Gillian's Do-Over (29 page)

“
Benjie. Why did you run off?” The dog scrambled to his feet and followed the boy.

Matt settled his helmet on his head and strapped it into place. “
I’ll see you tonight.” He climbed on his bike and headed down the trail without a backward glance.

Matt pushed hard as he pedaled up the steepest hill, his leg muscles screaming objections, his chest heaving. When he topped the ridge, he slowed to a stop, his legs feeling like rubber. He laid the bike down and sprawled next to it, the slight dampness of the ground cooling his overheated back.

TJ had said to ask Gillian out, to
confirm that what Matt felt whenever they were together was real, something she felt, too. If she was meeting men online, maybe he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion when he’d seen that guy on her porch weeks ago. He should have asked what site she was using. But she had agreed to go to dinner with him. Tonight.

He rubbed his left hand, noting idly that the indentation where his wedding ring had been seemed less obvious now.
Maybe Wes was right. It was time he stepped out of his comfort zone, got out of the house more, started circulating. Dinner with Gillian would be his second attempt at jumping into the social swim. The last bar association dinner had been a boring endurance run two hours too long after TJ had introduced him to a woman who’d made it clear she wanted more than a help up the stairs when she’d stumbled at the entry. She did nothing for him. Not like Gillian. When he thought of their upcoming dinner, body parts started humming, his heart and elsewhere, too.

Matt rolled over, brushed the leaves off the back of his legs and picked up his bike. Time to get
home. Maybe he’d look for her online. Scan who else was there, too.

Gillian was ready when Matt rang the doorbell. He was attentive as he walked her to his car and settled her in the seat.

“You look lovely,” he complimented her and turned the key to start the car.

“Thank you.” She smoothed the front of her black dress, relieved at his words. She’d worried that the black dress she’d chosen with bare shoulders and a high neck might be too severe, one reason she’d chosen to wear the multi-strand pearl necklace to soften the look of the dress.

When they arrived at the restaurant, she smiled to herself. Years ago, she’d been here for an end-of-year party with Nick and her workmates. The soft lighting at each of
the tables appealed to her, giving each table a sense of privacy. The music playing in the background offered just enough ambient sound to soothe. Matt seated her so that she had an unobstructed view of the Arboretum.

Their conversation through dinner was relax
ed even as she learned more about his sons. Matt seemed intent on sharing bits and pieces of his life with her, as if he wanted her to see him as someone other than her attorney—
former
, she reminded herself. In return, she answered his questions about her life. He laughed quietly when she told him what had happened at Quinn’s rehearsal dinner and how happy she was that her son was now married, that she now had a daughter in Bianca.

She was quiet as they drove back to her house.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Matt asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied
. The dinner had been lovely, their conversation pleasant. But all she could think about was kissing him, touching him, reliving those zings that never stopped when he’d brushed her shoulder and settled her wrap around her when they’d left the restaurant or handing her into the car.

Matt shut off the car and went around to let her out. He walked her to her door.

“Thank you for tonight, Gillian. I enjoyed myself. I hope you did, too.” He leaned forward.

She knew he was going to kiss her. Visions of that kiss they’d shared in the park came back to her in a rush, a kiss she’d been hoping—earlier in the evening—would be repeated. Now she
wondered if that was wise. Maybe it was too soon for them to share a kiss, not one generated by her desire to comfort him after his wife’s death. She tilted her cheek in his direction as he closed the distance between them.

Matt halted his forward movement
ever so slightly. “I don’t just want your cheek.” His hands came up and captured her cheeks, her skin burning at his touch.

His lips brushed hers, tentative for a second before firming and pressing more deliberately as they captured her mouth. His hands slid away from her cheeks, down to her shoulders, and she felt Matt pull her close so that they were pressed against each other from chest to knee. She wasn’t sure if her lightheadedness was from lack of breathing or the rapidity of her pulse. All she knew for sure was that she didn’t want the kiss to stop, even if she fainted dead away in the midst of it.

Matt finally eased away, his gaze on her face. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice scratchy. “We need to do this again.”

Before she could ask if he meant the kiss—
yes, again and again!
—he clarified. “Dinner. I’ll call you. Again.”

She nodded. She relived their dinner conversation and that mind-blowing kiss half the night.

Matt entered the house and walked upstairs, not sure how he’d found his way home after the kiss on Gillian’s porch that had generated heat
sufficient to fire the universe. What he’d felt at the park that day when she’d acknowledged Marnie’s death was nothing compared to this one. He’d been meaning to mention that time in the park, to ask Gillian if he could have a do-over, but the words never came. His mind had blanked out on him. All he’d been able to think of was the feel of her lips on his, the scent of her hair he still detected on his hands from having held her face, the feel of her softness pressed against him, what he’d wanted to do besides kiss her.

He pulled off his shirt and tossed it into the clothes hamper. He stepped out of his suit pants and hung them in the closet. He picked up the jacket he’d tossed on the bed earlier and hung
it up, too. In his boxers and T-shirt, he sat on the edge of the bed, a bed that had been too big for one person, too lonely for too many months, more than three years. His hand brushed along on the top of the cover. When had he replaced the pale pink satiny one Marnie loved with a dark blue, more manly bed cover? He couldn’t recall. He wondered idly what Gillian would think of his bed as he folded the cover back, the blankets, too. It was too warm tonight to need anything but a sheet.

The extension phone next to the bed jangled, interrupting his imaginings that had accompanied his erection.

“Hello?” he asked, hoping it might be Gillian, hoping it wasn’t bad news about Wes.

“You mad that I called so late?”

“TJ. What do you want?”

“Hey, don’t bite my head off. I just wanted to see how things went. That dinner you said you were going to have with
Ms. Griffiths. To see if, you know. Mutual feelings and all that.”

“You remind me of my
grandmother.”

“How’s that?”

“She was always calling my mother to ask how my dates went when I was in high school.”

“Oh.” TJ chuckled. “Well,
how was it?”

“It went.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

Matt slid out of his boxers and climbed under the
sheet. “That’s about it.”

“Oh.” TJ
breathed into the phone. “Well, then I guess it went well.”

“It’s late, TJ.”
Matt pulled one arm out of his T-shirt, shifted the phone to his other ear and pulled his other arm out of the sleeve.

“Okay. Talk to you later.”

Matt lay back against the pillow, his t-shirt still draped around his neck. He chuckled and pulled off the garment, tossing it in the general direction of the closet. He’d take care of it tomorrow. He burrowed deeper under the sheet and lay there, reliving that kiss on Gillian’s porch, aware that the sheet below his waist now resembled a tent.

Chapter 19

A week after her dinner date with Matt, Gillian sat across from Lauren. “I need to go.” She grabbed her purse. It was time to meet Hal.

“Are you sure you want to go through with th
is?” Lauren asked. “After what you said about dinner with Matt?”

“
I had no idea that dinner was going to be so nice.” She sighed. “And I promised Hal.”

“You
agreed
. That wasn’t exactly a promise.”

Lauren was right. Her
dinner with Matt had diminished her interest in striking up a friendship with Hal over coffee, but the man had asked and she hadn’t said no.

“It probably won’t amount to much. I said I would meet him
for coffee.” She walked out of the house with Lauren, who waved from her front porch.

“Fill me in when you get back.”

Gillian
opened her car door and stepped out, glad she’d parked at the back of the building where there were several open spaces. She walked around the side of the building, looking through the windows for a man in a cowboy hat. None of the people in the easy chairs wore hats of any kind, nor did they look to be the right age. But, what
was
his age? He’d never said and it wasn’t listed on his profile. She was reminded again of Quinn’s urging that she do a background check, something she’d forgotten in the good news from Cammie, who wanted more pictures, especially watercolors.

Gillian
entered the coffee shop and wandered inside to the seats near the faux fireplace. A man stood up, his smile wide as he took off his cowboy hat.
Hal
. The man was tall, taller than she expected. Six feet six, maybe?
Brown eyes, just like he said, and brown hair, what there was of it.
His broad forehead seemed paler than the rest of his face. Maybe he wore a hat whenever he was out in the sun. She huffed out a quick puff of air to calm her nerves then sucked it in again. She wiped her right hand quickly down the leg of her linen slacks to rid her palm of dampness.

“Hello, Hal. Nice to see you.
I’m Gillian.” His grip was strong, too strong as the bones in her hands rubbed together uncomfortably. Maybe he was nervous, too.

“Hello, yourself. Your picture doesn’t do you justice,
woman. I think I’ve hit the jackpot. Have a seat. What’s your poison? Latte, frappuccino, something else?”

“
Just black coffee, single shot.”

“Be right back.” He strode to the order desk.

Gillian admired his backside. He was clad in well-fitting jeans and a black Western-cut shirt. The man wore his clothes like a cowboy, or did he just enjoy Western clothes? The way his shirt fit suggested that he must work out. Broad shoulders, slim waist, and those long long legs. But he was wearing regular shoes. Wouldn’t a real cowboy wear boots? And his hands were a bit too soft. Wouldn’t a cowboy have calluses, perhaps a rope burn or two?

He returned with their drinks in hand. “Here you go.
”

“Thank you.”
The questions Quinn had asked about her other online dates, flashed in her brain. “So, what do you do for a living, Hal?”

His eyes darted from his drink to her face. “Oh. Well, I guess you could say I’m retired now.” He took a gulp of his extra-tall drink. “Business. I used to be in business. But not anymore. Got out with the downturn. No sense losing money, right
?” He barked out a harsh laugh. “What about you?”

“Me
too.”

She mentioned how she’d begun selling pictures and note cards and he s
eemed quite interested when he asked her to describe her watercolors.

She debated asking for details
about what he’d done before the downturn and decided against it. “You live here now? In Seattle, I mean?”

“Up north a bit.
Near Marysville.”

She nodded.
I thought he said Seattle in his email. Maybe that was someone else.
“But you prefer to shop at Northgate instead of the Everett Mall?” It was so much closer to where he lived. On the other hand, maybe his mother lived in Seattle, closer to Northgate.

Hal hesitated before explaining,
“My mother has always preferred the stores here.”

“Did you find the gift you were looking for?”

“Not yet. Maybe afterward, you could help me with that.”

Why is he looking at me like that?
Something told her to be cautious, to take things slowly. She’d promised Lauren she’d be back home by two, and it gave her an excuse to duck out quickly if this meet-and-greet didn’t go well. Best to stay casual, keep this meeting short. “I’m not sure I’ll have time for that. But, if you tell me what you’re looking for, I could suggest what stores to go to. I’ve shopped here before. Many times, actually.”

He was glancing at her and away as if trying to figure why she had slid her seat
farther from their table. “Usually, I just sort of fly by the seat of my pants when it comes to gifts. If I see something I think she’d like, I go with it.” He took another gulp of his drink and scooted closer to her.

“Hmm
. Well, there are several gift shops on the first level that you might want to try. The Hallmark store has nice things. Or one of the larger department stores. A scarf might be nice.” She set her half-finished drink on the table.

“Good suggestion. I wouldn’t have thought of that.” He peered at her. “So, how long have you been
cruising online?”

Cruising? That’s what he call
s it?
“A few months.”

“And no one’s snapped you up yet?”

Gillian sat back in her chair. Where was he going with this? Her cell phone chimed in her purse. She reached in and fumbled for it. “Excuse me, Hal,” relieved that their conversation had been interrupted.

“Sure.”

She felt his eyes on her as she glanced at the phone. Quinn. She’d neglected to return his call. Calls. He’d left several in the past week.

“Mom. You never got back to me.
Or Bianca, either. About the trust.”

“I’m sorry about that.
I’ve been really busy. You know. Cammie and my pictures. I told you about her request for more of them.”
And dinner with Matt.
But Quinn didn’t know about that. “I’m in a meeting at the moment. Can I call you back?”

“We
have
to talk about this trust. It’s important.”

“Quinn. I need to call you back
.”

“Do that.” He hung up.

Seconds after she ended Quinn’s call, her cell phone buzzed again, this time with a text message.
Lauren. Checking on me. Right on schedule.
Her call was the excuse Gillian was looking for.

She frowned after shutting off her phone.
“Hal, I’m afraid I have to cut this short. That was my son. Another message, too, from my neighbor. She never texts unless she really needs me. I guess this just isn’t my day for having coffee after church.”

The man jiggled the keys in his pocket.

Was he nervous, too? Disappointed that she was cutting short their coffee date?

“
Hmm. Well, I’d like to see you again, take up where we left off. How about if I pick you up at your place? We could go to dinner. Give us a chance to talk some more. This little meeting wasn’t nearly long enough.”

She
gulped down the last of her latte. “Fine.” She fished in her purse again and pulled out a business card, the one Cammie had insisted she carry. The card’s pastel stripe of color highlighted the words, “Gillian’s Watercolors and Note Cards,” along with the address of
Cammie’s Closet
. On the back of the card, Gillian wrote her home address and phone number. “Call me and tell me what time. I need to go.” She handed him the card and stood up. “Thanks for the coffee.” Distracted by the questions Quinn was sure to ask, she added, “I’m sorry I have to leave so soon. Good luck finding a gift for your mother.”

He nodded. “I’ll
call you later.”

Only after she was in the car and headed home did she remember
that she’d given Hal her home address.
Oh dear. Well, what’s done is done.
The man seemed harmless enough, though kind of hard to read, just interested in her artwork.

That evening, Gillian opened the door for Bianca, who gave her a slightly distracted smile. Right behind her, Quinn strode into the house, his brow furrowed. He was waving his copy of the trust documents in his hand.

Opting to hope
Quinn had a minimum of questions, she smiled and asked, “So, you read over what I sent you?”

“Why did you do this
, Mom? You know you didn’t have to.”

Gillian backed up. “
What do you mean? Support your family after I’m gone? I have every right, just like Grams did when she left us her house and her estate.”

“I told him you were j
ust showing your love,” Bianca interjected.

Gillian pulled the fruit basket out of the refrigerator and handed an apple to Quinn and
another to Bianca. She’d suspected he might object to certain portions, but now he was acting like she had done him a disservice.

Time to show she had some backbone.
“You’ve had those papers for at least a month. Why did you wait until now to kick up a fuss?” She glared back at him. Before he could reply, she added, “I just realized something. Ever since Nick fired me, you’ve acted like I was a child, couldn’t take care of myself. You insisted that I go with you on that rafting trip, as if I couldn’t take a vacation on my own. You said I shouldn’t meet men I saw on that online dating site, even though that’s how you met Bianca. The only thing you’ve been happy about lately is my artwork and how it’s selling. Or was it because you figured that would keep me out of trouble and
off
the internet?” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m an adult, Quinn. You don’t have to baby me.”

At his abashed look
, Gillian forced herself to take a seat in the strained silence that followed.

Gillian
took a deliberately slow breath and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry. Maybe we could just discuss this. Quietly.” She gazed at Bianca, who was staring at her shoes. They looked new. “I’m sorry I blew up like that. You first, Bianca dear. You’re a lawyer. What do
you
think of my trust, how it’s set up?”

Her daughter-in-law grasped her apple in both hands. “It was well-written, with a minimum of
legal jargon. I have just a couple of questions, but I’d rather take them up with the attorney who put this together for you, if you don’t mind. Perhaps—”

Quinn interrupted. “Mom, y
ou’re too young to be worried about our children. Which don’t even exist yet. And, as for you being an organ donor—”

“
I thought you
wanted
children.” She threw a quick glance at Quinn and then back at Bianca, who was studying the skin of her apple as if it held magical powers. “You
know
I’ve always felt that if anyone could use my organs after I’m dead, it was fine with me. Do you know how many people die waiting for a liver or a kidney, how many people could see again, if only a cornea was available? Besides, that’s not a new directive. It was in my original will.” She whirled around and reached for her purse, dug for her wallet and opened it. “See here? I’ve had that notification about being an organ donor on my driver’s license for years!”

“I think Quinn
just doesn’t like thinking of you passing away.” Bianca tried to soothe.

“Well, he doesn’t
have
to think about it. I just want to help take care of your babies after I’m gone. It’s my right as their
grand
mother.” Gillian reached for the apple she’d left on the counter and bit into it, almost choking when she realized she’d bitten off a larger chunk than expected.

Quinn tosse
d his apple core into the wastebasket. “Are you still using that online site?”

Gillian wiped her mouth.
“Why are you changing the subject?”

“You’ve made it
pretty clear the other topic is closed. That you’re not going to change your mind.”

“Not so much closed as taken care of.” She reached
across the table and patted her son’s hand. “I know you care about me, honey. But don’t worry. I’m not about to die on you tonight or even tomorrow. I just wanted to get everything in order. That way, I won’t worry about it. Can’t we all just … move on? Talk about something more pleasant?” She sat back in her chair and took another, smaller, bite of her apple.

Neither Quinn nor Bianca said a word.

“As for my online emails, yes, I’m still doing that.” But no way was she going to tell him about Hal Engelmann. “Not that it’s been all that positive an experience. As far as I can tell, most of those men are losers.” She gave a wry chuckle. “One man asked if I was interrogating him when I asked how long he’d been divorced.”