Can't Hurry Love

by Melinda Curtis

  “Yeah. Um, Dawanda from the fudge shop. They’re all part of the Ladies’ Day Out group. I got a text earlier in the week telling me they were bringing lunch.”

  “Well, I’ll get out of your guys’ hair,” he said, backpedaling toward the door.

  She grabbed his hand, holding it until he met her gaze. “Wait. You don’t need to leave. I want you here.”

  Paris grimaced. “Family mealtime has never really been my strong point.”

  Lacy continued to hold his hand. She wanted to show the women outside that she could find a guy on her own. She didn’t need FishInTheSea.com. She also wanted to show them this new side of herself that seemed to take hold when she was with Paris. “They’re harmless, I promise. Please stay.”

  Paris shifted on his feet, and she was pretty sure he was going to turn down the invitation. “You didn’t take no for an answer when you wanted me to teach the computer class at the library,” he finally said. “I’m guessing the same would be true now, huh?”

  She grinned. “That’s right.”

  “You’re a hard woman to resist.”

  “Then stop trying,” she said, going to answer the door.

  * * *

  The spread on Lacy’s table was fit for a Thanksgiving dinner by Paris’s standards. Not that he had much experience with holidays and family gatherings. He’d had many a holiday meal with a fast-food bag containing a burger, fries, and a small toy.

  “I would’ve brought Denny if I’d known that men were allowed at lunch today,” Mrs. Shaw said, speaking of her husband. She seemed friendly enough, but Paris also didn’t miss the scrutinizing looks she was giving him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He was dressed in dark colors and had tattoos on both arms. He also had a motorcycle parked in the driveway. He probably wasn’t the kind of guy Mrs. Shaw would have imagined her sweet librarian daughter with.

  “Good thing you didn’t bring Dad,” Lacy’s sister Birdie said. “He would’ve grilled Paris mercilessly.”

  “Paris and I aren’t dating,” Lacy reiterated for the tenth time since she’d welcomed the women into her home. She slid her gaze to look at Paris, and he saw the question in her eyes. Are we? When the ladies had come through the front door, they’d all immediately began calling him Lacy’s secret boyfriend.

  “Sounds like I’d be in trouble if you and I did get together,” Paris said. “Your dad sounds strict.”

  Lacy laughed softly. “Notice that my sisters and I are all still single. There’s a reason for that.”

  Lacy’s other sister, Rose, snorted. “Dad crashed my high school prom when I didn’t come home by curfew. Who has a curfew on prom night?” Rose slid her fork into a pile of macaroni and cheese. “I thought I’d never forgive Dad for that. I liked that guy too.”

  “What was his name again?” Mrs. Shaw asked.

  Rose looked up, her eyes squinting as she seemed to think. “I can’t remember. Brent maybe. Bryce? Could’ve been Bryan.”

  “You couldn’t have liked him too much if you can’t remember his name,” Mrs. Shaw pointed out.

  Everyone at the table laughed.

  “Don’t you worry, Rose,” Dawanda said, seated beside Mrs. Shaw. “I’ve read your cappuccino, and you have someone very special coming your way. I saw it in the foam.”

  “Well, I’ll be sure to keep him away from my dad until the wedding,” Rose said sarcastically, making everyone chuckle again.

  Whereas some read tea leaves, Dawanda read images formed in the foam of a cappuccino. She’d done a reading for Paris last Christmas. Oddly enough, Dawanda had told him he was the only one whose fortune she couldn’t read. Dawanda had assured him it wasn’t that he was going to fall off a cliff or anything. His future was just up in the air. He had shut his heart off to dreaming of a life anywhere or with anyone.

  He didn’t exactly believe in fortune-telling, but she was spot-on with that. Some people just weren’t cut out for forever homes and families. He guessed he was one of them.

  “Dad’s first question any time he meets any of our dates is ‘What are your intentions with my girl?’” Rose said, impersonating a man’s deep voice.

  “He actually said that while sharpening his pocketknife for a date I brought home in college,” Birdie said. “I didn’t mind because I didn’t like the guy too much, but what if I had?”

  “Then you would’ve been out of luck,” Lacy said on a laugh.

  The conversation continued, and then Mrs. Shaw looked across the table at Paris. “So, Paris,” she said, her eyes narrowing, “tell us about yourself. Did you grow up around here?”

  Paris looked up from his lunch. “I spent a little time in Sweetwater Springs growing up. Some in Wild Blossom Bluffs. My parents moved around a lot.”

  “Oh? For their jobs? Military maybe?” she asked.

  Paris shifted. Ex-felons weren’t allowed to join the military. “Not exactly. I was in foster care here for a while.”

  “Foster care?” Mrs. Shaw’s lips rounded in a little O. “That must’ve been hard for a young child.”

  Paris focused his attention back on his food. “I guess I didn’t really know any different. Most of the places I landed were nice enough.” And there’d been somewhere he’d wished he could stay. Six months with the Jenson family was the longest amount of time he’d ever gotten to stay. It was just enough time to bond with his foster parents and to feel the loss of them to his core when he was placed back with his real parents.

  He picked up his fork and stabbed at a piece of chicken.

  “And what brought you back to Sweetwater Springs? If I recall, you moved here last year, right?” Dawanda asked. “You came into my shop while you were staying at the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast.”

  Paris swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat. He didn’t really want to answer that question either. He looked around the table, his gaze finally landing on Lacy. “Well, I guess I decided to come back here after my divorce.”

  Lacy’s lips parted.

  Had he forgotten to mention that little detail to her? When he was with Lacy, he forgot all about those lonely years in Florida. All he could think about was the moment he was in, and the ones that would follow.

  “That sounds rough as well,” Mrs. Shaw said.

  Paris shrugged, feeling weighed down by the truth. “Well, those things are in the rearview mirror now.” He tried to offer a lighter tone of voice, but all the women looked crestfallen. Mrs. Shaw had already seemed wary of him, but now she appeared even more so.

  “And since my husband isn’t here to ask”—Mrs. Shaw folded her hands in front of her on the table—“what are your intentions with my daughter?”

  “Mom!” Lacy set her fork down. “Paris and I aren’t even dating.” She looked over at him. “I mean, we went on a date last night. Two if you count that night at the park.”

  “Last night?” Birdie asked.

  All the women’s eyes widened.

  “It wasn’t like that.” Lacy looked flustered. “We didn’t spend the night together.”

  Mrs. Shaw’s jaw dropped open, and Lacy’s face turned a deep crimson.

  Guilt curled in Paris’s stomach. Lacy was trying her best to prove herself to everyone around her. Now her family and Dawanda were gawking at her like she’d lost her mind. It was crazy to think that she and Paris would be dating. Sophie Daniels had told him at the boutique that opposites attract, but he and Lacy had led very different lives.

  “Sounds like you’re dating to me. Are you going to go out again?” Rose asked.

  “Well, Paris offered to go with me to my reunion,” Lacy said.

  Mrs. Shaw’s smile returned. “Oh, I’m so glad you decided to go! That’s wonderful, dear. I want all those bullies to see that you are strong and beautiful, smart and funny, interesting—”

  “Mom,” Lacy said, cutting her off, “you might be a little partial.”

  “But she’s right,” Paris said, unable to help himself.

  Lacy turned
to look at him, and something pinched in his chest. He’d tried to keep things strictly friendly with her, but he’d failed miserably. What was he going to do now? He didn’t want a relationship, but if they continued to spend time together, she would.

  “So, Paris, how did you get our Lacy to agree to go to this reunion of hers?” Mrs. Shaw asked. “She was so dead set on not attending.”

  “Actually, Lace made that decision on her own,” he said.

  “Lace?” Both Birdie and Rose asked in unison.

  The nickname had just rolled off his tongue, but it fit. Lace was delicate and beautiful, accentuated by holes that one might think made it more fragile. It was strong, just like the woman sitting next to him. She was stronger than she even knew.

  “Well, I’m glad she’s changed her mind. High school was such a rough time for our Lacy,” Mrs. Shaw said. “I want her to go and have a good time and show those bullies who treated her so badly that they didn’t break her.”

  Paris glanced over at Lacy. He wanted her old classmates to see the same thing.

  Mrs. Shaw pointed a finger at Paris, gaining his attention. “But if you take her, it won’t be on the back of that motorcycle in the driveway. Lacy doesn’t ride those things.”

  “Actually, Mom, I rode on the back of it with Paris two days ago.”

  Mrs. Shaw looked horrified.

  “Maybe he’ll let me drive it next time,” Lacy added, making all the women at the table look surprised.

  “Lacy rode on the back of your bike?” Birdie asked Paris. “This is not our sister. What have you done with the real Lacy Shaw?”

  He looked over at the woman in question. The real Lacy was sitting right beside him. He saw her, even if no one else did. And the last thing he wanted to do was walk away from her, which was why he needed to do just that.

  * * *

  An hour later, Lacy closed her front door as her guests left and leaned against it, exhaling softly.

  “Your mom and sisters are great,” Paris said, standing a couple of feet away from her. “Your aunt too.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “You almost sound serious about that.”

  “Well, I’m not going to lie. They were a little overwhelming.”

  “A little?” Lacy grinned. “And they were subdued today. They’re usually worse.”

  Paris shoved his hands in his pockets. “They love you. Can’t fault them for that.”

  The way he was looking at her made her breath catch. Was he going to kiss her again?

  “I guess not.”

  “They want what’s best for you,” he continued. Then he looked away. “And, uh, I’m not sure that’s me, Lace.”

  She straightened at the sudden shift in his tone of voice. “What?”

  He ran a hand over his hair. “When we were eating just now, I realized that being your date might not be doing you any favors. Or me.”

  “Wait, you’re not going to the reunion with me anymore?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I just think it’d be better if you went with someone else.”

  “I don’t have anyone else,” she protested, her heart beating fast. “The reunion is in less than a week. I have my dress, and you have a matching shirt. And you’re the one I want to go with. I don’t even care about the reunion. I just want to be with you.”

  He looked down for a moment. “You heard me talking to your family. I’ve lived a different life than you. I’m an ex-foster kid. My parents are felons.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t even make a marriage work.”

  “Those things are in the past, Paris. I don’t care about any of that.”

  He met her gaze again. “But I do. Call me selfish, but I don’t want to want you. I don’t want to want things that I know I’ll never have. It’s not in the cappuccino for me, Lacy.” His expression was pained. “I really want you to believe me when I say it’s not you, it’s me.”

  Her eyes and throat burned, and she wondered if she felt worse for herself or for him. He obviously had issues, but who didn’t? One thing she’d learned since high school was that no one’s life was perfect. Her flaws were just obvious back then because of the back brace.

  She’d also learned that you couldn’t make someone feel differently than they did. The only feelings you could control were your own. The old Lacy never stood up for herself. She let people trample on her and her feelings. But she’d changed. She was the new Lacy now.

  She lifted her eyes to meet Paris’s and swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. “If that’s the way you feel, then I think you should go.”

  Chapter Seven

  On Monday afternoon, Paris looked out over the roomful of students. Everyone had their eyes on their screens and were learning to Skype. But his attention was on the librarian on the other side of the building.

  When he’d driven to the library, he’d lectured himself on why he needed to back away from Lacy Shaw. Sunday’s lunch had made that crystal clear in his mind. She was smart and beautiful, the kind of woman who valued family. Paris had no idea what it even meant to have a family. He couldn’t be the kind of guy she needed.

  Luckily, Lacy hadn’t even been at the counter when he’d walked in and continued toward the computer room. She was probably hell-bent on avoiding him. For the best.

  “Does everyone think they can go home and Skype now?” Paris asked the class.

  “I can, but no one I know will know how to Skype with me,” Greta said.

  Janice Murphy nodded beside her.

  “Well, you could all exchange information and Skype with each other,” Paris suggested.

  “Can we Skype with you?” Alice asked.

  Warmness spread through his chest. “Anytime, Alice.”

  “Can I Skype you if my wife doesn’t want to talk to me?” Mr. Jenson asked. “To practice so I’m ready when she does?”

  Paris felt a little sad for the older man. When Paris had been a boy in their home, they’d been the happiest of couples. “Of course. If I’m home and free, I’ll always make time to Skype with any one of you,” he told the group, meaning it. They’d had only a few classes, but he loved the eclectic bunch in this room.

  When class was over, he walked over to Mr. Jenson. “I can give you a ride home if you want.”

  Mr. Jenson gave him an assessing stare. “If you think I’m climbing on the back of that bike of yours, you’re crazy.”

  Paris chuckled. “I drove my truck today. It’ll save you a walk. I have the afternoon free too. I can take you by the nursing home facility to see Mrs. Jenson if you want. I’m sure she’d be happy to see you.”

  Mr. Jenson continued to stare at him. “Why would you do that? I know I’m not that fun to be around.”

  Paris clapped a gentle hand on Mr. Jenson’s back. “That’s not true. I kind of like being around you.” He always had. “And I could use some company today. Agreeing would actually be doing me a favor.”

  “I don’t do favors,” the older man said. “But my legs are kind of hurting, thanks to the chairs in there. So walking home would be a pain.”

  Paris felt relieved as Mr. Jenson relented. “What about visiting Mrs. Jenson? I’ll stay in the truck while you go in, and take as long as you like.” Paris patted his laptop bag. “I have my computer, so I can work while I wait.”

  Mr. Jenson begrudgingly agreed and even smiled a little bit. “Thank you.”

  Paris led Mr. Jenson into his truck and started the short drive toward Sweetwater Nursing Facility.

  “She sometimes tells me to leave as soon as I get there,” Mr. Jenson said as they drove.

  “Why is that?”

  Mr. Jenson shrugged. “She says she doesn’t want me to see her that way.”

  Paris still wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with Mrs. Jenson. “What way?”

  “Oh, you know. Her emotions are as unstable as her walking these days. That’s why she’s not home with me. She’s not the same Nancy I fell in love with, but she’s still the woman I love. I’ll al
ways love her, no matter how things change.”

  “That’s what love is, isn’t it?” Paris asked.

  Mr. Jenson turned to look out the passenger side window as they rode. “We never had any kids of our own. We fostered a few, and that was as close as we ever got to having a family.”

  Paris swallowed painfully.

  “There was one boy who was different. We would’ve kept him. We bonded and loved him as our own.”

  Paris glanced over. Was Mr. Jenson talking about him? Probably not, but Paris couldn’t help hoping that he was. “What happened?”

  “We wanted to raise him as part of our family, but it didn’t work out that way. He went back to his real parents, which I suppose is always best. I lost him, and now, most days, I’ve lost my wife too. That’s what love is. Painful.”

  Paris parked and looked over. “Well, maybe today will be different. Whatever happens, I’ll be in the truck waiting for you.”

  Mr. Jenson looked over and chuckled, but Paris could tell by the gleam in his eyes that he appreciated the sentiment. He stepped out of the truck and dipped his head to look at Paris in the driver’s seat. “Some consolation prize.”

  * * *

  Two nights later, Lacy sat in her living room with a handful of the Ladies’ Day Out members. They’d been waiting for her in the driveway when she’d gotten home from the library and were here for an intervention of sorts.

  “Sandwiches?” Greta asked, her face twisting with displeasure.

  “Well, when you don’t tell someone that you’re coming, you get PB&J.” Lacy plopped onto the couch beside Birdie, who had no doubt called everyone here.

  “You took your online profile down,” Birdie said, reaching for her own sandwich.

  “Of course I did. I’m not interested in dating right now.”

  “You sure looked interested in Paris Montgomery,” Dawanda said, sitting across from them. “And you two looked so good together. What happened?”

  All the women turned to face Lacy.

  She shrugged. “My family happened. No offense. You all behaved—mostly,” she told her mom and sisters. “We just decided it’d be best to part ways sooner rather than later.”