Falling For Sarah (Sarah Series Book 3) Page 4

  He rolled his eyes and pulled at his belt, clearly in the hot seat now. Not that I cared who he was dating. Okay, so a little. But it wouldn’t be such a big deal if we hadn’t crossed the line. I knew what would happen if we did, and it did. After it was over, all three days of it, I was left…Rose was left…and now Carter and I avoided each other. Rose didn’t deserve this. She missed her tickle monster and his occasional drop-ins. So did I, unfortunately. I’m not sure we could ever be friends the way we used to be. Too many stupid memories of touching and hair stroking, and…

  “That’s for me to know, and you to keep trying to figure out, my dear Liz.” He bopped her nose and left the room.

  So he wanted to remain secretive, did he? Fine.

  “Rose, take that and set it next to the fridge. I’ll go and get the rest.”

  I stopped at the store on my way home from getting Rose from Aunt Heidi’s. I was going back out for the other bags. What I wouldn’t give for one of those garages like Alex had. I was balancing my bags and purse when I heard someone call my name. “Sarah.”

  I turned around. Speaking of garage owner now. “Hi.”

  He walked toward me and grabbed the bag that was cutting off the circulation to my left hand. “Need a hand?”

  “Sure, thanks.” I looked at him briefly. I didn’t want him to feel I was checking him out. Nice trouser pants, pinstriped shirt, two buttons left undone… “You’re home early.”

  “Actually, this is the time I usually get home. Part of the deal for me taking the job was that I worked four to four.”

  “Four in the morning?”

  “Yeah, that way I can be home for June in the evening.”

  What a great dad. And where was his wife, again? Somewhere not cooking, but stocking refrigerators.

  “Anyway, I’m over there planning my meal, because as you know, I don’t like to carry out from the city every day. It gets cold, and the food becomes stringy and stretchy.” He pulled open the side door of my house for me. “And then after I ate your food last night.” He rolled his eyes in a sort of satisfying way. “Well, it made me want to cook again. And so I am. Cooking, that is. And I was wondering…”

  Rose walked into the kitchen, dropped her backpack and stared at us. Alex was holding our grocery bags, standing in our kitchen, and going on and on to me. I realized Rose was asleep when he made his appearance in my house last night, and didn’t know who he was.

  “Rose, this is Alex. He’s June’s father. You remember June?” Of course she did. She asked all the way home where she was, and why I wasn’t taking her home, and if she was going to come over again. Poor baby girl was so tired of not having someone in the house other than me.

  “Yeah.” Her mouth still hung open.

  Yes, Rose. It is a man. Hard to believe he’s in our house. Carter hadn’t been over in months, and Michael even before that.

  Alex set down the bag on the counter and walked over to Rose. She was still big-eyed and speechless. “It’s nice to meet you, Rose. You’re just as lovely as your mother.”

  Rose gave up her hand to his. He gently kissed it. She swooned.

  Don’t I know the feeling.

  “I was just asking your mother if I could repay her kindness of feeding a very hungry couple of people last evening, and invite you two to my house for dinner.”

  “Is June there?”

  She’s such a cheap date—just throw her a teenager to politely annoy and she’s in!

  “Why, yes, she is. She’s in her room, doing who knows what.” He flailed his hands.

  “Could I see her room?”

  He stole a look at me. “I think that can be arranged.”

  “Can we go, Mommy? Can we?” Rose danced around.

  “We just bought all these groceries, and I don’t want to impose.”

  “Impose? I asked you. This is me. In your home. Asking you. Of course it’s no imposition. Wait a couple minutes, when you’re tired of hearing my voice, talking about everything and anything. Because I live with a teenager who doesn’t respond to a word I say. Then you’ll know I was imposing by asking you over.”

  Tired of listening to him? And then there’s the time coming when chocolate would be hated by all women who were going through heartbreaks and cycles. Yeah, I don’t think so.

  “Well, okay,” I said, slowly. Kind of like it was a really difficult decision to make. “Just let me put my groceries away. We’ll be right over.”

  A huge smile crept to his lips and he clapped his hands. “Great. Let me go so I can get started. It’s a simple dish, so I promise it won’t take long. You can come early for wine if you wish.”

  Wine? Someone cooking? Let it be known that Sarah Keller loves both of these to the depths of her core. “Sounds great. We’ll be right over.”

  I began throwing everything in the fridge that wouldn’t make it till I got back home. Everything else stayed in the plastic bag I’d just schlepped from my car. Rose had gone to her room and was doing who knows what to prepare for this momentous occasion. I raced to my room and shimmied off my dress pants and blouse. I flung open my closet and began rummaging for casual. But not too casual. Provocative but not too “help me, I’m single and I hate it.” He was good-looking, after all. He cooked, he had a steady job, a garage, and not to mention ethnicity and that manly way of coming over and appearing all single. But he wasn’t. Was he? Where in the heck was his wife? Maybe I’d better go with jeans and a neutral shirt. Save provocative and hating single status until I knew his 4-1-1.

  “Mommy, what are you doing?” Rose stood in my doorway, a puzzled look on her little pouting face.

  “I’m changing, Rose.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to be in those school clothes. They were itchy.” She’d get the idea. She used it all the time on me about things she wanted out of and quick.

  “Oh. Well, I’m taking some of my favorite Barbies for June to see. She said she liked the brown-haired ones, but all the ones I have are blonde.”

  “Rose, you do realize June’s sixteen years old. Barbies are something she’s probably moved past. She’s into driving and boys.”

  “So are my Barbies, Mommy.”

  “Okay, Rose. You win. Bring them along. Just don’t get disappointed should she not want to play.”

  Rose clutched her little bag and smiled.

  I checked myself out in the mirror before I shut off the light. I fluffed my hair and pinched my cheeks a bit. My heart raced with the thought of eating dinner with a guy. Even if there were questions lingering about a Mrs. Enrique Iglesias.

  We arrived at the back door. I noticed his hot tub wasn’t running. I tried not looking in as I knocked.

  Alex appeared and opened the door.

  The smell inside seduced me. “Wow, something smells amazing.”

  He smiled. “Have a seat. I’ll pour you a glass of white. It’s sweet.”

  “I like sweet.”

  Rose looked around at the unfamiliar house.

  “Sweetie, June will probably be down in a little bit.”

  “You can go find her. Her room is the first one on the right, darling.” He pointed toward the stairs.

  Darling? I think the hair on my arm just rose. Rose smiled and went in the direction of the stairway. June had no idea what was coming to her. Poor teenage, only-child, girl.

  I looked around at his kitchen. Nothing major to note. There were renovations done over the summer. I guessed he contracted a builder, a designer, and a move-in crew by all the trucks and cars that were there over the months. The designer appeared to have done a good job. Light-gray to white tones on his backsplash, off-white countertops, and farmhouse-blue on the painted cabinets. Not too contemporary, not too traditional. He had a coffee pot, a spoon rest, and bread with cereal out on the counter. The skillet was sizzling, and water was boiling on the stove. It smelled like onion slivers floating in light olive oil.

  “It passes the smell test.” I took my glass and flashe
d him a smile.

  “I hope it passes the taste test.” He walked back to the stove, tossed a towel on his shoulder and flicked a wooden spoon in the pan while spying on his boiling water. Steam rose to his face.

  “I hope June isn’t annoyed with Rose. I was an only child, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have liked my space to be invaded by a pip-squeak, no matter how stinking cute she is.”

  “June’s easygoing. She might not look it.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t get me started how many times I’ve told her to scrub off that black war paint she keeps on her eyes. You know they used to be blue, right? Her grandmother would take two seconds before she splashed holy water on her and spit cleaned her mascara off.”

  “Oh, really?” I took a sip of my wine. “I like those types of grandmothers.”

  “Yeah? What’s yours like? Let me guess—is she telling you how you need meat on your bones, and slipping you a few dollars for gas money? I swear, my grandmother is always telling me I’m underweight, and if I should be called to war, they’d skin me alive.”

  “Wow, no, I can’t say I get that. What kind of war does she think you’ll be going to?”

  “Who knows? I think dementia is setting in. She calls me by my father’s name a few times each time I go see her.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “To be called my father?”

  “No, just to have family. I’m imagining the whole scene—the Thanksgiving around the table, the Christmas around a large tree, you name it. I used to watch all the shows with the big families and just wish I had one.”

  “You don’t?”

  “My dad aged out of the foster care system, and my mother died when I was born. Her family disowned her for marrying my dad. So I have no crazy grandmas, no doting mothers, and no more dads. He died almost two years ago.” I sighed and took another drink. I missed that man every day of my life. His number was still on the speed dial of my phone.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my family.” He checked the oven and turned a dial on the stove. “Is it too soon to ask about…” He waved a spoon. “About…”

  “Rose’s dad?” I took a stab. He was the only one I’d failed to mention their whereabouts.

  “It is. It’s too soon.” He pulled a dish from the oven and set it down on a trivet. “I’m one of those people I swore to my wife I’d never become. A meddler. I am becoming my grandmother!”

  “I don’t consider it meddling if you’re asking out of getting to know me. If you were a gossiping PTA mother who wanted to spread rumors, I’d think you were meddling.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. I really do just want to know you better.”

  “Okay, so I’ll tell you about Rose’s dad and you can fill me in on June’s mom.” Easy peasy. And all in the guise of I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.

  He shrugged. “Sounds good.”

  “Okay, well, Sam is her father. He lives in South Carolina. I was unaware of his previous relationship with a friend of mine when we married. She sort of showed up on the scene after our honeymoon, extremely bitter and demanding he divorce me. Seems his daughter, whom I thought was his niece, was really hers. And we’ve since worked out visitation for Rose with him.”

  Alex sort of had a problem with his jaw. It appeared to be locked open. “You’re serious? This woman shows up…a friend of yours? And you had no idea? And his niece was by her? This sounds like one of those television reality shows. Did you torch the house before pulling out?”

  “Nope. I kept the house from burning.”

  “That’s it? You seem so okay with it. Did you at least maim him? Sell the story to Jerry Springer? There’s got to be more.”

  “Trust me, you’re seeing me post break-up. I was a mess for some time afterward. And there’s just a drop more to the saga. But nothing I care to divulge before dinner. It’s something that you divulge after about ten meals and maybe a shopping mall trip. Where there’s new pumps involved, or in our case maybe another dinner with wine like this.” I took another sip.

  “A bribe, huh?”

  “No, it’s just that’s what girls do. Once you’ve shopped together over shoes and shared many meals, you drop the scoop on your horrid before life.”

  “Horrid? Hmm… Well, we’ll wait for mine until after dinner then. It goes just beyond what it would take for my Paella to catch a chill.”

  “Paella? I think I’m in love.” I caught myself swaying with half-shut eyes. Suddenly I sat straight, not wanting to seem so easy for a good meal. “I mean, I love that dish. I’ve only had it once or twice, but the memories are vivid. Was there wine involved?”

  “Imported.” He smiled and pulled out dishes from a cabinet.

  I called the girls for dinner and we enjoyed it to the last bite. Rose even rubbed her tummy while eating it. What can I say? I’ve raised that girl to recognize good cuisine. I hoped the guy who ended up with her had both a champagne budget and appetite. Otherwise, she would have to keep looking. Hot dogs and sandwich meat would not settle her stomach. Especially if the bread still had the crust on it when it hit the plate.

  “June, can I come and watch you draw a little more? Maybe you can draw me another horse.” Rose perked up and was ready to go another round with her newfound friend after setting down her empty juice glass. Alex only had orange juice. Rose was tickled, thinking how this was more like breakfast than dinner.

  I stacked the dishes and watched the girls carry on with each other. It was nice.

  “I don’t know really how to draw horses. That one I drew looked like something off of Lord of the Rings.”

  “I loved it. Draw me another one. Please?” She gave those doe eyes and clasped her hands tight to her chest. Even June was no match for Rose’s pleas.

  They walked off upstairs and Alex came from the other room, checking his phone.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just checking in. I have a patient who I’m waiting on blood work.”

  “I’ll do the dishes.”

  “Leave them. I can do them later. Let’s go out and enjoy the evening.”

  “But, I hate to do dishes after the food—”

  He took my hand and put down the dish. “I’ve got this. Now come outside. I’ve got a story to pay you back.”

  He grabbed a hoodie from the back of the sofa and handed it to me. “I’m not affected by the cooler temperature, but you might be.”

  “I can just go home and grab—”

  He pushed it to my arm. “It’s not dirty, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just wear it.”

  I pulled it over my head and drank in the smell—woodsy, with a hint of a man. We walked out and sat on his back patio. The stars were bright, twinkling in the clear sky. Glad it was warmer earlier and I didn’t wear my jacket over to his place.

  “It’s beautiful.” I took a seat on the swing in his backyard.

  He sat down next to me. “I’d say. The closest I came to seeing stars in New York was when I was knocked out by a deranged man on the sidewalk, walking home. He’d been drinking and thought he was back in Nam.”

  “Wow, that’s terrible. I assume you were okay. I mean, you’re here now.”

  “Yeah. I have a hard head.” He patted the back of his hair and grinned.

  “I don’t think I’d like living in a city that large. I’d thought about moving to Denver once, but I don’t want to give up Josh’s country store, or Lola’s Bakery. Everyone knows everyone.” I leaned over toward him, sort of making a physical side note to that comment. “Which can be a blessing or a curse, mind you. But I want Rose to feel secure and know there are so many people who care about her well-being. Anyway, I’d miss this amazing view of the sky. It’s not the same in a city.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess when they know you it’s different. They still look at me pretty strange here.”

  “I’ll have to take you around and introduce you.”

  “I’d like that.”
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  I took a deep breath and snuggled into his hoodie. The air was crisp and it was just the right amount of quiet outside. On second thought, maybe it was too quiet.

  “So…”

  “So I owe you a story.”

  “Not if you don’t want. It’s fine.”

  “I don’t mind. As long as you’re not that PTA gossiping type.” He grinned.

  “I promise, I’m not. Not yet. I go to my first meeting at the elementary school in two weeks. And I really doubt they’d care there. We’re safe for now.”

  He stretched back and drew a large amount of air into his lungs. “Her name is Sasha. I met her when I was interning at Mt. Sinai. She was performing in a play I went to see with some friends. One of the guys I was with knew her friend, we went backstage, and the rest is history.”

  “Okay.” I crooked my neck. Not the full story, I see.

  “Well, I guess there is more. There was the part where I thought she’d want to move back with me to Miami after I finished my internship. And when that didn’t happen, I thought we’d stay until she got her big part. And when that didn’t happen, I thought she’d move with us here to Colorado.”

  “I’m guessing none of that happened. I don’t remember seeing cute little kitchen towels or a plaque saying ‘Sasha’s Kitchen’ on the wall.”

  “Nor would you if she were even here. She hates cooking, remember?”

  “Ah, I think I remember you mentioning that.” I crossed my legs. “So is she still in New York, waiting for that big break?”

  “No. Actually she’s in California. She’s working on a show that she seems to think has promise for getting picked up by a major network.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  His brow folded. “For her, yes. For me and June, it’s a bit depressing.”

  Okay, so he’s depressed she’s not here. I get it. I get that feeling about Sam. Especially thinking back about him this past summer—the roses, the proposal, and then the bombshell of Rose. How many times I haven’t gone over that and rewinded it to have different results?