Shoe Strings

by Christy Hayes

  “No problem.” He moved behind the desk, took a seat in his old leather chair, and hit send to the address she’d given him. “All set.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Bryce.” She leaned down to give him a hug and her mass of curling dark hair felt like feathers against his cheek. “I owe you big time.”

  “Work on that men’s line and we’ll deal.”

  At the door, she stopped and turned to face him. “How would you like to come to dinner tonight? I’m a pretty good cook.”

  Hum. Beautiful woman, home cooked meal. He should be more interested, but, truth was, he was in too poor a mood to be good company. “I’ll take a rain check.”

  She looked seriously disappointed. “You’d actually be doing me a favor.” She moved toward his desk. “Jesse’s coming and I’m not sure I want to be alone with him.” She scrunched her nose, as if waiting for him to comment.

  Bryce sat up in his chair and put his elbows on the desk. “How’d Jesse finagle an invitation, especially if you’re not sure about him?”

  “He changed my tire today and I was feeling especially generous.” She moved opposite him and sat in one of the Chippendale chairs. “Any words of advice?”

  Take him to bed so Kerri Ann will get over him. “Well, you’re talking about Sequoyah Falls’ most eligible bachelor. Although, truth be told, I haven’t seen him with anyone lately.”

  “Does he still have a thing for Kerri Ann?”

  “Jesse?” The million dollar question. When Jesse had returned home after three years away, Bryce had thought his time was up, thought he’d blown his only opportunity to make a life with Kerri Ann and Ty. He assumed she’d jump at the chance to have Jesse back again. But she’d shown no interest in getting back together with Jesse and he seemed too interested in making up for lost time with Ty and getting his rafting business afloat.

  “Hard to say, as she’s the last thing he’d talk to me about. I can tell you that after he saw us at the Pizza Den together, he called and asked a bunch of questions about you.”

  “He did?” By her hopeful expression, he knew she was more interested than she’d admit.

  Bryce held up three fingers. “Scouts honor. Listen, Lita, I’m not a good person to ask about relationships and such, but I grew up with Jesse and he’s a good guy. He was…confused for awhile, but now he’s just been working and spending as much time with Ty as possible, much to Kerri Ann’s chagrin.”

  “You care about her, Kerri Ann?”

  Was it that obvious? “Let’s just say she’s one of the things here I can’t seem to live without.” She’s why he’d come home. He’d set up his practice in the mountain town he’d always considered home and waited for her to come to him. And with every shoulder he offered her to cry on, every favor he obliged, he waited. He was damned tired of waiting.

  Chapter 7

  Jesse had been feeling like a kid again. He’d found Ty and his dad, knee deep in mud, dredging the culvert that kept the spring thaw water in the streambed and away from the cabins. It always made him chuckle to see Ty doing all the chores he used to be forced to do as a teenager. The old man was a slave driver.

  He’d dropped off Angelita’s tire, ordered the part for his ATV, and delivered Ty to the Pizza Den where Kerri Ann cussed for five straight minutes about the muddy mess his shoes left on her freshly mopped floor. He’d snuck out the back when she was mid-rage and was headed back home for a quick shower. He had a date. She’d invited him, although somewhat begrudgingly, for dinner—alone—at her cabin. He’d been damn near floating on air.

  Until he saw Angelita skipping down the stairs of Bryce’s office. What the hell was up with her and Jenson anyway? He’d already embarrassed himself and called to get the scoop on Bryce and Angelita like a love struck high schooler. Bryce had assured him he was just welcoming a visitor to town, but after seeing her leave his office, smiling and bubbly, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling he had some competition for Angelita’s affection. And didn’t that just suck, considering she was the first woman to spark his interest in…he couldn’t remember how long.

  As he headed up the road to his house, he thought it ironic that he and Bryce were once again fighting over the same woman. Some things really didn’t change. He and Bryce had struggled for Kerri Ann’s attention all those years ago and Jesse knew he’d won by default. If you’d call their pitiful excuse for a marriage winning. Those were the most painful, regretful years of Jesse’s life. Truth be told, he was grateful to Bryce for coming back to town just when Jesse took off. Bryce had been there for Kerri Ann and Ty while Jesse was sewing his oats and grieving for his mother in the big city.

  He showered quickly, pulled on a clean pair of jeans, threw a button-down over his t-shirt, and grabbed a bottle of wine before heading out the door. As promised, the tire sat waiting outside Bobby Joe’s closed garage doors and Jesse managed to load it without getting dirty. He drove up to Cal’s, wondering what the old man would think of Angelita inviting him to dinner. He’d probably think what he usually did when Jesse took an interest in a woman—that she’d be smart to steer clear. Oh well, Jesse couldn’t blame his dad for his knee jerk reaction or do much about it.

  He heard music when he cut the engine, something slow and smooth. He unloaded her tire from the back of the Scout and rolled it to a rest by the stairs. He didn’t see how he could put the tire back under the car without getting filthy and decided to use it as another excuse to swing by and see Angelita again. Of course, if the evening went as he hoped, he wouldn’t need an excuse.

  She answered the door wearing a flowing skirt, form-fitting top, and another pair of heels that showcased her fabulous legs. Her hair was down and, much to his delight, her makeup looked freshly applied. There was no doubt in his mind, her invitation was a date. “You look beautiful.” He stepped inside the cabin and placed the wine in her hand. “And you smell even better.”

  She laughed, a throaty chuckle that made his toes tingle. “Are you referring to me or my cooking?”

  Jesse took her comment as an invitation and leaned in to sniff the exotic scent of her hair. The silky strands brushed his cheek and he longed to wrap a curl around his finger and pull her closer. “I’d say both, but then again, you know I’m partial to Cal’s shampoo.”

  “This is my own variety.” She moved to the kitchen and motioned to an open bottle of wine on the counter. “Would you like some or would you prefer a beer?”

  “Normally I’d say a beer, but I have a feeling whatever you’re cooking’s going to taste real nice with a glass of red.”

  “You’re a very smart man and a handy one to have around. I appreciate the tire.”

  “You’re welcome.” He accepted a half-filled glass. “I put it next to the stairs. I’ll swing by later in the week to get it back in place. There’s no way you could lift it back under the car.” He held up his hand when she looked ready to pounce. “That’s not male chauvinism, just the plain truth.”

  She considered his answer as she set a tray of marinated artichoke hearts and mushrooms between them. “I’m not going to argue with you, not after watching you change the tire.”

  She moved to the stove and stirred a delicious smelling mixture while he plopped a few of the mushrooms in his mouth. “So, what’s for dinner?”

  She smiled as she turned toward him, a woman clearly comfortable in a kitchen. She became more attractive by the second. “It’s called Moqueca de Camarao, better known as shrimp stew. I hope you don’t have a shellfish allergy?”

  “I haven’t found a food I don’t like or that doesn’t like me back.” He moved to stand behind her at the stove, leaned over to see the stew, and to gauge her reaction to his closeness. “Looks as good as it smells. Is it Spanish?”

  She didn’t back away so much as shift slightly to the side. “Brazilian. One of the few recipes I know by heart.”

  He knew she had exotic blood and hearing her mention Brazil had images of her topless in a thong bikini swimming thr
ough his mind. He’d bet she looked really good topless. “So you’re from Brazil?”

  “Brazilian by blood, American by birth.” She moved by Jesse and started setting the small dining room table.

  He leaned against the counter and handed her the napkins and silverware she’d already laid out. “Does your family live in Atlanta?”

  “My father does. My mother’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry. My mom died, what…” He looked at the ceiling, blew out a breath. It seemed like just yesterday, but it had been over a decade since she’d passed. “Almost eleven years ago.”

  “I know. Your father speaks of her often.”

  “She was the best. They had an incredible marriage.” He stabbed an artichoke heart with a toothpick and decided on another. “Of course, I guess all kids think their mom’s the best.”

  Angelita placed two birch and twig pillar candles Jesse had gotten Cal for Christmas a few years ago on the table and stepped across the counter from where Jesse stood. She sipped her wine and lifted her dark eyes to his. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you wouldn’t know?”

  She waved her hand in front of her face as if to dismiss her answer. “It’s a long story.”

  And one he had to hear. “We’ve got all night.”

  She joined Jesse in the kitchen and turned the fire on under the rice. “We have about twenty minutes until dinner. Would you like to sit on the porch?”

  “I’d like you to tell me why you didn’t know your mother.”

  Her hand paused as she reached for her wine. “Why?”

  “Because your eyes got all sad when you said it.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over the delicate skin under her eye. She didn’t flinch, but he could tell it was a struggle. “And because you’ve been here for almost a week now and I’m sure you can recite my entire childhood back to me, thanks to Cal.”

  She laughed, covered the rice, lowered the fire to simmer, and faced him. “It’s no big deal. She lived in Brazil, we lived in Atlanta. She died when I was four.” She shrugged her shoulders and, picking up her wine, headed for the back deck.

  Jesse followed, determined to keep her talking. He loved puzzles and the more pieces she revealed, the more fascinated he became. They settled into adjacent chairs at the table on the porch and the two cats immediately pounced. The black cat jumped on Jesse’s lap and the brown and gray striped cat rubbed his head against Angelita’s ankles. “Why did your mom live in Brazil when you and your dad were in Atlanta?”

  “You couldn’t possibly want to hear this.” She seemed bothered by his insistence and her reaction only made Jesse more curious.

  “You couldn’t possibly believe that’s true,” he countered in the same tone she’d used.

  She rolled her eyes and took another sip of wine. “They were divorced.”

  “Why didn’t she stay in Atlanta? And if she wanted to leave, why didn’t she take you with her?”

  “Jesse, my parents didn’t have the kind of marriage your parents did. They weren’t in love. Ever.”

  “Then why did they get married?” His own miserable marriage popped to mind. “Because of you?”

  “You’re relentless, you know that?”

  He smiled. “It’s one of my better qualities.” He kept his eyes on her and stroked the cat that had settled on his lap. “You were saying?”

  She twisted the clunky silver ring on her right hand. “My father was—is—the Brazilian consulate in Atlanta. When his appointment came through, he needed a wife. He met my mother at a club. He called it a dance club.”

  That would explain her fabulous body, he imagined.

  “They married and moved to the States. My mother was…” She paused, swirled the wine in her glass, “flamboyant was the word my father used most often to describe her. High-spirited was another. The long and short of it is, she was an embarrassment to him. They fought, regularly. When she got pregnant, he was furious.”

  “How do you know all of this? Did your father tell you?”

  “Oh no, he didn’t speak of her, especially not to me. Unless I did something to embarrass him and he’d mention our similarities. We had household staff and my nannies--I say plural because they never stayed for long--they would tell me things they’d heard. I had so many questions about her, about them.”

  “So what did he do when she got pregnant?”

  “Nothing. He’s a devout Catholic and abortion was out of the question. Their relationship disintegrated, as did her behavior during the pregnancy.” She put her wine on the table, began nervously twisting the ring again. “His tolerance for her theatrics was very low. At eight months along, she made arrangements to leave him. She did leave him, in fact. But Mother Nature had other plans.” At the sound of the buzzer she rose, gently shooing away the cat with her foot. “Saved by the bell.”

  Jesse sat in the chair, stroking the cat and thinking about how Angelita had spoken about her lonely and difficult childhood. He’d expected…something from this evening, but not that she’d tug on his heartstrings before the meal was served. He placed the sleeping cat on the cushion he abandoned and went back inside where Angelita was scooping the steaming stew over a wide bowl of rice.

  “Can I help with anything?”

  She motioned to a loaf of bread she’d placed on the counter as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink. “You can cut the bread and put it in the bread basket.”

  Jesse did as instructed, set the basket on the table, and lit the candles. When Angelita carried their bowls to the table, he flipped the switch on the overhead light and settled at the table. He watched her as the candlelight made soft shadows play over her golden skin; her dark eyes seemed huge in her face. He scooped up a big bite and savored the meal she’d prepared for him. “It’s really good.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  He was glad to see some humor return to her eyes, as their earlier conversation had left her melancholy. But they weren’t even close to finished. “So, you were saying something about Mother Nature?”

  “Don’t you want to talk about something else? Tell me about Ty, about your business.”

  “We’ll get to that, Angelita.” He reached out and patted her hand. “What happened?”

  She huffed out a breath. “My mother left my father. She was heading back to Brazil when her water broke. She delivered me at the airport. There was a film crew there, something about a possible pilots’ strike, and they captured the whole thing on film. I was the lead story on the eleven o’clock news.” She took a bite, carefully placed her spoon on the plate. “The publicity wasn’t good for their situation. She was forced to stay, at least until the attention died down. Six months later she left again with his blessing.”

  “But why didn’t she take you?”

  “The public knew they’d had a baby. The divorce was a big enough scandal in Brazil. If she’d taken me away from him…” She shrugged. “It would have looked bad for him. Very bad.”

  “Did she ever come back or try to contact you after she left?”

  “There were some letters from my grandmother after my mother died. The family owned a small restaurant. My mother was making a deposit one afternoon and was shot as she got into her car. She was killed instantly.”

  For something that happened so long ago, and before she could form any memories, she spoke as if her mother was an important part of her life. “You miss her.”

  “I was four, so I never knew her.”

  But she longed to; he could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. Nannies, no matter how nice, were not substitutes. Isn’t that half the reason he’d run all those years ago—to escape the grief he’d felt over losing his mother? “And your grandparents? Her parents?”