by Grace, Carol
“Got one of each. The two of them drive around the country in their RV visiting the grandchildren. Dad loves it here as much as I do. While mother goes hunting for antiques, he goes hunting for quail.”
Suzy ran her fingers along the smooth iron headboard.
“Well,” he said, “the bathroom’s across the hall. There are some shirts in the closet. Take what you need.” And he was gone.
Suzy stood in the middle of the room in a state of semishock, staring at the door he’d closed behind him. She’d known him for all the years he’d been in Harmony, worked for him for a year—and had never known anything about Brady’s family. Or that Brady had been decorated for bravery. Or that Brady was as expert at handling a camera as he was at charming women.
She stared at the door, feeling her heart twist. As if she’d willed it, the door swung open and Brady walked in as if he owned the place. Which he did. The gleam was back in his eyes. “Forgot something,” he said with a wicked grin.
Chapter Seven
He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her around, slid his hands down her back until they rested on her hips. Then he untied her apron and tossed it across the room. “I’ve been wanting to do that all evening,” he said. She shivered uncontrollably in the warm night air. And wondered what he’d take off next.
“And this,” he said lifting her hair off the nape of her neck and kissing her. His lips were warm on her cool skin. He made her feel so vulnerable, and yet so safe and secure at the same time.
He kissed the tender spot behind her ear, then he nibbled on her earlobe. She froze, dizzy with longing. Afraid to move. Afraid he’d leave. More afraid he wouldn’t leave.
“Brady...”
“I know. I’m leaving.” And he did. Again.
She sat on the edge of the bed and took her stockings off, then lay facedown, burying her face in the green-and-white-pinstriped pillowcase, listening to his footsteps in the hall. She heard thumping in the room next door and imagined him taking his clothes off. Hanging his pants in the closet. Tossing his shirt on the floor. His underwear next. What kind of underwear? she wondered suddenly. Boxers or what?
She pictured his body stretched out on those navy plaid sheets and she moaned. The longing grew and swelled inside her until she couldn’t stand it. She rolled off the bed and went to the door and stuck her head out. Nobody in the hall. The bathroom door was open and steam was in the air. Nobody in the bathroom. Not now.
Nobody in the bathroom but his toothbrush was there, his damp towel, his shampoo and his aftershave all flooding her senses with reminders of him. The mirror was steamed up and the room smelled like him. Spicy and sexy. She locked the door. But why bother? He was as good as there, his things driving her wild with desire. She took her dress off and stepped into the tub-shower combination, pulled the shower curtain closed and began washing him out of her hair and her mind and her life. Because if she didn’t, it wouldn’t matter if she went to the diner or entered a nunnery. She’d have no chance of finding Mr. Right.
She wrapped a towel around her head and another one around her body, knotting it above her breasts. Then ever so slowly, she opened the door and stuck her head out. And ran across the hall to the guest room. As if she was afraid he’d be standing there waiting for her. Waiting to catch a glimpse of her in a towel. As if he had nothing better to do. As if he hadn’t fallen asleep already.
She leaned back against the door, breathing hard as if she’d run the marathon instead of the three steps from the bathroom. Then she pulled the sliding door open and looked into the walk-in closet. A crisp white dress shirt and a blazer. Gray slacks. The clothes he’d worn for campaigning and wouldn’t likely wear again. Until the next election. She also saw a flannel shirt and more shirts. She let her towel drop to the floor and took a striped, button-down Oxford cloth shirt off the hanger.
She slept in the shirt, inhaling laundry soap and the smell of Brady, that seductive mix of tobacco and leather and outdoors. If that wasn’t enough to keep her awake, the fabric rubbed against her sensitive skin in all the most susceptible and erotic zones as she tossed and turned and replayed the evening from the champagne in the bathtub incident right up to that last seductive kiss on the back of the neck. Heat flooded her body. She tossed off the plaid blanket, then the pin-striped sheets. Her whole body throbbed with blazing hot desire.
What did it mean? Nothing. All it meant was that she was overwrought from the election campaign. It was natural she’d react in a strange and unpredictable way. By tomorrow everything would be back to normal. Just in case it wasn’t, she’d leave before he woke up. Just as he’d done at her house. She’d make the bed, hang up her towel and he’d forget she’d even been there.
She’d take Travis to the park tomorrow, then do her errands, church on Sunday and presto—everything would be back to normal. Of course, getting used to working at the diner might require a slight adjustment.
But hey, adjusting to a new and different situation was a good way to forget anything she wanted to forget. Such as Brady and his sizzling kisses. Such as Brady and his big, unused, half-lived-in house. She shivered and pulled the sheets and then the blanket up to her chin. But she didn’t sleep. Not with him next door. Not with the sound of someone tossing and turning. Or was that her imagination? More than likely he was sleeping soundly. What had happened between them tonight was just something that had grown out of the excitement of the victory party.
At the crack of dawn she was back in her dress, tiptoeing out of the house, shoes in her hand. She took one last, lingering look at the big old converted barn in the middle of five acres of brush and oak trees before she started her car. Then she went home. The home that had always seemed cozy and now seemed small and overcrowded with Travis’s toys and the furniture she’d collected at garage sales. Overcrowded on the inside and overcrowded on the outside by neighbors on both sides.
She changed into jeans and a T-shirt and went to pick up Travis at her mother’s. When she got there her mother asked about the party.
“It was fine,” Suzy said, fighting off fatigue and letdown and other emotions too confusing to sort out. “I think most of the people had a good time.”
Her mother gave her a searching glance. “What about you?”
“I wasn’t there to have a good time, I was there to help Brady. It was part of my job.”
“What time did you get home last night?”
“Mom, I’m thirty-one years old,” she said indignantly.
Her mother’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Just wondering.”
“It was so late and I was so tired, I spent the night,” Suzy admitted. “In the guest room.”
“Of course.” Her mother poured Suzy a cup of coffee. “Well, it must be a relief to have it over. The job and the campaign.”
“Yes, it is,” Suzy said, stuffing Travis’s blanket into the tote bag.
“On the other hand,” her mother said.
“There is no other hand, Mom. It’s a relief, period.”
“What’s Brady going to do without you?” her mother asked while Travis picked Cheerios off the tray of his high chair.
“That’s up to him. I tried to find a replacement, but he didn’t like any of them. Maybe he thinks he doesn’t need an assistant.”
“Or maybe he thinks you’re irreplaceable.”
Suzy sighed. “I don’t know what Brady thinks. He’s on his own now. On Monday morning I start at the diner. Is seven o’clock too early to bring Travis by?”
“Of course not,” her mother said, lifting Travis out of his high chair and hugging him tightly. “I’m going to miss him when I move to Vegas.”
“He’ll miss you too, Mom. So will I.” Suzy felt the tears spring to her eyes. What was wrong with her? Getting all emotional over this move that had been pending for the past year. She was a thirty-one-year-old mother. And happy for her own mother, who’d never wanted a small-town life, who’d always yearned for more to do in the evenings than Bingo game
s in the church basement. Now her mother, after years of taking care of others, after her dad had died of a lingering and debilitating illness, was finally getting a chance to live the life she wanted. Then why was she crying?
“What’s wrong?” her mother asked anxiously.
“I don’t know. You’re leaving. I’m changing jobs. Everything’s different, everything’s changing.”
“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing quitting your job?” her mother asked.
“I’m not sure about anything, except for one thing. I want to get married. I’ve always wanted to get married and have kids. I see how happy my friends are. I saw how happy you and Dad were. Now it’s my turn. Oh yes, one more thing I’m sure of. I never would have found anybody to marry while I was working for Brady. During the past year at his office I came into contact with a lot of men. There were at least two welfare cheats, four cattle rustlers and six horse thieves. None of which would have made good husband and father material.”
As if he understood, Travis looked up and said, “Mama.”
“Yes, sweetheart, Mama’s trying to find you a da-da.”
“I thought Tally fixed you up with someone,” her mother said.
“Yes, someone. Someone who doesn’t stay in one place for more than a few days. Some playboy who flies all over, on business or pleasure. Travis needs a father who’s there for him. And besides, the guy was boring.”
“So he has to be exciting.”
“No, of course not. In fact, I don’t want anyone too exciting. That’s what got me into trouble the last time. Falling for Jared for all the wrong reasons.”
“Sex appeal?” her mother suggested.
“And a killer smile, great body...well, you know, you saw him.”
“Briefly.”
“Briefly, exactly. He breezed through town briefly. Swept me off my feet, and he was gone.” Suzy shook her head. “I won’t make that mistake again. Confusing lust with love. Not that I’m looking for either. No, I’ve learned my lesson. Now that I think about it, boring would be okay. Certainly preferable to what I had.”
“Just don’t rush into anything, will you?” her mother asked. “You deserve the best. I know I’m prejudiced but you have a lot to offer a man. You’re a great mother, a wonderful cook and truthfully, you’re a beautiful woman.”
Suzy hugged her mother. “Good heavens, Mom, it’s a good thing you’re not prejudiced, I’d hate to hear what you’d have to say then.”
“It will all work out,” her mother said. “I feel it in my bones. And when I get that feeling, I’m never wrong.”
Suzy grinned. “Are you sure that isn’t your arthritis?”
Her mother propped her hands on her hips. “I don’t have arthritis. I’ve got a mother’s intuition. You’ve got it too. You inherited it from me. So don’t ignore your feelings. And don’t settle for boring. Don’t settle for less than anything less than perfect. Because you deserve it.”
Unable to speak, Suzy nodded and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek.
On Monday morning, a little after seven, Suzy swept by Brady’s office in her car. Brady never came in until nine, unless there was an emergency, so she felt safe unlocking the front door with the key she hadn’t yet turned in. But there he was, standing in front of his desk, his arms crossed over his waist, his eyebrows raised.
“I knew you’d be back. I knew you couldn’t take it,” he said.
She wished she could wipe the smug smile off his face.
“I came to pick up some stuff I left behind.”
“You mean you’re going through with this ridiculous plan?” he demanded.
“Yes, Brady, yes. I’m late already, so I’ll just—” She started toward her office, but he grabbed her arm.
“You’ll just what? Make a few long distance calls, fill your purse with paper clips and Post-it pads?”
Wide-eyed, she stared at him, astounded at his words. Was he kidding? Kidding or not, she realized how ludicrous it was that she would come back to pilfer some office supplies and she started laughing. Laughing helplessly until the tears ran down her cheeks.
It was Brady’s turn to be astounded. He stood there watching her as if she’d gone berserk.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she’d caught her breath. “It wasn’t that funny. It’s just that lately I’m a little off balance.” Off balance was putting it mildly. All weekend long she’d found her eyes tearing up at the slightest provocation. At the sight of Travis’s baby clothes, or hearing an old song on the radio. Anything. And now this, laughing hysterically at nothing. “Like when I tried to walk across your kitchen floor. I wasn’t really drunk or anything. I want you to know that.”
“And I want you to know how inconsiderate it was of you to leave without saying goodbye.”
“Me? Inconsiderate? You have a lot of nerve saying that after that night on my couch. I got up to make breakfast for you and you were gone.”
“What were you going to make?” he asked, leaning back against his desk and surveying her through narrowed eyes.
“Waffles. Pancakes. Hash browns. Whatever.” The minutes were ticking by. She was going to be late for her new job on the first day. And he was acting like she had all the time in the world.
“What about hush puppies and grits?” he asked.
“Yes, those, too.” She looked at her watch. “Let’s call a truce, okay? You left without saying goodbye and so did I. We’re even. We could argue about it all day, but I have to get going. First I’m going to get the pictures I left on my wall. The ones of Travis. You can come and watch to see that I don’t lift anything that doesn’t belong to me, like the half roll of Scotch tape I left in my drawer.” -
“I took the pictures down,” he said. “I thought you didn’t want them.”
He reached into his desk drawer, brought out a manila envelope and handed it to her. She pulled the photos out.
“Where’s the one of me and Travis on his birthday?” she asked.
He shrugged. “If I find it, I’ll let you know.”
She thought about insisting he find it then and now, but she didn’t have the time and energy for another argument, so she pressed her lips together, clamped the envelope under her arm and rushed out of the office.
Brady watched her dash out to her car from his window. He stared at the empty street for a long time. He’d been alone before. He’d been alone and he hadn’t minded. He’d liked it. But he didn’t like it now. He hated it. His house was not a home, it was a big, empty barn. The room where she’d slept still smelled of her perfume. The disappointment he’d felt when he woke up and found her gone still rankled.
The office was eerily quiet. He wanted to hear Suzy’s voice in the next room, wanted to see her sashay into his office with a sheaf of papers to sign. He wanted her to perch on the corner of his desk, her skirt riding up over her knees, and tell him what had happened while he was out. He wanted to see her eyes flash when she got mad. That’s why he’d accused her of running off with the office supplies. Just to get her riled. He wanted something to happen. A break-in, a dispute over water rights, anything. But nothing did.
Finally he went to his desk, reached into his top drawer and took out the picture of Suzy and Travis behind an enormous cake with one candle on top. Travis was leaning forward, his cheeks pink with excitement. Suzy was smiling at the camera, looking like she might burst with pride. It was all he had left of her, and he wasn’t giving it back. She could get another one made. She had the negative. He had nothing.
Suzy changed into a green uniform in the ladies’ room behind the kitchen, hoping Will, the owner of the diner, hadn’t seen her come in a half hour late. But he had.
“We’re really busy on Monday mornings,” Will told her. “I thought I told you to come in early. Now there’s no time to teach you the ropes. But you’ll catch on. Here’s your apron, pencil and pad. Those are your tables. Good luck.”
Good luck? She’d need more than luck. The place was packed
. Farmers and ranchers sat on the stools at the counter, and the booths were crowded with more ranchers and farmers and an occasional wife or girlfriend. Suzy stood in the corner, her pencil behind her ear, and her eyes glazed over. Her mouth was so dry her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her feet were made of clay. The cacophony of voices sent the noise level way over acceptable standards, the jukebox was blaring, and her stomach was growling. What had she done? Why had she given up a respectable job in an office for this?
She finally forced herself to plant one foot in front of the other and walk to a table. As she took orders, she wondered when she’d have a chance to eat. The nonstop plates of waffles, pancakes, grits and hush puppies reminded her of Brady. She wondered what he was doing. She wondered if there’d been any crimes, if he’d arrested anyone. And while she was wondering, she delivered the wrong order to the wrong table.
“I didn’t order eggs.” The customer in the dusty
Stetson frowned and handed his plate back to Suzy. She would have taken it if her hands hadn’t been full of other plates.
“I’m sorry.” She looked down at her notepad in the pocket of her apron, but couldn’t read what she’d written, not at that angle. A man at the next table called to her.
“Those mine?”
“Three eggs over easy with a side of hash browns?”
He shook his head. “Scrambled with biscuits.”
She finally figured it out, but by the time she did, some of the food was cold and she had to take it back. The cook glared at her, pointed to the microwave oven where she overheated the biscuits and turned them into cardboard. The next time she came back the cook yelled at her for taking so long to pick up her orders.
She dropped a glass of orange juice on the floor, and before the janitor could mop it up, the bus boy slipped and skidded across the floor. She saw Will roll his eyes and say something to Rosalie, the cashier, but he didn’t say anything to her. Not yet. And so went the morning.
