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“I would like that.” She knew she wore a giant, silly grin. And somehow she had gone on tiptoe. Her body felt lighter than air.
“Pick you up at seven?”
She settled back onto her heels and nodded. “Seven is great.”
A trim, fortyish woman in workout clothes approached the doors. Quinn opened one and ushered her in. Then, with a final nod in Chloe’s direction, he went in, too.
That lighter-than-air feeling? It stayed with her. Her feet barely touched the ground the whole way back to the showroom.
Strange how everything could change for the better in the course of one afternoon.
All at once, the world, so cruel to her in recent years, was a good and hopeful place again. Suddenly everything looked brighter.
Yeah, okay. It was just a date. But it was a date with a man who thrilled her—and made her feel safe and protected and cherished and capable, all at the same time.
* * *
That night, Chloe made chocolate chip cookies. Once they’d cooled, she packed them up into two bright decorator tins. She took them to the showroom the next morning. One she offered at the coffee table.
The other she carried with her when she went to meet with Manny at Quinn’s house after lunch.
“Cookies!” Annabelle nodded her approval. “I like cookies.” She sent Manny a regretful glance. “Manny’s cookies are not very good.”
Manny told Chloe, “Never was a baker—or that much of a cook, when you come right down to it. I enjoy cooking, though. Too bad nobody appreciates my efforts.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows at Annabelle. “And what do you say when someone brings you really good cookies?”
“Thank you, Chloe.”
“You’re welcome.”
She turned those sweet brown eyes on Manny again. “Can I have one now?”
“That could be arranged.” Manny led them to the kitchen, which had appliances that had been state-of-the-art back in the late eighties, a fruit-patterned wallpaper border up near the ceiling and acres of white ceramic tile. Annabelle made short work of two cookies and a glass of milk, after which she wanted to take Chloe up to her room.
Chloe looked to Manny. The old guy shrugged. “Don’t keep her up there all day,” he said to the little girl.
“Manny, I want all the princesses, but it won’t take that long.” She reached right up and grabbed Chloe’s hand, at which point Chloe’s heart pretty much melted. “Okay, Chloe. Let’s go.”
After half an hour with Quinn’s daughter, Chloe knew exactly which princesses Annabelle wanted represented in her new room, as well as her favorite colors. They went back downstairs, and Chloe spent a couple of hours with Manny, going through the house, bottom to top, talking hard and soft surfaces, color choices, style preferences and the benefits of knocking out a wall or two. Chloe jotted notes and took pictures of existing furniture and fixtures that would be included in the new design.
Before she left at four-thirty, she promised to crunch the numbers. The contract would be ready for his and Quinn’s approval early next week.
“Give me a call,” said Manny. “We can decide then whether to meet here or at your showroom.”
“That’ll work.”
Annabelle urged her to “Come back and see me soon, Chloe. And bring cookies.”
Chloe promised that she would. She drove to the showroom, let Tai go home and got to work on the contract, planning out the estimated costs, room by room. At six, she closed up and headed for her house, a big, fat smile on her face and a thousand ideas for the redesign swirling in her brain.
She parked in her detached garage and was halfway along the short breezeway to the front door when she caught sight of the gorgeous bouquet of orchids and roses waiting in a clear, square vase on the porch. It must be from Quinn. The arrangement was so simple and lovely and the gesture so thoughtful, she let out a happy cry just at the sight of it.
Okay, it was a little silly to be so giddy at his thoughtfulness. But she hadn’t had flowers in so long. Ted used to buy them for her, and since the divorce, well, she had no desire to buy them for herself. To her, a gorgeous bouquet of flowers just reminded her of Ted and all the ways she’d messed up her life. But if Quinn gave her flowers, she could start to see a beautiful arrangement in a whole new light.
She disarmed her alarm and unlocked the door—and then scooped up the vase and carried it in.
Dropping her purse on the entry bench, she took the vase straight to the kitchen peninsula, where she set it carefully down. The card had a red amaryllis on the front and the single word, Bloom. Bloom was the shop that belonged to Quinn’s sister, Jody.
Whipping the little card off its plastic holder, she flipped it open and read Beautiful flowers always remind me of you. I hate that it went so wrong for us. I miss you.
Ted
Chapter Four (#ulink_582a4013-26c9-568c-97c9-28892106c31b)
“No!” Chloe shouted right out loud, not even caring that she sounded like some crazy person, yelling at thin air. “No, you do not get to do that. You do not.” She tore the note in half and then in half again and she dropped it on the floor and stomped on it for good measure. They were divorced, for God’s sake. He had a new wife. And all she wanted from him for now and forever was never to see or hear from him again.
Her heart racing with a sick kind of fury that he’d dared to encroach on her new life where he had no business being, Chloe whipped the beautiful flowers from the vase. Dripping water across the counter and onto the floor, too, she dropped them in the trash compactor, shoved it shut and turned the motor on. The compactor rumbled. She felt way too much satisfaction as the machine crushed the bright blooms to a pulp.
Once the flowers were toast, she poured the water from the vase into the sink, whipped the compactor open again and dropped the vase on top of the mashed flowers. She ran the motor a second time, grinning like a madwoman when she heard that loud, scary pop that meant the vase was nothing but shards of broken glass. After that, she picked up the little bits of card, every one, threw them in with the shattered vase and the pulped flowers, took the plastic bag out of the compactor, lugged it out to the trash bin and threw it in.
Good riddance to bad trash.
She spent a while stewing, considering calling Ted and giving him a large piece of her mind.
But no. She wanted nothing to do with him and she certainly didn’t want to make contact with him again. That might just encourage him.
She wondered if the flowers and the creepy note could be considered the act of a stalker.
But then she reminded herself that Ted and his bride, Larissa, lived more than a thousand miles away in San Diego. It was one thing for Ted to have his assistant send her flowers just to freak her out, but something else again for him to show up on her doorstep in person.
Wasn’t going to happen. He was just being a jerk, an activity at which he excelled.
God. She had married him. How could she have been such an utter, complete fool?
Back in the house, she changed into jeans and a tank top. Then she took her time cooking an excellent dinner of fresh broiled trout with lemon butter, green beans and slivered almonds and her favorite salad of field greens, blueberries, Gorgonzola cheese and toasted walnuts, with a balsamic vinaigrette.
When it was ready, she set the table with her best dishes, lit a candle, poured herself a glass of really nice sauvignon blanc and sat down. She ate slowly, savoring every delicious bite.
A little later, she took a long scented bath and put on a comfy sleep shirt and shorts. Even after the bath, she was still buzzing with anger at the loser she’d once had the bad judgment to marry. Streaming a movie or reading a book was not going to settle her down. She needed a serious distraction.
So she went to the cozy room on the lower floor that she used as a home office and lost herself in the plans for Quinn’s house. Within a few minutes of sitting down at her desk, the only thing on her mind was the rooms taking shape in her imagination—and on her sketch pad. And the numbers coming together for each room, for the project as a whole. She worked for hours and hardly noticed the time passing.
When she finally went back upstairs to the main floor, it was almost midnight. Time for bed.
But she didn’t go to bed. It was cool out that evening. So she put on a big sweater over her sleep shirt, pulled on a pair of fluffy pink booties and went out onto her deck. It was something she had not done after dark since the night Quinn spent in her bed.
But she was doing it tonight.
She padded to the deck railing and stared down at Quinn’s house.
Was she actually expecting him to be watching, waiting for the moment when she wandered out under the stars?
Not really. It just felt...reassuring somehow. To gaze down at his house, to know that she would see him again, would share dinner with him on Friday night.
When the French doors opened and he emerged, she let out a laugh of pure delight and waved to signal him up.
He didn’t even hesitate, just went on down the steps at the side of his deck and forged up the hill. She went to meet him at the top of her stairs, feeling breathless and wonderful.
Tonight, he wore ripped old jeans, a white T-shirt that seemed to glow in the dark and the same moccasins he’d been wearing that other night. He said, “Love those furry boots.” When she laughed, he added, “I was getting worried you might never come outside.”
“And I was absolutely certain there was no way you might be glancing up to see if I was looking down for you.” She held out her hand. He took it. His skin was warm, his palm callous. Just his touch made her body sing. “Come sit with me?”
He looked at her as though she were the only other person in the world. “Whatever you want, Chloe.”
She tugged him over to the two chairs they’d sat in that other night and pulled him down beside her.
Silence.
But it was a good silence. They just sat there, staring out at the clear night and the distant mountains. A slight wind came up, rustling the nearby pines. And an owl hooted off in the shadows somewhere between his house and hers.
Finally, she said, “I met with Manny. I think it went well.”
“He says so, too.”
“And I’m in love with your daughter.”
He chuckled, a rough and tempting sound. “She has that effect on people. Manny’s tough, but Annabelle still manages to wrap him around her little finger. Truth is she rules the house. We just try to keep up with her.”
She looked over at him. “Has she asked you about her mother again?”
“Not yet.” He met her eyes through the shadows. “I know, I know. Wait until she asks. And then don’t load her up with more information than she’s ready for.”
“That’s the way.” She thought of the flowers she’d crushed in the compactor—and then pushed them out of her mind. Why ruin a lovely moment by bringing Ted into it?
Instead, she asked him how he had met Manny. He explained that the old ex-fighter had been his first professional trainer. “I met him at the first gym I walked into after leaving home. Downtown Gym, it was called, in Albuquerque. Manny ran the place and worked with the fighters who trained there. We got along. When I moved on, he went with me. I had a lot of trainers. And over time, Manny became more like my manager, I guess you could say. And kind of a cross between a best friend and a dad.” He shot her a warning look. “But don’t tell him I said that.”
She grinned. “Why not?”
“He already thinks he knows what’s best for me. If he ever heard I said I thought of him as a father, he’d never shut up with the advice and instructions.”
She softly advised, “But I’ll bet it would mean the world to him to know how you really feel.”
“He knows. Hearing it out loud would only make him more impossible to live with.” Quinn faked a dangerous scowl. “So keep your mouth shut.”
She laughed and held up both hands. “I swear I’ll never say a word.”
“Good.”
“So, how did he end up back here in Justice Creek with you and Annabelle?”
“I don’t think either of us really considered a different option. He moved in with me when Annabelle was a baby, to help out.”
When Annabelle was a baby...
So the little girl had been with her dad from the first? What had happened to the mother, the one Quinn said Annabelle would most likely never meet?
So many questions.
But Chloe had such a good feeling about the man beside her. She trusted him to tell her everything in his own good time.
He said, “When I decided to retire from the Octagon last year, Manny was already taking care of Annabelle full-time.” Chloe knew what the Octagon was: the eight-sided ring in which Ultimate Fighting Championship mixed-martial-arts fighters competed. During the rough years when she was still married to Ted, she’d watched more than one of Quinn’s televised UFC fights. It had lifted her spirits to see how far the wild, angry boy from her hometown had come. He continued, “I asked Manny to stick with me when I moved back home. He agreed right off, said he supposed it was about time he settled down. Annabelle’s a handful, but so far he’s managing.”
“From what I’ve seen, he’s great with her. He’s patient, encourages her to express herself and make some of her own decisions—but he stays in charge, too.”
“Yeah. He’s a champ with her, all right...” Quinn’s voice kind of trailed off and there was another silence, one somehow not as comfortable as the first.
She glanced over at him again and found him watching her. “Whatever it is, you might as well just say it.”
“I got a question, but I don’t want to freak you out.”
An unpleasant shiver traveled down the backs of her arms and she thought of Ted again. Because if her freaking out could be involved, it probably had to do with Ted.
Then again, how would Quinn know that? She’d mentioned her ex once, on the night that Quinn came to her bed. What she’d told him had been far from flattering to Ted, but she’d said nothing about how thinking of him made her want to crush flowers and break expensive vases.
“Ask me,” she said. “I can take it.” The words came out sounding so confident. She was proud of them.
“All right, then. Does your mama know you’re going out to dinner with me?”
Her mother. Of course. “No.”
“It’s Justice Creek, Chloe.”
“Meaning she will know?”
“I’d say the odds are better than fifty-fifty, wouldn’t you?”
Chloe kept her gaze steady on his. It was no hardship. Looking at him made her think of hot sex. And safety. And that combination really worked for her. “That girl—the mama’s girl I was in high school?”
“Yeah?”
She slanted him a teasing glance. “You’re not even going to argue that I was never a mama’s girl?”
“Hey. You called it, not me.”
And she made a low, rueful noise in her throat. “Yes, I did. And I was. But I’m not anymore. I tried living my life my mother’s way. It didn’t work for me. I’m all grown up now and my mother doesn’t get to tell me what to do or whom to spend my time with.”
One side of his beautiful mouth curved up then. It was a smirk, heavy on the irony, more like the old, dangerous, edgy Quinn from back in high school than the one she’d been getting to know lately. “Whom. Always so ladylike.”
“Don’t tease me. I’m serious.”
