Crazy Love (18 page)

He bit back a grin. His mom couldn’t have been too upset by their confrontational chat if she honed in on the one topic guaranteed to hold her enthralled: his love life. Or lack of one as she usually berated him with.

Taking a sip of tea, she feigned nonchalance. “Did Sierra enjoy her shopping?”

“Loads of bags by the end of the day so I guess so.”

“Uh-huh.”

She appeared uncomfortable for all of two seconds before plowing on. “She’s nice. Do you like her?”

He couldn’t keep a straight face any longer and burst into laughter. “I’m not in grade school any more.”

“You can’t blame me for trying. Not that you ever told me anything about your girlfriends back then either.”

She waggled a finger at him, making him feel like a naughty schoolboy. “If you think you’ve got free reign to discuss my relationship, expect the same treatment, sonny.”

“We don’t have a relationship,” he said, the image of Sierra’s wide blue eyes begging him to prove otherwise as he’d kissed her goodnight yesterday.

He’d almost lost it up on that mountain top and if it hadn’t been for the untimely intrusion of those kids he knew his famed self control would’ve been shattered by a woman who tempted him with every breath.

“Fair enough. How thing’s are working out at Flo’s?”

His mom dropped the subject when he’d expected an interrogation, another oddity in this unusual morning of probing questions and shared confidences.

We don’t have a relationship
.

The denial echoed. Attraction was one thing, getting involved emotionally another.

Involvement beyond anything casual could only lead to one thing.

Trouble.

CHAPTER NINE

Cupid’s Dating Tips for the Enlightened Male

Women equate men with mascara. Both run at the first sign of emotion. Prove them wrong
.

Hank strolled down the riverbank to his favorite spot, stuck his rod in the sand, dumped the cooler and perched on a rock worn flat by his butt over the last twenty years.

He twisted the top off a Bud and took a long slug, content to watch dragonflies dance across the water’s surface, the tranquility never failing to soothe him.

When Hannah died he’d spent countless hours here, contemplating a world gone mad when the woman he adored could be taken so cruelly, ravaged by a disease that left him helpless with rage.

Ovarian cancer, a malicious, relentless, silent killer that had stalked his beautiful, sweet, thirty-five year old wife, preyed on her, shadowed her for eight months before ripping her out of his arms and leaving him devastated at forty, his life in tatters.

He’d grieved for years, throwing himself into work, obliterating the driving need to lash out at anything, anyone.

Sierra had helped, bowling into his life just after he’d lost Hannah, a fiery ten year old with a tough veneer hiding a marshmallow heart. They’d bonded and while she’d helped ease his grief, nothing had stopped the constant pain gnawing at his heart, widening the gaping hole left by Hannah’s death.

He’d thought he could never love anyone as much as he’d loved Hannah.

He’d been wrong.

For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what had prompted Sierra to plug his personals into that meddlesome computer of hers but whatever her reasoning, he’d silently thanked her every day since.

When Olivia Fairley first contacted him he’d thought he was the brunt of an elaborate joke. He’d been using a computer for years to keep track of his business and could usually identify a dud email when he saw one. Yet something about Liv’s words had captured his attention and he’d re-read her email several times before replying, keeping his response coolly polite.

If she was a crackpot, no harm done. If she was genuine in her wishes to meet a new friend, someone who enjoyed classical music, watching old movies and a good cup of tea, well…a woman like that sounded perfect in his estimation.

Lucky for him Liv hadn’t been crazy; unless he counted how she felt about him. What a classy woman like her saw in his sorry ass he’d never know but he thanked the Lord every day for bringing her into his empty life.

He loved her sense of humor, her gentle teasing, her radiant smiles which took some coaxing, but when they arrived it was like the sun rising over Mount Eros in a burst of vibrant, dazzling color he couldn’t help but admire.

He loved her resilience, the fact she’d survived a horrific marriage yet believed in him enough to have another go.

He loved her passion, her eager responses when he touched her, the pleasure she brought to every union.

But most of all, he loved her for the way she looked at him, with open admiration and a blinding love that made him feel like a superhero.

Simply, Liv completed him. In so many ways he’d never imagined.

“Caught anything yet?”

Hank held up a hand to Marc in greeting and gestured at the empty rock beside him. “Apart from a cold?”

Marc laughed, surprisingly at ease for their first man-to-man bonding session. “Poor Mom, having to live with that sense of humor every day.”

“She loves me.”

Hank’s shrug, part embarrassment, part wonderment, softened the defensive edge in his tone.

He expected Marc to push, to badger, to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, and almost fell off his rock when the young man merely nodded, sat and stared across the river.

“You come here often?”

“That one of your tried and true LA pick-up lines?” Hank chuckled and nudged the cooler toward him. “Because I’ll give you a tip, son, I doubt that’ll work here.”

Marc grinned, grabbed a beer and knocked the top off before raising it in his direction. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Sierra won’t tolerate corny crap like that either. She’ll give it to you straight.”

Marc maintained eye contact and Hank liked the fact the young man wasn’t one of those evasive types who couldn’t look a man in the eye.

“So I’ve noticed.” Marc paused, chugged his beer, before a flicker of unease clouded his eyes. “You two close?”

Hank nodded. “Met her as a youngster twenty years ago, after my wife died. She helped me through a rough time.”

The smile softening Marc’s uncompromising mouth, his face relaxing into pensiveness, had Hank biting back a grin. If Liv’s son had a thing for Sierra, he wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Were you married long?”

Hank stiffened, not wanting to discuss Hannah with a man he barely knew. But this was Liv’s son, openly opposed to their marriage. Maybe a dose of the truth would set his mind at ease?

“Eight years.”

“No kids?”

“We waited too long…” Hank shook his head, the sliver of regret lodged in his heart niggling like a nasty splinter.

Hannah had wanted kids, he’d wanted to wait, citing the growing business as a legitimate excuse. But deep down he’d been scared, downright terrified of changing the status quo, had seen what kids had done to his friends’ marriages.

By the time he’d woken up and changed his mind it had been too late.

“Sorry to pry. It’s just that—”

“You’re concerned for your mother. I get it. I would be too after what she’s been through.”

Marc’s eyes widened in surprise but he didn’t speak, stared into his beer instead.

“You and me, we’re only getting acquainted and there’s a long road ahead but know this, sonny. I’m nothing like your father and I’ll do everything in my power to make Liv happy.”

Marc held his gaze, studying him, before nodding. “If you don’t, you’ll have to deal with me.”

Hank admired the young man’s gutsiness. “Fair enough. Now, why don’t we drink to your mom?”

He held up his bottle and after a moment’s hesitation Marc clinked it with his.

“To Mom.”

“To Liv.”

They drank in silence and when Hank finished his beer he picked up his rod, weighing it carefully to assess the exact amount of line to cast out.

“Has there been much talk about Sierra and me?”

Hank cast out. “Pardon my bluntness, but a man can’t fart around here without someone running behind to fan it.”

Marc laughed so loud a flock of geese took flight.

“Why? Something bothering you?”

“Yeah.” Marc leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, the Bud dangling from his fingertips, his shuttered expression hiding his innermost thoughts.

Doubting Marc would confide in him, Hank said, “I’m a good listener.”

Marc grunted and Hank didn’t push, rummaging in the cooler for another beer, offering one to the young man who shook his head.

If Marc didn’t want to talk, fine. The peace of the river would placate whatever demons were hounding him.

“You ever faced a dilemma?”

Secretly pleased at how well the bonding session was going, Hank nodded. “What kind of dilemma you talking about?”

“Work versus…other stuff.”

Ah…so that’s how it was. This thing with Sierra had moved beyond interest and was eating away at the guy who was a workaholic according to Liv.

Battles of the heart; fazed them all.

Hank chose his words carefully as he picked up the rod, enjoying the familiarity of it in his hands. “Sounds tough. What are you going to do?”

“Damned if I know.”

Ironic. He’d come here doubting Marc, especially after what Eric Grayson had said on the phone earlier. Eric had been hired to do a full background check and Hank knew digging into his personal business was the sign of a man desperate to find something, anything, he could use against him.

He’d thought Marc taking a week off from his beloved job to spend time with his mom had been too good to be true and now Hank knew the real reason behind Marc’s extended stay. Not that it bothered him. He’d planned on telling Liv the whole truth soon anyway; Marc’s nosiness brought the date forward.

Hank knew the right time to tell Liv: later this week, before Marc left. He’d allay the young whippersnapper’s fears, Liv would know everything there was to know about him and they could look forward to the wedding.

Nothing could come between them. He loved her, she loved him. Simple.

Thankfully, Eric had agreed to buy him some time. While he’d never ask his friend to lie on a paid job, the speed at which Eric conducted his investigation was all-important and far be it for him to complain if Eric took an extra few days to give Marc the information he required.

But there was more to Marc’s continuing stay in Love and if he didn’t know any better he’d guess the young man had developed feelings for Sierra.

Considering Marc’s ruthless business reputation, Hank didn’t know if this cheered or annoyed him.

“Piece of advice?”

Marc nodded, his baffled expression that of a man in love, without a clue what to do about it.

“These dilemmas have a way of sorting themselves out. Do what’s right, do what you truly believe in, can’t go wrong.”

A wry smile creased Marc’s face. “I didn’t want to like you but you make it tough.”

Hank shrugged off the reluctant praise and gestured to the river. “It’s this place. A man can’t stay grumpy out here.”

Their gazes locked, the newfound respect in Marc’s gaze gladdening his heart. Hank doubted they’d ever be best mates but the fact Liv’s son had taken the time to get to know him was a good sign. His fiancée had been through enough without the two most important men in her life at loggerheads.

Marc raised his bottle, his expression lighter than a few minutes ago. “Cheers.”

“Bottoms up.”

Hank smiled behind his beer. Everything was falling into place and this time next week he could look forward to his wedding, secure in the knowledge nothing and no one could prevent the woman he adored becoming his wife.

Belle flipped the open sign to closed and ushered Sierra into the back room of her salon.

“Let me guess. You changed your mind about the Brazilian?”

Sierra grimaced and handed over the bag of bagels she’d picked up from the diner on her way over.

“You’d need to give me an anesthetic first.” She winced. “Even then I probably wouldn’t go through with it.”

“Chicken.”

“And proud of it. Now, pass me one of those bagels. I haven’t got long.”

“Desperadoes lining up this afternoon?”

She glared at Belle before joining in her laughter. “In that case, why aren’t you there?”

“I’m single and loving it.”

Belle split a bagel, slathered cream cheese and capers on both sides before demolishing half in one bite. “See? A guy wouldn’t approve of me doing that. He’d call me a fat pig.”

Sierra shook her head in amazement as Belle popped the rest of the bagel in her mouth and almost swallowed it whole.

“Where do you put it? If I ate half as much you do I’d be the size of Mount Rushmore.”

Belle licked her lips free of crumbs before sipping her soda and reaching for a choc-chip muffin chaser. “These curves need some serious maintenance.”

She patted her hips and wiggled her DDs. “You can’t get this sort of body by nibbling on carrot sticks.”

“Tell me about it. If I thought eating carrot sticks could give me a gorgeous bod like yours I’d consume so much you’d call me Bugs.”

Belle grinned and mimicked chewing an imaginary carrot out the side of her mouth. “What’s up, Love Doc?”

“Not much, unfortunately,” she said, wondering why she couldn’t shake the disappointment that plagued her since returning from LA last night.

She should’ve been glad she didn’t have to spend the night with Marc. Instead, she’d been preoccupied at work all morning, her mind wandering from snippets of conversation they’d had yesterday to that mind-blowing kiss on top of Mount Eros.

The way he’d held her, the way he’d touched her, haunted her all night and most of this morning. Since when did she moon over a guy? Time to snap out of it.

“No action, huh?”

“I wasn’t expecting any.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire
.

She caught a glimpse of Belle’s knowing grin before her friend bit into her second muffin.

“Word of advice. If you don’t want your best friend knowing when you’re hoping to have sex, get your bikini wax done elsewhere.”