Read Third Time's a Charm Online
Authors: Virginia Smith
For some reason she found it hard to meet his gaze. She stared at her fingers as she folded a napkin over and over.
“That must have been tough.”
She tilted her head in a quasi-shrug. “For a while. But after Daddy left we still had Mom and our grandparents. We survived.”
“Do you ever see him?”
“Not since I was nine.” The napkin was as small as it could go, so she reversed the process and started unfolding it. “I have no idea if he’s even still alive.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t searched for him.”
Startled, she looked up into Ryan’s face. “Why would I do that?”
His turn to shrug. “Just to know.”
She had never considered looking for Daddy. He’d disappeared, deserted them, and apparently never looked back. They were still here, still in the house Gram and Grandpa had owned when he left, at least for a little while longer. He knew how to get in touch with them if he wanted to, so his fifteen-year silence spoke volumes about the depth of his concern for his daughters. Or lack of concern. Better to let him stay in whatever cave he’d crawled into.
But what if something had happened to him? What if he was dead? She could admit to herself that the thought had occurred to her more than once. That could be the reason they’d never heard from him. In fact, death was the only acceptable excuse for his continued silence, as far as she was concerned.
Tori unfolded the final crease in the napkin, but instead of smoothing it out on the table’s surface, she wadded it into a ball in her fist. If he was dead, they would certainly have been informed by some authority or other.
“I don’t want to know,” she told Ryan. “We’re better off without him.”
He studied her for a moment, then gave a slight nod. “I understand.”
Tori raised her gaze from the napkin. A softness in his eyes drew her; she found herself leaning toward him across the table. Ryan exuded a wholesomeness that she never saw at the office. Certainly not in Mitch, whose eyes always held secrets behind a mocking gaze. There were no secrets here, only an open honesty that hinted at reserves of strength.
“Let’s don’t talk about me anymore.” She presented him with a dimple. “I want to know about you.”
He laughed, and shook his head. “There’s not much to tell. I’m—”
He didn’t get to finish. The door to the restaurant opened, and a pair of boys raced inside. Two heads, both covered with mops of dark red hair, turned their way. When the boys caught sight of them, they zipped around a row of tables in their direction.
“Uncle Ryan! We came to drink fancy coffee too.”
Tori’s jaw went slack. Ryan’s nephews? What were they doing here? She looked at him and saw that his cheeks had grown ruddy. At that moment, a pregnant woman with a thick mane of hair the same hue as the boys’ followed at a more sedate pace.
“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” She smiled apologetically at Ryan. “The boys just wouldn’t let up pestering me.”
The younger one’s eyebrows drew down over his eyes. “But Mama, you said—”
The woman stopped him with a gentle shove toward the counter. “Go on, now. See what you want. Butch, help your brother read the menu.” They raced off, and she raised her voice to follow them. “Nothing with caffeine.” She turned back toward Tori with a grin so wide she looked like she had a coat hanger lodged in her mouth. “Hi. You probably don’t know me. I used to be Loralee Planter.”
Her words were weighed down with the deep Kentucky twang that seemed to strike hit-or-miss in this part of the state.
“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” Tori took her hand. The skin felt rough, and she couldn’t help notice the nails had been bitten, but were clean.
Ryan was staring, tight-lipped, at his sister-in-law. “I didn’t know you liked The Hub.”
Loralee gave an awkward laugh and patted her bulging belly. “Oh, you know. Once I get something in my mind these days, I just can’t hardly stand it until I satisfy the craving.”
She was an attractive girl, though the flush that colored her cheeks at the moment clashed with the red hair that hung in waves past her shoulders. She stood beside the table, hands resting on her stomach and staring at Tori with an eagerness that made her shift uncomfortably in the chair. Was she on exhibit or something? Tori threw a glance toward Ryan, who looked like he might leap to his feet and escort Loralee from the restaurant.
To cover the awkward moment of silence, Tori smiled up at the girl. “Ryan was just telling me that you’re the same age as my sister Joan.”
“That’s right.” Loralee’s smile widened and she turned her body slightly away from her brother-in-law. “She might not know me, though. I went to school over in Harrodsburg. But I remember you. I carried the boys to the parade the year you were the homecoming queen. Saw you sitting up there on the back of that car, pretty as a pink petunia.”
A pink petunia? Odd description. Tori stared blankly for a moment, until she remembered. She’d worn a pink dress and jacket as she rode on the back of a convertible in that parade. “Gosh, you have a good memory.”
Loralee preened at the compliment. “Listen, why don’t you come out to the farm with Ryan sometime?” Her face flushed. “We live in a little old trailer, but we’re building a house. We can have us a lemonade while Ryan and Walt are working.”
Tori glanced toward Ryan. Yes, just like she was thinking earlier—no secrets in that face. He looked like he was ready to strangle his sister-in-law. Nothing like having your relatives show up and start issuing invitations. She smothered a grin and said to Loralee, “I was just telling Ryan I’ve never spent much time on farms.”
“Then you’ve just gotta come. I can show you around.” Loralee looked toward Ryan’s stern face and her exuberance faded. She took a backward step. “I’d better get up there and help those young ’uns find something to drink that won’t send them bouncing off the walls.”
She whirled and covered the short distance to the counter, where the boys were manhandling a display of wrapped biscotti under the glowering gaze of the barista.
Ryan leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “I never thought she’d show up here.”
Tori giggled. “It’s okay. If my sisters knew where we were, they’d probably be here too.”
An unreadable look crossed his features. He leaned forward on his elbows, his long fingers circling the mug on the table’s surface. “Actually, I think they—”
“Uncle Ryan!” A high-pitched boy’s voice interrupted whatever he’d been getting ready to say as a small body shot across the store like a bullet and skidded to a halt next to their table. “I’m getting a Wild Berry Bomb. Think they’ll set it on fire before they give it to me?”
Ryan gave Tori a horrified look that made her laugh.
“No, they won’t set it on fire,” she assured him. “It’s a smoothie.”
Ryan looked relieved. “Tori, meet Butch, my oldest nephew.”
Tori extended her hand, and the boy stared at it for a moment before giving it a solid shake. “You got pretty fingernails.”
“Thank you.”
His head tilted and looked at her. “Pretty face too.”
“Thank you again.” Tori glanced toward Ryan, whose warm eyes caught hers.
“He takes after his uncle when it comes to appreciating beauty.”
Momentarily speechless, Tori wrestled with yet another flush that threatened to creep into her face. She seemed to be doing a lot of that today. To cover the moment, she picked up her mug and brought it to her lips.
“Look what I got.” The younger boy approached at a gallop, waving a giant cookie in his brother’s direction.
Outrage stole across Butch’s features. He shouted toward his mother, who still stood at the counter, “No fair!”
“Oh, calm down,” Loralee told him as she counted out money on the counter. “I got one for you too.”
Butch reached out and gave Cody a shove. “So there.”
The little boy’s eyebrows gathered together. He planted his feet and shoved his brother back. “So there yourself.”
“Here, now. You two behave.” Ryan’s stern voice held a note of warning.
His command went unheeded as the boys continued jostling each other. These two acted just like Allie and Joan when they were little. Tori remembered standing on the sidelines and watching her sisters’ battles. She turned her head toward Ryan to tell him so.
The words never came. In the next instant, a young body knocked into her as Butch shoved his younger brother with force. Wet heat sloshed down her chest as her half-full mug was torn from her hand and emptied its contents on her blouse.
Gasping, Tori jumped out of her chair and pulled the hot, wet fabric away from her skin. Ryan, too, leaped up and took a step forward, his hands outstretched toward her. He stopped inches away from touching her chest, whirled, and scooped up the napkins on the table.
“Are you okay? Are you burned?”
For a moment Tori thought he might use the napkins to wipe off her blouse himself. She snatched them out of his hand. “I’m fine.” Her voice came out a little sharper than she intended, but
ouch!
Not blisteringly hot, but definitely hot tub hot. Flapping the fabric to cool it down, she forced a smile to her lips. “It’s not too bad. No harm done.”
Except to her brand-new pink blouse. She blotted at the dark stain. No chance at all it would come out. The wet fabric clung to her skin, her bra clearly outlined. She turned away from Ryan. Great. Just what she wanted to do, treat him to a peep show at The Hub.
“I’m so sorry.” Loralee rushed over, horror coloring her features. She turned a fierce glare on her sons and spoke through gritted teeth. “Apologize. Right. This. Minute.”
Two red heads ducked toward the floor. “Sorry,” a pair of voices mumbled.
A wave of compassion swept over Tori at the sight of their slumped shoulders. “Accidents happen. It’s okay.”
“We’ll pay for your shirt,” Loralee told her. “The boys will earn the money by doing chores on the farm.”
They slumped further, and Tori couldn’t help feeling sorry for them. She had no idea what the going rate was for farm chores, but no doubt it would take them months, if not years, to cover the cost of this blouse. She forced a smile and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Really.”
Ryan took a step toward the counter. “I’ll get you another coffee.”
“No, that’s alright.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I think I’ll just head on back to Lexington now.”
He drew a breath to protest, but then his gaze dropped to the stained blouse that she carefully held away from her skin. His mouth snapped closed.
Loralee looked stricken. “I just hate that we ruined your date. You’ll come out to the farm and let us make it up to you, won’t you?”
It’s not a date.
If it had been, this would have gone at the top of her list of Disastrous Dates of the Decade.
She mumbled something noncommittal as she edged away from Loralee and her subdued pair of roughhousers.
Ryan followed, and jumped ahead of her to open the door. “I’m really sorry.”
They stepped outside. Heat rolled off the concrete sidewalk and slapped them in the face. The wet blouse felt suddenly cool against Tori’s skin in comparison. She dug in her purse for her keys and pushed the button to unlock the door as she approached her car parked on the curb.
“It wasn’t your fault.” She managed a quick smile. “Like you said, they’re all boy.”
As she reached for the handle, he put a hand on the car door and leaned against it. “Let me make it up to you by taking you to dinner Wednesday night.”
Okay, now they were officially into date territory. Tori looked into his eyes and felt the stirring of attraction she’d felt back in the coffee shop. But the facts had not changed. They had nothing in common. He was raised on a farm, and she wouldn’t know a chicken from a rooster. She was on a fast track in a highly competitive profession, and he worked in a hardware store. Like he said, country mouse and city mouse.
She wrinkled her nose and spoke apologetically, “I told you about my new project. I’m going to be working late.”
“Well, you have to eat. If Wednesday isn’t good, we could do it another night. What about Tuesday? I have class until seven thirty, so we could do a late dinner. Say around nine?”
A prickle of interest halted Tori’s protest. “What kind of class?”
His slow grin sent a shaft of warmth through her. “I’ll tell you at dinner Tuesday night. Where do I pick you up, at work or your apartment?”
She couldn’t stop a laugh. “You don’t give up, do you?”
He leaned toward her, his gaze locked onto hers. “Like I said earlier, I’m motivated.”
A thrill shot through her at the hint of gravel in his voice. He seemed to have gotten past being tongue-tied in her presence and moved all the way into the realm of flirting. Well, she was no amateur in that field. She could totally handle herself there.
She tossed her head so her curls bounced, and flashed a sideways grin up at him. “Pick me up at my office at eight forty-five. Connolly and Farrin, downtown in the Central Bank building. Sixth floor.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His smile deepened as he opened the door for her. Tori slid behind the wheel.
“Thanks for the latte.” She glanced down at her blouse and her smile turned wry. “What I got of it.”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Looks to me like you got it all, one way or another.”
She laughed and shut the door. He stood watching as she pulled away from the curb, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. She watched him in the rearview mirror as she drove down Main Street. He didn’t move, but stared after her until she couldn’t see him anymore.
As the distance from The Hub Coffee House increased, Tori’s senses returned. What was she thinking, agreeing to go out with him? Without a doubt there was an attraction between them, but that was even more reason why she should have stuck to her guns and refused. A relationship between them had only one possible outcome. When they broke it off, as they certainly would do eventually, that would make attending church with her family even more awkward than it had become in recent months. She’d fallen prey to a handsome face and a flirty invitation, and lost her resolve.
And yet, she couldn’t deny the tickle of excitement when she thought ahead to Tuesday night. He was an extremely attractive guy, and he obviously liked her. It had been too long since she’d been on a date. As long as she kept him at arm’s length, didn’t let their relationship move beyond casual flirting, they’d be okay.