WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Viva La Valentine Edition (27 page)

“Of course not. I had other boyfriends.”

As she crossed to the stove to fill the bowl
with potatoes, she asked, “But was he the first man you loved?”

Her mom peered at her before she turned her
attention back to the gravy bubbling on the stove. “I always knew
your Dad was the one for me. Right from the moment I laid eyes on
him.”

The deep rumble of Dane’s voice drifted into
the kitchen and Amanda felt her stomach dip, then rebalance. The
image of him towering over her when he’d caught her as she’d
tumbled from the car, broad shouldered and strong, crawled into her
thoughts and stayed. “How did you know?”

“Honey, what’s this about?”

She set the bowl of potatoes aside, took the
spoon from her mom’s hand, and stirred the gravy. “Nothing, just
curious about you and Dad.”

Her mom turned off the burner, poured the
gravy into the gravy bowl, and handed it to Amanda. “Why don’t you
call everyone to the table? We’re ready to eat.”

Amanda carried the gravy bowl into the dining
room and set it on the table. “Supper’s ready.”

Her dad glanced her way. His cheeks turned
ruddy and he directed his attention to seating everyone at the
table. Amanda found herself next to Dane. He leaned toward her and
whispered, “I composed a special Valentine’s note for you.”

She felt his hand on her knee, warm and firm
and familiar. And when she looked down, he was sliding the note up
her thigh, sending a rush of breath-stealing tingles toward the
center of her body —

She grabbed his wrist, tugged the note from
his hand, and met his gaze. He grinned at her, and the ever present
laughter twinkled in his eyes.

Across from them, Grandma set the urn down on
the table, then sat in the chair Morty held out for her.

Amanda’s mom sighed. “Elvira, can’t you leave
Dad’s ashes in your room for just one meal?”

Grandma reached out and caressed the urn. “He
won’t be with us much longer. Morty and I found a lovely spot
today, so we can finally put him to rest.”

Grandpa’s image popped up behind them,
startling Amanda into nearly dropping the bowl she’d just picked
up. “Putting me out with the trash, she means. Look how she fusses
over the bastard.”

Amanda saw her grandma cutting Morty’s meat.
The older woman froze and sniffed the air. “There it is again. Is
someone wearing George’s aftershave?”

When all three men answered in the negative,
Grandma resumed cutting Morty’s food, her concentration fierce.

“Used to cut my meat for me. Thought it was
because she loved me, but now I know the truth. She’ll do it for
anyone who buys her an engagement ring.” Grandpa folded his arms
over his chest and glared at the back of Morty’s head. “Fricking
bastard, fricking bastard, fricking bastard.”

Dane elbowed Amanda in the ribs, drawing her
attention. “Are you going to keep those potatoes all to yourself or
share them with the rest of us?”

She shoved the bowl into his hands and picked
up the note. Across the table, Morty grinned at Elvira and she gave
him a weak smile back. Grandpa reached for Morty’s unused knife,
slid it off the table without anyone noticing, and held it over
Morty. “Make her stop or I swear, I’ll stab the bastard in the
back.”

Amanda jumped to her feet, crushing Dane’s
note in her hand. “No.”

The table went silent, and while everyone
stared at her, she watched Grandpa mime stabbing Morty in the back
before he floated away with the knife still in his hand. He plopped
onto a chair in the corner and proceeded to sulk.

Grandma leaned forward and glared at her.
“What’s the matter with you?”

Amanda sat back down, embarrassed and annoyed
and worried about her grandpa. “Doesn’t Morty know how to cut his
own meat?”

“Of course he does, dear, but it makes me
feel useful again.”

“Well, stop it. Grandpa doesn’t like it and
he’s getting….” She slumped on her chair and looked at the various
expressions of the people around the table. Disbelief. Anger.
Dismay. Yep. They all thought she was crazy. Or rude. Didn’t much
matter as long as she kept Grandpa from killing Morty. She sighed
and looked Grandma square in the eye. “He thought you cut his meat
because you loved him.”

With her expression set in stone, Grandma set
the knife down beside Morty’s plate and pushed back her chair. As
she stood, she grabbed the urn, lifted it into her arms, and hugged
it to her chest. “You’re just being ugly and I won’t stand for
it.”

As Grandma stomped away, Amanda looked at
Morty. “Sorry. It was something I had to do before someone got
hurt.”

He picked up his fork, put a piece of meat
into his mouth, then slid back his chair and stood up. “I better go
talk to her.”

As he left the room, Grandpa floated out
after him, thankfully without the knife in his hand.

Amanda glanced from her mom to her dad, then
met Dane’s gaze. “I know it was rude and I’m truly sorry.”

Her mom pushed back her chair and stood up.
“Well, I guess supper is over. Tom, help me clear off the
dishes.”

“Mom —”

Her mom stamped her foot on the hardwood
floor. “No, enough of your nonsense. I know your grandma getting
married is difficult for you. You haven’t had time to get used to
it, like the rest of us. But whether you like it or not, the
wedding is happening tomorrow.”

Her dad poked at a piece of ham with his fork
and watched Dora stomp out to the kitchen. With a sigh, he pushed
to his feet and started to gather plates. “A man could starve in
this joint.”

And like her mom, he stomped out to the
kitchen.

Silence enveloped the dining room, until
finally Amanda found the nerve to look at Dane. “Oops.”

He sat back, arms folded across his chest.
“What was that all about?”

How did she tell him about her grandpa? She
shrugged, and stuffed her hands into her pockets where she found
Dane’s crumpled note. Pulling it out, she smoothed the paper out
against the table. “What’s the occasion?”

He pushed back his chair and stood up,
shuttering his gaze with a sweep of his lashes. “I should get
going. Thank your mom for supper, will you?”

“But you haven’t even touched your
plate.”

“Like everyone else, I’ve lost my
appetite.”

Amanda didn’t say a word until he’d pulled on
his jacket and boots.

“The least you could do is take me with you,”
she grumbled but he ignored her and walked out of the house.

When he was gone, she turned over the paper
and stared at the words he’d written.

Dear Mandy. Be my Valentine Grinch
Forever.

Five

The next morning, while her parents drove
Grandma and Morty downtown to pick up the wedding attire, Amanda
marched across the street and pounded on Dane’s front door.

Valentine Grinch?

Forever?

It didn’t matter how sweet he was, no way was
she cleaning the wedding car alone.

The image of her parents making out in the
backseat refused to go away. Her dad’s naked butt.His hands on her
mom’s naked breasts.The ecstasy on their faces. The yellow can of
whipping cream on the dash.

Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, leaned one
shoulder against the door, and pounded on the wood again. “Damn it,
Dane, open up.”

He opened the door, wearing nothing more than
water droplets on his chest and a towel around his hips. He shoved
a cup of steaming coffee into her hands and started to close the
door in her face. “Go away.”

He was pissed, she noticed, which made her
kind of sad. They’d been friends too long to ruin it now over her
grandpa’s threat to haunt her for the rest of her life. Before he
slammed the door in her face, she shoved her booted foot into the
opening. “I’m not going near the garage without you.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before
you tried to ruin our grandparents’ wedding.”

“I didn’t try to ruin their wedding.” She
shouldered her way inside, determined to gain his forgiveness, and
set the coffee cup on the ledge near the door. “Quit pouting.”

He closed the door behind her. “I’m not
pouting.”

“Then what would you call this pissy mood
you’re in?” She studied him, fresh from the shower, his hair still
wet, his nipples pebbled from the outside temperature. A bead of
water ran down his chest, over his washboard abs, and headed south
toward the towel. A pleasant flush started deep in her mid-section
and spread.

He chucked her under the chin, and she raised
her gaze past all that delicious male anatomy until she finally
looked into his face and blinked.

“Up here, princess.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. If you go away, I promise to be
there in fifteen minutes.”

He turned away and headed for the bathroom,
whipping the towel off before he was even halfway there, giving her
some shock and awe to cover up the other shocking memory of her
parents. Now, if she really wanted to erase the bad images, maybe
she could get him naked in her mom’s car.

She slipped off her boots and followed him
down the hallway to the bathroom door. Leaning one shoulder against
the door jamb, she watched as he pulled on jeans over his boxer
shorts.

When he noticed her in the doorway, he
frowned, his jeans unzipped, his chest still bare, looking like a
yummy half-dressed centerfold shot. “Are you still here?”

Amanda dragged her attention from his abs and
chest, and knew she wouldn’t be able to think coherently until he
covered them both with a shirt. She smoothed out the note in her
hand and held it up so he could see. “You better show up, Dane,
because if you don’t, I’ll hunt you down so we can talk about
this.”

She pushed away from the door jamb, retraced
her steps to the front door, and grabbed the coffee cup.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he called
out after her, his voice tight, controlled. “I just thought your
grinchness would get a kick out of it.”

Amanda slipped her feet into the boots and
headed back across the street to the garage.

She didn’t want to think about her parents in
the backseat of the car, not right now while her mind was filled
with images of Dane. Images that went back to their childhood.
She’d always felt right when she was with him, content,
fulfilled.

Special.

Un-grinch-like.

She entered the garage and glanced at her
mom’s car. Images of Dane and her in the front seat filled her
thoughts. What a great way to ruin their friendship. Or would it?
“What am I going to do?”

“About what, bumpkin?”

She jumped. Coffee sloshed out of the cup and
ran down the front of her jacket. She brushed the liquid away and
yelled, “Don’t do that.”

Grandpa floated around the car and stopped in
front of workbench to examine the wedding decorations. “Do
what?”

She huffed out a sigh. “Sneak up on me.”

“I don’t sneak.”

“You’re a ghost. It’s not like you come
through the door like a normal person.” Amanda noticed the glum
expression on his face. “What’s up, Grandpa?”

“Ah, bumpkin, love hurts.” He sighed, heavy
and sad, his expression shadowed with grief as he poked through the
decorations. “I miss my life. I miss my wife.”

Amanda closed the distance between them and
carefully moved the decorations out of his reach. “Grandma misses
you, too.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s marrying that bastard
Morty and she’s forgotten all about me.”

“Not true. Look how she carries your urn
around all the time.”

“Only because she wants to put me six feet
under.”

Amanda felt her heart break. Softly she said,
“It’s time, Grandpa. She needs to move on.”

He plopped down on the stool. “She’s my one
true love.”

“She loved you first, before she loved Morty.
Isn’t that good enough?”

“If she marries Morty, I’ll lose her
forever.” He clenched his hands at his sides and surged to his
feet, until he towered over her and she stepped back. “You
promised, bumpkin. You promised to stop the wedding.”

“But you had her for fifty-five years.”

A noise at the side door caught her attention
and she turned to see Dane in the doorway, his face in shadows.

“Who’re you talking to?”

“Just myself.” Amanda forced a smile. “I
didn’t expect you to show up.”

“I promised you, didn’t I?” The furnace in
the garage clicked on, and Dane stepped out of the cold and closed
the door.

“Tell him the truth about love, bumpkin.”
Grandpa flicked on the radio and an old time melody drifted through
the tiny speakers. “You die and get discarded with the trash.”

Dane tugged off his jacket, tossed it on the
clean surface of the workbench, and picked up the radio to examine
it. “Must have a short.”

Amanda glanced at her grandpa, who had
started to dance around the room to the melody, his arms lifted to
encircle an imaginary woman. His steps were smooth, and for the
first time ever, she noticed how handsome he must have been in his
younger days. How could Grandma love Morty more than she loved the
man she married?

Her attention turned back to Dane, who was
focused on the radio as he searched for a loose wire. She studied
his face, the crows feet around his eyes, the smile lines around
his mouth, the strong masculine angles belonging to a face she’d
known forever.

Could they be both friends and lovers? Or
would that destroy the special bond they shared?

He set down the radio and turned back to her.
“I can’t see anything wrong with the radio. Better tell your dad to
get a new one.”

He flicked off the radio button.

Grandpa reached out and turned it back
on.

Dane stared at it for a moment, then reached
out and unplugged the portable unit from the wall.

Grandpa plunked down on the stool, which
caused the legs to scrap against the floor. “I need some
entertainment to take my mind off Elvira’s wedding.”