Author: Robyn Carr

“Are you hoping I’ll decline?”

“Why would you say that?”

“You wouldn’t even look me in the eye when you asked me.”

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry. It’s just that, I know you want to keep us…casual.”

“When did I say that?” she asked with a laugh.

“When you said you’d been married five times and were done with that shit. I believe that’s a direct quote.”

That amused her. She reached over and put a hand on his thigh. “Walt, it would take a lot to get me to ever consider marriage again. I’ve been through the wringer on marriages. I say ‘I do’ and there’s a cosmic explosion turning fabulous, sexy men into incorrigible animals or complete idiots. I’m cursed—I wouldn’t do that to anyone. But I’m not avoiding a good relationship. And this seems as though it’s shaping up to be a very good relationship. I’d love to join you for Thanksgiving dinner. But since we both know my limitations, I’ll be in charge of cleanup.”

His black brows lifted and he smiled. “Really?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not Susan Sarandon or George Clooney for one thing.”

“Or Ed Asner, who is very special to me. But you are Walt Booth, and you rank right up there. But be careful, Walt. People will think we’re serious.”

He grinned at her. “At the risk of scaring you to death, I’m very serious about you, Muriel. And a good relationship is exactly what I’m in the market for. That, and a decent dishwasher.”

Thirteen

When Sean and Maureen arrived late Tuesday afternoon, Luke was ready for them. The house was cleaned from top to bottom and, though there was still a lot of renovation to complete, the walls were textured and painted, the floors sanded, stained and varnished and the kitchen rebuilt. His furniture was good stuff—it made the place look better. He would put his mother in his room and his brother upstairs. Since there was no furniture in the second upstairs bedroom, he’d take the couch. He had logs in the fireplace, wine chilling in the refrigerator, steaks to put on the small grill he’d purchased…and he’d told Shelby she would meet Maureen Wednesday night because he’d want a little time to visit with his mother first. That wasn’t the reason, of course. He could have asked Shelby to come over right after she finished in town on Tuesday, but that might look eager, and Maureen didn’t need any encouragement.

Much as he resented the intrusion, he was actually thrilled to see his mom. He figured in about two days he’d be less thrilled, but when she stepped out of Sean’s SUV, he beamed. Damn, she sure didn’t look sixty-one and on both blood pressure and cholesterol medication. And you’d never take her for a woman who’d been a stay-at-home mom raising five very high-maintenance sons. She looked sophisticated even though she wore jeans, boots and a leather jacket. The thing that really melted him was his mother’s smile, her eyes. Her smile was so stunning and bright; she had large, strong, white teeth. And Luke couldn’t remember a time her green eyes hadn’t sparkled; now they crinkled just a little bit in the corners when she grinned.

“Luke! Honey!” she called, running up onto the porch and embracing him.

He held her in his arms for a long minute. “How you doing, Mom?”

“I couldn’t get here fast enough, that’s how.” She held him away from her. “You look okay. I was afraid you’d be thin and pale.”

“Now, why would I be thin and pale?” he asked. He glanced over her shoulder to see Sean struggling with multiple suitcases from the back of the SUV. “Jesus, how long are you staying?”

“Just until Sunday—but it was hard to know what to bring for a place like this.”

“So you just brought everything?”

“Funny,” she said. “So where is Art? And Shelby?”

“Shelby?” he asked.

“I heard all about her from Sean. Pretty little thing, the only niece of a general, young, great on a horse, crazy about you, etcetera…”

“Mom, she’s not here. She’s at home. I asked her to come over tomorrow night to meet you and we’ve been invited to her uncle’s house for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “I was looking forward to cooking for you.”

“We can do that,” he said hopefully. “I’m sure they’d understand—we don’t see each other that often.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have plenty of time to cook and leave you leftovers. And what are we to bring to Shelby’s family for the meal?”

He frowned. It might not take two days for that excitement to wear off, after all. “Wine. I bought it.”

“We’ll have to take something else,” she said. “Pies, beans, bread, something.”

“Let me get the luggage, Mom.”

“Fine. And then show me this wonderful place.”

Luke went down the steps while his mother went directly into the house to look around. There’s one thing about having five boys with a strict father—Maureen was not to insult them by lifting a finger while they were around, except in domestic ways. They wouldn’t let her haul groceries or luggage while any of them were present. So Luke went to the back of the SUV where Sean was unloading way too many suitcases for five nights. “You’d think she was taking a fricking cruise.”

“Your death is going to be slow and painful.”

“Aw, come on! What’s up your butt now? You had plenty of time to get used to the idea. And she’s thrilled to be here, you can see that.”

“You told her all about Shelby? I didn’t even tell you what was going on with Shelby! Can’t you ever keep your mouth shut about anything?”

“I beg your pardon—I fly a spy plane. I have a very large security clearance. I told her about Shelby to piss you off.” He grinned. “Did I hear right? We’re going to the general’s for dinner?”

“Listen to me carefully, because if you screw this up I really will kill you. She’s young and inexperienced, not my type, I’m too old for her and it’s not serious. Her uncle is trained in hand-to-hand combat and he doesn’t like that she likes me. It’s not the usual thing, so just keep your big mouth shut. You hear me?”

“Whew, this is making you testy,” Sean said with a smirk. “That means it’s heating up. Where’s Art?”

“In his cabin. I’ll go get him as soon as we get these bags in the house.” Luke hefted two. “Jesus, where did she think she was going?”

“She plans to be at her best for your new friends. You know, you could have avoided all this by just going to Phoenix for two days.”

“I’ve been trying to avoid you for years, but you just won’t go away,” Luke grumbled. “This was your idea and you know it. Don’t screw with me.”

Sean stiffened. “In three seconds we’ll be back twenty years, rolling in the dirt. Let’s not do this to her, huh? She really gives a shit what’s happening with you. I don’t, but she does.”

“Ach,” Luke said, hefting a couple more bags. He took them up on the porch and said, “Put her stuff in my room. You’re upstairs. I’m going for Art.” He went down the steps to the cabin next door.

Luke gave two taps and opened the door. Art was sitting on the edge of his bed, made up tidily every morning, just waiting. He was all cleaned up, his sparse hair slicked back and wearing the new pants that Luke had purchased for him. His hands were clasped in front of him and he seemed to be terrified. “Art?” Luke asked.

“Are they here now?”

“They’re here. You ready to come say hello?”

He stood up nervously and rubbed his palms down his trousers. He nodded too vigorously.

“What’s the matter? It’s just Sean and my mother. You know Sean. You got along fine. You worried about something?”

He shook his head forcefully. Luke stepped toward him. “Look, you’re shook up about something. What’s got you so upset?”

“Nothing. I had a shower. I didn’t eat sandwiches, like you said.”

Luke smiled. Art loved his bologna sandwiches. “You look great. I just wanted you to be hungry for dinner and you wouldn’t be if you filled up on sandwiches. You’ll have some steak with us.”

“Steak is hard. I had it. I don’t work the knife that good because I didn’t use it that much, and steak gets too big for my mouth. My head’s big but my mouth is small, that’s what Stan said.”

“You worried about that?” Luke asked, smiling. “I’ll help with that. You’ll work the knife fine—you do everything else with tools just fine. We’ll get the steak small enough for your mouth. By the way, I don’t buy that, that your mouth is small. I listen to you all day long, and I wouldn’t call it a small mouth. Come on, you’re the first person my mother asked about.”

“My mother’s gone now,” he said.

“I know, Art. You’ll like my mother. She’ll like you.”

“I’m not like everyone else.”

“I told her you had Down syndrome, Art. She knows all about that. We had a good friend with Down’s growing up—you’re not going to disappoint anyone. You’re perfect. She’ll like you very much.”

“You think?” he asked.

“Is that what you’re worried about? Aw, it’s going to be fine—my mother is a very nice person. To people other than her sons, anyway. Come on, let’s get on with this so you can settle down. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous. You act like you’re scared.”

“I had a shower,” he said. “And didn’t eat the sandwiches. One, I had one.”

“It’s okay.” Luke laughed. “Were you hungry? Because around here you eat when you’re hungry. You don’t get in trouble for that.”

“I know,” he said. “I know.” And he twisted his hands.

“Jesus, we better get this over with,” Luke said. “She’s not the queen of England. Calm down.”

Art moved slowly. As Luke walked to his house, he had to pause and wait for Art several times and it was not far. By the time he opened the door to his house, his mother and Sean were working their way into the wine.

“Well, hello,” Maureen said brightly. “You must be Art.”

Art stood just inside the door, looked down at the floor and nodded.

“Then come in. I’m so happy to finally meet you. I hope you’re hungry—I think we’re going to a place called Jack’s.”

Luke shot a glance at Sean and scowled. This could really screw up his plan to have his relationship with Shelby appear casual. Sean shrugged and glanced away.

“I like Jack,” Art said tremulously.

“I have steaks,” Luke said. “I thought we’d stay in.”

Maureen came out of the kitchen and went to Art. “Steaks will keep—we want to do the town. Are you a little shy, Art?” she asked him softly.

He nodded, but not quite so ferociously.

“Well, you don’t have to be shy with me, because I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. And I hear you’ve been a big help to Luke.”

Art lifted his eyes and said, “You’re not the queen of England.”

Maureen gave Luke a withering stare from narrowed eyes, something she had perfected by the time he was seven. It was that warning glance. The boys called it the “don’t fuck with me” look, but Maureen had never in her life uttered that word.

“But I almost am, Art, so I trust you to be very sweet and nice.”