Always The One. Tara Randel

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       CHAPTER THREE

      “BOYFRIEND?”

      “You didn’t think my life stopped because you were no longer in it, did you?” Hannah asked, the heat of her words scorching her tongue.

      “Well, no. I…”

      For once he was speechless. Good, because she couldn’t deal with the torrent of emotions racing through her right now.

      “Jonathan?”

      She blinked. “How…”

      “Your mother mentioned him when she first came into the living room.”

      Right. So much had transpired since they got to her house, she didn’t remember her mother mentioning her boyfriend’s name.

      “He owns an art gallery in Carson City.”

      “So you’re still interested in paintings?”

      “It’s not like I have the time to indulge my interest, but yes.”

      “I always thought you’d work in a museum.”

      “Obviously that would have been in another life.”

      Annoyance crossed his face. “Yes, we’ve established you’re mad at me.”

      She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You seriously caught me off guard. And now we’re sitting around like long-lost friends bringing each other up to date when I never expected to see you again. It’s surreal.”

      “I get that you’re off-balance. I’ve been the same way since the package arrived.”

      She folded her arms on the table and rested her forehead on top, at a total loss for words. Was this really happening? And why did she keep noticing those wide shoulders of his and that lopsided smile that still left her a bit breathless. Surely she should have gotten over her first love…right? Especially when he’d blown up her life once already.

      “I guess I thought small talk might ease the shock.”

      She lifted her head. “At this point, I’m numb.”

      “Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

      Her hackles rose at his statement. “I can handle it.”

      “Didn’t say you couldn’t. It’s just an observation.”

      Those pesky tears she kept blinking back made an untimely appearance. She shook them off. “What do you want, Derrick?”

      “To make sure you and your mom are okay.”

      “Tall order.”

      “Good thing I’m a tall guy.”

      Biting back a grin, she rose. Wasn’t it just like Derrick to make jokes in a tense situation? He’d always had a quick sense of humor. It had been one of the qualities that drew her to him the most. Some things never changed…including her feelings? Impossible.

      “I’ve been taking care of us for years, Derrick, without anyone’s help.”

      “Point taken. But I have time off. If you’d—”

      “We’ve been perfectly fine, and will be, without you.”

      “Hannah,” came a strained voice from the living room, cutting through the tension simmering between them.

      “I need to check on Mom.”

      “I’m not going anywhere.”

      With a resigned sigh, she went to the other room only to return to the kitchen with her mother’s teacup. “Mom dozed off and when she woke up her tea had gone cold. The day after chemo she sleeps a lot.” Hannah dumped the tepid remains and refilled the cup with steaming water from the kettle. She glanced at the clock, hoping Derrick would leave soon so she could rest. After everything that had gone on today, she needed time to organize her thoughts and suppress her wayward emotions for a man she’d vowed to forget. “I suppose I should get dinner started,” she said mostly to herself, trying to hide the exhaustion that never seemed to go away. She shook off her fatigue, not wanting Derrick to feel sorry for her.

      She returned the cup to her mother who seemed more awake now. “I’ll fix you something else to eat.”

      “I’m not hungry.”

      “Mom…”

      “I’m also not twelve. If I don’t want to eat, I won’t.”

      “You need to keep up your strength.”

      “Tomorrow. I’ll feel better then.”

      Hannah blinked back hot tears. She knew not to push. Tomorrow would be here soon enough. She bent down to kiss her mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

      “Back at ya,” her mother teased with their little catchphrase, and what Hannah thought might be a cocky grin.

      “I’m cooking anyway.”

      Her mother rolled her eyes. “Help us all.”

      A laugh escaped Hannah, sounding hoarse and rusty to her own ears. She turned to go back to the kitchen but stopped short in the entryway. Surprisingly, Derrick was at the stove.

      “What’re you doing?”

      He glanced over his shoulder. “You said you wanted to get dinner started.”

      “Me. Not you.”

      He grinned. “First come, first serve.”

      “You sound juvenile.”

      “And you look beat. Sit down and let me worry about the meal.”

      She had to admit, letting someone else cook tonight was fine with her. She sank onto the chair.

      “What smells so good?”

      “I found leftover chicken in the fridge, pasta and sauce in the pantry.”

      Despite the crazy day, her stomach growled.

      “You cook as well as solve crimes?”

      He stirred the sauce, then turned to face her. “I live alone. It’s either learn СКАЧАТЬ