Three Little Words (18 page)

“How about the ropes?” she asked, pointing to the ropes hanging from a crossbar.

“Sure.” Something he could do better, he thought. Men had more upper body strength than women. At least, he hoped they did.

They jogged across the gym. She reached for a rope as he did, then started to shimmy up. She reached the crossbar before he’d climbed more than four feet. He dropped back to the mats and started to laugh.

She joined him. “What?” she asked.

“You’re incredible.”

“I do this for a living.”

“Still, you’re in great shape. I’m completely intimidated.”

She got them each a bottle of water from a refrigerator in the corner. “You’re not. If you were you wouldn’t have wanted to work out with me. You knew I’d be good.”

“True, but I underestimated your ability.” He took a long drink of water and studied her. “Men do that a lot, don’t they?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“All the time. Because of your face and your body, they assume you’re a piece of ass and don’t bother to get to know you. They don’t take the time to understand you and they don’t offer you respect.”

The reality of what he’d just said struck him. He stared at her, horrified. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“It was rude.”

She drank more, her dark gaze never leaving his face. Her expression was unreadable. “You didn’t call me a piece of ass. You said others do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Like I said, it’s the truth. Very few men take the time to find out who I am.”

He wanted to say he was willing, but was afraid he would sound like even more of a jerk.

“If nothing else, you now have proof that I haven’t dated much since my divorce,” he offered.

“You think I’m mad,” she said.

“Aren’t you?”

She lowered the bottle and smiled. “No.”

He waited, but that was all.

They finished their water and completed a few more exercises. He had a feeling he was going to be crippled in the morning. Something his students would find amusing.

“Are you limping?” she asked when he staggered to his feet after a rousing round of push-ups. She’d done more than him.

“No.” He straightened, ignoring the fiery pain searing his thighs and biceps. “How about a flashy finish?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Are you challenging me?”

“Sure.”

He knew he was going to regret the cocky attitude, but figured the low point of the workout had been the “piece of ass” comment.

She walked over to him and took his left arm in both her hands. Before he knew what was happening, she’d jerked him forward and then he was facing the ceiling and the floor came up very, very quickly.

He’d fallen out of a tree back when he’d been a kid. This was a lot like that, only without the broken arm. All the air rushed out of his body, and for a split second, he couldn’t draw it in.

Consuelo was on her knees at his side. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, touching his face, then his arms. “Are you okay? That was so stupid of me. I was showing off. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Worry darkened her brown eyes. Her ponytail lightly brushed his cheek as she fussed over him. He opened his mouth and pretended to be unable to speak.

“What?” she demanded. “Are you hurt?”

He motioned her closer. “I can’t breathe,” he fake-gasped. “I think I need mouth-to-mouth.”

She sat back on her heels and shook her head. “You are such a guy.”

He sat up. “Is that a problem?”

“Not for me.”

He figured she would scramble to her feet, then pull him to his. Or laugh at him. Or walk away. Instead she leaned in and kissed him.

The touch of her mouth against his was light and brief, but the heat burned all the way down to his cock. He wanted to pull her close and let things get interesting. But they were at her place of work and she wouldn’t appreciate that.

She drew back. “I really am sorry about throwing you like that.”

“I’m not.” He grinned. “The kiss was worth it.”

“You’re easy.”

“As long as you consider that a good thing, I can live with that.” He gently touched her cheek. “Dinner? Just us?”

She glanced around and then leaned in again. This time her mouth lingered. “Dinner,” she whispered.

* * *

I
SABEL
PAUSED
ON
THE
PORCH
to check her phone. Still no return call from Sonia. She wondered what was going on with her friend. She’d left a message on Sonia’s Facebook page, where her friend had regular updates. But the lack of direct communication was troubling.

“Auntie Is, Auntie Is!”

Isabel grinned and dropped to her knees so Brandon, Maeve’s six-year-old, could run into her arms.

“Look at you,” she said, squeezing him as he laughed. “You’re so big.”

He hugged her back, then broke free and hurried back through the front door. “I can read, Auntie Is. I have a book.”

Isabel watched him bolt into the house, then followed. While she appreciated the happy greeting, she wondered how much of his enthusiasm came from his memories and how much was inspired by his older siblings. Isabel knew she’d had more to do with them than the younger ones. Mostly due to time and distance, but still.

Maeve waited at the front door. “You’re going to have to listen to one of his ‘Bob’ books now,” she said by way of greeting. “It’s the first level of reading. ‘Bob can walk. Bob can jump.’”

“Sounds like a bestseller.”

They hugged. Isabel patted her sister’s stomach.

“You seem to have something in there. You knew that, right?”

“Very funny.”

They settled in the family room. In addition to a huge sectional sofa, there were several chairs, a large, square coffee table with padded corners and toys everywhere.

Maeve burrowed onto a cushion and sighed. “I tried to pick up before you got here, but I’m at the tired stage of my pregnancy. In the next few weeks, I’ll get my energy back and then watch out.”

“You would know,” Isabel said, thinking Maeve had plenty of practice.

Maeve and Leonard had waited a year before getting married, just to make sure their love was the real thing. By then Leonard had graduated from college and passed the CPA exam. He got a job with the biggest accounting firm in town. Two years later, Maeve had gotten pregnant. The kids had kept on coming. Now she had four, all under the age of nine, with a fifth on the way.

“Is this the last one?” Isabel asked.

“I think so.” She smiled. “Leonard says yes, for sure. But we love having kids. We’ve talked about maybe stopping having our own, but adopting a few. Not babies. There are plenty of people who want an infant. We’re thinking maybe older kids who would benefit from a stable home and life in a town like this one.”

“Impressive,” Isabel murmured. “Now I officially feel shallow.”

Her sister’s blue eyes were concerned. “Why would you say that? You’re a successful businesswoman. That’s impressive. All I do is stay home with a bunch of kids.” She smiled. “Not that what I do isn’t important and I love it, but I haven’t ever seriously worked in the world. When Leonard and I were first married, I knew my job was to save for our house down payment. I didn’t want a career. When the youngest is in school, I may get something part-time, but I can’t imagine doing what you do.”

“Right now I’m working at Paper Moon. Which isn’t that notable.”

“But you’ll start your own business.”

“That’s the plan.”

Maeve leaned her head against the sofa. “You always loved that store. You and Grandma were there together every weekend. You knew all the styles of dresses by the time you were five, and by ten, you could have ordered the inventory.”

Isabel nodded. “She was wonderful.”

“She liked you best.”

Isabel wrinkled her nose. “She liked that I loved the store.”

“Same thing. Paper Moon was her life. I never got the point. I guess retail isn’t my thing.” Her sister looked at her. “You’ll take that with you when you open your own place.”

“I hope so. It’s going to be different. Back to New York for me.”

“I wish you could stay around.” Maeve raised one hand. “I know, I know. New York is a fashion capital and all that. Fool’s Gold isn’t going to be a star on anyone’s trendy map. Still. Mom’s been getting regular reports from our local gossips, and everyone says you’re doing great. Just so you know, the parents are secretly hoping you’ll change your mind and stay.”

Isabel sighed. “I know. She mentioned it the last time we talked.”

“You tempted?”

“I have a goal and it doesn’t include staying here.” Not that being home was as horrible as she’d thought it might be. In fact, parts of her return were quite excellent. Her friends, for one, and Ford. Ford was an unexpected gift.

“Do you and the folks have a timetable?” Maeve asked.

“They’re due back from their trip before Thanksgiving. Then we’ll go over my plan for refurbishing the store. It should all be done by the holidays, and then we’ll put the store up for sale after the first of the year.”

“That makes me sad,” Maeve admitted. “Paper Moon should stay in the family. But you have your dreams and I have no interest in running it.”

“I know what you mean,” Isabel told her. “I feel badly about it, too. Sometimes I wonder if I could stay, but I don’t want to deal with crazy brides all day. I want to do more. And I have my business partner.”

“That’s right. Sonia. Let me guess. She’s one of those East Coast people who assumes the continent simply ends when you hit the Mississippi.”

“Pretty much.”

Conversation shifted to how Leonard’s business was doing and then talk about the kids. Brandon came back downstairs with two toys and one of his books that he read to both of them. Two hours flew by. When Isabel realized the time, she stood.

“I’ve left Madeline alone for too long. She gets nervous if there are too many things going on.”

“Does she like the work?” Maeve asked, struggling to her feet.

“A lot and she’s good at it. I’m hoping whoever we sell to will keep her on.”

The sisters hugged.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come by sooner,” Isabel said. “I won’t wait so long next time.”

“I’d like that,” her sister told her. “You could be wild and come on a Saturday morning when everyone’s home. It’s loud then, but it’s fun.”

“I will,” Isabel promised.

“Good. Because you’re always welcome here, sis. I want you to know that.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“I’
D
LIKE
TO
SPEAK
to you about a dress.”

Isabel glanced up at the woman who had just walked into Paper Moon and wanted to ask what was wrong with this picture. The potential customer was tall and elegantly dressed in a dark gray tailored suit. Long black hair hung straight down her back. Her eyes were a nearly violet color of blue, and she had on killer red pumps with at least four-inch heels. She looked capable of ruling the world and still having time left over to organize international banking. She exuded confidence and determination. If Isabel had to guess an age, she would say close to mid-thirties. And while she was familiar, Isabel didn’t know where she’d seen her before.

“A wedding gown?” Isabel asked.

The woman shuddered. “God, no. I meant the purple dress in the window. It’s gorgeous. I want to buy it.”

Isabel grinned. “You might want to try it on first.”

“Right. I always get hung up on the details. Let’s start there.”

“Sure.” Isabel walked through the store and opened the door to the display window. “You said the purple one?”

“Uh-huh.”

Rather than wrestle the mannequin out of the window, she undid the zipper and pulled off the dress. She stepped back into the store.

“Here you go. There are dressing rooms through this way.” Isabel paused. “I feel like we’ve met, but I can’t place your name.”

“Taryn Crawford.” The woman held out her hand. “I’m moving here to town, I’m sad to say.”

“You don’t want to move to Fool’s Gold?”

“No. It’s small. I like the big city. Los Angeles is more my speed. I like the fact that everyone is shallow. It’s refreshing. There’s no pretense of empathy. You know what you’re getting. From what I can tell, Fool’s Gold is one giant beating heart of caring. All those festivals. People talk to me while I’m waiting in line for coffee.” She shuddered. “Happy families everywhere. It’s not natural.”

Isabel laughed. “You’re not big on families?”

“Not for me. Families are a wonderful thing for other people. I like children...mostly from a distance.” She sighed. “This all makes me sound horrible and I’m not. I’m very nice. Not as nice as the people in this town, though.”

Isabel opened a dressing room door, then stepped back to let Taryn enter. The woman thanked her, then closed the door.

What an interesting person, Isabel thought. Talk about honest to a fault.

A minute or so later, Taryn walked out in the purple dress.

It was fitted, with long sleeves and a conservative hemline. But in the back, a deep, teardrop-shaped cutout turned ordinary into sexy.

Taryn stepped up onto the low platform in front of the mirrors and studied herself.

“The dress is really well made,” she said. “You’re not charging enough. The quality workmanship is only exceeded by the fabric. This is excellent. I love the fit.”

“It looks great,” Isabel said, trying not to feel bitter that the other woman was about two inches taller than her and yet a good five sizes smaller. Isabel had never minded being curvy, but every now and then she wondered if she should cut back on the cookies, or maybe go to the gym.

Without having much of a plan, Isabel walked to the accessory armoire and started opening doors and drawers. She discarded three belts before finding the right one. She also had a scarf, she thought, digging through piles of discarded props for various weddings.

When she found the scarf, she brought it and the belt to Taryn. “Try these.”

Taryn piled her hair on top of her head and turned to looked at the cutout. She released her hair and fastened the belt. “Fabulous,” she breathed as she reached for the scarf. “Is this your design?”

“No. Someone I know represents the designer. Dellina, my friend, is in town. She organizes parties and does some decorating. She asked me to carry a few pieces. They’ve been selling really well.”

“I’ll take it,” Taryn said, letting her hair fall. “But seriously, Dellina needs to tell her friend to raise her prices.” She stepped off the platform and walked barefoot toward Isabel. “I’m going to need Dellina’s number.”

“Okay, um, why?”

“As I mentioned, my business is moving here. We’re going to be buying new offices in the next few months and remodeling them. I’m guessing we’ll make the physical move in February or March of next year. At that point, I’ll need a decorator.”

“What’s the business?”

“Score. It’s a PR firm.” Taryn rolled her eyes. “My partners are former football players. They’re the ones who found Fool’s Gold. A friend of theirs had a pro-am golf tournament here and they played in it. Apparently it was love at first sight. We had a vote and I lost.” She flashed an unexpected smile. “Not to worry. I’ll figure out some way to punish them. But in the meantime, we’re relocating our headquarters.”

Former football players in Fool’s Gold? Isabel started to tell Taryn that good-looking men were always welcome, but decided the other woman might not appreciate the news.

“It’s a great place to live,” Isabel offered.

“How long have you been here?” Taryn asked.

“I grew up here, then moved to New York. I’m only back for a few months...” Her voice trailed off.

Taryn nodded. “You’re proving my point. All the good ones escape.”

Isabel laughed. “If you’re going to be around for a while, maybe you’d like to have lunch with me and my friends. It might help you feel more excited about the move. You know, if you meet a few people.”

Taryn stared at her. “Please don’t take this wrong, but is everyone nice? Because I find that to be a problem.”

“No. They’re fun and great people, and they can be snarky. Especially Charlie. In fact, I think the two of you could be very good friends.”

“Then count me in.”

* * *

T
HE
OLD
HOUSE
was about an hour outside Sacramento. The large trees on the property had started changing colors, and orange and red leaves drifted across the ground. In the distance, a couple of horses ran together, as if they, too, felt the perfection of the cool fall day.

Forty or fifty cars were parked beside an old red barn with fading and peeling paint. A second barn stood a couple of dozen feet away.

“You’ve stopped pouting,” Isabel teased as she got out of the Jeep.

Ford shrugged into his beat-up leather jacket. “I wasn’t pouting.”

“Sure you were. There was heavy sighing and a few moans.”

“I didn’t moan.”

She laughed. In truth, Ford had come through on his promise to take her to an estate sale. They’d picked this one together. Although it was a fair drive from Fool’s Gold, Isabel had thought he would enjoy the variety of items being sold.

“The farmhouse has been in the family over a hundred and fifty years,” she said. “Look at it. All that attic space and outbuildings. We could find something really special today.”

“Hey, maybe I can get a tractor.”

She sighed. “Are you going to be difficult? Because if you are, can you wait in the car?”

He laughed and took her hand in his. “I’m not going to be difficult. Come on. Let’s go find some treasures.”

They moved toward the house.

A teenaged girl handed them a flyer. “Furniture in the house,” she said, pointing. “Smaller items in the two barns. Cash only. We’ll hold the furniture a week, if you need us to, but you have to pay a deposit.”

“Thanks.” Isabel took the flyer and turned away from the house.

“They’re organized,” Ford said. “I figured it would be like a garage sale, but they have way more stuff.”

“Most aren’t like this. At least, not the ones I go to. I guess they’ve been planning the sale for a while.”

They walked toward the first barn. A steady crowd flowed in and out. She saw that someone had set up an awning, and there were three cash registers on tables. Several teenaged boys helped carry purchases to vehicles.

“What are they going to do here?” he asked. “With the land?”

“I heard it was going to be a subdivision. Which makes me sad. A family owned this land for years.”

“For some people, this is progress.” He glanced at her. “You’re not going to say you want to buy it, are you?”

“No. I’m moving to New York. But still, that was a great house, back in the day. There were probably a lot of kids running around. You had that.”

“Yup. It was loud.”

She liked the feel of his hand in hers and the way he walked next to her. He was fun to be with, she thought. Conversation was easy.

“Want to talk about being at your mom’s the other night?”

She thought he might say no or pretend not to understand what she was asking. Instead he squeezed her hand and spoke.

“It’s family,” he said. “They make it easier and harder. I’m one of the lucky ones. I don’t have flashbacks. I don’t have nightmares. But every now and then, the social situations get to be too much.” He shifted in front of her so she had to come to a stop and look up at him. “You ran interference.”

She stared at the center of his chest and shrugged. “I tried to help.”

“You did. Thanks for that.”

She raised her chin and smiled. “And now I’m going to introduce you to the delights of an estate sale. Yet another reason you should treasure me.”

He groaned. “I’d nearly forgotten. All right. Let’s get this over with.”

They went into the first barn. Isabel liked how they’d set out everything by category and on large folding tables pushed together in long rows.

“We can ignore the clothes,” she said. “I’m not into vintage. Unless you want something circa 1950.”

“No, thanks. Hey, look. They have old records.”

“Do you have a record player?”

“No, but Gideon loves them. Let’s see what they have.”

They started sorting through LPs and 45s. There were a couple of old jazz records from the late 1940s, along with plenty of stuff from the ’50s.

She saw that he was going to look in earnest, so she wandered away to check out the stacks of books. She found several older children’s books she remembered from when she was a kid and thought Maeve might like them for her kids. In the kitchen section, she found a cute pitcher with a cracked handle. She carried it over to Ford.

“Could you fix this?” she asked.

He glanced at the pitcher. “No. I’m good in bed. Anything else, we’re going to have to hire out.”

A reasonable trade, she thought, then glanced at the stack of records he’d accumulated. “You’re buying all those?”

“Yup. They’re cheap enough. Gideon can give away the ones he doesn’t want or already has.”

They paid for the records and took them to the Jeep, then returned to the second barn. There Ford was excited to find a couple of tables overflowing with vintage Harley memorabilia.

“For Angel?” she guessed.

“Just a couple of things.” He tucked them into an empty box from the stack against the walls. “Let’s go look at toys. I’ve got nieces and nephews born what feels like every other month.”

By noon, they’d nearly filled the back of the Jeep. Isabel had fallen in love with an old handmade quilt. She’d also bought two antique wedding veils. She might not be into all things vintage, but some of her clients were.

They walked around the barn to an open, grassy area. There, tables and a grill were set up. Ford ordered two burgers while she grabbed canned soda and chips. When their food was ready, they sat at one of the picnic tables.

“Okay,” he said, smearing mustard on his burger. “You were right. This was better than I thought it would be.”

“They aren’t all like this,” she pointed out, “but I’m glad you had a good estate-sale experience.”

“You’re gloating,” he said with a grin. “Admit it.”

She laughed. “Okay, yes. I love to be right. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Not me. I’m a consensus builder.”

“Oh, sure. That’s why you’re always betting with Angel about races and workouts.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He took a bite of his burger and chewed. When he’d swallowed, he said, “He and I haven’t been doing that as much. I guess because I don’t live with him anymore.” His gaze settled on her face. “Not that I’m complaining about my living arrangements now.”

She sipped her soda but didn’t speak. Ford had pretty much moved into the house. He spent every night in her bed and hogged the shower in the morning. The good news was, he was only in it for about fifteen seconds. Apparently the navy taught a seaman how to shower quickly. No doubt it was about the whole being-on-a-boat thing.

“You’re saying I’m more fun than Angel?” she asked.

“You’re a different kind of fun.”

“Thanks.” She picked up her burger. “What about when you were on missions or whatever? Did you have girlfriends there?”

“A girl in every port?” he asked as she took a bite and chewed.