Summer Kisses (278 page)

“It’s getting so I have to go in at five in the morning or eight at night because it’s so damn busy all the time,” he blabbered. “And I mean, it would be one thing if these...
people
were getting even a remote benefit out of it, but it’s clear they’re not.”

Somebody shoot me and put me out of my misery.

No,
really
.

The food finally arrived, and I hoped it would put an end to the conversation. But, of course, it didn’t. Frankly, the angry, bitter talk about his gym ruined my appetite.

“I mean, this morning the amount of traffic through that place was insane,” he continued. “There were all these fat peop—” He looked over at me. “Oh. Sorry.”

A squeak came from my molars as they ground together, but I played dumb, willing to see how much of an ass he would make of himself. “What do you mean?”

Rodney shrugged. “Well, I didn’t mean anything by the fat comment.”

So basically he was calling me a big fatty.

I thought of Quinn. Even when he told me that I could stand to get healthier, he never actually made me feel like he was judging me. I tried to imagine this dinner with Quinn instead of Rodney. That would have been a lot more fun.

Rodney went back to his fish, not realizing I was working up a full head of steam.

I’ll admit it. I have a temper. I’m generally pretty good at keeping that fact hidden, especially around people I care about. I’ll bottle up things that upset me because, unfortunately, when I let my temper flare, I have a hard time finding the high road. I feared this was going to be one of those times. How to respond?
Yes, I may be fat, but you’re ugly and have no hair?
No. Not subtle enough.

I narrowed my eyes on my date across the table, obliviously shoveling fish into his mouth. I reminded myself this was Sherri’s nephew, and as the only woman of any standing at the firm, I really needed her support if I was going to keep my new job.

The waiter arrived, interrupting my train of thought. “Would you folks like dessert?”

Rodney’s nostrils flared in alarm as he responded for both of us. “No, I don’t think either of us
need
—”

My pent-up anger popped out of the bottle like a champagne cork on New Year’s Eve.

I looked Rodney right in the eye and interrupted. “Yes. I would like your Double-Chocolate Decadence. With
extra
fudge sauce.”

Rodney turned pale and looked like he might faint. “Are you sure you want to...?”

I turned directly to the waiter. “Absolutely. And could I have a cup of coffee, please?” I asked sweetly, still miffed I hadn’t been able to blow this jerk off after half a cappuccino.

The waiter, being a fairly astute sort, winked in my direction, said, “You got it,” and headed for the kitchen. He returned in minutes with my dessert and coffee.

“Coffee’s not good for you,” Rodney said supremely.

“And chocolate is?” I put the first bite to my lips and moaned, perhaps a little more vigorously than required. “But it’s sooo worth it.”

Rodney’s ruddy complexion turned even redder as I took another bite and channeled Meg Ryan. “Ohh. This is really good. You should have ordered one for yourself.” ‘Cause no way in hell was I sharing.

He continued to stare rudely, and I started feeling uncomfortable. The joke had gone on too long, and I’d put myself at the butt of it. As soon as the last bite of cake cleared my lips, I picked up my coffee cup and drained it. “Thanks. Let’s do this again sometime.”

Not.

I stood, retrieved my purse, and left without saying anything else.

I was never going on a blind date again in my life. Instead of making nice with Sherri, I’d completely shot myself in the foot. I fought tears as I slid behind the wheel of my car, feeling overwhelmed, discouraged, foolish, and too full.

On Sunday evening, I let myself into the house my mom shared with her new husband Mac and immediately smelled something suspicious.

Mac stepped into the foyer from the dining room. “Your mom’s in the kitchen. Be kind.”

“How bad is it?” My stomach growled, and I sighed. I should have stopped to eat before I came over. No one in their right mind would ever cite my mom’s skills in the kitchen as an asset. But we love her anyway.

“Bad. Probably inedible. We still have to choke some of it down.”

It always amazes me how different Mac is from my father. Other than being tall, they had nothing in common.

Mac was third-generation Irish cop—now retired—from Boston with the accent to match. At a burly six-five, he took up an enormous amount of real estate in any room he entered. With silver hair, ice-blue eyes, and a bone-crunching handshake, he should have been intimidating. And he was, right up to the moment my mom walked in the room. Then he turned into a big teddy bear. His eyes crinkled with his smile, and his movements became gentle. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see him throw himself at Mom’s feet.

My father had been a plant manager in a factory. He’d been tall, but without much of a presence unless he lost his temper, which he did all too often. My mom had always been his most likely target—at least after I hit my teens. He hadn’t had a kind word for anyone, his dark eyes and scowl were menacing, and he’d been a mean drunk.

He’d died when I was in college. I hadn’t mourned his passing then and wasn’t about to start now.

Mac followed me into the kitchen where I leaned down and kissed Mom on the cheek. “Happy Mother’s Day.” I handed her a bundle of flowers I’d picked up on the way.

“Oh, hi, honey.” She sniffed as she scrubbed a burnt pan, well aware of her own culinary limitations. “I was going for healthy, but tofu isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” I eyed the mushy, charred mess in a serving bowl on the counter and swallowed hard. Mac and I would eat every bite and ask for seconds, even if it killed us, which it might.

“No.” She shook her head. “We’ll order a veggie pizza, instead.”

Oh,
thank God.

I gave her a squeeze around the shoulders. I thought for about two seconds telling her she should let Katherine show her a few things in the kitchen but immediately clamped my jaw shut. Bad idea.
Very
bad idea!

I should stop thinking of Katherine outside of the realm of work. That was the only way I’d get through the next few months without doing something that she and I would both regret.

Yesterday’s dinner had tested the limits of my restraint. I didn’t need the distraction, and Katherine Mendoza was one helluva distraction. Mac led me into the living room, and Mom followed with a tray of iced tea.

“How’s work going, honey?”

“Good. We’re planning a big marketing campaign to launch the new location.” Assuming we got past Nickname-Gate, of course. Katherine’s press release had gone out on Saturday, and there had been a short—
very short—
mention of that in the paper this morning. But the damage had been done. Twelve members from the Blue Ash club had already canceled their memberships. I tried to focus on the positive. “We should break ground this summer.”

“That’s wonderful. Are you dating?”

“You ask every time I see you, and my answer is always the same.”

“A mom can hope.”

“I’m focusing on work right now.”

Pinch lines formed at the sides of her mouth. “You’re always focusing on work.” She sighed, and I girded my loins for the nagging about why I should find a nice girl and settle down. “I hope you aren’t trying to prove something to someone who wouldn’t have appreciated it even if he were still alive.”

Shock caught the breath in my chest, causing me to gasp around it. Mom had never uttered an unkind word about my father, as much as he had deserved it. I searched for a reply.

“It is possible to be professionally successful and not alone.” Ahh. Here was the conversation I’d been braced for.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I shot a glance at Mac, hoping he’d steer the conversation away from the landmines, when the doorbell rang.

Hallelujah.

My relief must have been visible as Mac started to chuckle. “I’ll get the pizza,” he said.

A few minutes after Mac, Mom, and I sat down to dinner, my cell phone rang. I checked the number.
John.
He could wait.

“Sorry about that.” I sent him to voicemail, set my phone on vibrate, and put it face down on the table.

Two minutes later, it buzzed.
John again
. I let the call go to voicemail again. Less than thirty seconds later, he called again.

“Mom, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take this. Obviously, it’s something really important or John wouldn’t keep calling.”

Her mouth pulled down at the corners as I stood up, picked up the phone, and headed into the living room. “This better be good,” I answered.

“Good as in important or good as in good news?”

I suspected it wouldn’t be the latter. “What do you need? I’m having dinner with Mom and Mac.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” John said. “I got some bad news. Bill Goodwin pulled his backing for the new club.”

“What? Can he do that?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He has a shark of an attorney who insisted on several clauses that I never thought would get used. Unfortunately, those clauses were written into the contracts with all of the investors.”

“Oh, shit,” I whispered

“Yup.”

“Why is he pulling out?”

“I think we can place the blame on your good buddy Amanda. He’s afraid of the potential bad publicity.”

“What can I do?”

“Either find additional backing or talk to the other four investors and see if they’ll split up Bill’s piece of the pie.” He sighed.

I finally hung up and returned to the dining room. What was I going to do if I couldn’t get the additional funding?

By the time I got back to my house from the blind date from hell, it was cold, dreary, and raining. Pulling into the garage, I realized I still needed to drag the trash bucket to the curb. Tomorrow was trash day, and I know myself well enough to know I wouldn’t be motivated to take it out at six in the morning. Running inside to grab the bag out of the kitchen, I changed my shoes and tugged on a rain slicker before stepping out into the deluge, pulling the side door closed behind me.

I jumped as thunder crashed and the rain sheeted from the sky even harder. Water poured directly out of the top of the rain gutter over the kitchen window, rather than down the spout, and I made a mental note to have my gutters cleaned.

My feet, calves, and ankles were soaked by the time I made my way back from the street to reach the front door. I tried the handle.
Locked!
Dashing around the house to the garage through the lawn, I set my foot down too hard in a puddle of rainwater. The sluice of cold, muddy water flying up under the hem of my coat chilled me. I contemplated a big steaming mug of tea when I skidded to a halt in front of the side door.

Something in the pit of my stomach sank when I realized that I’d shut it after me. The handle turns from the inside, even when it’s locked on the outside, and I don’t usually remember that until it’s too late. I wiggled the handle. Sure enough. Locked.

“Dammit.” A few other choice phrases rattled through my head, but I saved them in case I’d need them later. Running back up to the front porch, I checked the large front windows, hoping I’d left one of them unlocked, which I have a bad habit of doing. Since they’re only a couple of feet off the ground, they would be easy to climb in.

Both windows, of course, were locked tight. “That would have been too easy,” I muttered, sliding once again around the house, hoping that I’d left one of the lower back windows open. When neither the window to the guest room nor window to the master bedroom budged, I started to panic. How was I going to get in?

Will.
He had a spare key.

In my dashing to and fro about the yard, the hood to my raincoat had fallen down. Now my hair dripped cold water into my face. As I trudged across the street to the Abernathys, I prayed Will was home and knew where he kept the only extra key to my house.

Crystal met me at the front door. Somewhere near my age, she had short honey-brown hair, was of average height, and fairly slender with exception to the protruding proof of impending motherhood. Her hand rested on her extended belly as she opened the screen door to me.

“Katherine, you look like you’ve been swimming out there. What can I do for you?”

“I managed to lock myself out without keys or phone. Would you mind if I used yours?”

“Not at all. Come on in.”

She handed me her cell while I dripped on the rug by the front door. Will’s boyfriend Matt answered after two rings, which was unexpected.

“Matt. It’s Katherine,” I said in a rush. “Can I talk to Will?”

“No. He drove down to Louisville and accidently left his cell here. His sister is having some sort of personal crisis that evidently can only be solved by brotherly attention. I’m not expecting him back until late tonight.” Matt sounded annoyed. Unfortunately, he took pissing people off as an art form so few of Will’s friends and family could tolerate him for any length of time, which explained why he wasn’t with Will in Kentucky.

A few of those choice words I’d suppressed before tried to bubble to the surface. A quick glance at Crystal tamped them back down. “I accidentally locked myself out of the house. Would you mind bringing my spare key over?” I hated asking him for a favor, but I didn’t have much choice at this point.

“It’s not here. Will has it on his key chain. Which, of course, is with him in Kentucky.” Matt didn’t sound altogether upset about this turn of events.

This evening just got worse and worse. I waited with anticipation for the asteroid which was surely hurtling through space with a beeline trajectory for my house.

“Can’t you call a locksmith?”

“Looks like that’s going to be my only option.” I sighed, not at all thrilled with the bill that was surely to follow. “Thanks anyway, Matt.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” he said, though I didn’t really hear much sincerity in his voice.