Best of My Love (Fool's Gold) (5 page)

Whatever the problem, Ceallach was always right, always the important one. Theirs wasn’t a partnership, at least not from his perspective. He’d often wondered why she stayed. No. The real question was why she’d married the man in the first place.

She poured them each a cup of coffee. “You should think about getting away.”

He took the mug and grinned. “Mom, my life
is
a vacation.”

“Not the business aspect of it.”

“I don’t mind that.”

She studied him. “I guess you never did. You were always smart that way. It’s interesting how you and Del are so different from your brothers.”

“You mean not like Dad?”

“I mean different.” Her voice chided ever so gently. “Speaking of your brothers, have you seen Nick?”

“Sure. A few days ago. Why?”

“I worry about him. But then I worry about all my boys.”

He knew that in her way, she was telling the truth. She’d always been there for her sons, loving them, taking care of them. He’d known that she would listen, would do her best to understand, even if, in the end, she would side with his father.

Like every good mother, she’d always claimed to love her five boys equally. Still, if he was asked to say who was her favorite, he would have to admit it was Ronan. The irony of that truth was the fact that Ronan wasn’t even hers. As he and Del had found out the previous fall, Ronan was their half brother—the result of Ceallach’s affair. Yet when his ex-mistress had abandoned her child, Elaine had taken him in and passed him off as one of her own. Mathias’s twin.

More secrets, he thought, wondering briefly what else he didn’t know about his family. Of course there were things they didn’t know about him. Like how badly he felt about what had happened on New Year’s Eve. And how he was determined to be different. But no matter how he changed, he knew one thing for sure. He would never fall in love. The pleasure was nowhere near worth the pain.

CHAPTER FOUR

S
HELBY
WASN
’
T
SURE
what to expect when she showed up at Aidan’s house on Saturday afternoon, but the small, well-kept bungalow was something of a surprise. There was a two-car garage, a wide porch and a huge snowman in the front yard. While most of the town celebrated Cabin Fever Days with snow people of all genders and sizes, she hadn’t thought that Aidan would be one to participate.

His snowman was about five feet tall, with a sturdy shape and smiling face. A ski cap topped his head and two ski poles leaned against him, as if he was about to embark on an outdoor adventure. There was a whimsical quality about the snowman—maybe in the way he seemed ready to spring to life. Aidan might not have his father’s talent to work with glass, but she would guess there were a few lingering artistic genes in him.

She walked up the porch stairs and knocked on the front door. In the few seconds it took him to answer, she acknowledged the nerves bouncing around in her stomach. Part of her wanted to bolt—there was no way this was going to work. But the sensible part of her, the part that had been to therapy and read a bunch of books and really wanted to get better, knew that showing up was the first step. That if her goal of healing from the damage done to her psyche was to be reached, she had to go through the process. Running away rarely accomplished anything.

Aidan opened the door. “Right on time. Come on in.”

She did as he requested, careful to stomp the snow off her boots before walking into the house.

There was a forty-second bit of busyness to distract her from her nerves—unwinding her scarf, handing over her coat before stepping out of her boots. She noticed that Aidan was also in stocking feet, but his socks were thick and dark, while hers were covered with brightly colored cats. The contrast made her smile.

They were both in jeans and sweaters. His navy, hers dark pink. She hadn’t known what to do about makeup and perfume and all that stuff. Because this wasn’t a date. She was hanging out with a friend. But still, she’d wondered, and in the end had done what she did for work. Mascara and lip gloss.

They stared at each other. He was tall and broad. Masculine. The foyer was small and they were standing close together. Awkwardness pressed in on her. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, let alone her body.

“Should we, um...” He cleared his throat. “Go sit down?”

“Sure.”

She followed him into a good-sized living room. One wall was paneled, but not like in those scary midcentury grandma homes. This was rough-hewn, obviously old and well cared for. A big wood-burning stone fireplace stood opposite, with a large mantel stretching across the wall. A huge television hung above it. The furniture was black leather, the floors hardwood. A few paintings, mostly landscapes, were scattered on the walls. A patterned rug of reds and browns and greens anchored the room. The room was eclectic, but ultimately welcoming.

“I like it,” she said. “It’s very masculine, but not in a no-girls-allowed way.”

Aidan shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I picked out most of it. Nick helped with the rug. He has an eye for color.”

“The artist thing.”

He nodded. “That would be it.” He pointed at the sofa. “Have a seat.”

She sat at one end of the sofa. He took the other. They looked at each other, then away. Silence filled the room and awkwardness returned. Which made sense. She and Aidan barely knew each other. Rather than become friends in the normal way—over time, through shared interests—they were forcing it upon themselves. Where on earth were they supposed to start?

“What about—”

“Did you want to—”

They both spoke at the same time, stopped, and silence returned. Shelby decided there was no point in ignoring the obvious.

“This is really uncomfortable,” she said firmly. “But I think we can get past it.”

“Okay.”

The slow response was more neutral than agreement.

“We have a purpose,” she continued. “I want to fall in love and get married.”

Aidan’s expression tightened with what could only be described as panic. Some of her tension eased.

“Not to you,” she pointed out. “Don’t freak.”

“Then don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? Why can’t I be honest?”

“Because it’s not what any guy wants to hear. Not right off. It means you have a picture of what’s going to happen in your life and you’ll use any guy to get there. It makes us feel trapped.”

His words almost made sense. “Like what we want is more important than the outcome? Caring more about the bridal gown than the groom?”

“Yeah, that. Men and women want different things. You want to be committed.”

“And men want to cheat.”

His brows rose. “Who cheated?”

She tucked one foot under her opposite leg as she considered her words. “Wow. I honestly don’t know where that came from. Miles cheated, but we were barely dating, so I’m not sure it counts. I guess what I mean is I don’t trust men.”

“Shouldn’t you be afraid a guy would hit you rather than he would cheat?”

Talk about cutting to be heart of the matter. She held up both hands. “Yes, and maybe we could ease into the honesty just a little.”

“I thought women liked a man to say what he was thinking.”

She smiled. “That’s a myth.”

“For what it’s worth, I never cheated.”

“That’s because you were never in a relationship long enough to get bored.”

One brow rose. “So you get to be honest, but I have to be careful?”

Oops. She drew in a breath. “You’re right. Sorry. I take back my request that you edit what you say. I’m tough. I can take it.”

She thought he might make a crack about her being weak or broken, but he surprised her by nodding.

“You
are
tough. You’re taking control of your situation and that’s admirable. A lot of people are more comfortable being victims.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They smiled at each other.

“So what are we going to do?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“With our afternoon. We have to do something.”

“Why? We’re talking. That’s nice. We could go to Jo’s Bar and get margaritas.”

Aidan shifted back in his seat. If she didn’t know better she would swear he was starting to sweat. “No. Guys don’t go get margaritas and talk.”

“You go get beers. It’s the same thing.”

“We get a beer and watch sports. It’s not the same thing. Women want to talk everything to death. Guys don’t do that. If you ignore most problems, they usually go away.”

“Uh-huh. And how’s that strategy working for you?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes. Trying not to talk about what’s wrong.”

“We could do something,” he offered. “Like watch a game. Or go skiing.”

Shelby considered his options. “You realize none of those require conversation.”

Aidan relaxed a little. “Isn’t that great?”

“But we have to get to know each other. We have to talk about our feelings.”

He winced. “Why?”

“We just do. That’s what...” She felt her eyes widen. “We’re totally different. The man-woman thing is real. I want to go have a conversation about my life and your life and what we can do to help each other, and you want to physically do something with only the occasional grunt for conversation. As a man, you don’t want to talk about anyone’s feelings, let alone your own.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. It’s not. Not talking about your feelings can be very relaxing.”

Which might be true but wasn’t helpful. “We really didn’t think this through.”

Aidan leaned toward her. “No. Do not give up on me now. We have a deal. We’ve gotten this far, we can figure out the rest of it. You want to do girl stuff and I want to do guy stuff.”

He gave her a slow, sexy smile. One that had her breath catching. But before she could do something ridiculous, like bat her eyes at him or flip her hair, she reminded herself that it wasn’t a slow, sexy smile. They weren’t involved that way. It was just a smile. She would ignore any subtext her hormones might read in to the situation.

“I know,” he told her. “We’ll alternate. Girl date, guy date. Not date, but you know what I mean.”

“That could work. We could each plan our gender event.” She grimaced. Avoiding the word
date
was harder that she would have thought.

“Gender event?”

“Do you have a better phrase?”

“I’m liking gender event.”

She laughed. “Okay, so you’re responsible for boy things and I’m in charge of girl things. And yes on the alternating. So who goes first?”

He stretched out his arms, one hand flat, the other curled into a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

She shifted until she was facing him, then together they hit their fists against their flat hands and counted to three.

“Rock,” Aidan said triumphantly, then groaned when he saw her paper. “You win.”

“I know,” she told him. “Poor you. I grew up with a brother. Why do guys always start out with rock? It’s very predictable.”

“We can’t help ourselves.” He stood. “We’re going to get margaritas and talk about our feelings, aren’t we?”

“You know it.”

* * *

J
O
’
S
B
AR
HAD
been around for eight or nine years. Aidan had been there a few times, but it wasn’t the kind of place he and his friends liked to hang out. For one thing, the bar catered to women.

On the surface, that might seem like a good thing—lots of beautiful women hanging out. What’s not to like? Only it wasn’t that kind of place. For one thing, the lighting was way too bright. There were no dark corners or ratty old booths. Instead the booths were new and scaled down in size. There were tables everywhere. The walls were painted some weird light purple color—Nick would know the name of the shade, but he didn’t.

While there were plenty of TVs around, they were always turned to shopping or female-based reality shows. The menu had lots of salads on it and most of the drinks had a diet version. The only part of the bar that felt close to normal was the small room in back with a pool table, but even with that concession, Jo’s generally wasn’t a place men went to on purpose.

Now The Man Cave was different. More male-friendly. Not that Shelby led him there.

“Isn’t this nice?” she asked as they walked inside.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, look.” She pointed to the televisions. “They’re having an
America’s Next Top Model
marathon. I love that show.”

He’d never seen it. When he glanced at the screen, he saw women posing for pictures, which should have been appealing. Except they all looked really young and he wasn’t interested in some skinny teenager, thank you very much. Not that he was interested in women at all, he reminded himself. There would be none of that for him—for at least six months.

There weren’t a lot of customers on a nonfestival Saturday afternoon. A couple of groups of women seemed to be finishing up lunch. There was a young couple at a booth in the corner. He and Shelby took seats at a small booth in the back. Aidan had a clear view of a TV, which he considered appropriate punishment for all his past misdeeds.

Jo walked over and looked between them. “This is new,” she said. Her gaze settled on him. “I thought you only did tourists.”

“Hi, Jo.” Because there didn’t seem to be a better response.

“We’re not dating,” Shelby told the other woman. “We’re friends. It’s not romantic.”

“If you say so. What can I get you?”

“A pitcher of margaritas and some nachos,” Shelby said with a smile. “We’re going to talk.”

Jo’s brows rose. “All righty then. I have
carnitas
nachos today. You want that?”

“Meat is good,” Aidan said.

“Then meat.” Shelby smiled at Jo. “Thank you.”

Jo left. Aidan couldn’t begin to imagine what she was thinking, or what rumors would be spreading through town over the next few days. Whatever they were, he would deal.

Shelby looked at him. “How was your week?”

“Fine.”

One corner of her mouth twitched. “Could you expand on that? Maybe give me a few details?”

Because they were “talking.” He drew in a breath. “Work is busy. We have a good snowpack this year, which helps with business. Lots of skiing. I’m offering a snowshoeing class for beginners. That meant buying more equipment, but I think it will pay off in the long run.”

“With people coming back next year?”

“And telling their friends they had a good time.”

“Is it difficult to learn how to do it?” she asked.

“No. It’s like walking in sand with really big shoes. Level terrain isn’t bad. Uphill is tiring and downhill is the biggest challenge.”

“Gravity,” she said with a smile. “It always gets you in the end. Kipling used to say that.”

As an Olympic champion, he would know. “He had a bad accident a couple of years back, didn’t he?”

She nodded. “In New Zealand. It ended his skiing career. For a while we were scared he wouldn’t walk again, but he was determined. And lucky.” Her expression turned wistful. “Now he’s married to Destiny, with a baby on the way. He has it all.”

Which was what Shelby wanted. A home. Family. Stability. Aidan knew her dreams would be considered normal. He should probably want them for himself. But there was no way. He just wanted to not be a jackass.

“You’re going to be an aunt,” he said to shift the subject to something slightly happier for her.

“My second time around. I consider Starr to be an honorary niece. She’s my sister-in-law’s half sister, and Destiny and Kipling have custody of her. She’s almost sixteen.”

He knew Destiny but wasn’t sure he’d met Starr.

Jo brought a pitcher of margaritas and two glasses. “Nachos are on the way. You both walking?”

“We are,” Shelby told her. “We’re good.”

“Just checking.”

“She always does that,” Shelby said in a low voice, when the other woman had left. “Makes sure we’re not going to drink and drive. It’s nice. People in town look out for each other.”