Page List


Font:  

He reached the end of the hall before he caught his reflection in the huge antique mirror hanging on the wall. He hadn’t decided yet if he wanted to keep it or not, and since it wasn’t in his way he’d asked the cleaning crew to leave it. Tonight, he almost didn’t recognize the person in the glass. He should’ve anticipated his cousins’ reactions over the weekend. He’d always been anal about getting his hair cut. His hair grew like a weed on steroids, so he had a standing appointment once a month with his stylist in Boston. If the stylist saw his hair now, the poor man would keel over in his salon chair. The beard, though, was what really made the difference. He’d started shaving at fourteen, and had never gone for more than a few days without doing so since. Honestly, he’d had his cousin Scott in mind when he started letting his grow in. Scott had favored a well-trimmed beard for a few years. It looked good on Scott. On him, the jury was still out.

Stripes was stretched out on the top step, soaking up all the early evening sun he could. When Curt approached, the cat looked up, swished his tail back and forth, and then went back to enjoying the sun, dismissing Curt entirely. Taking the feline’s cue, he ignored the cat and rang the Walkers’ doorbell.

A stampede of unseen elephants ran toward the door. At least it sounded like a whole herd of them coming, but an elephant didn’t open the door. Instead, a petite almost-seven-year-old wearing a soccer T-shirt and shorts and with dirt on her face did.

“Hi, you’re here to get Auntie Taylor.” Reese pushed the screen door open, a bright welcoming smile on her face. The sound of the door got Stripes’s attention, and he jumped to his feet, slipping inside while he could. “Auntie Taylor, Curt’s here!” Reese shouted up the stairs once Curt came inside. “Auntie’s upstairs fixing her hair. And Mimi is in the kitchen. C’mon.” She took him by the wrist, leaving him no option but to follow her down the short hallway. “Mimi, Curt’s here,” she announced, as if Priscilla hadn’t already heard the girl shout upstairs.

“So I heard.” She handed her granddaughter a colorful cup with cats on it as Reese passed by. “Can I get you anything? Taylor should be down in a minute. We got stuck in traffic on the way home from Reese’s soccer game.”

“Have some of Mimi’s sweet tea, it’s the best. Way better than the stuff at Peggy Sue’s.”

He’d passed a restaurant named Peggy Sue’s when he’d gone shopping for kitchen flooring yesterday. He hadn’t stopped inside, but from the exterior it looked like a well-preserved 1950s diner. “Well, if Reese says it’s the best, I’d better try some,” Curt answered.

Priscilla poured him a glass before pouring one for herself. “My mom grew up in Tennessee, and moved north after she got married. People up here don’t know the proper way of making sweet tea. They think all you need to do is add some sugar.”

Both Priscilla and Reese watched him as he took his first sip. It turned into several more before he put the glass down. “I have to agree with Reese.”

Reese gave him another full-mouth grin.

“Did you win you game today?” he asked.

She nodded, her

long ponytail moving back and forth. “Yup. We’ve only lost one game all spring. I played in the winter, too, but my team wasn’t as good.”

“That happens. When I played lacrosse, sometimes we had a great team and sometimes we didn’t.”

“I want to try lacrosse, but Auntie Taylor and Mimi said I can’t do both because the games are both on the weekends. Did you ever play soccer?”

For a girl who wasn’t even seven, Reese seemed able to carry on good conversations. Or maybe all kids her age could. “No, I played football and lacrosse. My older brother tried soccer, but liked hockey better.”

Reese considered his answer while she enjoyed her tea. “If you want, I can teach you. I’m really good.”

Priscilla came up behind Reese’s chair. She gave him a look that said “I’m sorry.” “Curt’s probably too busy right now, sweetie. He’s got that whole house to work on.”

“Oh.” The girl’s smile vanished.

“Maybe one weekend you can give me a lesson.” He hated the disappointment on the kid’s face, and what was an hour or so?

Reese’s smile returned immediately.

Make sure you let us know when it blows up in your face. He remembered Gray’s final comment before they’d changed the subject entirely Sunday night.

Taylor picked what she considered the nicest dress in her closet. Not much of a shopper, her choices for the night were limited to a handful of sundresses, and this outfit, which she’d bought a while ago. Even if the dress was a year old, it’d be fine for their destination tonight. The previous spring she’d attended a friend’s bridal shower at Pellegrino wearing this very outfit. She paired it with the open-toed heels that matched, shoes she hadn’t worn since the last time she put on the dress. Actually, she hadn’t worn heels in months. Generally, the only time she dug them out was when she had to make an appearance in court for a case. Tonight, before heading down, she walked across her bedroom a few times, getting the hang of walking in them again.

Taylor stopped at the kitchen doorway in time to hear Curt say, “Maybe one weekend you can give me a lesson.”

He had his back to her, but she saw the big smile spread across her niece’s face. He might not have spent time around kids Reese’s age, but he was damn good with her. She’d noticed that on both occasions he’d had dinner with them. What she heard now was further proof.

“And if you want, and it’s okay with your grandmother, I’ll give you a lesson or two in lacrosse.”

Reese had bugged them about trying lacrosse this spring. They hadn’t told her no, but rather made her decide between it and soccer because the two conflicted. As expected, Reese stayed with soccer. She’d started playing in preschool and loved it.

Excitement filled her niece’s face. “Please, Mimi? Can he?”

“If Curt wants to give you a few lessons, it’s fine with me. But no bugging him about it. He’ll let you know when he has the time,” Mom answered.

Taylor wouldn’t put it past Reese to ask him about it every time she saw him. “Mimi’s right. You can’t nag him about it.”


Tags: Christina Tetreault Billionaire Romance