Chose the Wrong Guy, Gave Him the Wrong Finger (12 page)

I think in a way I felt that if I didn’t ask, it wouldn’t remind him of all the humiliations of mine that he’d witnessed.

Without any seeming awareness of the push and pull within me, he gave a single nod. “No doubt.”

“Please let Dottie know not to panic about her immobility, at least as far as getting fittings done. It’s not that big a deal. I can go there if I need to, but the dress isn’t all that complicated, as far as construction goes. It will still be ready well in time for the wedding.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked at the word
wedding
. I wasn’t sure why. “I’m sure she’ll be very glad to hear it.”

I nodded, and a tense silence ballooned around us.

“So … thanks!” I said again, this time with a forced cheer that might as well have screamed sarcasm.

“Anytime.”

I put my hand out to shake hands—a gesture that always feels ridiculous and unnatural to me, like I’m pantomiming some businessman in a foreign language video (“
It was a pleasure meeting with you.
”)—just as he came in for the cursory insincere hug, and as a result I effectively jabbed him in the stomach.

We both put our hands up in surrender and laughed.

“Sorry!”

“Let’s give up,” he said, flashing that smile again. “Before something seriously embarrassing happens.”

“Amen,” I said, shaking my head. “See you later.”

And, at that moment, I wasn’t dreading it.

Chapter 8

October, Seventeen Years Ago

“What does it look like?” Quinn asked.

They were on their way to his horse farm about forty minutes down the road from her house. It was in a particularly wealthy part of the county and she had not been there before, despite having spent her whole life in the area.

He had lived there with his brother and his grandparents since his father had died and … he didn’t talk about his mother. Quinn imagined a lot of sad scenarios to explain that, but few of them were even plausible. She had no idea if she’d ever know the truth.

But she was going to meet his grandparents, and she took that to be a very good sign that things were headed in a good direction with their relationship. You don’t introduce your boyfriend or girlfriend to your family if you’re not serious, right?

“You’ll see it soon,” he said, switching lanes to pass a slower car.

“But just
tell
me.” She was unreasonably excited. It was a perfect October afternoon and they were set to have a cookout. Then she and Burke were going to stay over so he could get up early—seriously early, as in so early many people would just consider it “late”—to go fishing with his grandfather.

It was like he was giving her a really good peek at his life, and she was thrilled. Maybe she was actually going to be getting a look at her own future life!

“Is it fancy?”

“It looks a lot like that,” he said, and gestured out the passenger window.

She looked eagerly and saw an ancient wooden barn collapsing on itself, grass and weeds growing through the slats by the foundation. “Smart-ass,” she said to him, and rolled the window down to let the warm air from outside in. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes while her hair blew around her face and she sang along with the radio.

Burke drove, steady as always, patient with her loudness and constant CD-switching.

They drove for about twenty minutes and then he took an exit off the two-lane highway and pulled onto a narrower, tree-lined street. Almost immediately he pulled into a roadside bakery and drive-in parking lot. It looked like something out of the fifties. Or at least the movie and TV version of the fifties.

“The cookies?” she asked as they got out of the car.

“They also have snowballs that Frank and I used to get.” He led her to the bakery display shelves and pointed at coconut-covered fluffy icing balls. “They have cake in the middle. You want one?”

“Yes!”

“Obviously you should save it for after dinner,” he said, and then laughed.

“Oh, please.” She had a terrible sweet tooth. There was no way that thing was going to be within six inches of her for two minutes before she devoured it.

He ordered snowballs and cookies from a man in a chef’s coat with a face the color of seared meat, while she wandered around looking at the breads and the menu for hamburgers and hot dogs and other fast food. It was Saturday and there were a fair number of people there, eating at picnic tables that were set up next to the kitchen.

“How old is this place?” she asked Burke as he came to her with a bag in hand.

“I don’t know. It’s been here since I was a kid.” He took out a snowball and handed it to her.

“I wonder if everyone comes and hangs out here on Friday night.” She took a bite. The coconut spilled down her shirt. But it was good.

He watched her, looking amused. “Want a drink?”

“Mm-mm.” She shook her head. “I’m good,” she added, mouth full.

They sat at a picnic table while she finished. The landscape was green and lush, with lots of leafy trees throwing splashes of shade across swells of green fields. Across the street there was a huge old barn with a sign out front that read
ANTIQUES
. The people milling about outside were noticeably well dressed, so it was easy to imagine the antiques were pretty pricey. Not like the junk shop near
her
grandparents’ house in Thurmont.

She could see living like this.

When she finished eating they went back to the car and turned onto a winding country road. In another five minutes he was pulling into the gravel driveway of a sprawling, pristine farm of green fields, white fences, and horses. So many horses. Gleaming, shining Thoroughbreds and hunters. It looked, for all the world, like the horse-and-stable set she used to play with as a child. It had been her favorite toy. Many times she’d faked sick so she could stay home from school and play with the horses and farm.

And here it was, blooming to life right in front of her.

“I love it,” she breathed, wide-eyed.

He parked outside a low brick stable and they got out and headed toward the stately stone main house.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a bungalow in the shade on the edge of the property.

“Tenant house,” he said. “Basically a little place no one really uses for anything but storage. My granddad wants to rent it, but Dottie, my grandmother, always says she wants it there for Frank and me when we get older and want to move out. She figures it’ll keep us from moving too far away.”

“I guess it would!” She wanted to see inside. Most people would be more enamored of the big house, but something about the little place captured her imagination right away.

A man who looked to be in his thirties came out of the barn, wiping his brow with a dirt-smeared arm. “Who’s that?” she asked, as he was clearly too young to be Burke’s grandfather.

“Hm? Oh, that’s Rob. He’s in charge of keeping up with all the horse business.”

Rob stopped by the fence and took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.

“Isn’t that dangerous around a barn?” Quinn asked.

“He’s a total freak.” Burke shook his head. “I think he’s constantly stoned, but Dottie has ideas about rehabilitating him. She thinks the work and responsibility will straighten him out.
Face his demons and shoo them away
, she says.”

“Dottie?”

“My grandmother.”

“Why do you call her that?”

“It’s her name.” He laughed. “Everyone calls her that. She didn’t like how aging
Grandma
sounded.”

Quinn liked this woman already.

A black and tan dog ran and yelped excitedly at them in the yard, and the sound echoed across the fields.

It was perfect.

As they approached the house, the screen door swung open and an older man with thinning gray hair and a red-checked western shirt came out. He had a string tie around his neck and a leather belt with a big silver oval buckle cinching his generous waist.

This was obviously Burke’s grandfather, though he didn’t look nearly as intimidating as Quinn had imagined.

He was followed by a spritely whip of a woman with wavy blond hair up in a half-done bun. She wore a tan skirt that might have been suede and a summery print sleeveless blouse. There was a certain elegance to her, even though she looked slightly disheveled. It was an
elegant
kind of disheveled.

Quinn’s nerves hummed.

But her fears dissolved instantly when the older couple greeted them. Each gave her a hug in welcome and then introduced her to the dog, Zinger. When Burke’s grandfather offered her a Coke, she accepted and he handed her a bottle that looked like it had been in the fridge since the late sixties. Quinn eyed it dubiously and sent Burke a questioning glance. Could Coke go bad? If it was past its expiration date, could it make you sick?

All she needed was to spend the night she met his grandparents for the first time throwing up in the bathroom. If she was lucky, that is. What if she didn’t even make it to the bathroom?

Burke seemed oblivious to her unspoken question, so she carefully poured the Coke out a little bit at a time when no one was looking.

Of course Burke caught her as she dumped the last of it, and raised his eyebrows at her.

She grimaced and shrugged.

He looked at the bottle and nodded.

Apart from that little glitch, though, it was a perfect evening. They had steaks cooked over peach bark and they were the most delicious food Quinn had ever eaten in her life. She was in complete bliss.

When Frank showed up after dinner, Quinn felt even more at ease. She and Frank had really gotten to be friends, apart from her relationship with Burke. Sometimes he’d even call her himself, just to check and see how she was doing. Not because she was his brother’s girlfriend but because he genuinely
liked
her.

He’d even told her that.

“I like you, Quinn. Apart from the whole Burke thing, I like you.”

“
Thanks! I like you too
,” she’d said.

He’d looked surprised, so she added, “
No, I really do
.”

There was a long moment when he had looked at her, scrutinized her wordlessly. Then his gaze shifted and he had moved away, as if he had assessed something, and moved on to another task, and she was forgotten.

As twilight fell, they all sat on the front porch and Burke’s grandfather told a ghost story while Quinn listened with rapt attention. When he had her completely engaged, he ended his story with a stomp of his foot at the punch line and both Quinn and the dog jumped. Both Frank and Burke laughed.

“Burke and I both fell for that one when we were kids,” Frank said. “I think Burke fell for it more than once.”

“Probably,” Burke agreed.

“Burke, why don’t you take Quinn for a walk in the field while we clean up?” Dottie suggested. “Show her the lay of the land.”

“No, let me help clean up,” Quinn protested.

“Absolutely not, missy. You’re our guest. Frank will help out, won’t you, Frank?”

“Sure,” he said, though Quinn noticed his gaze darted away from her when she looked at him. Was he irritated that he had to clean up after her?

Burke slipped his hand into Quinn’s and said, “Come on, guest.” They took the dog with them and walked through the cut grass holding hands.

“I want to live here,” Quinn told him.

“Wouldn’t you miss your suburbia?”

“No way. I could honestly live here. I’d learn to hunt and race and”—she shrugged—“whatever else you do with the horses.”

“Breed.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “And you want to show me how to do that, right?”

He laughed outright.

“What’s with Frank?” she asked then.

“What do you mean?”

“He seemed so pissy when we left.”

Burke frowned. “Did he? More than usual?”

She laughed. “Frank isn’t usually pissy!”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No … are you?” Frank was one of the nicest guys in school. It was really touching how he had always been solicitous of her.

Burke shook his head. “We must not be talking about the same Frank.”

“Oh, stop it. Come on, he’s a great guy.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t get why you two don’t get along better.”

“This,” he said, gesturing at the land, “is Civil War country. Maybe we just have a blue-gray thing going on between us.”

“Which one are you?”

“Frank’s got no shades of gray, believe me.”

She had to laugh. “Clever.”

They got to a line of trees and Quinn glanced back at the farmhouse. Frank and his grandparents were carrying things into the house and she could barely see them for the dusk.

“Come with me,” she said, and took Burke by the hand to the other side of a wide tree.

This was the kind of thing he loved. He gave her a rakish smile. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Just thought you might find something to do with some privacy.”

Once hidden, she backed against the tree and he braced his hands on either side of her and leaned in to kiss her.

She slid her arms over his shoulders and drew him closer to her, deepening the kiss until they were pressed together so tightly that it would have been impossible to slide a sheet of paper between them.

The dog foraged around in the brush, occasionally taking off at a run, then trotting back.

She didn’t know how long they stayed there, making out in the darkening night, but by the time they came up for air it was dark out.

Which Burke pointed out was a good thing. No prying eyes upon them from afar.

They took their time walking back to the house. The windows glowed yellow from the lights burning inside. To Quinn it felt like being in a children’s book illustration, everything was just so perfect.

She was shown to her room upstairs—a small rectangle next to Burke’s larger room. Both were furnished with antiques in such perfect condition that Quinn was afraid to touch them for fear of accidentally nicking something.

Quinn brushed her teeth and put on her nightgown and headed back to her room while Burke went into the bathroom.