Matching Mr. Right(6)
What the heck was Nick up to? He didn’t need her. He could have any woman he wanted.
A southwestern grilled-chicken salad suddenly appeared before her along with a frosty glass of her favorite strawberry iced tea.
Nick sat across from her and unloaded his lunch tray. He not only got the pulled pork sandwich and a pile of fat steak-cut fries, but chocolate-mousse pie and an éclair. How could he eat like that and still have all those bulging muscles instead of a pot-belly?
Stop thinking about those pictures!
“Thanks.” Digging her wallet from her purse she pulled out a ten wondering how he’d just happened to pick her favorite salad. “Lucky guess or are you a creepy stalker?”
He waved her money away. “Since you appear to office here, I asked the lady at the counter if she knew what you liked best. She told me she’d take care of it. After paying your full fee last night, I might have taken your money, but I was afraid she’d tell you and then you’d think I was a jerk.”
Too late—she knew he was a jerk. But a paying-client jerk, so she kept her yap shut.
“Smart move. Jo and I have each other’s backs.”
He nodded as he swiped a fat fry through a puddle of ketchup. “She mentioned you two go way back?”
“Yup. We were neighbors growing up and then went to the same college.”
“Have you found her a soul mate yet?”
“Maybe it’s me.” Shelby batted her eyes at him.
Nick sputtered into his Coke but quickly recovered. “Nope. You’re definitely into men.” He took another drink then laid his glass down, studying her intently. “So, have you found Jo the man of her dreams?”
She took a bite of her salad, making him wait for her response. “She’s not in the market at the moment. She’s concentrating on this café.”
Why were they sharing small talk? The man deserved payback for nearly giving her a heart attack. She shouldn’t do it, but like her favorite mischievous monkey, Chester, she couldn’t help herself. “But Jo often peruses magazine articles about relationships and dating. Just last night, she mentioned she’d read a survey of men who claimed brunettes were better in bed than blondes.” She smiled sweetly as she took a slug of iced tea. “Any thoughts on that, Mr. Caldwell?”
His brows furrowed as he contemplated his answer. “Those quizzes are bogus, but because you’re a blonde and my momma drowned all the dumb kids in our family, no comment.”
She laughed despite herself. “How many of those kids survived?”
“I have two older sisters. You?”
“I had a younger sister, but she died a long time ago.” A familiar arrow of pain stabbed at Shelby’s heart. She still missed Sarah like it was yesterday, not the twenty-two-years ago she’d lost her baby sister. And her parents too.
Nick’s sandwich stopped halfway to his lips. “Sorry. My sisters can be a real pain in the ass sometimes . . . but mostly they make me glad they’re mine.”
Glad they’re mine? Maybe Nick wasn’t a complete Neanderthal.
They ate in silence for a few minutes until Shelby just couldn’t stand not knowing any longer. “Why did you stop by Randy’s table?”
He shrugged. “Women have all the power in a first meet. They get to decide if you get a second chance. Never hurts to have a wingman.”
“Hummm” was all she could manage. So he was being nice to Randy? A puzzle—no, a contradiction. That’s what Nick Caldwell was.
He finished off his pie and then started on the éclair. After he had devoured every last crumb, he stood and threw a five on the table for a tip. “Ignore my questionnaire and set me up with a brunette. Probably should test out Jo’s theory.” He shot her a naughty grin then headed for the door.
***
Nick glanced at his niece as they drove to the bookstore. He was no expert, but something was wrong. Her face was scrunched up and she kept rubbing her stomach. “You okay there, Princess? ’Cuz if there’s going to be ralphing involved I’d rather you didn’t do it in my Porsche.”
Emily forced a smile. “I’m just excited.”
“I’d be excited too, to meet my favorite author in the entire universe. That Chester dude’s fun. I like him.”
Emily’s face brightened. “Me too!”
“You sure you’re feeling okay?” He pulled into a parking space.
“Yup.” Emily whipped off her seatbelt and opened the door.
Nick helped her out and then held her hand as they crossed the parking lot. Emily’s pace was especially pokey, so he scooped her up into his arms. “Come on, lead feet. Let’s get us a Chester book.”