Almost Perfect (8 page)

Liz wanted to ask her why, but the three kids came down the stairs just then.

Introductions were made, the pizza ordered and rules for the evening established. Liz made sure her cell number was written down. She'd already talked to Melissa about Montana coming over to watch the younger kids and the teen had agreed she was happy not to have to take on more responsibility. Just before she left, Liz checked to make sure the pizza money was on the dining room table.

But the two twenties she'd left were gone.

“Did somebody take the pizza money?” she yelled toward the living room.

The kids and Montana were already engrossed in
picking out their movies for the evening. A mumbled “I didn't see it” drifted back to her.

Liz checked under the table, to see if the money had fallen. But there weren't any bills tucked behind chair legs. Maybe she'd only planned to put out the money.

She removed two more twenties from her wallet and handed them to Montana.

“Have fun,” she called. “I should be back by ten, but if I'm not, everyone goes to bed then. Bye.”

“Bye, Aunt Liz.”

“Bye, Mom.”

“Have a good time,” Montana told her. “Get Ethan to tell you about the book festival.”

“You're relentless,” Liz said as she walked to the door.

“One of my best qualities. It marks me as a Hendrix.”

E
THAN'S HOUSE WAS ON THE OTHER
side of town, which meant it was a fifteen-minute walk. With the longer days, the sun was still out, the sky blue. She distracted herself by naming the flowers she passed. As she knew little more than the basic rose/carnation/daisy types, it wasn't a totally successful diversion.

Instead she questioned her choice of clothing for the evening. She'd wanted to be casual but not too casual, settling on a cap-sleeve T-shirt in light green and a white denim skirt that showed off her spray-tanned legs. With her red hair, real tanning was impossible and only promoted sunburn and freckles.

Maybe she should have simply worn jeans. Did a skirt imply a date? She didn't want him thinking she thought this was more than it was.

Before she could make herself totally insane, she turned on Ethan's street and paused to admire the house. It was relatively new, craftsman style with a wide porch and plenty of wood. Cream shutters contrasted with the deep green of the main house.

There was plenty more to appreciate, but she had a
feeling that if she stood in front too long, she wouldn't have the courage to go inside. Eventually the neighbors would notice her frozen on the sidewalk, assume she was crazy and call the police. From there it would all be downhill, proving that going inside was probably the safest and best plan.

She made her way to the front door, which opened before she could knock. Ethan stood there, looking tall and masculine and sexy in jeans, boots and a soft white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His hair was slightly mussed, his expression both welcoming and expectant. For a second she felt a very different kind of tension—one that began low in her belly and worked itself all over her body. While it was better than nerves or annoyance, it wasn't any safer.

She'd loved Ethan once, she reminded herself. That made her vulnerable. Just because they'd worked through a few things didn't mean she could relax now. Noticing that he was a good-looking guy who made her insides sigh with appreciation wasn't anything she had time for.

“You made it,” he noted.

“Amazing but true.” She stepped inside. “Great house. Did you build it?”

“A few years ago.”

“With Rayanne?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“No. I sold that house.”

Because of the memories? Probably, she thought,
telling herself not to ask questions if she didn't want to hear the answers.

“Come on in,” he said, motioning her to the left.

The entryway was large and open, with a two-story ceiling and dark wood floors. She crossed the space and entered a huge living room with a fireplace at one end and a view of the mountains through big windows.

The furniture was masculine but comfortable, the artwork conservative. Rugs covered enough of the hardwood floor that sound didn't echo. On the far side was an opening to a dining room.

He led the way into the kitchen which was filled with cherry cabinets, miles of granite and large south-facing windows. Two bar stools had been pulled up to the counter. There was a bottle of red wine and two glasses, along with a plate of appetizers. Delicious scents of garlic and spices drifted from one of the two stainless steel ovens.

“I'm impressed,” she said.

“Don't be. I know a great caterer. I call, food arrives, I heat it.”

He waited until she took one of the seats before reaching for the wine.

“The perfect bachelor lifestyle?” she asked.

“Some days.” He opened the bottle with an easy, practiced motion. “You're not married, either. Want to talk about it?”

She took the glass of wine he offered and shook her head. “Not really.”

“Because of the guy or because we should stick to safer topics?”

“I think safer topics are a better idea,” she answered cautiously.

“You sound wary.”

“I'm prepared to practice my duck-and-cover skills.”

He gave her a smile. “Because I may start using you as target practice again?”

“Absolutely.”

The bar was high enough that with her sitting and him standing, they were practically at eye level. She could see all the shades of brown that made up his irises, the long, thick lashes that took her three coats of mascara to achieve. If she inhaled deeply, she would catch the scent of soap and man. A scent she remembered, even now.

“Tonight we've called a truce,” he declared, touching his glass to hers. “Remember?”

“And I can trust you?”

The smile turned into the slow, sexy grin she remembered. The one that made her think about how long it had been since she'd had a man in her bed. No, not a man, she corrected herself.
This
man.

They might have been young, but he'd still been a whole lot more than her first time. He'd been her best time. He'd made love with a combination of affection and tenderness no one else had matched. He'd made her believe that anything was possible.

And then he'd broken her heart.

“A truce,” she agreed, knowing that having loved Ethan once, she would always be vulnerable to him. She had to stay strong to protect herself and Tyler.

He moved to the other side of the counter and pushed the plate of food toward her.

“How's it going with Roy's kids?” he asked.

“So far, so good. I've got them fed and feeling safe, so that's half the battle.” She leaned toward him. “They survived on their own for nearly three months. Roy's wife left them one hundred dollars and took off. I want to report her to the police, but I need to talk to Roy first. Find out what he wants.”

Ethan looked stunned. “She abandoned two kids?”

“Walked out and never came back. The money ran out, the utilities got turned off. Melissa's been stealing what they needed to survive.”

“No one noticed?” he asked. “No one called social services?”

Liz thought about her own childhood. “You'd be amazed at how many kids slip through the cracks. I'm going to see Roy tomorrow. I wanted to go there while the girls are still in school.” She glanced at him. “Would you mind taking Tyler? I don't think he's ready to see Folsom Prison.”

“Sure. Bring him by the office.”

“Thanks.”

“What's going to happen to the girls?”

“I don't know,” she admitted. “I'm hoping Roy has a plan. If he doesn't, my family just got bigger.”

“You'd take them?”

She nodded slowly, thinking if there wasn't anyone else, she didn't have much choice. She knew nothing about teenage girls, except she'd once been one. She hoped that was going to be enough.

“That's a lot to take on,” he said.

“You'd do the same for one of your brothers or sisters.”

“Probably. If Mom didn't take them first.”

“She is a tiger.” Liz did her best to keep her tone light.

“You'll like her a lot more when you get to know her.”

“Something else to look forward to,” Liz murmured, hoping she wouldn't be in town long enough for any of Ethan's family to be an issue.

“Having Roy's kids in your life would change everything,” he told her.

“I know. I'm still kind of in denial. Better to wait and see what happens than start any planning now. If the arrangement
is
permanent, then we'll all figure it out together.”

She looked up and saw him staring at her. “What?”

“Just waiting for you to admit you were killing me over and over again in your books.”

She shrugged, trying not to smile. Or be happy that he'd obviously read her books. “You should be flattered. You're a recurring character in a successful series of books.”

“I'm a dead body. Not much to be flattered about.”

“You always get a name and a history.”

“Along with a very graphic description of my death.”

This time she did smile. “You're a tough guy. You can handle it.”

He smiled back. “I'm hoping to persuade you to move on to another victim.”

“The writing muse is a tricky thing.”

He leaned against the counter. “You don't believe in muses.”

“How do you know?”

“You wouldn't give up that much power to a force you couldn't control.”

He was right, but it startled her that he had figured it out. No doubt their pesky past was to blame. Before she could figure out what to say, the oven timer dinged.

Saved by the bell had never sounded so good.

 

T
HEY MADE IT THROUGH DINNER
talking about safer topics. The catered food was excellent, the wine good enough that she didn't protest when he refilled her glass twice. The result was a pleasantly full feeling combined with a slight buzz. Liz wasn't drunk, but she was glad she was walking rather than driving home.

“Does the town look different to you?” Ethan asked when they'd finished eating. It had grown dark outside. A cool breeze drifted in through the open windows.

“There's been a lot of growth,” she said, turning her glass slowly. “Those new houses out by the golf course. When I left, I'm not sure they'd even broken ground on
the lots. There are a few new businesses. Daisy's place is now the Fox and Hound.”

“Daisy's place has been five different restaurants in the past ten years. No one knows why—it's a good location. Lots of foot traffic.”

“There are new people, too,” she added, glancing at him. “And some old. I ran into Pia yesterday, along with your sister.”

Although she was watching carefully, nothing about his expression changed.

He seemed to sense her scrutiny and frowned. “What?”

“I thought you'd have something to say about her.”

“Pia? Why?”

“Because she's here. Because when I first found out I was pregnant, I came back to tell you only to find you in bed with her.” She held up her hand. “Sorry. That's not truce material. You'll tell me that I left and you could see whoever you wanted. That will hurt my feelings, then I'll yell and we'll fight and I'm tired of fighting. At least for tonight.”

“You don't need me here for this conversation, do you?”

“Apparently not.” She sighed. “I do have a question about her, though.”

“Pia?”

She nodded. “In high school, she was really horrible, right? Mean and bitchy and not someone you'd leave a small child with?”

“She wasn't the nicest person.”

“Good. Then it's not my imagination. Because she was totally different yesterday. Friendly and nice. It was so unexpected, I felt like I was having an alternate-universe experience. I started to wonder if I was remembering the past wrong or something.”

“You're not.” He hesitated. “I didn't sleep with Pia.”

Liz was sorry she'd brought it up. Apparently Pia wasn't the only one to have bitchy moments. “It doesn't matter.”

“It does. We were at a party, I was missing you and lonely and mad. I'd been out with her a couple of times, I took her home, but I was too drunk. Nothing happened.”

All this time later, she found herself wanting to believe him. “Ethan, it was a long time ago.”

“I didn't sleep with her,” he repeated.

Information that shouldn't make a difference, but still loosened a knot inside of her.

“Thanks,” she said.

“You're welcome.” He picked up his wine. “I know why you left, but I wish you'd stayed to talk to me.”

She shrugged. There was no way that would have happened. “You went back to college and forgot about me.”

“I never forgot.”

There was something about the way he said the words. Something about his dark gaze. She felt herself drawn to him, or maybe she was drawn to their past.
Ever since she'd gotten the e-mail from her niece, her life had been crazy and confusing and she hadn't had a chance to catch her breath.

“You swore you'd never stay here,” she remembered, to distract them both. “After college, you were going to see the world.”

“It didn't work out that way.”

“The injury?”

He stared at her. “You know about that?”

Ethan had entered college on an athletic scholarship. He and Josh had always planned to take the racing world by storm. They would compete together, sharing the victories. They'd planned back-to-back Tour de France wins, arguing about who would be victorious that first year.

In college Ethan had been hurt enough that he never had the chance to race competitively.

“I wasn't reading the paper searching for your name, if that's what you're asking,” she corrected. “But I heard what happened. I'm sorry.”

He shrugged. “That was a long time ago. I finished college and came home to sulk.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “Not that I would have admitted it at the time. Then my dad died unexpectedly. My mom fell apart. Everyone looked to me and I had to make it right.”

Which sounded like him. Even in high school he'd been a steady kind of guy. Not that rejecting her had made him hero material.

She told herself to let that go, at least for now.
Tonight was about getting to know each other again so they could be friends and deal with Tyler.

“You took over the business?” she asked.

He nodded. “Learned it from the bottom up. Took me a while to figure out I liked building things. Then I started with the windmills.”

“And the rest is history?”

“Something like that.”

“You could have walked away,” she said. “But the thought didn't cross your mind, did it?”

“No. You know me—it's all about family. The Hendrixes' place in our town's history.” His tone was filled with both humor and pride.

He'd been like that before, she remembered. Proud of his heritage and amused by it at the same time. Back in school, he'd claimed he was different from his father, but he was wrong. When push came to shove, he worried more about the family reputation than doing the right thing.