by Mary Campisi
“Well, since we’re sharing secrets, I’ll tell you one nobody else knows. A few weeks ago, I got my walking papers and a six-month non-compete reminder. The company was sold and apparently my name is too closely associated with Her Lips du Jour to transition to the new firm.”
“Her Lips du Jour? The women with the shiny red lips?”
She smiled. “Red is our signature color. Super sexy. Super shiny. Super pricey. That’s us, or it was. Now it’s just them.”
His gaze slid to the pink stain on the rim of her coffee mug. “I’ve always been more of a pink man myself.” His voice turned soft and sensual when he asked, “So, when exactly do you head back to Virginia?”
Tess looked at him, offered a hint of a smile, and said, “No idea. Just considering my options.”
Chapter 9
At 2:15 P.M., Pop poured two glasses of lemonade and carried them onto the back deck, the very same spot where he’d had a sit-down with Tess just yesterday. What a sweet girl, but she had a hurting heart and a sadness in her soul that Pop figured had a lot to do with her ex-fiancé. If Pop had anything to say about it, and he usually had a lot to say about what went on in town, the ex in ex-fiancé would be erased soon enough, leaving only fiancé and then husband.
The reason behind the ache in Tess Carrick’s heart was coming soon for a chit-chat and a glass of lemonade. Years ago, when the days were hot and sticky, Cash used to stop by on his way to work and Lucy would fill a thermos of lemonade for him. A baggie of pizzelles, too. She sure did have a soft spot for that boy, said he had eyes like a chocolate bar and a smile that could make a girl melt. When the tragedy occurred, Lucy prayed for Cash and Tess to reconcile and later, when it was obvious that would not happen, she’d simply prayed for the boy’s safety and his eventual return.
Pop made his way back to the kitchen and arranged a few pizzelles on a paper plate. Word had it the boy was thin as a stick and Lucy would curse Pop to high heaven if he didn’t do his part to fatten him up a bit. “I’ll take care of him, Lucy. Don’t you worry. I got lots cookin’ and I don’t mean food.” He smiled at the portrait of his wife hanging over the mantel. Those blue eyes of hers smiled back at him. “I’ll do you proud. You’ll see. I’ll get Cash and Tess back together, no matter what fancy footwork I have to use to do it.” He tapped his high-top-sneakered feet twice and murmured, “You just wait and see.”
When Cash arrived a short while later, Pop had to agree with the “thin as a stick” comment. The Cash from eight years ago had muscles that rippled under his T-shirt and along his forearms. This one looked like a lean piece of meat cut close to the bone. “We got to fatten you up, boy.” He hugged Cash and shook his head. “You sure are a sight. All thin and rangy-looking.” He grinned and said, “But you’re still a looker. My Lucy always said you could melt a girl’s britches with those eyes.”
Cash coughed and turned the color of a beet. “Lucy said that?”
Pop shrugged. “What? You think senior citizens can’t appreciate a fine-looking person?” He winked. “Sure can, and I’ll do you one better.” He leaned forward, whispered, “There’s those that do more than appreciate. There’s those that act on that appreciation.” Oh, but the beet color turned deeper.
“Pop, please. Spare the visual.”
Pop laughed and ushered Cash toward the deck and a rocking chair. “I’m just saying, it happens.” He slid a look at the boy. “Even middle-aged widows who have been alone for a long time might catch an interest in an eligible widower.” He paused. “Happens all the time; probably right under our noses. Don’t you think?”
Cash sat down and rubbed his jaw. “You mean Will and Olivia Carrick?”
“Huh? I didn’t say that, but now that you bring it up, wouldn’t that be convenient? No need to change out towels or last names.” He plopped in his rocker and nodded. “Now that’s what I call sensible.”
“We’ll see. I don’t picture Olivia Carrick letting any man share much more than a meal.”
“Hmm. I been breathing this air a lot longer than you, and I’ve seen things I never thought would happen, and then they did. Have some lemonade. Lucy’s recipe.” He gestured to one of the tall glasses, picked up the other, and took a healthy sip. “No one in this whole town would have ever pinned Nate and Christine Desantro as the perfect match.” He slapped his knee and laughed. “Talk about fireworks. I thought somebody was gonna have to bring a fire extinguisher when those two got within forty feet of each other. But then, in between the anger and the hurt over Charlie Blacksworth, something happened.” His voice dipped, softened. “Lily was a big part of it. Here she was, half-sister to Nate and Christine, and she loved them both so much her little heart burst open and shared that love. Lily made people see what was really important in life and she helped those two realize they didn’t need to be enemies. And once that happened, well, there was another kind of fireworks—the kind that don’t need extinguishing.”
Cash bit into a pizzelle, chewed. “I know you didn’t call me here to tell me about Nate and his bride. You’ve got a message tied up in there somewhere, just like you always do.”
Smart boy. “You think so?” Pop sipped his lemonade and waited.
“Yup. This reminds me of the time you heard I was racing down Black Jack road. You told me to ‘get my tail over here’ before you called Will.” Cash laughed. “I was scared you were going to tell him and then I wouldn’t be allowed to see…”
Aha! “Tess.”
“Right.” The boy pushed her name out as if it weighed three hundred pounds. “Tess.”
“She visited me yesterday.”
Cash shot him a glance. “Did she now?”
Pop nodded. “Sure did. She looked about as queasy as you do right now when I mentioned your name.” He lifted the plate of pizzelles and said, “Have another.” Pop waited until Cash took one before he continued, “The heart is a strange creature. It loves, it hates, it hopes. It forgives. Nobody else is gonna serve this to you straight up, so here goes. No matter what happened in the past, what you did or she didn’t do, nothing can change that. All you got is now and you don’t know for how long. I see two broken souls, afraid to trust or care again, and sure as heck afraid to love again, but dang if they aren’t hurting for each other. While you still got breath in you, there’s a chance.” His voice shifted as he thought of his dear Lucy. “No matter how hard it is or what you got to do, figure it out.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Oh, there was some serious hurt in those words. “Never is. Maybe I got it all wrong; maybe you can walk away from Tess Carrick and never think about her again, never wonder what she’s doing or wish you were doing it with her. My apologies if I was wrong.” He nibbled on a pizzelle and nodded. “But if that girl lives in your soul and you’re getting indigestion just thinking about being without her, then you got to do something about it. Talk. Talk again. Make her a batch of pizzelles; that always worked for Lucy.” Pop leaned forward and placed a hand on Cash’s arm. “You and Tess belong together and before I leave this earth, I aim to see you together.”
***
Less than twenty-four hours after Pop Benito’s “trust your heart” talk, Nate called and extended a dinner invitation at his house. He casually mentioned that Tess had been invited, too. What he didn’t say was whether or not Tess had accepted. Typical Nate. You had to pry information from the man and if it had to do with emotions, you better bring some heavy equipment to unearth that information.
Was the whole damn town orchestrating his reunion with Tess? Bad enough Pop had given Cash the soft lecture about going after the woman he couldn’t forget, but who else was in on it? The Bleeding Hearts Society? Will Carrick? Christine Desantro and now, even Nate? At least he could count on Ramona to stay out of his business, though if she said anything on the subject, it would be an attempt to steer him away from Tess. His aunt blamed her for Cash’s leaving and for the coldness in his heart. He guessed she’d been right on both accounts, but w
hat would she think if she knew Tess Carrick might be the only one who could warm his heart? Maybe the only one who could make him stay in Magdalena, too?
Could he trust Tess again? Give her another chance like Pop said? Would Tess want that? He hated the indecision; it put him in a foul mood, and yet, whatever might or might not happen between them, could not be rushed. Not even for Pop Benito and his many followers.
Cash accepted the dinner invitation because he wanted to meet the woman who had made Nate Desantro human. She must be quite a woman to achieve that feat. People probably said the same thing about him, and no doubt, they inserted Tess’s name in the “quite a woman” slot. He had another reason for accepting the dinner invitation; it was a chance to see Tess.
He could deny and complain and get angry, but he wanted to see her again. That thought didn’t sit well, but so what? Nothing much in his life was sitting well at the moment; why not one more aggravation? And while he was making himself miserable, why not call Tess and offer to drive? If she were going, that was, and something told him she wanted to see the reformed Nate Desantro….and maybe she wanted to see Cash, too. Before he could overthink the situation, he picked up the phone and called her. There’d been a breathiness in her voice when she spoke, as if she were pleased to hear from him. The breathiness spread when he offered to pick her up and drive to the Desantros’ if she were going, which she was.
And now, here they were, traveling in Will’s new pickup toward Nate and Christine Desantros’. Cash had picked up a bottle of wine and Tess held a bouquet of flowers on her lap. He’d worn the new jeans Ramona had insisted on buying him and a navy polo. No worries about being underdressed with someone like Nate. The man was all about comfortable and casual, which made marriage to a Blacksworth such an unusual match. From what Cash remembered, Charlie Blacksworth was loaded. He guessed you just never knew…
“I’m curious to see what Nate cooked.”
Tess’s voice covered him with its soft silkiness, doing unwelcome things to his groin. “Nate?”
She laughed. “He’s the cook in the house.”
“Damn, the guy cooks and is crazy about his wife. Next you’ll tell me he changes diapers, too.”
“I think he does.”
“Who would have thought it?”
“Is it really that hard to believe Nate’s a good husband?”
Cash turned up the Desantro drive and said, “It’s hard to believe the guy’s a husband at all.”
“Well, I think we’re about to witness true marital bliss.”
He parked the truck and grabbed the bottle of wine, then glanced at Tess. The sun filtered through the trees, casting a glow about her face that shimmered like an angel. His angel…his beautiful angel… “Tess,” he breathed and leaned toward her…
“Welcome!”
Cash jerked away and turned toward the door of the cabin. “Husband of the Year” stood on the porch, a smile on his face, and damn it, a baby on his shoulder. “Hey, Nate.” Cash opened the truck door and moved toward Tess’s side, but she hopped out before he could get to her, sending him a shy smile and then moving toward the cabin.
“Nate! It’s so good to see you.” She extended her hand and smiled up at him.
Nate grinned and pulled her against him in a quick hug, careful not to disrupt the sleeping baby in his left arm. “How are you, Tess?”
“I’m great. It’s been a long time.” She darted a glance at the baby. “Who’s this?”
Nate’s voice softened. “Anna.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
Cash thrust a hand toward Nate and said, “I heard some sick rumors about you cooking. Back in the day, you only made hot dogs and boxed mashed potatoes, and that was a challenge.”
Nate raised a brow. “Don’t tell my wife. She thinks I was born with a spatula in one hand and a frying pan in the other. Speaking of Christine, we better get inside before she burns the rolls.”
Christine Blacksworth Desantro possessed a mix of beauty, intelligence, and class that made Cash wonder how the hell she’d fallen for Nate. But as he watched them together, the absent-minded touches, the lingering gazes, the compliments and smiles, he figured it out. Christine made Nate a better man, and he cherished the hell out of her. Cash guessed their relationship was built on a solid foundation of trust, respect, and forgiveness. And love, couldn’t forget the obvious.
He glanced at Tess who was laughing at some story Christine and Nate had been telling her. Her blond hair shimmered under the soft lights just as it had in the truck, seconds before he leaned forward to kiss her…and didn’t, thanks to Nate and his poor timing. It probably would have been a mistake to kiss her so soon anyway, because damn it, he couldn’t get his head around what he felt for her or what was going on between them. Or what he wanted to go on.
And that was really screwing him up. He guessed the real question might be did he want a relationship like Nate and Christine’s, which led to more questions. Was he willing to do what he needed to, as in open up and share what was going on his head? What guy willingly did that? None that Cash knew. But it sure as hell looked like that was part of the recipe. Damn.
When Tess looked at him, he almost felt like the man he’d been eight years ago: full of ambition and plans and a boatload of dreams. Could he ever feel that way again? And what about her? She’d done more than sell lipstick these past several years. He’d seen it in her eyes. There was something she wasn’t telling him, something sad and lonely. Something she regretted. Well, he had regrets, too, and demons that visited him at night. If they were going to build anything, they had to pull out the demons and own up to them. That meant Cash would have to admit the real reason he left the force. He bolted down the rest of his wine and pushed away the thought. Not happening. Not now, maybe not ever.
“Nate, do you give cooking lessons?” Tess forked a piece of pork tenderloin. “Everything is delicious. What’s in the mashed potatoes?”
“Garlic.” He smiled. “I put that in just about everything but dessert. There’s sour cream in there, too, but my wife prefers a heart-healthy version, so I substitute Greek yogurt.”
Cash scowled and refilled his wine glass. “Aren’t you just the little homemaker?”
Nate’s lips twitched. “I can give you a few lessons, if you like. We’ll start slow. Scrambled eggs and toast first, then we’ll work up to hamburgers.” There was no mistaking the humor in his words—at Cash’s expense—when he added, “Anna will wake up soon and I can show you how to change a diaper, too.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll pass on that one. Ramona plans to keep my fridge and freezer stocked, so I’m good there, too.”
“Huh.”
That always meant something, even if there weren’t any words attached. Nate had a way of attaching great significance to a sound, but Cash wasn’t biting this time.
Unfortunately, Tess was.
“Nate? What are you thinking?”
Damn, here it comes.
“My mother’s a good cook, too, but that doesn’t mean I want to depend on her to eat. Or,” he cast a glance at Christine and smiled, “have her intrude on my privacy. I wouldn’t want her traipsing in with beef stew or a container of spaghetti sauce. Not that she would, but I like boundaries.” He turned to Tess. “How are you in the kitchen?”
What the hell was he trying to do? Why not just ask if she planned to move in and make Cash his meals for the next thirty-two years because that’s what he meant. Hell yes, that’s exactly what Nate Desantro meant and that calm expression wasn’t fooling anybody, certainly not Tess.
She blushed and stammered, “I’m not very skilled in the kitchen.”
Thank God Christine jumped in. “Well, I’m horrible. Really bad.” She laughed. “I did make the rolls and there’s not a scorch on them.” She laid a hand on her husband’s forearm. “Of course, they came from the refrigerated section of Sal’s, but I didn’t have to use the back-up supply. That’s a start, isn’t it, Nate?”
/> His voice dipped, turned softer than the butter on one of his wife’s rolls. “Yes, sweetheart, that’s a start.”
Cash looked away. Bad enough he had to hear what a great guy his old friend was; he did not have to witness it, too. Maybe he should just concentrate on the wine and block out the rest. A few more glasses should make him mellow enough that he wouldn’t care what happened. Why did the sight and sound of a couple in love put him in such a foul mood? Nate and Christine deserved to be together, deserved to be happy. What was his issue?
Apparently Nate wondered the same thing because he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses and led Cash onto the deck while Tess and Christine cleared the table. The early evening sky had shifted to a pink-gray with the last rays of sunlight slipping behind the pine trees. Cash had missed the quietness of a small town. No sirens, no honking horns, no shouting. Nothing but crickets, birds, and his own thoughts.
Nate poured two shots, handed one to Cash, and saluted him before downing his drink. Cash threw back his shot, welcoming the burn as it traveled from his throat to his belly.
“Want to tell me what the hell that was about in there?”
Yup, Nate had noticed. Cash shrugged. “What?”
“Come on. You spent half the night practicing your sarcasm and the other half scowling into your wine glass. What’s going on?”
Cash stared at the fire pit several feet away. He bet Nate and Christine sat out here at night, sharing conversation and dreams. “Nothing.”
“You’re jealous.”
Cash swung around, stared at Nate in the semidarkness. “Of what?”
Nate shrugged, refilled their glasses. “Me and Christine. That we’re happy, that we found each other.”
“That is such a bunch of bullshit.” Cash downed his shot and set the glass on the railing. “I’m glad you’re not miserable anymore. And I’m glad she’s the one for you. Hell, I’m friggin’ glad you have a kid together and that you could get past the whole Charlie Blacksworth thing.”
