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“You’re making a mistake.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, rising from the swing and staring down at him from three steps above. “Stop telling me what I want and what I don’t, Mick. I would have thought you’d learned a long time ago that I don’t respond well to that kind of thing.”
He stiffened. Like he’d needed a reminder of how she’d reacted when he’d tried to insist she didn’treallywant to move out to L.A. That her future was withhim.
The anger in her voice and condemnation in her eyes was the last straw. He didn’t protest as she looked at the house. As predicted, she loved it. She really went crazy over the media room with the amazing TV setup. Caroline was ready to move full speed ahead and sign a lease on the spare suite of rooms.
So be it.
An hour later, after she’d signed the papers and paid the full four weeks’ rent in advance, he watched her pull away from his office without a backwards glance.
“You made your bed, babe. Now you can lie in it.”
He just couldn’t wait to see what she said when she found out that bed was inhishouse.
CHAPTER FOUR
“SO, TELL ME about this Caro Lamb.”
Great. Just the person Mick didn’t want to talk about. And just the person he didn’t want to talk about her with—his mother—who’d beelined for his table at Al’s Café the minute she’d entered. So much for his nice, quiet Friday morning breakfast. “Her name’s Caroline. And there’s nothing to tell.”
His mother sniffed, knowing better. Mick watched, amused, while the very predictable Marnie Winchester picked up a napkin, wiped off the seat and made a harrumphing sound as crumbs floated to the floor. She sat across from him, keeping her purse in her lap, hands folded neatly on top of it. He knew darn well she’d ask the waitress to wipe off the table before she ate a thing.
“Sophie seems to think you knew her before.”
Sophie, you’re a dead woman.
He merely shrugged, neither confirming nor denying, hoping his mother had lost that whole mind-reading ability once her kids were out of the house. But he doubted it.
“Well?” she persisted, not at all put off by his signals.
She’d been relentless about Caroline since the afternoon when they’d bumped into her coming out of his house. She’d been there baking him a nice homemade pie. Why? Because his mother was convinced he hadn’t eaten a decent meal or a good wholesome home-cooked treat since leaving home ten years ago.
“I’ve told you, she’s a producer with the TV show,” he said.
“The TV show?” Tina Laudermilk, who was sitting at the next booth listening to every word they said, turned around and gave Mick a good-morning smile. “I hear they’ve started to arrive.”
From behind him, Mick heard a man’s voice. “I saw a bunch of trucks at the inn yesterday when I was making my deliveries.” It was Earl Donovan, the UPS guy, and an aspiring actor who’d been following the TV show goings-on with avid interest.
Earl and Tina began a conversation right over Mick’s and his mother’s heads, talking back and forth as if the other booth was not between them. “I stopped by the trailer and picked up the paperwork to be an extra.”
“Is it true they’re going to do scenes here?” Tina asked.
Al, the owner and cook, popped his head up from behind the half wall separating the kitchen and the counter. “Yep. And they’re paying me, too.”
“Better save the money for future food poisoning claims,” Mick muttered.
Judging by the way his mother’s lips twitched, she’d heard.
“I saw the director fellow in the drug store yesterday,” Tina said. She made a gooey-eyed face that told Mick what she’d thought of the man. “And did you hear the host is going to be Joshua Charmagne, from that cop show? What a dream.”
The whole thing was more like a nightmare to Mick.
“He won’t be interested in you.” This from Danny Jordan, a truck driver who ran diesel throughout the state. He swiveled on his stool and jumped into the conversation.
“Who says?” she snapped back, obviously offended.
“I do,” Danny replied evenly. Considering he often cast longing glances at Tina, Mick would bet he had a personal dog in this fight. “He’d probably be more interested in Mick.”
