Miss Fortune (38 page)

The woman had a point. Seated in the only chair in the booth, Mabel could swivel around and do just about anything, including stare at Rachel during the few lulls that they had.

It had been a long, exhausting day, both physically and emotionally. As she explained to Mabel (when they had bonded a little later in the day), her date with Mike last evening had been a g&od one. They had had a couple of drinks, had gone to listen to a rock band that was too loud for her tastes. And then he had returned her to her car and kissed her like any guy would do, and it had been perfectly nice. Just nice . No sizzle, no spark, no desire to hop in the sack with him.

So? Dont see him again, Mabel had said.

I know but the thing is, Mike is the more practical choice, Rachel had argued earnestly. I mean, hes a nice guy, he likes me, hes local. But Flynn She moaned, looked out the murky glass windows at the cars lined up at the pump. Flynn is like a dream guy. Someone you would never imagine meeting in a million years, you know?

Mabel snorted. Girl, why would you want to be living practical when you can be living the dream ? shed asked, and snorted again. Id live the dream my damn self, she muttered, and swiveled around again to accept money from two guys with dreadlocks.

Live the dream my damn self . How lyrical that had sounded.

It only depressed her more, because (and she had failed to mention this to Mabel), Flynn wasnt living his dream. Hed obviously been appalled by her declaration of love. And now there was a nice, normal guy who liked her, and all she could think of was Flynn.

It was enough to make even the most practical of people insane, and by the time Rachel arrived home, she wanted nothing more than to devour a giant pan of warm brownies and take a hot soaking bath.

Unfortunately, Myron was there. She groaned as she got out of her car, as he was definitely the last person she wanted to see today. But as she entered her house through the kitchen doorthe quickest route to avoid any encounter with Mr. Valicieloshe gasped, dropped her bag.

Her house was a wreck . Drawers were pulled out, crap was stacked on the breakfast bar, and the refrigerator door was standing wide open.

She dropped her bag, marched into the dining room where she found more of the samestuff stacked everywhere, drawers and cabinets open and the contents jumbled. And as she stood there, her mouth agape, trying to make sense of it all, Myron came trudging up the stairs from the basement. Oh. Hey, he said when he saw her.

Hey ? Thats all youre going to say?

What?

God, Myron! she exclaimed angrily. Look at my house! Look what youve done to my house !

Myron looked around. Oh, man. I didnt realize, he said stupidly, and she realized he was stoned again.

Augh ! she shrieked. This is unreal, Myron! she cried, and whirled around, went into the kitchen, slammed the fridge door shut. I asked you to please call before dropping by! Do you think I exist to feed you and clean up after you? What sort of friend are you?

Myron followed her. Look, Im sorry! I didnt realize

I was making a mess! he shouted at her. But you have something of mine and I cant find it!

I have something of yours? And thats a reason to trash my house?

Its a painting of a colonial woman. Small, like an eight by ten. What did you do with it ? he roared.

Now she was pissed. Huge, steam-out-of-the-ears pissed. Dont shout at me, she said through gritted teeth. I dont know where your stupid painting is. I dont care about your stupid paintings! Ive let you store them here because I thought we were friends, but you have taken advantage of my friendship long enough! I want my key back, right now.

Listen, Rachel, you have to remember, he said, sounding a little desperate now. I have to find it!

There was a look in his eyes she didnt like, and she turned away, slammed a knickknack drawer shut. I dont know where it is. You have to remember.

Fuck, Myron muttered, and stared at the floor for a minute. FUCK!

All right, its time for you to go, Rachel said, and pointed toward the door.

I have to find that goddamn painting! he roared. Do you not understand? I HAVE TO FIND THAT PAINTING!

Youre stoned, she said disgustedly. Look around you! Its obviously not here! Youve turned my house upside down and its not here! I want you to go, Myron. I want you to give me the key and leave my house and not come back. Youre stoned and youre rude, and youre

Shut up, Rachel, he said nastily, tossed her key onto the breakfast bar and stalked to the door. Just shut the fuck up, he said again, and kicked the door open, stepped outside.

Her instincts told her to lock the door, and she raced behind him, locking the kitchen door, then ran to the front to lock that one, too. The phone began to ring as she watched Myron back out of her driveway at breakneck speed, almost colliding with her car as he did.

She grabbed the phone up without looking at the caller ID, her eyes still on Myron. Hello, she said, walking to the window again.

Rachel?

His voice was an injection of calm into chaos, and she closed her eyes, drew a breath, Flynn , she whispered.

I I hadnt thought Id get you. Ive been trying to reach you without much luck. Have have you the time to chat a bit?

Ah She paused, looked out the window. Myron was definitely gone.

Bollocks, he muttered low, and before she could explain, he said, At least allow me to say a couple of things, will you? Beginning with how dreadfully sorry I am for yesterday. Something cropped up that I couldnt extract myself from, and I

I know, so your message said, she responded, forgetting Myron. Could you not find a phone?

Yes, I could find a phone but for reasons I cannot fully explain as of yet, I could not call you

Flynn

Rachel, please listen to me. I had to do something yesterday that I cannot discuss with you. Not yet, at least, and I know that sounds rather cloak and daggerish, but its the truth. And the other truth is I wanted to come. I was not the least bit turned off by what you said, and in fact, I was rather encouraged by it. I suppose I should have said so straightaway, but the problem is, there are a few things you dont understand that make it rather difficult

What things? she asked. Another woman? she blurted, the idea tumbling out from the dark corners of her mind, where all devastating notions lurked, ready to pounce at the first sign of insecurity.

No, not That is to say, not just

It is another woman!

God no, Rachel. No. He sighed into the phone, and she could picture him dragging his hand through his hair like he often did. You know what I did today? he sud-denly asked. I had a long walk along the river where you and I have walked and talked, and and I worried because I couldnt reach you. I thought perhaps you were avoiding me, which I might have well deserved, but nevertheless, I couldnt stop thinking about you, and I realized that I havent stopped thinking of you since nearly the moment we met in the coffeehouse. Jesus, I cant seem to think straight at all, really, but I know one thingwe really must talk. I have to ask you some things, I have to tell you some things. We cant possibly go on like this.

Could they go on at all? Yes, I think we need to talk, she said low.

Then then youll agree? When might we meet?

Tomorrow. Around five, she said, because she couldnt see him now, not after what Myron had done to her house, not as exhausted as she was. At the moment, she had no energy to hear whatever it was he had to tell her. Whatever it was, it could not possibly be good.

Thats the earliest, is it? he asked, clearly disappointed.

Yes, she said firmly. Can you come here?

Yes, he said. Ill come round tomorrow, then. And thank you, Rachel, for giving me a chance to explain.

Right. Explain some things that were going to devastate her. Okay. See you tomorrow, she said, and clicked off.

THAT night, Rachel dreamed that she was trying to find Flynn in the mess of her house, uncertain if he was real or just a painting. But in each pile she looked, it seemed to get bigger and bigger.

The next morning, Rachel went to the gym. Lori cracked her gum as she gave her the once-over, and said, Youre looking good , girl! How much you lost?

Three pounds, Rachel said as she signed in.

No way! More like fifteen or twenty, right?

Three, Rachel said, holding up her hand and wiggling three fingers at Lori, then walked on, into the gym, where she rode until her legs were rubber and she couldnt feel her arms.

She did, however, feel remarkably calmer and much more placid about things. Whatever Flynn had to say, she was ready to hear. It wasnt the first time shed been dumped, that was for sure, but it was certainly the first time shed been dumped with kid gloves. She fully expected something along a range of Could we be friends to I have a wretched disease to I really never expected it to go so far, and I have this thing at home. Thing being, of course, a woman.

She had managed to put her house together by mid-afternoon by pushing stuff under furniture and forcing it into drawers, and even avoided two calls from Mike (Hey, Rachel, you doing anything tonight?), even though it made her feel extremely guilty. She even tried to find Dagne with no luck to tell her to come get her witchcraft stuff, because she was not doing that anymore. No doubt she and Glenn had patched things up. That was always the way it went. Dagne got the guy, Rachel didnt.

So Rachel put the witchcraft paraphernalia away without ceremony except to stand and stare at the cabinet for a moment and marvel at her silly diversion into it.

Well, no more. She would be meeting life head on from here on out, and she went upstairs to check her astrological chart to make sure that was a good approach.

FLYNN arrived with a full bouquet of flowers, a bottle of pricey champagne, and a bag of gourmet brownies. He might not be able to talk his way back into her good graces, but he was not above trying to charm his way in.

The last twenty-four hours had been excruciatingly slow and surprisingly painful. For years, Flynn had considered himself a rather worldly chap, what with all the traveling and consorting with the very wealthy that he did. It wasnt until he had been charmed by Iris that he began to realize that what he wanted most from life was a woman who loved him completely, with all his bloody faults, and a family to come home to.

That, and a career as a homicide detective, but that was another long and convoluted tale.

When Iris had betrayed him, he had managed to convince himself that it was better this way, that his expectations had been too highhe couldnt really expect a woman to love him and him alone, completely and forever. It was too easy for people to move from lover, wife or husband, to the next thing. It seemed that those sort of long-term, loving relationships were few and far between, really.

Even his parents, who had been married for ages, didnt seem to really like each other. He supposed the best he could hope for was several jolly good flings in his lifetime.

But then hed met Rachel, and a belief had sprouted within him. A belief so foreign to him that he couldnt even name itbut he felt rather desperate not to lose it and knew, instinctively, that if he did lose it, it might possibly be lost forever.

So he screwed up his courage and bounded up the steps of her porch, rapping with great determination on her door.

He heard her coming down the stairs, heard the locks being undone. The door slowly opened, and there she stood, as gorgeous and curvy as ever. Her hair was long and unbound, curling with abandon around her face. She was wearing a long black skirt and slippers that had been fashioned to look like Holstein cows. She wore a simple, figure-hugging black sweater and the lavender shawl about her shoulders and a crystal pendant around her neck.

He had never seen a more attractive sight in his life, and he was rather surprised by how quickly his heart lifted in his chest when she smiled timidly. Are those for me? she asked, looking at the flowers in his hand.

They are.

She pushed open the door, stood aside to let him in. Flynn offered her the flowers, and when she took them from him, he couldnt help himself; he caught her by the waist, and kissed her, like a man whod been marooned on a deserted island for years. When he at last lifted his head, she was looking at him with such brilliance that every ounce of testosterone boiled up in him demanding more.

He kissed her again. A full, deep kiss, one that conveyed how much he hungered for her. Rachel responded warmly by curving into him, pressing her body against his.

When she pulled away, her smile was dazzling. Ill just put these in water, she said, and turned and walked to the back of the house.

Flynn set the champagne aside, shut the door, and shrugged out of his overcoat. With his hands in his pock-ets, he stood just beyond the archway that led to the dining room. Rachel returned a moment later, carrying a large crystal vase, and with a smile, set the flowers on the table and began to arrange them, leaning over the table, her long curls falling over her shoulder.

Everything that happened then was a blur of white hot emotion. She was like a magnet, drawing him to her, and he could not resist. He moved behind her, put his hand on her hair, stroking it, deliberately moving it aside, so that he could kiss her neck.

Rachel sighed softly when his lips touched her flesh.

I missed you terribly, Rachel, he whispered.

She responded by leaning her head to one side. You missed Thanksgiving, she murmured.

Im a sodding bastard, Flynn said into the fistful of hair he had grabbed up in his hand. I deserve to be beaten mercilessly and fed to lions.

It so happens I have a pair in the backyard, she said, and turned around, put her hands to his chest. But werent you going to tell me something?

Tell you? he muttered absently, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

That you cant see me, or youre leaving, or youre sorry, but you just dont feel the same

What? He laughed incredulously, laid his palm against her cheek and smiled down at her. Youve got it all wrong, love.