Tempt Me Tonight (37 page)

Then her dad smiled. “We could listen to Hank Williams and George Jones while we eat.”

And suddenly, her parents seemed at peace with the changes—Trish supposed it had just taken a few minutes to sink in. Or that taking home the jukebox somehow provided the closure they needed to let the diner go.

After driving them home and eating a Sunday dinner of pork chops, baked beans, and cornbread, Trish changed into shorts to head back to…the
café—
no longer the diner. Of course, there wasn’t much left to do—the whole place was painted from top to bottom, the booths were back in place, and tables now dotted the previously wasted floor space. Bold new curtains draped the windows and the old gold paint had been chipped off the glass. The counter, display case, and kitchen were spotless, and the old menu boards had been taken down, the bare place on the wall just waiting for a new one.

So she supposed she’d come here just to think…and feel.

She ran a Coke from the fountain and sat down in a plum-colored booth, facing the front window, peering out at the empty storefront across the street. Sherry McClain, a friend of Marjorie’s, had come by a few days ago to say she was considering opening a scrapbook store there, and that her mother-in-law might take the smaller shop next to it—Mother McClain’s lifelong dream was to open a yarn store called Knit Wits. Sherry seemed to think turning the diner into a café would be a big draw for the specialty shops popping up on Main, and inside, Trish beamed.

Staring out at Main Street now, the wheels in her mind began to spin. Perhaps all the shop owners could start working
together
—they could host a Christmas walk some Saturday in December, offering free cookies and punch, playing Christmas music in each store. Heck, maybe it if went well, she could talk the town council into starting a new tradition, a holiday parade or something. Of course, that meant she’d have to get
involved
in the town council. But after some of the things she’d wrung from witnesses, and even judges, winning over a small town council should be cake.

Come April, they could hold a Spring stroll. She could give away a free seed packet to everyone who came in. And maybe even Hamler’s Hardware, the last remaining business from the old days, could get into the spirit—they sold plenty of gardening equipment.

Just then, the door opened and a clean-cut teenage boy stepped in. “Trish Henderson?”

She nodded, surprised. “Yes, that’s me.”

That’s when she realized he was holding a clear glass vase, and from the top sprouted…dark pink tulips.

After the delivery boy departed, Trish sat down to read the attached note.

Trish,

Jeremiah and I can’t thank you enough. It’s so good to have you back in town, and you’re doing great things with your parents’ place. I know you have a job to get back to, but we’ll miss you around here. Wish you could stay. You sure made a difference for me and Jeremiah. Every time I see these tulips, I think about you.

Marjorie

Trish let out a thoughtful sigh.

Not three hours ago, she’d asked God for a sign.

Pink tulips could be a sign.

Of course, she’d
asked
Marjorie to send her flowers if they won the case. And she knew Marjorie had these tulips in mind for her wedding, so she realized she was stretching it to believe—

But wait. Maybe
that
was the sign. Flowers for her wedding.

Delivered to her.

Sitting right in front of her.

Making her envision walking down the aisle to Joe someday.

She had to stop, catch her breath.

Walking down the aisle to Joe.
The picture in her head made her dizzy, a little shaky—but in a good way.

Oh God, she’d become
such
an untrusting person. Because of one thing that had happened a million years ago.

And she had to
stop.
Just like Joe had said she
had
to forgive him. Now she
had
to stop distrusting people, expecting them to hurt her. She
had
to quit fearing
Joe
would hurt her. She had to trust him. Believe in him. Finally. All the way.

Standing up, she walked to the back of the café. And then she realized…she was thinking of it as
her
café. She envisioned the muffins and scones and danishes in the display cases, then lifted her gaze to where she would soon place colorful menus.

Wow. She was doing this? Really doing it?

Giving up her shot at partner in Indianapolis’s most prestigious legal firm?

Running a café?

Coming home to Joe?

“Yes,” she said aloud to no one but herself. “I’m really doing this. I’m really doing it.”

And then she started to laugh, the kind of laughter that might have sounded slightly crazed if anyone else had been around—but she didn’t care. Because she felt…
happy. Free. Excited. In love.

“Holy crap,” she said at the realization, then laughed again, plopping into a yellow booth.

Part of her wanted to pick up the phone and call Debbie. Or drive home and share the news with her mom and dad. But she knew in her heart that she needed to tell Joe first. And she knew just how she was going to do it.

He wanted more of her inner biker chick?

He was going to get it.

She was in the mood for a cupcake—and not the cake kind.

Joe sat in his truck at the Burger Barn, eating a deluxe burger and fries, trying to clear his head. The last twenty-four hours had him reeling—yesterday had been so packed with good and bad that he could barely sort it out. His sister was a stripper. He’d told Trish his darkest secret and she still cared for him. And damn—then he’d asked her to stay.

He hadn’t planned it—but he’d meant it. He didn’t want her to go. And he loved her. Still. Always.

Part of him didn’t think she’d say yes—but he held out hope simply because of the way she clung to him every time they were close, moving together. No other woman had ever held him that way, so tight, warm, desperate. No other woman had ever
needed
him as much as he felt Trish needing him when he was inside her.

Just then, the passenger door opened and Carissa climbed in.

His heart went a little warm just seeing her. “Hey, Care Bear, what’s goin’ on?”

“Grandpa and me are having lunch. I saw you over here, so thought I’d say hi.”

Joe glanced inside the small octagonal building at the center of the lot and spotted Willie at the counter. “So,” he said, “how was the dance?”

Her smile stretched from ear to dainty ear. “The dress was the bomb. Everybody loved it! And when Justin came to the door, I could tell he thought I looked hot.”

Hot, huh? Not exactly what Joe was hoping for, but he tried not to let that show. “Then you had a good time? Did he behave himself? Or do I need to kick his ass?”

She rolled her eyes as if he were crazy. “He was totally nice, Joe.”

“Promise?”

Another even more exaggerated eye roll. “Yes, already.”

After that, Carissa regaled him with details of all the teenage drama that could take place at a dance—one of her friends had broken up with a guy and it was “tragic!” and another girl had cried when the heel snapped off her shoe. Joe did a lot of nodding and trying to pretend he was engrossed, but when she finally took off to eat with her Grandpa, he realized that just talking to her for awhile had made him feel more relaxed than when he’d arrived.

That afternoon, he mowed the yard, fed the cats, took a shower, and hung out on the front porch swing with Elvis, who curled up at his feet. He considered calling Trish, but decided to give her some time. He wasn’t gonna pressure her—he only wanted her to stay if she really wanted to.

About the time he was going to pull a frozen dinner from the freezer, Kenny called, and Joe found himself over at Kenny and Debbie’s for chicken on the grill. They ate on the small deck that he and Kenny had built onto the back of the house a few summers ago, and as soon as the two boys finished their dinner and took to the yard with a baseball and gloves, he heard himself telling his friends he’d asked Trish to stay.

He thought Debbie’s eyes would pop out of her head, and Kenny’s jaw dropped to the table as he said, “Bud, you work fast.”

Which is when Debbie hopped to her feet. “I’m gonna go call her.”

But Joe grabbed her by one wrist and Kenny by the other before she could get away. Joe said, “I totally forgot who I was confiding in here or I would have kept my big mouth shut. Deb, please, if
ever
in your life you wanted to help me out—don’t call her. Okay?”

Debbie appeared totally deflated, but sat back down, parking her chin dejectedly in her fist.

“And don’t do it after I leave, either,” he said, pointing a finger at her.

“You take the fun out of everything.”

“Trish wouldn’t agree,” he said matter-of-factly.

Then Debbie pushed up her glasses and smiled. “God, I hope she stays. Just think—we could have cookouts, and parties, and big family dinners, and…”

Joe just let her ramble on—and tried not to think about how nice it sounded.

And then he went home…and waited for something to happen.

Trish felt positively adolescent as she left the house in jeans and a tee, claiming that the shopping bag in her hand contained clothes she’d borrowed from Debbie. In reality, the bag contained her inner biker chick—the whole ensemble she’d worn to seduce Joe that very first night. She was going to change in the car. And she knew it was silly, but also a necessity—no matter how old you are, you don’t let your parents see you walk out of the house looking like a prostitute. No, you only let the man of your dreams see you like that—and that’s exactly what she was going to do. Give Joe his biker chick fantasy, and then give them both a new reality by telling him she was going to come home, run Trish’s Tea Room and Café, and be with him.

Night had fallen, which made changing in the car easier even if still challenging. She drove behind a neighbor’s barn and made the transition into bad girl—then felt a giddy little smile grow on her face as she pulled back out onto the winding country road, headed to Joe’s.

She’d have expected to be nervous about this on some level—not the sex, but the decision. Yet she didn’t feel nervous at all. She simply knew it was right.

Joe sat munching potato chips, watching an old Bill Murray movie on cable, and wondering what Trish was doing—when the doorbell rang.

It had to be her.

Of course, maybe she hadn’t made up her mind yet—maybe she was just coming over.

Still, his heart beat a little too fast as he muted the TV with a click of the remote, set his chips on the coffee table, and rose to get the door.

Drawing in a deep breath, he grabbed the knob and pulled it open—to find Beverly standing on his porch in her Waffle House uniform. Christ. “Bev,” he said, taken aback.

Her face looked drawn, tense. “Can I come in, Joe? I need to talk to you.”

Shit. Was something wrong with Carissa? He stepped back and let her inside. She’d never come here before, and he’d always appreciated that she had the sense to respect his boundaries—but if something had happened to Carissa, that was different. “Is it Carissa?”

She let out a heavy breath, meeting his eyes as the screen door fell shut behind her. “Yes,” she said. “And no.”

Hell. “What does
that
mean?”

She walked around him, moving toward the couch, finally turning back to face him. “Joe, you’re so good to her.”

He leaned forward slightly. “And?”

“And…she needs a father, Joe.”

He shook his head slightly. What the hell? “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Bev. I do the best I can, under the weird circumstances.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting, as she reached out to grab both his hands. “Of course, I know you do. You’re wonderful to her, Joe. It’s only that…”

Okay, now he was starting to get pissed. He pulled his hands away. “What’s going on, Bev?”

She pursed her lips, almost looking sheepish—but not quite. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this, Joe—about you, and Carissa, and about
me.
We’re missing out. We’re…wasting time. We could be happy, Joe—the
three
of us.”

Aw, shit.
“Bev,”
he chided her. “My God. Are you serious?” She’d come to put the moves on him?

“Of course I’m serious. I love you, Joe. I always have. And I know you love Carissa and she loves you. But the one thing I’ve always wanted to give her that I can’t, more than anything else, is a normal family. You and I could give her that, together—and we could be happy.” Slowly, her voice dropped to something sultry, more seductive than he’d ever heard from her. “I could make you happy, Joe—just let me try.”

He could’ve turned her down in a million different ways, but he figured it would be most effective to keep it simple. “Bev, I’ve been seeing Trish. And it’s serious.”

Resentment flared instantly in her eyes. “That girl will never give you what you need—she doesn’t want the same things you do.” Then her voice softened—back to seduction. “But
I
can give you what you need. I can be a wife. A mother. A lover. I can be a
hell
of a lover, Joe. Let me show you how good I can make you feel.” With that, she reached up to yank at the front of her uniform blouse, opening it swiftly to the waist. She wore a black lace bra underneath, and she stepped toward him, pressing her hands to his chest.

Joe grabbed her wrists, eased her back. “Bev,” he said through slightly gritted teeth, “this isn’t gonna happen. Ever. Why can’t you get that?”

But she still peered up at him, sex in her eyes, lips pouty and anxious. “Because it makes so much sense, you and me. Just one night, Joe. Give me just one night to show you I can make you happy.”

“It takes more than sex to make me happy. It takes Trish.”

He hadn’t exactly planned to say that last part, but there it was. Other parts of his life were satisfying—but Trish fulfilled him in a way nothing else ever had.

He released Bev’s wrists so she would leave. “Button up,” he said.