Читать книгу The Cook's Secret Ingredient - Meg Maxwell - Страница 10
ОглавлениеCarson stood by the open window in his father’s family room, watching his dad and Danny in the backyard. Fifty-four-year-old Edmund Ford held the toddler in his arms and was pointing out two squirrels chasing each other up and down the huge oak. Carson smiled at the sight of his son laughing so hard.
“Let’s pretend we’re squirrels and chase each other around the yard,” Edmund said, setting Danny down. “You can’t catch me!” he added, running ahead at a toddler’s pace, which couldn’t be easy for the six-two man.
“Catch!” Danny yelled, giggling.
Edmund let his back leg linger for a moment until Danny latched on. “You got me! You’re the fastest squirrel in his yard.”
“Me!” Danny shouted, racing around with his hands up.
Edmund scooped him up and put him on his shoulders, and they headed over to the oak again. Danny pointed at the squirrels sitting on a branch and nibbling acorns. Carson could hear his dad telling Danny that the squirrels were a grandpa and grandson, just like them.
Who was this man and what had he done with Carson’s father? Carson’s earliest memories involved watching his father leave the house, his father’s empty chair and place setting at the dinner table, his father not making it to birthday parties or graduations or special events. He’d been a workaholic banker and nothing had been more important than “the office.” Not Carson, not his mother, not even his mother’s terminal diagnosis of cancer five years ago, leaving them just four months with her. But then came the moment she’d drawn her last breath, and Edmund Ford had been shaken.
I didn’t tell her I loved her this morning, his father had said that day they’d lost her, his face contorted with grief and regret. I always thought there was later, another day. I didn’t tell her I loved her today.
Tears had stung Carson’s eyes and he gripped his father in a hug. She knew anyway, Dad, he’d said. She always knew.
Which was true. Every time Edmund Ford disappointed them, his mother would say, Your father loves us very much. We’re his world. Never doubt that, no matter what.
Carson had grown up doubting that. But since his mother died, his father had changed into someone Carson barely recognized. Edmund Ford had started calling to check in a few times a week. He’d drop by Carson’s office for an impromptu lunch. He’d get tickets to the Rangers or the rodeo. But instead of Carson’s old longing for his dad to be present in his life, Carson had felt...uncomfortable. He barely knew his father, and this new guy was someone Carson didn’t know at all. Suddenly it was Carson putting up the wall, putting up the boundaries.
Then Danny was born, and Edmund had become grandfather of the year. The man insisted on weekly family dinners with Carson and Danny, making a fuss over every baby tooth that sprouted up, new words, a quarter inch of height marked on the wall. And yes, Carson was glad his son had a loving grandfather in his life. But Carson couldn’t seem to reconcile it with the man he’d known his entire life.
The first week of Danny’s life, when his now ex-wife, Jodie, had still been around, they’d both been shocked when Edmund Ford had come to the hospital’s neonatal intensive care unit every single day, to sit beside his bassinet and read Dr. Seuss to him, sing an old ranch tune, demand information from the doctors in his imperious tone.
“Grandparenting is different from being a parent,” Jodie would say with a shrug when Carson expressed his shock over his dad’s suddenly interest in family.
She must have been right because by the end of Danny’s first week, she was gone, with apologies and “you knew I was like this when you married me,” and his father was there. And everything that seemed normal about the world had shifted.
His father’s housekeeper and cook, Leanna, came into the room and smiled at Carson, then walked over to the screen door to the yard. “Danny, want to help me make dessert?”
“Ooh!” Danny said. His grandfather set him down and he came running in.
The sixtysomething woman, with her signature braided bun, scooped up Danny and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Carson loved how much sweet attention his son got at his grandfather’s house. “Twenty minutes ’til dinner,” Leanna called out before heading through the French doors with Danny.
Carson glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the room. If he craned his neck he could just make out the circular driveway in front of the mansion. No car, other than his own. He wondered if Olivia Mack would show up or not. Probably not.
“I could cancel my health club membership with all the exercise I get from playing with Danny,” Edmund said as he came inside. He took a long sip from his water bottle, then sat down in a club chair and pulled a small notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Oh, Carson, I won’t be around tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be on the road, checking out four potential hair salons for my Sarah.”
Enough was enough. “Dad—”
Edmund held up a palm. “Well, it’s what I have to do since my own son, a private investigator, won’t do his job and help me find the person I’m looking for.”
Carson crossed his arms over his chest. And sighed. “The person you’re looking for doesn’t exist, Dad.”
Edmund shook his head. “We’ve been over this. I’m done arguing with you. I’m just telling you I won’t be around tomorrow in case Danny wanted to see the more fun Ford man in his life.”
His father was the fun one. Unbelievable. He shook his head, staring at his dad as though the concentration would help him come up with a way to reach the man, get to him to see how foolish and fruitless this quest was. And how potentially damaging. Edmund Ford was a handsome man, tall and fit, with thick salt-and-pepper hair adding to his distinguished appearance. And he was very, very wealthy. This Sarah, if he found someone who fit the bill, would latch on to him fast enough to get her hands on his bank account, then take off. She’d probably get herself pregnant, too, to keep the gravy train going for quite some time. Yes, Carson was that cynical.
The doorbell rang and Carson perked up. He glanced at the grandfather clock across the room. Not quite six thirty. Could it be the fortune-teller’s daughter? Had she come?
Lars, Leanna’s husband of thirty-two years and his father’s butler for the past five years, appeared in the doorway. “A Ms. Olivia Mack is here.” A short, portly man in his sixties, Lars always stood very straight in his formal uniform.
“Olivia Mack?” Edmund repeated. “Do I know an Olivia Mack? Is she selling something? I wouldn’t mind a couple boxes of those mint Girl Scout cookies.”
“I invited her,” Carson said. “Show her in, will you, Lars?”
Edmund stood and wiggled his eyebrows at Carson. “You invited her? Finally dating? You definitely need a woman in your life.”
“Not dating,” Carson said. “I’m busy with raising my son and working.”
Edmund rolled his eyes. “Your son is asleep fourteen hours a day. And you don’t work twenty-four hours. You have time for romance, Carson.”
Carson wasn’t having this discussion. Luckily, the French doors opened and Lars presented Olivia Mack.
Carson had only had a head-and-shoulders view of Olivia inside the food truck. He’d had no idea she was so tall and curvy. She wore a weird felt skirt with appliqués of flowers, a light blue sweater and yellow-brown cowboy boots. Her hair, which had been up in the food truck, now tumbled loosely down her shoulders in light brown waves. A ring, bearing a turquoise heart on her thumb, seemed to be her only jewelry. Did people wear rings on their thumbs? Fortune-tellers probably did.
Olivia glanced back as Lars shut the doors behind her. She turned to Carson and offered an uncomfortable smile.
“Dad,” Carson said, dragging his gaze off Olivia. “This is Olivia Mack, Miranda Mack’s daughter.”
Edmund Ford stepped toward Olivia. “Miranda Mack, Miranda Mack,” he repeated. “Is she a loyal customer at Texas Trust? I’m sorry but the name isn’t ringing a bell.”
“Her mother was Madam Miranda,” Carson said. He couldn’t help but notice Olivia’s eyes cloud over. She was obviously still grieving over the loss of her mother. Six weeks was nothing. It had taken Carson a good year before he got used to the fact that his mother was gone, that he would never see her again.
“Oh, of course!” Edmund said, hurrying over to Olivia and wrapping her in a hug. “I’m so sorry about your loss, dear. Your mother changed a lot of lives for the better. I understand that I was her very last client before...” He cleared his throat. “She told me the second great love of my life is out there waiting for me to find her. I intend to do just that.”
“Actually, that’s exactly why Olivia is here,” Carson said. “To tell you you’re wasting your time and energy.”
Edmund frowned and turned to Olivia. “Is that right? Is that why you’re here?”
Olivia bit her lip and looked from Edmund to Carson and back to Edmund. “Mr. Ford—”
“Please call me Edmund.”
“Edmund,” she began, “my mother’s gift worked in mysterious ways. That’s all I know,” she added, glancing at Carson.
He grimaced at his son. “Carson begged you to come and tell me I’m wasting my time and energy on a wild-goose chase? Offered you a pile of money to make me see reason?”
“Well, he did, but I didn’t accept,” Olivia said. “He did also express how worried he is that you might be chasing after a fantasy that doesn’t exist. I can understand that. I suppose that’s why I’m here. To tell both of you that I don’t understand how my mother’s abilities worked. I do know that she brought together hundreds of couples. I also know there were times her predictions did not work out.”
“Well,” Edmund said, “I believed in her.”
Carson caught Olivia’s expression soften at that.
“Carson mentioned that you’ve been looking for the woman she told you about,” Olivia prompted.
“No luck so far,” Edmund said. “I’ve called around to a bunch of hair salons in the area, but most folks who answered the phone thought I was some nut and hung up on me. I visited several over the past two weeks, asking for a ‘Sarah who I heard was a great hairstylist,’ but most of the time, no Sarahs. The four times there was a Sarah, she didn’t have green eyes.” He let out a breath. “I guess this does sound kind of silly.”
“Romantic, though,” Olivia said on practically a whisper.
Carson frowned at her.
“I think so, too, young lady,” Edmund said, the gray cloud gone from his expression. “And I may be fifty-four, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a whiz with technology.” He pulled out his smartphone. “I’ve got a map of every hair salon in the county with digital pushpins of ones I’ve visited.” He held it up. “If there’s no green-eyed Sarah, I’ve marked it red. I’ve got nineteen salons to visit tomorrow in two counties.”
Carson rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What about the fund-raiser you’re supposed to speak at tomorrow? What about the board meeting to prepare for?”
“Carson, I’m your father. Not the other way around.”
“Dad, I—”
“Dinner is served,” Leanna sang from the doorway with Danny in her arms. “Danny helped make dessert.”
“Ert!” Danny called out.
“Dessert monster!” Edmund said, rushing over and tickling him and carrying him over his shoulder. Danny squealed with laughter.
This ridiculous quest to find this nonexistent green-eyed hairstylist was just another example of how much his father had changed, especially since Danny was born. For Danny’s sake, Carson liked the devoted, fun grandpa his formerly workaholic, bank-before-family father had become. But this silly search to find a gold digger masquerading as a predicted great love? No. Not on Carson’s watch.
He had about forty-five minutes to shift this conversation back his way. And Olivia Mack was his only hope of stopping his father from ruining his life.
* * *
In the biggest dining room that Olivia had ever been in, she sat across the huge cherrywood table from Carson. At the head sat Edmund Ford with little Danny in a high chair beside him. Watching grandfather and grandson did a lot to ease the tension that had settled in Olivia’s shoulders ever since she’d arrived. Edmund clearly adored the toddler, and baby talk—Who ate all his chi-chi? My widdle cuddlebomb did, that’s who! C’mre for your cuddlebomb!—was not beneath the revered banker. Olivia hadn’t known what to expect from Edmund Ford, but this warm, welcoming man was not it.
The three generations of Fords looked quite alike with their dark thick hair, though Edmund’s was shot through with a distinguished silver. The three shared the same intense hazel-green eyes.
“Edmund, how did you happen to become a client of my mother’s?” Olivia asked. She smiled up at Leanna, who walked around with a serving platter of roasted potatoes. As the woman put a helping on Olivia’s plate, she wondered what it would be like to live like this every day. Maids and butlers and a family room the size of the entire first floor of Olivia’s house.
“When I moved to Blue Gulch four years ago, a year after my wife passed,” Edmund said, “I would hear this and that about a Madam Miranda and didn’t give it a thought. To me, fortune-tellers were about crystal balls and telling people, for a fee, what they wanted to hear.”
“And you were right,” Carson said, fork midway to his mouth.
Edmund ignored that. “But then I overheard a few conversations that stayed with me,” he continued, taking a sip of his white wine. “A very intelligent young equity analyst at the bank was telling another employee that she went to see Madam Miranda about her previous job and whether she should dare quit without having another lined up first. Madam Miranda advised her to quit immediately because an old college friend who worked at Texas Trust would call about an opening there and she would apply, interview and be offered the job with a significant increase in pay. Oh, and she’d love working there. The analyst risked quite a bit by taking that advice. Three days later, an old college friend called. And the rest is history.”
Carson was doing that thing again where he rolled his eyes and shook his head. The double dismissive whammy.
“I would catch some stories like that,” Edmund said, “and I just sort of tucked them away, not having any interest in paying Madam Miranda a visit.”
“What changed your mind?” Olivia asked, taking a bite of the rosemary chicken. Mmm, that was good. So well seasoned. Olivia hadn’t had a meal she hadn’t cooked herself in a very long time.
“About two months ago, I overheard two young women talking in the coffee shop,” Edmund said. “I was waiting for my triple espresso, and I heard a woman say that Madam Miranda’s prediction for her had come true, that if she’d find the courage to break up with her no-good, no-account boyfriend, she’d find real love with a handsome architect whose first name started with the letter A.”
“Oh, come on,” Carson said, shaking his head.
Edmund kept his attention on Olivia. “The young woman went on to say she’d been dating the terrible boyfriend for two years but Madam Miranda’s prediction gave her something to hope for, even if it was silly and couldn’t possibly come true, despite being so specific. She dumped the guy, and three months later, she struck up a flirtation with a young man doing some work in the new wing of the hospital where she worked as a nurse. An architect named Andrew.”
Carson put down his wineglass. “Madam Miranda probably heard his firm would be working on the new hospital wing. She put the idea in the nurse’s head that she and this guy belonged together and voilà, instant interest when she might have otherwise ignored him.”
“Talk about far-fetched,” Edmund said to his son.
“I have a million of those stories,” Olivia said. “I’ve seen much of it firsthand. And my mother may have been a lot of things, but a liar or a cheat wasn’t among them.”
Carson put down his fork. “Right. So my father’s second great love is a stranger named Sarah standing in a hair salon giving some guy a buzz cut. Come on.”
“Why not?” Olivia asked. “Why isn’t that possible?”
Carson sighed. “Because it’s hocus-pocus. It’s nonsense. It’s make-believe. It gets people to pony up a pile of money for malarkey—and just like that nurse said, it gives hope where there’s none. It doesn’t mean a damned thing.”
“Watch your language,” Edmund said, covering Danny’s ears. The boy giggled.
“Larkey!” Danny shouted gleefully.
“How much did you pay the madam for this fantasy?” Carson asked his father. “Hundreds, no doubt, once she knew who you were.”
“I’ve told you at least three times that she refused to accept money from me,” Edmund said, taking a bite of his chicken. “She told me she thought my bittersweet story was deeply touching and that was payment enough.”
Olivia knew her mother often didn’t charge those who clearly couldn’t afford her services. But Edmund Ford was a zillionaire. His story really must have touched Miranda—or had her mother known that he was destined to become part of the family because of Aunt Sarah? Hmm.
“But,” Edmund continued, “considering that her fortune-telling parlor was inside her home, which was on the small side, a postage stamp, really, I left her a thousand dollars in cash anonymously. She deserved it.”
The head shaking was back. “Right, Dad. I’m sure that’s how she hooked, lined and sunk her wealthy clients, pretending to care, finding their pasts just so touching, and fully knowing they’d load up her mailbox with cash and gifts. Payment enough—ha.”
“Could you be more cynical?” Edmund said, once again covering little Danny’s ears and making the boy giggle.
“I’m not cynical, Dad. I’m realistic.”
“Who’s ready for desserty-werty?” Edmund said to Danny, kissing his soft little cheek. “I know I am!”
“Me!” Danny shouted.
Olivia glanced at Carson, who was brooding in his seat. She’d say for this round, each man had scored a point each. They both made sense.
Carson let out a breath and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
Edmund stood and lifted Danny out of his high chair and set him down. “Sweets, why don’t you go play with your toys for a few minutes until Mrs. Hilliard brings out dessert.”
The boy went running for his toy chest, surrounded by brightly colored bean bags and low bookshelves.
“Right after I overheard that young lady telling her friend about finding true love,” Edmund said, “I started having all these strange feelings.” He glanced at Carson. “About wanting that for myself. I loved your mother, Carson. Very much. The last eighteen months especially, I’ve found myself changing, becoming very family-oriented when I wasn’t before.”
Carson glanced out the window, but Olivia could tell he was listening.
“After five years as a widow,” Carson continued, “with a new appreciation for loved ones, I found myself longing to find love again. And so I made an appointment with Madam Miranda to see what she might say about my chances.”
Carson let out a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want you to find love again, Dad. I just don’t want you to go on some crazy wild-goose chase and end up getting hurt by a gold digger.”
“I know you care, Carson,” Edmund said, his tone reverent. “And I appreciate that you do. But I believed Madam Miranda. I consider myself a pretty good judge of character and that woman looked me in the eye with truth.”
It was like a hug. After Carson’s criticism of her mother, after her own years and years of trying to find some rational explanation for her mother’s abilities, to hear her last client say this with conviction in his voice was like the warm hug that Olivia had needed for six weeks. Her only other family member—Aunt Sarah, very likely Edmund Ford’s second great love—was somewhere out there, long out of hugging distance.
“Will you stay for dessert?” Edmund asked her.
She took another glance at Carson. The man was scowling. His plan to have her derail his father’s belief in her mother’s fortune hadn’t exactly worked.
“I’d better get going. Thank you for dinner,” she said. “I’m so glad we got to meet.”
“Well, rest assured that I will make good on your mother’s prediction for me,” Edmund said. “I will find my green-eyed, hair-cutting Sarah.” Olivia smiled and he took both her hands in his. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Olivia. I know how it feels to lose someone you love so deeply.”
What a dear man he was. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you out,” Carson said between gritted teeth.
“Bye, Danny,” Olivia said, smiling at the toddler.
“Bye!” Danny said with a smile and a wave and his grandfather joined him in his toy area.
As she and Carson walked through the marble foyer and out the front door, Olivia could tell Carson was waiting until they were outside to let her have it for not backing him up. She could feel the tension in him.
But all he said, while looking around the circular drive, was “Where is your car?”
“I walked, actually. My car is almost fifteen years old and might not have made it up the hill to the drive.”
He seemed surprised. “I’ll walk you home. Let me just tell my dad and Danny I’ll be gone for a while.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I insist,” he said.
Now he’d have a half hour to give her an earful about how she’d messed up the one thing he wanted.
* * *
“I suppose you feel like I got to eat that amazing rosemary chicken and roasted potatoes and perfectly timed asparagus for nothing,” Olivia said as they headed down the hill toward town.
Carson raised an eyebrow and glanced at her, struck again by how lovely she was. She had a delicate, fine-boned face and her long light brown hair framed it in waves. The cool breeze blew her sweater against her full breasts and he found himself sucking in a breath at how sexy she was. Flower-appliqué felt skirt and yellow cowboy boots and all. He realized he was staring at her and glanced ahead at the twinkling lights in the distance, where the shops and restaurants of Blue Gulch Street were just winding down. How could he be attracted to her?
“Meaning, I don’t think your dad will give up on the quest to find this woman,” Olivia said.
“Well, I appreciated that you came and were fair,” Carson said. “It’s not like you were necessarily on either our sides.” He felt her looking at him. “And I don’t think he’ll give up, either. I’ve tried for two weeks now, ever since he first mentioned it to me. You were my last hope.”
“Two weeks? My mom’s been gone for six, and I know their appointment was just days before she passed away.”
“He said he tucked the fortune away, let himself really think about it, and then decided he was ready to see if it was possible, if there really could be a second great love out there.”
“Carson?” she said, darting a glance at him. “Is the reason you’re so against his trying to find the woman because of your mother?”
“My mother died five years ago. I don’t begrudge my father love or companionship. It’s the fortune-telling aspect that I have problems with.”
“My mom tried to keep a list of all the marriages she was responsible for. Her last count was three hundred twelve.”
Please. “I don’t believe that.”
“You don’t believe much,” she said.
That wasn’t true. He believed in a lot. In his love for his son. In doing his job and helping bring criminals to justice by tracking them down for the police. In the way Olivia Mack’s big brown eyes drew him, making him unable to look away from her face.
Olivia looked past him toward the beautiful horse pasture. The thoroughbreds weren’t out tonight. “Did you grow up in that house?” she asked.
“No, I grew up in Oak Creek.” A town over, Oak Creek was the fancy cousin of Blue Gulch, filled with estate ranches and mansions. “My father sold the family house a year after my mother died. He said the memories were killing him and he needed a fresh start and had always liked Blue Gulch with its quaint mile-long downtown.”
“Ah,” she said. “That’s why I haven’t seen you around. I think just about everyone in town has been to the food truck in the two weeks it’s been open.”
“I meant to tell you—the shrimp po’boy was pretty darn good. I have no doubt that word of mouth will bring in business from the surrounding towns.”
She smiled. “Thanks. My mother’s business worked that way, too. Word of mouth brought in client after client, just as it did with your dad. Relative and friends came in from neighboring states, too, for a chance to meet with Madam Miranda.”
“So tell me how this supposedly works. Your mother had this magic ability to predict the future but it wasn’t passed down to you?”
“According to my mother, all the women on her side of the family have a gift,” she practically mumbled.
“What number am I thinking of?” he asked.
She smiled. “I have no idea.”
“So what is your gift?” he asked.
“That’s a lovely tree,” she said, eyeing the weeping willow at the edge of the Ford property. She clearly didn’t want to talk about this.
He leaned toward her. “You can read minds. You can move objects with your eyes. You can make yourself invisible.”
She laughed. “None of the above. I’m not sure I want to talk to about it, Carson. I’ve struggled with believing it myself, but based on what I’ve seen with my own eyes, I seem to be able to affect people with my cooking.”
What? “Your cooking?”
She nodded. “Aside from running the Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen food truck during the week, I’m a personal chef. I seem to be able to change moods and lift hearts with my food.”
She glanced at him, and he tried to make his expression more neutral but the disappointment punching him in the stomach made that impossible.
“Not what you want to hear, I know,” she said. “But this is my family. This is me. I’m not saying I understand it or even want it, but I seem to have this...gift.”
He resumed walking, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “You made me a shrimp po’boy. What effect did that have on me?”
“I don’t think any. Which is unusual.”
He was disappointed. For a moment there, despite everything, he’d felt drawn to this woman. But here she was, spouting the same nonsense her mother had. He wanted to walk away, but he wasn’t going to just abandon her in the evening on the sidewalk, even in very safe Blue Gulch. He’d been raised to be a gentleman.
So he’d play along. Maybe he’d trip her up, get her to admit how ridiculous the idea was. Lifting hearts with her food? Lord. “So how do you set this up? You offer customers a chance to turn their frown upside down for an extra five bucks?”
She shot him a glare. “Did I say one word to you when you ordered? No. I don’t charge extra. I just get a sense of what someone needs and I infuse the food naturally. Maybe an insecure person will get a boost of confidence. A hurting person will feel a bit stronger.”
“And a pissed-off man like me, worried about my father wasting his time and energy on some crazy fortune? Why didn’t the po’boy change my mood?”
She bit her lip and looked down at the ground. “I really don’t know.”
“Shocker.”
“You don’t have to be rude,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Right then, under the darkening sky, the combination of her hurt expression and how alone she seemed made him feel like a heel. “Sorry. I’m just...my father is new to me, Olivia. My whole life, until my mother died, my father was a stranger I barely saw. Work was the most important thing in his life. Now, he’s a different person. Kinder, interested in family, in people, in the community and world around him. I once thought he had no heart, and now he has too much heart. You see how he is with Danny.”
She tilted her head. “Can a person have too much heart? He’s wonderful with Danny. A dream grandpa.”
“All that extra heart means a lot more room to be hurt and easily swindled.” He stopped walking for a moment, struck by what he’d just said. He hadn’t realized how worried he was that his father would be hurt—not just swindled. The man who made Danny laugh and shout “yay!” whenever Carson mentioned they were going to see grandpa was not going to get that heart stepped on by a con artist.
“I think my mother meant every word of that fortune, Carson.”
Why was she so frustrating? Who cared if Madam Miranda believed in her phony “gift”? There was no such thing as predicting the future. There was probability and possibility and plain old-fashioned guesses. But there was no crystal ball. “Right, Olivia. So somewhere out there is a green-eyed woman named Sarah in a hair salon with some ridiculous blow-dryer tattoo. And she’s my supposedly my father’s second great love.”
Olivia nodded. She seemed about to say something, then looked away.
“Well, I’m not going to let my father go on some wild-goose chase and let some swindler snow my dad for his money. I finally have my dad. I’m not going to let him get hurt.”
“Or you could have a little faith, Carson Ford.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’d laugh but I don’t want to be rude again.”
She lifted her chin. “I live just down this street,” she said, pointing to Golden Way. “Please thank your father for his hospitality.” Then she stalked off.
He watched her walk to the second house on the left, a tiny yellow cottage with a white picket fence and a bunch of wind chimes. A black-and-white cat was sitting on the porch and wrapped around her legs, the yellow-brown cowboy boots. Olivia bent down and scratched the cat behind the ears, then picked it up and gave it a nuzzle before carrying it inside.
When the door closed, he felt strangely bereft, the lack of her so startling that he wanted to knock on the door and argue with her a little more just to be near her.
He had to clamp down on that feeling. He’d been through the wringer with his ex-wife and had no interest in feeling anything for a woman. Everything he had, all the mush and gush he had left, went to his son. Olivia Mack was likely in on her mother’s scam, though she did strike him as honest, and Carson considered himself a pretty good judge of character, of sizing someone up.
She wasn’t going to help dissuade his father from heartbreak and a big time-waster. Which meant he had to forget Olivia Mack and the way she got under his skin.
