Tempt Me Tonight (16 page)

Marjorie waved her hand down through the air. “Oh, pshaw. But when you do”—she sounded slightly dejected now—“you’ll probably have some big-city wedding and won’t even let me do the flowers.”

Trish tilted her head and gave Marjorie a sincere smile. “I’ll make you a promise. When or if I ever get married, wherever it happens, you’re my florist. Okay?”

Marjorie nodded, appeased. “I still want to kill that Debbie for eloping the way she did. I know it was a long time ago, but when she got engaged to Kenny, I got this vision in my head—yellow roses with lots of baby’s breath and sprigs of white alyssum—and it never saw the light of day.”

Trish, for one, had thanked her lucky stars when Debbie and Kenny had eloped to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, since it had meant she didn’t have to walk up an aisle with Joe two short years after she’d left home. Now, though, she couldn’t resist asking, “What do you see for
me?
In wedding flowers?”

“Pink,” Marjorie said without missing a beat. “Very dark pink tulips—a warm, dramatic shade.” Then she waved her palm through the air. “Nothing else. For you, just simple and elegant. A small bouquet—only the tulips, short-stemmed, tied with a thin ribbon the same color.”

Trish tilted her head to one side. She’d never—at least in her adulthood—thought of herself as a woman anyone would associate with pink, but to her surprise, she liked the idea.

“That sounds nice,” she said. Then thought—what the
hell?
She was about as close to getting married as she was to leaping off a bridge. Time to make that perfectly clear. “But I won’t be saying ‘I do’ anytime in the near future. As soon as I get the diner situation under control, I’ll be headed back to Indy and concentrating on making partner in my firm. That’ll mean even more work than I already have, so dating will have to take a back burner.”

Marjorie rolled her eyes. “You know what they say about too much work.”

Trish shrugged. “If I become a dull girl, so be it. I love what I do.”

Marjorie tilted her head, looking speculative. “You know, maybe you could help me with a problem I’m having.”

Trish knew that head tilt—she got it from friends and acquaintances all the time. “A legal issue? Shoot.”

“Well, I have this sweet little dog, Jeremiah. He’s a brown highland terrier-mutt mix, cutest little guy you ever did see. And John Munk, my next-door neighbor, has a mean old German shepherd who he doesn’t keep chained half the time. Well, it was one thing when that dog was just pooping in my yard or barking his fool head off at Jeremiah. But a couple months ago, Munk’s dog barreled into my yard and attacked him!”

Trish gasped. As she’d told Joe, she didn’t have pets due to time constraints, but having grown up on a farm, she still loved animals.

“By the grace of God, Jeremiah survived, and he’s getting back to his normal spunky self now. But it was touch-and-go there for a while, and his vet bills were over seven hundred dollars. I gave Munk the bill, but he refused to pay. So then I took him to small-claims court, but the judge only awarded me fifty bucks.”

Trish narrowed her gaze. This sounded very wrong. “By what reasoning?”

Marjorie’s eyes widened. “Well, are you ready for this? The judge said fifty dollars was the
replacement cost of my dog.
”

Aghast, Trish felt her
own
eyes fly wide.
“What?”

“That’s right. Judge Hanley said the vet bills were unreasonable and that Munk only had to pay me what it would cost me to get a new dog. And since Jeremiah is part mutt, that didn’t amount to much.”

Trish’s jaw dropped. She’d never heard of anything so ludicrous in all her years in law. “My God, Marjorie—that’s a travesty.”

“You’re tellin’ me. You got any advice for me—any way I can get my money out of that rat next door?”

Trish turned it over in her head. She’d originally planned on going home around the end of this week. But if she was seriously going to work on painting the diner and looking for other ways she might spruce it up on her own, that time line was impractical. Staying an additional week made it all sound more feasible. Which made her wonder “How long did it take to get on the docket in small claims after you filed?”

“A couple of weeks, I guess. Why?”

“And how long has it been since the judgment?”

Marjorie tilted her head. “About three weeks.”

Trish certainly hadn’t come here planning to take on anyone’s legal matters, but how could she not help Marjorie? On principle if nothing else. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town, but we could file an appeal. You have thirty days after a judgment to file, so we’re good on the timing. I could represent you. We’d win, I promise.”

A surprised smile unfurled on Marjorie’s slightly wrinkled face. “You’d do that for me, Trish? But…” She winced. “I have to admit, I don’t know how much you big-city lawyers charge—or if I could afford it.”

Trish just shook her head. This wasn’t about money. “This one’s on me. When we win, send me some flowers or something. If you can bring me whatever paperwork you have on the case, I’ll call the courthouse tomorrow and see how soon we can get this scheduled.” If she was lucky, she could apply a bit of pressure and get on the docket next week.

It was only after Marjorie had departed and Trish sat busily scribbling ideas about wall colors and other décor changes, planning a trip to the new Home Depot outside town, that she stopped and thought—
Wait a minute.
How had all this happened? She’d come home to read a contract, visit with her parents, get some papers signed, and head home. Now she was remodeling the diner and appealing a small-claims case? Oh, and she’d had a wild weekend of sex with her first—and if she was honest with herself, only—love.

There for a brief while this afternoon, she’d fooled herself into thinking she was actually getting some things accomplished.

But what it boiled down to was—this trip was still a total disaster.

Washing up his few dinner dishes at the kitchen sink, Joe flashed a wicked grin no one else could see. Did Trish think he was blind? He hoped she was a little slicker in court than she’d been concerning some aspects of their “relationship” so far. Not that he minded her lack of slickness. He’d liked it just fine when he’d spotted her tan Lexus creeping past the garage this afternoon, her eyes turned his way. Debbie had once mentioned in passing that Trish had bought a Lexus, and for a guy who lived and breathed cars, it hadn’t been hard to spot. Nor had her blond hair or searching gaze, even hidden within the confines of the car.

You still want me, too, cupcake. Now I just have to show you how much.

When the phone trilled, he wiped his hands on a dish towel, but knew better than to hope it was Trish. She might have gone driving past his garage when she’d thought he wouldn’t see, yet getting her trust back wasn’t gonna be easy.

“Hello?” He shoved the receiver between his ear and shoulder, turning back to the sink to scour the skillet he’d fried up a hamburger in.

“Hey, it’s me.” Jana.

“Well, lucky me. First a visit, now a phone call.” He didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic, but he didn’t think he’d heard from his sister two days in a row since she’d moved away.

He could practically feel her smirk through the phone before she resumed her merry attitude and said, “I have some great news, Joe! The best news of my life, actually.”

Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good. “What is it?”

She paused, clearly for dramatic effect, then announced, “I’m getting married!”

Aw, Christ. Screw the skillet—he released it into the dishwater and dropped into a chair at the small kitchen table.

“Did you hear me? I’m tying the knot! Saying ‘I do’!”

“To Vinnie, I guess.”

She let out an irritated sigh. “Of course to Vinnie. Who else?”

About anyone he could think of would be better. “Of course,” he said, sounding morose.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

He took a deep breath and forced out the word. “Congratulations.”

“It’s next weekend,” she twittered.

“What is?”

“The wedding!”

Joe about slid off the chair.

“It’s quick, but Vinnie knows a lot of people who can pull a lot of strings.”

“I bet he does.”

She let that go—or was too caught up in bridal fever to hear it. “We’ve rented this great place with a gazebo and lots of wildflowers, and it’s just outside a big hall where we’re having the reception.”

“So this isn’t…a
small
thing.”

“Oh, God no. I wouldn’t stand for a small wedding. Vinnie suggested just going to Vegas, you know”—where there are still mob connections, Joe thought—“but when I told him I wanted a big wedding, he said nothing but the best for me.”

Joe’s mind spun. “Jana…” Hell, he had to ask. “Are you pregnant?”

She gasped. “Good heavens, Joe—of course not!” Spoken like a chaste Catholic schoolgirl—as opposed to a woman who became more glitter-laden and sparsely dressed every time he saw her.

“Then why does this have to happen so fast?” He was trying not to raise his voice, but damn, she made it hard lately.

“We just don’t want to wait, you know? When it’s right, it’s right. And with Vinnie and me, it’s right.” Without pausing for even a breath, she rambled on about the place and the time, adding, “But you’ll get an invitation in the mail in a few days. We’re doing invitations all night tonight. Believe it or not, the rushing is kind of fun. Everybody’s pitching in to help. Brittany, my maid of honor, has the prettiest handwriting, so she’s doing all the envelopes. She took a calligraphy class.”

Brittany? He’d never even
heard
of his sister’s maid of honor. And who was “everybody”? “Have you called Dad?”

He almost felt her eager nod through the phone. “He’s coming up—bringing Marna, too.” Their stepmom, a raspy-voiced chain-smoker who was barely cordial on the rare occasions they saw her. Their dad’s initial departure from their lives, just after their mom’s death, had only heaped more pain on them—yet his subsequent marriage and escape to Florida a few years later had actually been a relief to Joe. “He’s walking me down the aisle, of course.”

Yeah, that makes sense. The guy deserts you when you’re a kid, but he’s walking you down the aisle.
Yet Joe shoved that from his mind—it wasn’t any of his business. “Did he have any…worries? About never having met the guy?”

“I guess not. I just heard him tell Marna to pack a suitcase ’cause they were heading home to see his little girl get married.”

This served as confirmation—although not shocking—that Joe was indeed the only sane Ramsey left. A thought that reminded him his sister would soon be Jana Balducci. Mob moll.

When they hung up a few minutes later, Joe went outside, just to clear his head. Some things never changed. His family had always possessed a certain manic quality and everyone knew it.

As a kid, he’d heard the disparaging tone in people’s voices when they’d mentioned “the Ramseys,” not knowing he was within hearing distance, or maybe just not caring. His parents did things most people in Eden didn’t. Drank. Smoked. Swore. Fought. It had taken a hell of a lot of work to get the smoky smell out of the walls after his parents were gone and his father had agreed to sell him the place. He’d thought of it as a sort of exorcism—purging the house of all the arguments and ugly times.

Of course, it hadn’t been like that
all
the time—in some ways, they’d been a totally normal family with plenty of good, regular days and nights together. Trish had been over to his house a lot in high school and had only once or twice witnessed anyone yelling. But he heard the yelling inside him sometimes. And at moments he thought it was weird that he’d even
wanted
the house and the surrounding acres that had come with it. Yet it was his home, for his whole life, and maybe making it
truly
his had seemed like a chance to make it a…calmer,
saner
place.

Letting out a sigh, he whistled for Elvis—but the dog didn’t come. “Probably gettin’ laid again,” he muttered. He should be so lucky.

About to turn back toward the house, his gaze dropped accidentally to Sunshine and her kittens, still tucked in their cubbyhole next to the shed, nursing—and for some reason it stuck there. He wasn’t the kind of guy who went all soft on a bunch of furry little kittens, but hell—in that moment, he found the sight of them oddly…peaceful. It made sense. It was
sane.

He supposed Trish had provided that same kind of sanity in his life once upon a time. Maybe that was part of why he’d fallen for her. She’d been smart and pretty, but also undeniably…steady, reliable. Her parents were the same way, and everything at the Henderson home had been comfortable…in its place…calm and inviting.

And now Sunshine was giving him that same feeling on a quiet August evening while the horizon turned a hazy shade of purple.

Just then, Elvis came trotting around the house, long ears bouncing and belly hanging low. Joe jerked his gaze to the dog. “About time,” he snapped, then looked toward the garage where he kept the Cobra. He suddenly felt the need to tinker around under the hood a little. “Come on,” he said to the dog. Made a damn sight more sense than cooing over kittens.

On Tuesday morning, Trish exited her parents’ house to find that the weather had changed radically overnight. Whereas Monday had been another balmy August day, Monday night a cold front had shifted down from the Great Lakes to bring a bizarrely early frost. She stood on the porch, looking out as the sun began to melt off the strangely early nip of winter covering “God’s country” with a thin sheen of icy crystals that shimmered in the fog. The very air smelled so different in the country, and weather changes were so much more…apparent, dramatic, spreading across the land in a way you couldn’t avoid seeing.

For Trish’s father, the first frost triggered the last hay cutting of the season since it locked the sugar inside. So on his suggestion—“Wouldn’t want to help your old man out with the hay today, would you?”—she’d changed her plans and stayed home. She could have said no—he’d applied no pressure—but her parents had had her later in life, and her dad was getting on in years. And she’d thought—
How often am I here? How often do I get a chance to help out with family things anymore?