Last One Home (32 page)

“Using Amiee?” he shot back. “I wouldn’t ever …”

It had been a mistake to bring this up now. “Not intentionally you wouldn’t,” she agreed. “Let’s not get into this now.”

Silence followed. “You sure you want to wait to finish this conversation?” he asked.

“Yes. Let me clear my head first.”

He hesitated for an uncomfortable moment and then asked, “The night of the Hoedown was a fluke, wasn’t it?”

“No,” she cried. “It wasn’t. That was the most romantic night of my life. It would be so easy to fall in love with you based entirely on the way I felt with your arms around me on the dance floor. I’ll never forget that closeness, the connection. It seemed like … I don’t even know that I can find a way to tell you everything I felt that night.”

“Cherished,” he suggested.

“Yes.” That was the perfect word to describe it.

“Seriously, Cassie, I don’t see a problem,” he said, sounding all the more confused. “If you feel the same way about me as I do you, then why all this angst? You want to go slow, that’s fine by me. I have my own issues to deal with, but we both know where
we’re headed, right?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “There’s no need to rush into anything. I’m with you,” he said.

Cassie let his words soak in before she responded. While he claimed to be on the same page, she still wasn’t convinced that he was.

“The problem, in a nutshell,” she said, gripping hold of the phone so tightly that her fingers ached, “is that I’m not emotionally ready for this. You have to understand I’m carrying a full set of baggage. It’s only been in the last three or four months that I’ve been able to get my life together. I’m not looking for a hero to ride in on a white steed and rescue me—not when, for the first time in my life, I’ve succeeded in getting things on track.”

“Okay, point taken.”

“Although you claim to understand my concern and you’re content to take matters one day at a time, I feel … like … like you’re pressuring me.”

“That was never my intention,” he returned.

“I know. I think you’re a good man, Steve.”

“You think …”

“Yes, you have to admit that my judgment about men to this point hasn’t exactly been stellar …”

“So now you’re comparing me with Duke?” He sounded angry.

She returned fire just as quickly. “Unfortunately, Duke’s the only comparison I have. He was loving and romantic, too … in the beginning.”

“I don’t believe this,” he muttered, sounding disgusted.

“It was a bad idea to discuss all this now. It’ll be much better when we can talk face-to-face. We’ll clear the air Saturday night,” she promised.

Steve ended the conversation shortly afterward and that was
probably for the best. It didn’t come as any surprise that he didn’t call her again that week.

Saturday morning, Cassie woke with a mixed bag of feelings. She was dreading the date and at the same time was eager to see Steve again. She really wanted to be with him, but she felt anxious about making a mistake.

That morning she was able to work three hours of equity time at the construction site before she arrived at Goldie Locks for her beauty treatments. Rosie had an entire crew assembled. Cassie reluctantly submitted to their fussing.

At one point she had three people working on her at the same time. They circled her, one with a comb and a hairspray can, another with fingernail polish; the third was busy painting her toenails. It was utterly ridiculous. Forcing down the urge to demand that her friends stop, Cassie smiled and did what she could to look excited and happy.

“Steve is smoking hot,” Rosie said. She mimed jerking her hand up, making a hissing sound as if she’d bounced cold water against a red-hot griddle. “You’re going to have a good time tonight.”

Cassie forced a smile.

“My guess is that man’s got a fat diamond ring burning a hole in his pocket.”

“No, no, I’m sure that’s not the case,” Cassie insisted, fighting a rising sense of panic.

Teresa agreed with her cousin. “If not tonight, then soon. He’s not the kind of man to dally with a woman’s feelings. He’s solid, you know.”

“You hold on to that man,” Bridget advised. “You know what they say about a man with a truck like his. Big truck, big—”

“Bridget!” Teresa broke in. “We get the point.”

“Yes, but does Cassie?” Bridget asked, speculative, cocking one finely shaped eyebrow.

Cassie didn’t answer one way or the other. Her mind continued to whirl at a frantic pace. By submitting to all this fuss and bother, she was suddenly wary. By allowing her friends to make such a big deal out of this date she might be undermining her credibility on everything she’d claimed earlier. Her head started to pound, and the urge to leap out of the chair and escape was nearly overwhelming.

“She gets it,” Rosie insisted.

Bridget stared at Cassie with such intensity that Cassie became unnerved. Her friend frowned and lifted Cassie’s bangs from her forehead. “What?” Cassie demanded.

“Your eyebrows,” Bridget muttered disparagingly.

“What about them?” Cassie was in no mood for a tweezers attack.

“When was the last time you had them shaped?”

Cassie frowned. “I have no idea.” Right away she recognized that was the wrong answer.

Bridget took immediate control. “It’s time, girlfriend. In fact, it is long past due.”

Before Cassie could protest, the back of her chair was lowered and strips of hot wax were pressed against her eyebrows. She yelped when Bridget ripped off the tape. Then, with tweezers in hand, plucking away, Bridget chastised her for letting herself go so long.

By the time her friends were finished with her, Cassie had been prodded, pinched, plucked, and polished. She was exhausted and frankly not in the best of moods. At this point all she could think about was the burning need to escape.

“You’re beautiful,” Teresa said, stepping back to judge their work. She had her index finger tucked under Cassie’s chin as she examined her face and her hair.

“If he proposes tonight, we want full credit,” Rosie said, beaming with pride. “Steve’s going to take one look at you and swoon. You’ll have him eating out of your hand in no time. Don’t you take second best, either, understand?”

Cassie blinked with eyelashes thick enough to swat flies. “Second best?”

“Don’t you dare move in with him without something sparkling on your finger. Call me old-fashioned if you want, but we didn’t go through all this trouble for nothing.” Rosie stood with her hands folded as if she were about to take out her rosary and pray.

“You don’t need to worry,” Cassie assured her.

Rosie looked more than pleased. “That’s what I thought. Now go out there and bring that man to his bended knee.”

“He’s going to be salivating for sure,” Teresa commented.

This was ridiculous, Cassie thought, yet again.

Once back at her apartment, Cassie set her purse aside and sank into the nearest chair. Her friends meant well. This was her own fault for not having the heart to disappoint them. It was a good thing Amiee was out, because Cassie felt close to losing control. She had the urge to cry, but knew what tears would do to her mascara. If that wasn’t bad enough, the headache that had been threatening now arrived with reinforcements. Her temples throbbed.

The doorbell rang and Cassie stared at it for a full thirty seconds before she found the courage to answer it.

Steve stood on the other side of the screen, dressed in a suit, looking more handsome than she could ever remember seeing him. His hair was combed back and he was clean-shaven, exposing a dimple in his chin—one she’d never noticed before. His eyes
widened with appreciation when he saw her. He held a clear plastic flower box in his hand. Inside was a pink rosebud corsage with a silver bow. He cleared his throat and released a low whistle. “Wow.”

“Don’t,” she demanded.

“Don’t?”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“That was a compliment,” he said, and then added, “Are you going to let me in or not?”

Cassie felt tears gather at the corner of her eyes. “I can’t.”

“Let me in?” he asked, clearly confused.

“Do this,” she said, as if the answer should have been obvious.

“Do what?”

Cassie didn’t understand why he was being so dense. “I can’t go to dinner with you. This is wrong. This isn’t me and you might think … I’m sorry, Steve.”

He ran a hand distractedly through his neatly combed hair, ruffling it in a way that made him all the more striking and attractive. Another woman would have tossed open the door, grabbed him by his tie, and jerked him inside so fast it would have half strangled him.

He frowned. “I thought you wanted to talk?”

“I did … I do, but not now.”

His look darkened. “Are you saying you don’t want to go to dinner with me?”

She nodded, nearly choking on the knot in her throat. “Another time, please.”

“Tomorrow?”

Even that sounded far too soon. She shook her head.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked. “This isn’t like you, Cassie.”

She was all too aware of how weak and out of control she sounded. She couldn’t imagine what he must be thinking. “Please, just go.”

He backed away a couple of steps. “If that’s what you want.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Quit saying that.”

“Sorry.” She wrapped her fingers around the side of the door and slowly closed it.

“Call me when you’re ready to talk, okay?”

She nodded and shut the door. As it clicked into place, she had the strongest notion that she was closing the door on far more than one night.

Cassie wasn’t sure what to tell her friends after the fact, especially since they’d all put such effort into the beautification project.

When she arrived at the salon Monday morning, she expected to be bombarded with questions. Teresa, Rosie, and Bridget were sure to want a minute-by-minute description of her romantic date with Steve.

Sure enough, as soon as she arrived, her friends fell in behind Cassie like she was the Pied Piper.

“Well,” Bridget demanded. “Don’t keep us in suspense. How did your hot date go?”

“Was I right?” Rosie asked. “Did he have a diamond ring in his pocket?”

Cassie never was sure where Rosie got that idea, unless it came from Amiee.

“Um …” She did her best to avoid eye contact, then squared her shoulders, ready to face their disappointment.

Teresa threw out her arms, warning off the others. “Give the girl some breathing room, you two. Okay, Cassie, what happened?”

“We didn’t go.”

All three of her friends gasped.

“He canceled?” Rosie asked, after a moment of shocked silence.

“No, I did.”

“You did?” all three cried in unison.

“It’s a long story, and if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss it.”

Bridget wasn’t going to let this matter drop easily. “What did he do?”

“Bridget,” Teresa whispered, steering the hairstylist away from Cassie. “Leave it be. Cassie will tell us when she’s good and ready.”

Cassie thanked her friend with a look and a gentle sigh. The problem was explaining to her coworkers what she had yet to fully understand herself. She wasn’t shy, nor was she inclined to emotionally crumble at the least provocation. Since leaving Duke she had overcome every obstacle, tackling it all head-on. In a matter of a few years she’d forged a new life for herself and her daughter. She’d learned a trade, helped build houses, reached out to family, and she’d done all this without thinking twice. But when it came to falling in love she was a quivering mess, second-guessing herself, second-guessing Steve. Uncertain. Afraid. Lost.

Cassie made it through the rest of the workday, doing her best to keep her spirits up and her customers happy.

She wasn’t needed at the construction site because at this stage a skilled craftsman was installing the electrical system. So for a change, she could go straight home from work.

“Mom.” Amiee glanced up when Cassie walked in the door. Her daughter sat in front of the television with her legs braced against the edge of the cushion, knees tucked under her chin, eating a bowl of breakfast cereal. “You’re home early.”

Cassie set aside her things and walked over to her daughter, hugging her close from behind.

“Mom?” Amiee set aside the bowl, unwound her legs, and stood. It was the same owl look her coworkers had given her.

Cassie hadn’t told Amiee anything more than what she’d told the girls at Goldie Locks.

“Are you ready to tell me why you didn’t go to dinner with Steve?”

“Not yet.”

For once in her life Amiee looked like she was at a loss for words. “Did you have a bad day … like yesterday?”

“Something like that.”

“Steve called. He said he tried to reach you but you didn’t pick up.”

“I was at work. It isn’t like I can chat when I’m doing someone’s color treatment.” To be fair, Steve had tried to contact her when she normally took her lunch break, but Cassie hadn’t been ready to talk to him, and frankly she would rather not have that conversation in front of her coworkers.

“Are you going to call him back?”