Star Bright (20 page)

“We’re just friends, remember, and friends go dutch.”

After picking up all the newspapers, they exited through the front part of the restaurant with Mojo hidden under Parker’s shirt. Well, sort of hidden. It looked as if he had a lumpy bosom that jiggled when he walked, which set Rainie to laughing. Her face was hot with suppressed mirth by the time they got back in the truck.

“I haven’t had this much fun in I can’t remember when,” she confessed, her mouth still curved in a smile.

“Stick with me, darlin’. I’m more fun than a barrelful of monkeys.” He handed her the puppy and started the truck engine. “Next up, the pet store,” he said. “I don’t have a collar or leash, so we’ll have to carry him while we shop.”

That sounded like a workable plan to Rainie—until Parker made the mistake of putting Mojo down for just a moment to help her find a purple Tasmanian Devil in a display basket. The moment the puppy’s feet touched the pet-store floor, he was off and running.

“Shit!” Parker said under his breath.

And the chase was on. Rainie nearly had a heart attack when she saw Mojo heading straight for a huge male Great Dane. She felt sure the puppy would be killed on the spot. But instead the adult dog suffered the puppy’s tumbling assault with gentle forbearance. The Great Dane’s owner, a slender, middle-aged woman with blond hair, laughed at Mojo’s enthusiastic attempts to make friends.

Before Parker could catch Mojo, the little rascal was off, and Parker was soon cursing under his breath again. Rainie clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw the problem. About ten feet ahead of them, Mojo had squatted to pee. By the time they reached him, a puddle glistened on the tile floor. Parker scooped up the runaway puppy, winked at Rainie, and started humming the Marine Corps anthem as he shuffled his boot in the wetness to spread it thin.

“What are you
doing
?” Rainie whispered.

“They’ll never know,” he assured her with a grin.

“That isn’t
nice
,” she said. “Shouldn’t we clean it up?”

“They’ll mop after closin’. Relax.”

When they checked out, Rainie’s arms were filled with puppy and Parker’s were filled with several toys, a tiny studded collar and leash, spill-proof dishes, and a fake-fur dog bed. The tab was almost two hundred dollars.

“I had no idea puppies could be so expensive,” Rainie observed as they returned to the truck.

“I had no idea they could be so much work. I’m flat tuckered.”

Rainie grinned. “I wish I’d had my phone with me to take a video of you, chasing Mojo up and down the aisles. And the look on your face when he attacked the Great Dane was
priceless
.”

“I figured he was about to be lunch.” He chucked Mojo under the chin. “He’s not afraid of anything. Is he?”

As Rainie cuddled the puppy close to her chest, she found herself wishing she could be as fearless. Everything was an exciting adventure to Mojo.

“I’m glad you talked me into coming,” she confessed.

As dark as burnt umber, Parker’s eyes twinkled over at her. “I’m glad I did, too. It’s been fun.” His mouth twitched at one corner. “But, hey, the day’s not over yet. Next stop is the buildin’-supply place for some steel.”

“You’re tired. You can do that some other day.”

“A cup of your coffee will revive me.” He shifted the truck into reverse to back out of the parking spot. “I’ll sleep better tonight knowin’ you’re safe.”

Seeing where Rainie lived filled Parker with sadness. Though she’d tried to give the place warmth and had done a marvelous job of decorating on what had clearly been a shoestring budget, every room reflected how empty her life was. He saw no photographs of family or friends, no souvenirs from trips that she’d taken, and no keepsakes or heirlooms. It was weird—kind of like a movie set. She’d set a beautiful stage, but there was nothing real about any of it. Until now, Parker hadn’t fully comprehended what it must be like to leave one’s life behind and try to create a new one from scratch. Even his sparsely decorated home had mementos in it to remind him of all the people he loved. He had wedding pictures in almost every room, and candid shots of his family members, their faces aglow with happiness. In his bedroom, he had framed photographs of his mom and dad when they were young, plus images of his siblings at different ages, one of Sammy with a gap-toothed smile being one of his favorites.

Everything in Rainie’s house was secondhand. Her kitchen towels were faded and limp. The throw pillows in the living room were as worn as the threadbare sofa they adorned. He’d known Rainie was in dire financial straits when he met her, but he’d led such an advantaged lifestyle for so many years that the nuts and bolts of poverty were no longer real to him. It bothered him to think that this lady had to scrub her beautiful face with a hand-me-down washcloth and that even her bedsheets had probably been used by someone else.

“It isn’t much,” she said, nervously fingering the tiny buttons on her sweater. “I, um, didn’t have much money to spend.”

“It’s nice.” Parker stopped at a bookcase to touch a gold picture frame that still held a stock photo of a blond little girl in a pink outfit. The picture said it all, namely that this woman was absolutely alone in the world. “Cute kid.”

Her hazel eyes darted to the picture, and two bright spots of color flagged her cheeks. “I don’t have any pictures of my own, and I just needed the feeling of that. I left sort of suddenly.”

“Maybe someday you can go back and get your stuff.”

The pink drained from her cheeks, and her lips went white. “No, that will never be possible.”

Parker wanted to tell her she wouldn’t have to go alone, that he’d be there to protect her, but he decided it would be best to let it go. Instead he went to have a look at her bedroom. Again, he was struck by the stage-set feeling that seemed to bounce off the walls of the colorfully embellished room. Someone else’s handmade quilt served as a bedspread; someone else’s crocheted doilies and dresser scarves camouflaged the nicks and gouges on the rickety dresser and bedside tables. Even the clothes hanging in the closet weren’t her own.

Mojo scampered ahead of Parker to attack the dust ruffle on the bed. Then the puppy turned on the throw rug. Rainie laughed. “I’m glad I don’t have carpets. At least everything on my floors is washable.”

Parker went to examine her windows. They were old, aluminum-framed, with ineffective latch locks. Seeing them made him cringe. Before he left, he intended to make sure she would at least be safe while she slept.

He set up shop on Rainie’s back stoop, which earned him several suspicious looks from her elderly neighbor. Parker just smiled and inclined his head when he saw the lace curtains twitching next door. In only minutes, he’d cut and welded bars to fit over the inside frame of one window and was starting on another set.

“You’re good at this,” Rainie said when she brought him a cup of coffee.

“Lots of practice.” Parker flipped up his welding goggles to take a sip from the earthenware mug she’d handed him. “I did all the upper bars on my stall gates. It’s really pretty simple stuff.” He angled a warning look at her. “Be sure you don’t watch when the flame is on. Okay? It can damage your eyes without protective lenses.”

“I won’t,” she assured him. “I was thinking that I might cook dinner. Do you like meat loaf?”

“I love meat loaf.”

“Then you’ll stay?”

He nodded, set the coffee aside, and resumed his task, which sent her scurrying back indoors. When he had the window bars ready to install and reentered the house, the kitchen smelled fabulous. “You never mentioned that you can cook.”

“Oh, yes. Peter expected gourmet—” She broke off and sent him a startled look.

“It’s okay, Rainie. I’ve always known the man must have a name.”

She quickly averted her face, hiding her worried expression behind the curtain of her curly hair. “I hope you like chocolate cake.”

“What’s not to like about chocolate cake? Just don’t go to a lot of trouble, okay? Unlike good old Peter, I don’t expect gourmet.”

While he installed the bars over her windows, Rainie came in to perch on the edge of the bed. “Thomas must be afraid of men. He’s usually here when I get home.”

“Thomas, the tomcat?” Parker sent her an amused grin.

“Maybe he knows Mojo is here. Cats and dogs don’t always get along.”

She bent to pick up the puppy, who had sunk his teeth into the hem of her skirt. “That could be, I suppose. How long do puppies do this chewy thing?”

“I have no idea. I’m a novice, remember. I imagine it gets better once they’re finished teethin’.” Parker braced his feet to put some muscle into tightening a bolt. “There you are, Rainie mine,” he said as he stepped back to survey his handiwork. “You’ve got bars on your windows.”

She set the puppy aside to come and look. With slender fingertips, she tested the steel. “Oh, Parker, these are fabulous.”

“Well, fabulous is overkill. They need some paint. Will you do them in black or some other color?”

She frowned thoughtfully. “Probably ecru, like the walls, so they won’t be so noticeable.”

“Good plan.” He collected his tools. “Now to reinforce the door.”

Before the sun set that evening, Parker had finished with her bedroom, and Rainie had supper on the table. She felt oddly nervous as he sat down across from her.

“It isn’t exactly Romano’s,” she told him.

“It looks awesome!” He started to reach for the meat loaf, then remembered his hat and cast her a sheepish look. “Sorry.” He removed the Stetson and set it on a chair beside him. Then, as he leaned forward to lift the platter, the table wobbled, slopping wine over the edge of her goblet onto the embroidered tablecloth. “Uh-oh. Damn, honey. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m an expert at removing wine stains.”

He glimpsed a haunted darkness in her eyes just before she glanced away to blot up the spill of crimson. She was such a mystery, this lady. He had understood her sudden pallor when he’d mentioned the possibility of her going back home someday to retrieve her things. But why had she gotten so upset about revealing Peter’s name? And now she was in a dither over a wine spill? Parker suspected it all would make sense once he learned more about her, but for now, he was left trying to connect the dots and couldn’t see a picture forming.

“I’m sorry about the table,” she said. “One leg is bent. The wobble can be bothersome.”

He leaned down to examine the leg. “When supper’s over, I’ll have a look. Maybe I can shore it up on that side with a wedge of steel.”

“That would be great.”

Rainie had shared enough meals with Parker by now to know that he would pray before he started to eat. She waited with her hands folded in her lap, giving thanks for the food in her own way while he crossed himself and murmured his blessing. Afterward, he helped himself to a large serving of meat loaf before passing her the platter. He was so relaxed that Rainie felt the tension easing from her shoulders.

“Oh, man, this is good,” he said, cheek bulging with meat, a fork heaped with mashed potatoes hovering at his lips. “I hired you for the wrong job.”

Rainie laughed, pleased that he was enjoying the meal. “I learned everything from books. This is a pretty simple meal, actually. Sometime I’ll fix you my Tuesday-night special, chicken cordon bleu.”

Parker stopped chewing. “Did you make it for Peter?”

Rainie dropped her gaze to her plate. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d forget his name and never say it again.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She glanced back up. “Yes, I fixed it for him. Why do you ask?”

“Because your eyes looked sad when you said it was your Tuesday-night special.” He took a sip of wine. “I don’t think I want you to make it for me, not if it brings back bad memories. Come up with a new special that you never fixed for . . .” He set the goblet back down. “What did you say his name was, again?”

Rainie laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I can’t remember.”

He winked at her. “Let’s keep it that way.”

For the remainder of the meal, he talked about his childhood, telling her funny stories about the mischief he and his brothers had perpetrated. The silliness helped Rainie to separate herself from the memories of Peter’s rage when she’d gotten her days mixed up and served him chicken cordon bleu on the wrong night. It also distanced her from the time when he’d rubbed her face in the spilled wine. With Parker sitting across from her, those moments seemed to have happened a lifetime ago.

While Rainie was serving dessert, Thomas came home. Mojo, who’d been napping at Parker’s feet, was awakened by the sound of the rubber flap of the pet door opening and closing. The puppy yipped with excitement and made a bee-line for the cat. Thomas bristled and arched his back, clearly ready for battle, but before Mojo could reach him, he avoided the altercation by leaping onto the table. Rainie held her breath, afraid Parker might grow angry. A lot of people didn’t like it when cats jumped up on kitchen surfaces.

But Parker only grinned, reaching out to pet the cat while steadying his wineglass. “So this is Thomas.”

The tomcat was soon curled up on Parker’s lap, purring to beat the band.