Almost Home. Debbie Macomber

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ picture, as if spying on her, his black tuxedo coat buttoned up tight.

      Had I really leaned in to kiss Aiden?

      “This is about reaching out to our fellow species! Grasping their humanity, their dignity! Haven’t you seen the horse?”

      “No, I haven’t.” I thought of my own Herbert Hoove the Horse. Herbert was humble and sweet and wore bow ties. I get letters from kids addressed to Herbert Hoove the Horse all the time.

      “Come and see him.”

      “No.” I would hide in my studio the rest of my life.

      “Yes. One peek. A tiny gander. You won’t be able to sleep at night once you’re introduced to Gordon. He’s depressed, he’s having anxiety issues, and he can’t sleep because he’s starving.”

      “Then Gordon and I have something in common, because I’m not sleeping much now, either.” I picked up Troublesome and dropped her on my lap. At least Troublesome hadn’t witnessed the kiss-attack.

      “Take a mental break. A break for Gordon. For a hairy old friend who whispered to me yesterday that he’s afraid he’s going to die and he has so much more he wants to do with his life!”

      Gina is very passionate about animals. Not only is she a pet communicator, she runs an animal sanctuary on the island. Her grandfather bought tons of land here decades ago, and she inherited it. In addition, she inherited money from her father, a megamillionaire software guy, so her full-time job was taking care of animals that had been used in medical experiments. The labs were actually giving her their animals when they were through with them, and a donation, on condition that she never reveal the status of their health when they arrived.

      “I have great fondness for hairy old friends, Gina, but right now I’m painting a cat who bears a sad resemblance to a sick porcupine, and I can’t stop.”

      She marched around my studio for a few minutes, her long hair swaying like a horse’s tail as she stared at my paintings. “Okay, Chalese. I’ll make you a deal.”

      “No deal.”

      “Listen up. If you go with me to take a gander, a peek at this starving, troubled, emotional horse, I’ll make you one of my frozen chocolate, flourless pies.”

      My paintbrush stopped in midair. “Really?”

      “Yes, really.”

      I’m a sucker for those pies. “How about two?”

      “Agreed. Two for the horse!”

      “Done. We’re on.”

      Who knew that a few days later I was going to end up with a horse in my dining room?

      Chapter Five

      “I’m so sorry, Aiden, so sorry. I should never have tried to kiss you.” I could hardly meet the man’s eyes as he stood on my front porch, my wind chimes tinkling in the afternoon wind.

      How do you explain to someone that your lust carried you away, and you could not resist them? “I am a clumsy elephant, a ridiculous, pathetic, cloistered writer. I don’t get out enough, I hot-flash, I talk to my dogs and half the time I expect them to answer back, I hang out with Brenda, who is so wild and—”

      He held a hand up. “Chalese”—his voice was a bit strangled—“please don’t apologize. Please don’t. I mean it. I was flattered, I was. But … this is my job. You’re my job.”

      “Absolutely. I know it. The ox in me will never charge at you again.” I slapped my hands to my face. Why must I speak about animals so much?

      He took three steps closer to me. “You’re very … engaging. You’ve got this curious, electric aura about you, this mystery, but at the same time you’re so open about who you are and sincere. And you’re so smart. I can almost hear your brain ticking away a million miles an hour.” He rubbed his neck. “But this is not the time or the place for me to …” He coughed. “To return your … kiss.”

      Clearly, it wasn’t, that voice in my head assailed me. He-man Aiden would not ever want to return your … kiss. He was trying to alleviate my total humiliation because he was a nice guy, then smooth things over so he could write the article without me making any more awkward kissy-lunges toward him.

      “Hey, Aiden,” I snapped, feeling my face get red, therefore resembling a fire engine. Perhaps I should make the sound of a fire engine? “You don’t have to make me feel better here, okay? I don’t need your pity. Ask me the damn questions you need to ask, and let’s get this over with. I’ll keep my kisses to myself.”

      His eyes went bleak all of a sudden, his voice gruff. “That wasn’t what I meant, Chalese, not at all.”

      “Sure it is. The frumpy children’s book author made a fool of herself, and you’re trying to let her down easy by saying it’s ‘not the time or the place for me to return your kiss.’ Shove it, okay?”

      “The last word I would use to describe you is frumpy, even if you are still in your pajamas.”

      “I’m working. This is my work uniform. Got a problem with it, close your eyes.”

      “I have no problems with your work uniform, even if you do have pink giraffes on your pajamas. And I don’t pity you, so don’t start with that. We’re going to talk about what happened down there another time.”

      “Sure we are. As soon as I grow a third head out my spine. Let me grab the dogs, and we’ll walk down to the ocean.” I shut the door, dove into the shower, yanked my jeans on without the usual force, which was strange, and threw a red sweatshirt over my head.

      We got all the leaping dogs on leashes and headed for the ocean, the sun golden and warm, shining through the trees in sparkling rays.

      The dogs were poorly behaved and rambunctious, as usual, and soon I let them off-leash. They grinned victoriously, their tongues lolling about, and headed off into their high adventure.

      Aiden got out a notepad as we strolled along the shoreline and I tried to avoid looking at him. “All right, I need you to trust me a little bit here with a few simple questions.”

      I quivered inside but tried not to show it. Trust him. My childhood had about beat my ability to trust any man right out of my body.

      “When did you start drawing?”

      “I can’t remember not drawing.” That was the truth.

      “So you started as a child?”

      I nodded. I didn’t want to say that drawing and writing were an escape for me then. That drawing gave me a way to block out my father and the rampant fear he caused, the crushing hurt, the anger, the way I felt when I saw him clock my mother or lock her in their bedroom suite for days in our New York apartment.

      Kangaroos in pink aprons I could control. A fox in a tuxedo I could laugh at. A parakeet who braided her head feathers I could handle. Pretty soon, my animals were talking. At first it was simple stuff, from a child’s viewpoint. But that child, moi, grew up pretty quick in that house, and my kangaroos in pink aprons were СКАЧАТЬ