The Groom Came Back. Abby Gaines

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СКАЧАТЬ That earned him a swat on the back as he stepped over the threshold. He turned to hand her the flowers, which hadn’t suffered from being squashed in that hug.

      “Jack, they’re gorgeous.” Brenda sniffed deeply at the bouquet, then sent him a sly smile. “I’ll bet I know where you got these.”

      “The best florist in town,” he said easily.

      His mom beamed. “Isn’t she just?”

      Something about that beam, which smacked of personal pride, rang alarm bells in Jack’s head.

      Then his mom said, “Everyone’s here to see you, sweetie. I put on a light lunch,” and he forgot about the florist.

      “Everyone” meant a bunch of Mitchell relatives, and a “light lunch” meant a groaning buffet table, doubtless including his mother’s signature dish, Parkvale Curried Chicken Salad. He’d kind of missed Parkvale Curried Chicken Salad, which bore no resemblance to anything from India and had only a passing acquaintance with curry powder.

      Brenda shepherded him into the living room of the Victorian house. High-ceilinged, deep-windowed, it at least was still the size he remembered. “He’s here,” she announced.

      Uncle Frank and Aunt Nancy occupied the window seat. Their daughter, Sarah, held hands on the couch with a dark-haired man, and Jack vaguely recalled news of an engagement, plans for a June wedding. The two guys over by the bookcase must be Mark and Jason, Sarah’s older brothers. They’d both bulked up in eight years and Mark—or was it Jason?—had a serious facial hair thing going.

      “Son, it’s great to see you.” Jack’s father caught him in an easy hug. He must have closed the hardware store early, since Dan usually liked to put in a full day on Saturday. “I mean in the flesh,” Dan joked, “not just on TV.”

      “Good to see you, too, Dad.” Jack shook his hand.

      Dan put a possessive arm around Brenda, who leaned into him with the loving look that Jack forever associated with his parents.

      Situation normal. It didn’t take a medical degree to see everything was as it had always been. Whatever point Callie had been trying to make in her e-mails, she was wrong.

      Jack moved around the room, greeting his relatives, being introduced to the fiancé, accepting congratulations for the TV documentary that had recently aired on his pioneering surgical techniques. He’d completed his circuit, said his fourth “No, I’m not back for good” and accepted a beer, when through the picture window, he saw a white Honda coupe pull up across the end of his parents’ driveway, blocking his car in.

      Jack tugged at the collar of his shirt. He reminded himself he could leave town anytime he liked; it was crazy to feel as if his escape route had been cut off.

      A woman got out of the car. Huh, the florist. Jack patted his back pocket. Nope, he hadn’t left his wallet in the store.

      She walked up the path, her stride purposeful, her hips swinging. From this distance, he got perspective on her figure, which really was great.

      “Uh, Mom…” He gestured toward the window.

      “There she is,” Brenda said, pleased.

      The florist hadn’t been kidding when she said she knew his mom well. So well that she walked in the front door without knocking or waiting to be admitted. Everyone in the room greeted her with familiarity, a ragged succession of heys and hellos.

      “Sweetie, you did a wonderful job with these flowers.” It took Jack a second to realize that his mom was talking to the woman, not him. Her use of the family endearment “sweetie” niggled, no matter that in his younger years he’d derided it.

      “I was looking at some old photos the other day,” Brenda said to Jack, “and I couldn’t believe how Callie has changed. I’m amazed you recognized her.”

      Who would have guessed Jack had a degree from Harvard Medical School and postgraduate qualifications from Oxford University, when it took him five long seconds to realize what should have been glaringly obvious the moment he’d stepped into that damn shop?

      The woman standing six feet away from him, lips curved in a smile but blue eyes sparking with an emotion that was far from friendly, was Callie. Callista Jane Summers. The woman he’d married.

      “Actually, Brenda, he didn’t recognize me,” she said. “And I’m afraid I was naughty. I didn’t tell him.”

      Jack knew from that flash in her eyes there’d been more than mischief behind her omission. What the heck was going on?

      Brenda laughed, delighted. “That’s just gorgeous. Jack, did you really have no idea?”

      Without taking his eyes off Callie, he said to his mom, “You never told me she’s a florist. I thought she renovates houses.”

      “I buy houses and do them up in my spare time so I can sell them again.” Callie met his gaze full on. She didn’t need to tell him that, dammit; she’d been using his money to fund her little DIY venture. “But I trained as a florist, and I’ve had my own store nearly a year.”

      “Now that you know who she is—” Brenda patted his arm “—you can greet her properly.”

      His head snapped around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Callie’s do the same. Surely Mom didn’t mean…

      “Give her a kiss,” Brenda urged, just as she used to make him kiss his sister, Lucy, on her birthday.

      He looked at Callie, saw in her eyes the acknowledgment that any refusal would cause more trouble than either of them needed. He moved toward her, just as she took a halting step in his direction.

      She offered him her right cheek. He brushed it with his lips, and though the contact lasted only a fraction of a second, it was long enough to feel the contrast between the satiny smoothness of her skin and the dry hardness of his lips. Long enough to pick up the scent of jasmine and roses and something else uniquely floral. She’s a florist, so of course she smells like a garden.

      She pulled away fast, leaving Jack feeling as if his lips were stranded on a street corner. Brenda murmured her approval.

      Callie clasped her hands behind her back so she wouldn’t rub her cheek where Jack had kissed it. Her brain faltered and she found herself saying, “So, how long are you in town?”

      She knew, of course. She was the one who’d told him he needed to be resident in the county for thirty days before they could file for a no-fault divorce. The quizzical furrow in his brow confirmed that not only did he distrust her thanks to her “joke,” he now doubted her mental capacity.

      “He’s here for a month,” Brenda said happily. “Such a treat for us that he was able to convince the hospital to let him go that long.”

      “Lucky us,” Callie said.

      “I can’t wait to reintroduce him around town,” his mother said. “I’m thinking a walk in the park on Monday, the school board meeting on Tuesday—”

      “Just leave him some time to come by the store,” Dan interrupted.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ