by Diane Roth
It made him feel a very small fraction better. But it didn't do anything about Cara. He'd have to deal with that. The thought made him want to get back on the road and ride all the way to Mexico.
***
He'd put off apologizing as long as he dared. As long as he could without her thinking he was a total jackass who'd taken advantage of her. Which is exactly what he felt like.
There was no avoiding it today. Today he was going by there to pick up Ryan and take him to baseball camp at O.U. in Norman, Oklahoma. He'd drive them up and stay for a day, scouting a little, and see what the talent looked like. These kids were young, but it didn't hurt to keep his finger on the pulse of the up and coming. Ryan planned to stay the week at camp, then take off with the family of one of his friends for some mountain time in Colorado. He'd be gone for two weeks.
But before they could get on the road, Greg had to clear the air with Cara. He hadn't spoken with her all week. Not since Saturday night. There was no telling what she was thinking. And there was no getting around it. He didn't really know why he was dreading it so. Cara was a very forgiving person. And Lord knew he would feel so much better when this was out of the way. They'd go on as before. No big deal.
But the minute he looked at her, and she looked across the den at him, he knew it was a big freakin' deal. He could see it in her brown eyes clear as day. And he sensed it in her forced cheerfulness and busyness, prodding Ryan to get his stuff together. Greg recognized she was fussing and scurrying around to avoid actually dealing with him.
"Ryan Daniel, I told you to get this dirty bat bag into the garage before you left. And here it sits, right in the middle of the hall. And your filthy old cleats, too," she fussed at him uncharacteristically.
Ryan walked over and picked up the bag and shoes, a perturbed expression on his face. "All right, Mom. You don't have to be a bitch about it," he said.
Cara's eyes went round, and without thinking, Greg stepped in. "Whoa, dude. That's not gonna fly with me. You apologize for that remark," he demanded.
Ryan slung the bag over his shoulder, then looked at Greg. "You have no idea, Uncle Greg. It's been hell around here today."
"And your disrespect is making the situation better how?" Greg asked him. He knew it was a smartass question and probably wouldn't help the situation either, but it made him mad to see Ryan treat Cara that way. Ryan shrugged and shook his head as if Greg didn't understand at all.
"It's still not flying with me, Ryan. Apologize to your mother," Greg told him, a darker measure of warning in his voice.
Ryan finally looked at her. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too, Ryan. I'm a little stressed with you guys all leaving in different directions. I'm sorry if I've been a grouch," she said.
He said nothing else, but made his way toward the garage while Cara and Greg looked at one another.
"What the hell is that all about?" Greg asked.
"It happens from time to time. He's a lot like Jason ... gets mad and mouthy." She went back to checking luggage, but Greg easily read the stress in her body language.
"Sorry I jumped in there. It just took me by surprise."
She didn't even look at him, but kept on struggling with the zipper on Ryan's suitcase. "It's okay, Greg. He needed a little discipline. It's getting hard for me to have much authority over him. He's a head taller and outweighs me by fifty pounds now."
Greg finally took over with the zipper, gently pushing her hands away. "That doesn't give him the right to speak with you that way. It isn't right."
She straightened and found his gaze with hers. "But it's what he knows. It's exactly how his father spoke to me when he was mad."
Greg suspected as much, had actually witnessed it a time or two, though he figured Jason had taken great pains to cover it up in public. "Well, it's not a something he can't unlearn. We'll have ample opportunity to talk about that on our ride to Norman."
Ryan came back into the room, a little more sheepish, but Greg could still read the boy, and there was definitely a smolder of anger beneath the surface. "Do you have everything you need?" Greg asked him.
"Yeah."
"All right, then. Get this stuff loaded in the bed of my truck and wait for me there. I want to talk to your mother for a minute." That earned him a dark look, but Ryan did as he asked.
"Wait. I need a hug before you go. I don't think I've ever been separated from you for two whole weeks. I'm going to miss you," Cara said. She reached to hug her son, who sort of hugged her back. Greg wanted to kick his ass for his surly attitude. But there would be time for that later. Right now, he needed to deal with his own mess with Cara.
"All right, go on now. I'll be there in a few minutes," he told Ryan.
They watched him go, but as soon as the door closed Cara turned to him with a stricken look on her face. "Oh, Greg ... I feel so bad about what happened Saturday night."
He felt blindsided by that. "About what?" he asked gingerly.
She looked positively repentant and shot a look at the door to make certain her son was truly out of hearing range. "About kissing you. I have no earthly idea what came over me ... what caused me to do that. I'd blame it on the wine, but you know I wouldn't drive under the influence and put my kids in danger of becoming true orphans. There's no way I was drunk. But I didn't mean to do that. It was just the night I guess. You'd been so sweet to me. And no man's paid me any attention in forever. And you carried me across that parking lot. And you looked so sexy in that tux. I guess I lost my mind for a minute there. I'm so sorry." It had all spilled out of her in nearly one breath. And she was wringing her hands, actually wringing her hands with anxiety.
Then a new thought dawned. She thought that she'd kissed him. Wow.
"Well, aren't you going to say anything?" She looked so worried.
He reached out to comfort her, taking both her arms in his hands. "Cara ... hang on a minute."
He tried to sift through all that she'd said, but she'd said it so fast he couldn't process it. At least not while she was standing there waiting on him to say something intelligent. He drew a deep breath.
"Wow. Okay." He dropped his hands from her arms and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, then stuffed his hands in his back pockets. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous, but it had been a hell of a long time ago, that much he knew. "Okay, so I was dreading coming over here today to tell you I was sorry for kissing you." He let that dangle there for a minute for her consideration.
Sure enough. It flummoxed her. "Oh," she said, then blinked a couple of times and looked away.
"Yeah." It was all he could think of to say.
She grimaced. "Well, this is awkward."
"Oh, yeah," he said, nodding. The silence stretched for longer than was comfortable. Okay, time for him to man up. "Listen, Cara ... it was me. I knew you were going to kiss my cheek. You always kiss me on the cheek. But all that same stuff applied to me, too. I'm not gonna lie. You looked like a million bucks and felt so good in my arms when I carried you. It was too much temptation."
She shoved her own hands in her back pockets, too, and nodded.
"And we've both been lonely for a while now," he said.
"You got that right."
"We lost our heads for a minute, okay? No big deal."
She nodded again. "Right. I agree, Greg." One hand came up to ride her chest near the notch in her neck and she let her dammed up breath out in a long sigh. "Wow. I'm glad that's behind us."
"Is it then?" he asked, wanting to be sure. Wanting to make things right between them.
She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, sure. I'm fine," she said. "Are you fine?" she asked, almost an afterthought.
"Yeah. I'm good," he said, then gave her one of those awkward sideways, shoulder-to-shoulder hugs. No way he was going to feel those breasts shoved up against his chest again anytime soon.
"Good," she said. And he could tell she was relieved. "Thank you for taking Ryan. That's a long trip you saved
me."
"No sweat. I need to see what O.U. has up their athletic sleeve anyway. Won't hurt to scout things out while I'm up there. And I'm stopping back by Fort Worth tomorrow to see my old college bud, Rand Hamilton. Haven't seen him in like three years. It's all good."
"Oh, wow...I remember Rand. I didn't know you guys even talked anymore. I'm glad you're stopping by to see him."
"Yeah, it'll be good to reconnect." He moved toward the door and put his sunglasses back on. "Talk to you when I get home, okay?"
"Sure. Y'all be careful." She hugged herself with both arms, and he felt like a heel again because he should have been able to do that. She probably needed a good hug as she was sending both her kids off for summer activities.
"Hey, and don't forget you owe me a class reunion. It's next weekend."
He looked at her over his aviators and frowned. "How could I forget? It's our fortieth birthday. Remember?"
"Yes, I remember. Just wanted to make sure you did, too."
He gave her the thumbs up and headed out the door.
He walked to the truck with a head full of new knowledge, but there was little time to process any of it. He had Ryan's ass to kick all the way to Norman, figuratively, of course, but kicking it, nonetheless. The boy clearly needed some remedial education in how one spoke to one's mother. Greg wasn't putting up with that crap for another minute.
But Ryan was no fool. He'd wedged himself in the corner of the truck cab and was either feigning sleep or truly a teenager through and through. They could sleep any time, any place, Greg figured.
So he had some quiet windshield time to think about what had happened with Cara. Not just the discussion either. He thought about that kiss. The revelation that she thought she had kissed him was a complete game changer. And it took him by unholy surprise.
He had to think about this for a while, try to wrap his mind around exactly what happened last Saturday. She'd been flirty all night. No doubt about it. Whispering in his ear when she first came in ... telling him how good he looked in his tux. And looking pretty much like a single woman out there on the dance floor with some hip hop moves that showed her assets at their best. And twirling that leg around for him to see her pedicure while he'd carried her. Yeah, flirty stuff. But he'd taken it pretty much all under the brother-in-law clause. She knew damn good and well he was safe territory. She always had flirted with him. Since ... well, hell, since high school, he figured. They'd been in the same class, while Jason was already attending U.T. classes, and she'd treated Greg the same way then. Flirting and teasing with him because she knew he wouldn't do a damn thing with it. He was as safe as home plate in a home run.
Until now.
What was he to do with the knowledge that she thought she'd kissed him? Did it mean that she'd wanted to kiss him? That she'd been attracted to him? Really attracted? And if so, what the hell were they going to do about a mutual attraction? Because he was done denying that he was attracted to Cara. There was no denying it. He didn't understand how you could be a part of someone's life in one capacity for twenty years and suddenly find yourself looking at them differently one day. But there it was. Right in his face.
He wanted her.
Chapter Three
Greg called her on Sunday afternoon when he got home from Fort Worth, and they had a perfectly normal conversation. It felt totally normal. Well, except for the part when she'd seen his name on her phone and got a belly full of butterflies. That was definitely not normal. Otherwise, it seemed normal. Ryan had made it to camp fine. He might have been missing a little of his butt. Greg assured her they had had some serious discussion about authority and respect, and that he expected a change in Ryan from now on.
That was a relief. She was tired of being a single parent. Not that Greg was Ryan's parent, of course, but it did feel good that someone had her back on this issue.
Maddie left for New York on Wednesday after so much drama about what to take and what to leave home. Cara had been ready to pull her hair out by the time she put her on the plane. Maybe fighting with her children was God's way of allowing her to let them go for a few weeks. They all needed a break from one another, she'd about decided. She'd held them so fearfully close after Jason's death until they probably felt a little smothered. And she needed the time, too.
She was in that sweet spot of summer. No private dance lessons to teach this month, and cheer day camp was still a couple of weeks away. Nothing to do that she didn't want to. Yeah, she could get used to this.
Her Aunt Francesca called on Wednesday and they had a great visit, talking for well over an hour. Her mother's much younger sister was dear to Cara, only ten years older than she, but lived in California, and Cara saw far too little of her these days. Francesca had been a teen in Cara's childhood, a glamorous, gorgeous, ultra-cool female to admire and emulate when her own mother had been distant and elusive. Summers spent with her grandparents and Francesca in California were among Cara's most cherished memories.
"Have you spoken with your mother recently?" Francesca asked in that subtle tone she employed so well. It seemed innocent enough, but Cara knew it hid what was going on in Francesca's mind. And there was always plenty going on in Fran's mind.
Cara rolled her eyes, happy Francesca wasn't technologically savvy enough to want to actually see her while they talked on the phone. "No, Fran. I haven't." It was a well-worn path for the two of them. Every time they spoke, Fran asked Cara about her mother, grieving the estrangement between Cara and Carlotta. And while Cara might not call her relationship with her mother "estranged", it was certainly not comfortable.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Cara could only imagine that Fran was rolling her own eyes or making some other despairing gesture, always so dramatic. She sighed finally. "Well, all right. I won't revisit that haggard refrain. But do think about calling her now and again, darling. I know she would love to speak with you."
"The phone works both ways, dear Fran. If Carlotta wanted to speak to me, she'd call," Cara said plainly.
"Well enough. Don't let's quibble. I'm calling today to tell you that Ren is coming to Texas soon," Francesca said. Ren was Francesca's younger son, probably in his mid to late twenties, if Cara remembered correctly. He'd actually been the ring bearer in Cara's wedding, she recalled, thinking how adorable he'd been back then. Something of a hellion in the past few years, Ren had been saved from the brink of self-destruction, Cara knew, by his angelic charm and good looks and his father Taddy's extraordinarily deep pockets. Taddy Maggio was a very wealthy man, by anyone's standards.
"Really?" Cara asked. "I'm surprised he'd leave that Hollywood party scene for love or money. What's he coming for?"
Fran sighed deeply. "Perdition primarily. Taddy has lost all patience with Ren for his spending and wild ways. He's sending him to work off his penance in some terrible, obscure place in Texas ... some distribution center Taddy owns not too far from you, I don't believe."
"Where is it?" Cara asked.
"Somewhere around Blanco, I believe, wherever that is. Oh, I don't know exactly, but it's just bound to be a hell hole. Taddy swears this is the last straw for my boy. He's absolutely unbending about it this time," Fran said, obviously upset with the thought of her son being sent so far away.
"Well, he's more than welcome to come stay for a while. I'll do whatever I can to help, of course," Cara assured her.
"Thank you, darling. You have no idea how worried I am about Ren. He's so wonderful, Cara, in so many ways, but he's simply got to grow up now, or his father is going to be done with him. He swears it. And I believe it this time. My heart is just broken, Cara," Fran said, her distress evident.
"Well, have him call me when he's coming. I'm happy to help in any way. I'd love to see Ren."
"And just wait until you do, Cara. He's simply the most beautiful of my children, though I will call you a liar if you ever tell that I've confessed such," Fran told her in her usual melodramatic fashion.
Cara laughed, enjoying Fran, even with all the drama. It was always a joy to visit with Francesca. Later that afternoon, Cara thought for about half a second of calling her mother, then thought better of it. It would only dredge up old hurts and issues. She just wasn't in the mood for that this week. Besides, she was on vacation. She didn't have to do anything she didn't want.
She curled up on the couch and read a good book Thursday afternoon after having given her hair a good conditioning with avocado and shea butter. She'd showered it all out and blown her hair dry, but opted for a no makeup day, and was barely dozing on the sofa when she heard the sounds of a motorcycle out front. Did Greg still have that big Harley he used to ride sometimes? It was fuzzy, her memory about it in her half-wakeful state.
"Cara?" he called from the back door, waking her from her half-dozing state with a start. She sat bolt upright on the sofa and turned to find him standing in the back doorway. "Oh, sorry," he said. "I figured you'd be in the pool this afternoon. I went around through the gate looking for you. Are you napping?"
She slumped back over into the pillows. "I was," she said, her voice muffled by the upholstery.
He walked over and tickled the bottom of one bare foot making her whole leg jump. "Well, get up. It's a perfect day for barbeque and a sunset ride in the Hill Country."
She rolled over, her face half hidden in pillows, but looked him over with one eye, thankful she hadn't put two eyes to the task. He freakin' oozed sex appeal. In spades. Oh, Lord. That was all she could think of at the moment. He wore faded blue jeans with holes in both knees, an ancient denim shirt with the sleeves ripped out of it, and a red bandana tied around his head to keep his hair out of his eyes. Aviator sun glasses and sturdy black boots completed the devastating ensemble. And here she lay in tired yoga pants, a tank top, not one smear of makeup on her face, and no bra. Just great.
