Two of a Kind (29 page)

Gideon looked like a deer in the headlights. Felicia wasn’t sure how to help.

“The town is so welcoming,” she said, and held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Felicia Swift.”

“Nice to meet you.” Bella’s gaze settled on her hair. “Your hair is a lovely color. Is it natural?”

“Yes. I’m lucky.”

Bella returned her attention to Gideon.

“You’re dealing with so much. You might want to talk to Ethan Hendrix. Do you know him?”

“He owns the turbine company outside town.” He looked at Felicia. “Wind turbines. They’re used for electricity.”

“I’m aware of that,” she began, only to realize saying that was
his
way of creating a distraction. “Um, yes. Windmills. What do you know about them?”

Bella shot her a look that clearly stated she thought Felicia was the village idiot. “As I was saying, Ethan went through a little of what you’re dealing with now. It’s a complicated story, but by the time he found out he had a son, Tyler was eleven or twelve. It nearly broke his heart.”

“That he had a son?” Felicia asked.

“No, dear. All that he missed.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re working through that, too. Those early years. Him being born, the first step, first word.” Her eyes filled with tears. “That first day of school. All gone. And you can’t get them back.”

Gideon looked as if he was going to bolt.

“Carter’s mother seems to have done an excellent job with her son,” Felicia said.

“A boy needs his father,” Bella said, glaring at her, before turning back to Gideon. “I’m just saying, Ethan has been there and he can help you through the adjustment period.”

She smiled once more, then left.

Felicia picked up her wineglass, then put it down. “I have a strong urge to apologize, but I’m not sure for what.”

“I missed stuff,” he said, sounding dazed. “Years when Carter was younger.”

Thirteen years, she thought, but decided that information wasn’t helpful to the discussion at hand.

“Does that give you a sense of loss? Are you angry with Ellie?”

“No.” He stared at her. “I never thought about it before. About him being younger and growing up. I don’t need to know about that. I don’t want to know.”

“Somehow thinking Carter appeared fully formed made him less scary?”

He swore under his breath. “I thought you were supposed to be socially awkward.”

“I’m less so now,” she said proudly. “But you’re avoiding the question.”

“I don’t have an answer for you. Maybe that’s part of it. He’s not so bad. We’re starting to figure out what to talk about.” He glanced around. “Damn this town. Why can’t they leave me alone?”

Bella’s words might have triggered his feelings, but Felicia suspected Gideon had been fighting the walls closing in for a while. He was a man who sought out solitude. He lived away from other people. He meditated, practiced Tai Chi and ran miles at a time. All alone. He specifically worked at night when most of the world was asleep. He didn’t seek involvement, yet it had been thrust upon him.

“We can go,” she told him. “We don’t have to stay and eat dinner.”

“This is your date night.”

Your,
she thought sadly. Not
our.

“Another time,” she said, waving to their server. “Let’s just go home. You can drop me off, then head into the station. Get set up for your show.”

She wanted him to say no. She wanted him to say that being with her was relaxing. That while he was interested in getting out of the restaurant, being with her wasn’t like being with other people.

“Thanks,” he said, pulling a credit card out of his wallet. “I promise to come to a full stop at the house and not ask you to jump out while the car’s still moving.”

“I could do a tuck and roll.”

“Not in those shoes.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Thanks.”

She nodded because she was afraid if she spoke, she would betray her disappointment. As they left the restaurant and she faced a long evening of missing Gideon and wishing they were together, she realized that caring for someone came at a price. To open one’s heart meant letting in all emotions, not just the good ones.

* * *

“IF YOU DON’T focus, I’m going to hit you,” Consuelo said, glaring at Ford.

“Sorry.”

He gripped the punching bag more securely. Just as she shifted into position, he stepped back.

“It’s my mother,” he admitted.

“Do I look as if I care?”

“You heard about the booth?”

“Everyone heard about the booth, and we’re all laughing at you. Now, can we get back to the workout?”

They were supposed to be sparring together. When he’d been too distracted for a decent round or two, she’d suggested they move to the punching bags.

“Consuelo, you don’t understand. She’s taken applications from different women and sorted through them by likable attributes. She’s been emailing me the information and then following up to see if I’ve called them yet.”

Ford was about thirty-three, over six feet tall and all muscle. Although she would never admit it to anyone, she was pretty sure he could take her. So it was unexpected, to say the least, to watch him practically tremble at the thought of his mother sending women his way.

“Tell her no,” she said.

“My mother?”

“Isn’t that who we’re talking about?”

“I can’t. She won’t understand. She went to a lot of trouble.”

“It was a booth for two days. She had fun. It’s not like she was in an Iranian prison on a hunger strike.”

“She’s my mother.”

Now he was giving her a headache. “We’ve established that. If you say she’s your mother again, I’m going to hit you in the balls. Is that clear?”

Ford stepped closer to the bag, as if that would offer protection. Idiotic man.

“What do you want?” she asked, digging deep for patience she didn’t naturally possess.

“Her to leave me alone. I made the mistake of mentioning I was moving out, and she wants me to move back home. I already spent a few days there. It’s not going to work.”

“And you can’t tell her?”

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings.” He narrowed his gaze. “Before you get on me about that, you wouldn’t hurt your mother’s feelings, either.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Assuming she were still alive, Consuelo would want to do everything in her power to make her mother happy and proud of her.

“So you have two problems,” she said. “Living quarters and the women. Let’s take them one at a time. Where are you going to live? You can’t stay in the house.”

Ford and Angel were going to kill each other, which she could live with, but then she would have to clean up the mess, which annoyed her.

“I’ve got a lead on an apartment. I’ll know if I got it in a couple of days. It’s above a garage, very private.”

“Sounds nice. So don’t tell your mother where you’re going to be.”

His expression turned pitying. “This is Fool’s Gold. There are no secrets. Even if I don’t tell her, someone else will.”

Consuelo began unfastening her gloves. Obviously there wasn’t going to be a workout with Ford this morning. When he was done whining about his problem, she was going for a run. A long one. Then she was going to soak in the big tub in her bathroom. Later, there would be wine. She was sure of it.

“There’s a difference between lying and withholding information.”

“Not a big one,” Ford said.

“Then you’re going to have to deal with her knowing your whereabouts. It’s a small town. It’s not like you’ll have distance on your side.”

“I never should have moved back.”

She glared at him. “No, what you never should have done was promise me a workout and then gotten all girly about your problems.”

“I’m sharing something personal here.”

“Cry me a river.”

“You’re not very feminine.”

“That makes one of us.” She drew in a breath. “Okay, this isn’t working. You’re getting an apartment and you’re going to have to deal with your mother dropping by. Do you see another solution?”

“No.”

“Great. Problem solved. Or if not solved, then something we don’t have to talk about anymore. Next, the women applying to marry you. You know, if we’d recorded this conversation, all you’d have to do is post it on YouTube and they’d run in the opposite direction.”

“Why do I remember you being more helpful?” he asked.

“Hell if I know.” She dropped her gloves to the mat and flexed and opened her hands. “Have you talked to any of them?”

“The applicants? No. Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Because you need to get laid and they’re offering. They can’t all be bad.”

“I don’t want to get married.” His voice was two parts stubborn, one part whine.

“All right. I’ll bite. Why not?”

“I just don’t.”

“Okay. As long as it’s a
good
reason.” She decided if she moved just a little closer, she could nail his groin with a quick kick. Then the issue of having children would be off the table. But despite his annoying honesty and soft spot for his mother, she sort of liked Ford. If she couldn’t enjoy hurting him, there was no point in causing the pain.

“Go out with them,” she said.

“What?”

“Go out with them. How bad could it be?”

“Bad.”

“You don’t know that. Your mom knows you pretty well. She put up with you for years.”

“I was a kid. I’ve changed.”

She was about to make a smart-ass remark when she realized he was telling the truth. Ford had become a SEAL. He’d been around the world, seeing and doing things that very few people could understand. That had a way of changing a man...or a woman.

“So, distract her,” she said. “She’s also looking for a wife for Kent. Tell her you need more time to settle into civilian life, that you’ll be difficult to date. She should understand that. Say she can practice on Kent.”

Ford’s worried expression relaxed. He circled around the punching bag, heading toward her. Consuelo started backing away.

As she’d feared, he was both stronger and faster, and apparently more determined, she thought grimly as he grabbed her in his arms and swung her around.

“That’s perfect!” he crowed, squeezing tight. “I’ll get my mom to focus on Kent.” He put her down and released her. “He can be her practice case.”

She took a deep breath, just to make sure there weren’t any bruised ribs, and told herself she didn’t care if Ford’s brother started dating other women. It’s not like she knew the man. “So much for brotherly love.”

“Lorraine left Kent years ago. He’s got a kid. He needs to get married.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate your professional assessment.” She cleared her throat, then did her best to sound casual. “Do you know why she left?”

He shrugged. “She was a bitch.” He held up both hands. “My mom’s exact words. I’m not being critical of a woman. Don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t.”

Ford dropped his arms to his sides. “Kent was crazy about her for years, and they had Reese together. He’s a stable kind of guy. A math teacher. As far as I know, he never cheated. When we spoke right after the divorce, he was pretty broken up about it. I felt kind of bad.”

“Do you think he’s looking to get involved again?”

A stupid question, she thought angrily. It wasn’t as if she was right for him. Even if he found her attractive, he would only want her for sex. Normal men wanted normal women to marry. He was an intelligent single father with kind eyes. Whether he wanted to or not, he wouldn’t stay single for long.

“He told Mom he was. At least he’s not disinterested, which is pretty much the same thing.” He started toward her, but she shook her head.

“No more hugging?” he asked.

“No. But I understand you’re grateful. You’ve bought yourself some time. But once Kent is happily involved, your mother is going to go looking for a woman for you.”

“I’ll figure out something,” he said.

“Great. Problem solved.” She started out of the gym.

“Wait.” He walked alongside her. “Where are you going?”

“For a run.”

“Want some company?”

She rolled her eyes. For all their toughness and attitude, she would swear the guys she worked with were like puppies. Annoying and underfoot, but ultimately kind of adorable.

“Fine, but you have to keep up.”

He winked. “I’ll leave you in the dust.”

“In your dreams.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MORNINGS WERE GIDEON’S favorite time of the day. He liked the quiet when he was alone in the house, the coolness before the sun had completely cleared the mountain. He stood on the widest part of the deck, his elbows bent, his arms moving as he completed the movements. He focused on his breath and flow, feeling the energy in his body.

The slow-paced exercise, a kind of moving meditation, kept him grounded. When he was faithful in his adherence, the nights were less long, the dreams less violent. He’d been distracted, with Carter’s arrival and having Felicia around, and he’d paid the price. Now he inhaled to a slow count of ten and reminded himself he would never be able to forgo the simple practices. They kept him able to function.

He pivoted on his back foot and tightened his muscles as he shifted his weight. Carefully he—

“Yoo-hoo, Gideon? Are you home?”

He brought down his right foot and turned, able to see through the house to the two women peering through the big front window. The old ladies, he thought grimly. Eddie and Gladys. They’d followed him home.

He shook his head and went in through the sliding door on the deck. He was halfway across the living room when he remembered he was wearing nothing more than sweatpants. Sweatpants that sat very low on his hips.

“Goddamn sonofabitch,” he grumbled, detouring into the kitchen where he’d left his T-shirt. He jerked it over his head and pulled it down as he continued walking toward the front door.

“What?” he barked as he jerked it open.

Eddie and Gladys both stared at him. Eddie’s mouth curved up in a smile.

“Were you in the shower?” she asked hopefully.

“No. I was exercising.”

“Naked?”

“Not naked.”

The first shiver of fear replaced annoyance. He shook off the sensation. They were old ladies. They weren’t going to hurt him...were they?

Gladys pushed her friend aside. “We want to talk to you. It won’t take long.”

Good manners overcame common sense. Gideon stepped back and let them in.

“How can I help you?” he asked as they prowled the living room.

Gladys turned to him first. “What? Oh, why we’re here.” She smiled. “We want you to sponsor our bowling team. We have the shirts all picked out. We’ve chosen the colors and everything. Show him.”

Eddie plopped down on the sofa and pulled a picture out of her large handbag. He inched forward and took it, then stepped back out of range.