White Picket Fences

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “You spent the night with him,” Will said. Didn’t the girl know how badly she could get hurt? Hadn’t he taught her anything?

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. And might I remind you, Will, that you’re the one who threw us together in the first place? I didn’t want that pet-therapy assignment.”

  Will, who was comfortable speaking to an entire student body of six thousand, who’d faced down his best friend the previous year for having an illicit affair with a student, who headed up one of the leading universities in the country, couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “He wasn’t the first, big brother,” Randi said, her voice softening with humor.

  He didn’t want to hear that, either.

  “He’s the first one here in town,” he finally muttered.

  “Yeah. So?”

  “People talk, Randi, you know that.”

  “And you know I’ve never given a damn what they say.”

  It was true; she never had. He’d always admired that about her. Probably came from being in the public eye at such a young age. The press wasn’t always kind to young female athletes as successful as Randi had been.

  “So you like him a lot, huh?” he asked, then rolled his eyes at how high school he’d sounded. What was it with the women in his life? They could always tie him in knots, make him forget that he was highly intelligent and successful.

  “I probably wouldn’t have slept with him if I didn’t like him,” Randi said drolly.

  “So why, if you’re a couple, won’t you bring him to dinner?” he asked, getting back to his original mission. At least as far as the family was concerned.

  “He’ll have to meet us all eventually.”

  “Who says we’re a couple?”

  “You spent the night with him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well…”

  “We’re just friends, Will,” Randi said as though explaining something disappointing to a child.

  “You spent the night with him.” He’d already said that.

  “So we’re intimate friends, but that’s it.”

  “Randi, you slept with the man!”

  “Don’t worry, it won’t become a habit.”

  Will sat straight up, his spine rigid. “If he hurt you—”

  Laughing, Randi said, “Down, big brother. Zack wouldn’t hurt me even if he hated me, which he doesn’t, I’m happy to report.”

  “You guys seem to be spending a lot of time together,” Will said, remembering what else his mother had told him. “You’ve been Rollerblading more than once.”

  “Plus, we went to Phoenix for dinner a couple of times, and to see a movie,” Randi rattled off. “Oh, and he was at my house one night, too. Someone might have seen him leave at a slightly inappropriate hour.”

  Will’s chin jutted out. He really wanted to deck the bastard.

  “So why—”

  “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I want things this way?” Randi asked.

  Will frowned. He hadn’t. No.

  When had his baby sister grown up so much?

  “Why?” he had to ask. Just trying, at that point, to understand her. To know what would make her happy.

  Because, in the end, her happiness was all he cared about.

  “Just between you and me?” she asked, her voice soft, pleading.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m content with my life, you know?” The loneliness in those few words stabbed him.

  Couldn’t she hear it?

  “I’ve learned to accept what I’ve got and be happy,” she continued. “I’m not willing to risk losing that.”

  A huge knot formed in his stomach. This was a whole lot worse than a sexual escapade. Or even a broken heart.

  His sister, who had more potential than anyone he’d ever met, was condemning herself to a life of loneliness. To a life of unhappiness. To no life at all.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  WILL COULDN’T LET that happen.

  “Without risk, you go nowhere,” he said bluntly.

  He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. Randi defined the word risk. It was why, at the age of thirty, she’d already accomplished more in her career than most people did in a lifetime of working.

  “I’m happy where I am,” she said. But she didn’t sound like any kind of happy he’d ever known. “I have no desire to go anywhere else.”

  “You want to live alone forever?” he asked. He couldn’t imagine it. Didn’t want to imagine it. Not for her.

  Randi didn’t answer him. Which was far more telling than anything she might have said.

  “What about children?” he persisted. “You love being with Bethany so much, it’s obvious you’d thrive with a baby of your own.”

  “You don’t always get what you want out of life,” Randi said, her voice flat. “The way to achieve joy in this life or at least peace, which I personally find more valuable, is to find a way to be happy with what you have.”

  When had her head become filled with such bullshit? And why hadn’t he noticed?

  “What about making things happen? If you don’t reach out, you won’t get anything at all.”

  “I dedicated the first twenty-one years of my life to reaching for a dream, Will. And in the space of a thirty-second error made by someone else, it was all gone. Dreams are for kids who still have the energy to fight for them.”

  “I think Bethany is proof that you’re wrong about that.”

  Randi was silent, clearly unwilling to acknowledge what he’d said. Will and Becca had spent twenty years trying to have a baby. Twenty years anguishing over repeated disappointments. But he’d never stopped hoping—even when they’d finally discovered they were expecting and were then told the risks were too high, Becca was too old, they’d have to terminate the pregnancy. He’d never stopped believing.

  And here they were, forty-three years old and the parents of a healthy, perfect, beautiful baby girl.

  “Please bring him to dinner,” Will finally said, afraid his sister might be getting ready to hang up.

  She still didn’t say anything.

  “You know that if you don’t bring him, he’s suddenly going to be getting an unusual number of drop-in visits at that clinic of his.”

  Will would be first in line.

  “What time is dinner?” she asked grudgingly.

  “One o’clock, out at Mom and Dad’s.” After their father had retired from the cactus-jelly plant outside Shelter Valley, where he’d put his business-management degree to use for more than thirty years, their parents had moved into the desert, about fifteen miles from town. They’d built a house big enough for all the grandkids on a plot of land they’d bought when Will was still in high school.

  “Okay, but I’m warning you, Will, if anyone tries to marry us off, I’m out of there.”

  “I’ll warn them.”

  “You do that.”

  As hungry as he was for the lunch awaiting him in the kitchen, Will couldn’t leave things like that.

  But he refused to retract the statements he’d made. He couldn’t ignore his worry about her relationship with Zack Foster—or her sense of resignation, her false contentedness.

  “How’s everything at school?” he asked for want of anything else to say.

  “I need money.”

  “For what?”

  “A center for my basketball team.”

  He knew she was putting a load of pressure on herself about that team.

  “You’ve gone to your alumni association?”

  “Of course. And to the community funds, too. There’s nothing.”

  “How much over budget would the scholarship put you?”

  “I’m already over. I just requested another pay raise for my coaches.”

  “They got a raise last year.”

  “And they still aren’t making what the men’s coaches make. I have to pay them if I expect highly motivated coaches—and winning teams.”

&
nbsp; “Have you thought about finding a private source to fund a one-time scholarship?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “Actually, I was wondering about asking Barbara Sharp. What do you think?”

  “It’s a great idea,” he said, relieved to be meeting her on common ground again. “She can easily afford it. She makes healthy contributions every year, anyway. She’s openly supportive of women athletes and women’s athletics. Besides, it’ll look good in the papers.”

  “You don’t think I’m trading on a friendship?” Randi asked.

  “I think she’d be hurt if you didn’t ask.”

  They talked for a few more minutes. Randi got all the information he had about the red tape of establishing a privately funded scholarship. By the time they hung up, she was ribbing him again, almost like her old self.

  But Will was worried about her. Really worried.

  “MY FAMILY KNOWS we slept together.”

  Zack stood back from his front door Saturday afternoon as Randi pushed by him, sidestepped a barking tail-wagging Sammie and walked into his living room.

  Telling Sammie to be quiet and stay, he followed Randi.

  “You don’t have to worry that I’m going to be haunting this place because I’ve been here once,” she said, standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips.

  And what gorgeous hips they were, too. She was wearing her standard attire—leggings, a T-shirt that came only to her waist. And white running shoes.

  “You’re welcome to come here any time you want,” he said.

  That seemed to slow her down for a second. She opened her mouth and closed it again without speaking.

  “Now, would you mind repeating that opening line?”

  He’d just finished showering after a good long game of hoops with his friend Ben Sanders. Had barely pulled on a pair of jeans when the doorbell rang.

  “My family knows we slept together.”

  That was what he’d thought she said. Zack wished he’d had time to put on a shirt. He felt a bit exposed.

  “Your family, as in all four of your brothers?”

  “And my mom and dad and probably all my sisters-in-law and maybe even the nieces and nephews who are old enough to understand.” Hands still on her hips, she nodded her head for extra emphasis.

  Cassie had warned him about this. The small-town gossip that could ferret things out better than the best private detective. And spread them faster than any newspaper. “I’m sorry.”

  “Because your name’s linked to mine? I know. I don’t blame you. You’re going to be hearing about this for a while, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about. I’m sorry it’s put you in a bad position with your family.”

  She blinked, focused on him for the first time since she’d come barreling through the door.

  “You don’t have to be sorry for me,” she said, calm for the moment. Her brown eyes were still sparkling, but her body wasn’t vibrating quite as much.

  “I’m not worried about my family. Or the rest of the people in town, for that matter. Folks have been talking about me since I was ten, and what I got in Shelter Valley was nothing compared to what some of the national papers said about me when I started winning national tournaments.”

  He’d never been interested in golf, but he suddenly regretted that. He’d have liked to see some of those articles.

  “They’re still going to give you a hard time,” he muttered.

  “They worry about me,” she said, dropping her hands from her hips. “But I’ve been ignoring their nagging since I was a kid. Trust me, that part doesn’t bother me a bit. Which is why I didn’t think a little harder before I left my Jeep parked in front of your house last night.”

  “So what part does bother you?”

  “The problem it’s going to be for you. I know that the last thing you want is entanglements.” She grinned wryly. “My family’s going to drive you away before I have a chance to do it myself.”

  “You’re telling me I should be prepared for shotguns at my door?” He wasn’t afraid of her family. But he’d prefer not to take on four angry brothers at once.

  “No, the best thing for you to do is come to dinner with me tomorrow afternoon.”

  He frowned. “How is us having dinner together going to solve anything?” Not that dinner with her didn’t sound like a damn good idea.

  “Dinner tomorrow is at my mother’s house. Any and all of the family that can make it will be there. It’s kind of an open-invitation weekly thing, just changes houses now and then.”

  Dinner with Randi’s family. Sounded serious. So why wasn’t he running in the opposite direction?

  “Our goal is to face all the shotguns at one time rather than having them ambush me here?”

  He was only half joking.

  “Sort of,” Randi said, not even half joking. “If you don’t come, they’ll be showing up at the clinic to check you out.”

  “You’re kidding.” Cassie hadn’t been exaggerating about this town or Randi’s place in it.

  “I wish I was.”

  “Guess I’m going to dinner.” He still wasn’t as upset about the idea as he should be.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “I’m not.” He had to wipe that regretful look off her face. “It’s a small price to pay for the night we had.”

  They connected for a second there, remembering the things they’d done to each other during the night, but then she grew serious again.

  “They’re going to have us married within the year.”

  He frowned, feigning horror. “Can they do that?”

  “I mean it, Zack. They’ve been trying to get me married since I first found out my golf career was over. And I’ve given them no hope whatsoever. If they have something like this to work with, they’re going to be counting grandchildren.”

  She seemed so worried Zack was almost insulted. Except that they had an agreement about what was and what wasn’t happening. Because of that, he understood her unease.

  “Hey,” he said, crossing to her, taking hold of her upper arms to draw her closer. “We know what we’re about,” he told her, looking her directly in the eye. “Right?”

  She nodded.

  “And no one can make us do anything we don’t want to do.”

  “I know that,” she whispered, her eyes still clouded. “I’m not afraid of them or afraid I’ll be forced into something I don’t want. I’m afraid they’re going to scare you away right when I’m having the time of my life.”

  The time of her life, huh? Well, that was okay, then.

  “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not ready to give up my skating buddy yet.”

  Last night aside, that was all they were. They were two people who challenged each other, enjoyed each other, stimulated each other’s minds. They were friends.

  Who’d happened to kiss a time or two.

  Her lips were only inches away from his…

  Zack had taken possession of them before he could even form the thought. Before he could wonder if maybe this wasn’t too much. Too soon.

  Before he could figure out how to remain friends while keeping things short and sweet.

  RANDI HAD NO IDEA how they’d gone from discussing the commitments they weren’t going to make to being naked on his bed. For a relationship that wasn’t, they sure were doing things wrong.

  She couldn’t seem to get enough of Zack, didn’t even think about stopping him.

  It was as if they hadn’t made love in months, maybe even years, as they came together, familiar enough with each other to know what pleased. There was no time for talking or for slow leisurely touches. It was a desperate meeting of hot and hungry bodies seeking instant satiation.

  Sweaty and dazed, Randi lay in his arms afterward. “How many times can we do this before we can’t do it anymore?” she asked drowsily.

  “I don’t think there’s a limit on it,” he said in a lazy voice.

  But there was. Th
ere had to be. She sat up.

  “I’m serious, Zack.”

  His brows drew together as he raised his eyes to meet hers. “You want a number?” he asked. She could tell he didn’t understand.

  She wasn’t sure she understood, either. None of this. How could a woman who guarded her life so carefully, who guarded her aloneness so carefully, be lying in this man’s bed for the second time in twenty-four hours?

  “We’ve said over and over that neither of us is looking for a relationship, right?”

  He was frowning in earnest now. “Right.”

  “You prefer to keep things short and sweet.”

  “Right.”

  “So how many times can we go crazy like this before we have a relationship on our hands?”

  He sat up, tossing her the comforter folded along the bottom of the bed to cover herself with and pulling the sheet around his waist at the same time. “I see what you mean,” he said. He looked at her, looked away, then brought his eyes back to hers.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” And not knowing scared her to death. “You’re absolutely certain you don’t want to try a relationship?”

  “Aren’t you?” he countered.

  “I think I’m certain.” She gave him the truth.

  “But actions speak louder than words, don’t they?”

  “Usually.”

  She nudged his thigh with her toes. “Your actions are speaking, too, you know.”

  “Yeah, but they aren’t saying I want a relationship.”

  She tried not to feel the blow dealt by his words. There was no reason to react as if he’d said something hurtful. She was still in control; that was what this talk was about. Maintaining the control she was on the verge of losing.

  “What are they saying, your actions?”

  He studied her face. “Hell if I know.”

  “Then how do you know what they aren’t saying?”

  It wasn’t that she was pushing him to get involved with her. Rather, she was pushing him for understanding, for answers that she didn’t have herself—not just for him, but for her, too.

  “I know I can’t get involved again.”

  Her heart sank even though it wasn’t supposed to.