Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (28 page)

Of all the aggravating… “Why’d she even ask me to pick a time then? And does she honestly expect me to get there a half hour before she does?”

Actually…he wouldn’t put it past her.

So. Unbelievably. Weird.

He didn’t want to even think about what his reluctantly growing fascination over her little quirks said about
him
.

“Wow, she really gets your fish frying, doesn’t she?” remarked Skylar, using one of Abby’s trademark sayings with a touch of awe.

A harmless observation with a little too much female insight for his comfort level.

“Cereal and fruits in five minutes,” he muttered and stalked out of her room.

When he heard another chirp followed by a smothered giggle, he just kept right on walking.

It was undoubtedly safer that way.

* * * * *

TESSA PACED around her living room as the ticking clock on her wall got closer and closer to her scheduled “discussion dinner” with Brian. She wasn’t calling it a date; her nerves would never survive the night if she did.

She hadn’t been able to stop replaying the way he’d called out her name down in the ravine. The man was just so distractingly brawny. Bearlike. But gentle. And caring. She’d counted three instances when his protective instincts had overruled all else that day, and his voice had dropped down to this rough, untamed rasp that had her wanting to jump on him and bury her face against his throat so she could drink in all that ruggedness.

A dizzying wave of heat washed over her at the memory.

Geez, she needed to get a grip.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. When her clock hit 5:30, she grabbed her car keys and headed out the door.

She pulled into the lumber yard a short while later, just as the sales office was closing.

“Hey, Frank!” she called out, waving her goodbyes to the workers who were calling it a day.

Frank’s bushy white eyebrows hopped up with delight. “Hey dollface, what’s shakin’?”

“Nothing much. Just thought I’d stop by and drop off your favorite.”

“Hot damn, I was hoping you’d come visit this week. Jackie’s been on a steamed fish kick for days.” He rolled his eyes. “Lucky thing she adores you because these hotdog runs are the only times she lets me cheat.”

Tessa covered up her grin. If only he knew that the ‘hotdog’ he loved so much was really a specialty dog from her favorite hotdog joint, made with extra-lean ground meat, fennel, and a mix of ground eggplant and mushrooms. The only other one in on the secret was Frank’s wife, who purposely never let him go to the hotdog restaurant in question so he’d never know that his one indulgence was actually not all that bad for him.

Frank quickly unwrapped the hotdog, loaded with all the fixings, and took a huge bite.

“Lord, that’s good.”

Smiling, she took her matching order and headed out to the back door.

“Sweets, be sure to keep to the cedar stacks. Hank stacked those. We had the new kid working the forklift today.” He shook his head tiredly. “Lord have mercy. Boy was as cockeyed as they come. Took him all day and the wood still wasn’t lined up straight. Wouldn’t trust any of those stacks to climb on.”

“Got it. Thanks, Frank!” The cedar planks were her favorites anyway, which she suspected was why he always had Hank stack those. “I’ll be down before you leave.”

While cutting across the gigantic lumber yard to the tallest cedar stack, Tessa stuffed the hotdog bag into her new slouch bag—the old one was still in the accessory ICU after her fall the other day—so she’d have her hands free to climb. Though she was still a little achy from her bumps and bruises, the climb was quick-going. And once up on top, she turned in a slow three-sixty to gaze at the landscape all around before settling down in the middle, facing west, to watch the sun start to set.

While most folks she knew loved their tropical paradises or snowy retreats, Tessa had always thought the rough beauty of Arizona at sunset trumped them all. The entire desert canvas painted with the rich, earthy colors that never failed to ground her, and clear skies blasted with vibrant colors spinning the entire color wheel. It was a feast for her eyes to see everything around her become so primitively alive, before drifting off to sleep for the night. The desert just had a rough sort of beauty that had always spoken to her, healed her just as it rejuvenated her in even her toughest times.

And sometimes, when she looked over to her right and the sunlight was hitting just so, she could still see her father and sister sitting right there with her.

God, she missed them.

CHAPTER THREE

AT 7 P.M. ON THE DOT, Tessa walked into the small Italian eatery and found Brian leaning against the wall near the entrance, looking like Johnny Lumberjack with his sexy, golden brown hair and scruffy five o’clock shadow. When he spotted her, he smiled—the first smile he’d ever directed her way, she realized…and she nearly swallowed her tongue.

Didn’t help that those deep, teal blue eyes of his stayed locked on hers, instead of doing that scan-her-body-to-check-out-the-goods thing she was used to from the few blind dates she’d been on.

This wasn’t a date!

Right. She had to remember that.

“Hey, Tessa. You look great. Your wounds healing up okay?”

Oh dammit. Date or not, she was toast.

“They’re fine. Thanks. Just a few bumps and scrapes.”

His hand just barely ghosted over the middle of her back as he stepped to the side and pulled open the door for her. “Thanks for letting me pick the restaurant tonight. I don’t get out to actual restaurants all that much but this is one I’ve always wanted to try. Have you eaten here before?”

“A few times.” After they made their way to the first open table and at least three workers said hello to her, she admitted quietly, “Okay, that’s a lie. Most of the workers who answer the takeout line know me by voice.”

That earned her a low, deep chuckle from him and she felt the air in her lungs getting lost on its way to her brain. Quickly, she flicked her menu up to avoid the possibility of conversation while her brain gasped for the return of oxygen for its malfunctioning neurons.

When the waiter came and addressed her by name, she avoided making direct eye contact with the smile begging to be let loose at the corner of Brian’s mouth.

“I’m still looking,” she fibbed quietly. “You can get his order first.”

After he requested the
pollo carciofi
pasta, she finally put down the menu she’d only been pretending to read. “Could I just get a slice of Nonna’s ricotta pie and a slice of the Tuscan spinach pie?”

When she saw Brian curiously reach for the menu again with a puzzled look, she stopped him and pointed at the chalkboard by the cash register. “Those are the dessert specials this week. I, errr, already ate dinner.”

A mild look of exasperation overtook his features.

Thank goodness, they were back to their status quo.

“You told Skylar you weren’t going to be hungry until seven.”

“I’m usually not,” she defended, picking up her water glass to take a parched sip. “But I seem to be able to eat hotdogs at any time of the day.”

She crunched down on some ice during the awkward pause that followed.

“Do you always give responses that only make sense to you?”

She thought about that for a moment and replied in all seriousness, “More than I intend to, probably. But I also think you bring it out of me more than most for some reason.”

His smile was back again. “Fair enough. Okay, so if I ask you to answer in the form of a complete short essay so I’ll fully understand you, could you tell me what’s with the whole eating a hotdog before meeting me for dinner thing?”

Now she was smiling along with him. He was so darn easy to like, and surprisingly patient considering how easily she seemed to bug the crap out of him.

“Sometimes I hang out at the lumberyard where my dad used to work so I can watch the sunset from the top of the lumber stacks. And when I do, I always drop off a hotdog for my dad’s old boss, Frank. He doesn’t know that it’s actually a low-cal, healthy mostly-veggie dog, which is why he always lights up like a kid on Halloween when I bring it over. Which is why I try and go pretty regularly. And I dunno, I just always automatically bring one for myself too. To keep the tradition alive, I guess.”

She’d noticed Brian’s eyes darken with sympathy when she first mentioned her dad in the past tense, and she mentally prepared herself for the question.

“So did your sister inherit her HD gene from your dad?”

“Yes. His was adult-onset obviously, but Willow’s JHD symptoms started when she was in middle school. Maybe that’s why I’m especially meddlesome in Skylar’s case. Sorry.” And she was, really.

Since the concession seemed to earn her some respect points from him, she opted for full disclosure. “To be clear though, I’m just sorry you’re upset, not sorry that I’m answering all her questions.”

He frowned. “Just when we were starting to get along.”

They quieted as their food arrived, both leaving their plates untouched in an unspoken agreement that they’d get this hammered out first.

The moment the waiter left, Tessa had no problem starting them off. “Abby mentioned you were thinking of doing the testing last year. Why’d you change your mind?”

“Skylar had been showing some symptoms that we thought could be JHD then.
Symptomatic
genetic testing, the doctors and I were on board with. But now that she’s been symptom-free for months, we’ve decided against it.”

“Exactly.
She
didn’t decide. You all did.”

“She’s not old enough to make this decision. I’ve read the studies; the youngest age they typically allow a minor to make this decision is fifteen, if that. She’s just barely thirteen, way too young, too emotionally ill-equipped.”

“Brian, Skylar has questions that need to get answered.”

“By me, or her doctors. Not by you—no offense—or some random websites.”

“At least the websites I directed her to were reliable, accurate, and just as importantly, non-persuasive. You’re fooling yourself if you think she hasn’t been reading up on every single thing about HD and JHD she’s been able to find on the internet.”

That made him pause with what looked like a flash of pained panic before he maintained, “You still had no right to be advising her about genetic testing behind my back, Tessa.”

Okay, she’d give him that. “You’re right. While I think it’s important for Skylar to have someone to talk to and ask questions of beyond her current bubble, it was irresponsible of me not to have checked to be sure that you were at least aware of the situation. I know you’re going through this as much as she is.”

“Now that’s just unfair,” he sighed, leaning back and breaking into one of the dinner rolls at the table. “If you’re going to be logical and respectful for a shocking first, I don’t know how I can keep arguing with you.”

She chuckled. “I have my moments.” Seeing the worry still hiding behind his banter, she reassured him, “I swear, I’m just listening and answering questions. I’m not advising her in any way. I would never steer her in a direction that would be harmful to her, and I think you know that.”

The stubborn man offered no more than an acquiescent half-nod.

“Are you going to fight me on this the entire time?” she asked, trying to hide the smile in her voice. Usually, confrontation was not her thing, but for some reason, the prospect of continuing to face off with Brian sounded
fun.

“Are you going to continue to be a pain in my ass by answering her questions, regardless of what I say?” he returned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I hereby reserve the right to be an obnoxiously overprotective dad about all of this whenever the mood strikes me.”

“So, just to get this recorded on the minutes, basically, we’ve just agreed to keep doing things exactly as we’ve been doing them?”

Breaking out into an amused grin, he conceded, “Yes. Now let’s eat before my food gets cold, and yours gets warm.”

She grinned. Smart-ass.

Enjoying herself more than she’d intended to, more than it was probably advisable to, she grabbed her knife to cut each pie in half lengthwise before taking a bite of first the creamy ricotta pie, and then the spongy, almondy spinach pie.

“So tell me more about your dad,” said Brian, between bites of his chicken and artichokes. “You mentioned a lumberyard. Was he in construction?”

“Yep. Right out of high school, all the way up until he first started showing signs of chorea spasms in his hands. That’s when Frank hired him as the security guard for the lumber yard. The hours were perfect since he and I used to switch off taking care of Willow. And it was a way for him to stay close to the trade.” She smiled softly. “Since Frank rents out construction equipment as well—mostly small excavators, tractors, and things—sometimes, dad would get to work the equipment to check them before and after rentals, or during maintenance. I saw him at it a few times when I went to drop off food for him. I used to love just watching him. It used to make him so happy. He didn’t have a whole lot left to be happy for, so I will always be eternally grateful to Frank for that.”

“Hence the hotdogs,” editorialized Brian.

“That’s right,” she grinned in surprise, “I do believe the hotdog tradition started soon after that. But the lumber stacks at sunset was actually my dad’s tradition. My dad used to take his break around sunset and go sit up on the tallest stack to just watch the view. Once, Willow and I went up there with him. Frank and the guys rigged one of the forklifts so my dad could help Willow up. I still remember how tickled she was to ride the forklift, and how much the three of us had laughed up there. The guys had to bring out the flood lamps to help us down since we’d stayed up there until well after dusk.”

Blinking herself back to the present, she felt the pain come as it always did at the memories. “Not long after she died, it was my dad who got the ride up the forklift to sit beside me.” With a silent breath, she held back the tears she never ever allowed herself to shed. “And now it’s just me up there. No forklift.”