Читать книгу What Happens Between Friends - Beth Andrews - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

CHARLOTTE ELLISON HAD a life plan.

She’d thought this through in its entirety, had weighed the pros and cons, dissected each aspect, considered all the consequences and any and every possible outcome. This wasn’t some flighty whim of fancy or a childish fantasy. This was real. Important. Possibly the most important thing she’d ever done.

She applied soft brown eyeliner in the small bathroom off the Montesanos’ kitchen, capped the liner and tossed it into her small makeup bag. Leaning over the sink, she swiped on mascara. She was nothing if not pragmatic. Realistic. Centered and grounded. From the time she was sixteen she’d known exactly what she’d wanted out of life. She’d written it down, then had broken those goals into smaller, manageable steps—just like all the gurus preached. Over the years she’d changed or adjusted those steps accordingly.

She’d already achieved so much. Valedictorian of her high school class? Check. Admitted to the University of Pittsburgh’s school of nursing, graduate at the top of that class and gain employment at Shady Grove Memorial? Check, check and check. Buy her dream home by the time she was twenty-five? She had her eye on an adorable 1920s cottage that had an awesome kitchen, a view of the river and plenty of potential for the extra bedrooms and playroom she’d need once she had her three kids.

A boy and two girls—God willing—all twenty to twenty-four months apart, the first coming along sometime between Char’s thirtieth and thirty-second birthday.

She slicked on a pale peach gloss, rubbed her lips together. Straightened to study her reflection. Sighed. There wasn’t much she could do about the sprinkling of freckles on her nose and across her upper cheeks, the ones that went with hair that was as bright red as her father’s.

The ones that had doomed her to a life of being cute and adorable when all she’d ever wanted was to be sexy and beautiful.

And her hair—dear, sweet Lord, her hair—could have used some serious time with a heavy-duty conditioner, blow dryer and flat iron. That was what she got for coming here straight from work. After a ten-hour shift and that summer storm, the smooth waves it’d taken her an hour to achieve that morning were now back to their original form. Wild, springy, frizzy curls.

She would pull the whole mess into a ponytail except, call her crazy, she didn’t think passing for a sixteen-year-old would help her cause.

At least the rest was acceptable.

Her favorite dark jeans made her legs seem endless, and the emerald-green top she’d splurged on last summer, but had never worn until now, brought out her eyes and clung in all the right places, making it seem as if she actually had a curve here and there. Not an easy feat.

Twisting, she rose onto her toes and checked out her butt. Pursed her lips. Not bad. Not bad at all. Possibly even better than top-notch.

Resolutely turning away from the mirror, she dropped her lipstick into her purse before opening the door and stepping into the short hallway. Voices, laughter and music drifted to her from the living and dining rooms. She turned right, away from the party and majority of people, her back straight, head held high, steps determined.

She was on a mission here. Because while she fully realized some things were out of her control, there was still plenty she could do to make her dreams come true. And if she wanted to be married by the time she turned twenty-seven—after a year of dating and a two-year engagement, thereby enabling her plenty of time to plan the perfect wedding—she needed to get a move on.

And let the man of her dreams know she was interested, available and, most important, ready to be in a serious, long-term relationship.

The first thing Char had done when she’d arrived was to seek out Rose Montesano—best to get on her future mother-in-law’s good side right from the start. When Char had heard that her prey was in the kitchen with his brother, she’d quickly excused herself to freshen up.

She was as ready as she’d ever be. Had psyched herself up about this ever since she’d received the party invitation two weeks ago. In mere minutes, what was destined to be a lifelong love affair would have its beginning.

Her steps slowed. She pressed a hand against her roiling stomach. There was no need to be nervous. No need at all. All she had to do was walk into the kitchen. Make idle chitchat. It wasn’t as if she’d never spoken to the man before. They’d had plenty of conversations, had known each other for, well, her entire life, practically.

Char rubbed her fingertips against her palms. Inhaled a deep, calming breath, blew it—and all the tension and worry she held—out.

Sending up a prayer she would be successful, she stepped up to the doorway.

James and Leo Montesano were the only two inside. Could she really be blamed if she stood there, just out of sight, and took in the sight of two tall, dark, handsome men? If her heart sighed at knowing one would, soon enough, be hers?

They both had on jeans, but while James was dressed for the party in a blue button-down shirt, Leo had on a black V-neck T-shirt that clung to his muscular frame. James leaned against the counter near the stove, his arms straight, his fingers curled around the curved edge. At the sink, Leo—tall, broad-shouldered and handsome as sin with his floppy dark hair and sexy grin—was up to his elbows in soapy water. James said something and smiled as Leo laughed, the sound deep, masculine and enticing as all get-out.

Warmth bloomed in her chest. Glancing up, she mouthed thank you for her prayer about to be answered.

“Need any help?” she asked, making sure her voice was light and bright.

Both men glanced over. And being pinned with those dark eyes made her mouth go dry.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Leo said, rinsing a large tray under the running water at the sink. “How do you feel about washing dishes?”

Char smiled widely—the better to show the dimple in her left cheek to its full potential. “I’ve got nothing against it.”

Leo gave a masculine whoop, quickly dried his hands on the towel tucked into his waistband and crossed to her in a few long strides. Before she realized what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her as if she weighed no more than a five-year-old and spun her around. Laughing, she gripped his shoulders, the muscles bunching and flexing under her hands.

“You’re an angel,” he said in his husky voice. “The answer to my prayers. A—”

“Guest,” James finished. He scowled. “Quit twirling her around like a rag doll and stop trying to weasel your way out of your chore.”

Leo stopped and set her back on her feet, but her head still spun. “I don’t mind,” she said breathlessly.

Leo slung his arm around her shoulders, pressing her against his side. “Yeah, she doesn’t mind.”

“She might not, but Mom will,” James said.

Leo winked at Char as his pager beeped. “Unlike birthday boy here, I’m not afraid of my mother.”

“Better come over here,” James told her, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm and tugging her to his side as Leo read the pager’s screen. “It’s only a matter of time before lightning fries his lying ass.”

“Three-car accident on Jefferson Street,” Leo said, grabbing a set of car keys from the windowsill. “Who’s on tonight?”

Char worked in the E.R. and saw Leo, a firefighter and EMT, often. Most firefighters had their favorite and least-favorite doctors. At the bottom of Leo’s list, she knew, was Dr. Nathan Hamilton.

Hamilton, an obnoxious, sexist creep, was at the bottom of most people’s list, including hers.

“Wertz was there when I left,” she said, “but Goldberg is taking the night shift.”

Nodding, he slapped James on the back. “Gotta run. Happy birthday, bro.” He sent her another devastating grin. Her knees went just a little weak. Hey, she was human after all. “See you around, gorgeous.”

“When did you get here?” James asked as Leo went out the back door.

She crossed to the sink. “A few minutes ago.”

A few minutes. Twenty minutes. What was the difference? Had he been waiting for her? Looking for her? Could she get that lucky?

“None of that.” This time he encircled her wrist and led her to the island. “You are not doing the dishes. Don’t let Leo sweet-talk you into...anything. Ever.” He squeezed her hand, his touch leaving tingles of sensation against her skin. “Now, let’s get you a drink. Wine?”

Since speech was impossible, she nodded. When he turned his back to pour a glass of deep red wine, she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the area where he’d touched her, could have sworn she still felt the heat of his fingers.

“Leo’s a flirt,” she finally managed to say, “and he doesn’t discriminate based on looks, age or marital status. All the women in the E.R. are half in love with him.”

He raised his eyebrows. “All?”

Was he jealous? She could only hope. “Maybe not all,” she said huskily, sending him a look from under her lashes.

“Good.” He handed her the wine, didn’t seem to notice her sexy tone or seductive look. She would have to work on them. “You’re way too good for my brother. Don’t ever forget that.”

She wanted to giggle like a schoolgirl. Wanted to swear to James—as in, cross her heart and hope to die—that she had absolutely zero interest in becoming the next woman to warm Leo’s bed. “I won’t.”

It was an easy enough promise to make. Sure, Leo had that whole charming, playboy thing going on, and he resembled a Roman god with his sharply chiseled face and dark eyes. But he wasn’t the kind of man a woman could count on. Wasn’t the type of man Char wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She wanted a husband who was smart and responsible and successful. A man who would be there for her and their kids, who would be committed to his own career and supportive of hers, and active in the community they both loved.

James Montesano was going to make the perfect husband.

“I hear you’re looking to buy a place of your own,” he said.

She sipped her wine, hid a grimace. Yuck. She couldn’t stand the stuff. No matter what kind she tried, it always tasted like cough syrup. But if James drank wine, then she’d drink it.

And wish it was a beer instead.

“I’ve had enough of renting. It’s time I had something that’s mine, you know? A home, not just an apartment where I happen to sleep. And with Jenn getting married next spring, it seems like the right time.”

“Your roommate’s getting married? Isn’t she a little young?”

“She’s my age, so not so young.”

“Your age is plenty young,” he said, as if he was ancient.

Char pretended to take another drink. She’d wondered if the age difference would bother him. While she couldn’t say it thrilled her to have him think she was a little young, at least she now knew where she stood. And knowing was half the battle.

“You sound like Daddy.” As she’d hoped, he frowned at being compared to a middle-aged man. Good. Maybe that would help him realize he was still in the prime of his life. And having a wife ten years younger would only help keep him young.

“He wants me to move back home,” she continued, “which is so not going to happen.” Holding her glass with two hands, she let out a very put-upon-sounding sigh. “I just wish it wasn’t so hard finding a decent house. The last two I looked at in my price range were horrendous. I swear, I thought they were going to fall down around my ears. Luckily, I found one I think will work, but I have no idea if it’s worth the asking price or how much I’ll have to put into it. The real-estate agent said it needed a new roof, but what if there are other problems, ones that aren’t as easy to spot? The building inspector said he couldn’t get to it for at least a month and there’s no sense asking my dad.” She gave an exaggerated eye roll. “He’s no help whatsoever.”

“Tell you what,” James said, glancing at the doorway as if looking for someone, “why don’t I check the house out for you?”

Triumph flashed, hot and heady, inside her. That was easy.

The heavens really were on her side.

Still, she injected the right amount of hesitation in her voice when she said, “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that....”

“I’m offering.”

She nibbled on her lower lip. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind...I’ll take you up on it. This Friday work for you? Say, six?”

She held her breath while he took out his phone, checked his schedule. “Friday it is.”

“Great.” Taking her courage in hand, she stepped closer, touched his forearm. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, patting her fingers.

Their gazes met, and though she hadn’t planned on their first kiss taking place so soon in their relationship, she couldn’t pass up this perfect, breathless moment. All she had to do was let him know he could take the initiative. But how? Maybe if she slid her hand up to his bicep, rose onto her toes, he’d lean down and—

“Lottie!”

Startled, feeling as if she’d been caught molesting the poor man, Char whirled around. Blinked. “Sadie? Sadie!” she repeated and, with a laugh, ran to envelop her sister in a hug, keeping to herself how much Sadie had sounded like their mother. “What are you doing here?”

Sadie rocked them both from side to side then leaned back and held Charlotte by her upper arms. “It’s so good to see you. Oh, my God, you’re so grown up!”

Char glanced at James as her face warmed. Curse her fair complexion. At least the blush would camouflage her freckles. “I’ve been a grown-up for six years now.”

“Yes, but now you look like an adult instead of a college coed. And this is the first time I’ve seen you live and in person since you flew down to visit me in Memphis. That was what...two years ago?”

“Two and a half.” Though they did text almost daily and video chat once every few weeks. “Come home more than once every few years and my turning into an adult won’t be such a shock.”

Sadie waved that away. “I’m here now.”

Yes, but for how long? She wouldn’t ask. Lord knew Sadie didn’t share Char’s love of plans, schedules and goals. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

“Naturally.” All of her carefree older sister’s decisions were spur-of-the-moment. “Did you know?” Char asked James.

He shook his head. “Not until an hour ago when she showed up in the driveway covered head-to-toe in mud with a dog in her front seat.”

Char laughed. “Oh, I have got to hear this story.”

She hugged Sadie again. Her sister was home and Char had taken those first, all-important steps in her plans to get James Montesano to fall in love with her.

Best. Night. Ever.

* * *

THE NIGHT WOULDN’T end.

Not that it was a bad party, Sadie thought as she let cold dishwater out of the kitchen sink. She just wasn’t in the mood for the whole celebration thing and the act that went with it. She’d played her part, though. No sense disappointing anyone or, God forbid, have them asking her questions about what was wrong, what was going on with her. So she’d made the rounds, flitted from group to group, bringing laughter and making a good time even better.

She was, after all, the life of any party.

Just like her father.

She wondered if it had ever worn him out.

“Sadie,” Rose said as she came into the kitchen, her tone less than friendly. She set down the almost empty fruit-and-cheese platter on the island. “You don’t have to do that.”

Sadie wiped out the sink then turned the water on hot. “It’s no problem.”

“Don’t be silly,” Rose said, smiling tightly. “Go back to the party. Enjoy yourself.”

If Sadie didn’t know better, she’d think Rose was trying to get rid of her. “Really. It’s okay. I want to help.”

“I insist.”

And to go along with her insistence, Rose snatched the bottle of dish soap from Sadie’s hand.

Sadie raised her eyebrows. She could go back, she supposed, as Rose nudged her aside and squirted soap under the water. The party was winding down, but there were still quite a few guests milling about.

That was the problem. She didn’t want to entertain people. Didn’t want to be friendly. Didn’t want to try to charm everyone, entertain them all with more stories of her adventures. She wanted to stay here, right here. She wanted to hide.

And that was the ultimate sin for someone who was always, always the belle of any ball.

“I realize you don’t need any help, but do you...?” She cleared her throat. Tried again, this time adding a pleasant grin so Rose wouldn’t see her true intentions. “Would you mind if I stayed in here anyway?”

Rose stared at her as if she’d asked if she could strip naked and roll around in the leftover cake.

Not that that was a bad idea. It was really, really good cake.

“You want to stay in the kitchen,” Rose said, studying her much the same way James often did. Trying to look into people’s souls must be a family trait. “You do realize there’s a party going on outside of this room?”

“I guess I’m just tired.” Yeah, tired of explaining how her latest idea had tanked and that she had big plans once she was back on her feet again. Of pretending her life was going exactly how she wanted. Of feeling as if every person she’d spoken with had more going for them than she did—careers and spouses, kids and contentment.

She snorted softly. As if she’d want any of those things. Okay, maybe the career wouldn’t be too bad, but only if it was one that let her come and go as she pleased. One that didn’t tie her to a desk in some closed-off office in a town where the most exciting thing to happen was when the local high school football team made the state playoffs.

One where she had the freedom to be herself, to live life on her own terms instead of blindly following the expectations of others. Where she could breathe.

One that wasn’t Shady Grove.

“I could dry,” Sadie offered when Rose remained silent.

Not looking too thrilled with that prospect, she nonetheless handed Sadie a clean towel.

The window above the sink was open, bringing in a crisp breeze. Shutting her eyes, Sadie inhaled deeply and held it, held in the scents of wet grass and fresh, clean air. “I love how it smells after a summer rain. Like everything’s been wiped clean.”

Like anything was possible.

Rose made a noncommittal sound.

“I can’t believe how big Max has gotten,” Sadie said of Eddie’s son as she accepted a dish from Rose. “What is he now? Five?”

“Seven.”

“It seems like just yesterday he was a baby.”

“Yes, well, you’ve been gone a few years now. Things tend to change. Children grow. People get older.”

“I’m getting older, too,” Sadie sang, but her “Landslide” reference fell to the ground with a resounding splat. “Sorry. I can never resist a chance to do my Stevie Nicks impersonation.” Nothing. Not even the faintest hint of a smile, no glimmer of humor lit Rose’s hazel eyes. “Uh...James, he, uh...” Sadie set the plate on the counter, took the next clean one. “Mentioned you’re going back to school.”

“Yes.”

“That’s so great. Really great. What are you taking up?”

Rose sighed, as if dealing with Sadie was more than one person could handle. “Human services.”

“Wow, that’s—”

“Great,” Rose interrupted, rinsing another dish. “So you’ve said.”

Okay. James was right. His mom really was stressed.

And grumpy, too.

Zoe padded into the room, crossed to Sadie and nudged her legs. Sadie slung the towel over her shoulder and kneeled to take the dog’s face in her hands. “Hey, there, beautiful. Did you have fun playing with your new boyfriend?”

Almost immediately after James had first introduced Zoe to Elvis, the two dogs had fallen in love with each other.

“I’m glad you two are getting along so well,” Sadie continued. “And I promise, while we’re at your house, I won’t let him eat out of your food bowl or sleep in your bed.”

Rose inhaled sharply. “Are you...are you staying with James?”

“It’s so much easier,” Sadie said, washing her hands. “I hate to impose on my mom and Will—they’re used to being empty nesters.” Not that her mother and stepfather would complain about having Sadie there. They would probably love it. But it reminded her too much of when she’d been young, of how her life had taken a sudden turn after her father’s death. Of how close she’d come to losing herself.

Like her mother had lost herself.

Sadie took a hold of the serving bowl Rose held out. “Plus, with Will’s allergies, there’s no way I could bring Elvis there. And there’s barely room for Lottie and her roommate in that cramped apartment, so I asked James to put me up for a little while.”

Rose looked as if she’d sucked a lemon then chased it with a shot of drain cleaner. And she still hadn’t let go of the bowl. “How long is a little while?”

Sadie frowned, considered yanking on the damn thing, but resisted. Barely. “A few weeks or so.”

Rose shut her eyes. “Lovely,” she murmured.

“Is that a problem?”

“Why would it be?” As if realizing she was in a subtle tug-of-war, Rose let go of the bowl. “Like you said, it’s only a few weeks. And then you’ll be off again.”

At least that thought seemed to cheer her up.

Sadie hummed “Landslide”—now that it was stuck in her head, resistance was futile—and stared blindly out the window. Luckily, the storm had dissipated almost as quickly as it had formed. After the last of the rain, the clouds had shifted, blowing away to find some other poor town to soak. Best of all, only three people had called her Cyclone Sadie.

One of them being her sister, so that didn’t even really count.

Frank and Rose’s house sat back from the road on top of a small knoll. Frank’s father, Leo—or Big Leo as he was known to family and friends—occupied the small cottage on the corner of the property. James’s only sister, Maddie, lived with her daughter across the street. Even Eddie lived on the street, though a block away, while Leo had an apartment two streets over.

Only James had separated himself from his family, choosing to build his house on the outskirts of town.

As if conjuring him out of thin air, Sadie heard the familiar deep tone of his laugh moments before he stepped into the soft glow of the lanterns spread across each tier of the deck. Smiling—she’d always loved the sound of his laugh—she opened her mouth, ready to call out to him only to have the sound die in her throat when she realized the reason he was so jolly. He was with someone. A woman. An attractive woman in a deep blue wrap dress that showcased her curvaceous body and killer legs. A dress that made Sadie feel decidedly underdressed in her floor-length, multicolored skirt and black tank top.

They stopped next to an SUV, one of the few vehicles that had circumvented the traffic jam in the driveway by parking in the yard near the back corner of the house. James said something that had the brunette smiling and swatting his arm, her hand lingering there longer than necessary.

“Eddie’s heading home,” Frank said as he came into the kitchen. In khakis and a green polo, he was still as trim and fit as when Sadie had first met him as a child, the only signs of age a few lines around his brown eyes and a liberal sprinkling of gray in his short dark hair. “He’s going to drop Dad off on his way.”

“Are Maddie and Bree still here?” Rose asked.

“They’re saying good-night to Gerry and Carl. It was nice of you to invite them.”

“They are almost family.”

“Almost.” He came up behind his wife and kissed the side of her neck. “You outdid yourself, Rosie. As usual.”

She tipped her head to the side so that it pressed against his. “Thank you. I think James enjoyed himself.”

“He seems to be enjoying himself now,” Sadie murmured, wondering at the bite to her tone, the tightness in her chest.

Rose and Frank both followed her gaze out the window. The brunette had her head close to James’s, said something as he typed on his phone.

Putting her number into his contact list.

Sadie cleared her throat. “I don’t recognize her. Is she a friend of Maddie’s?”

“That’s Anne Forbes. She works for a local painting contractor,” Frank said, picking up a clean towel and drying the next dish. Raising his bushy eyebrows, he nudged Rose with his elbow. “You must be pretty pleased with yourself.”

“You know I hate to brag,” Rose said. “But since you mention it, yes. Yes, I am.” She glanced at Sadie. “Very pleased.”

“Is this one of those family secrets?” Sadie asked, forcing her tone to lighten, her lips to curve.

“No secret. Rose here decided to take matters into her own hands and find our eldest a wife.”

Sadie’s scalp prickled. Her hands tightened on the towel, twisting the fabric until her fingers went numb. “A wife?”

“No one’s booked St. Theresa’s for a wedding mass yet,” Rose said drily. “I just thought he might be interested in meeting a lovely, intelligent woman.”

“As opposed to the ugly, stupid women he’s usually interested in meeting?” Frank asked.

“Well, he did go out with Melissa Alden,” Sadie said, glad her voice had returned to normal. “She was cute enough, but dumb as a rock. Then again, James was fourteen and, I believe, hypnotized by the sight of Melissa in her cheerleading outfit.”

“Many men have had their better sense stolen by short skirts.” Frank winked at Sadie. “How do you think Rose managed to nab me?”

“I’d take exception to that,” Rose said, “except it’s true. And it worked.”

Frank leaned down, whispered something in Rose’s ear that had her laughing.

Wanting to give them privacy, Sadie crossed to a different window, looked out as James opened the door to the SUV. Anne climbed into the driver’s seat, her dark, straight hair swinging above her shoulders. She really was lovely. Sadie had seen her earlier in the living room when she’d been chatting with Maddie and Big Leo. Sadie had envied the other woman’s red, open-toed shoes, the way her side-swept bangs fell perfectly.

Sadie lifted her hand to her own hair, tucked an errant curl back into the messy bun at the top of her head.

James shut the SUV’s door and Anne turned on the ignition. A moment later, she backed up then pulled forward. James watched as she drove alongside the driveway.

So, James had met someone. Sadie rolled her eyes. Obviously he’d met Anne, but they’d exchanged numbers. Had maybe even made plans to meet for drinks. Or dinner.

A date.

Good for him. Maybe it would work out and he and Anne would fall in love, get married, have a couple of little Montesanos, kids who had James’s easy grin, his love of schedules and his anal tendencies. There was no one more suited for marriage and family life than James. He deserved to get everything he wanted. Deserved to be happy.

Hadn’t Sadie always known he’d find someone? It might not be Anne, but eventually he’d meet a woman he could love and spend the rest of his life with. And when he found that woman, it would mean the end of Sadie’s relationship with James.

Oh, sure, they would always be friends, but things would change between them. How could they not? No longer would she be able to stay at his house when she returned to town. She’d have to stop calling him whenever she wanted, night or day, just because she wanted to hear the sound of his voice. Because she’d missed him.

No longer would she be first in his life. That spot would belong to his wife, his family, the way it was supposed to.

He wouldn’t need her at all. He’d have what he’d always wanted.

And she’d be left alone.