8 Sandpiper Way. Debbie Macomber
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those inside the tavern.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a none-too-friendly voice. Her lack of welcome was part shock, part feigned anger.
“I came to check on you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she protested. “Did Teri and Bobby send you?” That would be just like her sister.
“No.”
“I don’t believe it.” Christie knew that Teri and Bobby wouldn’t have missed her yesterday; they’d invited plenty of friends to their Thanksgiving dinner party. Having to be at work so early this morning was a convenient excuse. Not that she’d given anyone the opportunity to question her about it. She’d stayed home all day and hadn’t answered her phone, although it must have rung a dozen times.
“You didn’t come to dinner.”
“So? I didn’t realize you were keeping tabs.” She kept the derision in her voice so he wouldn’t think she cared about his opinion of her. An opinion he would no doubt divulge any second now.
There it was. “You were rude to let your sister down.”
“So now I’m rude,” she muttered. “And you’re an expert on polite behavior?” Actually, he was, and he rightly ignored her question.
“Miss Teri held off serving dinner while she tried to reach you,” he said.
Christie felt bad about that, although she wouldn’t let James know. “What’s it got to do with you?” she asked flippantly.
“You aren’t usually a rude person, Christie.”
“Apparently I proved you wrong.”
“You stayed away because of me, didn’t you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she responded, although of course he was right. She’d skipped Teri’s Thanksgiving event for fear of another rejection from James. Instead of feasting on a turkey dinner at her sister’s, she’d eaten a microwave pizza and watched reruns of Seinfeld for three hours straight.
“Is that why you’re here? To criticize me? If so, message received. Can I go now?” she asked as though she’d grown bored with the conversation. Her ears were getting cold, even if her heart was pounding unmercifully fast.
“I’d like to apologize,” James said.
“For what? Embarrassing me in front of my friends just now?”
“No.” He paused. “For the other night.”
“What other night?” she asked, pretending that his hurtful words had no impact on her, that she’d forgotten whatever he’d said. In reality, it was something she’d never forget.
“Last month. You came to me—”
“Oh, that,” she returned breezily. “Hey, don’t worry about it. You didn’t want me around. I understand. It’s not a problem—at least not for me.”
He frowned, shaking his head. “I didn’t want your sympathy. Or anyone’s,” he added in a lower voice.
“Do I look like the sympathetic sort?” she asked, making a joke of it. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.” She forced a laugh and with it came a loud hiccup, which mortified her.
“You’ve been drinking?”
“No.” She did an exaggerated double-take. “You think I sat in The Pink Poodle and drank?“
“I’ll drive you home.”
“Absolutely not.” She’d had two beers over the course of as many hours. She was perfectly capable of driving herself home.
“Christie …”
“I said no.” She wasn’t going to put up with any more of his disapproval. “Just leave me alone. You don’t want to see me and that’s fine, because I don’t want to see you, either. Do I need to make it any clearer than that?”
He turned away, then seemed to change his mind. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, wrenching open her car door, which to her intense embarrassment made a loud groaning noise. She should’ve taken it to the repair shop, but hadn’t—because of the inconvenience and, more than that, the bill. A squeaking door was the least of her problems with this vehicle. It was on its last legs—or tires.
Rather than stand in the cold arguing with James, Christie climbed inside her car and started the engine. Thankfully it didn’t die right then and there, as she’d half expected. That would’ve made her humiliation complete.
Without looking behind her, she backed out of the parking place and pulled into the street.
One glance in her rearview mirror told her that James had pulled in directly behind her. He followed her all the way to the apartment complex and waited there until she’d parked. Even then he didn’t leave.
Christie was tempted to march over and demand he stop following her. Otherwise, she’d threaten to call the authorities and get a restraining order. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d filed one against a man.
But she decided not to let on that she’d noticed him. She hurried into her apartment and slammed the door, breathing hard. Several minutes passed before she regained her composure. The first thing she saw in the dark room was the light blinking on her answering machine.
Five calls, all of them from Teri. Her sister was determined to leave messages until she phoned back. Still, Christie resisted. Teri was bound to lecture her for not coming to Thanksgiving dinner.
After ten minutes she couldn’t stand it anymore and grabbed the phone. Teri answered after two rings.
“Okay, go ahead and be mad,” Christie greeted her sister. “Yell at me and get it over with.”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?” Teri asked.
“Because I didn’t show up yesterday.”
Teri sighed. “And we both know the reason for that.”
“I had to be to work at six this morning.”
“Bzzz.” Teri imitated an annoying buzzer sound. “Wrong answer. You didn’t show up because you were afraid to face James.”
No use trying to fool her sister.
“He came looking for me tonight,” Christie confessed.
“I know. How’d it go?”
Christie closed her eyes, debating how much to tell her. “Not good.”
“What happened?”
She settled for the plain, unvarnished truth; Teri was going to find out, anyway. “He … tried to apologize but … I wouldn’t let him.”
“Christie,” her sister said, “I thought you liked James.”
Like was such a mild word for the way she felt about him. “I do,” she whispered, wondering why she went to such lengths to prove the opposite.
“Then why did you—Oh, never mind, I know why. I did the same thing with Bobby. When he first showed interest in me, I did everything I could to chase him off. I thank God every day that he didn’t listen. What’s wrong with us, little sister, that we don’t recognize love when it comes knocking at our door?”
“James doesn’t love me—”
“Stop right this minute,” Teri said. “He cares about you—a lot.”
“If that’s the case, then why did he send me away when he was hurt?” she cried, unable to disguise her pain. “I wanted to be with him.”
“He was embarrassed, Christie. Surely you can understand. He didn’t want you