Читать книгу From Neighbors...to Newlyweds? - Brenda Harlen, Brenda Harlen - Страница 9

For a minute, she just stared at Matt as if he’d spoken in a foreign language. And with every second that ticked away during that interminable minute, he wondered if he should rescind his impulsive invitation.

He wasn’t usually the impulsive type, a truth that was proven by the fact that he’d kept the condo he’d lived in with his wife and child for three years after they’d gone rather than take a hit on the downturned real estate market. Or maybe he just hadn’t been ready to move on until now.

But he was ready now. And if Georgia agreed to go out with him—even just once for dinner—it would hopefully convince his niece to put her matchmaking efforts on hold.

“Are you asking me out … on a date?”

Except that her question, along with the skepticism in her voice, made him question whether he truly was capable of getting his own dates.

It can be a nightmare if things don’t turn out.

He ignored the echo of Luke’s words in the back of his mind. While he trusted that his brother had his best interests at heart and believed that there was some legitimacy to his warning, Matt couldn’t deny the instinct that was urging him to get to know Georgia a whole lot better.

“Let’s not put a label on it,” he said instead.

“So it’s not a date?”

“It isn’t anything until you say yes.”

She considered for another few seconds, then shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You can’t have dinner with a friend? A neighbor?”

“I can’t leave my kids with a stranger—even if she is one of the most sought-after babysitters in town.”

But he thought that, for just a minute, she’d been tempted.

“Quinn and Shane seem to like her just fine,” he pointed out.

“She’s been great with the twins,” she said again. “But Pippa is another story. There are certain things that no one but Mommy can do for her.”

Okay, he didn’t need to be hit over the head. At least, not more than once. And if his gaze automatically dropped to her breasts, well, he made a valiant effort to yank it away again.

Not so quickly that she didn’t notice—as was attested by the color flooding her cheeks.

“Okay, then, how about dinner at my place so you’re not too far away if you’re needed?”

“Look, I appreciate the invitation, but I’m doing okay. You don’t have to feel sorry for me because I’m on my own with three kids.”

“Is that what you think—that I feel sorry for you?”

“I don’t know what to think,” she admitted. “But it’s the only explanation I can imagine that makes any sense.”

“Maybe it did occur to me that a few hours away from your responsibilities might be appreciated,” Matt allowed. “But I don’t feel sorry for you. In fact, I think you’re lucky to have three beautiful children, and that they’re lucky to have a mother so obviously devoted to them.” Because he knew from firsthand experience that there was nothing quite like the bond between a parent and child—and that nothing else could fill the void when that bond was broken.

“I am lucky,” she said softly. “Although I don’t always focus on how very lucky—and I don’t always know how to respond to unexpected kindness.”

“You could respond by saying you’ll come to my place for dinner on Friday.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

“That’s not the response I was looking for,” he reminded her.

“I’ll come for dinner on Friday,” she finally agreed. “If Brittney is available—and willing—to watch the kids.”

“Is seven o’clock good?”

“Shouldn’t you check with the babysitter first?”

“Brittney will make herself available,” he assured her.

“Then seven o’clock should be fine,” Georgia said.

“Any food allergies or aversions?”

She shook her head.

“Favorite food?”

She smiled. “Anything I don’t have to cook.”

It was a long night for Georgia.

She gave Shane some children’s acetaminophen to take the edge off of the pain, but she could do nothing to combat his frustration. He was usually a tummy sleeper, and he didn’t like having to stay on his back with his injured arm elevated on a pillow, even if it was what “Dr. Matt” had recommended.

And she didn’t have any better luck settling Quinn. While he’d been happy enough to wheel his brother around the hospital and indulge in ice cream, neither activity had succeeded in completely alleviating his worry about his twin.

But aside from checking on Shane and reassuring Quinn and nursing and pacing with Pippa, what really kept Georgia awake through the night was second-guessing her agreement to have dinner with her sexy new neighbor.

He was a genuinely nice man who was wonderful with her kids, and if those were the only factors to consider, Georgia wouldn’t have hesitated to accept his invitation. But Matt Garrett made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a very long time—if ever before—and the stirring of those unexpected feelings made her wary.

Her mother had always said that falling in love was kind of like jumping into a pool without testing the water. And there was no doubt that Charlotte had always enjoyed that crazy sense of plunging into the unknown. Georgia had never been the type to leap without looking—she liked to gauge the temperature first and ease in slowly.

And that was the perfect analogy for her relationship with Phillip. She’d loved her husband, but their affection had grown over time along with their relationship. They’d started out as friends who’d shared common interests and values—and a mutual distrust of romance. Phillip had been engaged previously, but that relationship had ended when he found his fiancée in bed with his cousin. Georgia had, as a result of her mother’s numerous relationships more so than her own experience, mostly steered clear of any romantic entanglements.

But Phillip had been as persistent as he was charming, and one date had led to another until, before Georgia knew what was happening, they were exchanging vows. They’d had a good relationship, a solid marriage. They’d been compatible enough, even if the earth hadn’t trembled when they made love, and she had sincerely loved him.

When they’d decided to get married, she’d had no reservations. It wasn’t that she couldn’t live without him so much as she didn’t want to—he was her best friend, the one person she knew she could always rely on, and the one person she always felt comfortable with.

She didn’t feel the least bit comfortable around Matt Garrett.

She was thirty-one years old and a mother of three children, and she didn’t have the first clue about what to do with these feelings that he stirred inside of her. She wished, for just a minute, that Charlotte was here so that she could talk to her about this inexplicable attraction. Four marriages—and four divorces—had given her mother a lot of experience with love—and heartbreak.

Except that Georgia didn’t need to talk to Charlotte to know what her advice would be. “Go for it. Have fun—and make sure you have orgasms. Life’s too short to fake it.”

She smiled, almost hearing the echo of her mother’s voice in her mind even as she chided herself for jumping the gun. After all, just because the man had invited her over for dinner didn’t mean he was looking for anything more than that. Just because her heart pounded wildly inside her chest whenever he was near didn’t guarantee that he felt the same attraction.

“I’ll be glad when your Gramma’s home tomorrow,” she said to her daughter. Not that she expected her mother would be able to put the situation in perspective for her, but she would help out with the kids so Georgia could get some sleep. Because after more than a week of serious sleep deprivation capped off by an unexpected trip to the emergency room, she was starting to feel more than a little frazzled. But she was confident she could handle things on her own for twenty-four more hours.

The first few weeks after Pippa’s birth had been pure bliss. The baby had slept and nursed and cried very rarely, and Georgia had been completely enthralled with her. And then, around four weeks, Pippa had started to get fussy. She still slept and nursed frequently, but the sleeping was for shorter periods of time, the nursing more frequent, and the crying much louder and longer.

After a thorough checkup, Dr. Turcotte had announced that there was absolutely nothing wrong with her aside from “a touch of colic.” He’d been sympathetic but unable to help. And though Charlotte had offered to cancel her annual trip with “the girls,” Georgia couldn’t imagine letting her do it. Because if she’d accepted that offer, it would be like admitting that she couldn’t handle her own baby. Besides, Charlotte had already done so much for her daughter and her grandchildren.

When everything had started to fall apart in Georgia’s life, her mother hadn’t hesitated to invite her to come home. Not that Pinehurst, New York, had ever actually been her home. In fact, Charlotte had only settled in the picturesque upstate town about half a dozen years earlier, long after Georgia was living and working in New York City. But Georgia hadn’t needed a familiar environment so much as she’d needed her mother. As she needed her now.

She was passing the kitchen when the phone rang, and she grabbed for the receiver automatically, forgetting for a moment that she didn’t need to worry about the noise waking the baby because Pippa was already awake and snuggled happily—at least for the moment—in her carrier.

Georgia recognized her mother’s voice immediately. “Hey, Mom, I was just talking to Pippa about you.”

“How is my beautiful grandbaby girl?” Charlotte asked.

She always sounded upbeat, but Georgia thought she sounded even more so today. Not that it took much to make her mother happy—something as simple as winning a couple of hands at the blackjack table or scoring front-row seats to see Wayne Newton could be responsible for her joyful mood.

“She seems content enough right now,” Georgia said, not wanting to let her mother know how difficult the last few days had been.

“Oh, I miss my grandbabies so much,” Charlotte said. “Have you been givin’ them all big hugs and kisses from me every day?”

“I have,” she assured her mother. “But they’re looking forward to getting them directly from you when you come home tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s actually why I was callin’,” Charlotte began, and Georgia felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her belly. “There’s been a little bit of a change in my plans.”

“What kind of change?” She tried to keep her voice light and borrow the brave face her mother always wore.

“I met someone.” The excitement fairly bubbled over in Charlotte’s voice again. “Oh, honey, I didn’t think I would ever fall in love again. I certainly didn’t expect it. I mean, I’ve already been so lucky in love—”

Lucky? Only Charlotte Warring-Eckland-Tuff-Masterton-Kendrick would think that four failed marriages somehow added up to lucky. On the other hand, her effervescent personality and unfailing optimism were no doubt two of the qualities that continued to draw men to her, in addition to the fact that she looked at least a decade younger than her fifty-four years.

Okay, Georgia thought, trying to be rational about this. Her mother had met someone. She certainly didn’t have any philosophical objection to Charlotte having a romantic relationship—not really. But she did object to her mother, or anyone for that matter, believing that she’d fallen in love with a man she couldn’t have known for more than a handful of days.

“—but the minute our eyes met across the baccarat table,” Charlotte continued, “I felt a jolt as if I’d just stuck my finger in a socket.”

Georgia had to smile at that. “I’m glad you’re having a good time—”

“The best time,” Charlotte interjected. “And after the ceremony last night, Trigger got us upgraded to the honeymoon suite, and I swear, I drank so much champagne my head is still spinnin’.”

Right now, Georgia’s head was spinning, too. Ceremony? Honeymoon suite? Trigger?

“Mom,” she said, attempting to maintain a rational tone in the hope that it would calm the panic rising inside her. “Are you telling me that you married this guy?”

“Honey, when love comes knockin’ on the door, you don’t just open up, you grab hold with both hands and drag it inside.”

Georgia banged her forehead softly against the wall.

“So yes,” Charlotte finally answered her question. “I am now, officially, Mrs. Trigger Branston.”

“His name is really Trigger?”

“Oh, his real name’s Henry,” she told her daughter. “But they call him Trigger ‘cause he’s so quick on the draw.”

“Quick on the draw?” she echoed, fingers crossed that this whole conversation was some kind of bizarre waking dream induced by her own mental and physical exhaustion.

“With his gun,” Charlotte clarified. “He’s a bona fide member of the Cowboy Fast Draw Association and World Fast Draw Association and he’s won all kinds of contests.”