Finding Her Home. Carol Steward

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СКАЧАТЬ Looks like all you needed was someone to get your heart pounding again.”

      Long, delicate fingers inched down her cheeks and those onyx eyes looked up at him. He could drown in her gaze.

      Wished he could, anyway. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist giving you a bad time. Which way to the bathroom?”

      “First door on the right. I think you’ll find everything you need. Towels and washcloths are in the cabinet. Help yourself. I’ll order pizza and salad, if that’s okay. I think it will arrive the quickest of anything. What kind do you like?”

      “Deep-dish, supreme, everything but the kitchen sink.”

      Tori grabbed half of a toasted bagel, which lay on a paper towel on the ceramic tile table near the door, and held it up. “See this—I had breakfast made.” She spread a little peanut butter on it, then took a small bite and reached for the phone, her pointer finger scanning a list nearby. “Drinks?” Tori punched in the numbers, said yes into the receiver and waited.

      “Not when I’m driving.”

      She tipped her head and gave him a stern look that he was certain had been perfected at school.

      “Whatever cola they offer is fine. Do you need help getting up the stairs?” He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so young, so intrigued by a perfect stranger.

      Now she was laughing, too. “Positive.”

      His heart stopped and she recited her name into the phone, as if none of this mattered to her at all. It probably didn’t, he realized.

      Even though they were both educators, it didn’t mean they shared the same interests outside of the classroom. He glanced around the room again, hoping he’d find some clue that they had something else in common. The room wasn’t simply neat, it was immaculate. One strike against him. It was more than he could manage to keep up with laundry. The furniture looked as if she’d just taken the plastic wrap off yesterday. There were no dishes in the drainer. None in the sink. Did she really live here?

      Steve’s gaze roamed to Tori, suddenly aware that she was ordering their lunch. She looked to be at least a decade his junior. Surely such an intelligent and beautiful woman had the pick of the crop when it came to men.

      Her cell phone rang, and she reached into her briefcase for it while completing her phone call with the pizza parlor.

      Their age difference was like a thorn in his side, reminding him that he was no youngster. He had commitments, and his children’s needs were his first priority. He let himself dream, just for a minute, that there could be something between them. Lately it seemed like all the available women were fresh out of high school or looking for someone to take responsibility for her and a few kids. Just because his hair was graying didn’t mean he was over the hill. Close, but not quite. He disappeared before the thorn began to fester.

      From down the hall he heard her voice and paused. Was she talking to him? “Sorry to bother you at work, Chase. How’re you today?”

      He shook his head. Steve knew better than to think she had no ties. He closed the door a bit, unable to tune out her wonderful, low voice. “I’m sorry. I need to cancel dinner.”

      There was a pause, then “I know it’s been months since we’ve met, but Abuela Sandoval had a stroke….” She paused, as if Chase had interrupted her. “Oh, sorry. Abuela is Spanish for grandma.”

      Steve closed the door and stripped off his clothes. It had been a long morning, till he’d met her. And in little more than an hour, this would all be a memory. A very nice memory. Surely she visited her grandparents. Maybe he could casually suggest they get together next time she came to Segundo. Casual? Right. Thus far, you’ve been about as subtle as the 4:00 a.m. coal train rumbling through the valley.

      After cleaning himself up, he waited in the living room, admiring her decorating taste, even if it was a bit too perfect. Southwest decor had been the rage a few years back. His wife had tried it, but Southwest just didn’t fit in their Baltimore suburb home. Here, the subdued colors were natural, blending well with the arched doorways and plastered walls. Out the living room window Tori had a view of the Rocky Mountains—Cheyenne Mountain, to be exact. Off the dining room, a view of desolate and flat plains.

      Delicate footsteps sneaked up behind him. “The laundry room is downstairs, Dr. Remington.” She pinched the shoulder of the green cotton fabric and tugged lightly. “Scrubs don’t flatter many people, but on you the look fits.”

      “Very funny.” He followed her with his bundle of laundry. She wouldn’t be teasing him if she knew the drastic measures he had taken to avoid following in his father’s medical footsteps.

      Tori started the washer, added detergent and stain lifter, then sprayed her clothing and handed the bottle to him.

      Steve sprayed a meager amount of treatment then shoved them in the washer and closed the lid. “Is this anything like meeting at the Laundromat over mismatched socks?”

      She laughed. “We’re a little old for stale excuses for meeting someone, aren’t we?”

      “Personally, I’m too old to be playing the field at all. But since you asked…your technique could use some work,” he teased.

      “It might have helped if you hadn’t been standing in the doorway.” Her tone was different than when she’d broken her date with Chase.

      Velvetier.

      She stepped away and smiled.

      He stared back in amused silence, wondering if they were really flirting. It had been, what, fifteen years since he’d flirted with anyone. The few arranged dinner dates he’d had recently had been about as personable as having dental work done.

      Tori broke away from his gaze. “I need to call the school. It’s such a crazy time of year.” She lifted the phone that was now clipped to her slim waist and apologized yet again.

      “I understand.” He followed her up the stairs.

      Her conversation was short and to the point, reminding the secretary of another project deadline looming.

      The doorbell rang a few minutes after they’d settled into the overstuffed furniture. “I’ll take care of this,” he said as she pulled a twenty from her purse.

      “This is my treat.” She handed him the money, walked into the kitchen and pulled plates from the cabinet. From the refrigerator she pulled an overwhelming selection of salad dressings while he paid and carried the pizza to the table.

      “So, how do you like Colorado?”

      “What’s not to like? It was an adjustment from Maryland at first, but it was just what we needed. After my wife passed away, I needed to slow down and take time to bond with my kids.”

      “I’m so sorry. How did you end up in Coal Valley?”

      “My uncle said he needed help keeping up with the work on the ranch, which turned out to be an excuse to give the kids and I a place to escape from wellmeaning grandparents. It’s been a good move overall.”

      “Oh, you’re Bill Remington’s nephew. It just dawned on me. So you’re Brody’s cousin….”

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