by Debbie Mason
“Okay, let me rephrase that—anyone who knows you.” He stepped toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. It’ll all be over at ten tonight, and things will go back to normal.”
He was right. The primary was today.
“It better,” she said, ignoring the depressing weight that settled in her chest. As much as she didn’t want to be in the mayoral race, she didn’t know if she could take things going back to normal. The normal where she stayed in her pajamas and in her bedroom reading and streaming series TV and movies. A normal where Connor didn’t stop by with doughnuts and flowers and to tease and hold her and make her believe life might one day be worth living again.
She didn’t like the way his eyes narrowed as they searched her face. He saw too much, knew her too well. She stepped away from him, forcing a smile. “You’d better get those flowers in the vase before they wilt. Glamma will love them, by the way.”
He opened the drawer. “Where is she?”
“Getting ready. She started an hour ago. We should make it to the polling station by eleven.”
He laughed. “Babe, it’s nine thirty. Dad’s picking us up at ten.”
“Don’t tell me—he ordered a limo, didn’t he?” When he began cutting the stem of an orchid without answering her, she said, “Connor.”
“Make up your mind. Do you want to know or don’t you?”
She sighed. “Glamma will be thrilled, but I can’t imagine your uncle and mother will be.” She inched the doughnut box toward her, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“No doubt Dad will get exactly the reaction from them that he’s hoping for.” He glanced at her with a grin. “Do you really think I can’t see the box moving across the island? You can take one without admitting defeat, you know. We already made up. You forgave me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, pulling the box the rest of the way. She opened the lid, practically drooling as she lifted out a honey cruller. Raising it to her mouth, she closed her eyes in anticipation of her first bite. The doughnut disappeared from her fingers. Her eyes snapped open. “Connor!”
“What? It was a peace offering, and you just said you don’t forgive me.” He took a bite of the cruller. She couldn’t look away. It shouldn’t be sexy, but it was. She was jealous of the doughnut. Connor’s lips curved as he finished the cruller, put a finger in his mouth and then slowly withdrew it only to do the same to the next. She lifted her gaze to his, saw a glint of amusement and something more, desire and heat.
Did he see the same emotions reflected in her eyes? The feelings were so strong she didn’t know how he’d not notice.
“Arianna,” he said, the need she saw in his eyes evident in the deep, seductive rumble of his voice.
No matter how much she wanted to be seduced by him in that moment, she couldn’t allow him to get close to her. If she did, she wouldn’t have the strength to push him away. She’d fall for him. She was halfway there. But her heart was stitched together with the finest of threads. She’d never survive another loss.
If Connor managed to do the impossible and convince her to give them a chance, she’d have no choice but to tell him why she’d gone back to her office the night of the fire. He’d never be able to forgive her once he knew. She couldn’t bear to see hate and condemnation in his eyes when he looked at her.
“I can’t,” she blurted, and stepped back.
She saw a touch of hurt in his expression before he smoothed it away. “Sure you can. Say, ‘Connor, I forgive you. I know you were just trying to help,’” he said, pretending he didn’t know she’d been responding to the want and need in his eyes or her own desire. He reached into the box and held up a chocolate-dipped doughnut with sprinkles.
“I forgive you. Despite your annoying habit of thinking you know what’s best for everyone, your heart is in the right place.” She smiled and reached for the doughnut.
He held it away from her. “Other hand.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”
“Yeah, but like you said, my heart’s in the right place. The only way you’re going to regain the use of your hand is if you use it.” He waved the doughnut at her. “Come on, you can do it. I know you can.”
With her lips pressed tightly together, she held his gaze, and while doing so, she reached into the doughnut box and pulled out another cruller. “You have no idea what I can and can’t do,” she said, taking a ginormous bite of the doughnut.
“You’re as stubborn as you always were. Sneaky too.” He scowled and took a bite of the chocolate-dipped doughnut. “Umm, so good. You have no idea what you’re missing.” His reflexes were quicker, and he snagged the last two chocolate-dipped doughnuts from the box. “You might have had a chance if you’d used both hands.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“You’re as obnoxious as you always were. Controlling and bossy too.”
“The two of you sound like children,” her grandmother said as she strolled into the kitchen in her bathrobe. “Have you seen my cigarettes?”
“No, I haven’t, Glamma.”
Connor raised an eyebrow as if to say Arianna was a hypocrite. No longer able to pretend Helen didn’t have issues with her memory, Arianna had decided to take her grandmother’s health in hand. Last night, just as Arianna had been throwing out Helen’s cigarettes, Connor had walked into the kitchen. Arianna didn’t care. Cigarettes depleted oxygen to the brain, and Glamma’s brain needed all the oxygen it could get. After doing a little research online, Arianna discovered that video games, exercise, and a Mediterranean diet had proven beneficial. The next step was to get Glamma to a doctor to see if medication would help. So far she’d refused to go.
Connor would no doubt say she and her grandmother were two of a kind. He’d be right, with one small and significant difference. Her grandmother was losing her mind; Arianna wasn’t.
She ignored him and returned her attention to her grandmother, who had her face in the flowers. “Connor brought you the flowers, Glamma. Would you like to take them to your room? That way you can enjoy them while you put on your Primary-Day suit. You know, the one we picked out last night? It should be lying on your chair, with your shoes and accessories.”
“I’m not deaf or slow, Arianna.” Glamma rolled her eyes and said to Connor, “She thinks I’ve forgotten it’s the primary. She lays out my clothes like I’m a toddler now. Next she’ll be mashing my food. I wouldn’t be surprised if she threw out my cigarettes.” She stretched up on her toes to kiss Connor’s cheek. “They’re beautiful, my boy. Thank you.”
“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady. And don’t be upset with Arianna. She’s just trying to help. She has a good heart.”
Arianna rolled her eyes at his attempt to make his point.
“You two have the eye roll down to a science.” He laughed before saying to her grandmother, “I don’t want to rush you, Helen, but—”
“Glamma,” her grandmother corrected.
With an I told you so look at Arianna, Connor said, “The limo will be here to pick us up in twenty minutes, Glamma.”
“Why in heaven’s name didn’t you tell me earlier? Arianna, wipe the sugar off your face and get dressed. Put some makeup on while you’re at it. You look like death.”
“She looks beautiful.”
“You don’t have to defend me,” Arianna said, embarrassment putting a bite in her voice. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing, Glamma? This is a perfectly lovely black suit.”
“For an eighty-year-old going to a funeral. And don’t bother denying it. I wore that suit to the last funeral, and you pilfered it from my closet.”
“I borrowed it.”
“Because all you’ve got is pajamas and loungewear. I have a Chanel and a Carolina Herrera that would be beautiful on you. They just need to be taken in. There’s a sewing machine in the back of my closet. It’ll take you no time at all.”
Arianna turned on Connor. “You’re behind thi
s, aren’t you? You’ve gotten Glamma on board with your plan to force me to use my hand. Well, I have news for both of you. It won’t work!” She reached for the coffee mug, and it slipped from her useless grip to smash on the floor. She didn’t look at either of them as she strode from the room. “I’m not up to going out today.”
She hadn’t been in her room more than five minutes when there was a knock on the door. “Arianna, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Go ahead.” She lay curled on her right side. He could talk all he wanted. It didn’t mean she’d listen.
The door opened.
“I didn’t say to come in.” She closed her eyes.
“I asked if I could talk to you. You clearly said go ahead.”
“I meant through the door.” The mattress dipped. She smelled doughnuts and fresh coffee. “Say what you came to say, Connor.”
“Can you look at me, please?”
No. It was bad enough she could smell him, hear him, feel him. It didn’t seem to matter how mad she was at him; his presence had the power to make her ignore the voice of reason in her head. The voice that said no one was as dangerous to her broken heart as the man who’d just wrapped his big hand gently around her smaller one. “Helen told me why she wants you to get better, Arianna. It has nothing to do with me. I never said anything to her about getting you to use your hand.”
“She never mentioned it before now. You were at Mrs. Ranger’s last week. You heard her say I was a crip—”
He placed a finger on her lips. “Don’t. Don’t ever let me hear you refer to yourself as that.”
Whether she said it or not didn’t make it any less true. She murmured “fine” against his finger, knowing he wouldn’t remove it otherwise or he’d just argue with her. As she well knew, the man was very good at arguing and making his case. Her ex used to say Connor was the best fixer in the business. He’d certainly fixed her, legally speaking.
Connor removed his finger from her lips when she opened her eyes. Two chocolate-dipped doughnuts with sprinkles and a coffee mug sat on her bedside table. She kept her gaze there instead of on him when she asked, “So if it wasn’t you, why does she all of a sudden want me to get better?”
His fingers found hers again. She looked down at their joined hands and then lifted her gaze to his face.
“Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She didn’t want him to say the words out loud. She knew the answer by the sympathy in his eyes. It was only a matter of time before Arianna would be all alone.
“You should come. Wear what you have on. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“She’s right. I look like an eighty-year-old going to a funeral.” She slid her hand from his and awkwardly maneuvered herself into an upright position.
“I wouldn’t say that. More like a sixty-year-old going to a funeral. An extremely beautiful sixty-year-old.”
“You Gallaghers should bottle your charm and sell it. You’d make a fortune.”
“Somehow, I don’t think you meant that as a compliment,” he said as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his black suit coat. “I called the new shop in town, Merci Beaucoup. They’ve sent me photos of everything they have in a size four. Do you want to look at them?”
Trust Connor to know she wouldn’t miss accompanying her grandmother to the polling station. “Whatever you choose will be fine,” Arianna said, picking up a doughnut.
She wasn’t overly concerned about letting him choose her outfit. He had great taste—he always had. He liked clothes, and he wore them extremely well, as evidenced by his black suit, dove-gray shirt, and steel-gray tie.
Connor turned the phone to her. It was a photo of a mauve dress with leather piping. There was just one problem. The sleeves were three-quarter length. As though Connor knew what she was about to say, he said, “It’s cool enough you can wear one of those.” He pointed to the wall to the right of the dress, where several styles of shawls and scarves were displayed. “Do you need shoes or boots?”
“Boots,” she said, then thought to ask, “Will they put it on account?”
He ignored her as his fingers worked the phone. He went back and forth with whoever was on the other end and then stopped typing, shoving the phone in his pocket. “They’re having everything sent over. Shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes.”
It was closer to forty, and Arianna knew why as soon as she opened the door. It looked like they were delivering the entire store, or at least everything they had in her size. “I’m sorry. There’s been a mistake. I only needed—”
Connor nudged Arianna out of the way. “Thanks. I appreciate you taking care of everything.” He grabbed six bags from one of the women, put them down in the entryway, and retrieved the rest from a cheerful redhead, who waved off the generous tip Connor tried to hand her.
“No, no. It was our pleasure to deliver everything. Call us anytime you need anything. We really appreciated the business.” She smiled at Arianna. “Good luck today. We’re all voting for you.”
Despite feeling like she was going to throw up, Arianna managed a smile. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” As soon as the door closed, she pushed Connor’s shoulder. “You said no one was going to vote for me!”
“No. I said—”
“Don’t worry, honey. You’re not going to win,” she mimicked. “Sympathy and admiration will only get you so far. They know you don’t really want the job.” She pointed at the door. “She seems to think I do.”
He laughed as he started toward her room, loaded down with bags. “Wow. You were actually listening to me. And they’re only voting for you because you bought a crapload of clothes.”
“No. You bought a crapload of clothes. I was just buying a dress and boots. What were you thinking, Connor? I can’t afford all of this.”
“You lost everything you owned in the fire. I’ve already forwarded the receipt to the insurance company. It’s handled. Don’t worry about it.”
“But that’s a lot of inventory to wait for the insurance company to pay.” She looked at his face. “You paid for it, didn’t you?”
He glanced at his watch. “Dad will be pulling up to the house any minute. Get moving, babe.”
“Don’t think you’ve heard the end of this, babe,” she said before he practically shoved her into her bedroom and shut the door in her face.
Chapter Eight
Arianna decided the one good thing about losing two dress sizes was that she didn’t have to worry about wearing a bra. Still, she adjusted the shawl to cover her chest before opening the door to her bedroom.
“Hey, I was just…Wow. You look amazing,” Connor said as she stepped into the hall. The appreciative gleam in his eyes made her believe she looked okay. Admittedly, it was hard to tell with him. He always seemed to look at her that way. Even the other night when she must have looked like a drowned cat.
“Thank you. Sorry to keep everyone waiting.”
“No problem. They left for the polling station already.” He gestured for her to go ahead of him. “Actually, I should rephrase that. They’ve gone ahead to not only one polling station, but all six. Dad plans to do some polling of his own, get a feel for how it’s going. Just in case you need to start thinking of an acceptance speech.”
“That’s not the least bit funny.”
“Sorry. If you want, I’ll vote for my uncle.”
She turned as she reached the entryway. “You can’t vote. You don’t live here.”
“Actually, I do. It’s been almost a week since I moved into the cottage beside my brother’s place. I registered to vote a few days ago.”
Her heart beat a little too fast. “Why did you move here?” Please, please don’t let it be because of me. She couldn’t take the pressure. It didn’t matter how much she liked having him around—for the most part at least. She wasn’t particularly pleased with him for suggesting the write-in campaign or trying to get her to use her hand. But there were as many positives as there were negatives to him li
ving in town. Although the negatives outweighed the doughnuts, the support for her and her grandmother, and the feeling of safety and comfort from knowing he was a phone call away.
Once again she saw something that resembled hurt cross his face. It was like he could read her mind. Thinking of everything that had been going on in her brain lately, she really hoped that wasn’t the case.
He held open the door. “We should get going.”
“Please don’t be upset. It’s not that I don’t like having you around. I do. I really do. But if you’ve moved back to Harmony Harbor for me, you should know that’s not going to happen. It can’t. I won’t let it, Connor. I’m not ready for a relationship. I don’t think I ever will be. So if that’s what you’re hoping for, you’re wasting your time.”
“You may not have noticed, but my parents are in the middle of getting a divorce, instigated, my brothers and I believe, by my uncle. We’re trying to stop that from happening or, at the very least, make sure the entire Gallagher family doesn’t get drawn into the fight.”
“You could have interrupted me, you know.”
He lifted a shoulder, closing the door behind them. He fit the key in the lock. “Seemed like something you needed to get off your chest.”
“Yes, but…I’m sorry about your family. I’m sure it’s a difficult time for all of you. You and your dad helping with my grandmother’s campaign can only be making it worse. Come tomorrow, you’ll at least have that off your plate. Things can go back to normal.”
But twenty minutes later, after casting their votes at the polling station—Arianna voted for her grandmother; Conner wouldn’t say who he voted for—they stepped out of Harmony Harbor Elementary and into the bright autumn sunshine. A black stretch limo pulled up. Her grandmother was out of the car before the driver got around to her side. Connor’s father followed behind Glamma. At the sight of their wide smiles, Arianna felt faint.
