Читать книгу Claimed By The Cowboy - Sarah M. Anderson - Страница 11

Three

“I might be stuck here for a couple of days,” Josh told his grandfather, Peter Calhoun, who’d called just as Josh was getting into his truck after leaving Carson’s place.

He wasn’t sure what he hoped that his grandfather would say. Peter Calhoun was still the chairman of the Calhoun Creamery, although he was well into his eighties and little more than a figurehead at this point. For all intents and purposes, Josh ran the creamery as CEO. And he hated being away from it.

He almost wanted his grandfather to tell him to come home right now. To heck with the Newports and the Winchesters and the whole city. Chicago was not his town. And the longer he was there, the more everything would hurt.

But if he turned tail and ran—and there was no mistaking the fact that that was exactly what it would be—then what would they think of him? Brooks and Graham and Carson and, yes, Lucy?

He’d given up Lucy’s friendship once without a fight. He could not willingly forfeit the Newports’ friendship, too.

“No big rush,” his grandfather said, his voice crackling with age. “You work too hard, son. Take all the time you need.”

That was not exactly what Josh wanted to hear. “It’ll only be a few more days,” he said as if his grandfather had asked him to come home. “I think the Newport boys need me to be here long enough to see Sutton Winchester settled a little bit. I won’t be here a moment longer.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone before his grandfather said, “Josh, I know it must be hard for you to be back in Chicago, but I’m serious. Your brothers and sisters are doing a great job holding down the fort. Take the time you need to take. The cows aren’t going anywhere. Paige has the situation well in hand and Trevor is helping cover for you. You know, I think it’s been good for him to have a little more responsibility.”

Josh scowled, not that his grandfather could see it. He did his best to take care of his siblings.

“Unless there’s something else bothering you?” Peter Calhoun asked tentatively.

“DC was fine,” Josh quickly said. “I think we’ll see some good things for the creamery in the new regulations. We should be able to capitalize on the push for hormone-free products and grow our market share.” That wasn’t what his grandfather had asked, but switching back into corporate-lawyer mode was almost automatic for him.

And they both knew it. “But...” the older man said in his gentle way.

Josh sighed. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “But Lucy Wilde is Sutton Winchester’s oncologist.”

“Is that so?” At first Josh thought his grandfather didn’t remember who Lucy was, but then he added, “Have you seen her since graduation?”

“No.” Josh left it at that. He didn’t need to tell his grandfather that Lucy had looked at him with absolute venom in her eyes, and he also didn’t need to mention that he had sent her flowers already.

“An oncologist? Well, good for her. You know...” His grandfather trailed off and Josh could infer what the old man was not saying.

You know, we always wondered what happened between you two. You know, she was such a nice girl. You know, you know, you know.

Shortly after Lucy and Josh had gone to their respective colleges far, far away from each other, Lucy’s folks had moved out of Cedar Point. The Wilde family had no more connections with Iowa that he knew of. Lucy had not come back.

But Josh had.

And he would again.

Josh knew he shouldn’t be sending flowers to anyone. What he had was his job and his family. And that was all he needed. He didn’t need the feeling of desire that hit him low in the gut. He’d lived a good five years without it, after all.

And he especially didn’t need to feel that desire for someone he had a messy history with. The less complicated his life, the happier he was.

And one thing was blindingly obvious—Lucy Wilde was complicated. With a capital C.

“If you see her again, you tell her I said hi,” his grandfather went on as if Josh were actively participating in this conversation. “You know, she was such a nice girl. I’m glad to hear she is doing well. And Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s no rush. If you need to take a couple of weeks in Chicago, that’s fine. Your brother and sisters and I have everything under control.”

If Josh didn’t know any better, he’d think his grandfather was actively telling him not to come home. “Yeah, okay. I’ll let you know.” And with that he hung up.

He stared at his phone. Why did his grandfather’s insistence that he take some time off bother him so much? Josh didn’t need to take time off. He was fine. He’d been fine for a long time.

His mind called up the images of the three women he’d had conversations with today—the Newports’ receptionist, Eve Winchester and Lucy Wilde. He hadn’t responded to Eve at all, but that feeling had been mutual. Nothing unusual there.

But that receptionist...she’d been actively flirting with Josh. He’d felt nothing other than noting she was a pretty girl. No reaction, no interest. As usual.

Then he’d come around that corner and seen Lucy. That had inspired a reaction in him, which was putting it mildly. Was it just the shock of seeing her again after all these years? Or was it something else?

Before he could fire up the truck, his phone buzzed and lit up with a text message. Josh jolted and almost dropped his phone, but he managed to keep a grip on it and prevent it from sliding down between his thigh and the seat.

For Pete’s sake. His heart thumping along at a good clip, he looked at the screen. It was a Chicago area code. The text message read, I don’t know if dinner is such a good idea.

Oh, thank God. Lucy had gotten the flowers. And she had not promptly told him to go to hell. On the whole, that was an improvement from their earlier conversation and, for some reason, made him feel...hopeful?

Why? Don’t you eat dinner?

The little bubble popped up on the screen that meant she was typing something back. What do you really want?

The hell of it was, he didn’t actually know. Why wasn’t he letting this drop? Was it simply because he was in Chicago and it was easier to think about Lucy than it was to think about Sydney? Or was it because he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to help out the Newport boys and this problem seemed less challenging?

Or...was it something else?

His fingers curved and he could almost feel her hand in his again, see the way her eyes had widened when he’d pulled her in.

It didn’t seem possible that he wanted her. Not after five years without a single damned spark of attraction to any woman.

So he sidestepped the unfamiliar emotions and focused on what he could handle. To catch up with an old friend, he texted back.

The little bubble popped up, went away and then popped up again before he got a reply. You shouldn’t send me flowers at work.

I didn’t have your home address. It’s just dinner, Lucy. He almost added, I’ve missed you, but at the last second, he changed his mind and backspaced over the words. Except he hit the wrong button and accidentally sent a partial text that read, I’ve mp.

Crap.

Sorry, he quickly texted. Hit the wrong button.

She didn’t answer for the longest time—so long, in fact, that Josh was pretty sure she had decided to call it a day.

Then her reply popped up. One dinner. That’s it.

Tonight? The moment he hit Send, he felt stupid. He hadn’t come to Chicago for Lucy. He’d told Carson as much. He was here for the Newport boys and nothing more. Tonight was about settling in with a couple of six-packs and doing his level best to keep Brooks from going off the deep end.

But suddenly he realized he wanted her to come to dinner with him. And not just because they were old friends. Okay, because they were old friends—the very best of old friends.

Hell. He didn’t know why he needed her to say yes. Only that he did.

Can’t. Dealing with the Winchesters.

Disappointment unfurled in his chest, but then another text popped up. Tomorrow night. Meet me at Lou Malnati’s on N. State. 7 o’clock.

Chicago pizza? I’m there, he texted.

All this was, he told himself, was two old friends getting together for dinner at a classic Chicago restaurant. And Josh would be lying if he said he didn’t miss Chicago food. Cedar Point, Iowa, was a great small town and a wonderful place to grow up, but folks there considered Applebee’s to be fancy and the ethnic food section of the grocery store consisted of refried beans and tortilla chips. Chicago dining was one of the very few things that he missed about the city.

His stomach rumbled.

So that was why he was suddenly excited. Not the fact that Lucy had said yes, but that he was going to get a good Chicago pizza for the first time in a long time.

Nothing more.

* * *

This was a mistake. Lucinda had spent the last twenty-four hours doing her regular job and dealing with the Winchester sisters. She understood that they loved their father, and she also understood that they only wanted what was best for him.

But they were going to drive her past madness in record time.

And what she wanted right now more than anything was to be curled up on her couch with a pint of ice cream—yes, Calhoun Creamery ice cream—and watching a Sandra Bullock movie.

She did not want to be walking into a pizzeria at 6:58 on a Thursday night. And she most especially did not want to be meeting Josh Calhoun.

Somehow, though, that hadn’t stopped her from rushing home after work to change. Even worse, it hadn’t stopped her from putting on one of her few dresses, a sleeveless navy blue wrap dress that she had worn to weddings and funerals alike. The evening was cool, and she’d put on a cream-colored cardigan so she didn’t feel naked.

She knew that if the people from work saw her—especially someone like Elena—they would lose their collective minds, because Lucinda never dressed up, never put on mascara and lipstick, and she never, ever wore her hair down. All the things she was doing right now.

There was only one explanation. She had lost what was left of her mind.

This is not a date, she told herself as she forced her feet to carry her through the door and into the restaurant. This was two old friends catching up—nothing more, nothing less.

Which did nothing to explain the way her stomach fluttered when Josh caught sight of her and stood up. Now that she was braced for seeing him again, it was easier to see how he had changed compared with what she remembered. He was taller and broader—a fact that was only emphasized by the heather-gray blazer he wore over a white dress shirt. He didn’t have on his trademark hat, either. His hair was neatly combed and he was clean-shaven.

Two thoughts hit Lucinda at the exact same time.

God, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. So much more than the cute boy she’d been friends with.

And oh, hell. This was a date.

Those two things were quickly followed by a third, even more terrifying thought—it was too late to back out now.

“Lucy!” Josh came around the table and made a move as though he was going to hug her, but then he pulled up short and instead just put his hands on her shoulders. “You look great,” he said.

It was the kind of thing that he could’ve just tossed off as a social nicety. But his gaze traveled over her body—which made her want to curl up self-consciously into a small ball and hide. This was painful. Excruciatingly so. She knew she was a failure when it came to sensuality. Heck, wasn’t that why she’d put on the cardigan? Because it hid her shapeless body—and it was as close to her lab coat as she could get away with outside the hospital?

Then he added, “Wow. You’ve really grown up,” in a tone that was uncomfortably close to reverential.

Was that a compliment? It had to be. There was no mocking eye roll, no barely contained snicker behind his words. And, truthfully, she was pretty sure she’d be able to tell. She’d always been able to read Josh better than his own mother.

No, he was being sincere. And that somehow made everything worse. Lucinda forced herself to smile. “So have you. I’m surprised to see that hat isn’t chemically bonded to your head.”

“Hey!” Josh yelped in mock embarrassment. “At least I stopped sleeping with it on.”

Against her will, Lucinda laughed. “Maturity in action, huh?”

Josh tried to look sheepish and didn’t quite manage it. “Here,” he said, stepping to the side and pulling out her chair for her. “Let me get this for you.”

Yeah, this was a date. Back when they’d been friends in high school, Josh had treated her exactly the way he’d treated Gary—no special favors, no coddling. And certainly no holding chairs for either of them.

Her heart began to pound wildly as she sat. What was she doing? She didn’t date. She didn’t go out. She worked and she slept, and that was it. If this really was a date—and all signs seemed to be pointing to it—she had no idea what she was supposed to do or when she was supposed to do it without making a total fool of herself.

All she knew was that she was not going to make a fool out of herself. Not again.

Josh crossed to the other side of the table and sat down. “I don’t know about you,” he said in a light tone, “but I spent all day dealing with the Newport boys. I need a beer.”

Okay, she could do this. As long as she didn’t throw herself at him again, this would be fine. “And I was handling the Winchester girls,” she admitted. That information didn’t violate the HIPAA privacy laws, especially not when Josh already knew what was going on.