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“It’s not all craziness.”
Flipping his turn signal to pass a slow-moving truck in front of them on the highway, he began to shake his head and chuckle. “Sorry, sweetheart, I just can’t picture you spray painting somebody’s tree or squirt people with stinky water.”
She tsked. “That was the director, remember?”
“And you don’t want to direct,” he replied, remembering one of their earlier conversations.
“Nope. So, how about you? You happy with the way your life has gone?”
He heard a tiny, breathy hitch in her voice and wondered if the question—and his answer—were as important to her as hers had been to him. “It’s…okay.”
“Just okay?”
He shrugged, trying to remember why it was just okay when a month ago he would have said everything was great. Why the life he’d always wanted—the one he’d lived since Caroline had walked away—suddenly didn’t seem like one he was satisfied with.
“I mean, I own a successful business.”
“Real estate. It’s so you. Mr. Salesman. You could charm an old granny into buying a G-string.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t want to see Hildy model it,” he immediately retorted. Then he continued.
“Okay, a sheep into buying wool.”
“I think I preferlambswool.”
“We know Louise Flanagan does,” she said. He almost heard her eyes rolling. She was obviously referring to the first time she’d seen him when she arrived in town.
Not exactly his finest moment.
He quickly changed the subject. “But yes, I seem to do well in sales and marketing. It was real estate or used cars. And you know me and cars.”
She laughed, as he’d intended her to, obviously remembering his bad track record with the succession of junker rides he’d had during college.
“By the way,” he informed her, figuring she’d find out sooner or later, “you’re not the only college dropout who took some night courses.”
“Oh, Mick, you did finish school?”
He nodded, as if it had been no big deal, though it was something he was very glad he’d done.
“So, we two college dropouts did pretty well in spite of sabotaging ourselves.”
“Sabotaging each other,” he muttered, before thinking better of it.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she murmured. Mick felt a thin wall of tension between them, when there had been none before. Caroline glanced out the window, suddenly focused on the passing scenery, not on their conversation.
That had been a stupid thing to say—he’d known it as soon as it left his mouth. But it was true. They had sabotaged each other. He with his immaturity and carefree nature, she with her suspicions and self-doubt.
He wasn’t entirely sure they’d changed that much. They still had to deal with her ambition, her need to be driven and successful, compared to his own lazy, laid-back life in Small Town, U.S.A. Her reaction to the women Mick saw casually on the street let her know that Caroline still didn’t entirely trust him. Perhaps she never would. All of that didn’t even take into account the geographical issue.
Things appeared much the same as they had eight years ago. But this time, Mick was determined their story was going to have a very different ending.
CAROLINE HAD HALF expected Mick to pull up in front of a pricey hotel in Chicago for their overnight date. She hadn’t been sure what to bring when he’d told her to pack a few things.
She wondered what he’d think when he saw what she pulled out of her little overnight bag. She nearly shivered thinking of theblacklace bra and panties with garter set. That and one or two very naughty things that she’d stuffed in her suitcase back in L.A. for some strange reason.
Strange reason? Not likely. It was Mick. It had always been Mick.
Even weeks before she’d stopped hating him, she’d known they were much too explosive to stay apart for long. Now she just regretted the time they’d wasted. She only had eight more days in town. That couldn’t possibly be enough to build the kind of memories she wanted to take with her when it was time to leave Mick.
