She's Just Right (A Fairy Tale Romance) (16 page)

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Authors: Diane Darcy

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BOOK: She's Just Right (A Fairy Tale Romance)
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Nick’s voicemail picked up and Honey immediately hung up and tried the office.
“Hello?”
“Michelle? Hi, it’s Honey. Do you know where Nick is?”
“Not right offhand.”
Michelle’s nonchalant tone had Honey gritting her teeth. She propped her feet on the desk, crossed her legs to rest one on the other, and took a calming breath. “Well, could you find him, please?”
“He’s not available. If you’d like, I can take a message.”
Honey narrowed her eyes. Nick made himself available whenever there was a deal in the works. “Tell Nick I want more information on this property deal in Redding or I’m finished with the whole thing. I want to know who it’s for, what it’s for, and why Nick wants the property in his name. Okay?”
“Got it.”
“Also, I’m staying at a hotel now.” Honey read off the phone number and room information.
“Got it.” Michelle laughed. “So what happened? Get kicked out of the cushy house? Clients could only stomach your goody-two-shoes act for one week? Do you need me to come and help you? Hold your hand? What do they think of you now, I wonder?”
“Goodbye, Michelle.” Honey hung up, but couldn’t help wondering what Trevor
did
think about her now. Running out hadn’t been gracious, but certainly necessary from her point-of-view.
She’d almost expected a call from him. Not that she would have answered. But still, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit miffed that he hadn’t even tried.
She sighed again, well aware that, after telling him not to, her attitude was completely unreasonable.
The phone rang and Honey picked it up to check the caller ID, half expecting it to be Michelle again, calling to pick at her some more.
It was Trevor’s mother.
Honey’s feet fell to the floor. No way did she want to answer any questions right now.
Or was it Trevor using his mother’s phone?
Honey scrambled to answer, almost dropping the phone. “Hello?” Her voice was breathless.
“Hi, Honey, it’s Laura.”
“Oh, hi.”
Laura started to chatter, wondering how the sightseeing had gone, and glad the weather had been good, and the spurt of hope Honey had felt deflated. She quickly assured herself she was feeling relief and not disappointment.
“Anyway,” said Laura, and Honey forced herself to pay attention. “I feel terrible about deserting you last night! I wonder if we could meet for lunch tomorrow afternoon if your schedule allows?”
It could actually be a really good idea to have lunch with Laura. In Honey’s experience wives always had a lot of influence. Perhaps Honey could get out of seeing Trevor again if his mom could help her wrap up the deal? Maybe Laura could twist her husband’s arm and get the paperwork signed? Honey wasn’t above begging for help at this point.
“That sounds wonderful,” said Honey. “My class breaks for lunch at noon.”
“Wonderful! Do you know where the American Grille is located?”
“Yes, I ate there once last week.”
“Great! I’ll be waiting.”
After Honey hung up, she wondered why the thought of seeing Laura rather than Trevor filled her with depression.

***

 
Trevor needed to quit pacing or he’d wear a hole in the hardwood floor of his living room. He needed to do something, anything, or else wondering what his mother was up to would drive him crazy.
Glancing out his front window, streaks of egg he’d missed during the cleanup the night before had his lips tugging upward.
He strode to his office, grabbed the keys to his truck, and headed out the door.
He’d visit the kids who’d used his house for target practice, starting with the one with hate in his eyes.
Trevor would talk to the boy’s parents, then leave them to sort the kid out. It would give Trevor something to do as well as take care of the ongoing problem. Win-win situation as far as he was concerned.
With a feeling of purpose and relief, he drove to his office, empty on Sunday, let himself in, and copied addresses from a report he’d written. Back outside again, he headed over to Dylan Eley’s place.
He parked his truck down the street so as not to spook the kid into running and headed to the house and up the stairs, avoiding the flowerpots decorating each step.
He rang the bell, and a moment later a blonde woman, thirtyish and pretty, answered the door. “Can I help you?”
“Mrs. Eley?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, I’m Trevor Baron, a local game warden. I’m here to talk about your son, Dylan. He’s been giving me a lot of grief lately.”
“Dylan has?” Visibly worried, she opened the screen door.
“Yes. Along with two other boys. But I get the feeling Dylan is the leader of their little group. I’ve caught them illegally fishing a few times, and in retribution, they’ve toilet papered my house, soaped my windows, and then last night threw eggs at my place.”
Mrs. Eley’s hand flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Trevor noticed she didn’t doubt her son’s involvement. It was a relief that he wasn’t going to have to fight any denials, and at the same time very telling. The kid must be giving her a lot of problems.
Her hand waved in the air. “His father is stationed in Iraq right now. It’s been hard on Dylan. He misses him.”
Trevor nodded. “I’m sorry. That must be tough on you, too.”
Mrs. Eley looked suddenly hopeful. “Maybe you could have a word with him?”
“Me?” asked Trevor, startled.
“Yes. He’s not here right now, but he should be back within ten minutes or so. Would you like to wait?”
Trevor hesitated. He’d started it, and it looked like he’d have to finish it, too. At least he’d be distracted from thoughts of Honey for a while. “Uh, okay. Sure.”
“Great! Come in.”
Trevor went inside the pristine home and took a seat on the couch she indicated. She sat across from him, a strained smile on her face as she studied him. Trevor wasn’t sure where to look and glanced around the room.
An ivory couch, pink chairs, striped wallpaper. He’d have gone off to war, too, just to regain his masculinity.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Sure.” Better than staring at each other.
She was back a few minutes later with a couple of cold lemonades and some bright pink flower coasters.
She set the coasters on the glass table, handed him his drink and sat across from him again. “Aren’t you Greg and Laura Baron’s son?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “They’re members of my Rotary club. Laura’s told me about you.”
“Oh.” Trevor wondered just what his mother had said, but considering the divorce and his general moodiness over the last few years, decided he didn’t want to know.
“Good things,” clarified Mrs. Ely, seeming to read his mind. “She says you like fishing?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Dylan does, too. He used to go with his father all the time.” Mrs. Eley looked down, then up again. “I’m worried about the way Dylan’s acting out. He’s so angry all the time.”
She studied Trevor, her gaze suddenly calculating. “You know, I believe my son needs the influence of a good man in his life.”
Uncomfortable, Trevor looked down at his drink. Surely she wasn’t suggesting him? “Oh? When does your husband come home?”
“Not for--”
The screen door flew open. “Hi, Mom, I’m--” the kid spotted him and stopped. He looked from Trevor, to his mother, and back to Trevor again.
His mother stood. “Come inside, shut the door, and have a seat, young man,” she said sternly.
The kid’s expression turned mulish, and for a moment Trevor thought he might bolt. But a look at his mother changed his mind and his shoulders slumped, he slammed the door, threw his back pack down, and flung himself into a chair.
As Trevor wondered what to say to the kid, Mrs. Eley crossed her arms. “I understand you were throwing eggs at Mr. Baron’s house last night.”
Dylan threw a glare Trevor’s way. “He can’t prove anything,” he said, his tone surly.
“The dozen eggs I bought yesterday are missing. Are you saying you didn’t take them?”
Tense, the boy looked at his mother, then all at once deflated, his bony shoulders slumping.
“Add that to soaping windows and toilet papering. Now you apologize to Mr. Baron.”
“Sorry.” His tone said he wasn’t.
“I should think so. You know what?” said Mrs. Eley, her voice artificially bright. “I think Mr. Baron should take you fishing tomorrow, if that’s convenient?” She looked at Trevor.
In the process of taking a sip of lemonade, Trevor choked, then, gasping, asked, “What?”
Dylan was more vocal. “No way! I won’t go anywhere with him!”
“Then maybe you won’t go to Brandon’s sleepover this weekend, either,” she said, her tone hard.
“Ah, mom!”
Trevor was wondering how to get out of it, too. “I’m not sure, uh ...”
Mrs. Eley looked at him. “Are you busy tomorrow?” She looked so hopeful.
Slowly the tension eased out of Trevor. What could a few hours hurt? He gave in. “No, tomorrow would be fine.”
Mrs. Eley stood and so did Trevor. “Mr. Baron, I appreciate you coming over and bringing my son’s poor behavior to my attention. I’m expecting that there won’t be any more problems.” She looked at her son, narrow-eyed. “I’d hate to have to e-mail his dad and report any misbehavior.”
The boy slumped further in his chair.
Mrs. Eley crossed to the door and opened it. “I appreciate your willingness to spend an hour or two with my son tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yeah. No problem.” Uncomfortable, Trevor crossed to the door. He looked at the kid who, no doubt sensing Trevor’s discomfort, was smirking now.
Take him fishing? Have a talk with the boy? Alone? He turned to Mrs. Eley. “You’re welcome to come, too. You know, me being a stranger and all.”
Mrs. Eley smiled. “Did I mention your mother also comes and reads at the school where I teach? She speaks
very
highly of you. I trust you with him. Are you off work by five?”
Trevor nodded.
“Great. See you then. Don’t bother with dinner, I’ll have one packed for the two of you.”
Trevor nodded again. “I’ll be here.” He left, wondering just what in the heck he’d allowed himself to be talked into.
One thing was for darned sure. He wouldn’t be visiting the parents of any more boys tonight.

***

 
Even though she knew there was a test in the morning, Honey was having a hard time concentrating on her studies.
She considered calling Christian, then nixed the idea. As guilty as she felt, she’d just reveal all and let the chips fall where they may.
A whisper of thought told her it might be a good idea. If Christian broke it off with her, then she’d be free to see Trevor without any guilt.
She dropped her face into her hands.
Could she hate herself any more
? She thought about going out, getting something to eat, or maybe just taking a walk, but couldn’t work up the energy. What she needed was some advice. She reached for the phone.
After a few rings, Jessica answered.
“Hi, it’s Honey. I need to talk. I need an outside observer to knock some sense into me.”
“Well, I did have spinach salad for lunch today, so I have the muscles to do the knocking,” teased Jessica. “So shoot.”
Honey chuckled. “Okay, Popeye, try this on for size. I kissed Trevor.”
“
What
?”
Honey bit her lip. “I know, I know. And now I’m just feeling so messed up about the whole thing.”
“Short or long? Wet or dry? Was it any good?”
Honey gasped, then laughed. “No comment.”
“Was it bad?” Jessica sounded deflated.
Honey laughed again. “No. But I’m still not giving details.”
Jessica giggled.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Maybe a little. I just think it’s so great. I haven’t been able to talk sense into you about your engagement, but one week with Trevor and finally you have doubts. I haven’t even met him and I already like him.”
“Because he’s a good kisser?”
“Ah ha! You admitted it!”
Honey relaxed a little. She looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “What about Christian?”
“What about him? You’re calling me even though you know I’ll advise you to dump Christian and date Trevor. Right? Doesn’t that tell you something? Like maybe you called me so I could tell you just that?”
Honey groaned and bent over to place her forehead on the desk. She shut her eyes. “I didn’t become engaged to Christian lightly, you know,” Honey said softly. “I thought about it for a long time and came to the conclusion that we could be happy together.”
“I know.” Jessica’s tone was sympathetic. “But you’re not happy, are you? I think you should explore this thing with Trevor. It may not work out, but for you to feel this way so quickly about another guy must tell you Christian really isn’t the one for you, anyway. Right?”
Honey sat back in the chair again. “I just don’t know anymore.”
“That’s an answer too, isn’t it?”
Honey took a breath, then slowly exhaled. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, the munchkin is waking up from her nap, so I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
Honey could hear wailing in the background. “Okay. Thanks for the advice.”
“Anytime. Let me know what you decide. Your life is a little more exciting than mine right now and so I have to get that vicarious thrill once in a while, ‘kay?”
“You’ll be the first to know if anything happens.” Honey hung up, feeling more confused than ever. When she’d become engaged, she really had given it a lot of thought. She’d really believed she could be happy with Christian. She’d believed they could be happy together. Did she still? That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it?

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