“You bet. I don’t go every night, but between now and Halloween the trails are pretty safe. Once you’re unpacked, though, your dad will probably take you.”
“He’s got a lot of meetings. I hafta stay at that dorky play school. I don’t see why I can’t come home by myself. I’m not a baby.”
“Your dad would worry, Keith. Anyway, you’ll make friends at school. Maybe you can join one of the soccer or Little League teams. I’m sure there are parents who transport kids whose folks both work. Give it time.”
He kicked a rock as they crossed the street. “You’re nice, Sherry. Can you come in and play with me while Dad’s busy? I have Mr. Potato Head.”
“I can’t tonight, sprout. I have dinner in the oven and notes to look over before tomorrow.”
The boy appeared so crestfallen Sherry wished she was free—though she wouldn’t want to join the parade of women throwing themselves at Lock. Speaking of parade, there was Yvette sashaying through Garrett’s gate. As Sherry and Keith drew even with her roommate, Sherry saw that Yvette juggled a square casserole dish and the covered container in which Sherry had stored the peanut-butter brownies.
“Hey!” Sherry quickened her steps. “Where are you going with our dinner?”
Surprised, Yvette turned and tossed her silky blond hair over one bare shoulder. “Sher. You’re back so soon. I thought you and the kid would skate a lot longer.”
Sherry glanced at her watch. “No, I set the oven timer. You should’ve known I’d be back in time to get the lasagna out.”
“It’s out. I’m afraid I must confess—I’ve stolen it to feed Garrett. The poor man is famished after unpacking boxes all day. If you were a real pal, you’d take you know who out for burgers.” Yvette gave an exaggerated wink. “I guess not,” she murmured, eyes locked on Sherry’s stony face. Then she turned to Keith. “Well, c’mon kidlet. Late as it is, you can eat, then hop off to bed.”
Keith tossed Sherry a long-suffering I-told-you-so look before he put his head down and trudged up the sidewalk after Yvette’s swishing short skirt.
The nitro in Sherry’s stomach had burned high enough to explode as Garrett’s front door slammed on Keith’s heels. If she wasn’t so dog-tired and if she didn’t have case reports to dictate, she’d march right up there and barge in on them. Of all the gall. After she’d slaved over that lasagna.
She’d make sure Yvette got an earful tonight, even if it meant staying up till midnight. Unless...Yvette spent the night at Garrett’s. The very thought made Sherry’s stomach queasy. But that was probably just hunger, she told herself.
In the end, she ate the Caesar salad Yvette had left behind—left because Sherry hadn’t yet mixed the dressing. In the end, she laid a blistering note on Yvette’s pillow and went to bed without dictating her reports. Frankly, if Yvette didn’t come home, Sherry would rather not know.
But by the time she fell asleep she’d managed to convince herself the only reason she cared was because it might color her work association with the dean.
That was the only reason, too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AT THE END of another hectic day on campus, Sherry marched up to Garrett’s front door with Letty Dickson’s folder and punched the bell twice. She shouldn’t have been surprised when Yvette opened the door, but she was—or disappointed.
“Garrett’s busy breaking down moving boxes.” Yvette stepped outside and pulled the door almost closed behind her. “Sher, I need a favor. Will you take the kid skating or rent a movie tonight? So I can show Garrett off at the pub. It’s Friday night,” she wheedled. “I called Emily to see if Megan could babysit, but her school has a ball game tonight.”
“Why should I do you favors after the stunt you pulled last night?”
“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport. The lasagna was a big hit. C’mon, Sher. It’s not as if you have a date or anything. You never do.”
For some reason that statement rubbed Sherry the wrong way. Was her life so predictable? She chewed the inside of her mouth, thinking back to when she’d had her last date. Valentine’s Day a year ago—the new psychologist in town who’d spoken to her class that week. Or was that two years ago? The door, suddenly jerked out of Yvette’s hand, ended Sherry’s trip down memory lane.
Garrett, who stood a head or more taller than Yvette, stared over her shoulder. “Hi! Keith said he’d heard the doorbell.”
Sherry struggled with hello. Garrett wore snug-fitting blue jeans, a navy short-sleeved pullover and sneakers that had seen better days. His sun-streaked hair, boyishly tousled, reminded her of Keith.
“Is that the student’s records I asked for? Come on in and we’ll go over the case. Yvette was just leaving, isn’t that right?”
From Sherry’s perspective, he’d issued her roommate a plain “here’s your hat” type of goodbye. Yvette was either obtuse or chose not to understand.
“I have plenty of time. The pub doesn’t liven up until nine. Sherry was just saying she plans to rent Snow White and the Huntsman and fix popcorn. That’d give Keith something fun to do while we run down to the pub for a couple of hours.” Yvette straightened the points of Garrett’s collar and trailed her palms down his chest.
His gaze moved to Sherry. She read a combination of reserve and frustration. “I, ah... That’s nice of you, Sherilyn, but Nolan called. He’s taking Megan and Mark to her high-school football game and invited Keith and me to tag along.”
Sherry didn’t know how to respond. Yvette took answering out of her hands. “Fine.” She curled against Garrett’s shoulder. “Tonight we’ll do your macho football thing. I’m sure Sherry won’t mind saving the movie for another time. The pub’s more fun on Saturday night, anyway.”
Garrett gently disconnected their limbs. “Sorry, this is dads’ night with the kids. And tomorrow I’m helping Nolan put up paneling in his family room. Keith and I are eating with them.” He reached out and pulled Sherry across the threshold. “Excuse us, Yvette. Our discussion concerning this student is confidential.”
Yvette hovered a moment, as if she considered staying despite his dismissal. Then, with a shrug and a coy smile, she rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss on Garrett’s mouth. By the time he stumbled backward out of her reach, she aimed a not-so-coy smile at Sherry and left.
The reserved Dean Lock looked so alarmed that Sherry almost laughed. However, Keith, who’d been skipping down the stairs and was treated to a bird’s eye view of the kiss, didn’t find it funny. “Yuck, Dad.” He navigated the remaining stairs in two jumps. “Why were you kissin’ her? I thought you said—”
“I didn’t kiss her, son,” Garrett broke in. “She kissed me. There’s a difference.”
Keith’s lashes drifted down over skeptical blue eyes. At some point he realized he and his dad weren’t alone. “Sherry, hi!” The boy loped to where she still hovered in the entryway. “Are you here to take me skating? I can’t tonight. Me’n Dad are goin’ to a football game. Wanna come with us?”
Sherry savored the shock that crossed Garrett’s face before she let him off the hook. “A little bird told me the game is a father-kid night out. I wasn’t going skating, anyhow, Keith. I’m here to talk to your dad about a student.”
“Oh. Okay.” He turned to Garrett. “Can I have a bowl of cereal? I’m starved.”
Garrett ruffled the boy’s unruly curls. “Are you getting ready to shoot up another foot? Isn’t this the third bowl of cereal you’ve eaten since you got home from school?”
“Yeah...but if I had a dog, I wouldn’t sit around eatin’ and watchin’ TV.”
“Don’t start on the dog bit again,” Garrett warned. “Keeping you in cereal is infinitely easier. Besides, I told you, the Association rules don’t allow pets.”
“I know.” Keith hunched his shoulders and shuffled toward the kitchen.
“No
w, where were we?” Garrett swiped a hand over his mouth and chin. Then he gestured Sherry toward the living room. “Can I offer you water or a soda?”
“Neither, thanks. I’m really anxious to get home. Hey, before I forget, thanks for calling a staff meeting for next week. We got your memo today.”
Garrett seated her on the couch and took the opposite chair. “I’ve heard the gripes. I don’t want any confusion over the changes coming down the pike.”
“Changes? What changes?”
“Ones I want the entire staff to hear at the same time,” he said dryly. “Since you’re in a hurry to get home, shall we skip to the Dickson girl’s problem?”
“As you wish,” Sherry said stiffly. She relayed Robby’s concerns for his sister and added her own recommendations. “They’re a hardworking family. Letty has had her sights set on being a nurse for as long as I can remember. She’s a credit to our nursing program.”
He flipped through the folder. “An honor student except for last semester.” Closing the folder, Garrett tapped it against his lips. “The rules—”
“Forget the rules. Letty isn’t just some statistic. She’s a person.”
His eyes widened marginally at Sherry’s outburst. Was Ms. Success-is-a-destination suggesting he flout the rules? “I’ve never even spoken to this girl. Yet you expect me to step out on a limb. How do I know you aren’t waiting to saw it off behind me?”
Sherry looked offended. “I guess I can see where you might worry. After all, we were on opposite sides of the fence during the interviews. Ask someone else. Ask Temple in the Ag department.” Sighing, she got to her feet. “Ultimately it’s your call. Will you return the folder or shall I? It came from a stack on your desk.”
He jumped up, too, and tossed the file on a glass-topped coffee table. “I’ll authorize her to work this semester. Second semester I’ll reevaluate. If her grades don’t dip, I’ll lift the restriction altogether.”
She mockingly bowed. “Letty won’t let you down.”
“Hey, we’re on the same team. Shall we start the clock over?”
She turned from the door. “Being on the same team doesn’t make me a yes man.”
His gaze, which rested on her wine red toenails, traveled up her legs to her paisley print sarong skirt. Somber blue eyes paused momentarily on her sleeveless teal blouse. Garrett’s eyes ignited briefly before moving on to stop at lips that might have started out the same color as her toenails but had long since been licked bare.
Sucking in a nervous breath, Sherry yanked open the door just as Garrett exhaled.
“You’re absolutely right,” he said. “You’ll never be a yes man. Or any other kind of man,” he muttered.
“That’s right,” she shot back, his next statement cut off in the squeak of the hinges. She caught sight of Keith, idly bouncing a ball down the steps. Either he hadn’t eaten the cereal or he had and slipped out the back door. “Yo, Keith. Enjoy the ball game. And tomorrow, maybe you and Mark could go fishing in the creek that runs through Nolan’s property. If you do, guard your pole against Pilgrim.”
“Who’s Pilgrim?” He caught the ball one-handed and cocked his head in a gesture reminiscent of Garrett.
“Pilgrim is my brother’s golden retriever,” she said. “A lovable mutt. But if you don’t keep an eye on him, he’ll steal your fishing pole just to get attention.”
The boy giggled. Sherry thought it was perhaps the first time she’d heard him laugh out loud. Glancing over Keith’s head to his dad, who’d followed her to the door, Sherry saw from the soft quirk of his lips that Garrett had also been affected by the joyous sound. Her heart tripped awkwardly. She quickened her pace and hurried past the gate.
It bothered Sherry that she didn’t know quite how to pigeonhole Lock. She had a place for men like her dad and granddad. Devoted husbands and fathers who stayed married to the same woman for fifty years. Next came the consummate bachelors. Until recently, Nolan had fit that mold. A separate category held men embittered toward women in general. Last came the dregs. Ex-husbands of the women she worked with every day. Rotten men.
Garrett Lock didn’t seem to fit anywhere.
As Sherry inserted her key in the door, it opened and Yvette pounced. “I saw you flirting. What are you trying to do? He’s the man for me, Sher. Mr. Right. I feel it in my bones.”
Sherry’s eyebrow vaulted skyward. “Is your new motto get ’em young and raise ’em yourself? I was joking with Keith.”
“Don’t try to buffalo me, pal. I saw the look on Garrett’s face.”
Sherry could have said that look was for his son. But Yvette’s jealousy got pretty tiresome. “If I had a dollar for every time you claimed a new man was the one, I’d be a millionaire. I know you and Vonda had it rough after your mom died and your dad went through all those twenty-year-old babes. But you should take a page from Vonda’s book. Ask for the name of her therapist. She’s been happily married for eight years now.”
“I don’t need a shrink. If you were such an almighty expert, you wouldn’t sit at home seven nights a week. So stay out of my head. And hands off Garrett.” Yvette slung her purse over her shoulder and stormed out.
Sherry flinched as the door slammed. She was buffeted by puffs of the sultry fragrance that permeated the hallway. The scent made it difficult for Sherry to breathe. Or was that because of the situation? Maybe she should move, get out of here. Except the lease was in her name and had eight months to run. Given the trouble Garrett had experienced finding a place, she knew it’d be next to impossible to get anything as nice as this. And why should she leave?
Taking refuge in her bedroom, Sherry kicked off her shoes. When they were kids, Sherry and her family had acted as Yvette’s anchor. Yvette’s dad, a wealthy cardiologist, had overindulged his motherless children with material things. During fling number five or six, he’d forced Yvette off to college. Being neighbors, she and Sherry had drifted into rooming together. Yvette’s ability to have fun was a trait Sherry had liked back then. Because she herself was too serious. The bald truth was that neither woman had changed, and what worked at eighteen didn’t work now.
Sherry hated these lengthy self-assessments that she’d been subjecting herself to lately. Counselors rarely healed themselves. Those who tried had fools for clients, as the saying went. At least that made her laugh. Frankly, she still found her best therapy in cooking. So that was what she did. Cueing up a dozen old Elton John tunes on her iPod, she gyrated into the kitchen and rattled pots and pans to her heart’s content.
The house was silent the next morning when she slipped out. She didn’t know or care if Yvette had come home. She ate breakfast at a nearby café, and when she was sure Nolan, Emily and the kids must have left Sherry’s parents to go work on Nolan’s house, she drove out to visit the elder Campbells.
“Behold a stranger,” Nan quipped when Sherry appeared at the back door.
“Oh, Mom. Hardly a stranger. Just last week Emily and I went out to buy the material and pattern for my dress.”
“Almost two weeks ago, Sherry. And you popped in and popped out. I hope you stand still long enough today for me to measure you.”
“Emily said you wouldn’t start sewing it until mid-October. She also told me Nolan inundated her with handwritten pages of notes from our trip. They’re serious about writing a book about the wagon train reenactment, aren’t they?”
“Absolutely. I have to admit they have a knack for humor. I know all those things really happened, but it reads like a farce. I laughed so hard I cried at the account of your meeting with that nice dean Nolan invited for breakfast today.”
Sherry whirled from the coffeepot, where she was helping herself to a cup. “Does Lock know they’re putting that horrible tale in their book? Mom, everyone’ll know it’s us! I’ll sue Nolan, I swear.”
“You signed a rele
ase, dear. That was your idea, I believe.”
“Ha!” she fumed. “Lock didn’t sign anything.” She gestured with her cup, paying no attention to the liquid sloshing over the sides.
Her mother patiently wiped up the spill. “He did this morning.”
“Why? Doesn’t he realize we’ll be the butt of jokes around campus?”
“Who on campus will admit they read lighthearted travel-adventure stories?”
Sherry met her mother’s laughing eyes. “You’re right,” she said, at last allowing a smile. “They’ll dissect Nolan’s academic paper and blow off the book. So, what are you doing today? I really came to see if you wanted to run to St. Louis to shop. Emily said you hadn’t found a mother-of-the-groom dress yet.”
“I’d love to go with you. Is something wrong? I can’t remember ever seeing you not work weekends at the start of a new semester.”
Sherry hesitated. “Mom, I need your advice.”
“Ah.” Nan gave her daughter a big hug. “Advice I’m delighted to give. I didn’t think you’d ever meet your match. I say grab the brass ring with both hands.”
“Mother, what are you talking about?”
Cloaking a conspiratorial grin, Nan patted her arm. “I mean, go for it, girl. If I was twenty years younger, I’d be in a hurry to snap up that handsome Dr. Lock myself.”
“What?” Sherry yelped, and drenched the floor in coffee again. “Oh...but I suppose he is the problem in a roundabout way,” she muttered, doing the mop-up this time. “Get your purse and tell Dad we’ll be back before dark. I’ll explain on the drive to St. Louis.”
She did. And for probably the first time in Sherry’s life, her mother didn’t have answers. Or, rather, she gave bad advice. Nan said Sherry should either make a play for Garrett and tell Yvette to buzz off, or Sherry ought to find another man she could be serious about and show Yvette she wasn’t a threat. Both were stupid ideas. Furthermore, they couldn’t even find an appropriate dress for Nan in all those hours.
The Boss Next Door (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 11
