“Stop,” she ordered on a laugh. “You look like you’ve got fleas.”
“Okay, then maybe it’ll drive the boring people away from us. Either way, you’re safe.” Zane slicked both hands down that gleaming softness that framed her face. “I promise I’ll always keep you safe.”
Casey’s eyes fluttered shut. Just for a moment, but long enough to worry he’d somehow said the wrong thing again. Then she blinked them open and smiled at him. Not a polite smile, but the full-on, open and happy expression he’d already gotten used to seeing. “I’d love to be your date.”
Guess that meant they were back on even footing. “Great. It’s next Wednesday. Not that I want to wait until then to see you.” Very aware of her friends hanging on his every word, Zane lowered his voice. Leaned in to murmur in her ear. “I can barely wait until tonight to see you. Say you’ll have dinner with me.”
“Again?”
He nibbled his way down her neck. Delighted in the shiver that ran through her entire body. “Definitely.”
“Won’t you get bored, seeing me every night?”
“I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”
“I won’t be bored. In fact, I want to keep an eye on you.”
Exactly what he had in mind. Especially getting his eyes on much, much more of her.
Chapter Six
Casey padded out of her old bedroom in bare feet and yellow pjs printed with lime slices. Mitzi, Dawn’s adorable dachshund, snuffled close at her heels. “You know, sitting around in pajamas isn’t nearly as special now as when I was a kid.” She stopped in front of her stepmom and plucked at the thin shorts. “Why do you still make me change into jammies on Movie Night?”
Dawn tightened the sash on her peach kimono. Tucked a few wisps of her blond bob behind her ears and leveled that look all mothers had, regardless of if they shared DNA with their kids or not. “You want the honest-to-God truth?”
That sounded ominous. How much stark truth needed to be thrown down about pajamas? “Um, I think so?”
“When you were growing up, I did it for you. To be silly and break up our routine. But now, I enforce the pj rule for my benefit.”
Weird. Casey dropped into her usual corner of the faded plaid couch and kicked her feet up onto the coffee table. “It’s not like you suffer through stilettos and power suits every day. You run Cosgroves in jeans. Talk about comfortable.”
Laughter pealed through the small house. “The benefit isn’t my getting comfy. It’s not having to look at you in your work clothes, my beautiful girl.”
Mixed signals in that last sentence. But the mild insult came through loud and clear. Jerking upright, Casey asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Honey, you wear that same ugly uniform every day. Every single day. I see you for breakfast at least three times a week. You pop in a couple more times on top of that. And it’s always that same, mud-green set of shorts and the most unflatteringly cut shirt in the world. I’m proud of you. Proud that you followed your heart and became a ranger.” She pointed at the fireplace, the sleeves of her kimono fluttering at her knees. “But if I could pour kerosene on that outfit right now and then stomp all over the ashes, I would.”
“Wow. How long have you been saving up for that rant?”
“Just since the day you were hired.” Dawn sank onto the couch. One by one, she pulled off the elastics at the end of Casey’s braids. In a soothing end-of-day routine that hadn’t changed since the day she rescued Casey from the Sunshine Seekers, Dawn slowly fingercombed out the braids.
Casey leaned her head onto her stepmom’s shoulder. She’d never be too old for moments like this. “You know I didn’t choose my career for the fashion.”
“That’s abundantly clear.”
“And I love that we still do Movie Night.”
“Me, too. I’m lucky you don’t blow me off to troll the bars for hot guys.”
“Well, it’s Monday. Not a promising night of the week for good bar hook-ups,” she teased. Then Casey twisted around to look Dawn straight in the eyes. A far paler blue than her own. A color Casey wished she shared, rather than being the spitting image of her long-vanished biological mother.
It hit her that it was a day that ended in Y, and yet she hadn’t smothered Dawn in gratitude yet. Way, way back, Casey had vowed to thank her stepmom every single day. But then life happened. Good days became the norm. Ordinary happiness was, well, ordinary. And days stretched into weeks and became months of just living their lives. Plenty of hugs and laughter, but no specific thanks. Casey didn’t doubt for a second that Dawn knew she loved her. She also didn’t doubt the woman deserved to hear it far more often than her forgetful stepdaughter bothered to say it.
“I’m serious, Dawn. Movie Night means so much to me.”
“Me, too, honey.”
“Let me get it all out.” Because what girls night was complete without an outpouring of emotion? Just a month ago Ella had reduced all of them to blubbering messes over piña coladas when she thanked them for their friendship. Casey had joked that the tears gave a tasty, salty rim to the tropical drinks. Which had sent Ella rushing to the kitchen for pineapple garnishes to wipe them down.
Casey’s heart swelled as she tried to find the words to share the tiniest bit of what she felt. “Movie Night isn’t about the yummy quesadillas. Or the schlocky eighties movies that you force on me. It’s about us wanting to spend time together. Not out of duty, but because we enjoy it. I look at my friends and realize how much I lucked out with you. There’s Ella, with a mom who’s been dead for three years, and Piper, whose mom just snipes at her on the few occasions she bothers to pay Piper any attention at all. And what do I have?” Her throat thickened, almost clogged with the sobfest threatening to break free. “A woman who chose to take care of me. Who chose to raise me, despite all the challenges. Who loves me more than I can ever repay.”
Tears welled in those ice-blue eyes, but didn’t fall. Sniffling, Dawn demanded, “Hold out your arm.” As soon as Casey extended it, Dawn pinched hard right at the elbow crease. “Don’t ever let me hear you mention repaying me again. Every day you’re happy, and you live this wonderful life, that’s all the payment I need.” She pulled the younger woman in for a rib-crushing hug. “You’re my greatest joy, Casey.”
Then the waterworks began. They sniffled together for a few moments. Chick flicks never caused a single tear. Neither did falling off a horse and breaking her leg in two places freshman year. But every single time she tried to share with Dawn a smidgen of her lifelong love and gratitude, they both fell to pieces. Casey figured she’d better lighten things up in an attempt to draw another breath. “As long as I don’t wear my uniform.”
“Exactly.” A snuffling laugh, and then Dawn kissed her on top of the head before releasing her. “I love you, Acacia.”
Casey swiped the backs of her hands across her eyes. “Then don’t call me that goofy name. I’m not a flowering shrub—I’m a person.”
“You think I like signing my name as a synonym for the sunrise every day? You know I’m a night owl. My name’s a great cosmic irony.”
“Or just proof that your parents were morning people.” They both walked back to the kitchen and set up the assembly line of ingredients for the quesadillas.
“Bite your tongue.”
“I’m glad the tradition of Movie Night has stayed mostly the same. However,” Casey pulled the frosty pitcher of margaritas from the fridge, “I’m glad we made one improvement after I turned twenty-one. Alcohol makes the bad movies much more tolerable.”
“Eighties movies aren’t bad. They’re classic.”
It was the same argument they’d had dozens of times. The banter was as much a routine as laying down the mushrooms on the tortillas before the avocado slices. Just like Mitzi trotting laps between
them, always at the ready to catch whatever morsel they let slip to the floor. It was easy. Routine. Like slipping into her comfy pjs. It put in stark relief the contrast to the new part of Casey’s life that definitely wasn’t any of those things.
Zane challenged her. Kept her on her toes. Pushed at her. Took her so far out of her comfort zone she’d need a visa to get back to normal. Dawn might not know it, but Zane was on the agenda as the main topic of conversation for the evening. Figuring out which uncomfortable subtopic surrounding him to broach first was the only holdup.
Casey squirted a fat chunk of lime into each glass and passed one over. “Speaking of not being a morning person, I know you got up early on Friday to let a visitor have the run of Cosgroves.”
“Yes, Professor Buchanan. Isn’t he a sweetie? Not hard on the eyes, either.” She ticked off his good points as she set out a bowl of guacamole shaped like a hat, the deep brim overflowing with chips. “He’s handsome, well-spoken, and more or less has a great new job in the bag. I’ve heard he’s a shoo-in at Hobart. In fact,” Dawn squinted at Casey, as if squeezing Zane into the mental picture right next to her, “you should find a way to meet him. Get to know him a little.”
“When did you turn into a matchmaker?”
“The moment Gray proposed to Ella.”
Wow. That was a pretty darn shameless admission. “You’ve got wedding fever? Suddenly want to obsess over centerpieces and poufy white gowns?” It surprised her. Almost the only decorations in the old farmhouse were decades of family photos lining the walls. The beds were covered with heirloom quilts. Casey knew the furniture hadn’t changed in years. Dawn put in long hours at the store, and liked to bury her nose in cozy mysteries in her free time. Period.
“They look so happy together.” Dawn paused, a loaded chip halfway to her mouth, to brush a kiss over Casey’s forehead. “I want that for you.”
Sure. That made sense. And Casey wanted enough money to suddenly appear in her bank account so that she could spend a month in Australia. “I agree that Ella and Gray are disgustingly adorable together. But you can’t decide you want to marry me off to the first new man that wanders into town.”
“I didn’t. Two long-haul truckers came through last week and I didn’t say a thing.”
Guess she should be grateful for small miracles. And was now braced for Dawn to try and set her up with everyone from the mailman to Mitzi’s vet. “Look, there’s a couple of issues with me hooking up with Zane.”
“Zane?” Dark blond eyebrows arched up. “You’re already on a first name basis with the professor?”
“It’s the twenty-first century. Everyone is on a first name basis with everyone.” Even Father Patrick, the new local Catholic priest, insisted she drop the title and call him by his first name. Casey was pretty sure he was just low on converting his quota of non-believers for the month. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
Dawn scraped her chip through the guacamole and then poked a tomato chunk back on top with her finger. “It means you noticed him enough to get his name.”
“Oh, I got more than that out of him.” With only a fifteen-year age difference between she and Dawn, it was easy to slip from the role of stepdaughter into that of gossipy girlfriend.
Sure enough, Dawn dropped the chip back into the guacamole bowl and leaned forward with a gleam in her eye. “Such as?”
Casey leaned forward, too, elbows on the counter and chin on her fists. “I can’t get to know Zane a little. Because that would be majorly backtracking. We’ve been dating for a week. Kind of went from zero straight to...well, way past sixty. We’re talking pedal to the metal.”
Dawn’s jaw dropped. “You waited this long to tell me?”
“I was saving the big reveal for tonight. Movies, margaritas, and the lowdown on the amazing man I can’t stop thinking about.”
“Ooh, this sounds good.” The older woman lifted her glass in a toast.
“It sounds good because it is. Mostly. He’s great. He’s funny. Smart, but not in a boring way. It’s obvious he spent years collecting degrees, but he never makes me feel stupid.”
“I should hope not.”
“Well, that’s the first issue.” Her fear of the party, in the grand scheme of things, was probably a much smaller issue than Zane’s career field and how Dawn would react once she found out. But right now? It felt a hundred times more dire. “Zane invited me to a party.”
“Casey, you’ve never been a wallflower. What’s the problem?”
Why wasn’t it obvious to Dawn? Because the idea sure struck fear into Casey’s heart the moment Zane brought it up. “His department’s throwing it for him. To show him off to all the other faculty.”
“Do you not know what to wear? I’m sure the department secretary could tell you what’s appropriate. Piper would love nothing more than to drag you around the mall for an afternoon, if you need something new.”
Like an idiot, she’d wasted her day off today by cleaning her house and catching up on the week’s worth of television shows she’d missed by hanging out with Zane every night. Casey’s panic ratcheted impossibly higher. “Crap. I hadn’t even started to worry about a dress. Should it be a dress? Oh geez,” she slammed her glass down so hard the liquid sloshed over the edge, “is this so formal I have to go buy pantyhose?”
Dawn nudged Casey with her hip toward the butcher block-topped island. “Lean on this. I know you get faint at the mere thought of stockings.”
“Very funny.” Casey took a couple of quick gulps of her drink. Which only made matters worse because of the stabbing headache that manifested above her eye from all the ice. “No, I don’t know what to wear. Whatever I choose, I’m sure it’ll be wrong somehow. Just like everything that I’ll say once I’m there.”
Picking up another chip, Dawn asked, “What do you mean?”
“It’ll be all the stuffy faculty chit-chatting away happily about grades and—” Casey paused, having no real clue what the discussion topics might be. All she did know was that they probably wouldn’t interest her. Or be something she knew anything about. “The staff at the college has always been friendly in general. I mean we’re all locals, right? But you know as well as I do that the faculty keeps themselves apart. Like they can’t be bothered to talk to people with anything less than a doctorate.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe so.” Was she overly sensitive about her forestry degree when stacked up against one in chemistry or engineering? You bet. She’d spent four years at college being made fun of just for her choice of major. “But it’s true.”
Dawn dropped her chip, brushed off her hands and shook a finger at Casey. “It’s a broad generalization and you should be ashamed of making it.”
“Why—because you’re such a great defender suddenly of guys with leather elbow patches on their corduroy jackets?” Being a grown up, owning her own house, managing an entire state park? Those things didn’t keep Casey from going all knee-jerk defensive when the accusatory finger of stepmom shame stabbed in her direction.
“No. Because I’m a defender of you. You’re right about the occasional standoffishness of some of the faculty. You’re wrong about not being able to blend in with them, or know what to say. Do you really think you’re just a pair of hiking boots tromping around the forest? Casey, my darling, you’ve got a quick wit, a huge heart, and the ability to spot bullshit a mile away. The only thing you’re lacking is the self-confidence God gave a Twinkie.”
“Don’t hold back.”
“See? There you go again. I paid you three sincere compliments, and you focused on the single note of criticism. Why do you do that?”
“It’s easier to notice the scent of bear scat than bluebells.”
“I’m serious.”
This conversation was starting to remind her of the therapy sessions Dawn forced
her to go to for six months after they moved here. The doctor kept asking what she felt. Casey just stuck to the truth—that she was beyond happy to be with Dawn again, relieved to be able to shower every day, and thrilled to not have to eat lentil loaf ever again. “Can you ask me again after I’ve had two more margaritas?”
“Acacia,” she warned in the same low tone that had preceded a grounding back in the day.
There was no way out of the conversation but to plow through it as quickly as possible. Casey headed back to the stove and quickly laid a layer of cheese, then mushrooms, avocado and more cheese on two tortillas. “Maybe I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
She bit her lip. “That I’m not good enough. Not smart enough.”
“In what way?”
“That those two years I spent making wildflower chains and letting my brain atrophy in the Sunshine Seekers made me dumb.”
“Honey, you took a break from school because your father forced you to do so. Once you got back in, you worked super hard. Caught right up.”
“But I was older than everyone else. It should’ve been easier.”
“Nonsense. You graduated on time. Finished college in four years, which is more than lots of youngsters do nowadays. Nobody’s judging you. Nobody thinks you’re dumb.”
“Maybe I do,” Casey burst out. Realized that she probably should’ve opened up a little more to the shrink all those years ago, because this fear had been festering for a good long while. Ignoring it had mostly worked. But dating Zane, with his multiple degrees and fame with his books and television movies, for crying out loud, made that impossible now. “When Dad took me from you, to live in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers, I just went along with it. I didn’t try to run away. I didn’t try to look for you. I fell for every stupid lie he told me about how we suddenly had to please the Sun God and that the rest of the entire freaking world was wrong about basically everything. Doesn’t that make me dumb?”
All for You Page 10