Читать книгу Carter Bravo's Christmas Bride - Christine Rimmer - Страница 8

Chapter Two

Not only was Carter’s mother a manipulative nutcase; his best friend had checked out on him.

Carter sat between Paige and Dawn at the long, white-clothed table in his half sister Clara’s formal dining room and wondered what was the matter with Paige. She’d hardly said two words to him all afternoon. At some point between the time she’d left the breakfast table that morning and two forty-five in the afternoon, when he picked her and Dawn up to bring them to Clara’s, Paige had gotten dressed, combed her hair and put on makeup. But her eyes still had that strange vacant look.

If someone spoke to her directly, she would lurch to life and pretend to be interested. But as soon as the focus moved elsewhere, she’d settle back into the weird funk she’d been in for days now.

Twice, he leaned close and asked her if she was okay. Both times, she lied. “Fine,” she said the first time. “Great,” she answered later.

He left her alone after that. They could talk about it when they got back to her place.

For now, he enjoyed his family. The food was always good at Clara’s house. Plus, Clara was a truly sweet woman and happily married to a banker from Denver named Dalton Ames. They had a six-month-old daughter, Kiera.

Carter liked hanging around Dalton and Clara. Just seeing them together made him smile. They’d had some difficulties when they first started out, but they’d worked through them and come out strong on the other side.

Same thing with his brother Quinn and Chloe Winchester, who was now Chloe Bravo. Truthfully, Willow might be full of crap about a lot of stuff, but she was right about Quinn and Chloe. Quinn and Chloe had that thing—whatever it was. They shared that special connection, same as Dalton and Clara.

And then there was his cousin Rory and her fiancé, Walker McKellan. Rory Bravo-Calabretti was an honest-to-God princess from the tiny Mediterranean principality of Montedoro. She’d moved to Justice Creek last winter. She and Walker, who owned a guest ranch not far from town, were getting married on Christmas Eve.

And yeah, Rory and Walker had it, too. Same as Clara and Dalton. Same as Quinn and Chloe.

Hanging around at Clara’s house on Thanksgiving, watching those three couples interact with each other, Carter could almost start to think that love and forever were actually possible.

At least for other people.

Once the meal was through, they all helped to clear the table. Then a little later, Dalton turned the game on in the great room. Some of them—Carter included—gathered around the big screen mounted over the mantel.

Most of the women headed for the kitchen area, which shared the high-ceilinged great room space. Carter could hear them back there, bustling around, laughing and talking over each other, having a fine time. He heard Paige’s distinctive husky laugh. Apparently, whatever was bothering her didn’t stop her from having fun with his sisters.

Dawn came and sat on the sofa arm next to him. He glanced up at her and she sent him a quick smile. Then Quinn’s daughter, Annabelle, who’d recently turned five, wandered over. She was the cutest kid, with a plump little pixie face. Chloe must have done her hair. It was curled and held back with big sparkly barrettes. She wore one of those puffy, lacy dresses that little girls liked to wear, complete with white tights and shiny black Mary Janes. She whispered something to Dawn.

Dawn said, “Absolutely,” and swung the little girl up on her knee.

Annabelle leaned back in Dawn’s arms as if she belonged there. She caught Carter watching her and said, “I like Dawn, Uncle Carter. She’s very pretty.”

“Yes, she is,” he agreed.

Dawn, who’d always been good with kids, cuddled Annabelle closer.

Carter felt a little better about everything, with the two happy girls sitting next to him. He liked his family—his mother excluded, at least at the moment. He liked that Dawn felt comfortable here at Clara’s with his siblings and half siblings.

Now, if only he could get Paige to get real about whatever was bugging her. Once they had that out of the way, he could tell her all about the stunt Willow had just pulled and break the bad news that they needed to find another property for the expansion.

After the pie and coffee, Carter drove Paige and Dawn home in the ’61 Lincoln he’d taken out of the shop for the day. He was looking forward to being alone with Paige so they could talk.

“Gotta hurry.” Dawn was out of the car the second he pulled up to the curb in front of their house. “I’m meeting Molly at the Gold Rush in twenty minutes.” The Gold Rush was the movie theater on Golden Drive. She leaned in the rear door she’d just jumped out of. “Thanks, Carter. It was fun.”

Paige said, “Home by—”

“Midnight, promise,” Dawn finished for her and pushed the door shut.

Carter started to turn off the engine, but Paige said, “I’m really tired. And me and my Visa card have a shopping date tomorrow.” Bravo Custom Cars would be closed. It was a BCC tradition to give everyone both Thanksgiving and Black Friday off. Paige went on. “Nell and Chloe and Jody are picking me up at three a.m.” Nell and Jody were his sisters. “We’re driving into Denver to check out the deals. I need sleep to get ready for a day of serious shopping, so I think I’ll draw a hot bath and call it an early night.”

He turned off the engine and shifted in the seat to face her. “You mean you don’t want me to come in.”

She cleared her throat. “Well, as I said. I’m tired and it’s going to be a long—”

“Stop it. Tell me what is going on.”

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing—”

“Paige, you’ve been dragging around like the world’s coming to an end for two or three days now, all the time constantly telling me there’s nothing wrong. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Really.”

“Come on. It’s something.”

“Nope. Uh-uh. Nothing. Like I said, I’m just really tired.”

He gave in. “Fine. Great. Later, then.” It was only a ploy. He honestly expected her to hesitate, to say she was sorry for brushing him off, to ask him not to be annoyed with her—something. Anything.

But she only chirped out a quick “Night, then. And thanks. I had a great time,” and leaped out of the car.

He watched her run up the front walk and disappear into the house. He just didn’t get it. Paige told him everything. In detail. Way too much detail, as a rule.

What could be bothering her that she couldn’t talk about it with him?

* * *

The next morning, Carter decided he would walk Sally alone. He was kind of pissed at Paige for shutting him out. Why in hell would he want to walk her damn dog for her?

And she was in Denver anyway, right? She wouldn’t be there to eat any breakfast he cooked for her.

But then what about Dawn? Paige hadn’t mentioned whether Dawn was going, too. What if Dawn was home alone? She’d need breakfast.

And what about poor Biscuit? Biscuit liked his morning walk with Sally.

So Carter and Sally went over to the Kettlemans’, after all. He got Biscuit and walked the two dogs. On the way back, he called Dawn on her cell.

She answered with a big yawn. “Yeah, what?”

“You still in bed?”

“How’d you guess?”

He grunted. “Just checking to see if maybe you went to Denver with Paige.”

“Uh-uh. Too early for me. You coming to make breakfast?”

“I’m on my way.”

He made French toast and tried to be subtle when he asked Dawn if she’d noticed anything different about Paige in the last few days.

Dawn groaned. “Oh, yeah. Something’s on her mind. But every time I ask, she tells me there’s nothing.”

He felt instantly vindicated. And then he frowned. “So...you don’t know what it is, either, huh?”

“I’m clueless. Seriously. But how awful can it be, really? I mean, she got up at two-thirty in the morning to spend the day shopping. I don’t think it’s an incurable disease or anything.”

“A disease?” That kind of freaked him out. “It didn’t even occur to me she might have a disease...”

“Carter. Pull yourself together.”

“Well, I’m worried about her, okay?”

“She’s just feeling down about something.”

“It’s not like her,” he grumbled.

“Everybody feels low now and then. Eventually, she’ll tell you. She always does.”

“Yeah,” he said, feeling marginally better. “Of course she will. She always does.” He knew everything about Paige, all the little things—that she thought she looked bad in purple and she liked ’70s rock.

He knew that she’d been in love with a loser named Jim Kellogg when she was in college. She and Jim had been talking marriage, but he dumped her when her parents died. He said he didn’t want to follow her to some Podunk small town and help her raise her sister. Since then, she’d only dated casually.

He asked Dawn, “What time did she say she’d be back from Denver?”

“Five or six—and, Carter?”

“Yeah?”

“Let it go. She’ll tell you when she’s ready to tell you.”

“You’re right. I will...”

After breakfast, he took Sally home and then headed for Bravo Custom Cars, thinking about Paige the whole way. About him and Paige, about how they’d hit it off from the start.

He’d met her at Romano’s Restaurant, where she’d started working after her parents died. He’d liked her right off and he used to eat there at least a couple of times a week, partly because Romano’s had the best Italian food around. But mostly because he loved to sit in Paige’s section and give her a hard time. He’d asked her out more than once. She’d turned him down over and over, but he kept trying.

Finally, she’d told him gently and regretfully that she was never going out with him.

She hadn’t told him why she wouldn’t date him. Not then. The truth had come out later, as their friendship grew. About how she was happier on her own, that her heart had been stomped on but good by that Kellogg creep when she was already in bad shape from losing her parents.

But that was later.

He could still remember her way back at the beginning of their friendship, still see her so clearly, standing by his favorite booth at Romano’s, her hands in the pockets of her waitress apron. “I don’t need a date, Carter. But I could sure use a friend.”

“Then you got one,” he’d said.

The overhead fluorescents had brought out red lights in her dark brown hair, and her soft mouth kicked up at the corners. “Does my friend need another beer?”

When he opened BCC, she’d answered his ad for an office manager. He hired her on the spot and she got right after it, moving the furniture around in the office for better “work flow,” as she called it, setting up the front counter and the customer waiting area so she could see everything from her desk. He knew cars. Paige knew a whole lot about systems and how to set up the front of the shop. Not only did she seem to have a knack for running the place; she’d been a semester away from getting a BA in business when her parents died and she quit to come home.

The woman knew her way around a spreadsheet. He’d figured out within the first few weeks that he needed to keep her around. So every year at Christmas, he gave her a percentage of the company as her Christmas bonus. Five years after they opened BCC, they were best friends and she owned 25 percent of the business.

They had a good thing going. And somehow, now that she’d cut herself off from him, suddenly everything in his life seemed all wrong. Best friends were supposed to communicate. Paige knew that. Or at least, she always lectured him about communication whenever he got feeling down and wouldn’t say what was bugging him.

He unlocked the gate at BCC and sailed onto the lot. Stopping the Lincoln in front of one of the bay doors, he climbed out and went around to the shop’s side door, where he turned off the alarm and let himself in. A button by the bay sent the accordion door rumbling up. He pulled the Lincoln into the open bay, got out again and shut the bay door. It was sunny out, but only in the midthirties, so he turned on the heat.

The Lincoln, which he’d customized in a number of pretty cool ways, needed a little fine-tuning. He needed to let all this worrying about Paige go. She would talk when she was ready to talk. And when she did, he’d be there to listen.

In the meantime, BCC was closed for Black Friday and he had the whole place to himself. He could get the Lincoln purring like a kitten and ready for the day trader from Boulder who’d commissioned it from him. And then he might even get started on the already cherry ’68 Shelby Cobra GT-500 Fastback that Deacon wanted pimped out with a whole new sound system and all the modern conveniences, including GPS. Deacon also wanted a rear spoiler, a modified grille and monster wheels with some really garish rims. It kind of seemed a shame to do that to a work of art like the Cobra. But Deacon didn’t pay him the big bucks to suddenly get squeamish over messing with the classics.

Carter had a killer sound system in his shop. He turned on the radio to a hard rock station. As ZZ Top roared out, he zipped up his overalls and got down to it.

He didn’t notice he had company until about an hour later, when he rolled out from under the Lincoln and headed for the inner door to the office and the little table in front of the window, where Paige kept one of those K-Cup machines. He had a nice hot mug of coconut mocha on his mind and had all but forgotten that he’d failed to relock the side door to the shop when he came in.

Whipping a rag from his rear pocket, he wiped the worst of the grease from hands and switched off the radio. He loved vintage Bruce as much as the next man, but sometimes a little silence was good for the soul.

As he turned for the front-office door, he registered movement out of the corner of his eye.

And then he saw her: Sherry Leland, his ex-girlfriend.

Sherry had taken the cover off the metal-flake candy-apple-red ’67 Firebird just back from the painter’s on Wednesday, and draped that killer body of hers across the hood.

“Hello, Carter.” She gave him one of her come-and-get-me smiles. The smile matched her outfit: a red thong, a Santa hat and sky-high stilettos.

It was a testament to how over Sherry he really was that his first thought had very little to do with her being nearly naked. His first thought concerned how those pointy heels of hers had to be screwing up the Firebird’s high-dollar paint job.

“Sherry,” he said and tried not to sigh.

“I thought you’d never come out from under that car.” She stuck out her plump lower lip in a sexy pout and tossed her long blond hair. “I’m starting to get kind of chilly.” She fluttered her eyelashes and glanced down at her bare breasts. Yep. She was chilly, all right. “Come on over here, baby,” she cooed. “Come here and warm me up.”

“Sherry, I...” He really wanted to ask her to please get off the hood and be careful while she was doing it. But showing concern for the paint job right at that moment would only send her through the roof.

Her pout started to get kind of pinched looking. “What is the matter with you? I missed you. I’m here in this smelly garage of yours practically naked and it’s all for you.” The big blue eyes suddenly brimmed with fat tears. “I’m here to get past this little problem we’ve been having. I’m here to prove to you how much I want to work things out.”

There was nothing to work out. They were done and she knew it, had been done for months now.

He spotted her black trench coat. She’d tossed it on top of the cover she’d whipped off the Firebird. So he stuck his rag back in his pocket, crossed to the coat, grabbed it and held it up for her. “Sherry, come on.”

She sniffled. “How can you be so cold? You’re breaking my heart. How can you do this to me?”

“Put your coat on,” he coaxed.

“Fine. Sure.” Sharp heels digging in, she scrambled off the hood. He tried really hard not to wince at the sight. She tossed her hair some more. And then she came at him, hands raised in frustration. “I hate you, Carter Bravo!”

“Sherry, there’s no point in—”

“Hate you!” And she hauled back and bitch-slapped him right across the face. That shocked him. She’d never physically attacked him before.

Then all the fight went out of her. She crumpled, burying her head in her hands. The sobs started.

He gently wrapped the coat around her. “It’s over,” he said quietly. “You know it is.”

She sobbed harder. “But I love you...”

He took her to the counter at the window between the shop and the office and whipped a few tissues from the box there. “Come on, now. Blow your nose.”

She snatched the tissues and swiped at her cheeks.

He said sincerely, “I’m sorry, Sherry. For everything. Let me drive you home.”

“Forget it.” With a furious sniff, she shoved her arms in the trench he’d draped on her shoulders and tied the belt, hard. Then she raked her acres of hair off her face and aimed her chin high. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He had no idea what to say next, so he said nothing. She wheeled on one of those pointy heels and stalked toward the side door, flinging it wide when she got there. That door was made of steel. It banged good and loud against the wall. “That does it, Carter. I am through. Finished. I hope I never see your face again.”

He kept his mouth shut. He had a feeling that even the sound of his voice right then could have her storming at him all over again. Uh-uh. Better to keep quiet and stand still.

At his extended silence, she fisted both hands at her sides, threw her head back and let out a yowl of frustration. A second later, she disappeared from sight.

Carter stayed right where he was, hardly daring to breathe, until he heard the Camaro he’d rebuilt for her start up. She gunned it and then roared from the lot. He gritted his teeth, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t run into anything, wouldn’t hurt herself or anyone else.

As the sound of the engine faded into the distance, he let himself breathe again. And then, reluctantly, he took a good look at the Firebird.

Yep. Dents and gouges all over that hood. Resigned, he whipped the cover back in place. Monday, he’d get it back to the paint booth and tell the customer he’d need a few more days before the car would be ready.

It would be okay. Sherry would get over him and eventually move on.

He just wished he knew what was wrong with him. He just wished he could someday find a sane woman to get involved with. His mother had it right about one thing. He’d always known that someday he wanted a family.

Well, the years were going by. And someday was starting to look a whole lot like never. But what the hell was a guy supposed to do? He’d tried over and over and it always ended up the way it had with Sherry. This time, he had zero desire to find someone else and try again.