She wanted to argue, You can’t decide on a pair of shoes if you don’t try them on.
His hand slid around the curve of her waist.
She burned everywhere he touched. Her resolve went to ash, her common sense to cinders, her self-preservation incinerated.
This was where she belonged. He made her feel smart, capable, and confident. In his arms, she felt courageous. She could tackle anything life threw her way. She could take care of him and nurture his broken heart. Make him believe in himself and the power of love again. And she would, she would, she would. As long as he never stopped kissing her like this.
Christine tugged his tie free, wrapping the ends around her palm, rubbing the silk over his neck, his ear, his cheek. He was a precious gift to her, slightly scarred, in need of a gentle polish.
A car pulled into his driveway. The lights blinding.
Slade turned and shielded her behind him, giving Christine a moment to make sure everything was properly in place—it was—and smooth her hair.
“Slade? What are you doing?” A woman’s voice. Horrified.
Christine stepped out of Slade’s shadow, squinted, held up a hand.
A too-thin woman, in heels too high with dark, blunt-cut hair, walked into the glare of the headlights.
A familiar silhouette. She’d seen her...driving away the day she started work.
Slade’s ex-wife.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“SLADE, NO.” EVY’S voice was surprisingly calm. “You know you can’t do this to anyone else.”
Christine had taken his hand when Evy got out of the SUV, standing side by side to face whatever his ex brought on. But Christine wasn’t ready for this. Slade wasn’t ready for this. Moments ago he’d been warm. Now his body felt frozen.
“Who’s that?” An older woman’s voice. It sounded like Agnes. And then Takata’s screen door swung open. “Someone just pulled into Slade’s driveway.”
“I don’t know who you are—” Evy was saying over the ruckus of walkers and octogenarians racing toward the door and fresh gossip. “—but you need to leave. For your own good.”
“I’m Christine.” His blonde warrior princess stepped in front of him, filling his heart with a bittersweet joy. Bittersweet because she didn’t know Evy was about to crush whatever feelings she had for him. Crushing hopes was what Evy excelled at. “And I’m not going anywhere. I belong here.”
Slade locked her claim deep in his heart, knowing he’d need it to comfort him later. “What are you doing here, Evy?”
“I didn’t have cell-phone service in France. When we landed in New York and I turned on my cell, I got your messages. You were concerned for the girls. I tried calling, but I didn’t get any answer, so I flew here.”
He’d turned his cell phone off to avoid any more calls offering money for their bottling permits and he’d been at Takata’s all day long. There was no answering machine at the house.
“Mom!” Faith ran across Takata’s driveway, twigs in her hair. Something in Evy’s expression stopped the girl from barreling into her mother for a hug.