by Francis Ray
“Thank, you, Alec.” Taking the bag, she brushed a soft kiss against his cheek. “I am hungry.”
“Enjoy.”
“I will. Did you pick up your lunch as well?” she asked.
Why did it always please him so much that she thought of his welfare? “And dinner.”
“Wise move.” She lingered, looking at him as if she wanted to say more, then climbed inside the van. Starting the motor, she let the window down. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He didn’t lie to himself. He wished it were sooner, wished it were in a wide bed with soft sheets draped in moonlight. “Drive safely.”
“I will.” Putting the van into gear, she backed out of the driveway and pulled off.
Alec watched until the van was out of sight. Be careful, Alec. I’ve got a feeling Celeste could mean more trouble than you expected, but she could also mean more pleasure than any man has a right to experience.
Her heart thudding in her chest, her hands unsteady, Celeste threw a last fleeting look at Alec in the driveway before she turned the corner at the end of the street. He excited her, made her body shiver with desire.
It had taken all her willpower to keep the image of him, splendidly naked and magnificently aroused, at bay while she grouted the bathroom. Of course she didn’t have anything to compare it to, but somehow she just knew.
Stopping at the signal light, she glanced over at the take-out bag. He was taking care of her. Just as he had done when he thought she might be endangering herself. Being stubborn and a man, he wouldn’t see it that way, of course. To him, he was just returning the favor.
But she had known a lot of selfish, self-centered people in her day who took with both hands, with no thought of giving back. Alec cared. Or was she confusing caring with lust?
The light changed to green and she pulled through. Was she confusing herself into thinking he felt the same way? Was the sexual tension an aphrodisiac that unduly influenced her?
She didn’t have the answers. She just knew that she had no intention of turning her back on the sizzling attraction between them or trying to help Alec deal with his needless guilt. Both were risky, both demanded her total commitment, both could reap pain or pleasure.
Only time would show which.
. . .
Gina stuck her key in the front door of her house, but before she could turn the key, the door was snatched open. Gabrielle stood in the doorway. All Gina could think of was that she wasn’t ready for another confrontation.
Gabrielle stepped around her mother to Ashton, who stood behind her. “You all right? Lazette said you got knocked out or something.”
Ashton worked his small shoulders a bit in embarrassment. “It just winded me.”
Gina decided to ignore how Lazette, Gabrielle’s classmate who lived several blocks over, had contacted her. It was more important that Gabrielle seemed really concerned. “He’s fine.”
Gabrielle stared down at her brother a few minutes as if wanting to make sure.
“He felt revived enough to order pizza,” Max commented.
Gabrielle’s gaze snapped up to Max holding the three boxes of pizza and a handled bag. Her lips pursed. “I bet you bought him his favorite?”
“It’s pepperoni personal pan-size, and I have it all to myself,” Ashton said with a grin.
Gabrielle turned away. “I might have known.”
Gina’s hand itched to grab her daughter and shake her until her teeth rattled. Stepping into the foyer, Gina closed the door after they were all inside. “There’s also a sausage one for you.”
Her daughter stopped, whirled, her disbelieving gaze going to her mother.
Max casually handed her the personal-size box on top. “I recall how I always wanted a pizza for myself. Your mother also said you liked salad, so we got you one.”
Gabrielle just held the box.
“And I got barbeque wings. Mama said we can share them,” Ashton said.
“Gabrielle,” her mother urged.
Gabrielle looked as if she were still having trouble taking it all in. “Thank you, Mr. Broussard.”
“You’re welcome. And if you or Ashton want to try the beef pizza your mother and I are sharing, feel free,” Max said. “Now, we’d better eat before this gets cold.”
In a matter of minutes, Gina had paper plates, drinks, and the food on the table. Seated, she said grace and served Max. “Thank you. I haven’t had a pizza in years.”
Both children stared at him as if he were from another planet. Max smiled good-naturedly and gazed across the table at Gina. “But if I had a choice I’d definitely prefer your mother’s cooking.”
Gina flushed with pleasure. “Thank you.”
“Mama’s a good cook, but I like pizza, too,” Ashton said, taking a huge bite of his pepperoni pizza.
“Me, too,” Gabrielle said, digging into her garden salad.
“Not me, and I’m looking forward to more of her meals.” Max bit into his pizza. Chewed. Swallowed. “Definitely no comparison to your mother’s cooking. Ashton, you and Gabrielle are two lucky children.”
Gabrielle shrugged. Ashton took another hearty bite. Gina and Max shared a look. “A woman is never appreciated in her own country,” she said.
“Because they’ve always had you to care for them.” Max sipped his iced tea. “Let them eat a couple of my or Aunt Sophia’s meals and they’d change their minds in a hurry.”
Gina bit into her pizza and pondered what Max said. He was probably right. The children did take her for granted, just as Robert had. Only Max seemed to truly appreciate her.
The phone on the kitchen counter rang. Excusing herself, she picked up the receiver. It was one of Ashton’s teammates wanting to know if he was all right. As Max had predicted, Ashton retold his story to the caller with relish.
Gabrielle rolled her eyes, then and at the following two calls for her brother. “To think I was worried about him.”
“He was hurt, Gabrielle.” Gina was just happy to see Ashton acting normal.
The phone rang again. Ashton grinned. Excusing herself, Gina picked up the receiver, then told her son, “This one is for me. Yes, Nettie, thank you. I’ll check on the day and time and get back to you.” Hanging up, she retook her seat.
“You do so much and all of it so well,” Max said. “I’m glad we met.”
So was she. And to think, if Celeste hadn’t forced her to attend Journey’s End’s grand opening she and Max might not have met. The thought made her stomach clench. She picked up her glass of iced tea just as the peal of the doorbell sounded.
“I bet that one is for me,” Ashton said, finishing off a boneless wing.
His prediction proved correct when Gina answered the door. The coach stood on the porch, his team cap in his hands. “Mrs. Rawlings, I just came by to check on Ashton, and to ask you to please change your mind about him playing.”
“I wanna play, Mama.” Ashton stepped beside her and slipped his hand into hers. “My team needs me. I’ll be more careful. I promise. Please.”
“We’ll take it game by game,” she said. The coach opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut at Gina’s stern look.
“See you at Monday practice, Ashton.” Replacing his cap, he left.
“Thanks, Mom,” Ashton said, still holding her hand.
“Just keep your promise of being careful,” she told him.
“Promise.”
They arrived back in the kitchen to see Max putting his paper plate and plastic cup in the trash. “I should be going. I can take you back to your car now or later.”
Gabrielle and Ashton picked up their plates as well. “First let’s get your grocery list filled.”
“We can do it another time.”
She shook her head. “Ashton is feeling fine. There are a few things I need to pick up for myself. You kids want to go with us or stay here?”
“Staying.”
“Going.”
Predictably, Gabrielle elected to stay;
Ashton liked going with Gina. “All right. I’ll get my handbag, and we can leave.”
Max never thought he’d enjoy shopping and finally decided it was because of Gina and Ashton. She believed in Max, in Journey’s End, and wanted its success almost as much as he did. She wanted his guests to feel pampered. He wondered if anyone had ever pampered her.
“I should be finished with your Web site tomorrow night, so you can see it when you come out Monday,” he told her.
Her eyes lit up. She clutched the four-pound container of strawberries to her chest. “So soon?”
He smiled, pleased that he could make her happy. “I’m a slug compared to all that you’ve done.”
She placed the fruit in the shopping cart that Ashton insisted on standing in front of Max and pushing. “The phone call I received while we were eating was from a friend of mine, Nettie Hopkins. She’s a master gardener. I spoke with her a few days ago about my ideas to landscape the yard, and she liked them. If it’s all right with you, she can come out tomorrow around eleven to look everything over.”
“It seems all I do is say thank you.”
“I enjoy helping.” Gina stopped in front of the pears. “I thought, if you don’t mind, we, I mean you, could try out the signature dishes on them.”
“Them?” Max asked, pulling the shopping cart back after Ashton tried to make a skateboard out of it.
“She’s one of the Invincibles, a wonderful group of widows. They’re all consummate hostesses,” Gina told him, her hand clutching a pear. “My aunt Ophelia is one of them and the woman who, along with my mother, taught me how to cook. The Invincibles like nothing better than a project. It wouldn’t surprise me if all of them didn’t show up except Maureen, the founder, who is the owner of the antique store I told you about.”
Max heard the trepidation in Gina’s voice, saw it in her face. She respected them, feared she’d never be as good. “You’re a wonderful hostess yourself. Aunt Sophia and I marvel at your ability to see what needs to be done around the house so effortlessly.”
“Journey’s End is beautiful. It deserves to be shown at its best,” she said.
“I couldn’t agree more. With your help, we’ll show the Invincibles the hospitality Journey’s End is going to be famous for.” He’d deliberately said “we.” “Get whatever you need.”
Nodding, Gina chose pears, avocados, mixed greens, sweet onions. “I’ll make a srawberry-chicken salad in the bread basket serving bowl I told you about. The signature drink will be a southern favorite, iced tea with a twist, strawberry tea slush. For dessert, a strawberry tart with fresh whipped cream.”
“I’m hungry already,” Max said, meaning it. He hadn’t been kidding. He wasn’t much of a pizza eater. “But those dishes will take time. Why don’t we do something simple?”
She smiled at him in that shy way of hers that made him glad she’d come into his life. “If you know what you’re doing, simple foods can be elegantly served and easy to prepare. You can make each meal special.”
“You do that and more,” he said. “I can’t imagine where I’d be if you weren’t helping me.”
“We’ve helped each other,” she said, the tension gone from her face and body.
He only had to think for a moment. “Then I’m in your hands.”
Flushing, Gina quickly turned away. Max wondered about her response, and what it would be like if he were in her hands in an entirely different way.
She’d been right. Something was wrong with her.
While Gabrielle and Ashton, for the first time in weeks, played a video game without needing a referee, Gina sat quietly in her home office trying to figure out what that “something” might be.
When Max looked at her, her stomach became jittery. He smiled and she felt happy. She saw him and felt restless, as if she needed something and he was the only one who could give it to her.
Celeste might have the answer, but she was knee-deep in writing up proposals and doing research on her upcoming projects. She read men so easily—that is, until Alec Dunlap had come into her life.
What was it about a certain man that threw a woman’s life into a tizzy?
The ringing telephone interrupted her thoughts. She tensed. Perhaps it was Max. Her head dropped into her palm. She had to stop thinking about Max. He was her employer, becoming a friend. Nothing more.
“Mama, answer the telephone!” Gabrielle yelled. To a teenager, an unanswered phone offered endless possibilities.
“Got it,” Gina said, picking up the receiver. “Rawlings Travel Agency, where—”
“Why didn’t you call and let me know Ashton had been hurt?” Robert yelled.
“I—”
“What kind of mother are you?” he snapped, cutting her off once again. “I had to hear it from the coach at the gym.”
Gina’s spine straightened. “What was the coach doing there?”
“Telling me, of course, and ensuring that Ashton continues to play soccer,” Robert said. “He’ll play. You aren’t going to make a sissy out of my son.”
His son that he took no time to be with. She’d take care of the coach later. “Frankly, it never entered my mind to call you,” she said with a calmness she was far from feeling.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you know how that made me look?”
“Now the real reason comes out.” She came to her feet, her anger growing. “This isn’t about Ashton as much as the image you want to preserve.”
“You—”
“You miss his practices, his games, his programs at school and church. You’re late with child support. How was I to know you cared?” she asked, this time talking over him. “If you would have been there today, I wouldn’t have had to call you.”
“I told you, woman, somebody had to work. You sure aren’t bringing in the dough,” he said snidely.
She was tempted to tell him how wrong he was. Because of Max she had paid the water bill and now had a small cushion. “If business is so good, Robert, why are you always late with the child support?”
He backtracked faster than a snake slithering on his belly. “It takes a lot of money to run this place.”
“Robert, since you’re worried about Ashton, I suppose you’re coming over to check on him,” she said.
“Er, I’m at work. The least you can do is take care—”
Gina hung up the phone, refusing to listen to another put-down, another excuse. The phone rang almost immediately. She picked it up.
“Don’t—”
She crashed the phone down. She stared at it, feeling a sense of power she never had in the past. She was so tired of trying to keep the peace with Robert for the children’s sake, of trying to be everything to everybody, tired of being put down. And it stopped now.
She picked up the phone and dialed the coach’s cell. It was picked up on the second ring.
“Hello.”
“Coach Sams, this is Ashton’s mother.”
“Is Ashton all right?” he asked, concern in his voice.
“He’s fine. If you want to remain his coach, you will never go behind my back and try to undercut my decision for him to play. I, and only I, make that decision,” she said. “If it happens again, I’m sure I won’t have any difficulty finding him another team to play with. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am. It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”
“I accept your apology and hope there won’t be a need to have this conversation again.”
“No, ma’am, there won’t,” the coach said meekly.
“Good. Good night.”
Today was the start of a new day for her in more ways than one. Pulling out the desk drawer, Gina reached way in the back and drew out two bags of miniature Baby Ruth candy bars. Standing, she pulled out three romance novels from her bookshelf and removed the newly opened bag of M&M’s behind the books.
“Was that Daddy on the phone?” Gabrielle asked.
Teenagers also had selective supersonic hearing. G
ina whirled. She started to stick the candy behind her back but tossed all of it on her desk instead. “Yes. He called to check on Ashton.”
Gina picked up a can of honey roasted peanuts from behind a picture of Ashton and Gabrielle at the park and quickly added it to the stack.
“You think losing weight will bring Daddy back?” Gabrielle asked with such hope that Gina’s heart ached for her.
“I’m not doing this for your father; I’m doing this for me. I’m so out of shape that I couldn’t get to Ashton when he needed me.” She pinched the roll of excess skin on either side of her waist. “I didn’t have this three years ago.”
“You have gained weight.”
Gina couldn’t decide if her daughter was deliberately trying to annoy her or not. What the heck. Gina threw her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and noticed again she was only about three inches taller. “You know, Gabrielle, you don’t always have to say everything that pops into your mind, even if it is the truth.”
“But if you did lose weight, I bet Daddy would notice,” Gabrielle said, still optimistic.
Gina palmed her daughter’s pretty face. “Gabrielle, wanting something doesn’t always make it happen. Your father and I will never get back together. He has his life, and I’m building mine.”
“But it’s not right. Daddy should be here.”
“Gabrielle,” Gina began. When she saw the mutinous look on her daughter’s face, Gina decided to change the subject. “The Invincibles are coming to Max’s B and B to discuss the ideas I’ve suggested for landscaping the grounds. I’m preparing the food and I’d like your help when it’s time to serve. It would mean a lot.”
“I guess.”
“Thank you.” Gina watched her daughter, head down, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans, leave the room. Change wasn’t going to be easy, but Gina wasn’t giving up.
Max was up by seven Sunday morning. By eight, he had all of the fruits and vegetables Gina said she’d need for the brunch lined up on the counter and ready to wash. When she arrived around nine thirty she would find he’d done that much at least. He wasn’t a man who liked sitting back and letting others do his work. He truly appreciated all she did for him and wanted to make sure she knew it.
