Carter Bravo's Christmas Bride. Christine Rimmer
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“Sherry, I...” He really wanted to ask her to please get off the hood and be careful while she was doing it. But showing concern for the paint job right at that moment would only send her through the roof.
Her pout started to get kind of pinched looking. “What is the matter with you? I missed you. I’m here in this smelly garage of yours practically naked and it’s all for you.” The big blue eyes suddenly brimmed with fat tears. “I’m here to get past this little problem we’ve been having. I’m here to prove to you how much I want to work things out.”
There was nothing to work out. They were done and she knew it, had been done for months now.
He spotted her black trench coat. She’d tossed it on top of the cover she’d whipped off the Firebird. So he stuck his rag back in his pocket, crossed to the coat, grabbed it and held it up for her. “Sherry, come on.”
She sniffled. “How can you be so cold? You’re breaking my heart. How can you do this to me?”
“Put your coat on,” he coaxed.
“Fine. Sure.” Sharp heels digging in, she scrambled off the hood. He tried really hard not to wince at the sight. She tossed her hair some more. And then she came at him, hands raised in frustration. “I hate you, Carter Bravo!”
“Sherry, there’s no point in—”
“Hate you!” And she hauled back and bitch-slapped him right across the face. That shocked him. She’d never physically attacked him before.
Then all the fight went out of her. She crumpled, burying her head in her hands. The sobs started.
He gently wrapped the coat around her. “It’s over,” he said quietly. “You know it is.”
She sobbed harder. “But I love you...”
He took her to the counter at the window between the shop and the office and whipped a few tissues from the box there. “Come on, now. Blow your nose.”
She snatched the tissues and swiped at her cheeks.
He said sincerely, “I’m sorry, Sherry. For everything. Let me drive you home.”
“Forget it.” With a furious sniff, she shoved her arms in the trench he’d draped on her shoulders and tied the belt, hard. Then she raked her acres of hair off her face and aimed her chin high. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He had no idea what to say next, so he said nothing. She wheeled on one of those pointy heels and stalked toward the side door, flinging it wide when she got there. That door was made of steel. It banged good and loud against the wall. “That does it, Carter. I am through. Finished. I hope I never see your face again.”
He kept his mouth shut. He had a feeling that even the sound of his voice right then could have her storming at him all over again. Uh-uh. Better to keep quiet and stand still.
At his extended silence, she fisted both hands at her sides, threw her head back and let out a yowl of frustration. A second later, she disappeared from sight.
Carter stayed right where he was, hardly daring to breathe, until he heard the Camaro he’d rebuilt for her start up. She gunned it and then roared from the lot. He gritted his teeth, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t run into anything, wouldn’t hurt herself or anyone else.
As the sound of the engine faded into the distance, he let himself breathe again. And then, reluctantly, he took a good look at the Firebird.
Yep. Dents and gouges all over that hood. Resigned, he whipped the cover back in place. Monday, he’d get it back to the paint booth and tell the customer he’d need a few more days before the car would be ready.
It would be okay. Sherry would get over him and eventually move on.
He just wished he knew what was wrong with him. He just wished he could someday find a sane woman to get involved with. His mother had it right about one thing. He’d always known that someday he wanted a family.
Well, the years were going by. And someday was starting to look a whole lot like never. But what the hell was a guy supposed to do? He’d tried over and over and it always ended up the way it had with Sherry. This time, he had zero desire to find someone else and try again.
Paige had a great day shopping in Denver with Carter’s sisters and sister-in-law. She found a bunch of fabulous deals, giving her a serious head start on her Christmas list. The stores were all decked out for the holidays, and Christmas music filled the air, so the day really kind of put her in the holiday spirit. It was good to get out of town and it helped her achieve a little much-needed perspective.
She realized she needed to stop avoiding Carter. It wasn’t his fault if she’d suddenly started thinking she might be in love with him—might being the operative word.
It was a magazine quiz, for God’s sake. What fool took a magazine quiz seriously?
The next morning, there he was as usual when she came downstairs. Her heart leaped at the sight of his handsome face and sexy smile. She thought of how good he was to her and her sister, showing up to walk the dog and fix the breakfast even when she’d been avoiding him for days. That made her misty-eyed.
But Paige didn’t let a leaping heart or misty eyes keep her from trying harder that morning. She made an effort to join the conversation, remembering to thank him, to praise his cooking and his coffee. More than once, she caught him glancing her way, questions in his eyes.
She waited until Dawn went back upstairs to call Molly and make plans for their Saturday, before she said, “I’m sorry I’ve been moody the last few days. Hormones. They drive me crazy sometimes.” Yeah, it was a stretch. But not a total lie. She had been on her period.
“But you’re okay now?” He looked so hopeful.
She promised him that she was. He poured himself more coffee, sat down beside her—and his cell rang. It was Mona, already at the shop, with some unexpected issue that needed his okay.
He said he’d be right over and hung up. “Gotta go. You coming in today?”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Paige had Saturdays off. Mona took Mondays and they were closed Sundays.
He was already reaching for his jacket. “Talk later? We’ve got lots to catch up on.”
Paige answered him vaguely, “Yeah. Later. Sounds good.” Did that mean he’d be over that evening? Was she ready for that? And speaking of talking, she needed to talk to someone about all this, get her head on straight when it came to Carter—and keep it that way.
He clicked his tongue for Sally. “Come on, girl. Time to go.” Leveling those clear green eyes on her, he said softly, “Glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks.” She gave him her brightest smile.
Sally at his heels, he left through the back door. Biscuit watched them go from his favorite throw rug at the end of the snack bar, dropping his head to his paws when they were out of sight.
With a grim little sigh, Paige got up and started clearing the table. She was busy wiping counters when Dawn reappeared, fully dressed this time in jeans and a thick blue sweater patterned with a band of snowflakes across the front.
“Molly’s coming over in half an hour. We’re going to practice together for the Christmas concert.” They were both in the school band and in the orchestra, Paige on B-flat clarinet, Molly on flute.
Paige tossed the sponge in the sink—and made a decision. Dawn might be only eighteen, but she had a level head on her shoulders. Paige trusted her absolutely. Who better to confide in than her own sister?
Half an hour should be plenty of time.
Dawn