Romance Me (Boxed Set) (11 page)

“Lisa Mortan? Is that you, hon?” A lady shuffled past a polished wood side table and hugged her. “You weren’t due until tomorrow. Did you come straight here?”

“Judy Gaylord?” Lisa asked. The woman’s embrace could crack the spine of a bear. She definitely contained more strength than the woman of sixty-six years Lisa had expected to meet. Heck, with her auburn hair, bright blue eyes, and porcelain skin, she didn’t look a day over forty-five. The pictures on Facebook hadn’t done her justice.

“Yes, darling.” Judy crossed her arms over her slight frame. “Now, why are you here? You should be resting after that drive.”

“I wanted to stop in and meet you in person…partner. Also, I figured we’d have a ton of work to do. I see you’ve already managed to unpack and stage most of the shop.”

“We can change anything you like,” she offered.

“No. It looks amazing.” Lisa smiled. “But you shouldn’t have done all this work yourself.” Lisa had been concerned the older woman would only be good for pointing out estate sales and other great finds in the region, but it appeared she was worth a lot more to the store than that.

“It was no trouble. I’m not that old, you know. Besides, my son did most of the unpacking and moving. I believe I mentioned him last time we spoke.”

Lisa remembered. Judy had spoken often about him and shared photos of the dark haired, blue eyed dream of a human being. She held up her hands. “I didn’t mean…”

“No worries, dear. Most women my age are in their dotage, but I tend to stay active. I won’t kick off on you any time soon.” Judy chuckled. “Come, have some coffee. It’ll warm you up.”

Lisa’s mouth watered at the thought of her heavenly vice coating her scratchy throat with warm, delicious, joy. Then she frowned. “I’d love to, but I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh? I thought you were a coffee addict who drank all those froufrou drinks at Starbucks all the time.”

“Yes, well, I’m trying to give up caffeine.” Lisa straightened. It wasn’t a lie…technically.

“Oh, I see. Well, good thing I made decaf. My son says I’m irritatingly energetic when I drink caffeine. Come on.” Judy straightened a ceramic cat on a bookshelf and headed toward the back of the store and into a kitchen area. “Sit.” She waved Lisa toward a chair at a small, glass-topped dining table. A plate of muffins and scones sat temptingly in the middle.

Just as Lisa was sitting down, the bell jingled once more and she shot to her feet again, feeling like an intruder.

“Mother, I brought your laptop back,” a masculine voice called from the front of the store. “Can you try not to download every virus on the internet, please?” Heavy footsteps thudded against the shop’s worn wooden floor.

“Ah, speaking of my son…” Judy set down her coffee cup. “Oh, you guys just have to meet. I’ll be right back.” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel then dropped it on the counter before disappearing from the room. “It’s not my fault my laptop keeps getting sick,” she hollered.

Lisa snickered, but remained standing. Her stomach growled and she rotated the plate around, analyzing the soft, warm treats in front of her.

“When you receive an email from Elvis, you don’t want to click on the attachment. News flash, Elvis is dead.” Her son’s baritone voice echoed off the room’s high ceilings.

“I’m not so sure.” Judy shuffled into the kitchen and Lisa stiffened then turned around.

Judy’s son towered over the older woman. The thick winter coat he wore couldn’t hide his broad shoulders or thin waist. “Hi,” he beamed at her. In another life, she would have been interested in those boyish dimples and bright smile, but not now.

“Lisa, this is my son, Eric. Eric, this is Lisa Mortan,” Judy said, gesturing between them.

“It’s a pleasure.” He gripped Lisa’s hand in a firm, yet gentle shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Judy nudged him forward. “Take her coat, Eric.”

Lisa stepped back and pulled her coat tight around her. “I’m still a little chilled, but thanks. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Sit. Both of you,” Judy insisted.

“Mmm, I see you made your famous scones and muffins for Ms. Mortan,” Eric said.

“Lisa,” she corrected.

Eric squeezed around the table and took the seat next to her. “Well, Lisa. I’m glad you’re here. Mom only makes these for people she wants to impress, and I’m only her son.” His smile drooped into a playful pout, which he turned on Judy.

“Stop, now. You know that’s not true,” Judy scolded.

She made muffins for me?
No one had made any sort of baked goods for her since she was eight. Lisa swallowed down a soft cry that always tried to escape at the memory of her mother. Even today, her chest burned with longing to see her again. But she’d left without a word, so it didn’t matter.

If I decide to keep you, I’d never abandon you in the middle of the night.
When she realized her hand was rubbing her belly, she
quickly clasped her fingers together.

A small plate slid in front of her. “You have to try one of these. People all over Sweetwater County beg for the recipe, but Mom won’t part with it. Something about them being special.” Eric popped a piece into his mouth and moaned. “Wow, even better than I remember.” His silver-blue eyes glistened in the low light.

The smell conquered her will power and she moved a scone to the small plate in front of her. Breaking off a bite-sized piece, she tossed it into her mouth. A buttery, sweet explosion coated her tongue, and she closed her eyes, savoring every distinct ingredient.

Eric cleared his throat, startling her from the pleasant burst of flavor that had distracted her, and the memories it took her to. He stared at her, no, not at her. His eyes fixed on her wrist and the dark bruise that peeked out from under the cuff of her coat’s sleeve.

Chapter Two

Eric’s pulse raced at the black and blue mark, shaped like fingers, which Lisa attempted to cover. Clenching his teeth, he averted his gaze. Based on the size of the marks, a man had done it. Was she attacked? A boyfriend? Perhaps that was why she came to Sweetwater, to hide from an abusive husband. He reached out for a muffin, discreetly scanning her left hand. No wedding ring. Not even a tan line.

This was none of his business. Mom had decided to take on this venture, as insane as it was. Starting a business with a woman that she’d never met outside of cyberspace.

His mother had been right about one thing, though. Lisa Mortan was beautiful. Stuffing another muffin into his mouth, he concentrated on the warm, butter-nutty flavor and forced the thought of Lisa and her light floral fragrance from his mind.

“Thanks so much for helping unpack all of our merchandise,” Lisa said, her voice soft yet not wimpy or chirpy.

“My pleasure. It’s kept Mom busy…which is a good thing. The idle hands of an energetic woman, particularly when it’s your mother, are dangerous,” he teased.

His mother brought the coffee pot to the table. “Lisa just arrived from New York. Seeing as how she’s new in town, perhaps we could all get together for dinner and get to know each other better.”

“I need to return to the office.” Eric stood and nodded to Lisa, attempting to ignore her full lips, and big bright eyes. She pushed from the table to stand as well and her coat fell open, revealing the longest legs he’d ever seen. The heels she wore only accentuated every inch of them. Straight chestnut colored hair completed the look, shining under the Halogen pot lights he’d installed last week. “It was a pleasure, but I’m afraid I have a client meeting tonight. Don’t let Mom work you too hard.”

His mother narrowed her eyes with that go-ahead-and-run-away-coward look she’d perfected. Of course, even he had to admit she was right, but it didn’t matter. The last thing he wanted was a woman in his life. Not after what happened with his last girlfriend.

“I’ll walk you out,” his mother offered.

He thought about dissuading her, but she wouldn’t listen anyway. With one last glance at the beauty standing in the middle of the kitchen, he bolted, with a promise to bury himself in work and stay away from Lisa Mortan.

“I told you she was beautiful,” his mother whispered.

“Cultured, long legs, smart, and don’t forget educated. Yes, I’ve heard it all. A few times. It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested,” Eric barked. He didn’t mean to be rude, but Judy Gaylord needed a firm hand or she’d take over quick.

“I’m just saying.” His mother shrugged in a careless gesture.

Eric halted at the front door, clutching the handle. “Don’t. I’m not ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”

His mother’s small hand rested between his shoulder blades. “It’s been almost two years. It’s time to let her go.”

“No. I-I can’t.” He turned the knob.

“It wasn’t your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself.”

“Yes, it was. I ignored the woman I claimed to love, and when she needed me most, I wasn’t there.”

Judy stepped to his side. “You didn’t know about the baby.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s dead. The baby’s dead. There’s nothing else to talk about.” Eric shoved the door open. “I have to go.” He fled from the shop into the icy downpour, away from his mother’s meddling, from Lisa Mortan and her long firm legs, and from the torture of haunting memories.

Chapter Three

Lisa lifted what felt like the fiftieth box of the day and placed it on the dining table. Rubbing her shoulders, she eyed the last three and sighed. Who knew opening a store would be so tough? Even after all the work Judy and her son had done before she arrived, there was still more staging and unpacking to last another few days.

Judy patted Lisa’s back on her way to the cash register, where she deposited a decorative vase half-full of glass beads. “Girl, you look tired. Sit, take a load off.”

“I’m fine.” When Judy gave her a skeptical look, she said, “Seriously. I know not everyone can be as fit as you, but I’m hanging in there.”

Judy waved the compliment away with her hand then took a handful of sunflower-topped pens from the drawer and arranged them in the vase. “Oh, shush. We both know you’re half my age, and twice the leg height. You ever a model?”

Lisa laughed. “Me? A model? I don’t even like having my picture taken.” She slid the box cutter across the strip of packing tape and yanked the top of the box open, the ripping and popping sounds echoing how she felt. Her world had been torn apart and here she was in a small town, trying to put the pieces back together.

She glanced at all the beautiful merchandise and realized her dream of having a life outside the craziness of New York City, and all the judgment that went with it, was displayed elegantly around her. Perhaps she could stay here indefinitely and raise the baby, if this store worked out. It didn’t have to be a temporary investment, or a detour on her path in life. It could be her home.

Judy donned her coat and slipped her purse over her arm. “Going to collect a few items from the Mitchell’s. I’ll be back in an hour. Now, you leave whatever heavy lifting there is for Eric. He’ll be around on his lunch break. Feel free to take a break when he gets here,” Judy said, and Lisa could have sworn the older woman winked.

“I’m sure I can manage. I hate to keep bothering him. Besides, Judy, I think we need to talk.” Lisa tagged and placed eight linen napkins on the antique wooden top of a formal dining table, stalling to find the right words. “I get the impression you hope Eric and I will be…well, more than just friends. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

Judy retrieved her lipstick from her purse and smoothed burgundy across her mouth. “Oh, dear, don’t be silly. Besides, don’t worry about bothering him. He needs the distraction. And those legs are definitely a distraction.” She capped the lipstick and slipped it back into her purse.

“No, please don’t go there. Besides, he wouldn’t be interested.” Lisa didn’t want this endeavor to go belly up before they even started. She’d sunk all her savings, everything, into this in an attempt to flee New York, and Mark. Setting her only son up with an unwed mother would never go over well. Especially in a small town like Creekside―as, the internet put it, the
sleepy little town in the heart of the Bible belt
. The one place Mark was sure never to visit. He’d turned his back on God the day his father committed suicide, and would never set foot in a town like this.

“Why not? You’re tall, green eyed, and have the silken chocolate brown mane of a prize pony.” Judy waved her hand once more then hurried to the door. “What guy wouldn’t want you?” She disappeared before Lisa could even open her mouth to reply.

She stared after the older woman, her mouth and throat gone dry.
Only the father of my child.
She knew she had to tell Judy soon. Maybe if they could get through the opening, and let a few weeks go by then… Judy would know her better and not want to run away screaming. Then she could help Lisa find the perfect parents to raise her baby before she returned to New York. If there were good parents anywhere, they had to be in this town.

The door clicked shut, giving Lisa the excuse to keep her secret a little longer. She rubbed her belly and sat in the chair by the side table, pushing another small box around with her toe.

All of this was so insane. Perhaps Mark was right. Maybe she had no business having a baby.
Perhaps I should have an
… Her stomach rolled at the thought. No.
I couldn’t do it.
Even if she had the baby and gave it up for adoption, it was better than terminating. “I can’t just get rid of you like an out of season shoe. No matter how much Mark protested—” She swallowed. “—and threatened.” Her hand slipped from her belly to her wrist, the bruise only a pale yellow now.