A Good Time Page 3

“Baby?” She laughed, and he jerked back. Startling him hadn’t been her intention, but the man was clueless. “What’s next? Dinner on the table every night at six?”

  “That would be nice. It’s one thing I do miss from my marriage to Marion.”

  Yeah, that’s what every woman wanted during a proposal—to be compared to the ex-wife. “I can’t do this, Richard.”

  “Do what?” He scooted forward on the couch.

  “Marry you. I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t get me.”

  “I get you, Indy. I love you.” He grabbed her hand and held it to his chest.

  She tugged free and tried not to laugh. “You love the idea of me, but not me. Not really. I’m the girl who leaves tawdry messages for you in the middle of the day. The girl who loves the ceramic cows in her kitchen. The girl who strips her pantyhose off in the middle of the street.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  The question said it all. He would never understand her. He didn’t know how.

  “Because I can. I’m not the right woman for you because you can’t imagine doing something ridiculous or silly.”

  “Don’t do this.”

  “You need to move on, Richard. I was a nice distraction during your divorce, but now that it’s over, you need to look for whatever will make you happy.” She handed him the key and the ring. That part was hard. The price on the ring would pay her rent for months. She moved away from the couch.

  “You make me happy.”

  “But I won’t for long.” She crossed her arms. “I can’t give you what you’re looking for.”

  Backing away from her, his hands balled into fists. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

  “No.” Priceless. So much for being nice and letting him down easy. Her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket. Griffin. “I need to take this.”

  She turned away from Richard, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. “Hello.”

  “Hey. Sorry to call so late. I planned to leave a message.”

  His rough voice massaged her irritated nerves.

  “It’s fine. I just got home. What did you need?”

  “I want to refine my search for a house. Are you free for lunch tomorrow? I have some things I want to talk about.”

  She paused, immediately thinking he was trying to make another date, but something in his voice convinced her otherwise.

  “Sure. Text me the time and place.” She paused again. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, long day. See you tomorrow.”

  She hung up and turned back to Richard.

  “There is someone else. Don’t try to lie.”

  “That was a client.”

  The disgusted humph made her want to slap him.

  “What kind of client calls after ten?”

  “The kind who happens to be a friend. Someone who wants to make plans. Someone who knows I don’t mind late-night calls.” She recrossed her arms. Time to end it. For good.

  He stared at her with eyes burning. “I’ve felt it for months now. You’ve been pulling away, and I’ve been trying to hold on. I guess I’m too late.”

  His eyes darkened and new wrinkles spread around them. Indy’s stomach fluttered and she clutched her phone in her hand. He’d never given her any reason to fear him. He was controlling and manipulative, but never violent.

  “No one else can give you what I can. Be careful who you choose to be with.” He snatched the bouquet of roses from the table. “And remember. I always take what’s mine.”

  He stormed out the door, and she stood silently. What the hell was that? She inhaled deeply and locked the door. Good riddance.

  I always take what’s mine. What was he talking about? Would he want the gifts he’d given her? He could have the ugly-ass furniture he’d insisted on getting for the living room. She stripped her clothes off in the middle of the room and tossed her T-shirt on the white leather couch.

  The move would’ve driven Richard crazy. Everything has its place. She laughed and threw her panties on the coffee table.

  She hadn’t felt so free in a really long time.

  Chapter 2

  After a long, hot shower, Indy called Quinn, and like a good sister, Quinn arrived quickly, carrying chocolate cake.

  Cake. Not cookies. In their family, cookies made you feel better when things went wrong. They celebrated with cake. So much for sisterly commiseration.

  Quinn rushed into the living room. “Are you okay? I didn’t have any cookies at home and didn’t think you’d want to wait for me to make some.”

  Relief eased into Indy. Quinn did want to support her. Indy took the plate. “So you just happened to have chocolate cake lying around?”

  “Well, you know how I get when I’m nervous. I tried a new recipe.” Quinn tucked her short dark hair behind her ears.

  “Nervous about what? The wedding?”

  “Dinner with Dad. You forgot, didn’t you?”

  Indy rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t forget. I don’t know what you’re so worried about. He’ll be thrilled that you’re getting married to a nice, stable guy. Plus, I’ll be there, so he’ll have plenty of things to pick at.”

  Indy led the way to the kitchen, anxious to get away from Richard’s furniture. “What do you want with cake? Wanna get drunk?”

  “Uh . . . no. Just some water for me.”

  Something in Quinn’s voice made Indy spin around. “We always drink at least a bottle of wine when we get rid of a boyfriend. What’s up?”

  Quinn’s cheeks grew pink, and she fidgeted like she had when they were kids and she tried to lie.

  Then the lightbulb went on. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you? The rushed wedding and now you’re not drinking.”

  Quinn smiled, and her eyes became misty. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but we decided we were going to wait. But then Ryan spilled to Griffin.”

  “Griffin knows and I’m just hearing now?”

  “He told him earlier today.” Quinn pulled out a chair and sat. “Ryan proposed before we knew. He wants us married before the baby comes, and I don’t want to be huge at my own wedding. So rushed it is.”

  “And you’re worried Dad will figure it out?”

  Fear filled Quinn’s wide eyes. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I’m worried he won’t like Ryan.”

  “Everyone loves Ryan. You have nothing to worry about.” Indy grabbed two glasses and filled them with milk. Then she grabbed two forks. No need to dirty plates when they would certainly finish the cake. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

  Satisfaction filled Indy. She’d spent the summer trying to show Quinn that she could find love and even nudged Quinn into Ryan’s arms. Hmm . . . maybe she could have a new career as a matchmaker. It would probably be more lucrative than the current real estate market.

  Quinn bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Tonight is supposed to be about you. What happened with Richard?”

  “He proposed.”

  Quinn choked on her milk. “What? I thought he was still married.”

  “The divorce finally went through. We celebrated last weekend because he was sure his wife would sign this week.” She’d planned to spend all of Sunday in bed with Richard, but it didn’t work. What should’ve been pure pleasure barely registered as so-so. Richard had been right; she had been pulling away from him. The relationship had become boring.

  “So you celebrated and then what? What changed?”

  “Sex with Richard was, I don’t know . . . efficient.”

  Quinn barked out another laugh. “What, no foreplay?”

  “It’s not that. It was more like taking the shortest route to get from point A to point B. No journey, no adventure, no detours.”

  “Yeah, we all know how you like your detours.”

  “Anyway, he came over tonight with a ring and a key to his house. The house he shared with his wife and kids. I don’t want to get married. Definitely not to him. I knew that going in, but he obviously didn’t.” Indy took
a forkful of cake and shoved it in her mouth. She had never sent mixed signals about marriage, not to Richard or anyone else.

  “How’d he take it?”

  Indy swallowed the creamy, smooth cake and took a swig of milk. Cake was not making her feel better. “Not well. He accused me of having someone else.”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow in question.

  “No. I haven’t done anything with anyone, unless you count Griffin.”

  Quinn’s mouth dropped open.

  “I haven’t done anything with him. Even though it’s tempting. He flirts with me all the time. He makes it hard to resist. But I remained monogamous. Then Richard . . .”

  “What?”

  Unease twisted through her. She poked at the cake. “He got weird. He took the flowers he brought me and said he always takes what’s his.”

  “What did he mean by that?” Quinn took a small bite of cake and made a face. “I’m going back to my usual recipe.”

  Indy’s mouth watered at the thought of Quinn’s chocolate cake. “I have no idea what he meant. Maybe he wants all the stuff he bought me. Maybe he was spewing crap because I dumped him.” She tasted another bite of cake. “You’re right. The regular recipe is better. I don’t know why you would mess with perfection.”

  Indy sighed. Her mind wandered over the months she’d wasted on Richard. How had she lost herself? “You know, I don’t know why I let it go on for so long. I know better. He kept trying to change me.”

  “Like how?”

  She thought back across the many times over the months. Which example to choose? “One time, he invited me to go to a business party, cocktails and dinner. He offered to buy me a new outfit to wear. After two department stores and one huge fight, I told him to find someone else to take. Every outfit he picked out looked like it came from the closet of the queen of England.”

  Indy described the dresses Richard had chosen until Quinn laughed so hard, she had tears streaming down her face.

  When Quinn quieted, Indy continued. “Afterward, he came over with a gift to apologize.”

  “What was it?”

  “A string of perfectly lovely pearls.”

  “What’s wrong with pearls?”

  “Nothing. But he bought me pearls assuming that if I wore pearls to the dinner, I would have to wear an equally boring dress. It’s like he wanted me to be a fifties wife.” Indy shook her head. “Tonight he even suggested we have a baby and I stay home to raise it and make dinner every night.”

  Quinn broke out in another bout of laughter, and this time Indy joined her. The ridiculousness of the night beat her down. She had to laugh.

  If she didn’t laugh, she’d fall apart crying.

  After Quinn left to go home to her fiancé, Indy dove into de-Richarding her house. All of the clothes and presents he’d given her she tossed in trash bags. If he wanted his crap back, he could have it. The process had been long and draining. She’d had good times with Richard, and going through all the stuff brought back memories.

  By the time the sun came up, she was spent emotionally and finally went to bed.

  When she woke hours later, gritty-eyed and exhausted, she saw Richard had called twice. His messages were kind and apologetic. Just like they had been when he’d blown off a date with her. She was done with his games.

  After crawling out of bed, she checked her e-mail. She had nothing going on. If Griffin would buy something, she could quit working at the bar. Juggling two jobs to pay the bills was exhausting. Commission from that sale would give her time to find something else or build a better client base.

  She went back to bed, thinking she’d rest for a while until she had to meet Griffin. Unfortunately, the fatigue from her long night dragged her under, and the next time she woke, she was running late.

  Skipping a shower and showing up looking anything shy of professional was not an option. Her lightweight navy blazer and skirt paired well with the cream camisole she chose. No amount of makeup could fix the pasty complexion, so she primped and fussed at her hair, hoping it would be good camouflage.

  Without thinking, she put on the sapphire earrings Richard had given her that went so well with the suit. She wore them so often, she’d almost forgotten they’d been a gift from him. His words caught in her mind. I always take what’s mine. If returning his gifts would rid her of him and his possessive nature, she’d gladly agree. She pressed her lips together.

  She wasn’t even sure why she was so upset. Things hadn’t been fabulous for a long time between her and Richard. Coming in second to his ex-wife never sat well with Indy. She could understand taking a backseat to his kids, but it had never been about them. Time to let go and move on.

  She excelled at moving on.

  Traffic at midday was almost nonexistent, so she made good time getting to the restaurant. She drove through the neighborhood, praying Griffin would be late. She pulled into the lot of the mom-and-pop diner. Her tire smacked into a crater of a pothole before easing into a spot. Griffin had already arrived.

  Just my luck. Why can’t he be like a regular businessman who gets hung up in meetings?

  She hurried from her car with another apology on her lips. Griffin was leaning against his car, intensely focused on his phone. His posture gave the impression of a relaxed man, shoulders slightly slumped, legs crossed at the ankle, but his face belied the image. Jaw muscles tight, mouth straight, and a slight furrow between his eyes. Nice to know she wasn’t the only one having a crappy day.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. I have no excuse. I overslept.”

  “No problem,” he said distractedly. “You’re only a few minutes late. I got here early.”

  She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder, headed toward the entrance, and realized he didn’t follow. “Griffin?”

  “I’m coming,” he answered. “Did you say you overslept for our one-thirty appointment?”

  “Yes.”

  His gaze landed on her face, studying her more intently than he had any house she’d shown him. His brown eyes narrowed in concern. “Are you sick? You’re not looking too well.”

  “I’m fine. Are you ready to eat?” She pointed toward the door.

  “What happened?” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his expensive, Italian, tailor-made pants like he had no intention of moving.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” On a good day, she had a hard time facing Griffin’s constant scrutiny; on a day like today she wanted to hide. She strode into the diner and waited for him.

  Thick, greasy air assaulted her, and she looked at the ancient Formica tables and cracked red vinyl seats.

  The bell above the door tinkled when Griffin decided to finally join her. He pointed to a table, and they sat.

  “KD’s Diner, huh? Eat here often?” she asked, looking around the simple restaurant.

  “I haven’t been in here in years.”

  She pulled out her notebook and pen. “So what changes do you want to make regarding the house hunt?”

  “I’d like to find a big, old house in need of renovations. I’d be able to make it into whatever I want.” He slid his phone into his pocket. Her pen froze.

  “If you want something built-to-suit, we can look for land farther out west or north. I would think it’d be easier to hire an architect to design what you want.”

  “It would, I’m sure, but closer to the city is better. I also want something I can work on myself. I can’t build a house from scratch, but I can tear one apart.”

  She didn’t try to suppress the laughter. “What are you going to do, load lumber and drywall onto the roof of your Jag?”

  Irritation stared back at her. “I like expensive toys.” He reached out and flicked her earring. “You’re not immune to trinkets either. That doesn’t mean there’s nothing more to you.”

  The reminder of Richard’s pricey gift startled her. She pulled away from his reach and blinked rapidly. She would not let Griffin rattle her. “Excuse me.”

  She rushe
d to the bathroom to compose herself.

  After splashing her face with cool water, she dabbed at it with the rough, brown paper towel. She regretted not having a full complement of makeup in her purse. She was able to fix her eyes but decided lipstick drew attention to her pale complexion.

  She braced her palms against the sink. What am I doing here? The last thing I need to do is hang out with Griffin.

  At least she knew where she stood with him. There was no pretense there. He didn’t think much of her, which explained why they were eating lunch at a cheap diner. The man had more money than God, and he brought her to this.

  He knew she belonged here, not some five-star restaurant.

  She yanked the door, which stuck, the wood swollen. Griffin’s back faced her. She took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt.

  When she sat across from him, he asked, “I ordered coffee. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, thank you. Where do you want me to look for the handyman-special homes? It’ll be slim pickings.” She picked up her pen, ready to write, to be the professional she professed to be.

  “I’m open as far as location goes, but not too far from the city.”

  He took a drink of coffee, watching her over the rim.

  She held her cup in both hands for the warmth. Between the air-conditioning and Griffin’s steady gaze, she felt chilled. The coffee was cheap but good. The silence at the table, unsettling.

  Griffin handed her a menu. She looked at her options, knowing she’d order only a salad. It gave her eyes somewhere to look besides at Griffin, a place for her mind to focus instead of on Richard.

  “Hi. Need a few more minutes?” the waitress asked.

  Indy looked up at the woman’s name tag. Lily. Pretty name. “No. I’m ready. I’ll have a garden salad, no dressing. Some lemons on the side, please.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No. I’m good with the coffee.”

  Lily turned to Griffin. “How about you?”

  His attention remained on Indy. “You need to eat more than a salad.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You’re worn out. A salad isn’t enough.”

  Lily bounced her gaze back and forth, pen poised but not writing.

  Griffin turned to her. “I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries. So will she.”