“You didn’t.”
“Well...yes. She has her moments, but she’s usually so accommodating about everything and I want her to enjoy herself.”
“Of course.” Skylar clasped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Yet it was sweet, too, imagining the big brother being run ragged by a teenage girl’s angst over her travel wardrobe.
“We finally found several she liked, but of course, the new T-shirts had to be run twice through the washing machine so they wouldn’t look new. Apparently that’s a bad idea, as well. They’re hanging over the heat vent right now to dry.”
“They could have gone in the dryer.”
“And risk having them shrink or melt after going through all that?” Aaron sounded horrified. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He leaned forward, no more than a faint shadow in the darkness. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”
“Technically, I’m trying not to laugh.”
“Oh, God. What did I do wrong this time?”
“Nothing. I just ran the same marathon with Karin...though I probably wouldn’t have driven into Sacramento for a T-shirt. That one is all yours.”
“Are all girls their age like that?”
Skylar shrugged before realizing it was too dark for him to see the gesture. “Got me. Anyway, Karin’s bag is packed, and she’s in bed, asleep.”
“Melanie is, too. I left a note and ran away from home.”
“You’d better run back,” Skylar advised before she was tempted to let him kiss her again.
In his own inept way, he was trying to do right by both girls. She’d been impatient, watching his awkwardness with Melanie, but it was difficult to learn parenting when you were starting with a teenager. Heaven knew how she would have done getting thrown into it suddenly. She should have been more sympathetic—he hadn’t gotten his nerves conditioned the way most parents do by the twelve years of chills and thrills that led up to a child becoming a teen.
“By the way,” Aaron said. “Will you go into Sacramento with me tomorrow after you close the Nibble Nook? I need to do more shopping and would appreciate your advice.”
“Isn’t one trip to the city this week enough?”
“It’s for furniture. I want to fix up the family room so it’s comfortable for Melanie. I’m sure you have a better idea of what’s needed than me—I’ve always just called a decorator to take care of that kind of thing.”
Skylar pictured the large room opening off the kitchen. The empty space was cold and uninviting, and for Melanie’s sake, it definitely needed fixing up.
“All right.”
“Thanks.”
Aaron tugged her close, and his hands crept down her back, cupping her bottom and pulling her snug to his body as he kissed her thoroughly.
Damn him.
He really did know how to do it well.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I UNDERSTAND, Mr. Newman,” Melanie said into her cell phone. The teachers had made them turn off their phones on the bus, but she’d checked once they’d arrived in San Francisco and discovered the lawyer had left a message.
Karin couldn’t listen to what the lawyer was saying—they didn’t dare put the phone on loudspeaker in case the other students came close enough to hear them.
They were visiting the old Spanish Mission, and she and Karin had gone out to the cemetery to return Mr. Newman’s call. It was creepy being there, and she tried not to look at the gravestones. What if there were ghosts? Would they be angry because they got woken up by a bunch of kids?
“Be sure to call if there’s any problem or you decide you want to file the papers to be emancipated,” said Mr. Newman. “And I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Your brother or parents may still respond to my letter.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, Mellie. Good luck.”
She disconnected and looked at Karin. “Mr. Newman hasn’t heard anything from Aaron or my parents. He mentioned filing to be an emancipated minor again and said he’d help if that’s what I want to do, but I can’t make up my mind. I don’t want my family to think I don’t love them anymore.”
“Yeah. I hadn’t thought of that.”
Melanie wrinkled her nose. “He isn’t going to charge anything—he probably wrote the letter because he felt bad for me. But I have another idea. If we’re nice to my brother and I don’t make trouble, he might let me stay until I finish high school.”
Karin brightened. “That’s better than boarding school and you’d still be in Cooperton.”
“Lots better. And you know, Aaron is trying really hard to take care of me, much more than anywhere else I’ve lived. I like him a lot.”
“Yeah, he isn’t so bad now that he’s not arguing as much with my mom and saying the Nibble Nook is a bad place.”
“Uh-huh.” Melanie didn’t understand why Aaron had acted that way. “Maybe he’s just too old to understand teenagers.”
“That must be it.”
Melanie saw Mr. Rosecrans, one of the teachers on the trip, coming their direction and quickly hid her smartphone.
“Don’t forget you’re doing a paper on the San Francisco Mission in my class,” he reminded them. “You’d best get moving or you won’t have time to see it all.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hurried away, and they decided to visit the little museum first. It was beautiful and interesting and sad, because the Native Americans weren’t always treated so well at the Missions and got sick and died with diseases the settlers brought with them. Melanie was glad it had happened a long time ago, or it would be too awful to learn about.
“You’ll like this,” Karin said when they got to the gift shop and she was reading something off a shelf. “It says the first California book was written at the Mission, the Life of Junipero Serra. I bet it’s short—they didn’t have computers back then.”
Melanie wavered over what to buy and finally got one of the books about the Mission, and postcards to send to her mother and father. It was strange not being able to spend as much as she wanted, but the school had only let students bring a certain amount of cash with them, and using the credit card her father had sent her probably wouldn’t be allowed.
Still, it was okay being normal like the other kids and having to pick and choose.
* * *
SKYLAR GAVE A pained smile to Aaron as they entered their third furniture store on Monday evening. She should have warned him that she didn’t put up with unctuous salespeople easily. So far she’d kept from losing her temper, but if they got shown another ugly, overpriced living room set, she couldn’t guarantee what would happen.
“Hello,” said an eager voice before they’d gone ten feet. “My name is Gary. What can I do for you?”
“I want to furnish a large family room,” Aaron replied. “Suitable for my teenage sister. Right now it’s a blank slate. No couch, nothing.”
“I’m sure we have just what you need. Come this way.”
Gary led them to various displays of furniture better suited to a baroque mansion than a house in Cooperton, and when Aaron shook his head, kept moving to new displays. Frustrated, the salesman finally pointed to a formal couch that looked hideously uncomfortable. “I’m sure you’ll like this one. It’s my favorite piece in the store.”
Aaron looked at Skylar. “What do you think?”
She thumped the solid cushions. “Uh...how about something softer?”
“Like pink or a pattern with flowers?” he asked doubtfully.
“No. Softer, with cushions that don’t break bones if you throw yourself down the way teenagers fling themselves onto a couch. It should squash a little, for long chats on the phone or movie marathons.” She looked at the discreet price tag and ro
lled her eyes. “And it shouldn’t cost so much that spilled nachos are a problem,” she added.
The salesman glared at her from behind Aaron’s back. He had pegged the situation instantly—Aaron carried the platinum credit card with no spending limits, while she was a working gal on a budget. She could practically hear him thinking, She’s not even a girlfriend.
“Quality will tell, sir,” Gary said smoothly. “What your friend doesn’t realize is that we can apply a treatment to the fabric to resist stains. You needn’t worry about spills.”
“You don’t have teenagers, do you?” Skylar asked drily.
“I...no.”
“I didn’t think so. A teenager can stain anything. And they never keep their shoes off the couch. Tar, chewing gum, grease—it all goes on the upholstery.”
The corners of Aaron’s mouth twitched.
“Well, really.” The salesman didn’t make an effort to hide his glare this time.
“Yes, really. Stop trying to palm off overpriced stuff you haven’t been able to sell. I can guess how long this couch has been sitting here as a display model—it took time for that much dust to build up in the corners.”
“I beg your pardon, that’s the latest style we car—”
“Don’t fight with her—you’ll lose,” Aaron interrupted. “And I think you’ve misunderstood the situation—you mess with Skylar, and you mess with me. Send someone else to help us.” He put an arm around her waist and tugged her close.
Gary loosened his collar. “Yes, sir.”
Skylar glanced up at Aaron once they were alone. “I didn’t need you to defend me, but it was very gallant.”
“No problem. I didn’t like him anyway.”
They probably did appear incongruous together. Aaron was no longer wearing suits to the office; instead he’d adopted a new style—a white shirt, tie and sport jacket topped well-used jeans, and his shoes were understated tan suede instead of polished leather. A fashionista would probably call it shabby chic, but whatever it was called, it looked fantastic...or maybe it just looked fantastic on him.
She, on the other hand, was dressed in her usual jeans—with mustard smeared on one knee—a faded T-shirt and athletic shoes that had seen better days...three years ago. Dressing up to sling hamburgers did not make sense.
“What did Peggy say when you ditched your fancy suits?” Skylar asked as they wandered around without waiting for the next salesperson to find them. He’d told her a few things about the executive assistant he’d inherited from his grandfather, and she sounded formidable.
“Nothing. She had a heart attack when she saw me and has been in the hospital ever since.”
Skylar dug an elbow into his side, and he laughed.
“All right, all right. I think she likes it. I’ve noticed she’s relaxed her own dress code and looks twenty years younger.”
It was more comfortable without a salesperson hovering over them, and it wasn’t long before they found everything needed for the family room. Aaron had already purchased a huge flat-screen television and other assorted electronics, and was able to convince the furniture store to deliver his order to Cooperton the next day...for a hefty bonus.
It seemed an awful lot of money to spend so quickly, but Aaron didn’t look at price tags, so Skylar supposed he could afford the expense. And it was endearing that he wanted to create a cozy space for his sister.
“I’m hungry. Is a steak house okay with you?” he asked as they were heading out of town.
“Sure.”
He pulled into a restaurant parking lot. “I’ve eaten here before—the food is decent and they have a variety of choices.”
Skylar knew she should have insisted on going straight back to Cooperton. With Karin on a school trip she could be doing something useful like mopping the kitchen floor or cleaning out the freezer, but it wouldn’t be a disaster to take a night off. Of course, it would likely end up being two nights, since she’d promised to come over before Melanie got home to be sure the new furniture was properly arranged.
* * *
AARON SHOVED FURNITURE around the family room for more than an hour the next evening, trying unsuccessfully to keep Skylar from helping with the heavy lifting. When they were finally done, he looked around and smiled—the room was warm and inviting, just what he wanted for his sister.
Aside from his grandparents, he hadn’t told anyone that he might keep Melanie longer. He still had misgivings, but how could he let her be sent to a boarding school when she dreaded it so much?
Karin was another question he hadn’t resolved.
He was quite fond of the teenager. She was smart and funny and a loyal friend. She deserved the best future, and Skylar was working to give it to her. When it came right down to it, the kid didn’t need him, but if she was his daughter, he should be part of her life.
Turning abruptly on his heel, Aaron went into the kitchen. He’d always said he didn’t want to be a father and had religiously avoided women with baby booties on their minds. Now he didn’t know what he wanted...or if he’d screwed up any chance he’d had of getting it.
“I picked up food from Vittorino’s,” Aaron said gruffly. “It just has to be reheated.”
“Sounds good.” Skylar leaned her elbows on the broad counter providing separation between the kitchen and family room, or great room, as the rental agent had called it. No doubt she’d think great room sounded pretentious.
He took a container from one of the bags and pulled off the covering. “Have some appetizers. We also have chicken piccata, pasta primavera, lasagna, something made with polenta that I can’t pronounce and various desserts.”
“What were you trying to do, feed an army?” She came around and began putting the foil containers in the oven.
Aaron’s breath caught in his throat. Her hair was mussed and her face flushed from moving furniture, yet she’d never been more beautiful. Their chaste goodbye kiss the night before had left him awake half the night. Cold showers were woefully ineffective when it came to a woman like Skylar.
And now he was aching again...which was exactly what had gotten him into trouble almost fifteen years ago, Aaron reminded himself grimly. He might have been trying to win a bet with his buddies, but he’d wanted her before they had challenged him. The contrast between Skylar’s passionate nature and his grandparents’ reserve had been nearly irresistible.
And she was still passionate, still quick to anger, and electricity still hummed whenever he was near her. And she was still nearly irresistible.
“What?” Skylar asked, her eyes narrowing at his silence.
“Nothing.”
It was a lie. He was wondering if he’d missed out on something important when he was a teenager...something that could have changed his life if he’d recognized it at the time. And he wondered if there was any way to get that something back
“The food shouldn’t take that long to heat—it was still warm,” she said.
“Shall we inaugurate the television and watch a movie while we eat? We can see if that stuff they put on the furniture really helps keep it from staining.”
Skylar laughed, just as he’d intended. “Actually, stain repellant works well, but kids have a gift for demolition—food, Kool-Aid, bicycle grease—you name it. And don’t get me started on what they can do with a hot glue gun.”
“And you didn’t mind it a bit, right?”
“Not really. I wanted Karin to have a happy childhood, and all of that was trivial. Heavens, you should have seen the time she painted her grandparents’ cat.”
She went on, recounting how her four-year-old daughter had used black paint to put zebra stripes on the elder Gibsons’ white alley cat. The feline hadn’t scratched her once, saving his venom for Joe and Grace when they were giving it a bath.
“That poor animal h
ad blotchy, grayish stripes for weeks,” Skylar said, shaking her head. “And it took almost that long for the scratches to heal.”
“I hope the paint wasn’t toxic.”
“No, but it wouldn’t have been healthy to ingest. Oh, I brought one of the family albums. You could look at it after the movie,” she said. “It’s in my backpack.”
“Forget the movie. I’d like to see it now.”
Aaron sat next to Skylar on the new sectional couch and opened the book. The album started with a photo of Skylar in a hospital bed, looking young and scared and happy, holding a bundle in her arms with a tiny pink face barely visible within the blankets. He gazed at it a long time, a painful sensation in his stomach; he’d missed so much.
Next to the picture of Skylar was the usual “first” baby picture of Karin, also from the hospital, with hair swirled into a peak on her head. Two plastic envelopes were affixed to the page, the first containing a tiny curl of white blond hair, the second holding one of rich auburn.
“She was beautiful.”
“We always thought so.”
We?
We, as in Skylar and the elder Gibsons? Or we, as in Skylar and her husband? And would a phantom Jimmie Gibson be forever included in everything Skylar thought and did? Aaron involuntarily looked down and saw her wedding ring was gone.
“Uh...where’s your ring?”
She put her hands together, running her right thumb over the indentation of pale skin on the third finger of her left hand. “I put it in my jewelry box a few days ago. It’s too loose and got lost in the garden once already.”
It was odd that he hadn’t noticed the ring’s absence before; he’d looked at it often enough over the past weeks, thinking about her husband and what they’d had together. It was a hell of a thing to envy a dead man.
Aaron glanced at Skylar. Her green eyes were faintly melancholy, and he wanted to wipe the expression away. Hell, might as well be honest...he wanted her to forget Jimmie Gibson and everything he’d meant to her. But that wasn’t possible, and it was damned selfish, considering how well the other man had raised Karin.
Winning Over Skylar Page 24
