Her eyes widened as he piled roast beef on a piece of bread. “I guess you’ll be having a side of sarcasm instead of Ruffles.”
A ghost of a grin appeared on his face. “Gotta eat a balanced meal to keep up my strength.” He dribbled mustard over the meat, added a slice of cheddar cheese, and topped it with another slice of bread.
She and I exchanged a look, both of us relieved he had made a wisecrack. Maybe this was a sign of him coming out of his shell. I mentally crossed my fingers and reached for the bag of Doritos.
Neil helped clean up after we finished eating and headed upstairs with Oscar on his heels. They came back down a few minutes later and disappeared into the den. Noise from the TV filtered in as Neil looked for a show or movie to watch.
“How do you feel about getting out of here for a while?” I asked Collette, clicking the dishwasher shut.
“What do you have in mind?” She rested a hip against the kitchen counter, her delicate eyebrows raised in interest.
I grinned. “Go change into warm, comfortable clothing. We’ll be outside for a while, so grab a jacket, hat, and some gloves. And pack an extra outfit in case we decide to crash elsewhere tonight.”
“Oookay.” She gave me a curious look and headed for the stairs. “Autumn is my favorite season, so you had me at the part about spending time outside. But you already knew that.”
I stepped outside and made a quick phone call while Collette changed. Once she was ready, we said goodbye to Neil and got in my car. I drove to my condo and changed out of my suit. After tossing some items in a duffel bag, we left and hopped back in the car.
Forty-five minutes later, I steered into the parking lot of one of the largest pumpkin patches in the south suburbs of Chicago.
“Remember when you told me you had a taste for pumpkin pie last week?” I nosed into an empty spot and turned off the engine.
She nodded, pulling a sparkly purple beanie over her head. “Yes, but I usually buy the canned stuff. Do they sell the kind you use for baking here?”
“Yup. My family came here every year when I was younger, and my mother bought a couple of pie pumpkins each time.”
We got out and made our way to the entrance, where I paid the admission fee and grabbed a map.
“I’ve never been here before.” Collette turned in a slow circle, smiling from ear-to-ear. “Oh, I need to get a funnel cake and some cider.”
“Need to?” I teased, grabbing her by a gloved hand.
“Yes, and one of those ears of corn and, and, a pork chop on a stick. Oooo, a bag of kettle corn, too.”
I chuckled and sidestepped a guy pulling his kids in a red wagon. “Just don’t eat the chop during the pig races. The competitors might not appreciate you munching on their relatives.”
“The what?” The expression on her face was priceless as we got in line at the funnel cake stand.
“There are pig races every hour. They’re hilarious. You’ll love it.”
She unfolded the map as we shuffled forward, her dark eyes scanning the colorful layout. “Can we go in the corn maze and go on a hayride? Please?”
“We’re going to do everything. Well, everything except the kiddie rides. Let’s grab your precious fried dough and head for the horseback rides.”
“I get to ride a horse, too?” She bounced up and down on the balls of her booted feet. It was so adorable, I couldn’t resist giving her a quick peck on the lips before placing our order with the girl behind the counter.
After an hour-long wait, Collette hooked her feet into a set of stirrups. “Such a pretty girl, aren’t you, Snickers?” she cooed, stroking the mane of her horse.
I spun my White Sox cap around so the brim shielded my eyes from the sun and picked up my reins as Jesse, my ride for the trail snaking around the perimeter of the pumpkin patch, lurched forward to follow Snickers to the gravel path. “You were one of those little girls who wanted a pony for her birthday. Am I right?”
“No, I wanted a kangaroo,” she said over her shoulder.
“Seriously? What would you do with one of those? Hey, you know who this reminds me of?”
Her eyes narrowed at me. “Don’t you dare compare me to Monkey Mama. I was six or seven years old when I asked for a kangaroo.”
I cracked up, startling the poor animal beneath me. “Uh-oh…methinks I hit a nerve. You never answered my question. Why did you want a kangaroo?”
“I’m not going to tell you. You’ll make fun of me.”
“Why? Were you going to try and ride in its pouch while it hopped around?” I laughed even harder at the oh-shit guilty look on her face. “Oh God, what made you think that was a remotely good idea? That thing would have kicked you into the next state.”
She stuck out her tongue and turned around as we crested a hill, lumbering down toward a pond filled with noisy geese.
I smiled smugly, proud of how happy I’d made her after such a rough start to the day. Even though she had never said anything, I figured the funeral had brought to the surface memories of her parents and what she had gone through right after they died. If all it took to make Collette smile was an afternoon of good old-fashioned fall-themed fun, I’d ride a dozen horses and buy five gallons of cider to see her eyes sparkle with such pure, unabashed joy.
We stayed until employees kicked everyone out, watching the pig races from the metal bleachers, eating buttery ears of corn, and riding out to the pumpkin fields on a tractor-drawn cart loaded with hay bales.
14
Ryan
I nestled two small pie pumpkins between huge ones to be carved into jack-o’-lanterns and closed the trunk. “All right, milady, what would you like to do next?”
“Collette? Collette Russo?” a deep voice asked from behind.
Collette’s eyebrows knitted together as she studied the man holding a little girl no more than a couple of years old. “Hello, Josh,” she said in a wary, guarded tone.
I went on high alert because this was a far cry from the warm, friendly way she usually greeted people she knew. This guy looked around the same age as us, and if I were a betting man, I’d have wagered the entire pot on him being an old boyfriend. One who had apparently parted ways with her on bad terms, judging by the way she inched closer to me.
“It’s been a long time,” he said, shifting the toddler to his other hip. “How have you been?”
“Fine,” Collette said briskly. “We were just leaving.”
What had this guy done to make her so snappy and anxious to leave? He didn’t look the least bit threatening holding who I presumed was his daughter, all bundled up in a pink puffy jacket with a black tutu sticking out below the bottom.
“Same here. It’s way past Abby’s bedtime, and she still needs a bath.” He grinned as Abby yanked off her stocking cap resembling a pumpkin and made a sour face, her blue-colored lips puckering into a pout. “You’re a hot mess, kiddo. It looks like you ate a Smurf. I’m Josh, by the way.” He extended his free hand to me.
“Ryan,” I said, giving a firm shake with Collette tucked into my side, her body stiff as a board. “Nice to meet you, but we’ve got people waiting on us for dinner.” I didn’t like lying right to someone’s face, but it was necessary to end this obviously unwanted reunion.
“Oh, then we should let you get going.” He looked at Collette, who appeared to be fascinated by something off in the distance. “It was great to see you. Tell Les I said hi. Neil, too. Have a nice night.”
She nodded once, relaxing as Josh walked away and disappeared behind a row of cars.
“Are you okay?” I opened the passenger door, holding her purse as she buckled up.
“I am now.” She took her bag and set it by her feet. “You asked me what I wanted to do next before we were interrupted. What are my options?”
Even though I knew better than to press her after a deliberate subject change, I caved into the urge to make absolutely certain she was all right after witnessing her transformation into The Ice Queen. “Who was
that guy?”
She sighed, shooting me an exasperated look. “We went to high school together. Josh played football with Les. He’s not an ex or anyone of importance, I promise. Back in the day, Josh did some shitty stuff, and I haven’t forgotten about it. I already had to relive part of my past this morning and don’t feel like doing it again, so please let it go.”
“Okay.” I closed the door and went around to get in on the other side. “Just know that I’m all ears if you ever want to talk about it,” I said while fastening my seat belt.
“I know.” She reached over the console to place her hand over mine. “Are there really people waiting on us somewhere?”
“No. It was the best excuse I could come up with to make him leave.” I peeled off her glove and kissed her knuckles. “We can either go back to your house or head over to the bed and breakfast a few miles away and–”
“I’ve always wanted to go to a B&B!” she exclaimed, doing that adorable bouncing thing again.
God, she was so damn easy to please. I couldn’t get out of the parking lot fast enough to drive to the opposite end of town to see her reaction.
She covered her mouth with a hand, pointing with the other when we reached our destination. “It’s so beautiful. Look at the trim on the gables, Ryan. Look!”
I pussed out, my insides melting from the way she gaped at the sprawling Victorian-style house. Men weren’t supposed to get all gooey and mushy, but I didn’t give a shit because as far as I was concerned, it was okay if it happened over something to do with the woman you loved.
“You’re more beautiful,” I said quietly, tucking some wayward strands of hair behind her ear. “Wait until you see the inside.”
“You’ve…been here before?” She eyed me peculiarly.
What kind of guy did she take me for? I’d never done anything like this before. Spur-of-the-moment romantic getaways weren’t part of my repertoire. Hell, I’d never really had the urge to make a grand gesture until Collette entered the picture. Not to mention the fact that I’d also never had the means for a stay at this swanky inn.
“Yes, but not the way you’re thinking. One of my mother’s best friends owns it. I spent my summers in middle and high school mowing the grounds. I’ve never stayed as a guest until now, with you.”
“Ohhh.” She heaved a sigh of relief.
It was time to set her straight and remind her about how her happiness was my number one priority. I grabbed our bags from behind my seat and hopped out of the car, rounding the front to open her door. We walked up the front steps hand in hand and entered the foyer, where a giddy Mrs. Hadley embarrassed the shit out of me by pinching my cheeks and calling me “Rhino,” the childhood nickname I would have been perfectly happy to never hear again for the rest of my life.
I cringed upon realizing my mother would have my head on a plate once she found out Mrs. Hadley had met Collette before her. “My parents don’t know I’m here,” I said in a conspiratorial tone. “If you could not mention my, uh, presence to them, I’d appreciate it.”
“Why, Ryan Alexander McMillan.” She pressed a hand to her bosom, feigning shock. “Are you asking me to withhold information from my dearest and oldest friends?”
“Pretty much.” I slid my credit card across the check-in desk, making puppy-dog eyes. “Don’t throw me to the wolves, Mrs. H.”
Both she and Collette laughed.
“I’m meeting his parents on Thanksgiving,” Collette told her. “I found out about this,” she waved a hand around in a sweeping motion, “ten minutes ago, and I’m thrilled to be here because your home is absolutely stunning. Is that mantle over there hand-carved?”
“Oh, she’s good,” Mrs. Hadley murmured, her gaze shifting over to me. She slid my card back to me with a shake of her head. “You’re in the Presidential Suite, which is up the stairs and to the left. Room 202. Breakfast is served from seven to nine o’clock in the solarium. Enjoy your stay and let me know if there’s anything you want or need.”
We thanked her and climbed up the curving grand staircase, veering to the left in search of our room.
“Wow,” Collette breathed, taking in the fireplace and plush furniture after we stepped inside. “It really does look fit for a president.” She shucked her coat and boots and dove onto the four-poster bed.
I kicked off my shoes and belly-flopped over the footboard. Rolling to my side, I brushed her hair aside and planted a kiss in the center of her forehead. “Are you hungry? I can run down to the kitchen and see if there are any leftovers from dinner. Or would you rather go out?”
“And leave this bed? Are you crazy?”
“Guess I’ll take one for the team and see what I can rustle up. You look like an Indian princess lying there on all those pillows. All that’s missing are the guys in loincloths to fan you and feed you grapes.”
“Improvise with a hand towel, that notepad on the desk, and the bag of kettle corn in my handbag.” She laughed when I gave her the stink eye on my way toward the door.
Mrs. H looked up from her book as I thumped down the stairs. “There’s a charcuterie board in the fridge, and a bottle of Merlot already open on the counter. Wine glasses are in the cabinet to the right of the sink.”
“Thank you. I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble to get everything ready on such short notice. Are you sure I can’t at least pay you for the food?”
“I’m sure. It was no trouble at all, Ryan. The room wasn’t booked, and I made another board up for me and Bill to snack on later. Now hurry up and get back to that wonderful girl of yours.”
I kissed her on the cheek and pushed through the swinging door to gather everything in the kitchen.
When I got back to the room, Collette still lounged on her stomach on the bed. She’d swapped out her jeans and sweater for one of my T-shirts. It was so big on her that the hem hit mid-thigh on her bare legs. Low flames flickered around the fake logs in the gas-powered fireplace.
“Whatcha got there?” she asked, eyeing the wooden tray and wine glasses in my hands.
“All kinds of good stuff.” I set the board loaded with cured meats, cheeses, crackers, and fruit down in the center of the mattress. “There are both solid and liquid grapes, too.” I stripped down to my undershirt and boxers, pouring the wine before joining her.
She laughed when I plucked a fat red grape from the cluster on the board and held it to her lips. “This would be better if you took my suggestion about the hand towel.”
I chuckled and popped the morsel into my own mouth. “Maybe later, after I’ve drunk half the bottle and hidden your phone so you can’t take any pictures to use as blackmail.”
“They would be for my personal viewing pleasure, I swear!” She held two fingers up, a slice of white cheddar clasped between them.
“Yeah, until Neil uses your phone and finds them. I’d never live it down. No dice, babe.”
“I texted him while you were gone. He’s in the middle of a Seth Rogen movie marathon.”
“Good. Maybe he’s pulling out of the funk he’s been in ever since…well, you know.” I chewed on a slice of peppery salami and dabbed some chutney onto a chunk of flatbread.
“I think he got closure at the cemetery. He acted more like himself at lunch and if he’s watching comedies, he’s definitely on the upswing.” She took a sip from her glass and snagged an olive from a small glass bowl.
We ate until crumbs, stems, and pits were all that remained on the rustic-looking surface of the board. I eased onto my back and stretched out my legs, tucking an arm behind my head. This was the good life, relaxing in front of a fire with a full belly and my favorite person on the entire planet.
Firelight flickered across Collette’s face as she watched the flames dance. “Thank you for today. I don’t like churches and cemeteries, and it helped a lot to have you next to me.”
“You’re most welcome. I could tell it was hard for you. I’m glad my being there helped.” I propped myself up on an elbow and gently rubbed
her shoulder.
“I kept seeing two black coffins in front of the altar,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
Internal warning bells went off. I sat up all the way and set aside the tray and wine glasses. “That must have been a horrible sight if you can still see them after all these years. I won’t even try to pretend to know how you must have felt at your parents’ funeral. You must have been so sad.”
She swallowed hard, her eyes wet as she turned to face me. “Actually, I was more angry than sad the day they were buried.”
I scooted closer, nodding in understanding. Anger was one of the five stages of grief I’d learned about in Psych courses. It made perfect sense to me. I’d definitely be angry once the shock of losing both parents at the same time wore off.
“I wished I was dead, too, because then I wouldn’t have felt all alone in a place packed to standing-room only. Everyone tiptoed around, treating me like I was made of glass and would shatter at the drop of a dime. But I was already broken, so the whispers and pitiful looks did nothing except piss me off more. Plus, I knew the social worker was going to take me to a foster home afterward, so I was scared and nervous about meeting the people I was supposed to live with for a while.”
My heart broke as the image of a young Collette formed in my mind, standing between two black lacquered caskets with her head defiantly held high as numerous rows of faceless people watched her say goodbye to her mother and father. “Sometimes people want to help but don’t know how, especially when they’re still trying to come to terms with the situation themselves.”
“I know that now,” she said softly, her shoulders rising and falling on a deep breath. “But back then, I had reached a point where if one more person patted me on the head and told me everything was going to be all right, I couldn’t be held accountable for my actions. I just wanted honesty.”
“Come here.” I pulled her onto my lap and wrapped my arms around her waist. “Maybe the truth is that they didn’t know what was going to happen to you and were too afraid to admit it, so they fell back on reassurances to try and make you feel better.”
More than Money (Found in Chicago Book 1) Page 11
