Charming for Mother's Day (A Calendar Girls Novella) (7 page)

             
Of course he smiled with delicious wickedness as he said the last two words. I had no options at all. He’d trapped me good. And we both knew it. Still, I’d choose the lesser of the two evils.

             
“I guess you’re sticking around here then because the bus won’t be making the loop again until 1:40.”

             
He inched closer, that familiar scent of lemons dancing through my nose, and speeding up my heart rate. “That’s a long time from now. Why don’t you just let me drive you home?”

             
“I told you last week and the week before that, Jack
expects
me at the bus stop. He’ll worry if I’m not there.”

             
He blew out an exasperated breath. “Bull. What would he do if you called in sick one night? Or did you always call him after you cleared the night off with Sidney?”

             
If he meant to make me feel foolish, he failed. I shrugged and told him the truth. “I dunno. I’ve never called in sick.”

             
Thunder boomed outside, rattling the windows behind me. Seconds later, lightning spilled white light between us. Disbelief registered in his wide eyes and slack jaw. “Never? In six years, you’ve never missed a day of work?”

             
“Nope.”

             
He gave me a quirk of a smile and huffed. “No wonder Sidney said you were the best. You’re like the patron saint of maître d’s.”

             
“I am not,” I retorted. “I’m not Wonder Woman or anything. I work because I have to. Even when I’m sick. Some of us don’t have a trust fund to fall back on.” The words were a challenge, a reminder of the vast differences between us.

             
“Most of us don’t,” he replied, appearing unfazed. “But that’s one of the problems I plan to rectify in this place. Why’d you marry Robert Soto?”

             
I blinked. “Huh?”

             
The non-sequitur threw me. Score one for him. If he licked his finger and made an air point, though, I’d have to club him with a hurricane lamp.

             
“You heard me. Why?”

             
“That’s none of your business.”

             
“I think it is.” He kicked a chair out from behind the nearest bistro table and sat, facing me, arms folded over his chest. “He was bad news, Lucie. I know you always stuck up for him, but I knew a girl he dated. She told me stuff about him. Nasty stuff.”

             
His uncanny knack for hitting too close to the truth had me stomping on whatever he planned to say next. “Wow. Imagine that. You and Rob Soto skimming from the same dating pool. And here I thought I was the only fish you both caught.”

             
“Cut the crap, Lucie.” His retort erupted harsh and hot, each word a stinging barb. “Did he hurt you?”
              I busied myself straightening out menus, but my hands trembled so violently, I fumbled them to the floor. Colin dove beside me to pick up the mess. On instinct, I gave a sharp cry and flinched before curling into myself.

             
Sucking in a sharp breath, Colin looked up at me, his eyes wide with shock. “Jesus, he did. How badly?”

             
Rather than answer him, I gathered up the leather-bound books and held them against my chest—a personal breastplate while I skooched farther from him. I only stopped sliding away when my back hit the foyer wall. At that point, I got to my shaky feet, my spine pressed to the wood paneling. “Don’t you have a girlfriend waiting for you? Your latest maid’s daughter, maybe?”

             
“I gave up maids’ daughters after you. No one else could compare.”

             
“I’m flattered.” My sarcastic edge almost sliced my tongue while the words left my mouth.

             
He tensed as he straightened to full height, his body stiffer than mine. “Jeez, I’m sorry, Lucie. If I’d have thought for one second you’d... and he’d... Does Sidney know?”

             
I left the wall to replace the fallen menus in their pile at my station. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

             
Silence built up between us—an invisible wall of bitterness.

             
“Come on,” he said with a defeated sigh. “I’ll take you home.”

             
“You go on.” I jerked my head toward the front entrance. “I’m taking the bus, remember?”
              “Don’t be an idiot, Luce. You’re in no condition to walk home right now. And that storm is really raging out there.” As if adding credence to his statement, thunder rumbled and another flash poured momentary white light into the darkened restaurant. “Why don’t you let me take you home?”

             
“Because, quite frankly, I don’t want you to know where I live.”

             
He winced and sucked in a sharp breath. “Ouch. That hurt.” He headed back to the bistro chair and plopped down, removed his cell phone from his pocket, and focused on the screen as it lit up. His lips pursed in disappointment.

             
I told myself I wouldn’t give in to his emotional blackmail. When I was young and stupid, that pouting pose would have melted my resolve. I would’ve turned cartwheels to cheer him up when he gave me that look. Not anymore. I knew the game now. I was a mother, immune to toddler tantrums.

             
“Why don’t you go home?” I kept my tone bland, banal. “Take advantage of your extra...” I glanced at my watch: 1:20 a.m. “...half hour of sleep before it disappears.”

             
“No,” he replied without looking up or changing expression—playing martyr to the max. “I’ll wait with you.”

             
Oh, for crying out loud! I slammed my fist onto my maître d’ podium. Why did he insist on becoming my personal leech? “Look, Colin, I don’t know how to make this any plainer, except to come right out with it. Our working relationship would go a lot smoother if you treated me the way you treated all the other employees. That would mean no mentions of our past—especially about Rob—no kisses or flirtation, and no offers to drive me around. Okay?”

             
“So that’s what you consider the perfect business relationship? A boss who doesn’t give a damn about his employees or their safety?” Bruce the shark returned to his face, a sly smile and know-it-all indulgence. “Let me get this straight. In the six years you worked for Sidney, he never drove you home, even in the worst weather?”

             
“Of course he did,” I exclaimed before I thought about the repercussions. “But that was different.”

             
He leaned back, those long legs thrust out toward me like arrows of accusation. “How?”

             
“Sidney’s not just my boss; he’s my father-in-law. But even so, he only drove me home on nights when Ariana stayed at the restaurant until closing.” A total lie, but Colin didn’t know that.

             
He said nothing for a long moment, and I stifled my joy. There’d be plenty of time for celebrating my victory when he finally left me alone.

             
Finally, he stood and faced me, his eyes dark and solemn. “I don’t believe you. I’m gonna let you slide for now, but don’t think I’ve given up. You should know me better than that.”

             
Yeah, I did.

~~~~

              The short ride to the bus stop only thickened the tension between us. I sat as close to the passenger door as I could, almost tucked into the storage pocket. I wouldn’t even look at Colin, choosing instead to stare out the window while rain pelted the glass and lightning flashed sporadic patches in the black night.  Dark store fronts zipped past the car in hushed splashes. I hated the darkness, which brought back too many ugly memories.

             
“You sure I can’t just drive you straight home?” Colin asked as he pulled the car to the curb across the street from the bus stop.

             
Before he managed to shift into park, I opened the door and slid my feet onto the wet asphalt. “Nope. I’m fine.” The frigid wind whipped my pants around my legs.

             
“Why don’t you at least sit here where it’s warm and dry until the bus shows up?” He jerked his head toward the sheltered canopy with its lone bench and the blown-up image of the real estate lady on the wall facing oncoming traffic. “I can’t imagine that Plexiglass hood gives you much protection when the wind and rain are this heavy.”

             
“Nope,” I repeated and slammed the door closed on any additional argument he might try. Bending, I waved bye-bye through the window and proceeded to the meager weather shield where I ducked for cover from the torrential rain and blustery wind.

             
Still, Colin sat there inside the car, engine idling, white smoke puffing from the tailpipe: a silent admonishment that stubborn pride prevented me from staying warm and comfortable on a horrible stormy night. Let him glare, let him hover, let him stew in his own juices. I would continue to keep distance between us. I had to.

             
Jack showed up right on time, and the minute the doors hissed open, I climbed aboard with my fare in my hand. I refused to glance over my shoulder to watch Colin pull away. “Morning, Jack.”

             
“Good morning, Lucie. You’re early. How are you today?”

             
“Tired,” I admitted. Tired of the cold, tired of the late nights, tired of fighting with Colin.

             
“Well, you just settle in and close your eyes. If you fall asleep, I’ll wake you when we get to your stop.”

             
“Thanks.” I smiled. “I just might take you up on that offer.” I wouldn’t, but I didn’t care to explain I could only fall asleep in a locked room with a dim light on and my daughter safely a few feet away from me.

             
“Go for it.”

             
I sat, plopped my bag on my lap, leaned my head back, and picked up my book. Soon, the bad guy in the story would be caught and punished—so much neater than real life.

             
To my surprise, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember was an ear-splitting squeal as I lurched sideways, slamming my shoulder and head against the window on my left.

Chapter 6

Lucinda

             
I woke up late the next day to the sound of my daughter’s giggles, followed by masculine chuckles. My brain went into overdrive. A man? In my house? Who? Lying still to avoid inflicting undue pain on my bruised side, I strained to identify the testosterone in the next room. I needn’t have bothered.

             
“Grandpa!” Ariana shouted. “That’s not fair. The
beast
dances with Belle. Not Lumiere.”

             
Sight unseen, I now knew exactly what was going on in my kitchen.
Beauty and the Beast
, an Ariana Soto production.

             
My father-in-law laughed again. “Why do I have to be some old candelabra anyway? Why can’t I be the beast?”

             
“Because,” Ariana replied with all the smugness of an eight-year-old Disney expert, “Chef Colin dances better than you.”

             
I smiled. God, that child of mine was the bossiest—

             
Wait. What? Chef Colin?

             
He wouldn’t dare.

             
His words from last night drifted into my slow-to-wake brain.
Don’t think I’ve given up.

             
Okay, so yeah, he would dare. But...how? Only one way to find out. I’d have to confront him. Again.

I inched my way out of bed and hobbled to the
corner where I grabbed a clean pair of sweats from the hamper. My one-story rental home in Mill Village was fifteen minutes from tony Snug Harbor, but worlds away, status-wise. Ariana and I shared the master bedroom—partly due to space limitations, but also because I couldn’t bear to have her out of my sight at night. Mom had the room across the hall. Not the ideal situation, but at least each of us felt secure.

             
I stripped off the loose pajamas I’d donned before crawling into bed and, between sucking in breaths against the pain, pulled the pink sweatshirt over my head. I had to sit and allow my overstimulated nerve endings time to calm again before I could push my legs into the dove gray fleece pants. I didn’t bother with underwear, deodorant, or a toothbrush. The pain in my upper body prevented me from performing the most mundane morning activities. If Colin wanted a beauty queen, he should have called ahead. He was about to see me at my worst.