The Mommy Bride
Shelley Galloway
It's been a tough road, but Claire Grant is determined to put her past behind her and build a secure future for her teenage son.Her new life plan doesn't include a relationship with Dr. Ty Slattery, the handsome resident who's trying his best to change her mind. Until one unforgettable night turns her world upside down… Becoming pregnant again also wasn't part of Claire's plan! And the wary single mother isn't ready to let down her guard.Can Ty convince her to take a chance on love–and on him? That, together, they have what it takes to become a real family?
“How are you this morning?"
“I'm fine."
“Glad to hear it.”
The look Ty gave her, so warm and caring, made Claire stir the batter with a little more force than necessary. Made her think maybe he was more attractive than she’d originally thought.
His look made her feel as if she was missing something. Made her remember that once upon a time she believed in dreams and fairy tales. In happily-ever-afters.
No way was she ever going down that path again.
Dear Reader,
I’ve got a story for you. A few years ago, one of my critique partners suggested that our writing group think about helping some women in a homeless shelter. Instead of just writing a check, she thought we should give them gift bags full of all kinds of things we take for granted. Things like toothpaste, shampoo, lotion, soap and combs.
The five of us gathered up these items, and one evening we put together fifty bags for Christmas. We had so much fun, we’ve done it several times since.
Well, then we heard the most amazing thing. Last Mother’s Day, those ladies had some bags left over. They took the extra bags and handed them out to women who were living on the streets…women less fortunate than themselves. Those are some pretty incredible ladies.
Kind of like the heroine of this book, Claire Grant.
Some of you might remember meeting Claire in my novel Simple Gifts. In Simple Gifts she was a homeless mom trying to get back on her feet. Claire and her story resonated with a lot of readers. With me, too! I couldn’t forget Claire, and I knew she and her son, Wes, needed their own happy ending.
I spend most of my days writing, volunteering and being a wife and mother. I’m so thankful that Harlequin has given me the opportunity to write and dream about people I would like to be. Thanks so much for picking up my book. I hope you’ll enjoy Claire’s story. And if you have time, I hope you’ll tell me what you think. Please visit me either at eHarlequin.com, or at www.shelleygalloway.com.
Shelley
The Mommy Bride
Shelley Galloway
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Shelley Galloway loves to get up early, drink too much coffee and write books. These pastimes come in handy during her day-to-day life in southern Ohio. Most days she can be found driving her kids to their activities, writing romances in her basement or trying to find a way to get ahead of her pile of laundry. She’s also been known to talk to her miniature dachshund Suzy as if she actually has opinions about books.
Shelley is the proud recipient of a Romantic Times BOOKreviews Reviewer’s Choice Award for her 2006 release, Simple Gifts. Shelley attends several conferences every year and loves to meet readers. She also spends a lot of time online. Please visit her at eHarlequin.com or at www.shelleygalloway.com.
To women who’ve struggled over adversity. And to
women who’ve helped others achieve their dreams.
And, of course, to Tom.
For not blinking an eye when I buy fifty bars
of soap for strangers…or when he discovers that
yet again I forgot to do the laundry.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter One
“I knew things were too good to be true,” Lynette pronounced just as a young woman, a little girl and a teen tromped into the reception area of the Lane’s End Memorial Hospital. “I was a fool to think we’d actually have a slow afternoon for once.”
“We had a good forty-five minutes of downtime, that’s got to be a record,” Claire said as she hopped off her stool.
“We almost got our crossword done.”
“Almost.” Lynette quickly shoved their daily crossword to one side as the trio approached, each wearing looks of worry and panic.
Closer inspection revealed a bloody towel wrapped around the boy’s hand. Joking was pushed aside as duty clicked in. “May I help you?”
Treating them to a weary smile, the woman nodded. “Taylor here cut up his hand pretty bad. I think he’s going to need some stitches.”
The little girl’s hair was the exact shade of auburn as the woman’s; she stared at Claire. “We need some help.”
Privately, Claire thought they all did. Their coats weren’t thick enough to ward off the cold weather. Each looked in need of hot soup. And as a slight musty scent floated her way, Claire realized that a shower would be a good idea, too.
A shiver ran through her as she fought back memories. Remembering darker times would do her no good now. She’d do well to keep that in mind. “We’ll get you started in a jiffy,” Claire promised with a smile, though she felt herself getting a little woozy. There was a lot of blood on that towel. “Lynette, I’ll start the paperwork.”
Her partner picked up a phone. “I’ll go ahead and call for assistance.”
After grabbing a clipboard holding the necessary forms, Claire guided the trio to a nearby cubicle. “We’re calling for help so Taylor can get treated right away. In the meantime, we just need some basic information.”
Wariness fought with relief in the woman’s hazel eyes. “I don’t have insurance.”
Claire hadn’t thought she did. In her experience, insurance premiums weren’t high on your list when you didn’t know where the next meal was coming from. “We’ll worry about that in a bit. Just fill out what you can and we’ll concentrate on getting Taylor fixed up.”
The little girl’s eyes widened just before she popped her thumb in her mouth. Tenderness passed over the woman’s expression as she turned to Taylor, who was sitting in the chair next to her. Gently she combed back a lock of hair. “We did the right thing, didn’t we?”
He still hadn’t said a word. The woman didn’t look like she needed an answer.
That was worrisome. As the woman started filling out the forms, Claire glanced back toward her reception partner. “Lynette? Any word?”
“Yep.” Behind her, Lynette was talking on the phone in her usual no-nonsense way, chomping gum in between every other word. “I got put on hold for a sec, but—here we go.” Her voice a little louder, she said, “We’re gonna need some help over here in registration. Yes. Uh-huh. Thank you.”
“Any minute now,” Claire promised. Funny how it seemed like things were taking forever, when in truth the trio had only arrived minutes ago.
As the girl sucked her thumb and the boy said nothing, Claire did what she could to try and provide reassurance. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she said. “The doctors are good here. And the staff’s the best.”
Some of the stress in the woman’s eyes settled. A dash of kindness really did work wonders. Once their gazes met, Claire spoke slowly again. Remembering her son’s last scrape, worn like a badge of honor, she said, “So, how’d you get cut?”
But that question didn’t achieve the results she’d hoped for. Instead of an explanation, all she got was a suspicious look. Finally—almost defiantly—he mumbled, “I cut it on a can.”
The woman’s chin rose a bit. “We were…collecting cans and one had a torn edge.”
Claire’s wooziness increased tenfold. And not because of the blood. Unfortunately, she knew all about collecting cans in the dark. Swallowing hard, she fought to keep her voice neutral. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.” She darted another look to the reception desk.
Lynette raised two fingers. “Two minutes, tops.”
Claire touched the woman’s arm again. “Let’s go have a seat. I’ll need to take you over to the—” Her words faded as the staff door to her left opened and she saw who arrived.
Ty Slattery.
Of course he had to be the one to come to provide assistance.
If she could, she’d cue movie trailer music and one of those announcers with a big, booming voice. Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse…
“Hey, Claire,” Ty said as he approached.
“Hi, um, Dr. Slattery. We’ve, um, got a little issue here.” She groaned inwardly at her awkwardness.
“My son got cut pretty bad,” the woman said.
Ty didn’t even blink at the soaked towel. “You sure did. I think you came to the right place,” he said, his voice caring and kind. “I’m Dr. Slattery. Who are all of you?”
The mom blinked. “I’m Deanna Johns. This is Taylor. And this little thing is Annie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ty replied, just like they were at the park instead of the hospital.
Claire sighed. Honestly, did he have to be so perfect? Time and again she’d seen Ty Slattery work magic with everyone who came in contact with him. For a man who wasn’t all that heart-stoppingly handsome, he sure had a way with women.
When Dr. Slattery faced her, he pointed to the hallway on the opposite side of the room. “I was just about to leave for the day when I heard Lynette’s page. Thought I’d see if I could help out.”
She knew she should tell him thanks.
She knew she should smile back at him. But that felt almost impossible to do. He affected her too much.
Luckily he was ignoring her rudeness. After quickly looking at the trio by Claire’s side, he pointed to a wheelchair parked near the admission desk. “Go grab that, will you? We’ll get Taylor settled.”
Claire hurried to do as Dr. Slattery bid, thinking that his calm, soothing voice was affecting her just the way she’d hoped her smile had reassured Deanna.
Too bad she didn’t want her emotions around him calmed down. No, sir. She needed to be vigilant and on-call around this guy.
Claire wheeled the chair to the teen. He eased into it. Then, before Claire could stop her, Annie scrambled onto her brother’s lap. “Hey, sweetie, you need to let your brother—”
In spite of his injury the boy made room for her, lifting his hand into the air so it wouldn’t get jarred. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, Taylor,” Deanna said, iron in her voice.
“I’ll take Annie while you get fixed up.”
But the little girl cuddled closer.
Claire was just about to pry her away when Ty stopped her. “If we take a ride down the hall, then will you hop off?”
Amazingly, she nodded. Okay, maybe not so amazingly. Everyone—young and old—seemed to have a soft spot for Ty Slattery.
That’s how the five of them ended up walking toward triage, all together, Ty in the lead, Claire pushing the chair and Deanna looking like she was in the middle of a really long streak of bad luck.
Claire knew that look. She had once been an overwhelmed young mom, too. More than a day or two had passed when she’d felt completely in over her head, but nobody had cared.
“Here we go,” Dr. Slattery said, pushing through the stainless steel double doors. As soon as they stepped inside, he picked up the phone and spoke into it.
Claire did her best with the chair, the mother close to her heels. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Deanna said. “I never thought about Taylor getting cut.”
“I know you didn’t.” Claire had never worried about broken glass or torn up cans either. She’d been too worried about feeding Wes. “That’s why they’re called accidents, right?”
The skin around her lips whitening, Deanna kept her focus on her son. “I suppose.”
The teen closed his eyes. As Dr. Slattery spoke with two nurses, Deanna started looking agitated again. Seeking to calm her, Claire smiled. “So, how old is Annie?”
“Almost four.”
“She’s a cutie.”
“Oh, she is. I tell you, more than one stranger’s stopped me and said she needs to be on TV.” After a pause, she added, “When I think of the things we’ve been going through, I can hardly believe it. I always thought I’d be doing better than this.”
Reaching into her pocket, Claire wrote down two numbers. One was for the Applewood Women’s Shelter, the other was her phone number at work. “This place helped me out a couple of years ago. You might want to give them a call. Or, call me if you like and we’ll talk.”
“You?”
Biting her lip, Claire nodded. “Yeah. I know exactly what you’re going through. Applewood helped me a lot.”
Further conversation was prevented by the appearance of the two nurses. “We’ll take care of things now,” one said as she reached for the wheelchair.
Deanna picked up Annie, who started crying. “I’m sorry,” she said. “She just really likes being with Taylor.”
“We’ll be as quick as possible. I’ll come get you after we take a look.” With a genuine, warm smile, Ty said to Claire, “Thanks for your help. We’ll handle this now. You’ll make sure she gets the paperwork done?”
Thanks for her help? Oh, for heaven’s sakes—she was just doing her job. “Yes, doctor.”
Deanna stared at the curtained area all while juggling a squirming Annie in her arms. “I feel awful that I’m not in there with him.”
“I know the feeling, but I promise, right now it would be better for Taylor if you and Annie let Dr. Slattery and the nurses do their jobs. They’re good people, I promise.”
“Do you know that doctor very well?”
“I do.” Claire knew more about Ty Slattery than she wanted to. He was a resident, too handsome, too friendly and four years younger than herself. “Dr. Slattery’s a good doctor.”
After handing Deanna the paperwork again, Claire knew it was time to leave. “You take care, Ms. Johns,” Claire murmured, barely waiting for her to reply before retreating to the safety of the reception area.
But as the double doors whooshed open and Claire stepped through, she didn’t know if she was more anxious to put some space between her and Deanna Johns—a woman who reminded her way too much of her past—or the one man who’d reminded her that maybe she wasn’t as dead inside as she’d previously thought.
“HEY, CLAIRE,” Dr. Slattery called out just as she was heading out to the back parking lot.
Pulling her navy coat a little more tightly closed, Claire did her best to look relaxed. “Hi. Um, is Taylor okay?”
“I think so. Twelve stitches plus a tetanus shot.” He chuckled. “He’s going to have a sore hand for quite a while.”
And more than likely would be sleeping in a car tonight, Claire realized. She should have thought to go back and see if Deanna had any questions about the shelter. She’d meant to, but had forgotten when she’d reached the main reception room. At least a dozen patients had come in while she’d been gone and Lynette’s usual good temper was in short supply. They’d worked nonstop the next four hours.
But Dr. Slattery didn’t need to know any of that. “Well, thanks again for helping us out.”
“Like I said, I’m glad I hadn’t left yet.”
He was so laid-back and easygoing it was everything Claire could do to remember that she didn’t want to lower her guard around him. His calm, caring demeanor reminded Claire that some men might actually be everything they claimed to be. That was always a nice surprise, since Ray, her ex-husband, hadn’t been.
Dr. Slattery stepped closer, effectively making it difficult to forget that she needed to stay far away from him. “How’s Wes?”
“Wes? Fine.”
“Shoulder still doing okay?”
She remembered Dr. Slattery’s hands gently working Wes’s shoulder at a wrestling tournament a good month ago, checking to see if any real harm had been done on that mat. “It’s in shape, if his performance is any indication. He won two wrestling matches last weekend.”
A true smile lit his face. “I can’t believe I was on call all weekend and didn’t get to see a single match. I’ll have to stop by and watch him compete one day soon.”
“I’m sure you’re too busy for that.” When he blinked in surprise, Claire attempted to soften her words with a smile.
“I mean, you’re a resident, and help with the football conditioning at Lane’s End High, too. You can’t watch all the kids all the time, right?”
“I do my best.” He eyed her again, then ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “Are you off duty now?”
“I am.”
“I’m a little too keyed up to go home. Would you like a cup of coffee or something?”
“No.” She bit her lip, then said, “I mean, thanks, but I’ve got to get home to Wes. He’s probably already combing the cupboards for junk to eat.”
He laughed. “He wouldn’t be a teenage boy if he wasn’t.”
Relief rushed through her as she realized he wasn’t going to make a big deal about her refusing him. “He’s barely a teenager…only thirteen.”
“I still find it hard to believe you have an eighth-grader.”
“Yeah, well.” No way was she going to discuss how she got pregnant too early, married the wrong guy for the wrong reasons, and then nearly lost Wes when her marriage and her financial situation fell apart.
Those days would probably seem like another world to such a handsome, successful guy. Correction, young guy. “Well. Good night, Dr. Slattery.”
He flashed a smile. “Maybe we could graduate to first names? It’s Ty.”
Claire knew that she’d been hanging on to some kind of weird, outdated formality by insisting on using his title. She wanted to keep her distance. “All right. Ty.” She smiled to take the sting out of her voice, though she doubted he even felt a pinch. “I better get on home.”
“How about I walk you to your car? It’s dark out here.”
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”
He fell into step beside her. “It’s the least I can do. I’m sure Wes would appreciate someone looking out for his mom.”
Unfortunately, her son had already needed to find someone to look out for his mom. Never again would she be in a situation where she felt dependent or inferior. Never again did she want to depend on a man, even for safety’s sake. “I’m okay.”
“Even so…”
Slowly they walked through along rows of cars and finally stopped in front of her gold Corolla. She shivered a little at the cold, anxious to get in the car and head home.
“This is me. Good night, Ty.”
“For some reason, my schedule’s a little bit lighter this week. Maybe we’ll see each other around sometime soon. I’ll try and make Wes’s next match.”
Even though Wes liked Ty, even though she knew the guy meant his offer innocently, Claire was in no hurry to make any plans with him. She was not in the market for a relationship. And if she was, it definitely wouldn’t be with someone who made her forget all the reasons why she wasn’t in the market in the first place.
But she didn’t want to be rude. It wasn’t Ty’s fault she wasn’t dating material. “Maybe so.” As she turned on the ignition, Claire watched him stride past her parking area to the physician’s lot.
As she pulled out, she saw him behind her, in an Jeep that also looked as if it had seen better days. That took her by surprise—she’d thought all medical residents drove cars at least a little bit nicer than that.
And as she turned left to go one way on the freeway, he went the other.
All served to remind her that there was more separating her and Dr. Ty Slattery than job titles and makes of automobiles.
She’d been widowed, then homeless. She’d collected cans, just like Deanna and Taylor had. She’d almost died and had stayed in the hospital nearly two weeks. Now she lived in a two-bedroom apartment, truly the worst housing in the best school district she could afford.
Ty Slattery had probably never even thought about the exact price of a McDonald’s cheeseburger. She doubted he’d ever worried about his power getting turned off, had probably never been the recipient of pitied stares and too-concerned expressions.
Fumbling for her cell phone, she punched in her home phone number. “Wes, I’m on my way,” she said the minute he answered.
“Good. I’m starved.”
And with that, all Claire’s troubles melted away. There was only one man in her life who mattered and he had size ten feet and was single-handedly trying to eat her out of house and home. “I’ll bring home a pizza,” she said with a smile. “A pizza big enough for two.”
Chapter Two
“Ty, wait up,” Chris Pickett called out just as Ty was paying for his groceries and about to head back out into the frosty parking lot.
Grabbing hold of his two sacks, Ty turned around and waited for his best friend from high school to wheel his loaded shopping cart over. “I can’t believe we’re seeing each other at the grocery store. Who would have ever thought back when we were seniors that we’d be here on a Friday night?”
“I promised Beth I’d pick up some dinner on the way home. She’s been sick as a dog,” Chris explained.
“Morning sickness all day long, huh?”
“Morning, noon and night. Doc, you said by the fifth month she was going to be feeling better.”
“I told you I was the wrong person to ask. I’ve delivered babies but haven’t helped out with too many pregnancies. Give her OB a call.”
“Beth won’t…she doesn’t want to be a bother.” Chris rested his elbows on the handrail of the cart. “That’s why I’m grocery shopping at seven at night. What’s your excuse?”
Ty stepped to the side so two bundled-up teenagers in Lane’s End High black and gold hoodies could squeeze by. “I live alone. I either shop or don’t eat.”
“You’re making things too difficult. You’re supposed to be out at a club or something when you’re single.”
“Not if you’ve just spent the last twelve hours on call,” Ty replied, thinking that his words didn’t tell the half of it.
“I ended up staying two hours later than I intended when a boy with a cut hand came in, followed by a dozen people with the flu.”
“Ah, winter.”
“Yeah.” Ty also had no extra money for clubs or dates, but that was nothing Chris needed to know about.
“Too bad.” Brightening, Chris said, “Hey, want to come over on Sunday and watch the football games?”
“Beth won’t mind?”
“Nah. You always make her smile. Come on over for a free meal, Ty. There’ll be plenty of food.”
Ty raised an eyebrow at the comment. Hmm. Maybe his struggling financial situation wasn’t too much of a secret after all. “Thanks. I’ll double-check my hospital schedule then let you know.”
“Call me either way. You spend too much time working as it is. You could use a little R & R.”
“I’ll call. I promise.”
When Chris’s cell phone started buzzing, Ty waved goodbye and strode out to his car. For a split second, he gave into feelings of jealousy. His buddy from high school had done everything “right.” He’d gone to a nearby college, met Beth, then, after they’d both graduated with business degrees, they had settled into good jobs and had been working their way up the corporate ladder ever since.
Now, after five years of marriage, they were expecting their first child, who was destined to live in a well-kept home and be driven around in some designer station wagon.
He, on the other hand, was trying to finish up his residency and find a job. He also worked when he could for Lane’s End public schools. He helped coach and condition athletes so he could afford a meal out once in a while.
In the distance, Ty saw Chris pull out of the parking lot, still on his cell phone. Most likely, the guy was talking to Beth. Probably talking about that baby again. Ty tried to shrug off his melancholy.
Tiny, icy bits of snow started falling as he drove along the narrow, hilly streets of Lane’s End. The flakes stuck to his windshield like glue. Ty turned the wipers to a higher speed and pressed the button for wiper spray.
In the distance, bells rang from the hundred-year-old steeple at the First Baptist Church. The bright chimes echoed through the streets, lending as much character and personality to Lane’s End as the flowers hanging in baskets around the scenic historic district in the summer.
After catching a green light at the top of Mission Street, Ty finally pulled into his own house, a restored three bedroom home in the heart of downtown Lane’s End that he rented from another doctor. The ancient oak door stuck as he worked the key into the lock, turning it first to the left, then firmly to the right. When he entered, the first real sense of peace washed over him as he carried his grocery sacks into the remodeled kitchen.
Home, at least for now. The ceilings were a little too low, and the wooden floor was scratched and scraped from Maisy’s toenails. A faint chill crawled out of the window frames and the kitchen faucet had a constant, slow drip. But even counting all those flaws, Ty loved the old place. He loved how it made him feel, living in a house that had been home to so many before him.
Ty wasn’t sure why Dr. Michaels had offered him the place to rent for the past two years, but Ty was extremely grateful. Every two years, the elderly doctor offered one of the residents the home to live in for next to nothing. Dr. Michaels jokingly said it was his way of knowing that at least one of the residents was getting enough rest at night.
Ty knew it was a stroke of good luck. If he wasn’t living on Mission Street, some days he thought he’d be living in a mission.
Now, he had a rundown place with lots of personality and a really nice kitchen, thanks to the previous resident who’d accidentally flooded the dishwasher and ruined the floor and cabinetry.
Quickly, Ty emptied his grocery bags, pulling out the boxes of Hungry-Man dinners that had been on sale, along with two boxes of cereal, a case of Ramen noodles, and a gallon of milk. After picking out the Salisbury steak dinner, Ty leaned back against the counter as the microwave did its magic.
Maisy hopped off the couch and finally came over to say hello.
“How are you doing, girl?” he asked his old retriever.
“You keep everything running smooth today?”
Maisy lifted her muzzle so he could scratch her behind her ears. He let her outside and as Ty watched his old dog carefully make her way down the snow-covered back steps, he sipped a beer and thought about the woman he’d been trying so hard to ignore: Claire Grant.
From the moment he saw her hovering over her son at the wrestling meet, he’d been charmed. There was something so delicate about her…though he was quickly finding out that she was hardly fragile at all.
No, behind those wide-set golden eyes and dark blond hair was a woman who relied on herself. All practicality and patience.
He’d seen something in her son at the meets that reminded him of himself. He saw something in her manner that reminded him of the not-so-good places he’d been. He’d heard phrases he knew well. Words that didn’t say much but effectively covered up not-so-good circumstances. He saw pretty smiles that never quite reached the eyes.
And one day, weeks ago, he’d heard her tell her coworker Lynette she was “fine.” And that “fine” told him so much.
He should know—he’d had plenty of experience telling everyone he was fine when inside he was feeling like a lit match.
Those similarities had intrigued him. They made him want to get to know her better. And for a split second, he’d thought she felt the same way. But she’d rebuffed his clumsy offer of coffee.
He had enough of an ego to first be taken aback. He thought he looked pretty good, he had a good job. He was stable. All those things counted, right?
He’d thought they did.
So why had she said no? Was it really because of Wes?
Was it because she didn’t date? Or, was it that she didn’t want to date him?
Maisy’s scratching at the door brought him back to the present. “Let’s have some dinner, girl,” he said, pouring a cupful of Mighty Munchies into her bowl.
As Maisy attacked her food with gusto, Ty made a mental note to visit Wes’s next wrestling match. It wouldn’t do any harm to check on the boy’s shoulder. At the very least, Claire looked like she could use another friend. He supposed he could, too.
As the latest basketball results filled the TV screen, he almost felt happy. Maybe for once everything was going to work out.
HE FELT DIFFERENTLY at three in the morning. With a weary hand, Ty rubbed his eyes and moved to the edge of his bed, too-tense muscles once again warring with an active mind. Four hours tonight.
All in all, that was pretty good.
He didn’t sleep. He hadn’t since college, when he’d worked and studied at odd hours. Now, in his residency, sleep was a catch-can thing, too.
He just wished night demons wouldn’t plague him all the while and make things worse. Because the night was when he remembered the heartbreak of Sharon.
And he could still remember exactly what she’d said. There was no way she wanted to be saddled with a guy who was going to owe more money than she could imagine making during the next couple of years. And, well, she’d met someone else. An older guy who’d just been hired on at a big investment firm. It was time to call it quits.
Ty didn’t need a counselor to tell him that his mother’s leaving, his father’s lack of warm fuzzies and his girlfriend’s betrayal was enough to deliver a whopper of a punch. For a lifetime.
And it had.
Oh, he’d gotten through it, it was what he did best—what he’d learned to do back when he was a kid and nobody was around to get him up in the morning.
You didn’t complain. You did the best you could and tried to feel satisfied. You learned not to trust other people because sometimes things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to.
But maybe it was time to do things a little differently. Maybe it was time to start living again.
Chapter Three
“Claire, I really appreciate you helping us out,” Gene Davidson said from the doorway leading into the concession stand the following Saturday. “We were really shorthanded for volunteers at today’s meet.”
“It’s not a problem, coach,” she replied, muscling the giant amount of pancake batter in the industrial-size bowl. Feeding almost a hundred wrestlers after weigh-ins required an amazing amount of pancakes! “I’m a team parent. We all have to help out sooner or later.”
“Wes told me you’ve been putting in a lot of hours at the hospital. I bet you’d rather be sleeping at six-thirty on a Saturday morning.”
Claire wondered why Gene even brought that up. She was pretty sure all the parents on the team worked hard and would rather be sleeping in.
“Wes has to be here anyway,” she said with a smile.
“Don’t worry about me.”
Gene held up a hand. “I’m not worried, I just wanted you to know I appreciate your time.”
Claire’s shoulders relaxed as she realized she wasn’t going to have to go to battle with the man to prove once again that she was stronger than she looked.
As yet another rush of boys passed, their hair sticking straight up and sleepy expressions on their faces, Claire stopped stirring for a moment and tried to find Wes.
He’d been grumpy this morning, answering all her questions with one-word answers. Claire wondered if he was more nervous about the meet than he let on.
Unfortunately, Claire didn’t see a hint of her son in the crowd of teenagers. Only a familiar man leaning against the wall near the kitchen entrance and checking off something on a clipboard.
Ty Slattery smiled when their eyes met. “Way to put Coach Davidson in his place,” he said, making it obvious he’d heard every word of her previous conversation. “I bet he won’t say a word next time you show up early to make pancakes.”
Oops. “Did I sound rude?”
“Not rude, just a little brusque.” Stepping forward, he said, “How are you this morning?”
“I’m fine.”
“Glad to hear it.”
The look Ty gave her, so warm and caring, made Claire stir the batter with a little more force than necessary. Made her think maybe he was more attractive than she’d originally thought.
His look made Claire feel like she was missing something. Made her remember that once upon a time she believed in dreams and fairy tales. In happily-ever-afters.
No way was she ever going down that path again. “You’re here early, too.”
“I’m working today—helping to coach and with any medical emergencies.”
“Gene should have been thanking you for your time. I know you’ve been putting in long hours at the hospital—practically every time I’ve come in your name has been listed as one of the doctors on duty.”
He shrugged off her comment. “It’s part of being a resident, I guess. Fortunately, this last rotation of mine is not too intense. I’ve got more days and weekends off than I can ever remember having.”
More kids wandered by. Jill Young, another wrestling parent, reached behind her to get cooking spray. “I’ll get started on the griddle, Claire.”
Claire was just about to say her goodbyes to Ty when he spoke again. “Coach asked if I’d check out a couple of kids for Lane’s End and the other competing teams. I decided to catch them while they weighed in. I’ll be sure and take a good look at Wes’s shoulder.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Because he was still standing there—even though they’d both commented on how busy they were and how much there still was to do—she said, “You can come back for pancakes when you’re done.”
“Are you finally agreeing to have a meal with me, Claire?”
“I’m offering to make you some pancakes, Dr. Slattery.”
After almost a full minute, Ty replied. “I’ll take you up on that. Beggars and choosers, you know.”
Just like she’d touched a barbed wire, a little zing charged right through her when he smiled again before turning to another group of incoming boys.
With more care than necessary, Claire picked up the whisk and attacked the batter again. No. She so did not need to even think about Ty Slattery…or her reaction to him.
Surely there had to be something about him she didn’t like. His smile? No, she liked that fine. The way he looked in those baggy khakis, like he’d rolled out of bed into the first pair of trousers that were available? No, rumbled clothes had never bothered her.
Maybe she really didn’t like the way he was always around. Always so helpful, like she didn’t have a mind of her own. Maybe it was his playful semi-flirting.
Yeah. That’s what she didn’t like. She didn’t like that one bit.
Claire, you’re worthless! Ray’s voice charged forth from the dead. Reminding her that she didn’t need—or want—a man in her life.
She might make pancakes for men. She might even serve them with a smile. But she sure as heck didn’t need to have them flirting with her. No way. No how.
“You okay, Claire? I think the batter’s called a truce,” Jill said.
With a clatter, the spoon hit the side of the stainless steel bowl. “Sorry, I don’t know where my mind went. I think I’ll go check on the syrup.”
Claire scurried out before Jill could say a word about that.
FIVE HOURS LATER, Wes slipped a burnished pewter-colored medal around his neck. “It’s only fourth place, Mom,” he said modestly, though his eyes told a whole different story. In them, Claire saw triumph and pride, two things that she knew were hard to obtain.
“Fourth place is terrific! We’ll have to put that medal on the wall at home.”
Wes looked over at the boy from a neighboring district wearing the gold medal. “It’s not that big a deal.”
His hot and cold bursts were wearing her out. “I think it is. If they didn’t think fourth place was special, they wouldn’t have made a medal for it, now would they?”
His chin rose and, in his eyes, a faint glimmer of pride shone for a moment. “I never thought of that.”
Unable to stop herself from touching him, Claire brushed back a thatch of hair from his forehead. “That’s why you have me, honey. To remind you.”
Like a flash, her son’s expression changed again. “Mom!”
“What?”
“Don’t call me that,” he whispered. “And don’t do that, either.”
Claire felt like she’d just been slapped. “Don’t do what?” For the life of her, all she could remember doing was being encouraging. “Wes, I’m just trying—”
“Stop, Mom.”
As Wes ran off to the locker room to wash as well as he could and get changed, Claire sat back down, letting her shoulders slump in the near empty stands.
“You okay?”
Ty. For once, she didn’t even care that he was nearby. Again. Right that minute, she could use a friend. Any friend. Correction, any understanding person. “Yeah.”
“You don’t look like it.”
Resting her elbows on her thighs, Claire said, “It’s nothing. Just teenage boy stuff. It’s all new to me.”
“What? You weren’t a teenage boy once?”
That made her laugh. “You’re right. I never thought I’d say this, but this is when I miss having a brother. I seem to really be messing up this afternoon.”
As boys and parents wandered around, picking up old Gatorade bottles, sweatpants and smelly socks, Claire kept her attention on the locker room door.
Ty kept his attention on Claire. He knew she was a single mom, but didn’t know much about her past. He also couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t mention Wes’s dad. Giving in to impulse, he said, “Where is Wes’s dad?”
Her eyes became guarded again. “Gone.”
“Oh.” Yep, that question had been a mistake. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s no secret.” Finally sparing him a glance, Claire shrugged and added, “He passed away about three years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We were separated before that. We had a lot of problems. He, um, wasn’t a good husband. But he did love Wes. In his own way, at least. I guess that counts for something, huh?”
Thinking back to his own childhood, where his dad did the best he could even though a lot of times it wasn’t too good at all, Ty nodded.
Claire tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled weakly. “Sorry, I’m not one of those people who loves to talk about themselves.”
He got that. He didn’t like to talk about himself, either.
And because her announcement was so refreshing, sounded so good, he wanted to know more. What had happened with her husband? He hadn’t been a good husband? What did that mean? What had happened to her?
Since she obviously didn’t want to speak of it, he gestured to the boys’ locker room. “What set Wes off?”
“I praised fourth place and called him ‘honey.’” Biting her bottom lip, Claire said, “At least I think that’s what I did wrong.”
“Not so good to a competitive, tough wrestler. Almost fighting words.”
Surprise and a bit of humor filled her gaze. “You get it.”
“Unlike you, I was a boy once.”
As they watched Wes, dressed in gray sweats and carrying an old backpack on his shoulder, leave the locker room with two other boys, Ty noticed a ribbon around the boy’s neck, though the medal was tucked under his sweatshirt. “Something tells me he’s prouder of that medal than he let on.”
“You think so?” Hope sprang to life in her eyes. “When I said that I thought fourth place was great, he glared. I keep saying the wrong things today.”
“Ever think that maybe you’re saying everything right and it’s Wes who’s taking everything wrong?”
“No. I need to support Wes. To be the best person I possibly can for him. I’ll just have to work on my words with him a little bit more.”
Wes picked up his pace as he approached. “Hi, Dr. Slattery.”
“Hi.”
Wes looked at him curiously. Claire probably would never see it, but there was a definite look of possession in the boy’s posture. Wes put it into words. “What are you doing here with my mom? My shoulder was good today.”
“It looked like it. I just wanted to tell you I saw your pin in that last match. How many seconds did that last? Thirty?”
“Coach said twenty-eight.”
There was a hint of a swagger in Wes’s voice. Ty firmly kept his expression low-key instead of smiling. “Impressive.”
“Yeah. I’m not very good. Some guys on the squad did youth wrestling, so they’ve got lots of experience. I’m getting better, though.”
“Good enough to place, huh?”
Wes fingered the ribbon around his neck. “Yeah. I was really surprised. This is just my second year. Coach said I did a good job.”
Though Claire was quiet, Ty noticed she was loving the amount of information Wes was divulging. Obviously, the boy had mastered the “I’m fine, nothing’s new” routine. Because he was intrigued by Claire’s past and because it looked like Wes could use a buddy, he impulsively said, “Hey, I was thinking about going out for chili. Are you hungry, Wes? Maybe we could all grab something to eat.”
“I’m starved.” After glancing his mom’s way, he tempered his response. “I mean, yeah, I could probably eat.”
Now all Ty had to do was convince Wes’s mom to give him a chance. “Do you like Cincinnati chili, Claire?”
She blinked. “Not really.”
“Oh. Well, they have other things at Skyline,” he said quickly. Why hadn’t he offered to go out for burgers? “I think they have salads there.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think—”
“It’s just food, Claire. I promise.”
“Thanks, but maybe some other time.” Turning to her son, she said, “Wes, are you ready to go home?”
Wes hadn’t moved. “No. I’m starving, Mom. Why can’t we go out to eat? We never go out to eat.”
Something dimmed in her eyes. “That’s because—”
Quickly Ty spoke. The last thing he’d wanted to happen was to bring up a touchy subject. “You sure about dinner? We could go to Wendy’s or something—”
After another look at Wes, Claire said, “You know what? Chili’s fine.”
“So that means we can go?” Wes asked.
“I think fourth place deserves a special treat.” Hesitantly, she glanced Ty’s way. “Are you sure you have time to eat with us, Dr. Slattery?”
Wes rolled his eyes. “Mom, he asked us.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want your company,” Ty stressed.
“Please, Mom?”
“All right, then. We’ll meet you there. For chili.”
“Great. I’ll go ahead and get us a table.” Ty walked out before Claire could change her mind.
Of course, Ty didn’t know if Claire had ultimately agreed because she, too, knew there was something tangible between them…or if she was only thinking of her son.
At the moment, he didn’t want to know.
Chapter Four
After edging her Corolla out of the icy parking lot and onto the salt-treated streets, Claire sneaked a peek at Wes.
Without a word, he’d tossed his backpack on the backseat and climbed in next to her. Now he was pushing buttons on the radio, flipping stations every twenty seconds. With each push, clips of loud music burst out of the speakers, jarring Claire even more than the chunks of gravel and snow under the wheels of the car. “Choose a station now, Wes.”
“I’m trying.”
“Choose or the radio’s going off,” she said, purposely injecting a tone that welcomed no argument.
His finger hovered over the knob before he defiantly turned it off himself. “Fine. Now nothing’s on. Happy?”
Claire bit back a sigh as she slowly rolled to a stop at the light. What in the world was going on with him? Was this typical teen behavior? Something more?
Instead of berating him for his attitude, she cast him a worried look. “What’s wrong? You okay?”
“I guess.”
Something was wrong. That gravelly tone in his voice only came when he was on the verge of tears. “Listen, I’m sorry I snapped about the radio, but it’s hard to concentrate on the road when a different song clicks on every two seconds. You’ll understand when you’re driving.”
“That’s a long time from now.”
“Not so long. Just three years.”
“That’s forever.”
As the light turned green and she accelerated, Claire privately knew better. Forever was never a long time.
For years, it had just been the two of them. Wes probably didn’t realize it, but he was her stability, her rock. No matter what was going on in their lives, she could count on Wes to be her partner. Now it looked like that relationship was changing.
“You can try the radio again if you want.”
After a moment’s pause, Wes pushed the button and again went through the whole process, just like he hadn’t heard a word she said. As Christina got replaced by Pink and then by some rapper, Claire had had enough. Pushing the power button in, an abrupt silence permeated the interior of the car.
Wes scowled. “What did you do that for?”
“You know why. You pushing button after button gives me a headache.”
“There’s no good music on.”
“I told you we could pop in a cassette.”
“Mom, your car has to be the only one in Ohio that still has a cassette player. We need a CD player. Or better yet, an iPod. You can get an attachment so you can hear your iPod in the car.”
So much for Wes being her partner. If he was, he’d realize she was pretty darn happy to have a car, an apartment, food and money in the bank. “Maybe next year.”
“It’s always next year.”
“We used to hope for the very things we have now,” she pointed out, just about at the end of her patience. “I’m surprised you’ve forgotten what life was like, living in our van.”
He slumped. “I haven’t forgotten. I just get sick of never having what everyone else has. Here in Lane’s End everyone has stuff I don’t.”
“Even rich kids want things they don’t have, Wes. You need to learn to be happy with what you’ve got. Count your blessings.”
“You tell me that every day.”
“Obviously I need to. What is going on with you? Is it the wrestling meet? Is your shoulder bothering you?”
“No.”
“What? And don’t say nothing. We’re almost at Skyline Chili. I don’t want you pulling this attitude in front of Dr. Slattery—especially since he was nice enough to ask us out to eat.”
His eyes narrowed. “How come he invited us, anyway? How come Dr. Slattery is always talking to you?”
Well, there it was. Wes was wondering what was going on with Ty and herself. And since she didn’t really know, Claire decided to slowly feel her way through the conversation. “I didn’t realize Ty was always talking to me.”
“Mom, he sat near you when he ate pancakes. I saw. Now he wants us to go out for chili with him.”
“Why are you asking me about this now? You’re the one who wanted to go out to eat. I tried to go home. Remember?”
“I remember. It’s just that we never go out to eat.”
“You know the reason for that. So, you only wanted to go out because it’s a restaurant meal?”
“Maybe I like talking to Dr. Slattery sometimes. He’s pretty cool. For someone so old.”
Claire curbed a smile. The way Wes spoke, it sounded like Ty was ancient. And she definitely knew her son liked being around men and doing “guy” stuff. Maybe this meal wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Choosing her words carefully, Claire said, “You know, Ty is pretty cool. And going out to eat during the week is pretty special. Maybe he feels the same way. Dr. Slattery lives alone, you know.”
The conversation paused as Claire slowly turned right, then left. There weren’t too many cars on the street, which was a real blessing. The little Corolla did okay in bad weather but was no match against the powerful SUVs that seemed to be the norm in Lane’s End.
Like Wes, sometimes she found herself wishing for things she didn’t have.
Wes broke the silence just as the bright blue and yellow Skyline Chili sign loomed about a hundred yards away. “So. Do you like him?”
“I like Dr. Slattery fine.”
“I mean like a boyfriend.”
The question was as jarring as the mishmash of rock tunes had been. “No. I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve already been married. Once was enough for me.”
“He’s probably rich. Doctors always are.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s rich or not. We’re joining him for dinner, not a future,” she attempted to explain as finally—finally—they pulled into the parking lot and parked. “There is a difference.”
“I know that. But, if you did date him, I wouldn’t care. Very much.”
What would he not care about? That she was dating? That it was Ty? That he was rich? “Thank you for that.”
The car was still running. Conscious of the price of gasoline, she turned off the engine but made no move to get out.
Claire had a feeling that Ty was looking out the window and wondering why they hadn’t just unbuckled and gone on in. But this was important. Hesitantly, she said, “Do you want to talk about things?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
That almost made her laugh. As far as Claire was concerned, they had everything to talk about! “Everything changes, Wes. You’re growing up and becoming more independent. I’m working hard and learning to be independent, too. I guess it’s no longer just the two of us against the world.”
“When we were in the shelter—we had Tessa and Keaton.”
Thinking of Tessa, who’d helped her so much while she’d been in the hospital and Keaton Phillips, the cop her friend had married, Claire said softly, “We still have them. You stay with them one weekend a month still.”
“I like my visits with them.”
“Do you want to see them more often?” Claire’s heart broke, wondering if she was ever going to be good enough for her son.
“No.” His hand on the door, he turned to her. “I’m sorry I said all that about the radio.”
“I know. I’m sorry we don’t have a CD player.”
Twin splotches of color stained his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that, either.”
“It’s okay to want things, honey. I want things, too.”
“I’m saving for an iPod.”
“That’s good. I’m saving for a new couch. But while I’m looking forward to everything I want, I think I’m going to go enjoy a dinner out with a man who wants to be our friend. Sound like a plan?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then. Let’s not keep him waiting any longer. He’ll think we stood him up.”
Wes’s eyes widened. Before Claire had even put the keys in her purse, he’d scrambled out of the car, hopped up on the sidewalk and run into the restaurant.
She followed at a much slower pace.
TY AND WES were already diligently reading menus when she arrived in the seating area after taking a quick trip to the ladies’ room to wash her hands. To her surprise, he stood up when she arrived at the table.
Wes narrowed his eyes. “What’d you do that for?”
“You stand up when a woman comes to the table,” Ty answered. “It’s good manners.”
“Oh.” After a moment, Wes said, “Where’d you learn that?”
“My coach in high school. He was a stickler for things like standing up and saying yes, ma’am.”
“Mom’s never made me say ma’am. She’s never made me stand up for her, either.”
With a wink in her direction, Ty said, “You don’t stand up because a lady asks you to. You stand up because it’s the right thing to do.” As he scooted back in his chair, he added, “Don’t worry, Wes. You’ll get the hang of it all and, if you don’t, more people will step in to tell you what to do. My wrestling coaches in college spent hours giving me advice about how to get along in life.”
Wes’s eyes widened with a new respect. “You wrestled in college? I didn’t know that.”
Claire hadn’t known that, either.
“Yep. I went to school on a wrestling scholarship. No one set up any college fund for me growing up.”
There was more than a trace of bitterness in Ty’s voice. Wes must have caught it, too, because he said, “Was college wrestling hard?”
“Yep. But, that was okay. Working hard has never been an issue for me. I had big dreams and I found a way to pay for them. That was lucky.”
Claire liked Ty’s spin on life. That he was lucky to be hardworking and goal-oriented. How many people looked at things from the complete opposite view point? Like they deserved more than they had?
Wes shifted in his seat, a sure sign that he was interested. “So that’s why you go to so many wrestling meets. Because you used to wrestle.”
“Partly,” Ty replied, sending a shuttered look her way.
Claire received that look with some trepidation. What was he really saying? That he came to the meets to see her?
That made her uncomfortable.
Oh, not because he found her attractive. No, what made her uncomfortable was that she liked his interest. She swallowed hard, hoping to calm the knot in her stomach.
She needed to get a grip on herself, pronto! There was nothing romantic between them. And there couldn’t be, ever.
After ordering sodas, cheese Coneys and 5-way spaghetti dinners all around, Wes saw a buddy of his. He bummed two dollars off Claire then joined his friend at the video arcade until the food arrived.
“Are you ever going to take off that coat?” Ty asked.
Quickly, she shrugged it off. “Sorry. I don’t know where my mind is tonight.” But she did. It was revolving around Ty, her attraction to him and the multitude of warning signals that were going off…reminding her that he was Mr. Unsuitable. Correction—Dr. Unsuitable. He was too young, too polished and too rich.
But he still had a great demeanor. He smiled, warming her insides. “Don’t apologize for a thing, Claire. I just hoped you’d get comfortable around me. That’s all.”
Their sodas came. Claire sipped her root beer gratefully as she tried to think of something to say. Finally, she settled on their jobs. “How does your schedule work? Are you in the hospital all week?”
“I’m with a private physician one day a week, then spend the rest of the time in the emergency room at the hospital.”
“And then you’ll be up at the high school, working with the kids?”
“When I can.” He shrugged off his crazy schedule like it was no big deal. “What about you?”
“Oh, I have pretty much the same schedule every day. On most days I work from eight to three. On Wednesdays I go in early and leave around noon.”
“Then you’re off to your other job, huh?”
He’d lost her. “What do you mean?”
“Being a mom?”
Glancing in her son’s direction, Claire couldn’t help but smile. “Yes. Lately, that’s been just as challenging.”
“If you handle motherhood like Deanna, I’d say you’re doing all right. I had a chance to visit with her after I got Taylor patched up. She’s a nice lady who really cares about her kids.”
“I agree.” Remembering Deanna and the tumble of emotions that the woman brought forth, Claire shook her head. “I hope they’ll be okay. I gave her the name of a shelter.”
“She mentioned that. If I had to guess, I’d say her luck was about to change.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. Something tells me there’s more to her than meets the eye. Some people are kind of like my house, a little rundown, but inside, they’re in pretty good shape.”
Claire laughed at the analogy. “Your place is like that, doctor? And here I thought you’d have a manicured lawn and organized cupboards.”
“That’s not me at all. I have very little in my cupboards, which is a good thing, because Maisy would probably find a way to get into them and chew everything in sight.”
Wes joined them right at that minute. “Who’s Maisy?”
“My dog. She’s an old golden retriever.”
“I love dogs,” Wes said. Over his head, Claire shared a smile with Ty. Wes’s dream had always been to have a dog of his own.
“Maybe one day you’ll get a chance to meet her,” Ty said offhandedly. “If you two do get the chance to meet, I’m sure the feeling will be mutual. Maisy loves everyone.”
Their chili came. Claire picked at hers. She’d never been one to totally love the chili-spaghetti-cheese-and-onion combo that everyone else in the city seemed to crave. Of course, it didn’t really matter what was on her plate, anyway. The reason she was at Skyline was to make Wes happy.
With a lump in her throat, Claire realized Wes was having the time of his life. He really liked being around Ty. And Ty, for his part, seemed to know all the right things to say to her son.
She couldn’t help but notice how skillfully Ty guided the conversation with Wes, discussing dogs and wrestling and video games with an ease she never had.
After a half hour of conversation, the check came. She’d just pulled out a twenty when Ty stood up to go pay at the counter. “Put that away. This is my treat.”
“I can pay our way.”
“It’s just chili. You can pay next time.”
Claire was just about to fumble her way through—not being sure there was going to be a next time—when Wes spoke up. “Mom likes to cook.”
Ty’s blue eyes issued a challenge. “How about you invite me over for dinner someday?”
Claire didn’t trust herself to reply. She was afraid if she opened her mouth, she’d do something stupid, like actually offer an invitation. The next thing she knew, she’d be thinking about a real date with Ty. And that would be a huge mistake.
Unfortunately, her son had no such reservations. “How about next Saturday night?”
Claire’s stomach rolled as Ty grinned. “How about next Saturday night, Claire? Would you like to have dinner together then?”
She glanced at Wes. Once again, she saw hope in his eyes. He liked Ty—he liked him a lot. And, well, she couldn’t buy him iPods or new furniture, but she could cook Ty dinner, right?
True desperation engulfed her, making her feel anxious and…excited? “Sure. Why not? Next Saturday night would be fine.”
Chapter Five
“Girl, you’ve got a date with a doc-tor,” Lynette sang to Claire when the waiting room was empty for the first time since they’d started their shift.
“He’s a resident.”
“Shoot, that counts! You just raised yourself a good two feet, in my estimation.” She paused, looking Claire over with her famous dark-as-night eyes. “Or just lowered yourself into my black book. Everyone knows doctors are egotistical jerks.”
Everyone who knew Lynette Brown knew that her “black book” was the opposite of the proverbial bachelor’s. Inside her book were lists of people she didn’t care to associate with.
Well, so she said.
“Yep, as soon as I get out my pen, I’m going to have to hover it over the Gs and once again weigh the pros and cons of your clearheaded thinking.” Pursing her lips, she added, “Or lack thereof.”
Claire didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or to hit Lynette with the file folder she was carrying. She settled for doing her best to maintain dignity. One of them had to do that, after all. “Stop.”
“No way! This is the most exciting thing I’ve heard about since Jobeth over in radiology announced she was having twins!”
Jobeth’s news had been good. This news was…strange. “Let’s just drop it, can we?”
“Not on your life.”
“Now I’m sorry I told you.”
“I’m not.” Waggling her freshly waxed eyebrows, Lynette whispered, “What else you got going in that top-secret life of yours? You inherit a bunch of money, too?”
“My life’s not top secret.”
“It feels that way. You never give me any news.”
That was because there wasn’t any news to tell. Usually, she liked it that way, too.
Claire couldn’t even joke about her situation. From the moment she’d said yes last Saturday night she’d felt like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff, just one more misstep and she’d fall through the air. It was only because Ty was coming over the following evening—tomorrow night!—that she’d broken her normal code of silence.
Which had not been a good idea. Lynette’s ribbing had been constant and full of mischief.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Forget I even told you.”
“No way. This is the first time I’ve ever heard you knew people of the opposite sex. Most days, you never even notice when a man comes waltzing in our double doors.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“Pretty close.” Glancing toward the doors fondly, Lynette murmured, “Remember Hunk-O-Man?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes. Not Hunk-O-Man again.”
“Why not? He was the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen in this Petri dish of a waiting room. Blond, blue-eyed, tan. Tall. Cover-model worthy.”
Claire had to admit Hunk-O-Man had been memorable. Especially since he’d only come in with a jammed thumb—nothing infectious. And when they’d found out he’d hurt himself while climbing onto his neighbor’s roof to fix a broken shingle, he’d gone down in waiting-room history as Lynette’s model of the perfect man. Rugged and thoughtful.
Still talking, Lynette said, “I thought we were pretty close, but I’ve never, ever heard you talk about going on a date.”
“That’s because I don’t date. I’m a widow, remember?”
“Well, I’m just glad you’re doing something. Finally. And if it has to be with Dr. Ty I’m-handsome-as-sin Slattery, so be it.”
Claire was saved from a reply by the arrival of an elderly couple sick with the flu and a teenager who’d cut his knees in a bike accident. Dutifully, she escorted them to a semi-private cubicle and took down their vital information.
But in between, she kept thinking back to the heart of what Lynette had been saying. Why now? Why Ty?
Claire could come up with a million reasons she said yes, all having to do with Wes. Still feeling residual guilt for everything she’d put him through when they’d been living on the streets, Claire knew she’d do everything within her power to give Wes what he wanted.
Well, everything within reason.
Had she only said yes because the dinner invitation had been the first thing that sparked life into his eyes during his current grumpy phase?
Maybe.
Or maybe she, too, had a soft spot for Ty. And dinner was dinner…not romance and flowers.
“Ty’s nice,” she told Lynette when they were once again standing behind the counter.
As if sensing she’d teased enough, Lynette squeezed her hand. “I’m glad. Nice is good.”
“We’re just friends, you know. Ty knows Wes from wrestling. In fact, Wes is the one who invited him over.” Claire fought to maintain her look of innocence. Yep, that was Claire Grant, always putting her boy’s needs first.
Lynette’s lips twitched. “Well, I’m glad he did.”
Claire’s stomach was so jumpy, she couldn’t honestly say the same thing. In fact, as the hours to the big dinner marched closer, she was sure it all was a very bad idea.
Really bad.
Especially since they hadn’t discussed any details since their dinner at Skyline. She hadn’t seen Ty more than from a distance all week. He hadn’t called her, either. Maybe she’d just imagined they had dinner plans?
Then, just when she was sure she’d made too much out of We ought to have dinner together on Saturday night, there he was, waiting for her at the end of her shift. “Ty. Hi.”
He smiled right back. “Hi. Hey, Lynette.”
“Dr. Slattery.” Lynette pressed a palm behind Claire’s back and pushed her forward.
Claire moved out from behind the reception desk and a whole lot closer to Ty. “Is, uh, anything wrong?”
“No. I just thought I’d walk you out to your car. It’s dark out.”
Feeling like she was back in high school, Claire sneaked a peek at Lynette before walking to his side. Lynette gave a little wave in response.
Then he was taking her coat from her vise grip and helping her put it on. “Thanks.” Summoning up something to say, she said, “Listen, I’m so glad you’re here. We probably ought to talk about—”
He interrupted. “Hold on, let me make sure I heard that right. You’re glad to see me?”
She rolled her eyes. She was cooking him a meal for Wes. So he could have a man’s company. Not because she wanted to be around Ty. “I was going to say that I needed to give you directions to my house. And, uh, do you like pasta?”
He smiled. “I like everything.”
“I have a recipe for baked ziti. It’s nothing fancy, but—”
“I meant it when I said I like everything,” he said quietly. Slow, like she needed extra time to process his words. And maybe she did. Claire noticed she got suspiciously tongue-tied whenever he was nearby. “I’m sure whatever you make will be great.”
“All right, then.” Breathe deep, she cautioned herself. Don’t think of anything except right now. Unbidden, advice from a counselor flashed clear as day, like a photographer had just stepped into her life and carefully documented a moment in time. Concentrate on today.
Claire supposed Ty’s proximity was making her feel the same way that she used to—flustered. Uncertain. In fact, when he’d halted her dinner talk by resting one hand on her arm, she’d flinched—a knee-jerk reaction to a man’s touch.
He noticed. Just as quickly, he pulled his hand away, an expression crossing his face that Claire knew had everything to do with caution and care.
As the murky glow of the parking-lot light shone upon them and the topic of dinner and what to serve had been exhausted, Claire tried to cover up the burst of tension she felt whenever she was near him. “Looks like snow again.”
Very systematically, Ty placed both hands behind his back. Showing her that he wasn’t going to touch her again without her consent.
Making her realize he knew more about her than she’d thought.
“It sure does look like snow,” he murmured.
Frustrated with herself, with her body’s reaction to sudden touches—thanks to one randomly violent ex-husband—Claire deposited her tote bag on the hood of her car and hastily pulled out a pen and paper.
“My place is easy to get to from here,” she said, unable to bring herself to discussing her flinching. Of course, what could she say? That she was holding on to a bag of past experiences so tightly that it was a wonder she could ever loosen her grip? “Do you know Lane’s End very well?”
“Pretty well. I live here, too.”
Why didn’t she know that? She’d just assumed he lived farther into Cincinnati. In expensive Hyde Park or one of the more trendy places where up-and-coming singles lived.
“I’m in the Arrowlake Apartments.”
“Off Main?”
“Yep.”
She wrote down quick directions even as she said them out loud. “If you go in the second entrance, we’re the far back building…F. Wes and I are on the second floor. Apt. 210F.”
“What time?”
“Seven?”
“Seven’s just fine. I’ll see you and Wes tomorrow night at seven o’clock.”
Their fingers touched when the note was passed. For the first time, though, Ty didn’t look attentive, only troubled. “Would you like me to bring anything?”
“No, it’s my treat, remember?”
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