Love By Accident (7 page)

He shrugged. "You didn't look great when I dropped you off this morning. I was worried."

"I seem to be attracting that emotion a lot tonight. But I'm fine." Since he didn't look convinced, she placed her hand on his arm. "Really."

His smile oozed charm. "Good enough to let me take you to supper?"

At the mention of food her stomach sat up and took notice. For the first time in days, she suddenly wanted to eat. But the gleam in his eye needed to be addressed.

"If we go, Nick, it's not a date. It's two friends going out to supper."

"Did I say it was a date?"

"You didn't have to. Nick, you know I'm not interested in having a boyfriend."

Finally the gleam faded. "I know, Lauren. You tell me every chance you get."

"I just don't want you to get your hopes up, or think I'm leading you on."

"No chance of that," he guffawed but his smile was back in place. "Come on,
friend
, let's go eat."

***

Nick chose a nice pasta/steak/seafood place in town. Tables were strategically placed so there wasn't an aisle per se, and waitresses and customers alike couldn't walk a straight line anywhere. It made a nicer, more intimate atmosphere but Lauren was glad she didn't have to work there; her feet would hurt like hell by the end of a shift.

The hostess led them to a private booth toward the back, though really anywhere would have been private. Other than one occupied booth, they had the place to themselves. Soft Italian music waltzed through unseen speakers and mini lanterns glowed on every table top. The savory smell of fresh, soft, garlic bread had Lauren's mouth watering before she even sat.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" the petite brunette asked them.

"Iced tea, please. Lauren?"

"Pepsi, thanks."

They were left to peruse the menus, which were full of tantalizing pictures, making the decision even harder. In the end, Nick ordered the lasagna and Lauren chose the salmon special. The waitress left them a basket of warm rolls and sauntered off to the kitchen to place their order.

"How's Kyle doing these days? Winning lots of games?" Lauren asked.

Kyle was Nick's little brother and Lauren knew how well he did playing hockey because Nick talked about him. A lot. Though they had different fathers, Nick had never once referred to Kyle as his half-brother. They were siblings, period. He took great pride in his little brother and often made the ninety minute drive home to visit.

Sometimes Nick picked Kyle up and brought him back to Jasper for the weekend. Sometimes the three of them watched movies or went swimming.

Nick's gaze dropped to his drink, where the lemon had belly-flopped into his tea.

"Hockey is keeping him going. He's having a hard time coping with Mom's diagnosis."

"I'm so sorry, Nick. I can't imagine what you're both going through."

Her parents were fit and healthy, spending half their year in Arizona like many retired Canadians. From what she'd been told, Gil hadn't suffered. Matt had, of course, but his prognosis had never been life-threatening. And of course, she hadn't been around to witness his struggle. Lauren shook her head. That was over, what Nick was going through was happening now.

"They caught it early, didn't they?"

He swirled his lemon around with his straw. "Yeah. So they say, but I've known too many people who've lost the battle to cancer to be optimistic."

"Anything I can do?" Lauren asked.

Nick's troubled eyes met hers. "Thanks, but I'm handling it."

Their meals came shortly afterward, and when the waitress left she appeared to take Nick's worries with her. The conversation remained light and easy until the waitress had cleared their plates and left the tab. Both Nick and Lauren reached for it. Nick's hand closed over the leather folder first.

"I've got it."

"No you don't," she said, managing to catch a hold of the corner. "I'll pay my own meal."

"Tough, it's my treat," Nick answered, tugging the folder free of Lauren's grasp.

"God, you're stubborn."

"Well, if you said yes once in a while, maybe I wouldn't have to be."

She pulled her hand away.

"Nick, you agreed..."

"I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry. But we get along well, we're both single and I'm attracted to you, Lauren. I don't see why it can't be more."

She couldn't keep doing this. It was only hurting them both. And with Matt in town...

Lauren opened her purse, dropped a twenty on the table and slid out of the booth.

"Lauren, wait," Nick said as he too left the booth. "I'm sorry."

"So you keep saying, but you keep pushing anyway. And every time you do, it hurts us both. I can't keep doing this, I won't. Especially now that--" She caught herself in time, before she could say Matt's name. Since Matt's name hadn't come up in conversation, she knew Nick wasn't aware she and Matt knew each other. For simplicity's sake, it was better Nick continued to be unaware.

"
Now that
what?" Nick asked.

"Nothing," Lauren hurriedly answered. "I just don't want to keep hurting you."

Nick rolled his eyes. "If you found someone else, Lauren, just say it."

"I didn't!" she exclaimed. Sure, Matt was back and it was complicated, but it wasn't as though she were interested in him.

The moment in Ted's doorway popped into her head and her belly clutched, remembering how Matt's cologne had smelled, how his gaze had lingered on her hips.

Did they suddenly turn the heat up, she wondered.

"Your blush says otherwise, Lauren." Nick sighed. "Come on, I'll take you home."

***

Matt's morning had started up shit creek and with each breath he took, he floated further downstream. First he'd barely slept for imagining having had a conversation with a dead friend, which was, at about four a.m., the conclusion he'd come to. He'd imagined the whole damn thing. It couldn't be explained any other way because he was sane, he came from a long line of blue-blooded Skarpinskys, all of whom all had decks which contained a full fifty two cards, thank you very much.

So after that brilliant realization, when he'd finally fallen asleep, he'd done such a bang-up job of it he'd slept through his alarm clock. Yes sir, nothing said you hired the right man more than having him show up late the third day on the job. Nobody seemed to notice, however, and he'd settled into his office feeling that perhaps the day could yet be salvaged.

That small flake of hope frittered away when he glanced up and saw Nick looking downright perky as he crossed the room toward him.

So once again the current sped up and he was helpless to fight it. Downstream it was. In heavy rapids.

Wasn't it enough that Nick and Lauren were clearly in a relationship, that he'd had his hand on her ass? That, despite everything, Matt couldn't help wishing it had been
his
hand on Lauren's butt.

Trying hard to form his mouth into some semblance of a smile when Nick waved at him, Matt caught the edge of his desk smartly in the epicenter of his knee. White fireworks exploded in his eyes.

"You okay? I heard that whack, man. Must hurt like hell."

Matt squinted up through the pulsing pain, saw Nick leaning against the doorjamb, and thought to himself,
why me?

"It'll pass," Matt answered, not about to admit just how much it bloody stung. At least not to Nick, not when he'd no doubt take great joy in seeing the man who'd stolen his dream job hurting.

"Alright then, I'll see you later."

Then whistling--whistling of all damn things--Nick sauntered off, a man with no worries. Of course
his
knee hadn't just been whacked with what felt like a sledgehammer.
He
hadn't been late to work. And Matt would bet his damn Corvette Nick hadn't imagined a conversation with a dead guy.

"Fuck me," he muttered, leaning down to rub his sore leg.

A giggle and an "Ahem" came from the doorway of his office.

Matt closed his eyes, maybe if he was lucky he'd imagined that too.

"Sorry. I just wanted to give you these."

Guess not, Matt acknowledged, and turned to Danika, one of his part-time staff. Judging by the lovely pink splash on her barely twenty-two year old cheeks, she'd heard every word.

"Thanks, I'll look at them later."

She nodded and left. Matt, who'd yet to even have a cup of coffee, was suddenly desperate for some air. He'd do his rounds, grab a double-double, and with any luck by the time he got back to his office he'd feel like the earth was once again firmly beneath his feet.

***

Lauren jumped off her porch and breathed in the crisp apple-like smell of fall. God, she loved it. The bite of cool in the mornings and evenings, but with enough warmth to get by with a light jacket during the day. The burnt orange and reds of the leaves, the crunch they made under her hiking boots, the end of mosquito season.

With her hazing stick firmly in her hand, she headed out toward the school grounds. Not seeing any white ranger trucks, Lauren was able to relax and admire the few houses that had already decorated for Halloween. One specifically went all out every year. They had spider webs in the shrubs, small white bags complete with black eyes hung from the branches of their Weeping Willow out front. The bay window had hand-colored pumpkins and witches taped to it, and a black and orange wind sock fluttered from the covered porch.

She used to love Halloween, loved dressing up. She'd decorate the apartment corner to corner with witch and ghost candles, cardboard cut-outs of Frankenstein and double-jointed skeletons, carved at least three pumpkins and played the odd prank on the older kids. Gil would pass out the candy while she and Matt acted like children.

But it wasn't the same anymore. Nothing was. Which was why the decorations had remained packed away for the last four seasons. Because it would never be the same, it was easier to face the holiday in a totally different way than to be reminded at every turn of what would never be again.

A few kids who knew her waved from the playground and Lauren returned the greeting. She looked around the park, past the monkey bars and swings but there were no wandering ungulates to shoo away. The slight wind was cold on her cheeks but not unpleasant as she followed the main road, watching for elk and any sign of a ranger truck.

The sunrise stopped her momentarily as long golden fingers caressed their way up the granite to the snow-capped peaks. Evergreens went from hiding in dark shadows to standing as bright green sentinels.

From the corner of her eye she saw the white truck coming up behind her. Shit! Matt had threatened to charge her if she ever hazed again. And after their last encounter, she knew he was pissed off enough to do it, too. Her record didn't need
harassing wildlife
added to it. Without considering the consequences and out of time to come up with anything better, Lauren did the only thing she could think of. She threw the stick in the ditch and kept on walking.

The truck accelerated past her then cut across her path and stopped. Oh hell, she was in for it now.

Matt slammed out of his truck, his eyes hidden behind mirrored aviator sunglasses. Not that Lauren needed to see them in order to judge his mood. He stalked past her, his mouth so pinched his lips were nonexistent. He grabbed the stick from the dew-covered grass. The ribbons waved saucily in the breeze as he marched back to her.

"Drop something?"

She didn't see the point in denying it, not when he'd caught her red handed. "Look, it's no big deal-"

"Yes, Lauren, it
is
a big deal. What the hell kind of example are you setting? Do you want every school kid to make their own stick and go out on their own?"

"Of course not," she answered. "But I am trained."

He leaned close, his anger pulsated between them. "Wrong. You
were
trained." He tossed the stick into the back of his truck.

"Hey! That's mine," she yelled.

He ripped off his glasses; his gaze tore into her.

"You want to haze, Lauren, get your job back."

"I-- I can't."

"Then let it go." He pointed his folded sunglasses at her. "I catch you doing this again, or if any of my staff do, which includes your little boyfriend, you'll be charged." He strode back to his truck, stopped at the door. "Consider yourself warned," he said.

Matt jammed his sunglasses back on and dropped the truck into drive and floored it. He swore. In English and Ukrainian and a language he'd quite possibly invented.

"Shit man, that was harsh."

"Fuck!" Matt jammed on the brakes, sent the truck into a skid which almost took out a parked Beetle and a rusted-out half-ton before he got it back under control. Hands shaking, mouth drier than the morning after a tequila binge, Matt pulled over and cut the engine.