by Barbara Lohr
But Sasha didn’t budge. “Okay. Be stubborn.” Heaving herself upright, she headed for the kitchen and some peach tea. Maybe that would calm her. The noise echoed through the vents and she tried to ignore it.
After she finished working on her website, she clicked her profile on Lowcountry Singles. Five new responses. Hope got her opening those emails.
Now, what menu of men was being offered today? Okay, the first profile was definitely older. After her experience with Vince, she was going to be very careful.
Emily scrolled down. The second “prospect,” as Jackson insisted on calling them, was a little too slick. His profile sounded as if a speechwriter had written it. The blue oxford cloth shirt was open at the neck and his blonde hair looked styled. That smile had definitely been brightened. Way too dandified for her. Hayden described himself as “upwardly mobile.” He was looking for “a suitable partner to glory in his success.” Adoration was probably more like it.
Feeling vulnerable after Vince and Shane, she didn't want to go there. There was “nice but not interested” button. One quick tap and she moved on.
The next profile made her enlarge the picture. Trevor was leaning against a piling, in front of a lake or maybe even the ocean. The navy V-neck and jeans said casual, a shy tilt to his head was endearing, along with his puppy dog eyes. Longish hair curled behind his ears.
Trevor had two children. No pictures and she respected him for not posting them online. For some crazy reason she hoped they were girls. Girls would be a lot easier.
He’d sent her a teaser. That was how this site worked, although no one else had bothered. Maybe they didn’t know what a teaser was. You work with food? I’m looking for a good cook and life partner. His direct approach appealed to her. So did that open smile.
She replied to his message and then closed out and went to fix lunch. After hard-boiling eggs, Emily whipped up some egg salad. Along with a dollop of pickle relish, some onion and lots of mustard, she used fat-free yogurt in place of mayonnaise. After the popcorn, she wasn’t that hungry so this would be dinner. After she stuck the container of egg salad in the refrigerator, she couldn’t help peeking out back.
To her relief, the dumpster had disappeared. A Coastal Kitchen Designs van had pulled up and men were carrying in large boxes that probably held cabinets. Turning Emily eyed her own cupboards, which looked ancient. Her kitchen was so dated, but least everything worked. Well, most of the time.
Just as she was finishing up, Sasha came creeping out for lunch. “Poor little girl.” Emily brushed some dust balls from Sasha’s long white fur. “Pretty soon, all this noise will be over.”
And then Jackson would be gone too. She wouldn’t catch a glimpse of him every day. That dampened her spirits.
With a nervous twitch, Sasha shook her off and buried her nose in the food as if she hadn’t eaten for days.
When Emily settled in front of her laptop, she saw that Trevor had replied. Emails flew back and forth with the usual questions. Although he didn't live here in town, he lived in Asheboro, not too far away. And yes he’d be glad to meet her at the Comeback Inn. She felt comfortable about that. After all, she’d been there and had felt fine. They set a time for a couple days away.
She let her mind wander. Daydreams tempted her. For a fleeting moment she pictured herself at Victoria’s open house with a guy like Trevor on her arm.
Then her phone rang. Jackson.
Her stomach did a happy dance. Maybe good friends felt that way about each other. But her feelings when Bryn’s or Josie’s name popped up were totally different from this irrational excitement that got her heart galloping. She picked up. “Will the drilling end soon?”
Jackson hissed out a sigh. “I’m sorry. Don’t suppose you could work at the library while the guys are working? Shouldn’t take them that long.”
“And leave Sasha? I’d never forgive myself and I can’t take her there.”
“That’s so you, Em. Never leave a pet behind. Wish I could help you out.”
How? By taking Sasha to play with Spartacus and Maximillian? “What’s up?”
“Just wondering how your dating search is going.”
Search. Now, that did sound desperate. “Fine. Great.” She paused. But he’d offered to be her advisor. Might as well share. “You’ll be happy to know I decided not to go out with a guy old enough to be my father.”
“Why are they contacting you anyway?” He sounded all huffy about it. “Don’t answer that. I think I know why.”
His fuming was so cute. “Vince was a nice guy, okay? A widower. But kind of sad.”
“Well, sure. But do you really want to deal with that?”
“Dating issues are popping up that I never even considered.”
“Did you let him down easy?” Now his voice held a playful note.
“I ended up giving him advice. The poor guy. All he wanted was a replacement for his wife. You can't blame a man for that.”
“Guess not. But those gold necklaces? Not for you.” The line was silent for a moment. “You've always been kind, Emily. That's just who you are.”
The compliment sent a hot flush into her cheeks. If he kept that up, she might believe him. But when it came to Jackson, part of her clamored that she wanted to be sexy, not kind. Or glamorous, like Victoria. “Thank you. I guess.”
Jackson chuckled. “Said with no enthusiasm whatsoever. Any other prospects on the horizon?”
“I’m meeting someone tomorrow evening. Another appointment at the Comeback Inn.”
“Another older widower looking for comfort?”
Why was he digging for details? “This fellow’s divorced. So maybe I'll shine in comparison to the woman he left or who left him.”
“Emily, you’d shine compared to anyone.”
Wow, the compliments were flowing like melted butter. Popcorn came to mind. Squeezing her eyes shut, Emily tried to picture popcorn covered with something gross. She’d read that online somewhere as a diet strategy. But no matter how hard she tried, the bad stuff turned to chocolate and there she was. Starving. She’d never been a dumpster diver, but maybe she should consider it. Her eyes went to her trash can. “So where were these nice compliments when we were in college, Jackson?”
A dry gravelly laugh was his reply. “Time changes things, Em. Besides, you were always too busy thinking about Lyle or Macon––whoever was your flavor of the month.”
Flavor of the month? “Wow, Jackson. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
“Don’t take that the wrong way. Gosh, Em. I’m not as good with words as you are. I don’t want you to make a mistake.”
She paced in her office. “You’re supposed to be helping me, not slamming me. Look, I have to run. Work to do.”
“Emily, look. I’m sorry––.”
She clicked off her phone. The words hurt because they might be true. She pressed the edge of the phone against her lips. In college, she had been easily impressed. Quick to bake cookies and send funny cards. And none of that had worked. The guys with funny lines weren’t really her future. They weren’t steady like her dad. He was the backstop for Mama and loved her like crazy. Teetering on thirty, Emily was still figuring out what her forever man might be like.
The hammering and sawing continued. A fierce hunger opened up inside. That trash can was still on her mind. Self control could be overrated. Restraint might stifle the human spirit...or something like that. In two seconds she was in the kitchen, flipping open her trash. After a little digging, she found the crumpled popcorn bag. The intoxicating smell rolled up to meet her. She plucked it out. Sasha disappeared, as if she couldn’t look.
Emily’s pet had standards.
But as she sat at her computer, munching on cold buttered popcorn and writing about walnuts, it hit her. “All those gold necklaces.” How did Jackson know Vince was wearing those chains? Flipping back to Vince’s profile, she checked. His shirt was buttoned up in his profile picture.
Had Jackson b
een lurking in the shadows that night?
Of course not. He wouldn’t do that.
Or would he? And why did that thought send a frisson of excitement through her body? She tossed the popcorn back in the trash.
***
Emily dressed carefully for meeting Trevor at Comeback Inn. Leaving her dark hair down, she chose a cotton aqua V-neck sweater with a pair of larimar earrings her parents had bought for her on a cruise. Then it was back to the jeans and boots with just a spritz of light perfume, another gift from her mom.
As she grabbed her tote, Sasha stood at the door, giving Emily a doleful look. “I know, it’s finally quiet and we should be watching TV together.” Striding back to the living room, Emily picked up the remote and found a pet show for Sasha. When she left, her kitty was curled up on the couch, facing away. She was punishing Emily. Cats were such crafty creatures.
“I’ll be back soon.”
A twitch of that smoky gray tail was the only response. Maybe sooner than she knew. No more therapy sessions, she reminded herself as she hopped down the stairs. If Trevor turned out to have issues, Emily would cut the meeting short.
It didn’t take long to reach the Comeback Inn. Jackson’s suggestion had been a good one. No more dark, twisty roads, and Emily did feel safer. Not too may cars in the lot when she pulled in. As long as the place wasn’t packed, she should be okay. Tote hooked over one shoulder, she went inside. Trevor was waiting just beyond the door, although they’d agreed to meet in the bar.
“Emily?” Trevor was every bit as handsome as his picture.
“Y-yes.” Get a grip, Emily. Was she blushing? “I thought we’d meet at the bar.”
Trevor gave the bar a dismissive look and hitched his shoulder. “Let’s get a quiet table so we can talk. You hungry?”
“Yes.” My, he seemed to know the way. A receptionist had appeared. “Menus?”
Trevor looked at Emily. “That okay with you?”
“Sure. No problem.” They were moving right along. Maybe when soulmates met, this was how it worked.
“Yep. Thank you, Maria.” He nodded at the waitress. “A table in the corner, if you have it.”
Remembering Keith’s familiarity with the waitress, Emily felt a shimmer of doubt. But she wouldn’t jump to conclusions. Sliding two menus from a rack, Maria nodded. “Follow me.”
Okay, Trevor was scoring points with every woman he met. He had the quiet assurance of a guy who usually got what he wanted by asking politely. In her mind her dad was giving Emily a thumbs up.
The waitress threw Emily a sly smile as if to say aren’t you the lucky one?
But as they threaded their way through tables jammed together, Emily wasn’t feeling lucky. She would have preferred a table on the edge. Space seemed crowded. Sucking in air, she struggled. Feeling Trevor’s hand on her back helped. The gesture was casual but welcome. She wasn’t alone.
And she didn’t want to blow this.
They followed Maria back to a table for two, away from the jukebox and the dance floor. This would be all right. A couple of repetitions of breathing in and holding for the count of five helped settle her.
Trevor pulled out her chair. Another nod from Daddy. Once seated, they both ordered a beer. With that short drive home, she felt safe ordering a drink.
Hands steepled under his chin, Trevor studied her. A hundred butterflies took flight in her stomach. “So have you been doing this long?” Maybe she’d picked up a thing or two from Vince’s questioning. “Meeting people, I mean.”
Trevor’s eyes dropped. “Too long.”
Feeling sorry she’d asked, Emily almost reached out. Instead she knotted her hands in her lap. Hands off. She’d learned that from Shane. No invading personal space and touching, although she’d enjoyed the light pressure of Trevor’s hand on her back.
It has to be the right hand, Emily. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just curious.”
“Not your problem.” Looking up, he gave her a rueful smile. “It’s just that, I never saw this coming.”
“What? You mean me?” She flattened a hand on her chest.
“Oh, no.” Sitting back, Trevor stretched his long legs out to the side. The waitress arrived with their beers.
“Ready to order?” Maria asked pertly. But they both shook their heads. Emily fingered her unopened menu. With a click of her pen, the girl disappeared.
Emily needed way more than a minute to figure out a guy. That much she knew. Trevor took a sip of his beer. Emily traced a line down the moisture beaded on her mug. Awkwardness hung in the air. “How to explain this?” Trevor finally said. “Have you ever been married?”
“No.” Good grief. Maybe next he’d ask her age.
“Hey, why the glum face?” Trevor’s smile was back. “It’s just that when I got married, I never thought I’d be divorced someday.”
“Oh, that. No, I suppose not.”
“But I’m getting too serious.” Flipping open his menu, Trevor scanned it. “They have great burgers here.”
“Flame grilled,” she read from the menu. “I love that.”
“Of course the meat should be well done.”
“Medium for me.” Her mouth watered as she looked at the picture in the menu. “A little pink is good.”
“You really have to be careful with raw beef,” he said slowly, as if they were making a big decision here. His eyes met hers and then they dropped. “Of course, order what you want.”
Disappointment weighted his words, like he was sad to watch her die from food poisoning when they could have had such a great future together.
But his concern for her was kind of sweet.
She studied the menu. A medium burger with swiss cheese and caramelized onions would do just fine. The waitress returned and they both ordered.
Back to business. “So the divorce took you by surprise?”
“Sure did. But I wanted custody of the twins and I got it. Might as well put that out there.” He spread very nice hands open on the wooden table. “Some women don’t want to contend with kids.”
Contend? “Twins? How cute.”
His caution became a pleased grin. “Daisy and Annabelle can be very cute. On other days, they’re a handful. They’re four now. After a year, I guess my wife, Delia....” He seemed to have trouble getting the name out. “She decided that she didn’t want children. They’d ruined her figure. Motherhood was too much for her. First it was all the diapers, all the way down to braiding their hair, when they finally had it.”
“Oh, no.” She felt sorry for him and even sorrier for the two little girls whose mother didn’t want to braid their hair every day. She could see herself picking out barrettes. “How long were you married?”
What were the rules about questions?
Jackson came to mind. Get the information, Em.
“Only eight years. We had a hard time getting pregnant. So we did some really expensive stuff. You know, in vitro. I was overjoyed about having twins. But not Delia. She became a different person.”
“How terrible.” She couldn’t imagine a woman not being delighted with two little girls, especially when she had trouble having them. So often, people didn’t appreciate what they worked so hard to achieve.
His mouth tightened. “Sorry, Emily. I didn’t mean to pile my dirty laundry on the table.” Trevor brushed a well-manicured hand over the rough table surface. When he found a couple of crumbs, he scrubbed them off vigorously.
“No really. That’s fine. I just feel so bad for you and your little girls.”
“The situation was hard to explain to the girls. Some days she’d be crazy about them. Other days, not so much. Children don’t understand that kind of parenting.”
Emily thought of her own parents. Their love had always been unconditional. Her mother had been horrified when she cut her bangs as a little girl. But Mama had hugged Emily as she took the scissors away. “Now look in the mirror, Emily. Is this the way you want to look?” Emily never touched those s
cissors again.
“Enough of that.” Trevor’s expression cleared. “How about you?”
“Well, I’m, ah, single. Never m-married.” Why hadn’t she practiced this at home instead of stuttering around like this? “Just moved back to Sweetwater Creek from the city.”
“Whoa, leaving the bright lights behind?” He grinned. “Do you miss it?”
“Not at all.”
He laughed and she joined in. “What I meant to say was I have friends here and family.” Sweetwater Creek had enfolded her as if she’d never been gone. She felt safe here. That thought helped her relax. She forgot about the tables squeezed tight with people.
This meeting was going great.
But Emily had a bad habit of making snap decisions.
Chapter 14
The waitress returned with their burgers. The tantalizing aroma and the surprise of sweet potato fries made her mouth water.
“The Lowcountry has its own flavor. It’s a great place.” Trevor cut across his burger, which looked totally brown. The meat wasn’t well done. It was dead and flavorless. But Emily bit her tongue. He poured ketchup on his burger. At least he’d taste that.
Taking a knife, she cut her burger in half. Juice oozed from the pinkish meat. Glancing up, she caught the horror in Trevor’s eyes. “What?” She grabbed the ketchup. One squirt would do. She didn’t want to ruin the flavor of those caramelized onions.
“Don’t you want to send that back?” he asked slowly. “A few minutes more and it’ll be perfect.”
She chuckled. “I like my burger this way.”
Nervous eyes glued to her meal, Trevor swallowed. “Bacteria in ground beef isn’t killed until the meat reaches one hundred sixty degrees. I hate to be rude, but that doesn’t look safe.” His tone was overly casual, like it was an effort.
She put her bun down. Would Trevor ruin every meal like this? Well, he was a scientist.
Confusion clouded his eyes. “Of course. Well, I’m sure it’s fine.” Apparently this was a concession not easily made.
“If I pass out, just call the EMTs.”
