A Captivating Conundrum (14 page)

Chris shook his head. "I would
love
chocolate chip pancakes!"

"Then, that is what ye shall have," she laughed.

Clapping his hands, Chris jumped from the chair, raced around the table and threw himself into Beth's arms. "You are the best."

I leaned against the cupboard watching the two virtual strangers act as if they were the best of friends. Beth reached up and patted him on the head, sending him back to the table with a soft command.

Chris's face was filled with glee. I couldn't blame him. After all, if 'whatever' had a 'good' day when it'd created Chris, then it must have had the best damn day of its whole life when it'd brought Beth into the world.

Ten

~ Hers ~

The pancakes were frying, the next pot of coffee was brewing, and I was actually enjoying the banter going on between Bobby and Chris. They were laughing and trading stories about everything from high school to Broadway, and my heart felt like it was going to explode with happiness when I heard Bobby's carefree voice. Chris seemed to bring out a new life in him I hadn't seen before, and it felt good.

As I set yet another plate of pancakes down in front of Chris, he gave me that puppy-dog grin. It'd taken me only minutes to learn that most of his bravado was simply a defense mechanism to stop people in their tracks. And as the hours progressed, I watched his mask completely fall away, leaving behind a young man having a relaxed day with no worries.

My other guest…well, he was still a bit tough to figure out. Matt was sitting there swapping stories, having fun and laughing up a storm with Chris and Bobby when I put his special order down in front of him and he turned those eyes on me—which had turned to silver with his gray t-shirt firmly in place. "Thank you."

The face was contented. Yet another look I hadn't seen before. Clearing my throat, wiping my mind clean and clear, and walking as far away from the gaze that seemed to turn me into a silly girl, I took the bowl of fruit from the fridge and sat down across from Chris.

"That's all you're going to eat?" Chris inquired, as he shoved another huge forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

"I love fruit." I replied, popping a strawberry. The one thing I could count on in this neck of the woods was the Farmer's Market would always supply the best berries, peaches, apples—even corn on the cob; the stuff was absolute heaven. 

"But you didn't eat anything at our lunch meeting or for dinner last night, unless you sneak around in the wee hours and gorge," Matt's voice sounded concerned.

I popped a grape. "I do, but that's only on Saturday nights when the moon is full."

Bobby snickered.

Matt grinned. "Vampire, are you?"

"Nope, cow-tipping."

Bobby choked on his pancake and reached for his coffee, as Chris sent me a smile from across the table. "Small town farm girl?"

"No…just like tipping cows. Little hobby of mine," my voice was completely dry. "Although, what I
would
like to do on a Saturday night is head straight to the city and shove a pitchfork up Nicole's ass. THAT would be an evening to remember!" I said, holding up my coffee mug in salute.

Chris reached out and took my hand. "You are adorable." His eyes suddenly lit up. "Do you shop?"

"Well, we have groceries in the house, so…yeah."

"No, silly. I mean are there malls out here in the middle of nowhere?"

I sat back. "Of course. The rich need places to send their servants to. You wouldn't want them to be without their cognac or cigars in the middle of the night." 

"Don't like rich people?" Matt asked.

I thought back over my experiences. "Not at all, rich is fine. Actually, I don't hate anything except stupid."

Matt smiled. "Everyone should go to Harvard?"

"I mean common sense stupid. People don't need to know the theories behind physics—hell, I don't know the theories behind physics—but when people have absolutely no common sense and stare up at you with that glazed expression, it's really annoying. Let's just say that some of the rich I met as a youngster were just about the dumbest breed ever created. Even your L.A. surgically-enhanced babes probably have a better grasp of the real world than those guys did."

I stared at Matt's face. He looked as if he was picturing those high-heeled, low-brained girls and wanted to defend them, but he just smiled. Apparently, he had nothing. "What were they like?"

"Well, let's see…one of them wanted to play 'gentleman farmer' and planted a field of flowers without any help. He couldn't understand why they weren't coming up and asked my father what was wrong."

"Bad seed?"

"Nope. He'd planted the bulbs upside down."

Chris snickered. "At least the squirrels, rabbits and groundhogs had lovely daffodil-filled dwellings."

I nodded. "True. Or. Satan had a lovely ceiling down in Hell. Oh, and the lady of the manor wanted to cook Thanksgiving dinner once and bought a turkey that could literally feed Broadway. She looked at my mother and said, 'I should probably keep this bird in for a couple of hours, huh?'"

"Eww," Matt uttered.

"
Right
? We had the local ambulance standing by when they all celebrated 'Turkey Day' with salmonella poisoning."

Bobby turned away from the dishes. "It never got that far, remember? The dining room?"

The image slammed back into my head. "That's right! The lady of the manor had first spent a ton of dinero to update the dining room before her party. Spent some god-awful amount on wallpaper that was hand-painted over in Europe somewhere; it was scenes of a foxhunt."

Chris shrugged. "Very British countryside chic."

I grinned. "This was a foxhunt right out of
CSI
. We're talking deer hanging over horses, and pools of blood dripping on the hounds as that sat by their masters' sides. It was like Freddy Krueger visits the Queen. Bleck."

Matt laughed out loud, and I was suddenly wishing that he was closer to me so I could see the warmth in those eyes. 

I shook the thought away. "Her Thanksgiving guests had gotten all liquored up waiting for dinner, and when she sat them down in the dining room most of them ended up puking
way
before they could ingest any turkey, so it was actually alcohol poisoning that brought them to the ER."

"Sounds like some real winners." Matt smiled.

"Good for a laugh, though. Just shows you money doesn't buy brains."

His brows moved up and down on his forehead. "Aren't you rich?"

I shrugged. "Now. But growing up poor, you respect it a hell of a lot more. My brains came first; I like to think the money's just a bonus for all the hard work. Plus, I'm frugal as all get out. I always have those memories in the back of my mind of having nothing—so I'm not a mansion, sports car kind of person."

He nodded. "Me, too."

I turned back to Chris. "Okay, let's see…stores. We have very high-class boutiques here, and
Victoria's Secret
, my personal favorite. Then there are the well-known names from the City for your clothing, household, etc. They spare no expense. I mean, this certainly isn't the '400 Club' anymore, but they get their stuff."

"I really need to go to
VS
. I get my cologne there." Chris nodded. "You want to go shopping with me?"

I laughed. The exuberance that came out of him was beyond compelling; he was like his own little aphrodisiac. "Sure. I could use some things."

Bobby looked at Chris. "You shop at
Victoria's Secret
?"

"Of course. Beauty is a must. Right?" He looked at me for confirmation.

"Right."

"Can we see what you buy?"

I turned to Matt, seeing the teasing grin pasted on his face. "Perv."

He laughed.

"The Ben-Gay would stain the silk," I said. "A big, disgusting stain that smelled like menthol."

Chris chimed in, "Ben-Gay?"

Retelling the tale, Chris began to laugh. He stared at me with a look of sheer love, like a new best friend that I just had to have by my side.

"I like Ben-Gay," he said. "At least, I did until I put it on my balls just to see…burned like hell!"

As I felt the now slightly cooled mixture hit the side of my face, I could barely contain myself. Matt had, yet again, sent another shot of coffee flying from his mouth. 

"I am SO sorry." His body jerked in the chair as he tried to stop his laughter.

"Not a problem." I rolled my eyes. "Next time we dine together I'll just stay upwind."

Standing up, I looked at the men laughing all around me and felt…safe, as I raced back up the stairs for shower number two. Upside? I was super clean today.

~***~

The black and pink striped bags were sitting on the chair beside us as Chris and I sat down to have a small snack after our shopping excursion.

The waitress sort of circled around the room, continuously glancing at the cute face of Chris as if trying to judge whether or not he'd be interested in seeing her outside of the elegant room.

As I caught her eye, I felt a bit bad for the girl.

"So why did you let us stay?" His melodic voice took over our little corner of the world.

"Bobby asked me to."

He squinted. "I have a feeling you've said 'no' to Bobby before."

I sighed. "I don't know. You both seemed so…nice. Besides, your friend did a very big favor for me by taking on the piece that I wrote. I thought it was the least I could do."

"Believe me I know Matt, and if he hadn't wanted to do it he would have had no trouble saying so."

"Well…I thought it was nice, considering everyone says he's all about the 'song and dance' part of life."

Chris daintily placed a forkful of the Key Lime pie in his mouth and rolled his eyes back in his head. I was almost angry, knowing that no matter what this man ate he probably never gained an ounce.

Chris smiled. "He does love it. Matt's so amazingly talented that he has blown away more than one audience—not to mention more than one member of your fair sex—with that voice and body combo." 

I could imagine.

"But Matt is different," Chris continued. "He tries so hard; he even takes acting classes to become better and better. He's a lot like you in that way."

"I couldn't act if I tried," I snorted. 

"I mean the work, dear." He smiled. "Bobby showed me your personal space."

I looked down at the table.

"Beautifully decorated, by the way. He says you study a great deal to learn everything there is to know about everything, except math."

I nodded. "I hate math; never saw a need for it. All that work and then they hand you a calculator when you grow up, so what's the point?"

"Agreed." He winked. "After seeing your marvelous inner sanctum, I have to say you strike me as a true Renaissance woman. Why the intense drive to learn?"

"I just want to know, and what I don't know I want to figure out."