The Bachelor's Brighton Valley Bride (Return to Brighton Valley) (8 page)

“How many calls have you received?”

“I’ve lost count.”

“Sorry about that. I forgot how quickly word spreads in a small town. And since I rode to the medical center with Don, I’ve been out of the loop.”

“I know. Ray Mendez, the mayor, told me that Mr. Carpenter was taken to the hospital in an ambulance.”

“The
mayor
told you? How did he know about Don?”

“He’d talked to Caroline earlier, and she gave him my number. He placed an order for three laptops—two for city hall and one for his home. Then, after stopping by someplace called the Stagecoach Inn, where he met the E.R. doctor’s husband, he found out about Mr. Carpenter.”

“I had no idea—”

“You didn’t? At a hundred dollars a pop for that laptop? In the last two hours, I’ve talked to more people in that little town than you probably did in all the time you lived there.”

Clay had never told anyone, especially those who knew him now, about his shy, awkward and painful teenage years. But Zoe was probably right.

He ran a hand through his hair, mentally calculating how much profit he had blown by making that offer to Riley yesterday. Maybe he should’ve stuck with Megan’s cookie idea.

“Did you approve the sale for everyone who called?” he asked.

“Sure did. That’s what you asked me to do, wasn’t it? And so far I’ve put through all thirty-two orders.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I tried to call you to double-check, but you didn’t answer your phone. So I just rolled with the plan you’d set in motion.”

“No, you did the right thing. In the chaos of the 911 call and everything, Megan used my cell phone. She’s had it while I’ve been at the hospital.”

“So then she must have seen that Collette’s been hot on your trail this afternoon, too.”

Crap. Clay had forgotten about the text from Collette. He hoped Megan wasn’t nosy enough to read his messages. Or maybe she wouldn’t even care that another woman was sending him sexy invitations to reignite a relationship that had fizzled out months ago. But he’d need to deal with the supermodel before she became a problem.

“What did you tell Collette?” Clay asked, even though his assistant was the epitome of discretion and was under strict instructions not to divulge his whereabouts to anyone.

“I stalled her for the time being. But you know how she is. If you don’t call her back yourself, she’ll be in the office first thing tomorrow morning, paparazzi trailing behind her, demanding to know where you are.”

Zoe hit the nail on the head. As usual. Clay had first met the world-famous Collette d’Ante at a black-tie fund-raiser where he’d been the guest of honor. She’d moved in swiftly, letting him know she’d like to be more than a casual acquaintance.

He’d never had such a beautiful woman hit on him, and when she asked him out for an intimate dinner later that week, he’d agreed.

Collette had implied that she hated the fame and attention her career had attracted, and he’d thought he’d found a kindred spirit since he was on his own quest for financial success with social anonymity.

But when the paparazzi showed up at every restaurant or event they attended, no matter what he did to circumvent them, he realized they were being tipped off. And shortly thereafter, he’d realized that Collette, who made such sweet claims, hadn’t meant any of them. So he’d ended things with her before she got any ideas about becoming the first Mrs. Geekon Enterprises.

But apparently, she was under the impression that absence really did make the heart grow fonder, which wasn’t true in Clay’s case. She was too self-absorbed and way more trouble than she was worth.

And as Zoe had said, if he didn’t call her himself and tell her that
it’s over
meant over for good, she’d have every tabloid wolfhound scenting him out by tomorrow afternoon.

“I’ll deal with Collette. You handle the rest of the Brighton Valley laptop orders. I’ll cover the difference out of my own pocket. But no more sales after today.”

“Will you also cover the difference for all the overtime I’m going to make taking these calls tonight?”

“Zoe, you don’t get overtime. You’re on salary—and a very generous one, at that.”

“Okay, then you can just put it on my Fourth of July bonus check.”

“You don’t get a Fourth of—”

“Sorry, boss. There’s a call on the other line—no doubt with another laptop order coming in. Gotta go.”

The line disconnected before Clay could tell Zoe he also wanted to schedule a meeting with the person in charge of the company health-insurance plans. Oh, well, that would have to wait until tomorrow.

At the sound of shoes clicking upon the tiled hospital floor, he looked up to see Megan coming his way, her back straight and her chin up. Yet there was a lingering tension in her shoulders. This had to have been a stressful day for her.

Was she still afraid the corporate office would find out about Don’s failures and the store’s financial situation?

He wanted to rub those shoulders and tell her everything was going to be all right, that he’d make sure of it.

The smile she shot him was sweet and genuine, even if it was a little tired. “Ready?”

He was more than ready and wanted to tell her so, but he thought better of it. She was just offering to give him a ride back to the shop because she knew he was stranded—and because she was a nurturer. What else did he expect from a woman like her?

“Yep, all set.” He pocketed his phone and raised his arms up to stretch out his own shoulders and back.

Man, he could use a good run right now. And then a hot meal and a long sleep.

As they walked toward the elevator, an orderly turned the corner pushing an empty bed, and Clay instinctively reached out and wrapped his hand around Megan’s waist to pull her to the opposite side of the hallway.

She pressed into his side to allow the gurney room to pass. It seemed only natural to let his hand linger on her waist as they continued to the elevator door, his fingers resting along the curve of her hip.

She wore a blue sweater now. Underneath, was she still wearing the green blouse with the buttons that popped open?

It would be so easy to slip his hand underneath that blue woven fabric to feel for the green top that had given him such a lovely view earlier today.

When she leaned forward to push the call button, their bodies broke free from each other, which was for the best. If they were going to have to work alone together for the next week or so, he’d need to keep his hands and his eyes to himself.

They took the elevator to the lobby, where the after-work crowd had begun to stream into the hospital for visiting hours.

“If you haven’t picked up groceries yet for the apartment, I can stop at the market on the way back so you’ll have something to eat.”

“Don’t worry about me. You probably need to get home to your kids and feed them.”

“Actually, my kids are with Caroline. She watches them for me whenever I need a sitter. I called earlier, and she’s probably already fed them.”

“Have you had dinner yet?” Clay asked, trying to sound casual, as though he was merely asking her if she’d done the biology homework last night.

He didn’t want her to think he was asking her out on a date. Yet, more importantly, he didn’t want her to turn him down.

As they walked through the sliding glass doors and into the parking lot, he reached up to push his nonexistent glasses back up his nose before he remembered he wasn’t in high school anymore.

Hell, he had Collette d’Ante chasing after him, wanting to re-create some kind of relationship for all the world to see, but here he was, stumbling over his own feet in his attempt to get Megan to join him for dinner.

“No, I’ve been too worried about Don to eat anything. The hospital cafeteria is probably still open, if you want to go back in there.”

Clay had spent enough time in hospitals when he was a kid and his mother had bounced in and out of mental institutions. He tried to avoid them as much as possible, especially the cafeterias.

“Or we could stop by the Tastee Cone before I drop you off back at Zorba’s.”

Now, that was a blast from the past. The Tastee Cone, which was located between Brighton Valley and Wexler, had been the only fast-food joint around. So by default it was the hangout of choice for the local teenagers who had a few extra allowance dollars burning a hole in their pockets.

Clay had always enjoyed their food, but he’d never parked in the lot with the cool kids and their tricked-out cars and lifted trucks, blasting music, flirting with each other and chatting about who was taking who to homecoming.

“That sounds good,” he said. “But can we just eat there? I really don’t want to take anything to go.”

The truth was, Clay actually wanted to experience the Tastee Cone for once—just as all the popular kids had done back in the day. He wanted to sit out in the parking lot with a beautiful girl—who, he was willing to bet his Geekon trademark, had once been a cheerleader. And he wanted to drink an orange cream milkshake, listen to music and not have to worry about some football captain smashing a chocolate-dipped cone into his forehead, which was what had happened last time he’d braved the Tastee Cone during prime time.

“Sure,” she said as she popped the locks open on her car and they got in. “But that place can be crawling with teenagers, especially since today was the last day of school before summer vacation. There’ll be lots of music and revving of engines and all the stuff small-town kids do to show off in front of each other.”

Clay was counting on it. That’s what he’d missed in high school. And sweet, beautiful Megan would be right by his side.

As they drove down the rural highway that connected the two towns, he could almost imagine her in a cheerleader uniform, doing backflips, shaking her pom-poms....

They turned into the driveway entrance, and she pulled her car up to one of the covered parking spaces, where they could place their orders through the old-fashioned speaker system that was stationed at every other parking spot.

A couple of boys in the car next to them honked and yelled out to three girls who wore Brighton Valley High Pep Squad T-shirts.

“This place reminds me of high school,” Megan said.

“I have to ask,” Clay said. “Were you a cheerleader?”

She stared at him for a moment, her brow slightly scrunched as if wondering why he’d ask, why it would even matter.

“Yes,” she finally said. “How’d you know?”

He’d crushed after the type long enough that he could just tell. But he didn’t dare admit it to her. Instead he smiled and said, “I don’t know. It was just a guess.”

She seemed to stew on that for a moment, as though she wasn’t sure if she should take his assessment as a compliment or not. So he tried to brush it all aside by moving on to something safer. “What do you want to eat?”

Megan ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and an unsweetened iced tea, while Clay chose the Double Tastee Burger, fries and an orange cream shake.

“Did you grow up around here?” he asked.

“No, I actually grew up outside of Houston, but when my dad died, my mom moved me and my younger brother back here to live with Gram out at her orchard. I transferred to Brighton Valley High my sophomore year.”

“Did you like school?” Clay figured she must have. The popular kids usually did. It was those who hadn’t fit in who’d struggled with attendance.

“It was okay, I guess. I liked the social aspects. But when I was in elementary school, I was diagnosed with dyslexia. So I hated it back then.”

“You seem to have overcome your disability,” he said.

“Yes, for the most part—and with time and the learning lab at the high school. But when I was Lisa’s age, money was tight for our family and there was never any extra for tutoring. That’s why I’m determined to provide the help she needs. And the extra hours I work at Zorba’s is one way I can afford to do that.”

Thank goodness he hadn’t followed his gut and fired her when he’d first arrived.

A waitress on roller skates brought out their order and Clay reached for his wallet while Megan protested. “Nope, you bought lunch today. Dinner is on me.”

Then, after picking up the tab, she laid out napkins and ketchup packets and put the straw in his milkshake—just as she would have done for one of her kids. Somehow it made him feel taken care of. Doted on.

He bit into his double cheeseburger, which tasted better than anything in the world, simply because this particular beautiful woman sat next to him, and he finally belonged.

At least the guy pretending to be Peyton Johnson belonged. Clay didn’t know where
he
fit in, but he would just enjoy the juicy burger, the gorgeous redhead and the curious—maybe even envious—stares from the teenagers around him.

“So you’ve lived in Brighton Valley ever since high school?” Clay asked, wanting to know more about her.

“No, actually I came back after my divorce. And now that I’m here, I don’t ever intend to leave.”

“Going away was a bad experience?”

“You could say that. The entire marriage was a bad experience. But I only have myself to blame.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really. Let’s just say it was a blessed mistake and an unfortunate learning experience.”

When he looked at her in confusion, she went on. “I love Tyler more than life itself, but let’s just say that he came a little too early.”

“Ah. I see.” And Clay actually did. His friend Rick had gotten his girlfriend, Mallory, pregnant back in high school. It had ended well for them—they’d finally reunited ten years after the fact. But there’d been a lot of hard lessons and rough patches along the way.

“Mine is a classic story,” Megan said. “Good-girl cheerleader dates captain of the football team and ends up pregnant. Football Captain grudgingly marries Cheerleader because his rich granddaddy says he has to. Cheerleader gives marriage her best try but Football Captain can’t commit and leaves her and their two kids for a wealthy cougar. Then Football Captain and Cougar ride off into the sunset in her white Mercedes, never to be heard from again. That’s my marital experience in a nutshell.”