Finish What We Started (10 page)

He nodded. “I built this house.”

“About that—” she waved her hand in the air, “—this place is...is...I don’t know what to say about it, Lee. It’s incredible.”

“It’s been a hell of a hobby,” he agreed.

Mark and Sarah had gifted him their shares of a plot of land his father had left all three of them. Nothing had been done to it since his father had bought it twenty years before with the idea of building their dream home. Lee had figured he’d do the same thing. Hell, he had nothing but time anyway. Things went badly when he had time to think. Lee kept himself as busy, and therefore as exhausted, as possible, building what his mother and sister called the Palace of Misery.

He told Candy he’d lived in a travel trailer on the lot for a while and that had been the truth. After the undergrounds went in and then the slab, he’d paid three thousand dollars for a beat-up old trailer and ran extension cords for electricity. He’d hired some of his construction buddies to come in on weekends and help him frame up the main skeleton, but even then he’d swung a hammer that whole time until he was too tired to think and fell into bed, worn out.

Still, he worked on his house mostly alone. He moved into the downstairs as soon as it was habitable. First sleeping on a cot in the great room, eventually moving into a bedroom as it was drywalled, plastered and painted. Mark moved in and helped him design the kitchen. It was nice to have another guy around, but no matter how long his brother lived there, it was still Lee’s project.

Through the meditative qualities of laying flooring and cutting tile, spreading plaster and painting, he sorted out his feelings. There was a lot to recommend the Zen of sanding a hardwood floor to figuring out where your life went wrong. Goals shifted. Points of view altered to give new perspective. Eventually, thoughts of Candy were no longer all consuming.

“A hobby?” she asked in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? What are you going to do with it? Sell it?”

“Hell no. I live here. Someday I’d like to have a wife and kids.” He’d always wanted it to be her. He’d never been able to picture any other woman in this house.

Again, he looked at her lying near him and took in her blonde hair spread out on his comforter. The last couple of weeks had laid waste to all the construction therapy. She was back in his thoughts constantly. But this time, she’d forgiven him.

If he concentrated on that and tried to forget that she’d left him at all, maybe they could be more than friends. The idea hung there, waiting for the slightest encouragement from her blue-eyed gaze. He still had a hold of her hand and gave it an almost imperceptible tug, but she pulled loose from his grasp. A deep rumbling carried up from the end of the bed. They simultaneously rose up on their elbows. Jose walked up the covers between them, purring loudly, then flopped on his side so that his body ran the length of Lee’s torso. The tension in the room disappeared as if he had imagined it in the first place.

She flashed Lee a big toothy grin. “Hey look. I found your cat.”

Chapter Twelve

A day after Jose reappeared, Marisol came home from the eight-day spring training road trip with the Rockets baseball team. She called on her cell phone on the way home from the airport to find out how things went with the cat. Lee deflected the question and told her instead he’d meet her at her condo. He loaded Jose in the cat carrier and tossed all his kitty accessories into a grocery bag. He drove like a crazy person in an effort to get there first, but it basically amounted to a tie.

He parked his truck at the same time a black SUV rolled to a stop in front of her place. She jumped out of the passenger seat and waved at him. He recognized the driver who hopped out of the SUV and grabbed her bag from the back. Lee watched with amusement when the man kissed her cheek before climbing back into the Cadillac and leaving.

“Hey,” he said as she approached. “So when did the Rockets’ second baseman become a chauffeur?”

She gave him a blank look that he wasn’t falling for and a shrug that didn’t convince him either. “He’s a good driver.”

“I’ll bet,” he said as lecherously as possible.

“Shut up, Lee.”

He laughed. “And when did the Rockets’ second baseman start kissing you goodbye?”

“It was on the cheek.” She was staring at the cat carrier.

“The cheek is like a gateway body part. Pretty soon he’ll be kissing your neck, then your lips. Dear God, I hate to think where that man’s lips will end up.”

Oh holy shit, she was blushing.

“Why is my cat in there?”

He let her have the conversational detour, but he wasn’t dropping this topic forever. Marisol rarely dated and certainly not jocks. Occupational suicide, she called it. This was a very interesting development.

He led the way to her front door. “Come in the house, I’ll explain.”

She didn’t freak out nearly as much as he thought she would. She even tried to reimburse him for the vet bills, but he wouldn’t let her. Now that Jose was home, he went right back to ignoring Lee. Ridiculously, he felt sort of affronted at Jose’s lack of loyalty.

“Let me take you out to dinner, then,” she said. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothin’. Are you sure you don’t already have plans?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“If you say the words ‘Rockets’ second baseman’ again, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Chuckling, he kissed her other cheek, so as not to taint the one previously bussed by the Rockets’ second baseman.

“Want me to pick you up? I’m calling Holly, too.” She cuddled her cat to her chest.

“Nah, I’ll meet you there at eight.”
There
meant Infinity Blue, Mark’s restaurant. He was looking forward to dinner with friends. Since Candy’s return, he’d spent way too much time in his head. It was a damn good time for a diversion.

* * *

The man on the other side of the peephole looked like a model in an unnerving kind of way. Candace thought of the glossy magazine photos in
Vogue
of the girly male runway models. Her date—because who else could he be—was pretty, very pretty.

She groaned. What had her mother gotten her into?

After Lee brought her back to her parents’ house, she’d told her mother to set her up with someone. Anyone would do. And then she’d had a very long shower to wash away all mixed feelings Lee had brought out. There had been a moment there when she was positive he was going to kiss her and she wasn’t entirely certain she would have stopped him. She’d wanted to talk to him about changing the paint color in the lobby and instead they’d finally said their piece. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to being grateful for his apology. It had also been cathartic for her, in a childish way, to hear him to admit how devastated he’d been. It was nice to know she hadn’t been alone in her misery.

“Are you going to open the door or just stand there, honey?” The woman pushed her aside and did the honors. “Armand, so nice to see you.”

The man entered and embraced her mother. “Cynthia, don’t you look lovely.”

She waved him past dismissively. “Aren’t you sweet.”

Candy rolled her eyes. Oh God, Mom was flirting. She let the little tableau play while she checked out her date.

Armand Ellington was perhaps the prettiest person she had seen since she left her pageant days behind. He had a nice tan that showed off piercing blue eyes, a straight nose and full lips. His facial hair was sculpted within an inch of its life. She stared at the perfectly even lines of his Hollywood beard and wondered if he used a protractor to get the flawless look.

Her mother gestured with an elegant arm movement like she was all of a sudden Vanna White or something. “Candace, this is Armand. He breeds champion Chinese Cresteds.”

Armand extended his hand and she noticed his manicured nails. His hands were soft, and she wondered what lotion he used. She had to wash her hands nearly constantly in the clinic, and she struggled with dry, chapped skin.

“Hello.” She gave him a smile.

He smiled back, but he was assessing her at the same time. He was taller than her, which was a point in his favor considering that she was five feet ten and she’d had many dates who didn’t measure up. A tailored gray suit hung from a medium build frame. His shoes were well made and just as expensive as the suit. As well dressed as he was, it was his face that was the obvious predicator in her mother pressuring her to go out with him.

She may not have put as much time into her appearance as he had, but she looked fine. Her heels were only an inch in deference to the possibility that her date might be short. She’d chosen a simple pink A-line skirt that came to just above her knees and a fitted T-shirt. She’d blown dry her hair and tossed on some mascara and lip gloss.

It seemed like he didn’t think she’d tried very hard. She resisted another eye roll. Okay, she hadn’t tried, but then again she wasn’t really interested in this date. She’d only accepted to get Lee off her mind.

It wasn’t working.

Lee was lusty heat and passionate focus. Armand was lukewarm and indifferent.

Well, it was only dinner.

“I have reservations at the trendiest new place,” Armand told her. “Your mother said you’ve been out of town, so I thought maybe you hadn’t been there yet.”

“You’re probably right.” She slipped her arms into a white cardigan with pearl buttons. “I haven’t been out much since I’ve been home.”

Her mother nodded emphatically. “I told Armand that you’re all work and no play. You need to get out more.” She handed Candace her purse, and spoke to her date. “She’s such a pretty girl. She shouldn’t waste her good looks while she’s young.”

Candace gave her mother a quelling look that made no difference in how Armand was looking her over again.

“She is a very pretty girl.” He nodded with approval. “Your mother told me you’d won many beauty contests.”

Oh my God. Had her mother had to bribe him to take her out? This was mortifying.

“I don’t do pageants anymore. I’m a veterinarian now.” No one ever seemed to focus on the medical degree. It was always about whether they could see her trophy room, which she was horrified to find that her mother kept up. All the ribbons and obnoxious crowns and tiaras still lined her childhood bedroom. Man, she was going to have to get her own apartment very, very soon.

Once they were in Armand’s Mercedes, he tried to loosen her up. “So Candy...”

“Actually, it’s Candace. I hate the shorter version.”

“Sure. So, Candace...” He nodded in her direction. “Your mother also told me you went to school in Scotland.”

“Yes, University of Glasgow. It was a fabulous opport—”

“I went to school here. My family is a big supporter. You know the Ellington Library.” It wasn’t a question. He looked at her in the light from the dash board and nodded, indicating she guessed that it meant his people had endowed the library.

“That must be weird, going to a library with your name on it.”

“I’ve gotten used to it. When you grow up in that kind of atmosphere, you understand.”

Um, ick. Time to change the subject. “What restaurant are we going to?”

“Infinity Blue. I’ve heard good things about the place. It’s very hot. Have you heard of it?”

“Yeah! I’ve really been wanting to go there. I know the chef.” She wondered if Mark would remember her.

“Well, like I said, I made reservations. I had to throw my name around to get them.”

She couldn’t resist. “Oh, are you famous?”

He didn’t have a chance to retort before they pulled into the round drive for the valet. The place was jam packed with cars swarming the lot and the crowd spilling out into the street. How awesome that Mark’s place was doing so well. For the first time this evening, she was looking forward to her date.

“Candy?” One word in that deep voice was all it took to turn her hot and focused. Unfortunately, it wasn’t on her date.

* * *

Lee’s plan to avoid thinking about Candy flew right out the window the minute she appeared in the lobby of Infinity Blue. She strolled in with some ridiculous hipster dude who was probably prettier than half the girls Lee’d dated. She, however, looked good enough to eat.

“Hi,” she said with surprise, and glanced about her at the crowd. “Wow, this place is busy. Good for Mark.”

“You eating here tonight?” He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. What a bonehead thing to say. “Obviously.”

She smiled and turned to introduce him to the doofus, but he was having a heated discussion with the hostess. “Yeah, I’m here on a date.”

He raised a brow and nodded. A date. Like a
date
date? With that guy? He stood a little straighter in order to be taller than the other man. Lee was bigger than him. Besides, it looked like he’d whoop him in a fight because the other guy wouldn’t want to break a nail. Lee jumped when Holly touched his shoulder.

“Our table’s ready,” she said.

Before he had a chance to say goodbye to Candy, the pretty man was back and he was fuming. “Our reservation is suddenly
missing
. I can’t believe it. This doesn’t happen to me. Someone is going to hear about this, let me assure you. I’m never coming back here. Come on—” he grabbed Candace’s arm, “—let’s go.”

Lee put his hand on prissy boy’s forearm, which caused him to halt the exodus and, fortunately for everyone involved, drop Candace’s arm. “Hold on. You can join our table. There’ll be plenty of room.” He signaled the hostess and flashed a grin. “Hey, Suz, can we squeeze two more chairs at our table?” Lee didn’t usually make crazy demands of the staff at his brother’s restaurant, but there was no way in hell he was letting Candy out of his sight with that overdressed egomaniac. He led them through the crowd to their usual table—a small four-top in an out of the way corner where you could still see the musicians. Having taught the chef/owner to ride his bike when he was eight came in very handy once in a while.

Marisol arrived and a round of introductions were made. The jerk’s name was Armand, of all freaking things. What the hell kind of name was Armand? Candy was thrilled to meet Holly and the two of them hit it right off. Lee had known they would. What he didn’t expect was the underlying tension when he introduced Marisol as the owner of Jose the cat. His friend was excited to meet the doctor who’d taken such good care of her animal, but Candy immediately withdrew. He’d never seen her shrink from a conversation, but one look at Marisol and she clammed up.

During appetizers, Armand regaled Marisol and Holly with his outrage over the hostess not having his reservation. Holly apparently didn’t divulge that she was married to the owner, which was brilliant as far as Lee was concerned.

“So what do you do?” Holly asked Armand.

The man smiled, obviously happy to move the conversation to something he enjoyed discussing. Lee nearly lost consciousness as the man lectured them on some sort of pansy-ass dog.

“Are you talking about a Xoloitzcuintle?” Marisol asked, her Mexican accent rolling over a native word.

Armand gave her a condescending smile. Lee couldn’t wait until Marisol flayed him right here at the table.

Armand took a sip of his wine. “No, honey, although both breeds are very popular in Mexico. A Chinese Crested is a much more elegant dog. The Mexican Hairless is, well, not very attractive.”

Oh, here we go.
Lee drained his beer and signaled for another round. Alcohol was only going to make this little dust up more entertaining.

Marisol raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon. My
madre’s
was a very cute doggy.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure she thought so.” Armand rolled his eyes.

Holly clamped her hand on top of Marisol’s, effectively curbing an assault. Damn.

Lee wasn’t giving up so easily. “So what does a Chinese Crested look like?”

The guy pulled out his phone and pulled up about seventy-five thousand pictures of his dogs. “This beauty here is Fanciful Miss Flora and her breeding stud Waldo the Winsome Wonder.”

Lee started to laugh but shoved some bread in his mouth to smother it. The bizarre photo stream continued with commentary.

He poked Holly in the ribs. “Hey, he has a bald dog, too.” Lee waggled his eyebrows at his sister-in-law.

Candy smacked his arm. “Milo is her dog? I never said her dog was going bald.” She directed her attention to Holly. “I never told him that.”

Holly rolled her eyes and ignored Lee. “My Milo is a Yorkie.”

Armand continued gamely on, oblivious to Lee’s chortling. “I’m planning to breed the bitch again when she comes into season—”

Lee choked on his bread and everyone at the table turned their attention to him. Holly and Candy both whacked him on the back. He was never going to be mature enough to not laugh when someone referred to a dog as a bitch.

Eventually dinner arrived and while Lee managed to contain himself it seemed like Armand did his absolute best to be as pretentious as possible. He insisted on making the wine decision for the table and, since Lee didn’t know jack squat about wine, he didn’t care. He stuck with his craft beer.

Armand prattled on about bullshit no one cared about. Holly was too polite to say anything about it. Lee and Marisol exchanged amused glances, and at one point she kicked him under the table. Candy was suspiciously mum. Even if she’d wanted to contribute to the conversation, Armand never stopped talking long enough for her to interject an opinion.