by Lynn Cahoon
Sheryl came back, dropped off their drinks, and took their lunch order. “Ten minutes, at the most. We’re just like a chain place. You can get in and out in your thirty-minute lunch hour.”
“And still get your beer,” Barb added dryly when Sheryl was out of earshot. She held up her hands in mock surrender. “I know, I’m being a snob. But seriously, look at that guy over at the bar. You know he’s been here since it opened this morning.”
“Probably never left last night,” Taylor added, turning to glance at the man. He wore jeans and a gray t-shirt, and had salt-and-pepper hair that stood up in random places on his head.
Angie sniffed. “You both are snobs. Nothing wrong with a man sitting at a bar all day. Maybe he’s homeless and this is the only place he can sit.”
Barb leaned into Angie and gave her a hug. “You’re always looking for the best in people. I know; I shouldn’t judge.”
“I just think you need to be more open to the lost souls in the world.” Angie’s fingers drummed on the lacquered tabletop, diamond rings flashing in the glow cast from the neon sign lighting their table. Taylor took a long look at Angie. For all the bling around her neck and the bright yellow satin pants with matching floral-print shirt, the woman’s words didn’t match her sixties Barbie look.
“My mom would tell me the same thing,” Taylor admitted. “My friends and I would go to the mall and laugh about someone’s outfit, or the way they were dressed. But if my mom caught us, we knew we were in trouble. One day she took us to the rescue mission, and we served lunch for a week.”
“Sounds like your mother raised you right.” Angie nodded.
Taylor tilted her head. “Did you do the same thing to Jesse when he was a kid?”
Angie’s face paled and tears filled her eyes. Taylor froze. What had she said?
Finally Barb spoke up. “Angie didn’t raise the boys. They lived with their dad.” Her quiet voice told Taylor there was much more to the story.
“Oh.” Taylor dug into her purse and handed Angie a tissue. “I didn’t mean to be too personal.”
Angie took the tissue and waved away Taylor’s apology. “No worries. My issues.” She blew her nose. “Barb went to school with James and Jesse in Shawnee. They were all friends.”
Taylor focused on Barb. “Shawnee? Does that place even have a school?”
“Hey, it’s not that small. Okay, it’s not big like Boise, but yes, Shawnee had three schools: elementary, middle, and high school. I was friends with Lizzie, who dated James. Therefore, Jesse tagged along, too. We’ve been friends for years.”
Taylor thought about Brit, who she’d met freshman year at Bishop Kelly. “My assistant and I went to high school together. She understands me.”
“Yeah, I get that. Lizzie was the only one I could talk to when my husband and I started having problems.” Barb twisted the ring on her left hand. Taylor hadn’t noticed it there before.
Angie huffed. “No, Lizzie was the only one you told. You have to realize that once you’re in the Sullivan fold, you have family. We may be unusual, but we’re family.”
Barb laughed. “Jesse came over the day I signed the annulment papers. He watched Sleepless in Seattle with me for hours. I drank three bottles of wine that night.”
“Wait, the annulment?” Taylor was confused.
“Long story. Let’s just say, Hunter and I have been through some intense times. I tell him we should get that Chinese curse tattooed on our shoulders, the one that says ‘may your lives be interesting.’” Barb leaned back as Sheryl delivered the food.
The smell of French fries and grease filled Taylor’s senses, and her stomach growled. “I haven’t had a burger in years. Usually, we order sandwiches for lunch, and then I have a salad for dinner when I get home. My folks are gone a lot—either for work or traveling—so, I’ve been on my own.”
Angie smiled. “You live at home then? I keep telling Jesse that it’s not unusual for an unmarried child to live with his parent. But he keeps telling me I need my own house when I’m in town. I’ve been looking at one of those condos over by the river.”
Taylor brightened. “Me, too. I thought, once the gallery gets settled in a year or two, I should be able to—” She cut off her thought, realizing that if Jesse continued with his plans to buy the gallery, her dream would be out of reach. If that happened, she’d have to dip into her trust fund or ask her parents for money to get her condo. Those were two things she didn’t want to do.
The table grew quiet as the impact of Taylor’s words hit the ladies. The women focused on their food, and all casual conversation stopped. Great, Taylor thought. Way to alienate friends and influence people.
A man’s hand reached in and grabbed a couple of her fries. She slapped at it. “Hey!”
Jesse Sullivan slipped in to the booth next to her. Heat coursed through her body and pooled in the spot between her legs. Damn him and his crooked smile.
“Sorry, they just looked too inviting. Besides, you can’t eat fries, not with that body.” Jesse half stood, leaning over the table to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.
Sheryl returned to the table. “The usual, Jesse?”
“Sounds good. Make sure the hot wings are really hot this time.” Jesse took a swig of the draft beer Sheryl had brought without asking. Apparently, the man and his mother were regulars.
“Who invited you?” Barb asked, pointing a fry at the newcomer.
Jesse leaned back in the booth and smiled at his manager. “Now, Barbie, why are you being a brat? It’s not like I crashed your wedding, or something.”
“Boy, you’re always showing up at the wrong time.” Barb grinned. “Hunter’s still peeved at you crashing in my hotel room the night after our first wedding. Every time we leave for a rodeo, he checks to see if you have your own hotel reservation.”
“He’s just doing his due diligence as the doting husband. Besides, I know not to touch sold goods. I get beaten up enough on the bulls; no way I want some angry husband messing with this pretty face.” Jesse ran his hand over his chin.
“The face that didn’t get shaved this morning,” Angie observed.
Jesse leaned over to Taylor. “Now you understand why I sent these two over to the gallery this morning. If they’re all up in your business, maybe they’ll stay out of mine.”
“Jesse.” Angie shook her finger at her youngest son. “You stop being a brat.” She frowned at the plate of chicken wings Sheryl just sat down in front of him. “Lord, do those things smell.”
“Like heaven.” Jesse smiled and ripped into a wing. The smell of Tabasco hit Taylor, and she coughed.
“Wow.” She took a sip of her wine. “I’m not even eating them and I can taste the hot sauce.”
Grinning, Jesse waved a drumlet near her. “I know, aren’t they amazing?”
Angie laughed. “Better get used to it, Taylor. Now that you’re part of the gang, Jesse’s eating habits are one thing you just have to ignore.”
Taylor smiled, but deep down she wondered if she was really part of the gang. How had this family accepted her so quickly as a friend when she was working as hard as she could to get them out of her life?
“Relax, Mom. Maybe Taylor’s looking for the exit door instead of being brainwashed into our little cult.” Jesse wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Mom, I mean, Angie, has this habit of moving too quickly in her relationships. If you don’t watch out, pretty soon she’ll be mother-henning you, too. And you’ll be one of the family, like it or not.”
Taylor ate her lunch and wondered why the prospect didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
Chapter 5
Jesse walked through the gallery alone. Yesterday’s lunch had gone long, and the three women had acted like best friends before they’d left Dave’s. The dark, old, dive bar had been the last place he thought prissy Miss Taylor would agree to eat. His mom had that effect on everyone, though. The ability to break down class barriers. He wondered how Susan and her husband would react t
o the Angie experience.
Standing in front of a modernist take on a landscape, Jesse found himself not thinking about the angles of the painting. Instead, he thought about the angles of Taylor’s face. He’d worked on the drawing of her for the last week, trying to find the missing spark, the look he saw every time their eyes met. But his skill level had failed him, and he’d started over time and time again, frustrated with the results. Three weeks and this semester would be over. Would Susan agree to keep him on as a private student, even though he was taking over the gallery? Was there some sort of conflict in the two items? He hoped not. Besides, if everything worked out, he’d be more of a silent owner for the next few years, allowing Taylor to stay on and manage the gallery.
If she agreed.
He stepped to the next painting, trying to focus on the technique. But his mind returned to Taylor. Maybe Angie was right. Maybe he was drawn more to the woman than the actual business. If Taylor wouldn’t stay he’d just hire a new gallery manager. Angie didn’t want to take over the business. She’d agreed to share the open receptionist position that a college student on summer break currently held. Angie didn’t love art, not the way Taylor did. Or the way a gallery manager should, he corrected himself. The gallery manager didn’t have to be Taylor. His lips curled into a smile. It would just be a bonus if she stayed on.
As if his thoughts had made her materialize, the girl he couldn’t capture on paper walked out of her office. With the suit behind her. The same man she’d had dinner with on Tuesday. Today, she wore a sleeveless summer shift dress that showed off her well-toned arms. No wonder the man kept showing up. He was marking his territory, Jesse guessed. She walked the man to the door, then turned and spotted Jesse standing in the gallery. The girl had the grace to flush.
She strolled toward him, and he could see her processing her thoughts as she made her way over. She nodded to the painting. “Nora Wilson is the artist. She sells well here. You’ll probably want to keep her happy if you take over.”
Jesse cocked his head. “Don’t you mean when?”
Taylor flushed a beet red. “Yes, of course. Sorry for the poor choice of words.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m late for an appointment. Busy day.” She started to step away.
“I was hoping I could shadow you today.” His words stopped her forward movement.
Turning, she frowned. “I thought Angie and Barb were doing that yesterday.”
Jesse leaned against the wall, watching her. “It’s a big investment. I’d like to know what I’m buying.”
She arched a brow at him. “How will shadowing me help?”
“You’re the manager. The manager knows everything. Just ask Barb.” He let his gaze drop to her suntanned legs. Damn, the woman didn’t have a flaw on her body. Or at least the parts of her body you’ve seen. He inwardly shivered at the thought. He slowly brought his gaze back up to her face. His attention had been noticed, and now there was a hardness in her eyes. She was angry with him. Probably for making her feel something after her suit of a boyfriend had just left. Oh, well.
He watched her consider his request. Finally, he saw her surrender, and she sighed, verbalizing it. “Fine, I’m driving out to Baker City to meet with a potential artist. You sure you want to be stuck in a car for that long?
With you? Anytime.
“I’ll even drive.”
She stopped in her office to grab her purse and let Brit know they were leaving. The assistant smiled and waved at him like she thought they were going on a date, not a business drive. He wished. Taylor frowned at the girl as they left.
As they left the gallery, Taylor slipped on a pair of sunglasses, hiding her eyes. He nodded to the Porsche sitting in the parking lot to the side of the gallery. A 1985, 944 model, the baby was his pride and joy. He’d bought the thing for pennies and had put thousands into restoring the car to its former glory. Candy apple red, the car got its share of looks when he took it out for a drive.
“Flashy,” Taylor admitted. “And so not what I expected. My father would kill you for this car.”
“You should have seen it when I bought it. James told me I was out of my mind. That finding the parts alone would ruin me.” He held the passenger door open for her, watching as she slipped in. Her long, elegant legs were the last part of her body to disappear into the Porsche.
When he climbed into the driver’s side, he turned the keys, letting the engine sing. A smile tickled his lips. The car made him happy. He wasn’t proud of the fact, but it did.
“So, you had to prove your brother wrong?” Taylor questioned.
“No. Well, maybe. James is James. As the older brother, he has an opinion on everything.” Jesse turned to Taylor. “I love the car, but James was right about one thing. It ran me an arm and a leg to restore her. I just make sure he doesn’t know how much.”
“Angie said the two of you grew up with your dad. That must have been fun—living out in the country like that. Is that where you learned to ride bulls? Did your dad teach you?” Taylor pulled a slip of paper from her purse and handed it to him. “Key this into your GPS, it’s the guy’s address.”
Jesse typed the address into the navigator he’d had installed. When the map pulled up, he frowned. “Two hours, thirty minutes? You’re going to have to feed me lunch and dinner.”
Taylor laughed. “Who said anything about food?”
“I am driving, the least you can do is feed me.” Jesse pulled the car out into traffic, adjusting the rearview mirror. From his peripheral vision, he saw Taylor turning her head toward the gallery, watching it like they were leaving forever.
“That can be arranged,” she finally said after they’d turned the corner, and the building was no longer in sight.
They reached the freeway and headed east before he answered her questions. “I’m surprised Angie said anything about Dad. She likes to pretend all that didn’t happen.”
“I don’t understand.” Taylor turned down the stereo. “She doesn’t like to talk about her divorce?”
Jesse turned his head and looked at her. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”
“Tell me what?”
Jesse wondered if he even wanted Taylor to know about his sordid past. He sped up to pass a minivan that was slowing for the exit to Eagle, using the distraction to think. He considered his options. “Look, you can’t tell Angie I told you this. If she wants you to know, you’ll know. But it’s hard for her to admit what she did, and I don’t want her hurt.”
Taylor held her hands up. “I’m not going to hurt Angie. Or at least, I hope not. I don’t know what I said yesterday, but she teared up on me. So what really happened?”
Jesse glanced at the GPS. Seeing he didn’t have a turnoff to worry about for miles, he decided to let her in. “When James and I were kids, Angie left Dad.”
“They got a divorce. It happens in the best of families, believe me.” Taylor checked her cell phone for messages. “Most of my senior class was playing the two-step home game, one week at mom’s, one at dad’s. I could never find anyone.”
“No, well, yeah, they got a divorce, but we didn’t know that. One day we had a mother, the next we didn’t. Dad wouldn’t talk about it. He wouldn’t let us talk about her. We were just kids—James must have been six, me a year younger. Once she was gone, Dad fell apart, and raising me fell on James.” Jesse paused. “Then Dad died a few years ago while he was on the way to one of my rodeos. The police found an empty flask in the truck when they pulled him out of the river.”
Taylor didn’t say anything. Jesse glanced over at her, wondering what she was reading on her cell. Instead, her gaze was focused on him, her eyes wide.
She bit her bottom lip. “No wonder she acted funny. I’m so sorry, Jesse. I didn’t know.”
“I’m okay. James is okay. But Mom, she likes to be called Angie, even by us. She’s kind of a mess about it.” Jesse stared at the road ahead. “I think she regretted leaving as soon as she got out of town, but Dad wouldn’t even
let her talk to us. Hell, for years, James and I assumed she’d died somewhere along the way.”
“How did you find her?” Taylor’s voice was quiet.
“She’d been following me on the rodeo circuit. Believe it or not, Jesse Sullivan isn’t that common of a name.” Jesse grinned. “One day, after a ride, she showed up at a bar where I’d been celebrating. James had already turned in for the night.”
“What, she came up and said, ‘Hi, I’m your mother’?”
“Kind of. I thought she was a kook. Then we got talking and she knew too much. She had a picture of the four of us, taken just before she left.” Jesse turned on the air conditioner. “After that, I wasn’t an orphan anymore. She’s an interesting mom, that’s for sure, but I’m glad I have her.”
“Did James feel the same way?” Taylor asked.
“Not hardly. He’s struggled with the idea. But Lizzie’s helping, and Angie loves the kids.” Jesse paused. “I think he remembers the life we had before she left. And he missed her too much to just forgive a whim.”
“Of all the things you could have told me about your mother, about your family, really, this wasn’t what I expected.” Taylor put her hand on his arm. “Thanks.”
Jesse pursed his lips together. “Well, I wouldn’t have said anything, but Angie is kind of hard to accept if you don’t know the background. She’s got her heart set on this receptionist thing.”
Taylor laughed. “I know, she was trying it out yesterday afternoon. I think she scared away more customers than came in.”
“Sorry about that. Maybe you or Barb can take her shopping for work-appropriate clothes. Stuff that shows a little less cleavage?” Jesse grimaced. “I can’t believe I’m saying this about my mother. You’re lucky; Susan doesn’t embarrass you.”
“Oh, if you only knew.” Taylor laughed. “Imagine being the kid whose mom brought paintings in for career day with nude models. The boys were always asking if I wanted to go play artist.”
