Читать книгу A Bride by Summer - Sandra Steffen - Страница 11
ОглавлениеTwo hours after her parents and Amanda left, Ruby stood tapping her foot on the sidewalk at the corner of Jefferson and Division Streets. She wasn’t thinking about the quote she’d requested from the electrician or the baffling little mystery regarding the sleeping bag folded neatly on one of the pool tables in her tavern. She wasn’t even thinking about the broodingly attractive man she’d encountered on Orchard Highway earlier. Well, she wasn’t thinking about him very much.
She was thinking that if the walk sign didn’t light soon, she was going to take her chances with the oncoming traffic, because she was starving.
At long last, the light changed and the window-shoppers ahead of her started across, Ruby close behind them. There was a spring in her step as she completed the last little jaunt to the restaurant at the top of the hill.
Inside, it was standing room only. People huddled together in small groups while they waited for a table.
Ruby made her way toward a handwritten chalk menu on the adjacent wall and began pondering her options. The door opened and closed several times as more people crowded into the foyer. Ruby was contemplating the lunch specials when someone jostled her from behind.
“Sorry about that,” a tall man with a very small baby said, visibly trying to give her a little room.
Ruby rarely got caught staring, but there was something oddly familiar about the man. He had dark hair and an angular jaw and brown eyes. Upon closer inspection, she was certain she’d never seen him before.
He eased sideways to make room for someone trying to leave, and Ruby found herself smiling at the baby.
With a wave of his little arms, the little boy smiled back at her. “He likes you,” the father said.
“It’s this hair.” She twirled a long lock and watched the baby’s smile grow.
“You aren’t by any chance looking for a job, are you?” the man asked.
Voices rose and silverware clattered and someone’s cell phone rang. Through the din she wondered if she’d heard correctly.
“Provided you have never been arrested, don’t lie, steal, cheat on your taxes or have a library book overdue, that is,” he added.
She took a step back. “Um, that is, I mean—”
“Forgive me.” Unlike the baby, this man didn’t appear to be someone who smiled easily. In his mid-thirties, he looked tired and earnest and completely sincere. “It’s just that Joey didn’t take one look at you and start screaming.”
She took a deep breath of warm, fragrant air and noticed that someone else was entering through the heavy front door. The crowd parted, making room for the newcomer. Suddenly she was standing face-to-face with the man she’d encountered along Old Orchard Highway earlier.
He looked surprised, too, but he recovered quickly and said, “Hello, again.” He gave her one of those swift, thorough glances men have perfected over the ages. His eyes looked gray in this light, his face lean and chiseled. “I see you’ve met my brother Marsh.”
Did he say brother?
She glanced from one to the other. But of course. No wonder the man holding the baby looked familiar. These two were brothers.
“I’m Reed Sullivan, by the way.”
Upon hearing the name Sullivan, she said, “Ruby O’Toole. Do you by any chance know Lacey Bell Sullivan?”
“We’ve known Lacey forever,” Marsh said. “Two days ago she married our younger brother, Noah.”
“How do you know our new sister-in-law?” This time it was Reed who spoke.
And she found her gaze locked with his. “I bought Bell’s Tavern from Lacey. I’m a little surprised to run into you again so soon,” she said. “I mean, one chance encounter is one thing.”
“Is that what this is?” Reed asked. “A chance encounter?”
His hair was five shades of blond in this light, his skin tan. There were lines beside his eyes, and something intriguing in them.
Something came over her, settling deeper, slowly tugging at her insides. She couldn’t think of anything to say, and that was unusual for her. Reed’s gaze remained steady on hers, and it occurred to her that he wasn’t talking anymore, either.
He was looking at her with eyes that saw God only knew what. It made these chance encounters feel heaven-sent, and that made her heart speed up and her thoughts warm.
In some far corner of her mind, she knew she had to say something, do something. She could have mentioned that she’d met their sister, Madeline, a few months ago, but that made this feel even more like destiny, and that simply wouldn’t do. Someone mentioned the weather, and she was pretty sure Reed said something about the Tigers.
Normally, the weather and baseball were safe topics. They would have been safe today, but Reed smiled, and Ruby lost all sensation in her toes. Moments ago, the noise in the room had been almost deafening. Suddenly, voices faded and the clatter of silverware ceased.
Ruby’s breath caught just below the little hollow at the base of her throat and a sound only she could hear echoed deep inside her chest. Part sigh, part low croon, it slowly swept across her senses.
In some far corner of her mind, she was aware that Marsh said something. He spoke again. After the third time, Reed looked dazedly at his brother.
“Our table’s ready,” Marsh explained.
It took Ruby a moment to gather her wits, but she finally found her voice. “It was nice meeting you,” she said to Marsh.
Her gaze locked with Reed’s again. She wasn’t sure what had just happened between them, but something had. She’d heard about moments like this; she’d even read about them, but she’d never experienced one quite like it herself. Until today.
After giving him a brief nod, she wended her way through the crowded room toward the counter to order her lunch to go. Initially she’d planned to wait for a table. Instead, she fixed her eyes straight ahead while her take-out order was being filled. All the while, her heart seemed intent upon fluttering up into her throat.
It was a relief when she walked out into the bright sunshine, the white paper bag that contained her lunch in her hand, her oversize purse hanging from her shoulder. Dazedly donning a pair of sunglasses, she hurried down the sidewalk. She’d reached the corner before the haze began to clear in her mind. Up ahead, two young girls were having their picture taken in front of the fountain on the courthouse square and several veterans were gathered around the flagpole.
Ruby skidded to a stop and looked around. Where was she?
She glanced to the right and to the left, behind her at the distance she’d come, then ahead where the sun glinted off the bronze sculpture on the courthouse lawn. With rising dismay, she shook her head.
She was going the wrong way.
* * *
“Care to tell me what you’re doing?” Marsh asked Reed after the waitress cleared their places.
Decorated in classic Americana diner style, the Hill had its original black-and-white tile floors, booths with chrome legs and benches covered in red vinyl. Other than the menu, which had been adapted to modern tastes and trends, very little had changed. The Sullivans had been coming here for years. This was the first time they’d brought a baby with them, however.
Reed double-checked the buckles on Joey’s car seat. The baby’s head was up, his feet were down and the straps weren’t twisted. Ten days ago he hadn’t known the correct way to fasten an infant safely into a car seat. That first week had been one helluva crash course for all three of them, but now Reed could buckle Joey into this contraption with his eyes closed. He could prepare a bottle when he was half asleep, too. Even diaper changing was getting easier.
Sliding to the end of his side of the booth, he said, “I’m buckling Joey into this car seat. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You noticed nothing unusual here today?” Marsh countered in a quiet voice strong enough to penetrate steel.
“If you have a point, make it. I don’t have time to play Twenty Questions,” Reed declared.
“You don’t seem concerned that the judge joined us for lunch,” Marsh said, digging into his pocket for the tip.
Ivan Sullivan was one of those men few people liked but most couldn’t help respecting.
After discovering Joey on their doorstep ten days ago, Marsh, Reed and Noah had paid their great-uncle a visit at the courthouse. An abandoned minor child was no laughing matter, and no one had been laughing as the brothers fell into rank in the judge’s chambers. The note clearly stated that Joey was a Sullivan, and they’d had every intention of caring for him themselves while they unraveled this puzzle. In order for Joey to remain under their care, they were to keep the judge apprised of Joey’s progress in detailed, weekly in-person reports.
Reed glanced over the heads of other diners and watched his great-uncle cut a path to the door. The way the aging judge tapped his cane on the floor with his every step only added to his haughtiness. Today’s interrogation had been impromptu, but it was completely in keeping with his character. Surely, Marsh agreed.
His older brother left the tip on the table and Reed picked up the car seat with Joey strapped securely inside. Showing up in public with the baby had been the private investigator’s suggestion. Arguably the most successful P.I. in the state, Sam Lafferty was banking on the possibility that seeing Marsh and Reed with Joey would stir up a little gossip and perhaps jar someone’s memory of having seen an unknown woman with a small baby in the area.
“We’re doing our best to care for Joey,” Reed insisted. “The judge knows that. We leveled with him today.”
“We?” Marsh countered. “He asked what steps we’re taking to locate Joey’s mother and why we haven’t hired a permanent nanny and how much Joey weighs and where he sleeps. You, who can outtalk most politicians, barely said boo.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Reed argued.
“That a fact?”
Reed narrowed his eyes at his brother’s tone. And waited.
“You ordered the salmon,” Marsh said offhandedly.
“That was salmon?” Reed asked.
Marsh slanted him a look not unlike the judge’s. “You had meat loaf. It arrived with a loaded baked potato just the way I ordered it. Shelly mixed up our plates. You dug into my lunch the moment she set it in front of you.”
With his sinking feeling growing stronger, Reed raked his fingers through his hair, for surely the shrewdest judge in the county had noticed Reed’s faux pas. If he and Marsh were going to keep Joey out of the system, neither of them had better display so much as a hint of poor behavior.
They walked outside together and stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the red-and-white awning shading the restaurant’s facade.
Grasping the handle of the car seat firmly in his right hand, Reed let the seat dangle close to the ground, simulating a rocking motion that was lulling Joey to sleep. “I owe you,” he said. “You don’t even like salmon.”
“It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for me, but that was some reaction you had to the redhead who bought Lacey’s place.”
A city crew was working on a burst water main at the bottom of the hill on Division Street, and traffic was being rerouted. Unbidden, Reed’s thoughts took a little detour, too, over long legs and creamy skin and amazing hair and green eyes that had locked with his.
“Holy hell,” he muttered under his breath.
He didn’t get any argument from Marsh.
A horn honked at a delivery truck parked in the left-turn lane and three boys with shaggy hair and black T-shirts raced by on skateboards. A meter reader was marking tires and three old men were talking in front of the post office. It was just another ordinary summer day in Orchard Hill, and yet nothing had felt ordinary to Reed and Marsh in the past ten days. Joey’s arrival had changed their lives, and neither of them could shake the feeling that something monumental was coming.
Their phones rang moments apart, startling them both.
Reed fished his phone out of his pocket, and over the booming bass of a passing car’s radio, he said, “Yes, Sam, I’m here. Slow down.”
When it came to investigative work, Sam Lafferty didn’t mince words. Reed listened carefully to the latest report while keeping his end of the conversation to simple yes-and-no answers.
Marsh’s call ended first. After a few minutes, Reed slipped his phone back into his pocket, too. Waiting until two dog walkers were out of hearing range, he said, “Sam located another woman named Julia Monroe.”
He had Marsh’s undivided attention.
“According to Sam, she’s five feet tall, has curly blond hair, a doting husband and a six-month-old baby daughter who looks just like her.”
Joey’s eyelashes fluttered as he slept. Reed wondered if he was dreaming of his mother. He didn’t know if that was possible, but lately a great deal had happened that he’d never imagined was possible.
“The Julia I know is five-six and has dark hair.”
Marsh’s voice sounded strained and his disappointment over yet another dead end was almost palpable. He wanted a resolution to this as much as Reed did.
“Sam is following every lead he has on both Cookie and Julia,” Reed said. “He’ll locate Joey’s mother. Or she’ll return for him, as she said in her note. We need to be prepared either way, to do what’s best for Joey either way, and we’re working on that. We are. You know it and I know it. Who was your call from?”
“It was Lacey,” Marsh answered. “She and Noah stopped in Vegas and decided to spend the rest of their honeymoon there. She wants one of us to pick up those old cameras her dad used to display on the shelves behind the bar at Bell’s.”
“Why don’t you take Joey home,” Reed said. “I’ll get the cameras and be right behind you.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Obviously Marsh was thinking of Reed’s reaction to Bell’s new owner. But Reed was determined to stay levelheaded as he awaited the eventual outcome of the paternity test they’d performed that very morning. If the results of that test indicated that Joey was Reed’s son, Reed’s life would include Joey’s mother in one capacity or another. Until they knew for sure, he had no intention of getting involved with anyone.
“Maybe I should collect those cameras,” Marsh said.
“I’ll go,” Reed said. “Don’t worry, I have this under control.”
* * *
The last time Reed had been summoned to the alley behind Bell’s Tavern, he’d had every intention of calmly talking Noah out of a fight. He’d wound up with a sore fist and a bruised jaw. When it was over, he and Noah had brushed the alley dust off their shoes and walked away, leaving the three troublemakers sitting in the dirt.
The alley was paved now, the steps leading to the second-story apartment freshly painted. Determined to maintain a far greater degree of restraint this afternoon, he parked beside Ruby O’Toole’s sky-blue Chevy. He would knock on her door, politely ask for Lacey’s cameras and then leave. If he felt so much as a stirring of red-hot anything, he would douse it before it spread.
Cool, calm and collected, he started up the stairs. At the top, he knocked briskly. In a matter of seconds the lock scraped and the door was thrown open, and Ruby O’Toole was squinting against the bright sunlight, hard-rock music blasting behind her.
“Isn’t that Metallica?” he asked.
“Are you taking a survey?”
Reed had the strongest inclination to laugh out loud, and it was the last thing he’d expected. Ruby wasn’t laughing, however, so he curbed his good humor, as well.
She’d put her hair up since lunch. Several curls had already pulled free. The hem of her white tank had crept up at her waist and a strap had slipped off one shoulder, revealing a faint trail of freckles that drew his gaze. The ridges of her collarbones looked delicate, her skin golden. He couldn’t help noticing the little hollow at the base of her neck, where a vein was pulsing.
“I’m in the middle of something here,” she said huffily as a curl fluttered freely to the side of her neck. “So, if you don’t mind—”
Subtle she wasn’t.
“You’re busy,” he said. “I’ll come back at a better time.”
She was shaking her head before he’d uttered the last word. “Oh no you don’t. Uh-uh.” Gritting her teeth, she said, “That isn’t what I meant.”
Two motorcycles chugged into the alley, the riders conversing over their revving engines. Stifling irritation that seemed to be directed toward him, she opened the door a little farther and said, “You might as well come in.”
She didn’t add Enter at your own risk, but she might as well have. Again, he had the strongest inclination to smile. His curiosity piqued, he followed her inside.
He closed the door but remained near it as he looked around. The living room had dark paneled walls and high ceilings and worn oak floors. A doorway on the left led to the kitchen. On the right was a shadowy hallway.
Ruby veered around half of a large sectional sitting at an odd angle in the center of the room and didn’t stop until she reached a low table on the far wall. Her back to him, she quickly reached down for the volume button on an old stereo. No seeing man could have kept his eyes off the seat of those tight little shorts.
She spun around and caught him looking. While she narrowed her eyes, he reminded himself he had a legitimate reason for being here.
He’d come to—
It had to do with—
Discretion. Yes, that was it. And valor, and honor and responsibility and, huh, other important things, he was sure.
Apparently experiencing a little technical difficulty with the neurons in his brain, he took a moment to reacclimatize. It wasn’t easy, but he forced his gaze away and once again looked around the room. An old trunk had been pushed against the wall, a carpet rolled up in front of it. There was an overstuffed chair and a floor lamp, too, and a few dozen boxes stacked two and three high. The fact that she’d been unpacking and arranging heavy furniture explained the sheen of perspiration on her face. He wasn’t sure what to make of her irritation.
“Is something wrong, Ruby?” he asked.
* * *
Wrong? What could possibly be wrong?
Ruby didn’t know whether to huff or, gosh darn it, swoon. She’d never really cared for her name, and yet Reed Sullivan made it sound like a treasure. He had one of those clear, deep voices perfectly suited for late-night radio shows and the dark. She almost wished he would keep talking.
He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep hers off him, either.
He wore dark pants and a dove-gray shirt, and it must have been hours since he’d shaved. He’d politely kept his distance, and yet the shadow of beard stubble on his jaw suggested a vein of the uncivilized. Her imagination took a little stroll that made the possibilities seem endless. The fact was, she liked the way he looked in that shirt and she was fairly certain she would like the way he looked with the buttons undone, too.
Whoa. She had to put a stop to this.
She’d made a promise to herself. She’d listed her goals when Amanda and her parents had been here hours ago. They had to do with pride and determination and succeeding and nothing to do with the way the air heated and her senses heightened every time she came within ten feet of Reed Sullivan.
She gave herself a firm mental shake and reminded herself that she really needed to focus. “Here’s the thing,” she said sternly.
There was a slight narrowing of his eyes, but he remained near the door, watching her, waiting for her to continue. His brows were straight and slightly darker than his hair, his face all angles and planes, his lips parted just enough to reveal the even edges of his teeth. She wondered what his mouth would feel like against her lips, her throat, her—
Grinding her molars together, she straightened her spine. She supposed she couldn’t legitimately fault him for the color of his eyes or the way his pants rode low at his waist.
She blinked and refocused.
While the fan whirred behind her, she said, “I’ve been known to make bad choices, but I’ve never gotten thoroughly lost and I’m not about to start now. Do you understand?”
“This has something to do with getting lost?” he asked.
“I went the wrong way today, but I was not lost.”
“I see.”
He was being polite again, and patient, which only increased her frustration. Holding out her hand in a halting gesture, she said, “Yes, you’re tall, with a capital T. And you have a slightly sinful smile you don’t overuse. All that aside, you’re just another good-looking guy in a fine broadcloth shirt. No offense.”
“None taken.” There went that sinful smile he didn’t overuse. And there went the feeling in her toes.
She sighed. “It’s true that I have fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants tendencies. My father expects my new business venture to fail, and my cheating ex-boyfriend believes I’ll come crawling back, and maybe I have made rash decisions in the past, but I never get lost. It has to do with my photographic memory. Technically it’s called eidetic imagery.”
He assumed a thoughtful pose, his left arm folded across his ribs, his chin resting on his fist.
Ruby’s clothes were beginning to feel constricting, her bottom lip the slightest bit pouty and her pulse fluttery. And her toes, well, blast her toes.
While twenty-year-old heavy-metal music played in the background far more softly than Aerosmith ever intended, Reed rested his hands confidently on his hips and said, “In essence, you’re saying you got lost today and it had something to do with me.”
“Not lost,” she countered. “Slightly turned around. I don’t want— I just don’t think— I shouldn’t.” She shook her head, straightened her spine. “I won’t.”
The old stereo shut off. Without music, the whir of the fan was a lonesome hum in the too-warm room.
“I’m spontaneous,” she said, trying to explain. “Unfortunately, I bore easily. Believe me, it’s a curse. I had a dream job in L.A. that I hated, and now I’m here, and I don’t want to go back to my dad’s towing service. I bought this tavern and I need to focus on getting it open and running and keeping it that way, not on some guy who, it turns out, is tall.”
“With a capital T.” He met her steadfast gaze. “Isn’t that how you put it?”
The air heated and her thoughts slowed. It was all she could do not to smile.
Time passed slowly. Or perhaps it stopped altogether. She found herself staring into his blue-gray eyes, and doing so changed everything, until there was only this moment in time.
She swallowed. Breathed.
Yes, he was tall, she thought, and he didn’t scream expletives after he’d been run off the road, and the color of his eyes was as dense and changeable as storm clouds. It was unfortunate that staring into them had wiped out the feeling in her toes, but it wasn’t his fault.
“Ruby?” Reed said.
“Yes?”
“I stopped by to pick up Lacey’s cameras.”
She blinked. For a second there she thought he said he’d stopped by to pick up Lacey’s cameras.
Ohmygod. That’s what he said.
She hadn’t blushed since she was thirteen years old and she really hoped she didn’t start again now. Since the floor failed to open up and swallow her whole, she whirled around, stuck her stupid tingly toes into the nearest pair of flip-flops, grabbed the key ring off the peg in the kitchen and started for the door.
She darted past him, down the stairs and around the barrel of purple-and-yellow petunias blooming at the bottom. Every concise little thud the heels of his Italian loafers made on the stairs let her know he was following her.
She unlocked the tavern’s back door, and as the heavy steel monstrosity swung in on creaking hinges, she said, “You could have stopped me.”
Surprisingly, his voice came from little more than two feet behind her. “Only a fool would stop a beautiful woman when she’s insinuating she’s profoundly attracted to him, too.”
Ruby must have turned around, because she and Reed stood face-to-face, nearly toe to toe, his head tilted down slightly, hers tilted up. Holding her breath, she found herself wondering why it seemed that the smallest words in the English language were always the most poignant and powerful.
Too, Reed had said.
She was profoundly attracted to him, too.
That meant he was profoundly attracted to her, also.
They were profoundly attracted to each other.
Lord help her, she was reacting to this profound attraction again, to his nearness and the implications and nearly every wild and wonderful possibility that came with it. His gaze roamed over her entire face as if he liked what he saw. As the clock on the courthouse chimed the quarter hour and a horn honked in the distance, Ruby’s heart fluttered into her throat, her toes tingling crazily and her thoughts spinning like moons around a newly discovered planet.
She and Reed seemed to realize in unison how close they were and how easy it would be to lean in those last few inches until their lips touched. If that happened, it would undoubtedly be incredible and there was no telling where it would lead. Fine. There was a very good chance it would lead to sex, wild, fast, ready, middle-of-the-day sex that spiraled into a crescendo of adrenaline and exploding electricity not unlike the music she’d been listening to before she was so rudely—okay, not that rudely—interrupted.
They stilled. Taking a shaky breath, she drew back, and so did he, one centimeter at a time.
He was the first to find his voice. “As tempting as it is to take a little detour here, I’m not going to.”
“You’re not?”
He shook his head. “You have my word.”
“Oh. Um. Good.” Since his word was something she doubted he gave lightly, she led the way through a narrow hallway, past the storage room and restrooms, and into the cavernous tavern in need of paint and a good scrubbing and a brand-new image. Flipping on light switches as she went, she continued until she reached the ornately carved bar where she’d left the box she’d started filling with Lacey’s cameras.
“Here’s the thing,” Reed declared, using her exact terminology.
It occurred to Ruby that he was not a man of almosts. He wasn’t almost tall or almost handsome or almost proud. He was all those things and more. He’d drawn a line in the sand and apparently he intended to make certain she knew exactly how far, how deep and how wide the line ran.
“The baby you saw my brother carrying before lunch?” he said.
“Joey?” she asked, standing on tiptoe to reach the last three cameras on the top shelf.
“Joey, yes. You assumed Marsh is his father.”
She stood mute, waiting for him to continue.
“Unless I’m mistaken, you alluded to that at the restaurant,” he said.
Half the lights in the room were burned out and the bulbs in the other half were so dim and the fixtures so grimy, light didn’t begin to reach into the corners. Murky shadows pooled beneath the small tables and mismatched chairs. The billiards tables in the back were idle, the shape of the neatly folded bedroll barely discernible from here.
Carefully tucking Bubble Wrap around another camera, Ruby finally said, “Are you telling me Marsh isn’t Joey’s father?”
“It’s possible he is.” Reed’s voice was deep, reverent almost, and extraordinarily serious. “But it’s also possible I am.”
Surely Ruby’s dismay was written all over her face all over again. But she didn’t have it in her to care how she looked.
The baby she’d seen before lunch was possibly Reed’s? Had she heard him correctly?
“Oh, my God.”
He nodded as if he couldn’t have said it better himself.
She slid the cumbersome box of cameras aside. Resting one elbow comfortably on the bar’s worn surface, she gestured fluidly with her other hand and said, “Have a seat, cowboy. This is one story I’ve got to hear.”
