The Next Always (22 page)

“And on that note, I’m getting a soda.”

She didn’t snicker until she was out of range. She imagined her rep had just taken a huge leap.

And Laurie was right. It had been a smoking-hot kiss.

She’d like more of the same. Soon.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TAKE TWO, BECKETT THOUGHT AS HE BANGED THE
knocker on Clare’s door. This time he carried a cheerful bouquet of white daisies. No point in jinxing things by bringing her the same flowers as last week.

It struck him as a little weird, not just the deja vu, but especially the intense anticipation for the evening because of the postponement.

Just dinner, he reminded himself. He had to stop making such a big deal out of it in his head, or he’d screw up. He’d played it all over in his mind so often you’d think they were winging off to Paris to dine at . . . wherever people dined in Paris.

He’d have to ask her if she’d been there. She’d done so much more traveling than he had. Maybe she spoke French. Hadn’t she taken French in high school? He seemed to remember—

Good God, cut it out, he ordered himself.

He didn’t know whether to cheer or run when she opened the door.

She hadn’t wanted to jinx it either, he decided. She wore a different dress, this one with pink and white swirls topped with a thin pink sweater that stopped at her elbows. And made him think about kissing that spot again.

Should he have brought the pink roses? Was this a signal?

“I’m going to get spoiled.” She reached for the flowers. “I’ll start expecting flowers every Friday night.”

“Thought I’d mix it up.”

“Good plan, and thanks. Come on in. I’ll put them in water before we go.” As he did, she eyed the little shopping bag in his hand. “More?”

“Not for you.” As if to keep it out of reach, he shifted it to his other hand. “You’ve had enough. It’s a bribe so nobody pukes on me. A game for the PlayStation. I got a pretty good look at what they’ve got when I hung out with them, and I didn’t see this one. Where are they? Did you lock them in a closet?”

“No, but my parents may have by now. They’re having a sleepover at Marmie’s and Granddad’s.”

“Oh.” His mind instantly landed on all the things they could do to each other, alone in the house.

Slow down, buddy, that’s not what this is about. Slow and steady, a step at a time. He followed her into the kitchen, watched as she dealt with the flowers.

“Quiet in here,” he commented.

“I know. I can never decide if it’s spooky or bliss when they have a sleepover. I guess it’s spooky bliss.”

“You’re not afraid to stay in the house alone, are you?” He could offer to stay over, sleep in the kids’ room.

Or somewhere.

“Not as long as I don’t cave and read a horror novel. It’s a weakness, and then I sleep with the light on. I’ve never figured out how leaving the light on saves you from the vampires or ghosts or demons. There.” She stepped back to examine the flowers. “They’re so pretty. Should we go?”

“Yeah, I guess we’d better.” So he’d stop thinking of her bed upstairs, no kids in the house.

“That’s not your truck,” she said when they walked outside.

“No. Mom refused to let me take you out, at least this time, in a pickup, so she handed me the keys. Felt like high school.”

“When’s your curfew?”

“I know all the ways to sneak into the house.”

She pondered that while he slid behind the wheel. “Did you really? Sneak into the house as a kid?”

“Sure. I didn’t always get away with it, none of us did, but you had to try.” He glanced at her as he drove. “No?”

“No, I didn’t, and now I feel deprived.”

“If you want, when we get back, I’ll help you climb in through a window.”

“Tempting, but just not the same when I have the key. What did you do that you had to sneak in?”

He took a long pause. “Stuff.”

“Hmmm. Now I have to worry if one day the boys will decide to do
stuff
, then sneak into the house. But not tonight. My biggest problem with them at the moment is Murphy’s decided his life is unfulfilled unless he has a puppy, and they’ve joined forces against me.”

“You don’t like dogs?”

“I like dogs, and they should have a dog. Eventually.”

“Is that like Mom for
we’ll see
?

“It’s in the neighborhood,” she admitted. “I think about it because they ought to have a dog. They adore my parents’ pug, Lucy, and Fido the cat.”

“Your parents have a cat named Fido? Why didn’t I know that?”

“He thinks he’s a dog, so we don’t spread it around. Anyway, I think they should have one, feel guilty they don’t. Then I think, oh God, who’s going to housebreak it, train it, haul it to the vet, feed it and walk it and all the rest? I tried to talk them into a kitten, but they’re not having it. Kittens, Liam informed me, with no little disgust, are for girls. I don’t know where they get that.”

She arched her eyebrows at his profile. “You agree with him?”

“Kittens are for girls. Cats now, they can go either way.”

“You know that’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t make the rules. What kind of dog do they want?”

“They don’t know.” She sighed because the boys were wearing her down on the subject. “It’s the idea of a dog they’re in love with. I’m also told a dog would protect me from the bad guys when they’re not around.” She shrugged. “I’d go to the pound and adopt one, save a life, but how can you be sure the puppy you save won’t turn into a big, mean dog that barks at the mail carrier and terrorizes the neighbors? I need to research family-friendly breeds.”

He pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “You know Ry’s dog.”

“Everybody knows D.A.” She shifted to study his profile. “Ryder takes him everywhere. He’s a sweetheart.”

“Hell of a good dog. You know how Ry got him?”

“No, I guess I don’t.”

They got out of either side of the car, then he walked around to take her hand.

“He was a stray, six or seven months old, the vet figured. Ryder’s out at his place one night after work, putting some time into the house he built. It’s getting on dark, he’s knocking off, and this dog comes crawling in. Bone thin, his paws bleeding, shivering. It’s pretty clear he’d been out in the woods awhile. More than likely, somebody dumped him.”

Instantly her affection for D.A. doubled. “Poor thing.”

“Ryder figures he can’t just leave him there, so he’ll take him back home—he stayed with Mom a lot until he had the house closed in. So, he’d feed him, clean him up a little, give him a place to flop for the night. He’d take him to the pound in the morning.

“That was six years ago.”

Sweet, she thought—not the usual adjective applied to Ryder Montgomery. “I guess it was love at first sight.”

“I know we asked around, in case he’d run away, gotten lost. No collar, no tag, and nobody claimed him. By the morning, I can tell you, Ry would’ve been brokenhearted if someone had.”

“And yet, he named him Dumbass.”

“Affectionately, and all too often accurately. Montgomery, seven thirty reservation,” he told the hostess when they went inside.

Clare thought it over as they were escorted to the table. “You’re telling me this to illustrate pedigree doesn’t really matter.”

“People or dogs, I’d say it’s more about how you’re raised than bloodlines.”

Oddly that made her think of Sam Freemont, and just thinking about him annoyed her.

“But I get some breeds are better for kids,” Beckett added.

“It’s funny, Clint and I talked about getting a dog right after Harry was born. We thought we’d wait maybe a year, let them grow up together. Then, what do you know, Liam’s on the way, and we’re dealing with Clint’s next deployment, so it got put off.”

He started to speak, but the waiter arrived with the menus, the list of specials, offers for cocktails.

They studied the menus a moment in silence.

“Does it bother you when I talk about Clint?”

“No. It’s just I never know what to say. He was a good guy.”

“He was.” She made a decision. Lay it out, say what should be said. Nothing would be real between them unless she did.

“It was love at first sight,” she said. “He always said it was the same for him. Just instant, just . . . there you are, now let’s start planning the rest of our lives together. Heady stuff for a girl of fifteen.”

“Heady at any age, but yeah, especially.”

“I never had a single doubt. Never worried, never wondered. We argued sometimes, had more than a few scenes of high drama. But still, I never worried. My parents did; I certainly understand that better now than then. But he was a good guy, and they saw that. They loved him, too.”

“You were like the golden couple in high school. C and C. The cheerleader and the football star.”

“Heady stuff,” she repeated. “We were together two years before . . . we were together. Again, I was sure. I never worried. When he left for basic, I cried all night. Not because I was worried, but because I missed him like a limb.”

The waiter came back, took their orders.

“You were so young,” Beckett prompted.

“And bold. Fearless. I married him, went off with him, left my home, my family and friends without a single twinge of doubt or regret.” She laughed. “Who was that girl?”

“I’ve always thought of you as pretty fearless.”

“Well, I learned about fear when Harry came along. What’s this little person? What if I make a mistake? What if he gets sick, gets hurt? But even then, I didn’t doubt we’d manage it all.”

She picked up her water glass, smiled as she sipped. “We wanted four, with an option for five. Crazy. A potential of
five
children. I imagine we’d have done that if he’d lived.”

“You were happy.”

“Oh yes. And sometimes brutally lonely, overwhelmed. That’s when fear would sneak in. But I was too busy for that, I told myself. I was proud of him. I hated being without him, hated knowing what he faced every day, every night. But he was made to be a soldier, like his father, like his brother. I knew it when I married him.”

The waiter brought the wine, and after the ritual, Clare sipped. “It’s good. Even better when it signals someone’s going to bring me food I didn’t have to cook.”

“You have more. You should finish.”

“Yes, I should finish.” And be grateful he was willing to let her.

“Harry was playing, and Liam was crying in his crib. I had morning sickness, so I had to let him cry until I’d finished. I knew I was pregnant. I hadn’t taken the test yet, but I knew.”

She paused for a moment, just a moment. “He’d only been back in Iraq three weeks. I never got to tell him we were having another child. It’s my biggest regret. I never got the chance to tell him. He never got to see Murphy, touch his face, smell his hair, hear his laugh. Murphy never had him. Liam doesn’t remember his father. Harry, at best, has some dim memories. Clint was a good father. Loving, fun, attentive. But they didn’t have time.”

“You never have enough.”

Understanding, she nodded, put a hand over his. He’d lost his father, too. “No, I don’t guess you do.

“They came to the door that morning. You know when you see them. The officer, the chaplain. You know without a word being said. The lights dim; the air goes out. For a little while there’s nothing at all.”

Beckett squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Clare.”

“I was holding Liam. I’d forgotten I’d picked him up when the knock came. He’s crying—teething and fussy, a little feverish with it. Harry’s hugging my leg. He must have sensed something because he started crying, too. And the baby’s inside me. Clint’s gone.

“The other wives came, to help, to comfort. I broke, a million pieces. There was fear and doubt and worry, and such horrible, horrible grief. I didn’t think I’d live through it.”

He thought of her, alone, two babies, newly pregnant, and widowed.

“Who could? How did you?”

“All I knew was I needed to come home. They needed to come home. It was the only clear answer for all of us, and it was the right one. I can think about Clint here, how much I loved him, and I’ve been able to accept that we had what we were meant to have. No more, no less. Now I have something else. I can think about him, talk about him. I have to, the boys deserve that. Just as they, and I, deserve the life we’ve made now.”

“I don’t know if it helps, but I know when we lost Dad, we were all just numb, I guess. Just taking a step at a time dealing with all the horrible, practical things you have to deal with. Eventually you find yourself in another place. Some of it’s familiar, some of it’s not. You make something else out of it, and you know you couldn’t have without the person you lost.”

“Yes.” Now she could be grateful he understood. “When you think of your dad, or talk about him, it reminds you of that. It’s the same for me. You knew Clint. We have a history that includes him, so since we’re seeing each other I don’t want you to feel awkward or uncomfortable.”