The Husband List

by Cindy Kirk

  At four-thirty, Bill started gathering up his tools. “My daughter has to work at Hill of Beans this evening and the wife is tied up. I told her I’d get off a little early and take her.”

  The older man’s gaze slid around the room. He grimaced. “I wanted to get the rest of these doors hung today so the painters could start staining tomorrow. Looks like I’m going to have to call and reschedule them.”

  When the older man pulled out his phone, Keenan held up his hand. “There’s only a couple left. I’ll stay and finish. There’s nowhere I need to be.”

  “We’re supposed to be out of here by five,” Bill reminded him.

  “You said over lunch you stayed until six last night and Dr. Sanchez still wasn’t home,” Keenan reminded him.

  “That’s true.” Bill rubbed his chin. “I know she’s eager to get this job done. Let’s do it this way. You work on it, but if you see her car pull up, you skedaddle out of here. I don’t want Joel on my ass.”

  “Understood.” Keenan gave the man a not-so-gentle shove. “Now get out of here. You don’t want your daughter to be late.”

  Keenan continued to work. His radio, set to a hard rock station, blared out favorite tunes from high school. He’d just finished hanging the last door when the radio cut off.

  He looked up.

  There she was, dressed in a floaty kind of dress the color of autumn leaves, her hair pulled back in some sort of low twist. Her necklace was copper wire infused with amber and red beads.

  Mitzi didn’t look angry, he realized. She looked confused.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I live here.”

  “That’s what I heard.” He gestured with his head toward the hall leading to the bedroom. “A shower, a bed and a huge mirror. What more does a woman need?”

  She gave a throaty laugh. “My sentiments exactly.”

  He hadn’t been sure how she’d respond to seeing him again. It wasn’t as if things had gone badly when they’d had dinner. She’d simply found a better-suited dinner companion. He hadn’t made a scene, which would have been ridiculous considering the fact they were mere acquaintances.

  He glanced at the large sack in her hand, recognized the eatery. “Chinese?”

  “I was in the mood.” She opened the sack and the delicious aroma of fried rice filled the air. “Golden Palace is the best.”

  “Got that right,” Keenan concurred. He pulled to his feet, dusted his jeans off. “I realize you like us gone by five but if we got all the doors hung today, the painters can come tomorrow and stain.”

  “Staying late is fine.” Mitzi waved a hand and he noticed her nails were the color of pumpkin. “I told Joel I didn’t want the workers to feel they had to stay late to try to get the house done sooner, simply because I’d moved in.”

  “Well, this ‘worker’ appreciates your consideration.”

  Mitzi paused for a second then held out the sack, letting it swing as it dangled between her fingers. “If the worker is hungry,” she said, “I have enough for two.”

  “Kind of you to offer.” Keenan finished putting away his tools. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

  “Look, I’m rarely kind. Or thoughtful. And I never let anyone impose. But I always order at least enough for two so I have leftovers.”

  “Nothing like Chinese food for breakfast,” he quipped.

  “Or cold pizza,” she added with an impish smile, and then sighed. “It’s been a long day and I’m ready to unwind. I’ve got a six-pack of imported Chinese beer to go with the food, but there are also bottles of water in the fridge. I’m not in the mood to eat alone, and you’re here. The way I see it, unless you have other plans, we might as well eat together.”

  When she paused to take a breath, Keenan grinned. “Since you put it that way, toss me one of those egg rolls.”

  * * *

  After Mitzi changed into jeans and a psychedelic top that Keenan joked made his eyes hurt, they ate sitting crossed-legged on the kitchen floor, the food spread out between them.

  He insisted the fried rice and sesame chicken were as good as he remembered, while Mitzi focused on the Mongolian beef and steamed rice. She sipped the cold beer and felt the stress of the day slide away.

  She hadn’t realized until just this moment that Keenan was really easy to be with, no stress, no pressure. He entertained her with his travels and the life of an extreme-sports junkie. She refrained from bringing up his prison experience.

  “I heard you had a place in Teton Village.” Keenan dipped his egg roll into some sweet-and-sour sauce. “Minutes from the slopes.”

  “I take it you like to ski.” She took another sip of beer and wondered if there was a single person in Jackson Hole who wasn’t crazy about the sport.

  He grinned. “I worked on the ski patrol when I was first out of high school.”

  “What about college?” The question slipped past her lips before she could pull it back.

  “No money,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “No inclination.”

  He stabbed a bite of sesame chicken with his fork, held it up without eating. “Even if I’d wanted to go, Betsy was still in middle school. And Gloria—our mother—” he clarified at Mitzi’s confused look “—you couldn’t trust the woman to take care of a dog, much less a child.”

  Admiration rippled through Mitzi as she put two and two together. Keenan had put his life on hold to watch over his sister.

  “Anyway, Bets was the smart one in the family,” he continued. “She got a couple of scholarships and some grants and went to the University of Kansas.”

  “Leaving you finally free to pursue your dreams.” Mitzi kept her tone light.

  Keenan took the piece of sesame chicken into his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. “My only dreams back then were to have a good time and see how far I could push myself.”

  She’d known men—boys—like him back in her old neighborhood. They’d lived for today without a thought for their future. She’d avoided them like the plague.

  “When did that change?” she asked.

  He shot her a lazy glance over the rim of his water bottle. “What makes you think it did?”

  “You became an airplane mechanic,” she said evenly. “You got your pilot’s license.”

  He leaned back against the wall, his eyes taking on a distant look. “I got tired of all the travel, the different beds, the partying. I didn’t want to end up...”

  His voice trailed off but Mitzi had no difficulty seeing where he’d been headed. She realized with a start, they weren’t so different after all.

  “Like your mother,” she finished the sentence for him.

  He merely shrugged, drank long.

  “Things were coming together for me. I even started to think I might one day have enough money together to start my own charter service.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Then it all fell apart.”

  “What happened?” Even as she asked, Mitzi knew it was none of her business. Realized the topic was probably a difficult one for him to discuss even among friends. While they’d shared a couple of meals, she and Keenan weren’t friends, not really.

  But he could be. Mitzi had the feeling Keenan would make a really good friend.

  The day outside was overcast and the room held a soft glow, encouraging confidences. For reasons she chose not to examine too closely, Mitzi wanted to understand the man with the broad shoulders and suddenly tired eyes sitting across from her on the floor.

  “I was working late at a private airport outside of Cheyenne.” Keenan stared down at the fork in his hand as if he’d never seen the utensil before. “I heard sounds of a scuffle outside the hangar then someone screaming. I ran outside to help.”

  He hesi
tated.

  Instead of pushing for more, Mitzi took a long, slow sip of her beer and waited.

  “Two big guys were pummeling this man who was already down. There was blood. Lots of blood.” His eyes grew dark with the memories. “I shouted for them to stop. They stopped all right...and turned on me.”

  Mitzi’s heart caught in her throat. She lowered the glass. “What happened?”

  “I got in a couple good jabs.” He lifted one shoulder. “Everything after that is a blank. When I woke up I was in an infirmary...attached to the jail.”

  “You hadn’t done anything but try to help.”

  “I learned I’d been charged with murder. But I wasn’t worried,” he said. “I’d gotten a good look at the two guys and could give their description. Then I discovered the gun that was used to kill the man had been found in my hand.”

  Mitzi didn’t bother to hide her shock. “You were framed.”

  He nodded. “They did a bang-up job of it. Still, I was prepared to prove my innocence...until I got word if I fought the charges, they’d kill my sister.”

  Keenan’s gaze locked with Mitzi. “I had no doubt they could do it. They knew where Betsy worked, where she lived. I’d have done anything to protect her.”

  Her gaze didn’t waver. “You went to prison for a crime you didn’t commit.”

  “They’d have killed her,” he said simply.

  “How did you get out?”

  “New evidence came to light. Not from me, but from one of the two men there that day. He turned on his friend. Bad guys do things like that. Lucky for me or I’d still be stuck in that hellhole.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Still, it took considerable time, money and effort to secure my release. My sister and my friends here went above and beyond in that area. There’s no way I can ever repay them.”

  Mitzi leaned over, placed her hand over his. “I bet they’d say having you out of prison is all the payment they want.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, not sounding convinced. “Regardless, I’m going to repay every penny they put out. That may take a while. But their kindness, their support, well, that’s something I can never repay.”

  His voice, thick with emotion, cracked, surprising them both.

  Keenan attempted to cover the sound with a cough. “Anyway, that’s the story. I’m back where I started, and it’s okay.”

  “You plan on sticking?”

  He nodded. “I want to see my nephew grow up, hang out with friends...although it’s different now, most of them being married with kids.”

  “Tell me about it.” Mitzi rolled her eyes. “It’s not easy being single and surrounded by happily marrieds.”

  Keenan’s eyes grew sharp, assessing. “I’m surprised someone hasn’t snagged you before now.”

  “Shagged?” She couldn’t help but smile. “That’s happened a time or two. Or three,” she added.

  “Snagged.” He emphasized the word and laughed. “As in put a ring on that pretty finger.”

  There were a dozen phrases she’d used over the years to explain her single status, but for some reason Mitzi decided to take the honest route this time.

  “For as many years as I can remember, I’ve had to keep men at arm’s length. I had my dreams and nothing—and no one—could be allowed to derail those plans.”

  “Now you’ve reached your goal.”

  “I have,” she admitted. “But keeping that distance became a habit. Trust has never come easily for me.”

  Over fortune cookies, she found herself telling Keenan about Kelvin, her last boyfriend. Although she’d known from the start that the odds of her and the NFL star having a future were a long shot, she’d still been shocked when she learned he’d been cheating on her.

  “I let myself trust him,” she admitted. “That’s where I went totally wrong.”

  “Did you love him?”

  “I was heading in that direction,” Mitzi said, embarrassed she could have been so gullible. “I was stupid.”

  “No,” Keenan said firmly. “He was stupid.”

  Mitzi lifted a shoulder. “My mistake was getting involved with him in the first place. I should have known it wouldn’t work. We were apart too much.”

  “What about Benedict?” Keenan asked.

  “Ben’s a great guy,” she said. “We should have been a perfect match. But he got on my nerves and I got on his. Big-time.”

  “I can understand that,” Keenan said then grinned when she gave him a shove.

  “How about you? Any true loves in your past?”

  “A prison isn’t exactly a dating wonderland.” His eyes grew shuttered, the way they always did when those years came up.

  Mitzi got it that he didn’t want to talk about that time. “I mean before that.”

  “No. There was never anyone special.” His eyes grew thoughtful. “I think I always knew I needed to get myself together before I had anything to offer someone else.”

  “Any prospects in Jackson Hole?”

  “Maybe,” he said, a lazy gleam in his eyes.

  Her stomach twisted, even as Mitzi told herself it didn’t matter to her in the least who Keenan McGregor wanted to date...or to sleep with....

  She scrambled to her feet, feeling oddly out of breath. “It’s getting late.”

  Taking his time, Keenan pulled to his feet, hazel eyes focused on hers. “I guess that’s my cue to leave.”

  “It’s getting late,” she repeated, feeling foolish.

  He leaned forward and surprised her by brushing a kiss across her cheek.

  Mitzi frowned, resisted the urge to touch her face. “What was that for?”

  “For the dinner.” He shot her a wink. “Next time, it’s my treat.”

  Chapter Six

  “Next time, he says, as if it’s a given,” Mitzi groused to Kate over lunch at the Green Gateau the following day. “He acted as if it was a date or something, and that we were destined to have another one.”

  “I’ll tell Joel he’s bothering you.” Kate stabbed a crisp piece of endive with her fork.

  Mitzi jerked upright. “Don’t you dare repeat one word of what I say to your husband.”

  “But if one of his employees is harassing you...” Kate dipped the lettuce into the salad dressing, not seeming to notice Mitzi’s horrified expression.

  “I didn’t say he was harassing me,” Mitzi sputtered. “And whatever I tell you is in confidence and not to be shared. I won’t have Keenan getting in trouble—”

  Suddenly seeing the amusement in her friend’s eyes, Mitzi paused. “You had no intention of speaking with Joel.”

  “Of course not.” Kate lifted her hands and drew a box in the air with her fingers. “We’re in the vault.”

  Whatever was said in “the vault” was between the two of them and not to be shared.

  “Besides,” Kate continued, a tiny smile tugging at her lips, “he’s not harassing you—he’s flirting.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “C’mon, Mitzi, you’re not that clueless.”

  “I’ve got someone else in mind.”

  “Tim Duggan?”

  Mitzi shook her head. “I thought about it. You were right. I’m not ready to be an instant mommy.”

  Her expression giving nothing away, Kate took a sip of mango iced tea. “So who’s moved to the top of the leader board?”

  “Winn Ferris.” Mitzi set aside her reservations. Although he didn’t make her blood surge like Keenan, there was no denying Winn was an attractive man. And he met all her criteria. “I’m certain the better I get to know him, the more I’ll like him.”

  Kate cocked her head. “Really?”

  “Some men have to grow on you.”

  “Others hit you square in the h
eart.” Kate’s lips curved up.

  Mitzi felt a stab of envy, knowing her friend was thinking about her reaction to Joel when she’d first met him. Though Kate’s journey to love and happiness had been jolted by more than a few potholes, her friend had a marriage Mitzi envied.

  But Mitzi had learned long ago that everyone traveled a different course in life. Hers had never been easy. So why should her quest for love and a husband be any different?

  “I’ve got to figure out a way to spend time with Winn.” Mitzi caught her lip between her teeth. “I could simply tell him I’m interested, but honesty tends to scare men off.”

  Kate looked as if she was trying very hard not to laugh. “I agree. Coming out and telling him he’s at the top of your husband list might be a trifle disconcerting.”

  Mitzi shot her friend a glance. “I wish there was a party coming up. A reason to bring us together without being obvious.”

  “How about book club?”

  Mitzi had attended the monthly book club in the past when she’d had nothing better to do or was in the mood for gourmet food. It was a given that Lexi Delacourt would supply the entrée consumed prior to the discussion. In addition to being a fine social worker, Lexi was a gourmet cook. Though husbands often showed up with their wives, it wasn’t really a party.

  “The book club is all women,” Mitzi said pointedly. “Winn is a guy.”

  “During the book club meeting—which happens to be at our house this month—Joel plans to get the guys together for a pickup game of baseball.”

  A slow smile spread across Mitzi’s face. “He could invite Winn.”

  “He could.” Kate handed the waiter her credit card. “I’m sure your Mr. Ferris would attend. Especially considering that many of those who’d be there are the movers and shakers in Jackson Hole, including our new mayor, Tripp Randall.”

  “Yeah, he’d come.” Mitzi brought a finger to her lip. “Unless he has other plans.”

  “You’ll know one way or the other,” Kate spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “But you might want to come anyway. Lexi is bringing her fabulous Southern-style fried chicken and we’ll be discussing Catcher in the Rye, so it should be an enjoyable evening.”