Reluctantly in Love (11 page)

He pointed at his forehead. “Tell that to my head. It’s killing me.”

I grimaced. “It probably does need a little ice.”

“There’s ice in our cooler.” Gen jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the pickup. “We already loaded it in the back of that truck.”

“Thanks,” Chase said. I sucked in a silent breath when he hit me with that smirk of a smile before he turned and headed for the truck.

When he was a good distance away, Gen mouthed, “
What the hell?
”

I shrugged, throwing my hands up. “This is
not
my fault, Imogen Mae. This is
your
fault for playing matchmaker in the
worst
place on earth. You know I have a fear of freaky murky water!”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d tip the canoe,” she said, her tone defensive.

I held my finger up to silence her and gave her a severe stare. “
Uh-uh
. Don’t even. I’m going to go apologize to Chase again. You stay here.”

I trotted over to Chase who stood beside the pickup. He looked up when I stopped beside him. “Come to finish me off?” he teased.

My face broke into a big smile. “
Ha-ha
. Very funny. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, again.” My gaze went up to his forehead. “For all the bruises.”

“It’s okay. I’m not broken.” He reached into the bed of the truck and dragged the cooler toward him. Flipping the lid open, he said, “How about some water?”

My mouth would have salivated if there was any moisture left in it. “I would kill for some.”

He side-stepped to put a foot of distance between us. “No need for violence, Bruiser.”

“Bruiser?” I took the bottle of water he handed me.

He grinned as he unscrewed the cap off his water. “Seems fitting.”

“I don’t think I can even argue with that.” I downed half the bottle. My eyeballs rolled back into my head as the cold, refreshing liquid slid down my parched throat. Afterward, I sucked in a deep breath. “God, I needed that.” I leaned against the side of the pickup. “So, are you staying all weekend?”

Leaning against the box of the pickup, he turned to gaze at me. I couldn’t tell what was behind those blue eyes of his. I didn’t normally worry about the kind of first impression I left with someone, but for some reason, I was concerned now. Just because I had no intention of ever dating this guy, didn’t mean I wanted him too afraid to be around me.

“I’m headed to my parents for supper after we get these canoes loaded. Haven’t seen them in a few months. My work schedule’s been pretty crazy.” His lips turned up into the teasing smile that made my stomach flutter-flip. “Why? You going to miss me?”

“Miss giving you flesh wounds, maybe.” I waggled my eyebrows at him, and he threw his head back with laughter.

“You know what, Roxanna Leigh Moss?” His blue eyes twinkled back at me. “I think you and I are going to be good friends.”

If I wasn’t already suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, I might have blushed. “I’m sorry I broke you, Dr. Walker. You’re good people.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Bruiser.” He set his empty water bottle into the bed of the truck and reached for another from the cooler. “Stay out of trouble. I’m going to help the guys load the canoes.”

My gaze followed him all the way to the dirt ramp where Matt stood talking to Leo and Lexie, who had just shown up in their canoe.

He was glorious. Every curve and line of his body.
He should never wear a shirt.
In my fantasy, he was shirtless, with a stethoscope around his neck . . . and I was in a skimpy nurse’s costume. I chewed on my bottom lip. It was easy to daydream. He looked more like a model than a doctor.

Gen snapped her fingers in front of my face.

“Where’d you come from?” I yanked my eyes from Chase’s beautiful flexing back muscles.

“I told you, you’d be interested in him if you just gave him a chance.” She looked away, too smug for her own good.

“Of course I’m interested—look at him.” I dumped the rest of the bottled water over my neck and shoulders to wash away the dirt sticking to my skin. “But it’s still not a good idea. I’m just going to enjoy the view, that’s all.”

“
Mm.
” Gen’s gaze laughed at me.

I crossed my arms. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Anything with Chase was a bad idea. When my last boyfriend and I broke up, we both went our separate ways without it affecting any of our friends. His friends weren’t my friends and vice versa. Anything with Chase would be a bad idea because we shared the same friends. I wasn’t into complicated. I definitely wasn’t into the awkward that might, and probably would, ensue once he and I went our separate ways. And we would, because for me there was no forever or happy-ever-afters. That kind of thing wasn’t in my future.

Except as I walked away, even while making a conscious effort to not look in Chase’s direction . . . I did.

Chapter Nine

I’d survived the canoe trip catastrophe, managed to suffer through the rest of the weekend activities, and made it back home to running water, electricity, and air conditioning—where I was achingly thankful to once again be surrounded by my electronics. My recliner chair was deep and comfy, and I’d settled into it with my laptop, so startled by the spark of inspiration that hit me that I clung to it and wrote through the night.

It was now Monday morning, and the surfaces of my eyes were gritty, like sandpaper. I rubbed them with fingertips numb from exhaustion. The sun poured through the window blinds and my head throbbed. There was no way I’d make it in to work until I got at least four hours of sleep.

I was ready for bed now; my body was as numb as my brain was fuzzy.

The phone rang. Even though it was only a few steps away, it was too far. I sat in my chair, staring at the light blinking blue on the console with each ring. The phone clicked over to voicemail and my mother’s voice came on:
I don’t know where you are, but I’ve been calling you for days.

That was it. She hung up.

Despite being bone tired, my lips curled into a weak smile.

She had only called me once, yesterday. The first time in three weeks. The
for days
was an exaggeration, as was typical of my mother. I was pretty sure it was a Filipino thing. At least, it was true of my mother and her sister. The two of them thrived on dramatics. I may have inherited a bit of it, myself.

The pads of my feet
thumped
against the wood floor as I slugged across the room. I’d always been a heavy walker. My mother used to tell me I sounded like an elephant moving through the house—graceful wasn’t one of my attributes. Pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose, I plucked the phone out of its cradle.

I dialed her number and she picked up on the second ring. She’d probably been sitting there beside her phone, tapping her acrylic fingernails while she waited impatiently for me to call her back. She might’ve been timing me, even. Now that she’d finally gotten a smartphone she was all about apps.

She sighed into the phone. “Roxanna Leigh, why don’t you answer your phone when I call? Are you ignoring me?”

Her thick Filipino accent made her irritation even more pronounced.

“Maybe you should call me more often.”

“I’m your mother,” she said, incredulous. “You should call
me
to make sure I’m not dead.”

“I was camping. It was horrible. I was busy trying to survive the mosquito bites.”

“
Eh,
why would you go camping?”

“Gen and Lexie kidnapped me.” Smiling, I shifted the phone to my other ear—my arms were too tired to hold the phone up. “And, you’re not dead, so that’s good. What’s up?”

She huffed. “It’s your aunt. She’s driving me crazy.”

I glanced at the clock. It was only seven a.m. in San Diego. “She’s driving you crazy this early in the day? What are you two fighting about now?”

They were always bickering about something. My mother was the more responsible of the two, which didn’t say much for my aunt.

“That Coach purse you bought me for Mother’s Day? You know the one? With the buckles?”

I remembered it well. Not only had she sent me pictures of the purse for two months in advance of Mother’s Day, but every time I spoke with her on the phone she mentioned how she hadn’t had a new purse in months, maybe even a year. Another exaggeration—she bought purses like I bought shoes.

“Yes, I remember.”

“She bought one in the same color.”

“You’re sisters. It’s cute to match.” I grinned and pictured my mother’s jaw hanging wide.

She gasped. “That is tacky.”

“Cute and tacky.”

“She is always trying to outdo me. I’m so sick of it.”

“I don’t know where you two find the money to compete when you have a shopping problem and Aunt Maria has a gambling problem.”

“That is no way to talk to your mother.” She sniffed. “I born you.”

Whenever she got worked up, her accent thickened.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said with a grin. “But that doesn’t change the fact you shop too much.”

My mother had a spending habit to rival both the royals and the United States government. I sometimes wondered if that hadn’t been a big issue between her and my dad.

“So how’s everyone?” I asked. My stomach grumbled. I hadn’t eaten since supper last night.

“Your cousin is getting married.”

I straightened, wondering if I’d heard her right. “What?”

“Your cousin is getting married,” my mother repeated.

“Lucky didn’t say anything to me. I just talked to her a couple of days ago.” With the phone to my ear, I left the office and trudged to the kitchen.
Maybe I’d have a banana and a glass of milk

“You called your cousin and you didn’t call me?” Her annoyance was loud and clear through the phone.

The light from the refrigerator was bright when I opened the door, and I squinted. “I had to ask her a question.” No milk. I shut the door and collapsed into a chair at the table. “I wonder why she didn’t tell me she’s engaged. I haven’t even met her boyfriend.”

“It’s because you don’t care about us. A year, Roxanna. That’s how long it’s been since you visited.”

Another one of my mother’s guilt trips. “Yeah, yeah. I do work, you know. You’re the one who travels all over the world. You could fit in a visit to your only daughter.”

“How is the writing? When will your book be in a store so I can show my friends? None of them believe you’re published.”

My mother hadn’t grasped the concept that finding an agent to push my novels wasn’t the same as having a publishing contract. She assumed I would be a renowned author any day now. My dad, however, didn’t think of it as any more than a hobby. I was dead set on proving how wrong he was. I hadn’t told them I had an offer already, because all they’d hear were the contingencies, which I hadn’t met yet. After last night, though, I had hope again. A week of writing like last night, and I’d have those chapters to send to my agent.

It was easiest for me just to tell my mother
soon
when it came to my writing. It was what she wanted to hear anyway, no matter what the truth was.

“I’ll let you know as soon as my agent lets me know. Can you tell Lucky to call me?”

My cousin hated her name. Her mom thought it was cute, and due to the culture disconnect, she didn’t understand that throwing a pretty Asian girl into the snake pit of teenager-dom with the name Lucky was like signing her prison sentence. My cousin had spent most of her teenage years being teased endlessly by the mean girls at school. She had a variety of eccentricities, all of which had been the inspiration for the paranormal series I now wrote.

“I’m not sure she’ll have time to call you. She’s always with
that boy.
”

My mother and aunt didn’t approve of Lucky’s boyfriend. Mostly because he wasn’t rich. I wasn’t sure why neither of them believed their daughters were capable of taking care of themselves. Lucky didn’t share my aversion to marriage, so one day she’d find The One, get married, settle down, and give her mom grandbabies. The fact that I had no interest in marriage and having kids gave my mother anxiety and heartburn. I’d never tell her that hearing her and dad fighting every night for years, and then listening to her cry every night for months after he left, had scarred me.

“There’s nothing wrong with Tyler.”

“He doesn’t work. How will he buy her a house?”

“He does work. He’s an artist.”

“An artist who makes no money,”

“I’m a writer who makes no money from it,” I argued.

The phone went silent. After a moment, she said, “Yes, well, your dad and I talked about this. If you’re not making money after a year, you’re going to get a real job.”

“A real job, as in joining his company?” I glared at the floor.

When my dad left for Las Vegas, I hadn’t understood what he was going for, or why he needed to go without me. After a few years, and culinary critics raving about Chef Mario’s inspired dishes, my dad’s one restaurant turned into two. Ten years after he left, he had restaurants all over the United States. He was a busy man, my mother always told me, and he took care of us, she’d say in his defense, but those words hadn’t made up for the fact that growing up, I’d needed my dad.

“You’ll never have to worry about money, Roxanna.” By the tone of her voice, there was no room for argument.

“Mother, I have a job. I’m going to be a PI. That’s what I’m training for. I’ve already got my own cases. And I’m writing now. Someday, I’ll make money from that too. I am
happy
with what I’m doing. I love my job.” I needed sleep. Conversations with her wore me out.

“Women do not work as investigators.”

“Yes, they do.” This was an argument I would not win. Talking to her most times was like talking to a wall.

“It’s not safe for you.”

“If it wasn’t safe, Leo and Uncle Leone wouldn’t let me do it, and you know that.” I sighed. “Really. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m not out chasing the bond skips, and they don’t put me on the big cases with the bad guys. I mostly take pictures.”