Rosemary had the sneaking suspicion she was doomed. She considered which of her sisters was most likely to know the answer and dialed Jonquil’s cell phone. “Hey, I’m playing a game with Cleo and Hannah. My question is what, what’s his name again?” she asked.
“Daniel Radcliffe.” Hannah answered and the girls giggled together.
“Right, Daniel Radcliffe. What was he doing when they found him to play in Harry Potter.”
Jonquil laughed. “Not to play in Harry Potter, you dork. He’s the lead. You really need to spend a little less time in the kitchen and more at the movies.”
“Do you know the answer or not?” Rosemary asked, not amused by her sister’s teasing.
“Nope. Let’s see, how about if you guess that he was in grocery store, or playing video games. I could swear I heard of some child actor being discovered at an arcade, but I don’t know who it was.”
“Thanks.”
“Welcome, and hey, good luck with that. I hope you didn’t bet them anything valuable. It sounds like those girls are going to take you to the cleaners.”
“Yeah, I kinda got that feeling already.” Rosemary shot the girls a look of censure, which only made them giggle again.
Jonquil’s laugh echoed through the phone before she hung up.
“So? What’s the answer?” Cleo asked. She had a cocky little grin that reminded Rosemary of herself at that age and she no longer wondered why so many people wanted to beat her up when she wore it.
“He was playing in the arcade.”
“Nope. He was at a theater. Our turn!” Cleo sang and pushed the card holder to Rosemary.
The girls didn’t know the sixteenth president of the United States was Abe Lincoln, but they declared that if they didn’t know it, it must be too hard.
Amused, Rosemary let it go. “How would I know what Elmo’s favorite food is?” she asked when that question came up. “I never had a kid who watched Sesame Street.”
“Don’t you remember from when you were a kid?” Hannah asked, all innocence.
“No, Elmo didn’t come around until I was grown up,” Rosemary said. “Ask me what Cookie Monster or Oscar the Grouch love best and I can help you out, but Elmo is a mystery to me.”
“Just guess,” Cleo said.
“It’s too hard,” Rosemary put on her biggest whiner voice. “It must not be a fair question if I don’t know it.”
“You’re supposed to know everything, ‘cause you’re an adult.” Cleo wasn’t giving an inch. “Come on, just guess.”
“Fine.” Rosemary racked her brain and decided to go with Cleo’s favorite food. “Pizza?”
“Yes! How did you know?” Hannah asked, wide-eyed.
“Who doesn’t love pizza?” Rosemary was relieved she was going to have at least one move in this game.
It ended up being almost the only move she got before the girls won. Patently unfair, but Rosemary decided it was fun anyway, and started setting out ingredients for cookie dough.
“We need a hut to sit in while we eat these,” Hannah said as she cracked an egg.
“Yeah. You should see her grandma’s barn, Rosemary, it’s so cool,” Cleo enthused. “They set up a corner just for the kids to play in and it has little furniture and everything. We play in it all of the time.”
“In this weather? It’s cold out there.” Just the walk from work to the car made Rosemary cold—but Cleo didn’t seem to mind cold the way she did, which made Rosemary wonder if she had become a wimp as she became an adult.
“It’s not that cold. The horses don’t mind it, right?” Cleo grinned as she added a teaspoon of salt.
“How about if we make a hut out of the furniture downstairs and some blankets instead?” Rosemary suggested. It would probably irritate Jonquil and Delphi if they had to crawl through the blankets to get to their rooms if it wasn’t down when they got home, but the furniture was easier to move down there than the sofas in the great room were and she wasn’t much use with her injured shoulder.
The girls were quick to agree and as soon as the first tray of cookies was in the oven, they ran downstairs to start setting up their hut.
Rosemary smiled despite the fact that they’d already tired her out. Who knew parenting could be so exhausting? Or so fun.
“How come you live so far away?” Cleo asked as they drove to Harrison’s the next evening.
Rosemary glanced at Cleo, who sat in Harrison’s back seat. “It’s not that far.”
“But Vince and Cami are only a few blocks, and Sage and Joel are building next door to the house,” Cleo said. “So how come you’re across town, Harrison?”
“There weren’t that many options,” he said. “I didn’t buy it. George leased it for me for the year. He said if I decide to stay, I could buy something else.”
Rosemary turned to Harrison, curious, though it hadn’t occurred to her to ask. “Are you planning to stay longer than the rest of us?” She reconsidered. “Then again, I don’t really see Cami going anywhere anytime soon. Or Lana. They’re both pretty entrenched.” Lana had already accepted the job before she heard the terms of the will and said from the first that she intended to ride the current for as long as it lasted. Cami married a local, and Vince owned businesses in town, so he wasn’t likely to go anywhere.
“I have the feeling most of you will be pretty entrenched by the time the year is up.” Harrison took a quick glance, but his expression was hard to read.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His knowing tone said there was more to it, but he shrugged instead of explaining.
“Have you been talking to Sage? Is she reading the stars about it or something?” Rosemary had to know now that the topic had come up.
He sighed. “You never give up. Yes, Sage thinks you’re all going to stay, at least for a while longer.”
“And you? Are you going to stay?” Rosemary suddenly wanted very much to know.
His lips twitched. “I guess that depends.”
“On what?” Cleo asked.
“On whether or not Sage is right.”
“I thought you said she was always right,” Cleo said.
“Yes, she is.” He pulled the car into a curved driveway. “Here we are.”
Rosemary let go of the questions about what exactly Sage had said—there would be time to go over that again later. She had never seen Harrison’s house before, so she took a long look. It was covered in a stone facade, which gave it a cottage-y look, despite the fact that it was really too big to be a cottage. The forest encroached almost to the front porch with just a small clearing in the front for grass or flowers.
“It’s hard to imagine what it’ll look like in the summer—the snow kinda gets in the way,” Rosemary said, but she liked it. It felt homey and comfortable.
“Yeah. Sage said it looks like a cottage in the woods—which it is, so it makes sense. She was talking about planting a bunch of wildflowers this spring.” He pushed out and came around to open their doors.
“It’s charming.” Rosemary couldn’t help but approve. It didn’t have the sweeping grace and bank of windows that their father had built for his daughters, or the middle-class boxiness of her neighborhood back home. It was a perfect mix of the two, tucked into the forest like it belonged there.
“Yes. And wait until you see the inside.” He led them up the front walk, onto the log front porch, and pushed open the door. “The whole place has hardwood floors and a few of the rooms have log walls. I have two wood stoves; one in here and one in the master bedroom.”
“I guess they didn’t want to get cold if the power went out,” Rosemary said. The space wasn’t huge, but it was nice, with an open floor plan into the kitchen. She walked over and stared at the tiny space. “How does anyone cook in here? Seriously, it’s smaller than my bathroom.”
“The bathrooms in your house rival the Taj Mahal,” Harrison said.
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“You started it,” Cleo said. “The kitchen is not smaller than your bathroom.”
“She’s right.” Harrison leaned against the cabinet and snaked an arm around Rosemary’s waist, pulling her close.
“Hey, not in front of the kid.” Rosemary put a hand on his chest to push off. His warm, very firm chest.
“I don’t care. And I’m not a kid.” Cleo wandered to the counter and lifted the lid on the crockpot.
Harrison pulled Rosemary a little closer. “She doesn’t care.”
“I do.” Her voice wasn’t steady though. When he didn’t kiss her, Rosemary looked over at her daughter. She had already smelled the meat simmering when she walked in, but the lid coming off poured scent into the room, making her salivate. This was bad. She’d known it would be. Dinner would be like a normal daily calorie intake if she wasn’t careful.
Cleo took two more steps and lifted a second lid. “What’s this?”
“Dump cake. It’s a fru
it cobbler. Put that back on. It needs more time and when you open the lid it lets out all the heat.” Harrison spoke lightly, not upsetting Cleo, despite the fact that she had become very jumpy lately.
“Oh. It smells yummy. Do you have ice cream to put on top?” she asked hopefully.
“Of course.” Harrison buried his face in Rosemary’s neck and whispered, “You smell really good too.” His lips brushed her neck, making her shiver, then he released her. “You ladies ready to eat? We can set the table.”
Cleo kept up a lively chatter about a kid who got sick at school and how gross it was, though her eyes were filled with excitement. They all worked together to set out the dishes. Rosemary wouldn’t let herself think about the way they worked in sync, how Harrison anticipated them, pointing out the right cupboards, testing the food, filling the water pitcher. It felt good, right—the three of them working together, preparing for dinner, to sit for a meal in his home. And the place was surprisingly homey considering he was a bachelor.
“Who decorated for you?” Rosemary asked. “I’m not buying that you did all of this.”
“Most of the furniture came with the house,” Harrison admitted. “Sage came in and dressed the place up a little more when I moved in, rearranged a few things to comply with Feng Shui. She said I shouldn’t be staying in a place that was less homey than a hotel.”
“She would be right. It’s nice.”
“Thanks. I’m comfortable here. Especially settling on the sofa in front of the fire at night with a nice cup of chamomile tea. It’s cozy.” Their gazes met and the promises in his eyes made her smile.
She could imagine it—with both of them on the sofa, of course. “Sounds cozy.”
“Ugh. You two are so stupid,” Cleo said. “If you want to kiss her, just do it. Don’t stand there and make googly eyes at each other.” Cleo was arranging the silverware, sending them covert glances.
Family Matters (DiCarlo Brides book 4) (The DiCarlo Brides) Page 15