by Lexi Eddings
His hand strayed to his pocket, where a small jewelry case rested.
Savory aromas from the meal they were going to share filled the sunroom. Seth had chosen to have Lester set up the table there instead of using the big dining room. The sunroom was more intimate, a smaller, yet more expansive space due to all the south-facing glass. It was still warm from the afternoon sun—an important consideration because Angie always seemed to be cold—but being a sunroom, you felt as if you were outside, which was important to Seth. He did most of his work outside. It felt right to him.
The shadow of the bluffs lengthened, throwing the landscape into shades of deep mauve and warm gray. Later, after they’d eaten, Seth would blow out the candles and they’d watch the stars wheel overhead through the big skylights.
Then, if the evening was going as well as he hoped, he’d take out the ring.
He checked his watch. Surely Angie was home by now. He pulled out his cell phone and called.
It went immediately to voice mail again.
What if, instead of ignoring him, she’d been in an accident? Maybe she was lying by the side of the road or in a hospital bed unable to speak because she was in a coma, or—
Stow it, Parker. You’re being melodramatic. That’s what you get when you spend too much time with an Austen novel.
Angie was probably in the shower.
Cheered by his imaginings of Angela all wet and soapy, he called out to Lester. “I’m gonna go pick her up. Keep everything warm.”
Chapter 21
Screw one, screw all. It’s the American way.
At least, it is if you’re a lawyer.
—Seth Parker’s opinion of
Peter Manning’s profession
A sleek little roadster was parked in the small lot behind Angie’s building. Seth didn’t recognize it. There was no one in town who drove such an expensive car. Of course, his truck was pretty high dollar, what with all the bells and whistles and the heavy-duty towing package he’d had added on, but it was also a work horse of a vehicle. Not only would it haul whatever he needed, it served as his mobile office.
Seth couldn’t imagine the roadster being good for any business purpose. At least no business in Coldwater Cove.
And who’d be stupid enough to drive it with the top down at the end of November?
He also didn’t see Angie’s car, but he figured she might have parked on the Square and gone up to her place using the long dark stairwell from the street. She didn’t do it often, so he hadn’t even been looking for her white Kia when he’d rounded the courthouse.
“You know that thing looks like a Storm Trooper’s helmet going down the road,” he’d told her when she first showed it to him. She’d stuck her tongue out at him. He figured she wasn’t a Star Wars fan and didn’t get the reference.
He was wrong.
“Maybe it does look like a space helmet,” she’d finally admitted. “But it’s more like Doctor Who’s TARDIS. My Kia’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.”
Angela was one of those rare females who understood both Star Wars and Doctor Who.
No wonder he loved her.
I love Angie Holloway.
He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea. Not that he wasn’t absolutely convinced it was true. Just that he’d never thought it would happen to him so fast.
Or so completely.
He took the wrought-iron steps at the back of Angie’s building two at a time. When he reached the top deck, his chest tightened. There were no lights on in her place. He rapped on the door anyway.
“She’s not there,” came a voice from the darkness.
In the dimness, Seth hadn’t noticed the guy sitting on Angie’s wicker settee. The man stood. Seth couldn’t make out his features, but he recognized the voice.
“Manning.”
“Good. You remember my name,” the guy said. “I seem to have misplaced yours.”
“It’s Parker. Seth Parker.”
“Good to see you, Parker. Hail the mighty spider killer and all that.” Manning held out his hand to shake. Seth didn’t take it.
For half a second, he thought about trying to be civil to Manning because he knew Angie would want him to. But this jerk had hurt her badly. He didn’t deserve civil.
“Can’t say it’s good to see you again,” Seth said. “That your roadster down there?
Peter smiled. The sly expression reminded Seth of a coyote after a kill. His teeth must have been bleached because they glowed in the dark a little. “I have one like it back in DC. I’m used to the power and speed, so I rented the same model in Tulsa for the drive down here.”
“Hmph.” Seth peered over the balcony railing at the car. “Kinda girly, isn’t it?”
“It’d beat your truck in a race.”
“Yeah, but my truck could squish your car like a grape. What are you doing here?”
“Come on, man. That should be obvious, even to a knuckle dragger like you,” Manning said, all pretense of politeness gone. “I’m here to see Ange.”
“Her name is Angela.”
“Not to me.”
Seth folded his arms over his chest. “She’s nothing to you.”
“Maybe not at present, but she used to be.” Manning’s grin was clearly designed to annoy. Seth itched to knock it off his face. “You can’t deny I was there first.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Or what?”
Seth bared his own teeth in an expression no one would mistake for a smile. “Or I’ll break your jaw and it’ll be wired shut for a month.”
“Threatening a lawyer is probably not your smartest move.”
Seth noticed Manning took a step back anyway. “It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. Stay away from Angela.”
Manning cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, but he was careful to remain out of arm’s reach. “She’s a big girl, Parker. She can see anyone she pleases.”
“She won’t want to see you.”
“She will. We parted on friendly terms last time,” Manning said, and then added in a voice laced with innuendo, “very friendly.”
Seth shook his head. “Not so much, I’m thinkin’. You took her to dinner, sure. But then you slinked out of town without trying to see her again.”
“Always leave ’em wanting more. That’s my motto. But I’m back now.”
“And I’m wondering why.” Seth took another step toward him, but this time Manning didn’t back away.
“That is none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business.” Seth glared at him and Manning glared back.
Just when Seth decided he wouldn’t be able to keep from knocking the guy into next week, Manning’s instinct for self-preservation must have kicked in. Peter dropped his gaze.
“You may want to hang out here waiting for Ange to show up, but I have better things to do,” Manning said. “But don’t worry, Parker, I’ll see her soon.”
Manning headed down the iron staircase, hopped into his roadster without opening the car door, and roared off into the night.
That’s why he leaves the top down. So he can vault into the dang thing like some Olympic gymnast.
That move might impress the ladies in DC, but around Coldwater Cove, women were more likely to wonder if the car door was stuck.
Seth was glad to see the back side of the guy, but he was still worried about Angela’s whereabouts. It wasn’t like her to simply disappear. He was about to put in a call to the hospital to see if Angie had been admitted when a light came on in her kitchen.
Relief flooded Seth’s chest. She must have come up the front way. He pounded the door harder than he meant to.
The sound of lowered voices and the scrabbling of soles on the hardwood came from inside. Seth heard an interior door slamming shut. Then the back door opened just an inch or two and Angie peered at him through the crack.
“Oh! Seth, I’m sorry. I forgot you were coming to get me.”
She
forgot? The ring in his pocket suddenly weighed a ton.
“I can’t make it tonight,” she said. “Something unexpected has come up.”
Who’s in there with her? “What’s going on?”
“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you said you were sorry already, but I’m not buying it.”
He’d planned the perfect evening. He picked the right wine to go with her favorite dish, lobster tails. Seafood did nothing for Seth. He was more turf than surf, but he knew it would please her out of all knowing. There’d be soft jazz on the house-wide stereo system and once the stars began their dance across the heavens, the sunroom would be as romantic as Angie could wish.
Now everything was unraveling.
“Manning’s back in town,” Seth said, his tone gruffer than he’d intended, but he couldn’t seem to rein it in. “Are you blowing me off to be with him?”
“What? No.” Her brows arched in surprise. “Peter’s in town?”
“Caught him sniffing around on your deck a minute ago,” Seth said, wishing he’d laid the guy out when he had the chance. “As if you didn’t know.”
“I did not.” She narrowed her dark eyes. “Of what are you accusing me?”
Uh-oh. Perfectly proper syntax. She’d taught him what syntax meant the other day. He already knew when her inner grammar gremlin popped out and she started talking like an Austen heroine, she was seriously ticked off.
“Nothing. I’m not accusing you of anything. But what am I supposed to think when I find the guy camped out on your deck?”
“I had no idea Peter was in town, let alone here at my place,” she said emphatically, her shoulders tense.
“You sorry you missed him?”
“No.” Then her shoulders relaxed and she sighed. “Look, Seth, I said I’m sorry I have to cancel on you and I mean it. I was really looking forward to tonight, but sometimes . . . things happen that you can’t control.”
Now that she was softening toward him, he felt more hopeful. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”
“No.”
“There’s someone else in your apartment.” It wasn’t a question.
She didn’t bother denying it. “Well, it’s not Peter, that’s for sure. Look, you have to trust me.”
He hated to admit it, but she was right. If they didn’t have trust in each other, they didn’t have anything. “Okay. At least, tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t, Seth. It’s . . . it’s not my secret to tell.”
“So it is a secret.”
“For now. If I can, I’ll explain later. I’m really truly sorry about tonight.” She put a hand on his chest and he covered it with one of his own. “Whatever you had planned for us, I’m sure it would have been wonderful, but for now, just let it go, will you?”
“I might,” he said as he leaned on the doorjamb, “if you give me a kiss.”
Her eyes flashed to the left as if she were checking to see whoever was in the apartment with her. Then she stood on tiptoe and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
“You call that a kiss?” he said.
“It’s all the kiss you’re getting tonight.” Then she pushed the door closed. Gently, but firmly.
* * *
“So, you and Mr. Parker, huh?” Emma rounded the corner from the living room and joined her in the kitchen.
“I thought I told you to stay in the bedroom.”
“And miss all the action at your back door? No way, Ms. H.”
“It’s not nice to eavesdrop,” Angie told her primly. She’d hoped the girl would stay put while she dealt with Seth. Not only did she want to keep her love life from the curious eyes of her student, but she didn’t want Seth to know she was harboring something of a fugitive.
Emma’s mother had kicked her out of the house.
“You’re probably right,” the teenager admitted. “Maybe it wasn’t nice for me to listen, seeing as how you’re taking me in and all, but it sure was fun. So, how long you two been together?”
“Not long.”
“But long enough, I bet. Good on you, Ms. H.!” Emma twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “Mr. Parker might be kinda old, but he’s still pretty hot.”
“Kind of old?”
“Well, yeah. He’s gotta be, what? At least thirty, right?”
Angie shrugged. She hadn’t ever asked his age, but she supposed he was in his early thirties. On the right side of thirty-five, at least. The Big Three-Oh was looming large on her horizon, too.
“You gonna marry him?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t asked.” Most of her friends from college were already married with children. Even Heather, her best friend in Coldwater Cove, was happily settled with her dot-com king of a husband, Michael Evans.
After Peter, Angie had figured she’d never marry. It was too risky to put all your emotional eggs in one guy’s basket. But she was starting to rethink that.
“Why don’t you ask him to marry you?” Emma suggested with grin. “Women can do that now.”
Okay. Time to steer the subject away from me and Seth. “Is that what you’re considering, Emma? Asking Tad to marry you?
Emma rolled her eyes. “I guess I’m thinking about it. I mean, he’ll graduate before the baby’s born. He could get a job instead of going to college. Getting married would solve a lot of problems.”
And cause a bunch of new ones. Angie kept quiet and willed her expression into one of careful neutrality. She could help Emma explore her options, but she couldn’t advocate for a particular outcome. She was already breaking several rules by bringing Emma into her home.
“But if I do ask Tad to marry me,” Emma went on, working things out as she spoke, “and if he says yes, I’ll never know if it’s because he loves me or because he feels trapped by the baby.”
Oh, trust me, honey, he doesn’t love you, Angie thought but would never say.
Emma plopped down onto the kitchen barstool. “I don’t know what I’ll do. Do I have to tell him?”
“Legally, probably not.” Finally, a question she could answer. “But don’t you think he should know? If he won’t help you, perhaps his family will.”
The Van Hooks were pretty well off. If Tad wouldn’t take responsibility, his parents might step up for the sake of their unborn grandchild. Emma’s family had punted her into the street.
Emma’s forehead was creased by more worry lines than a kid her age should have.
“You want some ice cream?” Angie asked, hoping to cheer Emma up.
Her face brightened. “You got chocolate?”
“No, just vanilla, but there’s some Hershey’s syrup in the pantry.”
“Now you’re talking.”
Angie dipped up two bowlfuls and split a banana between them. It wasn’t exactly health food, but Emma was looking a little thin for a mom-to-be. After the ice cream, Angie would try to get a real meal down her. If she’d been thinking, she ought to have reversed those things, but just the mention of ice cream had clearly lifted Emma’s spirits. That was more important than the food pyramid just now.
“Thanks, Ms. H.,” she said as she dived into her bowl of icy sweetness. “And thanks for letting me stay here.”
“No problem. The couch pulls out into a bed. And it’s just temporary until everything gets sorted out.”
Angie probably should have called the authorities. Emma was technically a minor. But she didn’t want to get Emma’s mother in trouble for kicking her daughter out of the house. Mrs. Wilson had problems of her own, but maybe she’d come around after she had time to think about her daughter’s situation. Angie hoped Emma would be able to return home within a couple of days.
And besides, if Angela had called Child Protective Services, Emma would be placed in emergency foster care. It might be a good situation or foster care might make matters worse. Given her own experience with the system, Angie didn’t want to chance it.
“Have you told anyone else about the baby?” Ange
la asked. “Friends, maybe?”
Emma shook her head. “Just you and my mom.”
“Maybe you should keep it that way for a while, until you decide what to do,” Angela said. “Except for your doctor.”
“Why do I need to see a doctor?”
“Well, sometimes a home pregnancy test gives a false positive,” Angie said, mentally kicking herself for not suggesting this first. If a doctor’s test showed Emma wasn’t pregnant, she would have upset herself and her mother over nothing.
Emma put down her spoon. “You think I might not be preggers?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Okay. How do I get set up with a doctor? If I’m sick, Mom just takes me to urgent care to see whatever nurse practitioner is there.”
She should have known Emma wouldn’t have a regular family doctor. “I’ll call my friend Heather. She works at Coldwater General. She’ll know where you should go. If I ask her to keep it quiet, do I have your permission to share your situation with her?”
Emma sighed. “Why not? If I’m really pregnant, it’s not like I’ll be able to hide it for long.”
Chapter 22
The Coldwater Cove Beautification Society announces its Annual Christmas Lights Contest. Displays will be judged on originality and holiday theme. How high the homeowner’s utility bill goes as a result of the display is not a deciding factor.
—The Coldwater Gazette. The last bit was added specifically for George Evans, who nailed his electric bill, surrounded by twinkle lights, to one of his oak trees last year
“Glad you called to meet me for breakfast. I haven’t heard from you since I dropped the pageant in your lap. I was afraid you were still mad at me.” Heather Walker Evans slid into the booth across from Angie. It was a quarter to six, so the Green Apple Grill was mostly empty except for people like Heather who worked an early shift, and Angie who needed to be at the high school before her students. The usual breakfast rush didn’t start until around seven and the retiree coffee crowd didn’t turn up until after eight. “Does this mean you forgive me for forcing you into doing the pageant?”
