Читать книгу A Great Kisser - Donna Kauffman - Страница 12

Lauren smoothed her hair, then her shirt, then her hair again, for at least the hundredth time. She’d dressed casual-nice, despite the fact that, from what she could tell, the town at-large was almost universally casual-casual. Which normally would have suited her just fine. One of the things she’d immediately loved about quitting her job was not having to armor up every morning. But, when she was dressing for dinner, she decided she could use all the support she could get. She might not like the power suits and sensible pumps, but, in truth, she felt more in control while wearing them. Capitol Hill Lauren. Assistant to a powerful state senator, Lauren. Future-all-mapped-out Lauren.

Which was definitely better than newly jobless Lauren, no future plans Lauren, or wildly attracted to the local plane jockey Lauren.

No, what she needed to be was “ready to meet the man you can’t believe your mother married Lauren.” Yeah, that was going to take at least a few layers of well-tailored support.

Satisfied that she was as pulled together as humanly possible, she ignored the rampantly flapping butterflies in her stomach and pushed through the doors. She welcomed the cooler air of the restaurant and drew in a deep breath of it. But before she could even look for the table where her mother and Arlen were likely already seated, she was accosted by the hostess.

“Well, hello! Welcome to Ragland Gap. I’m Kim, your hostess.”

Kim, another naturally caffeinated denizen of Cedar Springs. Lauren might have worried that she’d landed in Stepford-ville, except they were all so sincere in their friendliness, it was hard not to respond in kind. “Hi, Kim. I’m meeting a party of—”

“Oh, I know. You’re Charlene Thompson’s daughter.”

It caught her badly off guard, hearing her mother called by her new married name. She’d never thought to wonder if her mother had changed her name. It just felt…odd. Okay, it felt downright wrong, but she was trying—really—to be the new and improved, less biased, more compassionate Lauren. Which was challenging enough without being known on sight to yet another complete stranger. “Lauren Matthews,” she said, introducing herself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. George—he’s the owner—gave the mayor a private room so you all could reunite without any distractions.”

“Oh,” she said. Great. Everyone not only knew they were dining here, but it was also apparently common knowledge that it was also their first family meeting. Lovely. Well, she supposed she should be grateful, at least, for the private room. She had no idea how the next hour was going to go, but the less public the better. “Thank you.”

“I’ll show you the way. Follow me.”

Lauren was probably imagining that everybody was staring at her as she passed through the crowded dining room. Surely they were all whispering about something else completely, and there really wasn’t a hush as she approached followed by a sudden burst of conversation after she passed by. All in her head.

She tried not to make eye contact and just prepare herself for the imminent hellos, and felt entirely conspicuous as Kim nodded at any number of diners as they took what had to be the most convoluted path possible through the tables. She wondered if that had been on purpose, so everyone could get a good gander at the mayor’s new stepdaughter. After all, the place seemed unusually packed for a Thursday night.

Then Kim ducked them through an archway and paused outside a curtained-off door. “Here you are, Miss Matthews.”

“Lauren.”

Kim beamed. “Lauren. It’s a pleasure. Stephan will be here shortly to take your order. You have a great night.”

“Thank you,” she said, half wishing she could just stand out here and chat with Kim some more. Kim was an easy crowd to please. But the hostess bustled off—with a cheery wave of course—and Lauren turned toward the closed curtain. Another deep breath. After a six-month delay, it was suddenly showtime.

As soon as she ducked through the curtain, letting it fall shut again behind her, her mother immediately got up and came around the table, engulfing her daughter in a hug. “Lauren, I’m so glad you came, sweetheart. I’ve missed you so much.”

Lauren’s face was smooshed into her mother’s soft silver hair, so she couldn’t respond and couldn’t get a look at Arlen, but it felt so good, after so much time, and so much emotion and heartache, to be hugged by her mom that she simply hugged her back.

It was long moments later before Charlene finally set her back, but such a load had already been lifted from her shoulders with that one, heartfelt hug that Lauren felt a rejuvenation of hope that maybe this could all turn out far, far better than she’d allowed herself to dream.

Lauren pushed her own hair from her face and blinked back the tears threatening to form. “I am, too,” she said. Could it really be this simple? Guilt swamped her. She should have made the trip out sooner, carved the time into her schedule, her life, and not waited until it had become this cataclysmic. They’d just needed to see each other in order to regain perspective and get their priorities back in place. Their bond had always been so strong, it could weather anything. She should have never let it get this bad.

Then Arlen stepped into view behind her mother, and Lauren’s stomach squeezed right back into a tight ball. She’d been so overwhelmed and happy to be reunited with her mother, she’d neglected to remember that the actual reason behind their estrangement had yet to be dealt with.

His face was a bit paunchier than the photos she’d found during her investigative forays, and his hair a bit thinner, but otherwise there was no mistaking that this was the mayor of Cedar Springs. There was also no mistaking that this was a man who oozed a particular brand of God-given charisma and natural charm. The kind that allowed him to work a room, shake hands, kiss babies, and shoot the bull with just about anyone, all without actually uttering a truly sincere word. Sort of like a really sharp used-car salesman. Or a snake-oil salesman.

And, for the life of her, she hadn’t a clue what her mother saw in him.

The woman who’d raised her would never have fallen for that kind of skin-deep magnetism. She could spot a phony a mile away. Ten miles. In fact, it was partly her ability to read a person within five seconds of meeting them that had made her such a successful and popular hostess. No one could seat a room as well as Charlene Matthews. It was a special skill but was largely responsible for the success of whatever event she was helping to sponsor. And you couldn’t do that if you didn’t have a knack for instantly knowing who and what you were dealing with.

But, Lauren thought, struggling mightily—oh so mightily—to scrape together at least a modicum of objectivity, perhaps there were hidden charms to be found that his more obvious character flaws hid from plain sight. She’d do best to sit back and watch her mother interact with him and see if perhaps it all explained itself.

But to do that, she had to get the party started. To that end, she mustered up the fake sincere smile that her years on the political party circuit had honed to perfection and turned to face him. “Hello,” she said, deciding to take the upper hand. It remained to be seen how long she held it. “I’m Lauren.” She put her hand out to avoid any potential awkward attempt at hugging, as well as to establish that while she was going to be polite, she wasn’t going to be insincere and say she was happy to meet him. Best to be as up front as possible with the man, no matter what her mother might be hoping for.

“Arlen,” he said, thankfully dispensing with any formal or titular introductions.

Neither of which would have surprised her after reading a few of his speeches. In fact, when he stepped closer to take her offered hand, she duly noted the automatic “kissing babies stump speeching” smile she was certain came as easily to him as breathing, but was surprised to also notice that he appeared almost a little nervous. There was a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead even though the temperature in the room was quite moderate. Could he really be so worried about whether or not his wife’s new daughter gave them her blessing? From what she’d gleaned about the man, that wouldn’t likely be the case. So…why the telltale flopsweat?

“It’s a true pleasure to finally be making your acquaintance,” he said, still sounding like he was stumping for votes. Some politicians were like that, she’d learned, adopting a fixed-smile social persona that they became so entrenched in, they found themselves unable to flip the switch to truly sincere when the moment—and the company—dictated it. Like, you know…with family.

Others, like Senator Fordham, were comfortable and easily and sincerely themselves in any circumstance, private and social. A shame Arlen didn’t fall into her former boss’s category. But then, if he had, she’d have understood more why her mother had fallen for the man and they wouldn’t be having this awkward dinner meeting in the first place.

“Please, have a seat,” he added, all fixed smile and perfect, dentist-enhanced teeth. And…nervous. Up close it was even more obvious. “I hope you don’t mind the private room; I thought you and your mother would appreciate the privacy. I—”

“We do,” she said, feeling oddly compelled to put him at ease. It threw her off a little, his slight lack of composure. She’d been certain he would ooze the same rather smarmy charm she’d noted in the few taped speeches she’d been able to scrounge up during her search. And the smarmy charm was definitely there on the surface; his plastered-on enthusiasm hadn’t changed a flicker since she’d entered the room, but the underlying nerves didn’t seem to match up right.

She wanted to believe it was just about a man wanting to please his new wife. But he hadn’t so much as glanced at her since Lauren had entered the room, much less shown any kind of united front by standing next to her. Which left the other, less flattering, but far more plausible option, given what she knew. That his nerves stemmed from him wanting to make a good impression on her for personal reasons. In her case, she could only surmise that would be because of her connections to the power players in Washington. Though what good he thought that would do him as mayor of a small Colorado mountain town, she had no idea.

“Why don’t we all have a seat.” Her mother, ever the hostess, directed them to the table with a smile. “The wine steward should be here with our request momentarily. I hope you don’t mind, Lauren, dear, but we ordered a lovely bottle of pinot noir, grown locally, in fact. We’ll be more than happy to get something else—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lauren said, allowing the mayor to pull her seat back for her before he rounded the table and did the same for his wife. She sat catty-corner to her mother and directly across from the mayor. She watched them, curious to see any byplay between them, anything to help her understand the magnetism that supposedly existed. But there were no little touches, no private glances, no silent communication. In fact, they seemed to just be going through the motions, not exactly strained, but each of them definitely seemed lost in their own thoughts. “I, uh, didn’t know they grew grapes at this altitude.”

“Well, it’s not Napa Valley,” Arlen responded jovially, “but we’re pretty proud of what our great state produces.”

“You’re originally from California, right?”

“Yes,” Arlen said, and seemed quite enthusiastic about being given the chance to endorse that little tidbit about himself. “San Francisco.”

Lauren kept her own “circuit smile” on steady display. “Then I suppose you’d probably know a little something about those Napa wines, so I’m impressed you think so highly of the local wines here. I’m looking forward to trying it.”

“I assure you, you won’t be disappointed.”

Small talk momentarily exhausted, when the silence went on for a beat too long, Lauren’s mother reached for her menu, prompting them to do the same.

It was cowardly, she knew, to hide behind the oversized, faux-leather folder, but it gave her a much-needed moment to regroup and reorganize her thoughts without Arlen staring her down. Well, maybe stare was too excessive a description, but he’d kept his focus fairly intently on her since she’d entered the room. Even when he’d seated her mother, his attention had been on Lauren. It wasn’t exactly creepy or anything, but it wasn’t comfortable, either.

Lauren surreptitiously took peeks at both her mother and Arlen as they perused their menus. For all she knew, they ate here all the time and knew the course offerings by heart. But they both seemed pretty intent on examining every entrée. And not once, that she had noticed anyway, had they so much as glanced at one another.

Could it be, Lauren wondered, that perhaps her mother had already come to the same realization that her East Coast friends and Lauren had come to about five seconds after she’d announced her elopement? If so, Lauren would be profoundly relieved and grateful to have the mother she knew and loved back to her normal sane, rational self. But she also was well aware that Charlene was a proud woman who’d been raised to do well in anything she attempted—a goal she’d pretty much always succeeded in achieving—so would likely be embarrassed by this rather public and personal failing. Lauren vowed right then she would approach the subject delicately and with compassion.

She glanced at her mother, wishing again that she could have spent some time with her alone first, rather than this somewhat stilted, best-behavior, social call. The private room was nice, but only went so far. She couldn’t ask her mother the things she was most dying to know, which was how in the worldwide hell, with all the distinguished and lovely gentlemen who had orbited her very active social circles since Lauren’s father had passed away—and there had been no small number who would have given anything for even a personal smile from Charlene Matthews—had she ever, even in a weak moment, chosen this one?

Okay, maybe she needed to work on the delicate part of her approach. But even if her mother had realized her impulsive union was a mistake, Lauren was still curious why she’d been compelled to be so impulsive in the first place.

She thought perhaps she could catch the corner of her mother’s eye and silently mouth something to her—about seeing her later, in private. But her mother had set her menu aside and was busy spreading her linen napkin neatly in her lap, her faultless southern Virginia manners as natural a part of her as her relentlessly graceful charm.

When the silence continued after they’d all set aside their menus, Lauren cleared her throat and said, “Cedar Springs is lovely.”

Her mother’s eyes sparkled at the comment. “Isn’t it, though? Just like a page out of a magazine.”

“Jewel of the Rockies,” Arlen said, sounding less uncertain of himself now. Of course, that was because he sounded like a campaign poster. Which as mayor, was, generally speaking, his job.

Now that Lauren suspected he wasn’t going to be in her or her mother’s orbit much longer, it was easier to simply take him with a grain of salt and not be as tense or stressed over every single sentence.

“It’s taken a good part of my time in office,” he went on, “but we’ve managed to turn this town into a destination resort that rivals—and if you ask me, outdoes—its more glitzier counterparts to the south. Telluride might have its little film festival, and Aspen and Vail their constant stream of movie starlets, but Cedar Springs is a town that can embrace the worldwide adventure seeker, and still offer home and hearth to those residents who plan to live out their life in our little mountain paradise. It’s becoming a generational town, where family names still mean something, and small town values remain high on our priority list, despite our reputation as a place that easily meets the needs of our most worldly and cosmopolitan travelers. From a five star resort, to award-winning restaurants, it really is—”

“The jewel of the Rockies,” Lauren finished with him, wondering how often he’d given that exact speech. “I can see why.” She turned her attention to him more personally, a pleasant smile on her face. In fact, she was feeling almost generous with the guy now. It was even a bit tempting to let him believe he’d won her over with his chamber of commerce, tourism board ad campaign, but given the amount of rhetoric she’d heard in her career, it would have taken a much better actress than her to pull that off. Besides, even her goodwill had its limits. Which was made, perhaps more clear than she intended, when, instead, she said, “I will admit though, I hadn’t expected my arrival to be so…conspicuous.”

“I’m sorry about that, sweetheart,” her mother broke in to say. “It’s just, with Arlen being the mayor, and my excitement over your visit, word spreads in a little town like this. Please don’t feel pressured by it; everyone is excited to meet you, as well.”

Lauren smiled at her mother and wished like hell the two of them were anywhere but here right now. This all felt so…staged. And she was pretty sure her mother was feeling the same way. But her manners would never allow her to tear away the veil of social propriety. And Lauren wouldn’t put her in that kind of awkward position by doing it herself. At least, not blatantly anyway.

But at least she could look forward now to spending some time alone with her mother. The two of them could figure out how best to handle the next step so that her mother could extricate herself and return to her previous life with as little fallout as possible. Which…was going to call on every bit of campaign strategy Lauren had learned in her years in Washington, and then some.

She glanced back at Arlen to find him steadily regarding her. It caught her off guard, and he immediately glanced down and spread his linen napkin on his lap, but it was still a little unnerving. She told herself he was simply feeling the awkward tension in the room and had been trying to read her, figure out what would work. Politicians and businessmen did it all the time as they met with constituents, clients, and those who might be able to help them achieve their goals. She wondered if Arlen was good at reading people, or just thought he was good at it. She’d met both types. She hadn’t learned enough about him to know, but his business successes would indicate he was pretty decently skilled. It was something to keep in mind. To not underestimate him. Especially if her mother was planning to ask for a divorce.

He had a whole town behind him. Her mother was an O’Grady and a Matthews, and back home both carried significant weight. But Lauren was well aware that her mother would want to preserve both her good name and her standing, at all costs. Pride and dignity being paramount in her world. So, if Arlen wanted to play dirty, he could easily have the upper hand.

Worth keeping in mind, in terms of staying on his good side. At least, for now.

Lauren picked up her menu again just as her mother said, “We’re so sorry we couldn’t meet you in Holden. Jake was very kind to do us the favor, but I understand the storm earlier kept him from flying you in.”

“It did, but we made it in just fine.” Lauren was careful to keep looking at her menu. Her mother had an almost supernatural ability to look at her daughter’s face and know what she was thinking. Or, at least, who she was thinking about. There was more than enough tension swirling in the room already. And that was what they’d come here to figure out. Lauren didn’t want to give her any excuse for a distraction, particularly when she wasn’t sure how she felt about the distraction yet, herself. It was definitely way too early, on all fronts, to mention just how much she’d enjoyed Jake’s company. Much less that she planned on enjoying it again. She assumed that word might get around after their little flight on Sunday, but certainly by then she and her mother would have a battle plan in place. And, considering Lauren wasn’t all that certain she’d need to be here much longer than that, it wouldn’t really matter at that point. “How do you all know Jake?” she asked casually. Better to know up front what the connection was. “Or is it that everyone knows everyone here?”

“Well, that much is certainly true,” her mother said, “but, as it happens, Jake’s sister, Ruby Jean, is Arlen’s personal administrative assistant. Sort of like the job you have with Senator Fordham,” she added with a proud smile. “Just on a somewhat smaller scale.”

“Careful, dear,” Arlen said with a chuckle. “You know we men don’t like to have our egos—I mean, careers—sized.”

He patted her mother’s hand, which caused a totally inappropriate, almost visceral protective reaction in Lauren, which had her staring really hard at the menu rather than using it to swat his hands off her mother.

Who happens to be his wife, she reminded herself, which should have been totally unnecessary. Of course, she’d already come to the conclusion, given their behavior so far, that there wouldn’t be any endearments or little touches, so it had just caught her off guard was all. Certainly, given they were trying to mend fences first, they’d want to keep up appearances in front of her. Although neither of them had been trying too awfully hard. She just needed to be better prepared to witness it, that was all. Once she’d had the chance to sit down with her mother and get this fiasco all out into the open, all the charade playing could finally come to an end. Which made her wonder…were both her mother and Arlen playing charades? Had Arlen also come to realize the depth of the mismatch?

That set Lauren off on an entirely new tangent of internal questioning. Lovely.

She’d just have to watch a bit more intently, then see if she could figure out the lay of the land. Her mother had smiled at his little joke, but then they both had gone back to their menus. Charlene had never once, to Lauren’s knowledge, had any patience for men with practiced, well-rehearsed viewpoints. Pompous poseurs, she’d called them. Her mother responded to passionate defense of beliefs and a person knowing his or herself well enough to stand behind them and defend them well if called upon to do so.

Somehow, after listening to Arlen’s chamber of commerce speech a few minutes ago, Lauren couldn’t really fathom him giving an impassioned, original defense of…anything. He might be a practiced orator, but Lauren would bet money the words he delivered the best were generally written by somebody else.

Lauren glanced at her mother again and found her thoughts going back to how they’d ever become a match in the first place. Under what set of conditions would her mother have ever fallen for this guy? Lauren couldn’t come up with any. Which led her to wonder again if, perhaps, there really was something wrong with her. She seemed perfectly fine, sharp, gracious, and on point as she’d always been, but perhaps there was something else going on beneath the surface. Not that Lauren wished her mother ill health over simple poor judgment, but there had to be something that would explain this…aberration. Something that Lauren was obviously missing.

She stared sightlessly at her menu and tried very hard to be objective. Daphne, one of her former coworkers, and the only one she considered a close friend, had said in response to Lauren’s venting about all of it that perhaps her feelings about Arlen were just totally off base and skewed by her dissatisfaction with her own life. And that maybe she should trust her mother, who’d always shown good judgment, the same way Lauren expected that of her mother when Lauren had dated various men on the Hill.

Except Lauren hadn’t eloped and moved across the country with any of them.

And she’d fixed her dissatisfaction with her life. Well, she’d taken the first step, anyway. And that hadn’t changed her feelings about the elopement. She really didn’t think that had anything to do with this.

The wine steward came in just then, followed by Stephan, their waiter, giving a much-needed break to the growing silence in the small room.

After Arlen pronounced the pinot noir palatable, everyone placed their orders, or should she say that she placed her order, and Arlen placed the order for both him and her mother. Even though Lauren hadn’t seen him consult with her at all on any part of their order. Her mother was a connoisseur of good food and was known for her very discerning palate. Her menus were always discussed after any event and considered both classic and adventurous, mostly in terms of the combinations she would so cleverly decide upon. So…it was just odd to see her hand over the choice of what she was going to eat to someone else. But then, as Lauren had noted earlier, perhaps they came here all the time and their choices were already well established.

She looked to Stephan, the waiter, to see if there was any acknowledgment on his part of the First Couple being regulars of the establishment. But he didn’t seem to treat them any differently than he treated her.

And Lauren knew her mother’s expressions about as well as Charlene could read her daughter’s, and Lauren didn’t spy any dissatisfaction with the direction the evening was taking, overtly or subtly.

It was all so confusing, really. Possibly she was just over-thinking all of it, examining the details too closely, analyzing aspects that simply didn’t require such close scrutiny. Okay, probably. But that still left her with more questions than answers.

They all handed their menus to Stephan, who slipped out as silently as he’d slipped in, taking her one remaining shield away with him.

Forced to make direct eye contact, Lauren chose her mother. “So, how did the charity luncheon go today?” Small talk. She hadn’t seen her mother in six months, and she was making small talk. It was pathetic, and made her more than a little sad, but she felt really out to sea here, so, like her mother, she clung to societal convention like the life raft it was. At least until she felt she had a better handle on the real situation between her mother and Arlen.

“It went well, but ran quite long.” Her mother smiled, clearly using the life raft, as well.

“What was the charity?” Lauren asked, fiddling with her napkin, smoothing the wrinkles flat.

And so the conversation went, stilted and staggered and so incredibly not how she thought it might go after that initial hug. She blamed it all on Arlen, or perhaps her mother’s discomfort in knowing how to act around him. She still felt certain that she and her mother were on the right track, but she’d have paid large sums to have an emergency announced in the kitchen right around then that would force the restaurant to close early. A little dramatic, perhaps, but that’s how she was feeling at the moment. Finally, Stephan—bless his heart—returned with their food. Which was probably delicious, but she couldn’t remember a single bite of it. Mostly it had given her something to do. And do it, she did. She carefully cut and consumed that lasagna like it was her damn job. She listened as Arlen talked on about the town’s accomplishments and future hopes, and her mother chimed in to talk about this person or that, trying to personalize Arlen’s monologue, as if Lauren would be interested in minor details of the lives of complete strangers. But then, it struck her that the irony was, the people sitting across from her were complete strangers, so what difference did it make?

Dinner finally dwindled to an end, their meals finished, leaving Lauren to desperately wish she could claim some other engagement and take off. But she’d just arrived in town. Expressly to see her mother and meet Arlen. So, what else could she possibly have to do?

Jake’s sexy, smiling face floated through her mind.

She floated it right back out again as Stephan returned to clear dishes and ask after coffee and dessert. Lauren had the strongest urge to wrap her arms around his waist and beg him to stay. Or take her with him. Thankfully, dessert was unanimously declined and coffee was ordered. How long could it take to sip a cup of coffee, then beg off with claims of an altitude headache or jet lag? Neither of which were true, but neither her mother nor Arlen, who were both searching for topics of discussion themselves, seemed all that intent on prolonging the agony, either.

The other irony was that there was so much she wanted to say, wanted to ask. But, instead they were stuck in some kind of horrific provincial play, acting out parts none of them felt comfortable playing, rather than just putting it all out there on the table. It was on the tip of her tongue to simply say it, dive in, but something held her back. Maybe it was the way she’d continued to catch Arlen kind of staring at her during dinner. Nothing overtly creepy or anything, just that…staring thing he did. He’d smile when she caught him, or look away and pretend he hadn’t been staring at all. She supposed it wasn’t weird, him wanting to get a look at the one person who possibly stood between him and a potentially happy marriage. Or! A satisfactory divorce. Ooh, maybe that was it! It made more sense than anything else. Her mother had probably let it slip that Lauren was also an attorney, though not a practicing one, but still…perhaps it wasn’t her political contacts he wanted, but her legal expertise that he was trying to avoid.

So many questions, but with that one thought, she knew there was no way she could force the conversation now. It would never be in her mother’s best interests for them both to be blindsided with that kind of conversational gambit.

“Lauren, dear, are you okay?”

She realized she was balling up her napkin in her lap and carefully laid it on the table beside her water glass. “You know, with the flight and the storm and all, it’s been a really long day. It might just be the altitude change, but I think the day is catching up with me.”

Her mother looked sincerely concerned, and suddenly Lauren was fighting tears in her eyes because she was sincerely concerned, too, and she wanted nothing more than for them to move forward and get to the heart of things. She wasn’t sure what moving down that path would entail, but they’d figure it out as they went along. She pushed her chair back and used the moment to will her tears to remain at bay. Her mother and Arlen both stood.

“I’m glad you came out to meet us,” her mother said sincerely, but more cautiously now. As if she, too, was disappointed in how the evening had gone.

Lauren wondered what her mother’s hopes had been for tonight. And what she was thinking and feeling now.

“I had a few things planned,” she went on, “just casually, nothing written in stone, that I thought we could do together while you were here.”

Lauren wanted to ask if “we” constituted only her and her mother, or all three of them, but it was beyond her at that point to figure out how to do so without seeming rude. “Okay. That sounds good. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Her mom came around the corner of the table to hug her, and Lauren knew it would be her only chance to speak just to her mother. When she was enveloped in a tight hug, she whispered into her mother’s ear. “I need to talk to you. Just you. Okay?”

Her mother paused in the way she was squeezing her daughter, but in no other way indicated that Lauren had said anything to her. She finally straightened and stepped back, but slid her hands down until she could join them with Lauren’s. “We’ll talk tomorrow after you’ve had a good night’s rest.” She was smiling brightly—too brightly?—but didn’t say anything further.

“Sounds good.” Lauren squeezed her mother’s hands, then let them go and turned to Arlen. “Thank you for dinner. It was very good.” She knew she should say it was a pleasure to meet him, but somehow the words just refused to come out.

Thankfully, mercifully, Stephan came once again to her rescue, arriving with the tray of coffee.

“I can find my way back,” she said, stepping to the curtain as he set the tray beside the table. “Please, enjoy your coffee. I’ll call you tomorrow, Mom. Or, better yet, call me when it’s best for you.” Which, she hoped her mother had figured out, would be whenever Arlen wasn’t within hearing distance.

And, with that, while Stephan was dispensing mugs, creamer, and wielding the pot, Lauren fled.

“Well. That was fun,” she muttered under her breath, after faking a smile at still-perky Kim and pushing through the doors into the chilly evening air. “Not.”

“Not what?”

She stifled a squeal, but still pressed a hand to her suddenly thumping heart as she turned around to find Jake standing right behind her.

“Need a lift?”

“I—haven’t you’ve rescued me enough for one day?” she said, mustering a half laugh from somewhere.

He stepped closer until she could see his face more clearly in the light of the streetlamp positioned in front of the restaurant doors. Apparently, that allowed him to see her face more clearly, too, because he said, “I’m guessing it’s rare you ever really need rescuing, but you do seem a bit…flustered.”

“What gave me away?”

“Nothing, really. You just pushed through the doors like the hounds of hell were after you.” His lips curved. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have guessed a thing.”

“What are you doing here?” She was smiling, but the words still came out a tad more edgy than intended, but she was kind of at the end of her emotional rope, and maybe there was some jet lag, and altitude lag, and just overall life lag, affecting her as well. She wanted to make a better impression on him, she really did, but it would help if he’d stop catching her at her worst. At least she didn’t have helmet hair or raccoon eyes and posttraumatic flight shock, but still.

“I live here,” he said mildly, still friendly, if not quite as amused as before.

“I mean, here, here.”

“I…like to eat,” he said with a shrug. “Sometimes more than once a day. I haven’t had anything since we stopped for snacks earlier today in Kremmling.”

She ducked her chin and blew out a breath. He didn’t have to work hard to catch her at her worst, because, apparently, that’s all she was offering today. “I’m sorry.” She looked up, forced a smile. “You’d never guess, but I can be quite charming when I put my mind to it.”

“I thought you were quite charming in all your pink cycling gear this afternoon.”

Her smile relaxed a little as her cheeks warmed a bit. He had a habit of doing that to her, too. And she’d thought seven years of working on the Hill would have put her beyond blushing. Apparently not. But then, she’d never had such a sincere sounding compliment, delivered in such a deep voice, by a guy who made her pulse pound just thinking about him. “Thank you. Then, please,” she bowed slightly, “remember me as I was.”

He waited until she straightened, then looked her up and down, and suddenly her fatigue wasn’t quite as bone-deadening as it had been a mere moment ago.

“You look pretty good in navy pinstripe, too, as it turns out.” He leaned closer and dropped that deep, sexy voice to a rough whisper, which…wow. “Although, I should tell you, I think they outlawed pinstripes in Cedar Springs right after the town charter was signed. Probably no one told you because, being related to the mayor and all, they didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

She couldn’t help it; she laughed. Something she couldn’t have imagined feeling like doing when she’d exited those doors. “Well, I appreciate your being bold and daring enough to brave the potential wrath of your town leader.”

“It’s not Arlen I’m afraid of.”

“Oh?”

“It’s your mother.”

Surprised, she said, “My mother? Why?”

“I’ve learned, never come between a mama and her cub.”

“I’m hardly a cub.”

He smiled and reached out to catch a strand of hair that had caught across her face in the evening breeze. He untangled it and smoothed it away, but his hand lingered. “Where mothers are concerned, you’re always the cub.”

Her smile softened, as did a little spot inside her chest. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Tears threatened to spring forth again, and at the same time, she fought a sudden, ferocious need to yawn. Relaxing, even a little bit, had demolished whatever reserve of energy she’d had left. “Well, this cub apparently needs to head back to the den for some sleep.”

“I’ll be happy to drop you off. My truck is just down the street.”

“It’s not that far. I thought I’d walk.” She wanted the time, the night air, the activity, before she ended up in bed, alone, with nothing more than her thoughts and several full-length, mental, frame-by-frame replays of tonight’s dinner to occupy her. If she was lucky, walking the few blocks back to her motel would both give her a chance to do an initial postgame review and drain whatever was left in the tank at the same time, allowing her to drop right off as soon as her head hit the pillow.

“Care for some company, then?”

Then again, maybe a little distraction would be even better.

She smiled. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

He crooked an elbow, and she slid her arm through. She smiled, he smiled back, and the silence was easy and companionable, with just the hint of combustibility below the surface. It was…perfect. A little, but not too much. And exactly what she needed.

So much so, that she didn’t even hear the restaurant door swing open behind her. Or feel Arlen Thompson staring at her back, frowning at the sight of the newest member of his family arm in arm with one of the older thorns in his side. He’d thought hiring his kid sister would make the guy a bit more amenable to throwing his family’s name behind the plans he had for this town. He’d guessed wrong. When Charlene stepped out behind him, he turned, blocking the couple from view, and hustled her to the car parked a few feet away, thinking hard, thinking fast, about how he could make this latest ripple work to his advantage.

Maybe the night hadn’t been a complete bust after all.