Читать книгу Best Of My Love - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 10
ОглавлениеSHELBY WASN’T SURE what to expect when she showed up at Aidan’s house on Saturday afternoon, but the small, well-kept bungalow was something of a surprise. There was a two-car garage, a wide porch and a huge snowman in the front yard. While most of the town celebrated Cabin Fever Days with snow people of all genders and sizes, she hadn’t thought that Aidan would be one to participate.
His snowman was about five feet tall, with a sturdy shape and smiling face. A ski cap topped his head and two ski poles leaned against him, as if he was about to embark on an outdoor adventure. There was a whimsical quality about the snowman—maybe in the way he seemed ready to spring to life. Aidan might not have his father’s talent to work with glass, but she would guess there were a few lingering artistic genes in him.
She walked up the porch stairs and knocked on the front door. In the few seconds it took him to answer, she acknowledged the nerves bouncing around in her stomach. Part of her wanted to bolt—there was no way this was going to work. But the sensible part of her, the part that had been to therapy and read a bunch of books and really wanted to get better, knew that showing up was the first step. That if her goal of healing from the damage done to her psyche was to be reached, she had to go through the process. Running away rarely accomplished anything.
Aidan opened the door. “Right on time. Come on in.”
She did as he requested, careful to stomp the snow off her boots before walking into the house.
There was a forty-second bit of busyness to distract her from her nerves—unwinding her scarf, handing over her coat before stepping out of her boots. She noticed that Aidan was also in stocking feet, but his socks were thick and dark, while hers were covered with brightly colored cats. The contrast made her smile.
They were both in jeans and sweaters. His navy, hers dark pink. She hadn’t known what to do about makeup and perfume and all that stuff. Because this wasn’t a date. She was hanging out with a friend. But still, she’d wondered, and in the end had done what she did for work. Mascara and lip gloss.
They stared at each other. He was tall and broad. Masculine. The foyer was small and they were standing close together. Awkwardness pressed in on her. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, let alone her body.
“Should we, um...” He cleared his throat. “Go sit down?”
“Sure.”
She followed him into a good-sized living room. One wall was paneled, but not like in those scary midcentury grandma homes. This was rough-hewn, obviously old and well cared for. A big wood-burning stone fireplace stood opposite, with a large mantel stretching across the wall. A huge television hung above it. The furniture was black leather, the floors hardwood. A few paintings, mostly landscapes, were scattered on the walls. A patterned rug of reds and browns and greens anchored the room. The room was eclectic, but ultimately welcoming.
“I like it,” she said. “It’s very masculine, but not in a no-girls-allowed way.”
Aidan shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I picked out most of it. Nick helped with the rug. He has an eye for color.”
“The artist thing.”
He nodded. “That would be it.” He pointed at the sofa. “Have a seat.”
She sat at one end of the sofa. He took the other. They looked at each other, then away. Silence filled the room and awkwardness returned. Which made sense. She and Aidan barely knew each other. Rather than become friends in the normal way—over time, through shared interests—they were forcing it upon themselves. Where on earth were they supposed to start?
“What about—”
“Did you want to—”
They both spoke at the same time, stopped, and silence returned. Shelby decided there was no point in ignoring the obvious.
“This is really uncomfortable,” she said firmly. “But I think we can get past it.”
“Okay.”
The slow response was more neutral than agreement.
“We have a purpose,” she continued. “I want to fall in love and get married.”
Aidan’s expression tightened with what could only be described as panic. Some of her tension eased.
“Not to you,” she pointed out. “Don’t freak.”
“Then don’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not? Why can’t I be honest?”
“Because it’s not what any guy wants to hear. Not right off. It means you have a picture of what’s going to happen in your life and you’ll use any guy to get there. It makes us feel trapped.”
His words almost made sense. “Like what we want is more important than the outcome? Caring more about the bridal gown than the groom?”
“Yeah, that. Men and women want different things. You want to be committed.”
“And men want to cheat.”
His brows rose. “Who cheated?”
She tucked one foot under her opposite leg as she considered her words. “Wow. I honestly don’t know where that came from. Miles cheated, but we were barely dating, so I’m not sure it counts. I guess what I mean is I don’t trust men.”
“Shouldn’t you be afraid a guy would hit you rather than he would cheat?”
Talk about cutting to be heart of the matter. She held up both hands. “Yes, and maybe we could ease into the honesty just a little.”
“I thought women liked a man to say what he was thinking.”
She smiled. “That’s a myth.”
“For what it’s worth, I never cheated.”
“That’s because you were never in a relationship long enough to get bored.”
One brow rose. “So you get to be honest, but I have to be careful?”
Oops. She drew in a breath. “You’re right. Sorry. I take back my request that you edit what you say. I’m tough. I can take it.”
She thought he might make a crack about her being weak or broken, but he surprised her by nodding.
“You are tough. You’re taking control of your situation and that’s admirable. A lot of people are more comfortable being victims.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They smiled at each other.
“So what are we going to do?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“With our afternoon. We have to do something.”
“Why? We’re talking. That’s nice. We could go to Jo’s Bar and get margaritas.”
Aidan shifted back in his seat. If she didn’t know better she would swear he was starting to sweat. “No. Guys don’t go get margaritas and talk.”
“You go get beers. It’s the same thing.”
“We get a beer and watch sports. It’s not the same thing. Women want to talk everything to death. Guys don’t do that. If you ignore most problems, they usually go away.”
“Uh-huh. And how’s that strategy working for you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes. Trying not to talk about what’s wrong.”
“We could do something,” he offered. “Like watch a game. Or go skiing.”
Shelby considered his options. “You realize none of those require conversation.”
Aidan relaxed a little. “Isn’t that great?”
“But we have to get to know each other. We have to talk about our feelings.”
He winced. “Why?”
“We just do. That’s what...” She felt her eyes widen. “We’re totally different. The man-woman thing is real. I want to go have a conversation about my life and your life and what we can do to help each other, and you want to physically do something with only the occasional grunt for conversation. As a man, you don’t want to talk about anyone’s feelings, let alone your own.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. It’s not. Not talking about your feelings can be very relaxing.”
Which might be true but wasn’t helpful. “We really didn’t think this through.”
Aidan leaned toward her. “No. Do not give up on me now. We have a deal. We’ve gotten this far, we can figure out the rest of it. You want to do girl stuff and I want to do guy stuff.”
He gave her a slow, sexy smile. One that had her breath catching. But before she could do something ridiculous, like bat her eyes at him or flip her hair, she reminded herself that it wasn’t a slow, sexy smile. They weren’t involved that way. It was just a smile. She would ignore any subtext her hormones might read in to the situation.
“I know,” he told her. “We’ll alternate. Girl date, guy date. Not date, but you know what I mean.”
“That could work. We could each plan our gender event.” She grimaced. Avoiding the word date was harder that she would have thought.
“Gender event?”
“Do you have a better phrase?”
“I’m liking gender event.”
She laughed. “Okay, so you’re responsible for boy things and I’m in charge of girl things. And yes on the alternating. So who goes first?”
He stretched out his arms, one hand flat, the other curled into a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors?”
She shifted until she was facing him, then together they hit their fists against their flat hands and counted to three.
“Rock,” Aidan said triumphantly, then groaned when he saw her paper. “You win.”
“I know,” she told him. “Poor you. I grew up with a brother. Why do guys always start out with rock? It’s very predictable.”
“We can’t help ourselves.” He stood. “We’re going to get margaritas and talk about our feelings, aren’t we?”
“You know it.”
* * *
JO’S BAR HAD been around for eight or nine years. Aidan had been there a few times, but it wasn’t the kind of place he and his friends liked to hang out. For one thing, the bar catered to women.
On the surface, that might seem like a good thing—lots of beautiful women hanging out. What’s not to like? Only it wasn’t that kind of place. For one thing, the lighting was way too bright. There were no dark corners or ratty old booths. Instead the booths were new and scaled down in size. There were tables everywhere. The walls were painted some weird light purple color—Nick would know the name of the shade, but he didn’t.
While there were plenty of TVs around, they were always turned to shopping or female-based reality shows. The menu had lots of salads on it and most of the drinks had a diet version. The only part of the bar that felt close to normal was the small room in back with a pool table, but even with that concession, Jo’s generally wasn’t a place men went to on purpose.
Now The Man Cave was different. More male-friendly. Not that Shelby led him there.
“Isn’t this nice?” she asked as they walked inside.
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, look.” She pointed to the televisions. “They’re having an America’s Next Top Model marathon. I love that show.”
He’d never seen it. When he glanced at the screen, he saw women posing for pictures, which should have been appealing. Except they all looked really young and he wasn’t interested in some skinny teenager, thank you very much. Not that he was interested in women at all, he reminded himself. There would be none of that for him—for at least six months.
There weren’t a lot of customers on a nonfestival Saturday afternoon. A couple of groups of women seemed to be finishing up lunch. There was a young couple at a booth in the corner. He and Shelby took seats at a small booth in the back. Aidan had a clear view of a TV, which he considered appropriate punishment for all his past misdeeds.
Jo walked over and looked between them. “This is new,” she said. Her gaze settled on him. “I thought you only did tourists.”
“Hi, Jo.” Because there didn’t seem to be a better response.
“We’re not dating,” Shelby told the other woman. “We’re friends. It’s not romantic.”
“If you say so. What can I get you?”
“A pitcher of margaritas and some nachos,” Shelby said with a smile. “We’re going to talk.”
Jo’s brows rose. “All righty then. I have carnitas nachos today. You want that?”
“Meat is good,” Aidan said.
“Then meat.” Shelby smiled at Jo. “Thank you.”
Jo left. Aidan couldn’t begin to imagine what she was thinking, or what rumors would be spreading through town over the next few days. Whatever they were, he would deal.
Shelby looked at him. “How was your week?”
“Fine.”
One corner of her mouth twitched. “Could you expand on that? Maybe give me a few details?”
Because they were “talking.” He drew in a breath. “Work is busy. We have a good snowpack this year, which helps with business. Lots of skiing. I’m offering a snowshoeing class for beginners. That meant buying more equipment, but I think it will pay off in the long run.”
“With people coming back next year?”
“And telling their friends they had a good time.”
“Is it difficult to learn how to do it?” she asked.
“No. It’s like walking in sand with really big shoes. Level terrain isn’t bad. Uphill is tiring and downhill is the biggest challenge.”
“Gravity,” she said with a smile. “It always gets you in the end. Kipling used to say that.”
As an Olympic champion, he would know. “He had a bad accident a couple of years back, didn’t he?”
She nodded. “In New Zealand. It ended his skiing career. For a while we were scared he wouldn’t walk again, but he was determined. And lucky.” Her expression turned wistful. “Now he’s married to Destiny, with a baby on the way. He has it all.”
Which was what Shelby wanted. A home. Family. Stability. Aidan knew her dreams would be considered normal. He should probably want them for himself. But there was no way. He just wanted to not be a jackass.
“You’re going to be an aunt,” he said to shift the subject to something slightly happier for her.
“My second time around. I consider Starr to be an honorary niece. She’s my sister-in-law’s half sister, and Destiny and Kipling have custody of her. She’s almost sixteen.”
He knew Destiny but wasn’t sure he’d met Starr.
Jo brought a pitcher of margaritas and two glasses. “Nachos are on the way. You both walking?”
“We are,” Shelby told her. “We’re good.”
“Just checking.”
“She always does that,” Shelby said in a low voice, when the other woman had left. “Makes sure we’re not going to drink and drive. It’s nice. People in town look out for each other.”
“Or she doesn’t want to get sued.”
“Don’t be cynical.”
“It comes with the territory.”
“It doesn’t have to.” She poured them each a margarita.
Aidan took his and braced himself for the too-sweet drink. When it was his turn, they were drinking beer. Or scotch.
“To being friends,” Shelby said and touched her glass to his. “Thank you for helping me.”
Her eyes were blue—sort of a medium color. Nice, he thought absently. “You’re the one who’s helping me,” he told her.
They touched glasses again. He took a sip.
“Not bad,” he said. The liquid was more tart than sweet, with a hint of salt. Not his favorite but he could get used to it.
“Wait until you try the nachos. They’re amazing. So what else happened this week?”
“I’m thinking of getting a dog.”
“Interesting. A big one, right?”
He nodded. “One I could take camping and fishing.”
“You could teach it to snowboard. It could wear one of those cute coats and eye goggles.”
“That is not happening. This is a manly dog.”
“It’s a dog that doesn’t yet exist, at least not in your life. Maybe you’ll fall for a poodle.”
“Never.”
“A Yorkie?” She giggled. “You could coordinate your shirt with her hair ribbon. You’d be so sweet together.”
“Why are you emasculating me?”
“It’s fun.” She rested her elbows on the table. “But I can be serious, too. Why a dog? Are you lonely?”
He was about to say no, of course not, when it occurred to him he might be. Work kept him busy and he enjoyed his coworkers, but his relationships with them were mostly casual. Until a couple of years ago, he’d had three of his four brothers in town, but Mathias and Ronan had moved to Happily Inc. and Nick was always off doing something.
He had friends. Guy friends. But everyone was busy with their lives. As for women, as the whole world knew, he’d done his damnedest to make sure those encounters never meant anything.
“I think a dog would be good for me,” he answered, aware he was avoiding the question. “I’d have to be responsible for it. Take care of it. I’d bring it to the office. Fay would like that.”
“Fay is...”
“My office manager. She handles the scheduling and gets the tours ready.” He hesitated. “Her daughter is Kalinda. She was—”
Shelby nodded. “I know Kalinda. She loves peanut butter cookies.” She sighed. “I’m glad she’s healing, but what a difficult road for her and her family.”
“Fay does her best to stay strong,” he said, grateful he didn’t have to explain about Kalinda’s burns. The teen would face more surgeries over the years. He knew for Fay there were good days and bad days, but whatever happened, she loved her daughter unconditionally.
Jo came by with a huge platter of nachos. There were plates for each of them, along with bowls of extra salsa and guacamole. Aidan inhaled the scent of the marinated pork and realized he hadn’t eaten much that day. His stomach growled.
“Me, too,” Shelby said with a laugh as she grabbed a chip. “I was playing around with custom cookie ideas and the day got away from me. Then I didn’t have time to eat or I would be late.”
“Next time, eat,” he told her. “I don’t expect you to be exactly on time.”
“It was our first gender encounter. I wanted to make a good impression.”
He liked her teasing. The fact that she could be so charming and open meant that her father hadn’t broken her as much as she feared. Intense determination filled him. He was going to help Shelby get whatever she wanted, he promised himself. Not only because it would help him, but because it was the right thing to do.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Shelby said, “You’re one of five brothers, right?”
“I’m the second oldest. There’s Del, me, Nick, Mathias and Ronan. The last two are...” Twins. He always said twins. Only they weren’t. They never had been. It had all been a giant lie.
“Aidan?” Shelby’s voice was soft. “Are you okay?”
“You’re right,” he said bitterly. “Some men do cheat. My father did. I don’t know how many women there were. He claims just one, but I have my doubts. There had to have been others.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That’s so hard. Does your mom know?”
“She covered for him. For years.”
Shelby frowned. “I don’t understand. Why would it be an ongoing issue?”
He picked up his margarita and took a drink. “Because my youngest brother, Ronan, is his mistress’s son.”
Shelby’s blue eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect O. She looked shocked and strangely appealing. Sexy, maybe. He pushed that thought away and focused on what had happened with his family.
“Del, Nick and I were practically babies when my mom had Mathias. We didn’t know what was going on. All I remember is that I had twin brothers. Four years ago, my dad had a heart attack. It turned out to be pretty minor, but at the time, we didn’t know how bad it was. I guess he was afraid he was going to die or something and he told the twins the truth. That Ronan was the result of an affair. When Ronan’s mom was going to give him up for adoption, Dad told my mom, who agreed to raise him as her own.”
Shelby’s eyes stayed wide. “Seriously? I can’t imagine.”
“It happened. Some days I think she’s a saint and other days I’m convinced she’s a fool. That Dad played her. He gets everything and she’s stuck with some other woman’s kid.”
“That’s harsh, but I understand your point.” She reached for a chip. “What I don’t get is how she did it. I mean every time she looked at him, wouldn’t she see that other woman? Imagine her with her husband? It must have been incredibly painful.”
Aidan hadn’t planned to talk about this. He never did. He and his brothers had spoken about the situation a couple of times, but with as few words as possible. And without talking about the lingering effects on the family. But he found himself comfortable discussing it all with Shelby.
“You’d think.” He took another drink of his margarita. “But it wasn’t like that at all. Maybe at first—I wouldn’t remember that. But by the time I was eight or nine, I knew that Ronan was her favorite.”
“That’s not possible,” Shelby breathed.
“It wasn’t anything awful. She didn’t tell us that or make it obvious, but we could tell. We used to tease Ronan about being a mama’s boy. She was always fussing over him. They were the closest. Even in high school, they talked all the time.”
He remembered ragging on his brother. How Ronan had said it was because he was the superior brother. All good fun. Elaine had been there for all of them, so knowing Ronan was the one she loved just a little bit more hadn’t meant much. He’d figured it was something every group of siblings went through.
“After Dad told the twins, they left. Packed up everything and relocated to Happily Inc.”
Shelby smiled. “I’ve heard of that place. It’s outside of Palm Desert, right? A wedding-destination town. It’s supposed to be lovely, in the mountains, with an underground spring and—” She stopped and sighed. “Sorry, I was momentarily distracted. I blame the margarita.”
Her humor faded. “Wait a minute. I’m just now processing. Ceallach told the twins about Ronan and who he was and that was it? He didn’t tell your mom that he’d told the twins the truth and he didn’t tell you or your other brothers, either?”
“Not until last summer. We figured they’d gone to Happily Inc. to get away from Dad and pursue their art. No one thought anything of it.”
“But what about them? How are they? They were twins for what, twenty-five years, and they suddenly find out they’re not? Poor Ronan, to find out he’s not who he thought. That the woman he thought of as his mother isn’t. Has he met his biological mom? Are he and Elaine okay? Do you guys talk about this stuff now?”
He held up his hands in the shape of a T. “I’m willing to do the girl thing today, but you have to take it slow, okay? Not so many questions.”
To be honest, he didn’t have any answers. Mostly because he’d never really thought about the situation from Ronan’s perspective. When he and Del and Nick had found out last fall, they’d had to deal with who Ronan was, or wasn’t. Not that having a different mother made any difference in the siblings’ relationship. They were brothers and they would always be brothers.
“Sorry. I’m just shocked. Poor Ronan. That had to have been tough for him. And Mathias. I mean they were a team. Special by virtue of being twins. Now that’s gone forever.”
“There’s a cheerful thought.”
“But it’s true.”
Not something he wanted dwell on, he thought to himself. Families were complicated—his more so than most. At least that was his impression. Maybe not. Maybe everyone else was dealing with the same level of crap.
“Do you and Nick ever talk about it?” she asked.
“No.”
“Because you’re men and men don’t have those kinds of conversations?”
He nodded and picked up the pitcher to fill their glasses.
“Maybe it would help.”
He finished pouring and put down the pitcher. “There’s not a problem.”
“Of course there is. Are you seriously going to tell me that your two brothers taking off like that is okay?”
She had a point, not that he wanted to admit it. “Mathias and Ronan have each other. I worry more about Nick.”
The words were unexpected and made him want to swear. Where had they come from?
“Why?” she asked gently.
Hell. “Because he’s not as happy as he seems. He’s working as a manager at The Man Cave, but in his spare time he’s hiding out in his secret art studio. I know he’s doing all kinds of things up there, but he won’t talk about it. He doesn’t want Dad to know. God knows what the great Ceallach would say. How he would be pissed and bring Nick down. Yes, he wants his son to be an artist, but not one better than him.”
Shelby put her hand on his arm. “You should talk to Nick.”
“No.”
“It would help.”
“No.”
“You’re so stubborn. Guys need love, too.”
“Is this really what women do when they get together?”
“Uh-huh. We talk about our problems and our feelings. It’s cathartic.”
“It’s a nightmare.”
She smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”
“If I do, I’ll start to grow breasts.”
The smile broadened. “That’s very sexist of you.”
“I’m okay with that.”
She laughed and took another chip. Conversation shifted to the upcoming Cabin Fever Days and the ice sculptures taking shape in the park.
Later, when they’d left the bar and gone their separate ways, Aidan told himself that while he could go his whole life without having another afternoon like that, he had to admit talking about stuff was kind of good. He felt...relieved somehow. Not that he would share that piece of information with anyone. Ever.
