Say You'll Never Love Me (18 page)

He snickered. “You’re not forty, are you?”

She swatted him. “Do I look forty? And you’d better be careful of your answer, if you know what’s good for you.”

He laughed, the same deep mellow tone from before, and he was so adorable, she wanted to hug him.

“How about Fifty Shades of Gray?”

“Padre, you should be ashamed of yourself. Besides, I’ve seen it and don’t understand what all the fuss was about.”

He continued to scroll the selections. “Paul Blart, Mall Cop?”

“No. Go back. Go back. More. More. There. Avatar.”

“Not what I expected. I figured I’d have to suffer through a chick flick.”

She breathed easier. A story about a paraplegic and blue people shouldn’t spark any romantic emotions. She gasped. How could she be so unfeeling? “Oh, I’m sorry. Will it make you uncomfortable because of your brother?”

“Not at all. I just thought you’d go for a love story.”

“Happily-ever-after is unrealistic.”

“I disagree. I know plenty of people with storybook endings.” He wound a lock of her hair around his finger. “You, Miss Starr, have a pessimistic opinion of love.”

“Oh really. Tell me, how many of the couples you’ve married are still together?”

He coughed. “Uh—no way of knowing.”

“Well, I’d bet only half, and of that fifty percent, few are happy.”

“Let’s skip the statistics lesson and start the show.”

The music swelled. Raynie kicked off her shoes, tucked her feet under her hips, and settled back. If he kept messing with her hair, it would be a long night.

With the lights low and no conversation, an hour into the story, Raynie’s eyelids flickered causing misty images to float in and out of her dream state. One minute she watched a falling star, then a sunset where Jared lifted Silbie in the air and spun her. The vision passed, and he stood at home plate, butt swaying, bat cocked over his shoulder, ready to take a swing.

Drifting, she felt the warmth of his arms. His breath on her neck. She snuggled closer, and the world fell away, but someone from far off called.

“Raynie. Raynie. Wake up. It’s over.”

Both eyes popped wide. She sat up and willed her brain back to reality. “Sorry. Must have dozed off.”

“That’s okay, but it’s time to cook.”

“What? I thought it was time to go home.”

“It’s early. Besides, there’s a lot to be said for eating cookies at midnight and if we start now, they’ll be done in time.” Pulling her up with him, he tugged her toward the kitchen, then motioned to a door behind him. “Flour and sugar.” He flipped pages in the cookbook he’d gotten out earlier, tied on an apron, and passed her one. “Next, we need brown sugar, baking soda, salt, and vanilla. I’ll get the butter, eggs, chips and pecans.”

Raynie loaded her arms, and he gathered the rest of the list. “I bet there’s a bakery with cookies as good as homemade. I could do that.”

“And try to fool Silbie? Not a good idea.” He closed the refrigerator and placed his ingredients next to hers, then pointed to a drawer. “Mixer. I’ll get a bowl and preheat the oven.”

She followed his directions. “Sometimes, a little bitty lie is necessary. You know. For someone’s own benefit.”

“So you think some lies are acceptable? I mean, if they aren’t malicious or say someone lied by accident?”

Raynie dipped her head. “Come on, rev. A lie is a lie, but everyone does it. Say I ask you if this outfit makes me look fat? You would never say it did, even if that were true. Right?”

Jared measured flour, then leveled it with a knife. “I’m not judging.”

She flashed a flirty grin. He was super sexy in his
Life is short, lick the bowl,
apron. What was wrong with her? The man was
baking
for goodness sake. It wasn’t like he was on a beach, half-naked, muscles glistening in the sun. She paused a moment to conjure that image. Hot damn. She swallowed hard.
He’s right.
I already have the lie about moving on the books. Probably not good to add another one.

He nodded. “Okay. To summarize. We all lie, but if it isn’t hateful, and it’s done for the greater good, then it can, and should be forgiven. That about sum it up?”

“Yep, that’s what I believe. Will I burn eternally?”

He chuckled and passed the mixer her way. “Cream the butter and sugars together. I figure a ticket to hell has to be for something more serious than a well-intended lie.”

She hovered beaters over the bowl and smiled. “Good to know.”

“Good indeed.”

She fired up the mixer. Jared added the eggs one at a time.

Once everything combined, he dumped in the chips and nuts, then gave her the honor of dropping the batter by dollops onto cookie sheets.

While they waited for the goods to bake, they drank more wine and Jared talked her into more dancing, which was another big mistake. The man drove her crazy. She kept telling herself he wasn’t her type, but her hormones weren’t listening.

When the timer dinged, she retrieved the finished product and admired her work. “That was easier than I thought.”

He gave his dimples center stage. “You had a good teacher.”

She poked his arm. “Yeah. Who would have thunk it? Parson, you are a man of many talents.”

“Before I’m done, I plan to convert you into a chocolate chip junkie.”

Arousal heated deep in the pit of her stomach and traveled downward. If he set his mind to it, he could convince her of anything. “We better clean up and call it a night.”

He took glasses from the cupboard and milk from the fridge. “A good cook always tests the outcome before serving it to anyone else. Follow me.”

Once seated at the table he picked up a cookie and held it to her mouth. She took a big bite. Warm chocolate oozed against her tongue. “Mmm.”

He slid his thumb across her bottom lip. “You have a little right there.”

The slow burn from earlier flamed. She had to get out of there before she lost control. She crammed the last bite into her mouth and washed it down with a gulp. “Yummy. Time to go.” She rose from the chair, walked to the counter and gathered the batch.

Jared followed, put them in a baggie and sealed it.

With her emotions all over the place, the ride home seemed longer than usual. When they finally stood at her front door, Raynie told herself to talk about something. The cool night air. Crickets singing. The neighbor’s dog who came to Raynie’s yard every day to crap. How holding stress in caused constipation. Okay, she was reaching with the last two, but she couldn’t say what she really thought. How his dimples drove her nuts, or how much she wanted to kiss him. She squeezed the bag of cookies harder, then stepped back, but he moved with her. “Since your mom leaves tomorrow, why don’t I bring pizza for dinner?”

“I can’t. With her here, I’ve gotten behind with my readings, and since we have Saturday plans, I need to work.”

If she raised her head a little, their lips would only be inches apart. Heat settled between her legs. Smoke should billow from beneath her skirt. Or at least melt the chocolate in the cookies.

He put his fingers under her chin and tilted it up. She closed her eyes to protect herself from those deep blues. When nothing happened, she eased one lid open. He stared down at her, his expression dark and molten. Things clenched. Tightened. Tingled. Curled. So many emotions at once, her knees gave way.

He slipped a hand around her waist. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Just lost my footing.”

He smiled again, and as he leaned in, she drew a breath and decided to let it happen. She parted her lips in anticipation.

Suddenly, a car from across the street roared to life, peeled from the curb, and the moment was lost. He stared at the space where the vehicle had been.

She touched his arm. “Have you ever gotten the feeling someone was watching you?”

“What?”

“Probably my imagination, but lately—I feel like that and it weirds me out.”

Who needs therapy when you have a cat?

~Ann Everett

IN SPITE OF BEING
upset about Mom’s unexpected visit and the squabble, Raynie hated to see her go. The taxi’s tail-lights barely disappeared when a wave of sadness washed over her with as much force as a tsunami. Last night’s vow not to cry anymore would take more effort.

After loading the dishwasher, she made a to-do list: catch up on reading requests, grocery store for chocolate chips, bake.

By noon, she’d emailed all the tarot results. On a regular day, right now, she’d be with Jared, searching for something to focus on other than his deep dimples, broad shoulders, and kissable lips.

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? That damn almost kiss.
Get control. You’re acting like a lovesick school girl.
She closed her eyes and blocked the thoughts. Cookies. Yeah. Concentrate on those.

Mind clear again, she picked up her purse and headed to the store. As she put the Lexus in reverse, across the street, sat the same silver car. Odd. Or maybe not. No need to let her imagination run wild. Her plate was already full with big helpings of grief, parenthood, counseling, and lust. She should skip the side of paranoia.

At the first red light, a bright pink sign caught her attention. Without thinking, she pulled to the curb, killed the engine and approached the grungy, unshaven man sitting next to a cardboard box. Inside, four of the cutest fuzzy animal babies lay in a tangled heap.

Scruffy man rose from his lawn chair. “I can tell you need a kitten.”

She stooped to pick up a black one. Last year, after caring for Quinn’s cats, Raynie considered getting her own. She’d not thought of that in a while, but a pet would be a distraction, give her a companion, and Silbie would love it. “He’s cute, or is it a girl?”

The man reached for the remaining black kitty and raised its tail. “You have the only boy. The rest are girls. They’re a lot happier if you get a pair. Take two and I’ll throw in a sack of litter.”

“Better not. I don’t even know why I stopped.” Instead of putting the fur ball back with the others, she reached for the girl, and hugged them close. They didn’t squirm, just purred against her as if they belonged there.

“Seven weeks old today. Already eating dry food and box trained. Be a nice surprise for your kids.”

Couldn’t argue with that. Raynie recalled all the conversations she’d had with her friend’s cats. They were good listeners.

“Research shows people with pets live longer.”

Who was this guy? He should be in marketing.

“Great company for single mothers.”

She cocked her head. “What makes you think I’m a single parent?”

“No ring and you didn’t correct me when I mentioned your kids.”

“You’re observant.”

He nodded and gazed past her. “Yeah. Just like I noticed that silver Chevy followed you here.”

She turned to look at the familiar vehicle with the dark windows and decided enough was enough. She’d give the driver a piece of her mind. With kittens in tow, she started toward the car. But before she took three steps, the driver pulled from the curb and raced away.

Returning to the bearded guy, she held the animals toward him.

He threw his hands in the air and stepped back. “Sorry, lady. All sales final. No returns.”

“What? I didn’t agree to take them.”

“You left the sales area, so they’re yours.”

She tried to put them in the box, but he blocked her.

“Hey! You distracted me.”

“Yeah, about that. Attack cats might be what you need. Going through a bad breakup?”

“No, and I don’t think these qualify as bodyguards, but nice try.” She sidestepped, but so did he.

“You wanted by the FBI?”

“No.”

“Having an affair?”

“None of your business, but no.”

“Then why are you being followed?”

A shiver ran up her spine. Valid question. Why would anyone tail her? They wouldn’t. But she was in Celeste’s car, and the resemblance to her sister was uncanny. However, any detective worth their fee should know about the accident. She stepped around Cat Man.

He removed his Red Raider ball cap and ran his fingers through his long blond hair. “Wait. Let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“You take the cats, and I’ll give you the license number of that car so you can check it out.”

Could a regular citizen get that information, or would a call to the LPD be necessary? Was she convinced someone was watching her? Okay. For a while, an eerie feeling had plagued her, but that could be attributed to lots of things. Unfamiliar territory. Adjusting to Celeste’s death. New challenges. All logical reasons to set her nerves on edge.

Distracted by a kitten licking her finger, she stared at them. They were precious and Silbie would be overjoyed. If there was one thing Raynie was sure of, it was bringing happiness into her niece’s life. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ll take them.”

Even though the guy was a point below her trashy taste in men, he had a certain charm. “Let me get that litter and number.”

She opened the trunk of her car, and he laid the kitty litter inside, took a pen from his pocket, and jotted the plate number on the sack. “Thanks a lot.”