“He hates it. You know, sometimes I think he’s so anti-settling down just because it’s everyone else’s idea and not his own. What do you think?”
“I don’t care.”
“But if you did. Care, I mean.”
“If I cared?” Diana put her pen down. “I would say that pushing someone into marriage is about the worst thing anyone can do. People should get married because they can’t bear the thought of not being married to each other. Not because there’s some kind of arbitrary deadline they’ve got to meet.”
“Wow. That’s almost exactly what Scott said. Only he used a little more…colorful language.”
Diana smiled. “I bet he did. But why do people want to fix Scott up? Why not Ty? Or one of the others?”
“Because he’s the youngest of the Turlock brothers. Three brothers, all tall dark and gorgeous. Now the two oldest are married. One with a baby on the way. Time for Scott to grow up and settle down. And the night Scott rescued you? You became the front runner.”
“Me?” She’d been trying hard to forget that humiliating night. It had all been bad enough without the video.
“Hey, I was there. I’m definitely Team Diana all the way.”
Diana froze. “Team Diana?”
Julie’s eyes shifted noticeably, and had sudden interest in Diana’s Alphasmart. “I’ve seen these before. Throw backs, huh? But we should really get back to me. Shouldn’t we? I didn’t mean to get us off track like this.”
Nice deflection. “What do you mean by ‘Team Diana’?”
Her fingers strummed the table. “The fire academy was tough, I won’t lie. You have to carry about seventy-five pounds of weight up a flight of stairs. But—”
“Julie!”
“All right.” Julie threw up her hands in the air. “To be fair, these little games liven up life in a dull town sometimes. I’m in the pool at work. And also the one down at Rosie’s.”
Diana didn’t know where to begin. What pool? “Rosie’s?”
“Oh, owner of the only hair salon in town. The Curl Up and Dye. My hairdresser, Kailey, is your biggest fan.”
Fans? She had fans? “I…I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Julie’s face turned a shade of pink. “We’ve got it narrowed down to three. Three women that we all think would make Scott a great girlfriend. Team Brenda, which at last count was way ahead in the polls, Team Diana in second place and Team Fallon dead last. Mostly because Fallon keeps saying she’s not in it to win it. She and Scott are just friends, she says. I don’t think anyone believes her, but I do. Pretty sure she’s also Team Diana.”
“This is nuts.” Except that nuts wasn’t a big enough word for it.
“It’s just for fun. No one really believes they’re going to get to choose. I mean, if it worked out, that would be cool. But it’s not like he’s going to do what we say. Right?”
“I’m guessing I made the list because of the rescue.”
“It was pretty romantic to watch,” Julie said with a sigh. “Scott just had you in his arms like he was carrying out his lover and not a complete stranger. I love a good romance.”
Romance, i.e. fantasy. Diana understood the need to believe in romantic stories, and in happily ever after. She had too, for six long years with Bradley, unable to see that dedication and loyalty were sometimes another way of avoiding the inevitable. Just because you wanted something, were willing to work hard for it, didn’t mean it would happen. “But this is real life. Damn I wish I hadn’t picked that night to wear lingerie.”
“You looked great. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
It didn’t seem like the proper time to mention that she wasn’t flaunting anything. Diana took a breath and changed the subject. “Speaking of flaunting it, what are your thoughts on the calendar?”
“I’ll be buying my copy. For years, men have had their girlie calendars hanging in garages all across America. Now it’s our turn. I just hope women excuse the February model. She doesn’t have a set of balls to go along with her abs.”
“Maybe we’ll get some men to buy the calendar too.”
Julie gave a wide grin. “Think so? Hey, maybe I’ll get a date out of this.”
Diana and Julie talked for a few more minutes, but when Julie had to leave, Diana chose to walk to the market. She’d been fed a steady diet of comfort foods since her arrival at Gran’s and other than the nights she’d retreated to her bedroom starving, there had been no in-between. Maybe it was time to find the happy medium between a tomato and fried chicken. She picked out fresh zucchini, squash, broccoli and boneless chicken breast. She wasn’t much of a cook, but she could perform a Google search as well as the next person.
When she carried her bag outside, it nearly slipped out of her hands at the sight of Scott standing near his truck. He wore jeans falling tantalizingly low around his hips and that ever present t-shirt, cotton straining tight around his biceps and defining his broad shoulders. He was talking to a pretty blonde woman, who grabbed his shoulders, then threw back her head and laughed. Flirting. Obviously. Brenda? Before Diana even realized what she was doing, she’d stepped back inside the air conditioned market, nearly running right into a customer on his way out.
“Hey! Watch it,” the man said, then blinked. “Oh, it’s you.”
She didn’t know the man, but he’d obviously seen her in all her glory on the Internet. “Um, hi.”
He cocked his head. “Huh. You look different in person.”
“Thanks?” She stepped out of the man’s way, who seemed more irritated than anything else as he walked past her.
“Have a nice day!” he called out, shocking her.
Good. Maybe the video noise was already dying down. People would forget. They would move on. Diana tried walking back out again, and this time both Scott, the pretty woman, and his truck were gone.
Team Diana.
She could almost hear an announcer’s booming voice: ‘Diana, this is your mission should you choose to accept it. Do you want the guy or don’t you? If so, lie down now and give me fifty push-ups! C’mon, girl! Don’t you know the meaning of competition?’
No. She didn’t. In fact, she sucked at competition. The only person she’d ever been in competition with was herself. That’s why it had been so easy for Tiffany to swoop in and show Bradley that she was better for him than Diana. Tiffany was also a software engineer and had a lot in common with Bradley. Not to mention she was thinner. Prettier. Successful.
If Diana wanted real change to come she’d have to step out of her comfort zone. She didn’t know why breaking out of her comfort zone brought about a vivid image of Scott—eyes smiling, every inch of his hard and able body screaming headboard banging sex. It would seem that he’d overcome the prior bad boy image of his youth. He’d gone from boy to man and become the kind of person anyone could rely on. The question of the hour was whether or not she should rely on him. She already had, in many ways. He’d saved her life. But for someone who had literally saved her, he had a way of frightening her too. Maybe because he was too good at making her feel out of control, and control over her feelings was the last real thing she had left.
He’d made it clear he was interested in her. For now. Not like she hadn’t been in this place before, with a guy who wanted what he couldn’t have. It would hurt too much to be cast aside again, forgotten. Dad. Bradley.
And Scott had already managed to forget all about her once before.
The odds seemed stacked in favor of it happening all over again.
Chapter 11
Diana couldn’t get a simple one thousand word article written. How was she supposed to help Mrs. St. Michaels throw together a book about tenants from hell? Not going to happen. But she still had an article to write and a looming deadline, so while Gran was at bingo with Pop the following Saturday, Diana set her Alphasmart on the kitchen table.
Again, she seemed stuck in a staring contest with file number two. She tried several times, but no words
would come. Stuck. Again. Mandy had not-so-helpfully analyzed and over-analyzed Diana’s so-called writer’s block. Supposedly, Diana was so afraid to fail that she couldn’t get a word down on paper. It was, Mandy reasoned, safer not to try than to try and fail. But Diana had to kick fear in the balls. Then she had to find her balls. She had to plunge head-first into this blank page, which she could always fix later. This was truth on a fundamental level, and yet still no words would come.
Somehow, in one thousand words, Diana wanted to get across the heart and soul of the small town fire department. Benny and his foster kids. Julie and her ground-breaking. Scott. Except that she couldn’t write much about him. He didn’t want the attention.
There was a knock at the door because somehow the entire world seemed to be hyper aware when Diana was writing and could use an interruption. Diana looked through the peep hole, but it wasn’t FedEx or the UPS guy delivering a robe or flannel PJs. This time it was Scott, and he had a toolbox with him.
“Hey,” he said when she opened the door. “Got the new sink.”
“I thought Wallace was going to do that.” He looked sexy as sin in faded blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt, the cotton straining tightly against his broad shoulders.
“He sent me and he’s the boss. Can I come in?”
She’d been blocking the doorway like some kind of bridge troll. “Oh, sure. Come on in.”
“How you doing, pal?” He strode past her, carrying the faded toolbox.
“Great, buddy.”
“The old folks at bingo?”
“Yep.”
At least Diana was no longer embarrassed to have company. The counters were cleared of books and magazines and had gone into storage to appease Gran. Diana had managed to clear out the backyard shed too, findings odds and ends that could be used in the spare bedroom once she moved out of it. She planned on making the spare room into a sewing and reading room for Gran, who far from being a shut-in or a hoarder, might be the sanest person in their entire family.
Scott set down his tool box near the sink. He sure didn’t smell like a sweaty hard working man. More like pine scented and fresh. Edible. A minute later he went out to get the new sink which he carried inside without much effort. Diana tried to ignore him, sitting at the kitchen table and staring at the blank screen, purposely furrowing her eyebrows in concentration. Maybe if she looked mean enough, the words would come. Maybe if she threatened them. Worth a try.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Writing.”
“Because it looks like it’s pissing you off.”
“It is.”
He glanced over her shoulder, so she clutched the Alphasmart to her chest. “You can’t see yet.”
“Sure. But a guy could get paranoid.”
“Well, don’t take it personally. I might not be writing about you. And I’m private about my writing.”
“Just pretend I’m not here.”
Diana restrained the laugh. Right. She should pretend that the man with the rocking hard body, the man that made her skin snap crackle and pop, her pal, her buddy, wasn’t just feet away from an available bedroom?
“I’ll try.”
To his credit, Scott stopped talking to her. He became completely involved in his work, doing whatever the hell he was doing with that wrench. She knew this, of course, because she kept busy watching him instead of writing. He was one hell of a distraction, muscles rippling through his well-worn t-shirt. Those long legs and fine ass—
She gave up and walked the Alphasmart to her bedroom. Slipped on a pair of sandals and walked back to the kitchen to get a cold bottle of water from the fridge. She held it against her forehead and considered putting it between her thighs where the real heat seemed to be.
“How’s it going?” She stood in the doorway.
“I should ask you that,” Scott said from underneath the old sink.
“Good,” Diana lied. “I rented a studio in town. I move in tomorrow.”
“No kidding. Where?”
“The Victorian Gardens about a mile from here. I’ll still be close to Gran.”
She could hear him wrenching away under the sink. “Thought you were leaving at the end of summer.”
“I got a month-to-month lease.”
“Hard to find. Let me know if you need help moving.”
She snorted. “There isn’t much to move.”
She’d been by the fire station the day before yesterday. Her laptop: death by drowning. All of her clothes had smoke damage. Fortunately she’d salvaged her ID and some credit cards she’d had in the nightstand drawer.
“Or if you need any help at all.”
“Of course, Scott, I know you want to help me. You want to help everybody.”
“Not everybody.”
“Okay, almost everybody. But I’m good. Really. I got this.”
“Except that place you’re about to move into? It ought to be condemned.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Sure, it was small and old. The owner had obviously cut corners. But the price was right.
There was only a grunt from Scott. She supposed that meant he disagreed.
Diana made an effort to sound casual. Unaffected. Simply curious. “Hey, so who’s Brenda?”
If she wasn’t mistaken, he stopped his wrenching. “A friend.”
“Yeah, you have lots of friends, don’t you?” Her throat tight, the question no longer felt casual.
“Not like you.”
Liking that answer, she decided to quit while ahead. “Do you need some help?”
“Actually, I need to turn off the water at the main. You know where that is? I’m sure it’s the same as my house. It’s next to the hose spigot. Turn the bar and that should shut the water off.”
“Be right back.” Diana walked to the front of the house and Gran’s hose. A large fern blocked a clear view, but she fished around and found a bar underneath. He’d said to turn it, but would that be right or left? Righty tighty, lefty loosey, she remembered from watching home improvement shows with Bradley. Easy decision, since the bar wouldn’t turn right or left. She yanked it up as hard as she could, then went back inside.
“It’s done,” Diana said.
“Thanks.”
She heard a few more wrenching sounds under the sink and a moment later a jet stream of water sprung out full force. The spray hit Diana right in the chest, managing to soak her t-shirt. She didn’t know a damn thing about plumbing, but her guess was that this wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Oh, crap!” She turned to go back outside and turn the lever the other way, but instead she tripped over Scott’s long legs.
“Diana!”
She recovered from a face plant by splaying her hands out but now they slid in the water in two different directions.
“You okay?” Scott squatted over her holding out his hand, eyebrows furrowed. Of course he would be worried about her even as Gran’s kitchen had turned into an adult version of a slip and slide.
“Oh yeah. I’m good.” On all fours, she tried to get up using him for leverage.
“Need to go shut the water off.”
He probably would have been able to do that, had she not slid right into him and almost knocked him down. Thankfully, he was sturdy and probably had a better sense of balance than she did, so he didn’t fall.
“Stay.” Scott stood her up, and steadied her in place by putting a hand on each of her shoulders.
He ran out of the house, impressively not tripping or sliding once. A moment later, the water stopped spewing out of control and Scott walked back inside. He kind of looked like he’d taken a shower with his clothes on. This made his jeans and shirt stick to him, kindly outlining every inch of hard body perfection, and there were many, many inches.
She grabbed a dish towel and patted her flushed face. “Sorry. I guess I sort of turned that the wrong way.”
“Good guess.”
Her mom jeans were plastered to her, not to mention her l
oose and gauzy peasant blouse which was pretty much see-through right now. Another free show for the guy. “Oh crap.”
He gave her that oh-so-wicked smile again. “You could headline a wet t-shirt contest right now. And win.”
“I’m not wearing a t-shirt.”
“That’s my point.” He grabbed another dish towel nearby and ran it over his head a few times. The hairs spiked up and so did her heart rate.
“More towels. That’s what we need.”
She needed to change too but for now, she’d rather clean up before Gran got dropped off and freaked out about the water bill. She got upset when her PG&E bill was more than sixty dollars. Diana glanced at the clock. They had about an hour before Gran returned, unless she went to lunch with Pop. She’d mentioned the possibility before leaving, but there were no guarantees.
Scott followed her to the linen closet and they begin laying towels all over the kitchen floor, soaking up the mess and wiping down cabinets and countertops. They worked silently for a few minutes until Diana said, “Thanks for not giving me a hard time about this.”
“Who said I’m not?” He slid her a look. “Later.”
His hot look swept over her, and she suddenly wasn’t sure how much longer she could refrain from jumping him, friendship be damned. She carried some of the heavy wet towels into the laundry room. “I’ll just throw these in the wash first.”
She opened up the washing machine, filled it with some towels and added soap. “I should get out of these wet clothes.”
“Probably.”
It occurred to her that Scott needed to dry his clothes before he went home, so the least she could do was offer him the perfectly good dryer right next to the washing machine. It would be the right thing to do, hospitable even, and she was suddenly all about doing the right thing.
“You might want to get out of those wet clothes too.” She turned her back to him, and opened the dryer door. “I can dry them for you at least.”
When she turned around, Scott already had his shirt off and handed it to her. Diana tried not to salivate as she threw it in the dryer. But then Scott pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, slowly slid his jeans off and her heart skipped several beats. The water had them so skin tight on him that he had to slowly slide them off his hips and oh. Sweet. Baby. He almost pulled off his boxer briefs with them, but they stayed on. Damn shame.
Unforgettable You (Starlight Hill Series Book 4) Page 13
