Pick Me

by Tanya Hanson

  Around them against the hills and the short mountains behind, Landry’s wish came true. The sky softened and unrolled a pink carpet over peaks dotted with green oaks.

  “Yeah.” As if nature herself intended, their hands knit together. Landry led her to a new redwood bench softened with a dark gray pad.

  “Hang on.” He hated to end the contact, but the moment called for some California blush. A bottle rested in an ice bucket on the wooden table next to them. The two stem-less glasses he filled all but matched the glow across the hills.

  “I like red better than rosé.” He smiled at her. “But I couldn’t resist.”

  “Same here. Great minds think alike.” Her smile hitched his breath. She held up her glass against the view. “I admit the color is fabulous.”

  Like the pink moment always did, time flew too fast.

  “Well, I guess we better get dinner started,” he muttered into the hair resting on his shoulder. “Amy brought over some of her goat cheddar and handcrafted flatbread crackers.”

  “Yum.”

  He opened the double French door and gasped along with Kelsey. Candles, candles, everywhere, and not a one of them unlit. Amy!

  “Oh, my, I feel like…a fairy tale,” Kelsey whispered. The dozens of candles flickered in her eyes.

  Landry almost grumbled about his interfering sister, but the effect was stunning. Romantic. And nothing he’d have thought of despite her gift of the automatic candles at Christmas. “Welcome to my humble home.”

  Despite his modern appointments, his heritage was on display.

  “Great dining room set.” Kelsey ran her fingers over the old mahogany ball and claw. A vase—Amy’s—overflowed with white trailing roses. Also hers, he reckoned.

  “My great-grandmother’s,” he said. “You can see where my mom carved her name when she was about five. I…don’t have the heart to refinish it. Heat marks and water circles…all part of the family history. And—”

  He pointed into the great room where a fire—his idea—waited to be lit in the river rock fireplace. Even with this winter’s unusually warm days, nights in Ten Oaks got downright cold. “That’s the living room set I grew up with. It’s funky and olive green, but after Mom died, I just had to hold on to it.” She hadn’t asked but he read questions in her eyes. “She passed from breast cancer a few years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” The guilt of anybody with an intact family darkened her eyes.

  “Yeah. We all are. But thank God for good memories. And slipcovers.” He grinned, turned to a 60’s-style maple cabinet TV where a salt water tank had replaced the old-fashioned tube. “Amy’s house is full of Declan’s family. One way to keep Corky’s heritage alive.”

  “Family’s important. I could never have lived far away. Like you did in Denver. I like everything I see, Landry.”

  Landry read the invitation in her eyes and got lost in the dark gray depths. First, a gentle touch on her shoulders, then his other hand rested on her cheek.

  He drew her face to his and tasted wine, and somehow honey, as well as forever.

  Chapter Five

  Kelsey wondered if she’d even be able to taste dinner with Landry’s kiss living on her lips. She pulled away at the proper interval. Absurd, but was it possible to fall in love already?

  Their gazes locked in sweet contentment. The pink moment had faded, but desire bloomed rosy and real in its place.

  “Um. Nice.” Landry’s hands still rested on her shoulders, his face tilted enough to see shadows plane across his cheekbones. To see yearning and need in his eyes.

  “Really nice,” she mumbled back in a voice that wore the same blush she felt on her cheeks.

  “I better get dinner started, or we’ll never eat.”

  She nodded at the invitation in his voice, but it was far too soon. When their gazes collided again, his flush let her know he knew it, too. “I’ve got Maggie’s recipe in my purse.” Her voice shook.

  He grinned, bringing them back to the matters at hand. “Aw, not my first rodeo. I’m gonna use slices though, instead of dicing things.”

  “Good to know. I am terrified of big knives.” True.

  “A bad experience?” He smiled again as he set up a mandolin he’d pulled from a brand new box.

  “Eeeeew.” She faked a shudder. “There’s another torture device. Reminds me too much of a guillotine. No, no bad experiences. Just pre-emptive, I guess. My dad tried his best, but it seems I always preferred cleanup. Which by the way, is how it should be tonight. The cook doesn’t clean.” She laid her hands on her hipbones in a very Maggie-like way.

  “We’ll see about that.” Landry frowned a little. “You are my guest. Here’s a bowl. You rip up greens for a salad. They’re in the fridge.”

  “I can manage that.” She opened the French doors to a very nice but not extreme member of his kitchen appliance family and pulled out arugula, spinach, and heirloom tomatoes. A pre-bagged mesclun with a label carrying the Amy’s logo. “I definitely feel like a vegetarian tonight.”

  Landry deftly slid squash across the blade. “Tell me. What does your dad do that got him to cook?”

  “He was a firefighter specialist. Retired now. Drove the big trucks. You don’t make it long in a firehouse without knowing how to feed your crew, and feeding them well.” She rinsed some spinach.

  “Ah. What little guy doesn’t want to be a fireman?”

  “Or little girl.” She chuckled. “Seems I took more after Mom, though. She’s a teacher. But I’ve always been a true daddy’s girl. He’s my ultimate hero.”

  His expression tightened even though he smiled, and she realized she’d stepped on a landmine. “Oh, Landry. I’m sorry. I got lucky is all.”

  “It’s okay. My old man taught me one thing. How I can be a better man. How about your brother?”

  “He works for a media company in Westwood. Deals with a lot of Hollywood types.” She grimaced. “Not my cuppa tea, but he’s happy and has very flexible hours. Helps with two little ones around.”

  “Sounds like you had it all growing up.” He started on the eggplant.

  “Yeah, I liked how Dad’s shift calendar had him off some weekdays.” She gently bounced an heirloom tomato back and forth between her hands, remembering. “He could drive on field trips. Stuff like that. And nothing against full-time working moms, but I liked having mine home after school and off all summer. Guess it rubbed off.”

  Kelsey finished the salad the same time Landry shoved the baking dish in the oven, another fine but not extremely high-end appliance, and poured more wine. Full-bodied red this time.

  “Cheers!” Their glasses clinked.

  “It’ll take about a half hour,” he said. “It’s still light enough outside. Want to take a little walk around?”

  “Yeah.”

  Leftover sunset slowly rolled down the hills. Landry whistled for Clint. The dog hurtled through some shrubs, apparently done with his day’s explorations.

  “Isn’t it Clint’s dinnertime?” She knelt for a lengthy hugging session with the pup.

  “Probably, but he never gives up on a stroll.” Landry helped her up and kept hold of her hand.

  “All these lit candles?”

  “Spoken like a fireman’s daughter. But watch this.” He reached for a tiny sliver of metal, held it out in different directions, and all the candles flickered off. “Remote control.” He rolled his eyes. “Christmas present from Amy.”

  “Oh, the wonders of technology.” Kelsey grinned back, glad no wrangling on fire safety lay ahead. “I’ve got to tell her well done.”

  “Amy. All Amy. They give off a vanilla scent, too.”

  Shadows had started a slow crawl through the valley, graying the shoulders of the surrounding hills as they strolled across Winsome Hill. She totally got the name. A storybook of nature coming to life. Arms of live oak trees wrapped around the twilight, and reddish branches of Manzanita reached up to them. Rocks and boulders gathered like friendly garden ornaments. Aro
und them, though, the air turned chill as if a switch had turned off.

  Landry hustled her into his jacket and held his arm tight across her shoulders.

  “It’s so beautiful here. And Amy’s close by. She seems like a great sister.”

  “She is. She and Corky make my world a better place.”

  As they neared the house, the kitchen timer chimed.

  “Perfect time. Let’s eat.”

  He relit the candles, and they dished up at the table. Seeing his mom’s little graffiti, Kelsey’s heart warmed.

  “So you came back to Ten Oaks after your clothing career. Built a house. Does that mean you are sticking around?” She took a bite. “Delicious.” She settled against the antique chair, comfortable, at peace.

  “Looks like it.” He hesitated. “I’ve got a contract renewal, but…the same time I think the wanderlust is over. I realize how stupidly overpaid I am. Just for looking good.” His face flamed. “Looking good in a pair of jeans, I mean. I do want peace, a homestead. But I think of the good I can do with my salary. I mean, even helping out charities like your rescue…”

  He breathed out, ground some more black pepper across his salad. “I’ve considered leaving before. But something comes up, you know? Like our mom getting sick. I wanted the best treatment for her. Then setting up Corky’s college fund. Helping Amy improve technology…”

  “Well, maybe it’s time to think about yourself. You deserve a chance to settle down.” Kelsey all but spilled the wine she was pouring. Had those grasping words actually come out of her mouth? Would he take it she hinted for more?

  Well, maybe she was.

  She rushed to another topic. “This is magnificent. I think Maggie’s recipe just might be bound for the cross-cut shredder. I might try this out on my parents next weekend.”

  “Think you can handle a mandolin?” Landry’s grin hitched her breath because she knew he hinted at something else.

  Kelsey wondered if she could speak. “I don’t even have one.”

  Landry hesitated. “How about I bring mine over, help get you started?”

  Her cheeks warmed under his intense gaze. “I’d like that. But only if you stay for dinner. I mean…” She figured the increased heat underneath her skin matched the intensity of brightening color on her face. “Even though it means…meeting my family.”

  His eyelids slowly blinked, opened to an intense darkening of his champagne eyes. “I can’t imagine anybody I’d rather get to know.”

  Her heart thudded with relief. Well, at least she didn’t have to depend on the success or failure of heart-shaped carrots to get to see him again. He won the battle for clean up, though, saying he’d tend to it later. Started the fire, started her fire. Led her to the couch, poured her more wine.

  She cuddled against him when his arm snuggled across her shoulders. Night sounds blessed them, from the new walls settling in to the sleepy dog at their feet. Smooth jazz, which she’d never thought she cared for, sounded just about right.

  Into the hard curve of his body, she realized there was no other place she longed to be. She reached up to touch the side of his face and cup his chin…rest her index finger in the cleft she found there and had ached to touch since their first meeting…

  At first, his lips brushed hers with warmth, then hardened with heat, with promise, and opened with desire. The rush of their breathing beat in time with soft mellow saxophone. Oh, she ached for more but was far too cautious just yet to give it. Slow, sure, this time. Win the race…

  And did he know her so well already so as not to rush? She didn’t want to leave but knew she couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t stay.

  Not just yet.

  Finally, reality and disappointment arrived in sad tandem. Her breathing slowed almost to normal.

  “Landry, thanks for the perfect time.” Her lips lingered over his with good-bye. “I don’t want the evening to end. But I better head home. I’ve got to get up a six in the morning.” Slowly she disentangled herself from his inviting warmth.

  “Aw. Feeding and mucking?” He rose, reached out for her hand and pulled her up against him. “I understand, but I so don’t want you to leave me.” His kiss mixed with the words, landed in her hair.

  “I don’t want to leave you either, but Maggie is playing in the handbell choir. Eight o’clock service at Stillwaters Chapel. I…well, there’s just nothing as beautiful as handbell music. I…” Was the invitation in her voice as loud on the air as it rang in her head? Attending church together was somehow hot.

  Disappointment clouded his eyes. “I’d love to hear it sometime. I’m as devout as the next guy, I guess. But Sunday mornings are traffic jams at Milk and Honey.” His fine large hands reached deep into her shoulders with a somehow gentle caress. “Weekend tourists want to take some country back home. Locals need fresh strawberries for their brunches. Amy needs me. She even drags sleepyhead Corky out of bed early.” His arms tightened. “I don’t want to rush things, but I sure want to see you again.”

  I know. That’s one of the reasons I need to leave.

  Kelsey thought quickly. He’d said the word, after all. “How about brunch at my place, then? When the farmers’ market slows down? I can handle eggs. No big knives.” She wanted to chuckle but heard only trembles.

  “It’s a date.”Another kiss, delicious in its quickness. He moved to the fireplace to douse the flames and leave just dying embers. Slowly, she hoped, because he didn’t want to leave her side.

  Outside, he helped her into his truck and tightened her seatbelt. “I’ll bring mimosas.”

  His lids lowered in the sexy way that had started her heart thumping several times already. The drive to her place didn’t take long, but it was a drive she wanted to take forever. Had she been a fool to call the evening short?

  “Coffee, please?”

  “I better not. I won’t want to leave.” His face lowered for a last kiss. “Kelsey, I…I hate to say good-bye. And…” He looked away in something like confusion. “and I’ve got more to say.”

  Goodness, way too soon for any kind of commitment, but did that mean he felt it too? That it might not be too soon to fall in love?

  She touched her index finger to his lips. “Tomorrow. Tell me tomorrow. Whatever it is, you sound way too serious.” At her door step, she took him into her arms. “Tomorrow,” she said when she let go. “Tonight’s been so perfect. Let’s keep it that way. Sleep well, Landry.”

  “I will. Because I promise to dream of you.”

  The kiss was magic and music all at once. She tightened her arms around his neck, her fingers splaying against his wide warm shoulders. She could stay there forever, she knew it. Hoped he did, too.

  “Good-night then,” she said, with more somberness than she wanted. “See you tomorrow. Time for beauty sleep.” Of course she was fishing, like a junior high kid…

  “Well, you don’t need much of that.” His gaze on her the whole time, he strode back to his truck. She stood, watching, dreaming, feeling things long thought dead, while his tail lights disappeared into the darkness. Oak branches brushed through the shadows, and some sort of night bird murmured a lullaby.

  But hot excitement burbled in her veins. Sleep, dreams? Not for a while. What had she been thinking? Why had she let him go? All she had now was pretending it was Landry when she held her pillows tight. Yet…her heart told her waiting was best. She still signed Caution as her silent middle name.

  But she missed him already.

  When she set her purse on the long table behind the couch, she knocked a family picture into her tumble of red pillows. Last year’s Christmas card picture of the Hunter clan. Hmmmm. An idea bloomed like mistletoe. What if…what if she supported the new man in her life and bought jeans for everybody? Did they have children’s sizes? Designs for women? Online shopping?

  Wouldn’t Landry laugh tomorrow? And in spite of her claim of bedtime, all sleep had left her head, replaced by memories of his arms.

  But for the life of
her she couldn’t remember the brand name. No other choice but to Google the name of model Landry Mills.

  What?

  The Tall Timber Jeans spokesmodel burst onto her laptop screen in living color so real she almost smelled the wine on his breath. She expected Landry Mills to walk out into the room.

  Her heart thumped to a stop.

  That was why he’d been so familiar. Not due to some dumb TV show the world had forgotten. The search went on and on. Her mouse ran up and down the pad chasing sites. YouTube videos, magazine covers for the World’s Sexiest Man. Filmography of his television commercials, bit parts and cameos, talk show interviews. Advertisements in every imaginable language, and about a dozen that weren’t. What on earth? And he hadn’t managed to say a word?

  Disappointment exploded at the secrets he’d kept. An honorable career didn’t seem a thing to hide. Gunnar had kept his life hidden, and Landry knew it. What on earth could Kelsey expect next?

  Was the perfect evening destined to become the latest in her list of bad memories? She wiped away tears. No, not yet. She’d listened to every single word Gunnar had ever explained, after the fact. Landry Mills deserved the same. At least he’d never lied. But he didn’t tell her all.

  Just like Gunnar.

  Of course they had to have it out. She needed to hear him explain. But she needed to warn him, too, that he needed to come clean. And…texting was easy. Childish. Chicken. But she plucked at the tiny keyboard on her phone anyway.

  Because if she heard his voice or saw his face, she’d melt at his feet.

  ****

  Landry had started loading the dishwasher when his phone jingled with a message. His heart hammered. A text this late didn’t portend anything good. But Kelsey’s name showed up on the ID, and his blood pounded harder. Maybe she…missed him? Wanted him there? But no. His heart stopped, almost in defeat. Only three words.

  Tall Timber Jeans?

  Well, he had wanted to tell her. Tonight even. And she’d stopped him. Not that it was an excuse but…

  Regret stomped on him. He cussed out loud. McClintock, warming in front of the fireplace, opened a sleepy eye. Of course. Landry’d take the pup along to her house as a furry defense mechanism.