a hint of sadness clouding her gorgeous blue eyes when she mentioned her dating hiatus; at the bowling alley, a brilliant smile illuminating her face after she’d knocked down her first pins; outside her apartment building at the end of the night, her eyes soft and warm, as her lips touched his cheek.
“What about Bridget?”
He pushed the memories of Rachel to the back of his mind. “Bridget was serious stalker material.”
“What did she do—call you the day after your date?”
“She called. She texted. She emailed. And then she showed up at the house—and I never told her where I lived.”
“Okay, that’s a little obsessive,” Nathan allowed.
“And when I made the mistake of inviting her to come inside for a drink—because I didn’t know how else to respond to her presence on my doorstep—she immediately started making decorating suggestions.”
“Well, she is an interior designer.”
“Who walked through the house until she found my bedroom and then told me the feng shui wasn’t conducive to getting naked and sweaty.”
Nate winced. “Okay—forget Bridget. Tell me about this girl you went bowling with last night—how did you meet her?”
“She works at a flower shop downtown.”
“Please don’t tell me you were in there buying flowers to take to the cemetery.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
Nathan groaned. “That’s pathetic.”
“Why does it matter where I met her? We’re just...friends,” he decided, because acquaintances seemed overly vague a description for a woman who had played a starring role in the sexual dreams that plagued his sleep the previous evening. Of course, he wasn’t going to share that with his brother.
“Is she coyote ugly?”
He choked on his beer. “Jeez, Nate. No. She’s not ugly at all.”
“Then what does she look like?”
He could picture her clearly: the silky brown hair that she kept tied back when she was working but had brushed out so that it hung loose to her shoulders last night; the deep blue eyes that reminded him of clear summer skies; the light dusting of freckles over the bridge of her pert nose; the tiny mole at the corner of her temptingly shaped mouth; the graceful slope of her shoulders; the unmistakably feminine curves.
But he couldn’t mention any one of those things, because he knew that if he did, his brother would somehow sense everything that he wasn’t saying. Most notably that Rachel Ellis was the first woman who had stuck in his mind—and stirred his body—in a very long time.
“She’s...attractive,” he finally said. “In a girl-next-door kind of way.”
Nathan’s brows lifted. “So if you’re really not interested, maybe you’ll introduce her to me.”
“No.” His response was immediate and unequivocal.
“Why not?”
“Because she’s...sweet.”
“I like sweet.”
“Said the wolf to Red Riding Hood,” Andrew noted drily.
His brother grinned.
“Besides, I thought you were dating some flight attendant.”
“Yeah, but since she picked up the San Francisco to Tokyo route, I hardly see her,” he admitted.
“I guess that would explain why you were alone on Valentine’s Day.”
“And most other days that end with a y,” Nate grumbled.
Before Andrew could respond to that, his brother’s pocket started ringing. Nate pulled out his cell phone and smiled when he saw the name on the display. Andrew started to clear up his tools while his brother answered the call.
“That was Mallory,” he said, tucking his phone away again. “She’s got four days off and is just about to get on a plane headed home.”
“I guess you’re not going to be alone tonight,” he noted.
His brother grinned. “Do you know where I can pick up some flowers?”
* * *
Maura didn’t understand why they had to go outside for recess. Mrs. Patterson, her first grade teacher, insisted that fresh air was good for them. But by the time they all got their boots and hats and coats on, recess was half-over.
Sometimes they played grounders on the climber, but today she was just hanging out on the swings with her best friend, Kristy. Not even swinging, just sitting on the cold plastic seats and waiting for the bell to ring again so they could go back inside.
“I saw Simon put a Valentine in your box on Friday.”
“He gave Valentines to everyone,” Maura said. “It’s like a rule.”
“But he gave you the biggest one,” Kristy said. “I think he likes you.”
Maura just shrugged. Kristy thought it was a big deal to know which boys liked which girls, but she didn’t really care.
“Boys give you things when they like you—especially on Valentine’s Day,” Kristy told her. “My mom’s boyfriend gave her a ring and now they’re going to get married and Greg’s going to be my new dad.”
“But you already have a dad.”
“Yeah, but my mom says he’s a deadbeat and Greg will be a better one.”
Maura frowned. It didn’t seem fair that Kristy was getting another dad when she already had one. Not that Maura wanted another dad—she already had the best dad in the world. But she thought it would be kinda cool if she could get a new mom, ’cuz the one she’d had died when Maura was little.
“And I get to be a flower girl in the wedding,” Kristy said. “But Tiffany gets to be a bridesmaid, ’cuz she’s older and ’cuz she got to be a flower girl at our mom’s last wedding. We’re gonna have matching dresses, though. Probably pink.”
Maura thought it would be fun to be in a wedding. Before Christmas, her dad had taken her out of school for a couple of days so they could go to Uncle Jack’s wedding. Her cousin, Ava, was a bridesmaid, and she got to walk down the aisle of the church just like the bride.
Knowing that Kristy was going to be in a wedding, Maura felt something curl in her belly. It was what her daddy called a green-eyed monster. She knew it wasn’t really a monster, but the bad feeling she got when she wanted what someone else had. She should be happy that Kristy was going to be in a wedding, but she wished she could be in a wedding, too.
And it really wasn’t fair that Kristy was gonna have two dads and she didn’t even have one mom.
* * *
Rachel flipped the page on the calendar when she opened up the shop Saturday morning. It was March 1st—two weeks after Valentine’s Day. And in that time, she hadn’t seen or heard from Andrew Garrett again. Which wasn’t at all unusual. In fact, if he stuck to his usual pattern, she wouldn’t see him again until August.
So while it wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t come by the shop, it was disappointing. She’d thought—hoped—that the time they’d spent together on Valentine’s Day might have meant something to him. Because it had meant something to her. The fact that he hadn’t made any effort to contact her since suggested otherwise.
She’d tried to put the events of that evening out of her mind as completely as he’d apparently done. But sometimes her thoughts would wander and she’d remember the surprising camaraderie they’d shared for a few hours—and the even more surprising tug of attraction.
There