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“I have no idea what to get Mom this year. She’s never been the easiest person to shop for.” She raised her sandwich toward her mouth, but stopped short of bit
ing into it again.
If Taylor thought Priscilla was hard, she should meet his mother. When the woman wanted something, she went out and bought it. And forget about there being anything she needed. That scenario did not exist. Ever.
“Last year I got her a gift certificate for a day at a spa. One of those special packages that includes a facial, manicure, and a pedicure. She almost never pampers herself. She loved it, but I don’t want to do the same thing again.”
He didn’t have Mom’s weekly schedule, but he was confident she got all three of those things on a regular basis.
“What did you get? Maybe it’ll give me a new idea.”
Please don’t ask to see it. One look at it would send Taylor’s mind in a direction he didn’t need it going. “Jewelry.” His mother had no need for more, but when he saw the one-of-a-kind diamond-and-emerald necklace, he’d known his mom would love it. Emeralds were her favorite gemstone.
Taylor played with the sandwich wrapper. “Yeah, that’s out. I got Mom a bracelet for her birthday in February. And for Christmas I got her a new purse, so that’s not an option either.” She sighed as she wrapped the untouched half of her sandwich and put it back inside the plastic bag. Then she went for the baklava she’d ordered. “Maybe I’ll take Reese shopping this weekend after her soccer game. It’ll be just the two of us. Mom can’t come—she’s got plans with a friend. She loves gardening; we might find something at the Green Caterpillar. It’s a gardening store in Nashua. And Nashua isn’t very far away.”
“Other than Reese’s soccer game, do you have any plans this weekend?”
Her head tipped back, and she looked at the sky. “I told Mom I’d cut the lawn. We usually take turns doing it, but her knee has been bothering her again. If I don’t do it soon, Stripes will get lost every time he goes out.”
He’d offer to do it, but he’d never touched a lawn mower in his life.
“Reese’s game isn’t until noon on Saturday and it’s in town, so I’m hoping to get the lawn done in the morning before we go.”
“Want some company at the game?”
“You want to come and watch a bunch of seven-year-olds play soccer?”
Right now he wasn’t sure who was more surprised by his question: her or him. He’d asked about her weekend plans because he wanted to get her alone again, not because he had a dying need to see a children’s soccer game. But he knew a mother/daughter bond existed between Taylor and her niece. He’d never ask Taylor to skip events with Reese to be with him instead.
Curt shrugged. “Why not?” Because you’re getting yourself in deeper and deeper each time you interact with Taylor and her family. And the deeper he got, the shittier he felt, because they didn’t know who he really was. “Maybe I’ll learn a thing or two watching them.”
“Okay, but don’t complain or ask me to rub it when your butt hurts from sitting on the metal bleachers all afternoon.”
“What if I return the favor? I’m very good at giving massages.” Curt set aside his sandwich, and angled her body so he could rub her shoulders. While his fingers kneaded the knots there, he kissed the side of her neck. “Come by tonight and I’ll give you a more thorough demonstration.” He moved his hands lower and massaged the area between her shoulder blades. “Of course, you could repay the favor if you were so inclined.”
She groaned when he started working out a large knot. “I can’t tonight. Can I get a rain check?”
Her request brought to mind another conversation. “Did Reese ever learn why we call it a rain check?”
“Huh?” She glanced over her shoulder.
Curt continued the massage while he explained his conversation with Reese.
“She never asked me about it. Maybe Mom found her an answer.”
The girl seemed like the type who’d seek out an answer whenever something she didn’t understand or know crossed her path. “I’ll ask her.” He kissed her neck again. “You can collect your rain check whenever you want,” he said.
***
A little more than an hour later, Curt escorted Taylor back and made a hasty retreat from the city. Rush hour traffic out of Boston didn’t start at five like many people thought. No, around here the highways became a parking lot starting at three thirty, and he had no desire to be stuck sitting there.
Because he intended to pick stuff up from his condo, he’d left his motorcycle in the garage and driven his SUV into the city this morning. The weather, though, called for either the bike or the new Aston Martin convertible sitting in Newport. He’d only driven the car twice since purchasing it. He needed to rectify that soon. While the SUV got him where he needed to go, it lacked style and personality. But it blends in well, he reminded himself. Every other household in Pelham either owned a SUV, minivan, or a pickup. He’d seen plenty of BMWs and Mercedes in town, as well as a few Porsches. Still, if he showed up at the grocery store on Route 38 in either his Aston Martin or the McLaren, people would notice. Once they noticed, somehow word would get back to Taylor and her family. Information such as that needed to come from him, not some third party. Assuming she needed the information at all. At the moment, he wasn’t sure she did.
“Keep offering to attend her niece’s soccer games and you’ll need to share.” He never should’ve opened his damn mouth. He would’ve survived until Sunday without any female companionship. Getting involved with a woman hadn’t even been part of his plan when he moved.
“You came here to finish the book and renovate a house.” A house he planned on selling when complete, so he could move on to another project. One located in New England, or just about anywhere else in the country. Oddly, the longer he lived in the house and the town, the less appealing the thought of selling it became.
Chapter Eight
