California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances (67 page)

He laughed at the image. “But why hospitality?”

“I liked the idea of creating destination inn. Rick — ” The blush was back. She shrugged. “He was my boyfriend at the time. Well, he and I were going to find a place, maybe in Sonoma or the foothills, where we could have a small inn, three or four rooms, and an exclusive restaurant like The French Laundry. I was going to develop a well-rated wine list.”

“But you’re not having wine tonight.”

“I’m … um … not in the mood.” She looked at the table.

He contemplated her answer and knew it wasn’t true. But there was another question he needed answered. “How long has it been since you broke up with — what was his name? Rick?”

Her startled eyes met his. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really want to be a rebound guy.”

“We’re just having dinner.”

“It could turn into something else.”

She shook her head.

“Humor me,” he said. “When did you break up?”

“December.”

Definitely rebound territory.

“How about you?” she asked. “Was there anyone special overseas? Or waiting for you back home?”

That was the problem with asking probing questions of smart women. They retaliated.

“Here you go!” The perky waitress was back with their drinks. As soon as she left, a black-clad busboy whizzed by to drop a basket of rolls and butter on the table.

Hunter took a sip of his wine, racking his brain to figure out how to derail her train of thought.

“Well?” she asked. “Was there someone?”

No way around it.
“Yes. She was killed when I lost my leg. It was over a year ago. Rehab takes a while.” He took a deep breath. “If you don’t mind, I don’t like to talk about it.”

She studied him. “Okay.”

“Your plan for the inn sounds ambitious.”

“Yeah, I guess it does. Maybe too ambitious,” she said.

“But if you don’t dream big, how do you know what you’re capable of achieving?” His words echoed in his mind. He was going to need to ask himself the same question sometime soon.

She smiled. “I guess you’re right. That’s what my mom and Marcos are always saying. ‘Dream big! Go for what you want!’” She enclosed the expressions in air quotation marks.

“Who’s Marcos?”

Sarah grinned. “My mom’s boyfriend. It feels so weird to say that. She met him in Italy. He’s a winemaker and he bought some land here and — ” she shrugged.

“So he moved here?”

“Not really. They go back and forth. I think they’re still trying to figure out how to make it all work. My mom has a day spa in Costanoa she started when my dad died. What about your family?”

He lingered on the last sip of his wine. “I’m an only child. My dad and mom live in Sausalito.” He bit a piece of bread, chewed, and swallowed. “How did your dad die?”

Sarah groaned. “Is every answer going to be like this? You’re giving me as little information as you can and then you ask me another question. Why did you want to go out to dinner? Are you in the CIA or something? Need to know only?”

He had to laugh. “No. Sorry. I don’t like to talk about my parents much. My dad and I don’t really get along.”

“Why not?”

Shit.
How was he going to answer that?

He carefully buttered another piece of bread, but before he could answer, the waitress arrived with their meals and clunked them on the table. “Bon appetite!” she said and scurried off.

He raised his glass to Sarah. As they clinked, he looked into her eyes. He could tell she wasn’t going to let up until she got the answers she wanted.

The breakup must have been bad.

“So why don’t you get along?” she asked again, watching the pasta she twirled it. She put the forkful of linguini in her mouth, delicately catching the strands with her tongue. He felt his long-dormant libido stir again.

He twirled his own pasta and ate it before answering.
Succulent, like the woman in front of him.
“My dad.” He shrugged. There was no good way to put it. “He cheats on my mom constantly and rubs it in her face.”

“How horrible! Why does she stay?”

He took another sip of wine and considered how to answer the question. They were getting deep for a first date.

“Sorry,” she said. “Probably none of my business.”

“No.”

“The reason I asked — I mean why I care — is my mom recently found out my dad had a whole other family in Los Baños. His mistress was pregnant with my half-sister when my dad died.”

“Oh.” That explained a lot. He fished for words and settled on the truth. “I really don’t know why my mother never left. We never talked about it.”
Not entirely true, but close enough.
“Then she got cancer and there didn’t seem to be any point. Now she’s supposed to be in remission, but she still seems tired all the time. Doesn’t do much. Sits in the living room watching the bay, reading romances, and drinking her tea.”

“Sounds sad.”

“Yes.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. For a dinner that was supposed to be a joyful new beginning, it was turning into a real downer.

“How did they feel about you going in the service?”

He put his fork down. “You don’t give up, do you?” He grinned at her to take the sting from the words.

She smiled. “Sorry. I really like to know people, discover what makes them tick. That’s why an inn is so exciting to me. Think of all the people I’ll meet, the stories they’ll be able to tell me. People from all over the world come to this area.”

Her face radiated joy and he had to chuckle. “Okay, Miss Nosey, they hated the idea. My father thought it was a waste of my time and talent and my mother was afraid I’d be killed.”

“She must have freaked when you were hurt.”

“Something like that.” He sipped his wine. Two could play this game. “So how come you aren’t in school?”

“Things happen.”

He put his glass back on the table. “That’s it? You quiz me about my life and I get ‘Things happen’? Not fair, Miss Sarah. Not fair at all.”

She flashed him a smile. “But that’s all you’re going to get.”

“Secrets aren’t good between couples.”

“Oh, are we a couple?”

He touched her hand. “Could be.”

She pulled her hand back. “I’ve got an inn to open, an inn you’re very anxious to move into, I might add. I don’t have time to be in a relationship.”

The brightness had left her voice. She wasn’t telling him everything, but he’d let it go. For now.

“What’s the last movie you saw?” He picked up his fork again.

She smiled and launched into a litany of her favorite movies, most of which he’d seen and enjoyed.

An hour later, they left the restaurant, now arguing about the dismal state of affairs in Washington and how to fix it. Once they exited Highway 1 to return to the inn, Hunter covered her hand with his. “I had a good time tonight. Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He let out the breath he was holding. He may be looking at a rebound relationship, but it was the most fun he’d had in a long time. The head doctors had told him to make sure he became friendly with new people to help his adjustment. Maybe that would be enough for him and Sarah.

The gravel crunched as he maneuvered the Jeep up her driveway. A beat-up Honda Civic was parked next to the inn. He looked at Sarah and saw her face had paled.

She didn’t wait for him to help her out, but sprang from the Jeep and stalked to the car. A bearded man got out, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.

Hunter’s anger surged.

Her relationship with Rick was
not
over.

• • •

Damn Rick!
Sarah pushed at his chest in fury. “Get off me!”

He let her go.

She could feel Hunter’s looming presence behind her.

“You okay?” Hunter asked.

She nodded. “Hunter meet Rick. Rick, Hunter.” Good to know her mother’s drilling in manners came in handy. She looked at Rick. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, or how you found me — ”

“Your mother told me. She thought I had a right to see you.”

Of course. Her mother’s upbringing trumped everything.

“Who are you?” Rick glared at Hunter.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I’m the baby’s father,” Rick shot back.

Shit.
She glanced at Hunter.

His military stoicism was back, rigid shoulders and blank face. “I’ll see you to your door,” he said.

“Wait.” Rick’s voice sounded tinny compared to Hunter’s. “Are you
seeing
him? Without giving me a chance? We were good together, Sarah. Don’t throw it away!”

“I’m not talking about this right now,” she said. “I’m tired. It’s been a long weekend. Come back tomorrow around ten and we can have coffee and talk. Good-night.”

“You’re not throwing me out. I drove all this way. I’ve got nowhere else to stay. You’ve got plenty of room.”

“I’m sure my mother will put you up. She’s got an empty room.” Sarah called over her shoulder as she walked with Hunter to the front door. It would serve Elizabeth right. Just because Elizabeth’s parents forced her to marry, didn’t mean Sarah was doing any such thing.

The gravel crunched as Rick gave up and turned to go. The car door slammed and the engine sputtered. Stones sprayed as he tore down the driveway.

She got her key from her purse and put it in the lock.

“So you’re pregnant.” Hunter’s voice was emotionless.

She leaned her forehead against the door and fought back her tears. “Yeah.”

“The song and dance about not drinking wine at dinner was a cover-up. And I bet it isn’t a pulled muscle.”

She knew it was the death-knell of whatever chance she had with Hunter. “No.”

“I see.”

No, you don’t see at all.

“You going to be okay? He won’t come back, will he?”

She shook her head. “Rick’s not dangerous. He’s just mad.” She took a deep breath and turned. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Hunter. I enjoyed it.”

They stared at each other for several long moments. Her heart ached with all that was unsaid.

“You’re welcome.” He turned and went back to the Jeep.

She opened her door and shut it behind her. Daisy was waiting.

Sarah slumped to the floor, wrapped her arms around her dog and burst into tears.

By ten the next morning Sarah had forced down toast and half a cup of decaf tea. She was dressed in bulky knits, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her face scrubbed. She’d skipped makeup and jewelry.

Rick arrived promptly.

“Come in,” she said, maneuvering away from him to avoid any awkward attempts at intimacy.

Daisy sniffed Rick, turned away, and moved close to Sarah as she walked into the kitchen.

“Coffee?” Sarah asked. “I only have decaf.”

“Decaf?” Rick asked.

Sarah gestured to her stomach.

“Oh, yeah. Sure, decaf will be fine.” He pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “Where’d you get the dog?”

Sarah poured the coffee for him and a glass of water for herself. She didn’t need any more acid in her stomach. “She showed up one day and stayed.”

Rick looked at her steadily.

She tried to remember how she’d felt about him.

He’s a stranger.

He lowered his eyelids and picked up his coffee. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said. “I really am. I overreacted. I guess I couldn’t understand how our lives could change so suddenly when we had them all planned out.”

“Didn’t someone say ‘Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans’?”

“I dunno. You were the scholar, not me.” He reached out a hand.

She pulled hers back.

He sighed. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

She chewed her lower lip. There wasn’t anything to say.

“We had something good, Sarah. We can get it back.” He gestured at her stomach. “Our love will just make it better. Besides, a child should have two parents. All the statistics prove that children raised in an intact family are better off than if they’re raised by a single parent.”

A stab of guilt hit her gut.
Am I being selfish? Maybe I should try harder.
The baby deserves the best chance.

She forced herself to smile a little at Rick. “What are you suggesting? I can’t go back to Davis. My life is here. I’m opening an inn.”

Just like we planned.

He drummed his fingers on the table. “I’ve got a year and a half at Davis before I get my degree. That degree is important to me. I’ll be working at restaurants during the summer. The contacts I make will be fantastic.”

She could see him gathering steam, like she was watching a scene in a movie, a portrait of someone she didn’t know telling her about himself.

I’m being too harsh.

“Then how do we make it work? If you’re gone all the time, I’ll still need a chef for the inn. We both know I can’t cook.”

He grinned and she saw a flash of the boy she’d loved.

“That’s the truth,” he said and studied his coffee. “The decaf is really awful, isn’t it?” He smiled and said, “I figure while I’m in school I can come down here every other weekend, stay with you here — we can pick up where we were before … before … ” He gestured at her.

“Say it,” she said.

“What?” He looked truly puzzled.

She leaned toward him. “The baby. Make it real. My pregnancy. Our baby. He or she.”

“Of course.” He took another sip of coffee. “It’s no big deal. I mean. It was. But now I’ve accepted it.”

She didn’t say anything, but her tears gathered. She forced them down, pursing her lips together.

Why am I thinking this is even possible?

“So you’d come down four days a month and you think we can build a relationship with that?”

“It’s what we did when you were still at Berkeley. If it worked then, why won’t it work now?”

“Because I’m pregnant.”

His forehead creased. “What’s that got to do with it?”

She shook her head.
How could two people change so much in two months?
She stood up. Daisy, who’d been lying in her dog bed, immediately followed suit and stood next to her. “I don’t think we can repair the damage in a few weekends a month. What you said to me was horrible. Wanting me to get rid of our child was the worst thing you could have done.” Her control on her tears slipped.