Читать книгу A Winter Wedding - Бренда Новак - Страница 11

3

Kyle’s cupboards weren’t filled with the ingredients he felt he needed to make a meal for Lourdes Bennett—or any other woman he would’ve liked to impress. He hadn’t been to the grocery store in over a week, which meant he was down to some condiments, some frozen meat, a few eggs and half a loaf of bread.

As he stared into his refrigerator, trying to figure out what he could make, his unexpected houseguest wandered around his living room. At least the teenage girl he paid to clean his house and offices had come yesterday. He’d never been happier that he’d let Molly Tringette talk him into giving her a part-time job so she could save up for college.

“You must like old houses,” Lourdes said.

Giving up on the fridge, he moved to the pantry. “I do. But it’s not as if I set out to buy any. This place happened to be on the land where I built my plant. Made sense for me to live here.”

“Looks like it’s been recently updated.”

“Yes. I used to live in a smaller house even closer to the plant—for fifteen years, ever since I graduated from college. I rented this one out for quite a while.”

“That’s when you opened your business? Fifteen years ago?”

“I was set on manufacturing solar modules from the beginning.”

“You must have rich parents to start such an expensive business right out of college.”

“No. Not at all.”

“Then how’d you get into it?”

Canned goods. Crackers. Oatmeal... Nothing jumped out at him. But he supposed he wasn’t going to find a Caesar salad, bacon and cheddar-topped potatoes and filet mignon in the pantry. He’d have to make whatever they ate, and he didn’t have a lot to work with. “Somehow I convinced the president of our local bank to give me a loan. What with all the new regulations, I doubt the same scenario could happen these days. He lent me that money based solely on his confidence in me.”

“I can only imagine what you must’ve been like—so young and full of ambition.”

“I was certainly driven. But solar was a gamble back then. When I think about it, I’m still surprised he did it.” Giving up on the pantry, he returned to the fridge—as if he might see something different when he looked in it a second time.

“Why was solar such a gamble? Most people see it as the wave of the future.”

“That long ago, the ‘wave of the future’ was too expensive for all but the richest people. That made it hard to sell.”

“I would’ve bet on you, too. In a heartbeat.”

He turned to look at her. “To what do I owe such a compliment? My trustworthy face?”

“I’d credit it more to your inherent confidence. You believe you can do...whatever, so the people around you believe it, too.”

How had she come up with that? They knew virtually nothing about each other. “I had no idea I was so confident that complete strangers could tell.”

“I’m good at reading people.” She gestured around her. “So...you fulfilled your obligation to the bank, and then you remodeled?”

He wondered whether she’d mind if he ran to town to get dinner. He almost suggested it. But she’d said she was hungry, and he guessed she’d prefer not to wait. “I wasn’t in a hurry to put any money into the house. The business has always been my top priority. But last year when I bought the property with the house you’re renting and decided to clean it up, I figured I might as well update this one, too, and move into it.”

That he’d finally gone ahead and made so many improvements drove Noelle nuts, since she’d been dying to fix up one of his houses while they were married. Actually, she’d started out begging him to buy her a big house in town—something that would show wealth and status, and where she could be at the center of activity. He’d refused, and his refusal had caused so many arguments between them that he’d stonewalled her when she eventually gave up and asked for a remodel of one of his current homes instead.

Now he felt like a stubborn ass. He could’ve allowed her to enjoy the process—as well as the finished product. But he’d been so irritated with how shallow she was, and was so miserable being married to her, he’d dug in his heels.

In retrospect, he understood that making her live in an old house he could’ve remodeled but wouldn’t was his revenge for knowing she’d trapped him to begin with.

“You must’ve used the same contractor,” Lourdes mused.

“Yes. One of my best friends, Riley Stinson.”

“He does quality work.”

“Come spring, he’s planning to renovate the house next door, which I’m currently renting to one of my employees, and the one closer to the plant, which is currently empty. They’ll look a lot different when he’s done.”

She stared out at the snow falling into his backyard, which wasn’t a yard so much as a large field. “How many employees do you have?”

“Fourteen, at the moment.”

“That must make you the biggest employer in Whiskey Creek.”

He chuckled as he moved the ketchup and pickles to see if there was anything behind them.

He found...butter. Great.

“Possibly,” he responded. “But that isn’t saying much.”

“Were you born here?”

“I was.” What if he made eggs and toast? It wasn’t a fancy meal, but he had a whole shelf of homemade jelly he’d bought from Morgan’s partner, who canned every spring and then foisted off on him whatever she couldn’t sell elsewhere. Along with some good coffee, fried eggs could be enjoyable...

“Have you ever considered leaving?” she asked.

He straightened. “Whiskey Creek? No, not really. Why would I want to do that?”

“Don’t you ever feel it’s too...confining?”

He thought of Noelle. She found it too confining. But he wasn’t like that. He loved it here, couldn’t imagine going anywhere else. Noelle was the only thing that ever made him want to leave. “No. My parents are in town, and they’re getting older. With my sister and her kids living in Pennsylvania, I need to help look after Mom and Dad. I don’t want to leave it all to my stepbrother, Brandon. Besides, I like the people here, the land, the freedom. Being in a big city, with the traffic and the noise and the pollution...that’s not me.”

“I see. You’re a cowboy at heart.”

“Not a cowboy. I don’t rope or ride. Don’t own a pair of cowboy boots or a Western buckle. But I’m definitely a small-town kind of guy.” He lifted the carton of eggs. “Any chance you’d be interested in breakfast for dinner?”

She turned away from the window. “I could eat almost anything.”

“Why didn’t you stop and get something after you landed?” Except for the fact that he didn’t have much to choose from, he didn’t mind feeding her. But with her determination to avoid public places, what would she have eaten if she’d stayed at his rental tonight? There was nothing in those cupboards, other than some coffee he’d taken over as an afterthought. He’d been asked to provide furnishings, not food.

“I should have,” she admitted. “I was in a hurry. Since I’d never seen your house in person, I wasn’t convinced it would work for my retreat, and I wasn’t sure where I’d go if it didn’t. I felt I needed to reserve time for plan B, just in case.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” He found a spatula, but then he began to wonder if he should give her other options. Not everyone cared for dairy foods. “Would you rather have canned soup? I’ve got tomato or vegetable.”

“No. I’ll take the eggs.”

He pulled out a frying pan. “Good choice.”

The eggs popped and sizzled as he stood at the stove. While he waited to flip them, she moved over to his mantel to examine the framed pictures he had there. “Don’t tell me this is Simon O’Neal!”

He could understand why that might surprise her. Simon was one of the biggest movie stars in America. “Actually, it is,” he said. “A few years ago, Gail, one of my best friends, opened a PR agency in LA. She took Simon on as a client, and long story short, they fell in love. They’re married now and have three kids.”

“And you hang out with them?”

“They’re in LA most of the time, or on location, but we get together whenever they come to visit.”

She moved on to the other photographs. “All the rest of these people are...”

“Those are my parents, on the left. The kids you see are my niece and nephew.”

“Your sister’s children, the one who lives in Pennsylvania?”

“Since she remarried and moved there a few years ago, yes. For a while, she was living in one of my rentals.”

“And these other people?”

He glanced over. “My friends.”

“You have a lot of friends,” she said.

“I’m guessing you do, too.”

“New friends aren’t the same as old friends.”

Was she referring to the paradox of being famous and yet lonely? “Are you missing home?” He supposed that would explain why she’d come to the Sierra Nevada Foothills.

“I’m missing something,” she said.

He flipped the eggs. “And that is...”

She turned away from his pictures and came back to the table. “Nothing. Never mind.”

* * *

Lourdes enjoyed dinner. Kyle—they were now comfortably on a first-name basis—was down-to-earth and didn’t seem too affected by her celebrity. He wasn’t overly solicitous, just real. Somehow that put her at ease, made her feel at home when she’d been on edge for so long. Maybe, since he was used to socializing with someone far more famous than she was, he didn’t consider her to be any big deal.

Or maybe it was just that Kyle was so comfortable in his own skin. Had she ever met a man more self-assured? She’d seen plenty of arrogance in her line of work. And vanity. The vanity was worse than the arrogance. But Kyle was different. He seemed to be at peace with who and what he was, and she admired his quiet strength, even though she didn’t know him very well.

He was the calm at the center of the storm, she thought and felt a spark of creative excitement. That was it! Her first idea! She’d write a song about how one person could provide a safe harbor for others in the middle of life’s chaos and confusion.

The fact that she felt like writing anything lifted her spirits. This was the first time she’d experienced that desire since her last album...

“What are you smiling at?” Kyle asked.

She sobered. “Nothing. It just feels good to be full. And warm.”

“You can turn the thermostat up higher, if you like.” He raised one eyebrow. “But I might have to go sleep in the garage if you do.”

She laughed as she handed him her plate, since he was standing at the sink, and went back to finish clearing the table. “You’re safe. The temperature’s perfect in here.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“So...you’re single,” she said as she brought him their cups.

He seemed startled by the comment. “Yes.”

“An entrenched bachelor?”

“Not quite. I’m divorced.”

She hesitated before going back to get their orange juice glasses. “Do you have kids?”

“No. And considering what my ex-wife is like, that’s a blessing.”

She wanted to ask him more—how long ago he was married, how he met his wife, whether or not she still lived in town. Lourdes also wondered, but wouldn’t ask, why they hadn’t had children. But then her phone buzzed on the counter, where she’d put it earlier. She’d left Derrick several messages while she was at the airport and then when she’d arrived in Whiskey Creek, and he was getting back to her.

Finally...

“Excuse me,” she said, taking her phone into the spare room where Kyle had put her bag.

* * *

Kyle tried to ignore Lourdes’s voice. She was whispering, so she wouldn’t be overheard, but her whisper was so loud it actually drew more attention to her conversation.

He was about to turn on the television. Whatever she had to say to Derrick Meade—there was no doubt it was him, since she’d said his name a number of times—was none of his business. But then he heard tears in her voice and couldn’t help pausing to listen.

“You must’ve been with her...Then where were you all day? You had to know I was trying to reach you...You always have your phone with you. You’d have it surgically implanted into your ear if you could...That’s what you constantly tell me, but that’s not what I’m feeling...Then why continue to put off the wedding? Before you met Crystal, you were in such a hurry...So it’s what’s happened to my career that’s made you back off? If I’m not the hottest singer in Nashville, you’re no longer interested?...I get that, but what else am I supposed to think?...So are you coming here or not?...Never mind. Go ahead and do whatever you have to do for Crystal...No, I’m not! You’re the one who’s acting weird...Forget it. I’ve got a lot to do, too. I’m fine here without you.”

The sudden silence led Kyle to believe she’d hung up. He also guessed she was crying. It sounded like it.

Should he knock on the door and attempt to console her? He’d always been someone who tried to fix whatever was broken, and that included the people in his life. But he couldn’t imagine something that intrusive going over very well for either one of them. They’d barely met.

Assuming she’d prefer her privacy, he put on Thursday night football. Hopefully, that would distract him and give her enough background noise to hide her sniffles.

But it was only fifteen minutes later that the door slammed against the inside wall and she charged out of the bedroom. “Kyle?”

He lowered the volume and looked over at her. Her red, swollen eyes left little doubt that there’d been tears. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She wiped her cheeks. “Not really, but I haven’t been okay in a while.”

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s my problem, and I’ll take care of it, but I was wondering if you’d do me a favor.”

He took his feet off the coffee table and sat up. “What kind of favor?”

“It’s sort of an odd request.”

This made him leery. Noelle always approached him with one odd request or another. “I’m listening.”

“I was hoping you’d call my manager and ask for Crystal Holtree.”

“Who’s Crystal Holtree?”

“If you don’t know yet, you will within the next year. She’s another singer—Nashville’s new darling. Derrick manages her career, too.”

“And you want to see if he’s managing a bit more than that.”

Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Are you sure you should check up on him like this?”

“My heart is telling me he’d never be unfaithful, but my head is telling me something else. I’m going crazy, becoming so insecure. I have to know if it’s him—or me.”

He rubbed his chin as he thought about her request.

“It’s just one phone call,” she said.

“But he knows who I am.”

“Okay, it’s one phone call and you’ll have to claim to be someone else.”

“Like...”

She spread out her hands. “Robin Graham.”

“Who’s Robin Graham?”

“No one. I made up the name. You could say you’re Robin Graham with Country Weekly or CMT and you’d like to interview Crystal. That’s all you’d have to do. He wouldn’t want her to miss that call. If she’s with him, he’ll hand over the phone, and if he hands over the phone, he’s been lying to me.”

“But he has my cell number in his contacts. I put it in the rental ad.”

“You don’t have another phone?”

“Not here at home. I guess I could block my number...”

She nibbled uncertainly on her lower lip. “No, a blocked number wouldn’t be believable.”

“Then we’d have to go over to the office. I have an extra line that wouldn’t give the name of my company on caller ID.”

She appeared more hopeful. “Would you mind?”

It wasn’t really his place to get involved. Also, it was snowing pretty hard. He could hear the wind railing against the house. But he had a four-wheel drive, they wouldn’t have far to go and the storm didn’t seem to be nearly as bad as forecasted, certainly no worse than several they’d had in recent years.

Besides, he could feel her uncertainty. Maybe Derrick Meade wasn’t cheating. Maybe they could relieve her anxiety so she could focus on writing those songs she’d mentioned. She seemed to be down on her luck, but not in the same way Noelle always was. Lourdes had seen a lot of success. She might be someone for whom a little help would make a big difference. “I wouldn’t mind, but—” he checked his watch “—it’s nearly nine in Nashville. Won’t it seem strange to get a business call that late?”

“Not from a harried reporter trying to hit a deadline.”

“Okay,” he said. “Come on.”