Blame it on Cupid

by Jennifer Greene

  When Merry closed the door, she gulped hard. It was the first time she’d seen Charlie happy since she got here. The boys could guy talk with her. Something Merry was distinctly aware she couldn’t do, didn’t do and—in this life—was probably never going to be able to do.

  Still, she bopped back to the recipe taped to a cupboard door for “steak pinwheels with sun-dried tomato stuffing and rosemary mashed potatoes.”

  Okay, okay, so maybe it was an excessively ambitious goal for a girl whose specialty was boxed mac and cheese, but Merry wasn’t about to give up. So she didn’t have the mechanical aptitude of a leaf. She could try other things to win Charlie over, to do the good guardian thing. Like make nutritious meals. Specifically delicious nutritious meals.

  Hopefully, anyway.

  She stirred the brew of broth and tomatoes and spices on the stove, still half listening to the kids. The boys sounded so like Jack. If she were Charlie’s age, she’d have a serious case of hero worship of both of them. They were so good looking. So gentle with her. So adorable.

  Not as adorable as their dad, but right now, Merry was well aware she couldn’t imagine anyone more adorable than Jack. Only a man of incomparable courage and character strength would have offered to co-chaperone a sixth-grade dance—and of course she was going to let him off the hook. But that wasn’t the point. He’d been so chivalrous to offer. Her heart was still full from their last encounter….

  The cell phone rang just as she was reading the next set of instructions in the recipe. The steak had to be laid “flat on a clean work surface.” Then it had to be pounded “some.” The goal was to roll it into pinwheels, with the stuffing inside.

  The phone rang again. She reached for it, but her mind was still trying to decipher the directions. The picture made it look so easy. Only she wasn’t exactly sure what a pinwheel was, and what was she supposed to pound the steak with? Hire a hit man? Use her fist? Why was she supposed to hit the poor steak at all?

  “Merry? It’s me.”

  “Me!” She’d know Lucy’s voice anywhere. They’d been best friends since grade school. Of course Lucy wasn’t Lucy Fitzhenry anymore. She’d done the whole fairy-tale thing for real—married Nick Bernard of the Bernard Chocolate empire. But a pile of money hadn’t changed her. Just hearing her voice made Merry’s spirits lift. She settled in the nearest chair and propped her feet up on the counter. “God, you don’t know how glad I am to talk to you.”

  “They don’t have phones in Virginia? You didn’t think I was dying to hear how you were doing?”

  “I’d have called. But I didn’t want to bug you or Nick. You two are the same as newlyweds. And now you’ve got the baby. I just hated to call and risk waking either of you up.”

  “Don’t worry about that again. The only one who sleeps in a house with a baby is the baby. And that’s whenever the adults can’t possibly. It’s a trick. It’s not in the baby books, but it’s still a trick all babies seem to know.”

  Merry sat back for a bit to hear Lucy gush on about the little one. Sheesh, you could hear the glow in her voice. The love. “Aw, Luce, I’m so happy for you two.”

  “Yeah, well. Now it’s your turn. How on earth is it going?”

  Who knew that she’d been holding so much back? But her perky smile slipped. And her eternal optimism suddenly hid under the refrigerator. “Maybe…not so good,” she admitted. And out it poured. Sitting in the rain at soccer practice. The painting session. The getting lost trying to find the post office. Charlie’s physical appearance. The scary attorney. The scarier guardian ad litem. Her making seven dozen cookies last week for the PTO. The dance thing coming up.

  She didn’t say she was feeling inadequate and incompetent and insecure, but if her oldest closest friend couldn’t pick up that she was rattled out of her mind, no one could.

  Finally Lucy interrupted. “You’re turning into a full-time-adult mom.”

  “I’m sure trying.”

  Silence for a moment. Merry could hear Lucy clinking ice cubes in a glass, moving around. Then. “You remember when you worked at that insurance company? That horrible guy who had you convinced you must be bipolar? Because you were happy all the time. And he said nobody could be that happy. It just wasn’t normal.”

  “Hey, do we need to bring that up ever again?”

  “Not to tease you. I’m just trying to say, Mer, that you do everything whole hog. You always have. You don’t put in a hundred percent. You put in five hundred percent. And now you’re suddenly trying to turn into a suburban mom, five hundred percent.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it, you doofus. Except that it’s all about the child. What about you? What about what you want, what you need?”

  “What I want is for Charlie to be happy.”

  “I understand that, Mer. But you haven’t said a word about setting up your own life there. I mean, have you been out? Met some guys? Gone dancing anywhere? Shopping? I can’t think of a spring you didn’t sign up for at least three classes, even if you didn’t get around to finishing any of them.”

  “But I just got here. I haven’t had time to think about myself. I’ll get selfish again, honest.”

  “It’s not about selfish or unselfish. It’s about exhausting yourself.”

  “Whatever, Lucy. It’ll be worth it if Charlie ends up okay. She’s just been through a ton.”

  “This is about your mother, isn’t it?”

  It was Merry’s turn to fall silent. “It’s about Charlie.”

  “I know that. And I know we never talk about your mother. We always act like she never existed. But when you took this on, this whole guardianship thing, without even a second thought—”

  “I gave it a ton of thought!”

  “Still. It’s not the same thing as taking a yoga class or first aid or whatever. You uprooted everything you ever knew to do this. I didn’t think it was just about you, being impulsive. This wasn’t even remotely a whim—”

  “At all. No matter what anyone thinks.”

  “And your heart’s always been as big as the sky. But even so. The way your mother took off…the reasons your mother took off—”

  “I’m not like my mother,” Merry blurted out. And immediately wanted to bite her tongue. She was too old to be still singing that same old mantra. It hadn’t snuck out in years—and neither did that adolescent defensiveness in her tone.

  “I know you’re not.”

  “I’d never desert a child.”

  “I know you wouldn’t.”

  “I’d never put money or a lifestyle ahead of what a child needed. And for sure, for damn sure, I’d never abandon a kid. If it killed me.”

  Darn it. When Merry finished the call, she felt itchy-frustrated. Normally talking with Lucy and Nick were a guaranteed day-lifter. Only this time the conversation had made her feel more isolated than ever, as if Virginia were on the other side of the world from everyone she could talk to. Darn it, she needed affirmation from someone. Anyone. Any how. She had a dad and sisters and friends who loved her, but it wasn’t the same thing as having a live body close by—someone who could see what she was doing, see what she was up against, and help her know if she was on the right track with Charlie.

  No matter what Lucy said, this wasn’t about her mother. It wasn’t. It was about the here and now.

  The instant she clicked off the receiver, unfortunately she came smack-dab against an immediate here-and-now crisis. Smoke billowed from the pot on the stove.

  Charlie walked in, her hands and a cheek shiny with grease. “Whew. What stinks in here?”

  Merry thought, my life? Could I just do one thing right?

  But she said cheerfully, “You lucked out. I screwed up a big fancy dinner with a lot of vegetables, so now you get mac and cheese.”

  “Thank you so much,” Charlie said fervently.

  JACK APPROACHED THE GROCERY store the same way he’d walk into a dark alley at midnight, wary, alert, head d
own, moving fast.

  It was one of those behemoth-sized stores. Had a decent hardware section. Pretty good sporting goods and books. And yeah, of course it had food. It was just…there were so many aisles. So much shopping. How was a guy supposed to feel safe?

  He grabbed a cart and started out at a fast jog—all the better to get this over with before a panic attack set in. Produce first. The boys couldn’t get enough fresh fruit, and that aisle had a lot of stuff he didn’t have to cook besides. His mind kept straying to Cooper, because he knew damn well there was something going on with Coop. What, he wasn’t sure. But something had the kid distracted and over-quiet for the last couple weeks.

  When he spun into the aisle with the oranges and apples, though, he forgot his son. Both sons. And any other rational connection to reality.

  Until that moment, he didn’t realize how intently he’d made a study of Merry’s behind, but facts were facts. He’d have recognized that particular enticing fanny anywhere. She was facing away from him. The waistband on her yoga pants revealed just a hint of the tattoo he had yet to make out, and above that she wore a double layer of long-sleeved tees. She’d thrown her jacket in her grocery cart. The view from behind was as damn close to delectable as anything that was conceivably edible in the store—and then some.

  Although that wasn’t, Jack told himself sternly, what made him stop.

  His neighbor was talking to her. Robert was the one the poker group called Boner whenever the guys were alone together, a natural nickname for a guy who turned on for anything female at the speed of light. There was nothing wrong with Robert exactly. He was a good poker pal. It was just Jack immediately noticed how he’d pushed his cart in a way that blocked Merry’s ability to move. He saw Robert’s posture. The cocked leg. The bullshit boyish smile.

  “I’ve been wondering how you were doing, knocking around alone in that big house.”

  “I’ve got Charlie. I’m not alone. But we’re doing just great…”

  Jack heard the innocuous dialogue, but he still braced. Boner had been married forever, golfed like it was a religion, had two kids and a wife who brayed when she laughed. But he was a cheater. Jack knew it the way guys just knew that about other guys, didn’t need discussion.

  He didn’t care. Boner’s business was Boner’s business. And God knew, he didn’t need any more involvement in Merry’s life. The more he was around her, the more they seemed to “accidentally” touch…but Jack hadn’t bought those accidental excuses since he was sixteen.

  Nobody touched by accident. A magnet was pulling them together. The same old sexual magnet that always got a guy in trouble—but darn it, this wasn’t the normal dig of testosterone. This was more like a plunge into a testosterone lake, unignorable, deep, submerging him in thoughts of her. All of which told him the obvious—he should spin around his grocery cart and gallop in the other direction. It’s not as if he feared Boner would try to pull off anything in the middle of a grocery store. It’s not as if were worried about her at all.

  He didn’t worry about anyone but himself and his kids anymore.

  But he did accidentally keep listening to the conversation.

  “So…Susie sends you to do the grocery shopping?”

  There, Jack applauded her. Bring the wife into the conversation. See? She didn’t need any help handling a rover.

  “Naw,” Boner said. “She was under the weather. That time of the month.”

  Jack mentally winced. Too much information. Inappropriate information. Merry seemed to instinctively back up her cart another step or two. “How’re the kids?”

  “Same old, same old. Saw you at the kids’ volleyball game.”

  “Yeah, your Samantha did terrific.” Jack watched Merry amble back another step, at the same pace Boner was pushing his cart forward. She’d already backed up past the tomatoes. Past the cucumbers and colored peppers.

  “She’s a trooper, all right. You know…you ever have a leaky faucet or that kind of problem, you know who to call, don’t you?”

  “Yes. You offered before. Thanks again.”

  “That Charlene. Can’t be easy taking her on out of the blue. She’s a different kind of girl, especially since her dad died. You think she’s missing a man’s influence?”

  “I think—” Merry backed up another distance. Cripes, she was about to skid right into the rutabagas. “I just think it’s a hard thing she’s going through.”

  “Because I could come over. Just hang with you two sometimes, if you think it’d help—”

  Aw, hell. He wasn’t exactly saving her. It’s just that the damned woman was going to back into a mountain of melons and cause an avalanche if he didn’t do something. “Robert. Merry. Amazing who you meet in the grocery store, isn’t it?”

  Merry spun around, obviously surprised to see him—more than surprised. Her huge, grateful smile could have brought a sixteen-year-old to his knees. It was that stunning.

  It was that dead wrong. He was so not a hero, and that was the whole reason he should never have stepped in. Merry kept getting the mistaken idea he was a good guy. She kept giving him those kinds of smiles because she trusted him.

  He didn’t want her trust. He hadn’t earned it, didn’t want to earn it. The truth was, he wanted to lust after her in silent, guilty peace.

  Boner, typically, was oblivious to any side undercurrents—or guilt for that matter. They neighbor-talked for a couple more minutes, and then Robert wandered off. When Jack glanced around, he found Merry had stepped over to the apples—not far. At least, not far enough. He could feel her taking in his crew-neck sweater, the old jeans, the scuffed shoes. He had a list in his hand. She had a list in hers. But when he picked up a bag of oranges, she suddenly zoomed back to his side with another big smile.

  “I’m guessing you’d like them a little more ripe, wouldn’t you?” She replaced his chosen bag of oranges with one she picked.

  “How do you tell?”

  “No yellow or green tinge. The shape of them.” Color bloomed on her cheeks. He hadn’t been trying to look her over in an evocative or noticeable way. It was just the way T-shirt material cupped her breasts. How could a guy not notice?

  He said casually, “You might want to be a little watchful around Robert.”

  “Believe me, I watched enough to know he’s on the prowl.”

  “His wife’s a prowler, too. A guy isn’t safe alone in his own house sometimes,” Jack said mournfully. That made her chuckle.

  He wanted her to chuckle. Wanted her to feel easy with him—just not too easy, because every instinct warmed him that if a wolf knocked on Merry’s door, she’d invite him right on in to dinner.

  “The first time Robert stopped over, he seemed so nice. Welcoming me to the neighborhood, offering to help. Only offering a little too hard,” she said wryly.

  “I’ve been known to hide in the basement if Susie knocks,” Jack said sotto voce.

  Again she chuckled. By the time they’d made it back to the apples, she’d taken over as shopping supervisor, didn’t even bother asking permission to exchange the bag of apples in his hand for a different one.

  “What’s wrong with those?” The two bags looked the same to him.

  “The ones in the middle were all bruised, started to go soft. You’re not much of a grocery shopper, huh?”

  He made a face. And she grinned. “Okay, I guess I can trust you on your own with the cherries,” she teased. “I have to hustle. Have a sleepover to shop for.”

  When she ambled away, he told himself that he felt relieved. But the produce section had proven so traumatic that he instinctively pushed his cart toward a guaranteed safe zone. Hardware.

  He knew that part of the store. There was no possibility of getting into any trouble there, no anxiety, no threat of harm’s way. And the library shelves he’d been building were to the point where he needed to make a decision on stain.

  He didn’t want too dark a color, but the birch wood was too darn light by itself. So he was
thinking maybe maple. Maybe maple blended with some English oak. With maybe a few drops of mahogany to richen it up.

  It took a few minutes to make up his mind and choose the staining products. When he turned the corner into the next hardware aisle, though…damn, there she was again. All alone this time. Her cart looked more stuffed than a pregnant whale, rounded with pop and popcorn, brownie mixes and mounds of chips, all the major junk-food ingredients for a sleepover. He was envious of anyone who could finish a cartful of shopping that fast—yet oddly, her expression appeared frazzled and frustrated as she studied the shelves of electrical supplies.

  He could hardly duck from sight. What if she’d turned and seen him?

  “I take it it’s my turn to save you?” he asked wryly.

  She spun around. Immediately her face lit up, brighter than sunshine. “Oh, God. You can’t imagine how glad I am to run into you again! Charlene said we needed a three-prong thingie for some electronic whatchamacallit in her room. And she drew me a picture so I’d know what it looked like. But I can’t find it. And there’s no point in asking a clerk because—”

  “Because he might not know how to identify it from the fancy ‘thingie’ terminology?” How could he not tease her?

  “Give me all the grief you want. As long as you help me,” she teased right back.

  He had to come close enough to see the drawing on her list. “I hate to lose my hero status, but honest to Pete, this isn’t remotely tricky. All you need is an adaptor.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought I needed. Only there isn’t a single package here that spells out a three-prong whatchamacallit.”

  “Damn men must have marketed this stuff. What do they know?”

  She chuckled again. Only at that point he couldn’t help but touch her. The part was right over her head. And he just barely brushed her shoulder, yet damnation, somehow it was enough to put a velvet ripple up and down his spine.