Three Little Words
Page 3“Hey,” he said. He raised his basket. “Food shopping.”
“Me, too.” She glanced at the package of steaks and the six-pack of beer. “That’s your idea of dinner?”
“You have ice cream and red wine.”
“I have salad,” she said with a sniff. “That makes me virtuous.”
“It makes you a rabbit. And hungry.” The smile turned to a grin. “I saw a grill on your patio the other day. Why don’t we pool our resources?”
A tempting offer. “You want the wine and the ice cream.”
“True, but I’ll eat the salad, just to be polite.”
“Such a guy. Do you know how to use the grill? It’s big and seems complicated.”
One eyebrow rose. “I was born knowing how. It’s in my DNA.”
“Which seems like a waste of genetic material.”
Somehow they were walking. She didn’t remember making a decision about accepting his offer, but there they were, in line to pay. Five minutes later they were in the parking lot and heading to their cars.
They got to his first.
“Seriously?” she asked, staring at the black Jeep.
“It’s a classic.”
She pointed to the gold paint on the side. “It has flames. Jeeps have a long history of faithful service. Why would you torture yours like that?”
“You don’t like it? Why not? The flames are cool.”
“No. Consuelo’s car is cool. Yours is kind of embarrassing.”
“I bought it right after your sister dumped me for my best friend. I wasn’t myself.”
“That was fourteen years ago. Why haven’t you sold it?”
“I never drive it and it’s in great condition. When I decided to move back, Ethan got it ready for me.”
“Being seen near it must have humiliated him,” she teased, knowing Ford’s brother would have been happy to help. “Doesn’t Angel drive a Harley?”
Ford frowned at the mention of his business partner. “How do you know that?”
“It’s hard to miss a guy like him in black leather and driving a motorcycle in Fool’s Gold.”
“You drive a Prius,” he said. “You don’t get to make judgments.”
“You mean because I drive a safe, sensible, environmentally friendly car?”
“Logic,” he muttered. “Just like a woman.”
He helped her load her groceries, which consisted of a single bag. Something she could have handled herself. Still, it was kind of nice to have a man do that for her. Eric had supported her desire for equality, letting her lug her half of the groceries when they went shopping. Which was perfectly fair, she reminded herself. If not especially romantic.
Ford followed her home. She couldn’t escape his hideously painted Jeep in her rearview mirror. Even a broken heart was no excuse to mutilate such a hardworking vehicle.
“Works for me.”
She went into her house and set everything on the counter in the kitchen. The sun had dipped to the other side of the house, leaving this part mostly in shadow. She flipped on overhead lights. The oak cabinets were only a few years old and the yellow tile she remembered from her childhood had been replaced with granite.
She thought briefly about dashing into her bathroom and fluffing her appearance. After a long day at the store, she was sure she had mascara under her eyes and very flat hair. Plus, her dress was plain. Not only had she worked in New York, where wearing black was practically the law, she now had a job in a bridal gown store. It was important to look professional while never, ever outshining the bride. She had a wardrobe of simple, stylish black dresses—the “office appropriate” kind, not the LBD kind.
Not that she was looking to slip into an evening gown or anything, but still. She settled on kicking off her heels and rolling up the long sleeves of her dress. That was plenty. She was only having dinner with her neighbor. There was no reason to spruce. Besides, until a couple of days ago, his last memory of her was of a fourteen-year-old girl, chasing him down the street while sobbing and begging him not to go. After that, nearly anything would be an improvement.
She unpacked her bag and slipped the ice cream into the freezer. Setting the outdoor table took all of three minutes. She was about to tackle the salad when he returned.
“I have three messages from my mother,” he grumbled as he walked to the counter and pulled open a drawer. He dug through an assortment of can openers, measuring spoons and spatulas until he found the wine opener. Next he pulled two wineglasses from an upper cupboard shelf. “She wants to talk about the applicants.”
Isabel was more interested in how he knew his way around her kitchen. Did the man case the place while she was gone? Was he—
Maeve, she thought. He’d dated her sister for three years and had spent hours here every week. He’d often stayed for dinner and helped her sister set the table. While the kitchen had been updated, the layout was the same. Flatware was still in the top drawer by the sink, and glasses were above the dishwasher.
“Future-wife applicants?” she asked.
“That would be them.”
“Have you bothered to meet any of the women? They might be lovely.”
He gave her a look that implied the corkscrew had more intelligence than her.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not interested in anyone who would fill out an application.”
“You’re very critical and your mother is just trying to help.”
“Are you in on this?” he demanded. “Is there a plan to torture me?”
“No. Any torture is just a happy by-product.”
“Funny. Very funny. I don’t remember you having this much attitude fourteen years ago. I liked you better then.” He poured the red wine she’d bought and passed her a glass.
“You didn’t know me then,” she reminded him. “I was your girlfriend’s little sister. You barely spoke to me.”
“We had a special relationship that didn’t require conventional communication.”
She laughed. “You’re so full of crap.”
His dark eyes crinkled with amusement. “And you’re not the first woman to tell me that.” He touched his glass to hers. “To me being idiotic enough to come home.”
“You’ll settle in and your mother will calm down.”
“I hope so. I know she’s excited about having me back, but this is ridiculous.”
Isabel thought about the time after Ford left—when she knew her heart was going to break. “You almost never came back to town. Was that because of Maeve?”
He leaned against the counter. “At first,” he admitted. “Mostly I stayed away because being around my family was too complicated. They wanted to get involved in everything—especially my mom. I became a SEAL my third year and that was intense. I couldn’t talk about what I did or tell them where I was going. I took the easy way out and avoided the situation.”
He sipped the wine. “Maeve wasn’t wrong to break up with me. When it happened I would have told you I’d miss her forever. But within a few weeks, I realized she was right. We were kids, playing at being in love. I guess she has the real thing with Leonard.”Isabel tried to read emotion into his words. She couldn’t tell if he really didn’t mind that his ex-girlfriend had married the guy who’d come between them or not.
“The kids are more impressive. What’s she up to now?”
“Four with another on the way.”
He swore. “That many? I didn’t know Leonard had it in him.”
“Me, either. He’s an accountant now. He started his own company and has several impressive clients. He’s doing well.”
“With a family that big, he’d better be. How do you feel about being an aunt that many times over?”
“It can be overwhelming,” she said, which was mostly accurate. In truth, she’d been living in New York for the past six years and hadn’t been around her family all that much. She doubted Maeve’s youngest could pick her out of a lineup. She and her sister didn’t talk much, either. They’d both been busy and they didn’t have all that much in common.
Guilt poked at her, making her think she should call her sister and arrange a visit.
“You okay?” Ford asked, studying her.
“Fine. You’re not the only one with family issues.”
“Probably, but I’m the only one with a mother who set up a booth at a Fool’s Gold festival with the sole purpose of finding me and my brother wives.”
She laughed. “That you are.”
* * *
THEY PULLED TOGETHER dinner pretty quickly. In addition to the steaks, Ford had provided two russet potatoes. Isabel popped them in the microwave, then made the salad. She carried both their glasses of wine outside while he heated the grill and put on the steaks.
“You can use the grill anytime you want,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
Ford flipped the steaks, then closed the lid. “Thanks. I may take you up on that.”
“Meat good?” she asked.
He grinned. “Meat and fire. And beer.” He reached for his glass. “Or wine.”
She studied him, taking in the broad shoulders and easy smile. She searched for some hint he was still dealing with his time in the military, that he’d been scarred by all he’d seen, but there was no indication at all. If he had ghosts, they were the kind only he saw.
“Did you like being a SEAL?” she asked.
“Yeah. I liked being on a team. I also liked that we never knew what was going to happen next.”
“Certainty and variety. Two key components to happiness.”
He raised his eyebrows.
She shrugged. “I have a marketing degree, but I also have a minor in psychology. People like a sense of security. It’s hard to have fun if you’re starving or homeless. But we also like variety. Positive change engages the brain.”
“Pretty and smart. Impressive.”
She told herself he was a natural-born flirt and if she believed anything he said, she was an idiot. But that didn’t stop the tingles.
“Why did you retire?” she asked.
“The last five years I was on a joint task force. Important work, but more stressful.”
He grinned. “Danger is my middle name.”
She smiled. “I’m sure that’s not true, and I can easily get confirmation from one of your sisters.”
“Damn small town.” He sipped his wine. “The work was intense and I was moved around a lot. The team changed. After a while it started to get to me. Justice called about CDS and I said yes.”
“Were you worried about coming home?”
“I was worried about my mother.” He grimaced. “With good reason.”
Because it would be easier if he didn’t have family or didn’t get along with his. It was hard to tell a parent no when she was as loving and supportive as Denise.
“You should send her on a cruise around the world,” she suggested. “It worked for me.”
“If only she’d go.” His dark gaze settled on her face. “What about you? You’re back because you’re divorced?”
“Uh-huh. The paperwork is final, so I’m a free woman.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. Eric and I didn’t contest anything. We owned an apartment together. He bought me out, so I have that money to help start my business.”
“The one you’re starting when Paper Moon sells?”
“Right. So it’s all good.”
“No hard feelings?” he asked.
She’d told the almost-true version of the story so many times, the words came out automatically. “No. Eric’s a great guy, but we grew apart. We’re better as friends.”
He turned and checked the steaks, then flipped them again and closed the lid.
“It all sounds civilized,” he said. “Better than hating each other at the end.”
That would have required more energy than either of them had for the relationship, she thought sadly.
“I admire how you handled the situation,” Ford said.
Praise she didn’t deserve. She opened her mouth to say it was nothing, but what came out instead was “I thought everything was fine. I thought we had a great marriage. We were best friends with each other. We went to restaurants and gallery openings and estate sales on weekends. He supported my dreams and I supported his.”
Their sex life had been nonexistent, but as sex wasn’t important to her, she hadn’t minded. In a way it had been freeing to simply be herself with a man.
“I liked spending time with him,” she continued. “It was easy.” She paused. “But it wasn’t love.”
“Doesn’t sound like it,” Ford said quietly.
She looked at him, then away before putting her wine down on the outdoor table. She was holding the glass so tightly she was afraid she was going to break it.
“He fell in love with someone else,” she admitted, still remembering the shock when he’d told her. He’d sat her down, taken her hands in his and admitted he’d fallen in love.
“He was so excited. So happy. There was an energy I’d never seen before. I think that shocked me more than the infidelity. The enthusiasm. He’d never acted that way about me.”