Small Town Girl (8 page)

“What do you mean? Everybody has a prenup now.”

“Ha! No, they don’t.”

“Well, I do. It’s for Charles’s protection as well as my own.”

“It’s planning for a divorce. When you love someone, you don’t need a prenup. You don’t even think about a prenup.”

Lauren felt her hackles rise. What kind of provincial idiot was this man? “I’m not planning for a divorce. It’s just a precaution.”

“It’s a plan,” said Caleb, looking her straight in the eyes. “It’s a plan for divorce.”

Lauren raised her voice defensively. “I don’t like your insinuation.”

“What do you think I’m insinuating?”

“You’re insinuating that Charles doesn’t love me. And you don’t even know him.”

“Not at all. All I’m saying is that I don’t believe in prenups. I think it’s a plan for divorce, and people who enter a marriage under the shadow of a document drawn up by self-serving lawyers don’t trust each other. And that doesn’t make for a successful marriage.”

“Prenups are nothing new, you know!” Lauren felt as though she was defending herself. “They’ve been done for years. Whenever there are enough assets at risk or historically to see that families form powerful unions.”

“I know that,” said Caleb slowly. He stared thoughtfully into his beer. “I wasn’t the most enthusiastic student, but I’ve sat through enough history classes to know that marriages between powerful families had nothing to do with love.” He looked up at her again. “And that’s what I’m talking about. Two people in love. True love. True love doesn’t require a prenup under any conditions.”

Now Lauren was angry, and she spoke before thinking. “Who are you, anyway? Some kind of backwoods philosopher?”

The sarcasm of Caleb’s hard laugh was not lost on Lauren. He pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’m not trying to burst your bubble. Sorry if I offended you — again. I’m just talking about my own beliefs. You’re entitled to your own. And, Lauren Smith, I’ll pick up the tab. It’s how I do things. Have a good evening. In fact, have a nice wedding. I really wish you happiness.”

He walked away before she could utter a word. She sat, momentarily stunned, and watched him walk to the bar, leave money with Vanessa, and walk out the door. He smiled at her and gave her a little wave before the door closed behind him.

Caleb had indeed paid for her dinner, but Lauren left a healthy tip for the waitress anyway. Maybe it would inspire her to smile more, she thought sarcastically. Then she gathered her purse, sighed, and stood up. Well, this evening didn’t exactly go the way she’d planned. She couldn’t seem to have a conversation with this man. He was so contrary. So obstinate. She shrugged to herself. That took care of the problem of this unwarranted attraction between them, she thought ruefully. She couldn’t be attracted to a person with such different views about things from herself. Determinedly, she pulled the strap of her purse up over her shoulder and went out to her car to begin the drive back up the hill for her last night in the old house.

The night was clear and balmy. The air was fresh, and the first star was shining in the deep blue of the darkening sky. As she accelerated to climb the small rise in the road that ran past Caleb’s house, her car gave a little cough. Lauren pushed the accelerator harder, but the car did not respond. She pushed the pedal to the floor; the car sputtered again and stalled. As it lost momentum, she turned the wheel and coasted to the side of the road. She tried to start the car one more time, but the engine only whined weakly and wouldn’t turn over.

“Damn!” she said aloud, smacking her hands on the steering wheel. Darkness was closing in. It was about a mile back to the village. She had no intention of walking alone on a deserted country road back to a village where she was a stranger. She had no idea who to call locally in such a predicament. Then she looked down the road. Just where the road had begun to rise sat Caleb’s house. She could see a light on inside. Someone might be home. Did she dare knock at the door? After their rather uncomfortable exchange at MacTavish’s Pub, she really didn’t want to confront him again from such a vulnerable position. And she could not be more vulnerable than right now, right here, in a strange place, in the dark, with a dead car.

“Damn!” she muttered again out loud, then thought more realistically,
what am I going to do now?
She really needed help. And what did it matter? She was leaving town tomorrow anyway and would never see him again. She was not going to stoop to playing games. It was not a matter of daring to knock and ask for help or not daring. It was not a matter of daring at all. It was just the intelligent thing to do. Her only option.

Of course she dared! What was stopping her? After all, other than Joan the Realtor, he was the only person she knew in town. “Come on,” she convinced herself as she climbed out of the car. “It’s nothing. He’s nothing to you.” However, she could not seem to still her thudding heart.

Lauren made her way tenuously up the front walk. Through the illuminated window, she could see the kitchen, so she made for the side door. Hesitantly, she raised her hand, then boldly knocked at the door. She could hear movement in the room and the door opened. Caleb stood in the doorway. He was naked from the waist up and his feet were bare. His jeans, obviously hastily thrown on, were zipped, but he held the button closed with his hand. His face registered surprise, then he looked worried.

“Lauren! What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

Of course, Lauren had never seen Caleb without his shirt, or so late at night. She stared. She was awed by how strikingly masculine he was. His muscles were knit together, sculpted, but relaxed, too, as though they were resting yet capable of springing into any kind of action at any time. She could see the lines at his hips that defined his loins. Lauren felt the blood rise up the sides of her neck and flush her cheeks till they burned. Caleb seemed to notice her blush and appeared suddenly aware of his state of undress.

“Ah, sorry,” he said self-consciously. “I just stepped out of the shower and threw on my jeans.” He gave a funny little smile. “Long time, no see.”

“I need your help, Caleb,” Lauren blurted out, ignoring his sarcasm. “Your house was right here, and you’re the only person I know in town anyway. I was driving home from the pub, and my car just died. See?” Her situation suddenly sounded so juvenile and lame.

She pointed up the darkening road. Her stalled car was just visible at the top of the rise. Caleb’s gaze followed the direction of her pointing finger. “You didn’t run out of gas, did you?” he asked with his wry little smile.

“No!” she said, instantly furious. “I didn’t run out of gas. I’m not stupid!”

“Whoa! Is your name Smith or Smith-and-Wesson? Take it easy.” He laughed a little. “I wasn’t suggesting you were. Well, then, I guess the famous German engineering isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Should drive American.”

Oh, for crying out loud!
thought Lauren, exasperated. “Will you help me or not?” She couldn’t control the edge to her voice.

Caleb opened the door wider. “Of course, I’ll help you. Come on in while I get dressed, and I’ll give you a ride home.” She stepped just inside the door, obviously ill at ease. “I don’t bite,” he said sarcastically. He turned and left the room.

“You don’t need to give me a ride home,” she called after him a little nervously. “Can’t you just look at it? Maybe you can fix it?” Weren’t these country boys supposed to be able to fix things?

He called back from another room, “I’m not going to try to diagnose some foreign car problem this late. I’ll just run you up the hill, and we’ll see to it in the morning.”

“I — I hate to inconvenience you. Isn’t there a cab I could call?”

She could hear him moving around in what she presumed to be the bedroom. She looked around. It was a pretty kitchen. The cabinets were whitewashed with wrought iron hinges and pulls, in quiet contrast to the pale yellow walls. There was a window with a deep sill over the kitchen sink. Open shelves were on either side. Lauren noticed there was antique crockery displayed, a vase, a small trophy of some kind, and a silver frame with a picture of a girl in a white dress. Lauren leaned forward, peering for a better look at the picture. The girl was caught in the middle of laughing, her head back, her dark hair swinging out behind her, her hands clasped in front of her. She was looking straight at the camera and her beauty was undeniable.

Caleb came back into the kitchen, pulling a black T-shirt over his head with one hand and carrying his work boots in the other. He pulled out one of the chairs around the kitchen table and sat down to put his boots on. He answered her question as he laced them up. “In this town? Ha! No, you’ll just have to put up with some small town chivalry.” He straightened up and gave her a searching look. “Unless, of course, you want to stay here for the night.”

“What are you suggesting! Never mind, I’ll walk home!” She whirled around to the door.
Chivalry, my ass!
she thought. She should have known better.

He was on his feet and beside her. He touched her arm, and she turned around to face him. She was acutely aware of his physical proximity, the heat of him. Before she could protest, he said, “I wasn’t suggesting anything. If you’re afraid to stay there alone especially without your car, I’d certainly pull out the couch and you could sleep here. And what are
you
suggesting? What kind of person do you think
I
am? I don’t make a habit of propositioning strange women.” He paused, then added with a slow smile, “Even if they’re as pretty as you.”

He had turned the tables on her. Lauren had to return the smile. “Thank you. A girl can’t get too many compliments.”

“I was sincere.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, each recognizing the mutual attraction, each confused as to what to do. They were standing so close together, Lauren was aware of the clean smell of him, fresh from his shower. He made a movement with his hand, just brushing her upper arm, as if to draw her in. Automatically, she tilted her head up and back, her lips slightly parted. Suddenly he let go of her, dropping his hand to his side. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds. I just didn’t want you running out the door. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

She went meekly outside. He closed the door behind them. “Aren’t you going to lock it?”

Caleb laughed out loud. “You can tell you’re not from around here! Nobody locks their doors. Here, climb in.” He opened the passenger door of the white Dodge pick-up truck parked in the driveway. “Give me your hand. It’s a long way up.”

“I’m okay, thank you,” replied Lauren primly. No matter how good his touch felt, there was no need to encourage anything, but he ignored her, and placing his hands around her waist just above her hips, he boosted her into the big truck. Her heart leaped at the thrill; even after he let go, shut the truck door, and walked around to the driver’s side, Lauren could feel the pressure of his hands where they had held her. He had hoisted her as easily as if she had been a small child.

She felt unexpectedly safe as she settled into the seat and pulled the seat belt around her. The driver’s side door opened, and Caleb stepped up into the truck.

“Sorry about the messy vehicle,” he said, hastily gathering up some papers and putting them into the back seat of the extended cab. “This truck gets to be sort of an office sometimes, when I’m running from job to job.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” said Lauren politely. “I understand.”

Caleb backed the truck out of the driveway. They were silent most of the way. Lauren felt the awkwardness of the situation and said, “What time is it, anyway?”

Caleb answered, “Oh, it’s not too late. A little after ten, I think. I’m usually sleeping by now.”

“Really? At ten at night?”

“Well, I’m at the shop by six-thirty in the morning, so, yeah, I go to bed early.”

“Sometimes we don’t go out until ten!” Lauren laughed.

They were quiet again, and then Caleb asked, “You live with your boyfriend?”

“Well,” said Lauren, “I guess not really.”

“That’s a weird answer. Either you do or you don’t.”

“I stay overnight a lot. Actually, most of the time. It’s better than sleeping alone.”

Caleb snorted. “Is that like saying it’s better than a poke in the eye?”