Daughters Of The Bride(19)

“Okay. Interesting. Why?”

She raised a shoulder. “It’s a long story.”

“Right. And you’re not one to overshare.” He stood. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.”

He studied her for a second. She had no idea what he was thinking but figured that was probably for the best.

“Good night, Courtney.”

“’Night, Quinn.”

He put his bowl in the dishwasher, then walked out of the kitchen. She watched him go, allowing herself the pleasure of admiring his butt and the way he moved. The man had grace and style. He was sophisticated and unexpectedly nice. If she were someone other than herself, she would so want to start something with him. But she wasn’t. Besides, she was focused on school and working and getting through her last year of college. Then she would land her dream job and find someone to date. A smart, kind man who thought she was exactly what he was looking for. Assuming that man existed.

She put her bowl next to Quinn’s before hunting down the cookies and grabbing a handful. As she walked back to her room, she imagined what would have happened if Quinn had reached across the table and pulled her close. No doubt she would have dropped her spoon and spilled all over him. Or burped during their kiss. Because that was how her life went. Even in her dreams.





5

RACHEL WAS CONFIDENT that laundry multiplied in the night. What had been a single load a couple of days ago was now four. Five if she did Josh’s sheets. He would tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she thought differently.

She glanced at the clock and held in a groan. It was five on Sunday afternoon. She’d worked late the previous day with the idea that on a weekend when Josh was with his dad, she could earn a little extra money. Which was great, but by the end of her workweek, she was always exhausted. That had turned into sleeping late, which she probably needed, but it didn’t get any of her chores done.

She’d done grocery shopping, paid some bills and spent the past two hours weeding in the yard. In between, she’d baked cookies, put a stew in the Crock-Pot and made her son’s lunch for the following day. Now she faced laundry and cleaning the kitchen. Once Josh got home—which should be any second now—they would go over his homework, assuming his father had remembered to make him do it, review his schedule for the week and then watch a show for an hour before bed. And starting tomorrow, she would do it all over again.

She put the whites in the washer, added detergent and bleach, then hit the start button. She already had the baseball uniforms in the sink in the laundry room. Between the grass stains and the ground-in dirt, those had to be pretreated or they would never get clean. Honestly, she didn’t know how professional sports organizations kept their uniforms so nice. Maybe they didn’t bother. Maybe every player wore new ones for each game.

She heard footsteps in the front of the house followed by a familiar “Mom! I’m home!”

There were a million things to do and she was still tired and maybe a little cranky, but none of that mattered. Josh’s voice was the best sound in the world, and knowing he was back made everything a little easier.

She walked toward the living room and smiled when she saw her son.

He was tall for his age. All gangling with too-long arms and legs. At eleven, he was on the verge of adolescence. His voice hadn’t changed yet and he’d yet to get a single chin hair, but she knew that was coming.

He’d inherited his father’s dark hair and eyes, but her smile. He was a good kid. Smart, caring, generous. Easygoing. Now he dropped his duffel on the floor and hurried to greet her.

“Dad bought me a new glove,” he said, holding it out in one hand while he reached for her with the other. He gave her a quick hug, then he stepped back and offered the glove.

“It’s exactly what I wanted. Dad and I played catch yesterday, to break it in, then he hit balls and I caught them. Try it on.”

She slid her hand into the glove and was surprised when it wasn’t too small for her.

“Is this an adult size?” she asked.

Josh grinned. His too-long hair fell into his eyes and he swept it back with a gesture that reminded her too much of his father. “Uh-huh. The guy at the store said I was in between, so we decided it made sense to get the bigger one.”

She held up her right hand and he held up his left. They both spread their fingers. Rachel was stunned to discover her eleven-year-old son’s hand was nearly as big as hers.

“When did that happen?” she asked.

Josh laughed. “I’m going to be as tall as you soon, Mom. Then taller.”

“I can’t decide if that’s good or bad,” she admitted.