Jennifer Drew – Hitched For The Holidays: Hitched For The Holidays / A Groom In Her Stocking (страница 9)

“Pretending you turn me on?” His teeth actually sparkled when he smiled like that.

“Be serious. This has gotten too complicated. Either I have to tell my father the truth, or we break up.”

“Here? Now?”

He looked across the room where a sallow-faced teenager was holding his arm over his chest. Beside him a gaunt woman with flamboyant hennaed hair quickly averted her eyes when Eric looked at her. Apparently she found them more entertaining than the talkie Sunday intellectuals on the tube.

“What do we do?” he asked. “Yell at each other, stage a fight? What’s my motivation in this scene?”

“I’ll just tell Dad it wasn’t working between us.”

“How will you get home from the hospital if I leave?”

“Cab,” she suggested listlessly. “Or I can call my friend, Laurie Davis. She’s not doing anything today.”

“I’ll take you and your dad home.”

“It really would be easier if we split up before Dad’s done here.”

“We’re not going to now. You dad is going home tomorrow. Let him leave happy. You’ll meet someone eventually. That’s the time to tell him it didn’t work out between us.”

“I don’t like taking advantage of you. If Dad weren’t so darn pushy…”

“He is who he is.”

Easy for him to say, she thought glumly.

“He’ll expect you to stay for dinner,” she warned.

“Can you cook?”

“We brought home lots of leftovers from yesterday’s dinner.”

“How about ordering Chinese?”

“Dad won’t eat it. Might have MSG in it.”

“Mexican?”

“Too spicy.”

“Pizza? He does eat pizza, doesn’t he?”

“Thick crust with Canadian bacon and mushrooms. Green peppers give him heartburn.”

“Is he your real father?” he asked with a grin.

“So I’ve been led to believe. Fortunately he’s kind, generous, loyal, honest and all those other Boy Scout virtues except when he’s trying to run my life.”

“I sorta like him myself. Tell me he watches basketball.”

“He’s still mad at the Suns because they’re out of town this weekend.”

“Well, love,” he said, doing the worst English accent she’d ever heard, “I really don’t think there’s anything here we can’t bloody well handle.”

4

“DAD, GOOD NEWS,” Mindy said Monday morning when her father thumped out of the guest room on sturdy wooden crutches rented from the hospital.

“Is the dog tied up?” he asked. “I’m rusty on crutches and I don’t want to be tripped again. I haven’t used these things since I tore up my knee playing high school basketball.”

“Peaches is outside on her line, but now that she’s used to you, she’ll be calmer. You don’t need to worry.”

He grunted and plopped down at the kitchen table where his coffee was waiting.

“Now what’s the good news?” he asked.

She knew what he wanted to hear, something to do with engagement rings, wedding bells, more grandchildren.

“I called the airport. There’s no problem getting a wheelchair. You can go from my van to the door of the plane without setting foot on the floor. So far they expect your plane to be on schedule. I’ll take care of baggage and everything, and Dwight will be there to meet you at the Pittsburgh airport. Even the weather is cooperating, so it should be a smooth flight.”

“I don’t want to be pushed around like a feeble old man,” he grumbled.

“It’s too far to walk on a sprained ankle. The doctor said it’s important to stay off it.”

“I plan to. I called the airline and canceled my ticket. I’d rather wait for my ankle to heal before flying home. It’ll cost me fifty dollars to reschedule, but it’s worth it to get to know your boyfriend better.”

“Dad! I’d love to see more of you, but you’ll be bored silly sitting around here alone. I do have to work. It’s my busy season.”

This was very bad news. How could she continue the fantasy about having a boyfriend until Dad’s ankle healed?

“You do whatever you need to. Don’t worry about me. I can entertain myself. You’ve got a computer and a TV I can use, and there must be a bookstore somewhere in the area. I’ll give you a list of books I’ve been wanting to read.”

She couldn’t say, Dad, go home, you make me crazy. She loved him, but she couldn’t continue seeing Eric. It wasn’t fair to him, and she was embarrassed enough already.

“You’ll miss your only grandson’s birthday Wednesday,” she reminded him.

“Sam will only be three. He won’t care when I present my stack of presents, and I’ll get out of going to the party Carly has planned at Bucko’s Pizza Palace. Have you ever been to one of their birthday orgies? Corny clowns, noisy game machines, kids screaming and running.” He shuddered. “I went to Kim’s fifth-birthday party there. A sledge hammer couldn’t give me a worse headache.”

“You love sharing your grandchildren’s big events,” she said. “Cake, candles, hugs and kisses for Grandpa.”

“The nice thing about retirement,” he said, speaking from his weeks of experience, “is I have plenty of time for the grandkids plus time to get to know my future son-in-law better.”

“Dad, we’re not that serious!”

“I know chemistry when I see it,” he said smugly. He started leafing through the TV listings, and she dejectedly began her day.

BY MIDMORNING Mindy was the one with a headache. She had to check with the woman who was catering the Robinson family Thanksgiving reunion, twenty-two people and counting, then run to the party store outlet for orange napkins and table decorations. After that, she had to meet a new client at two and make sure the carpenter had come back to finish the shelves in Mrs. Konkle’s home office. People paid her to worry, and she was good at it.

Unfortunately, with her dad dropping his bomb on her head, she couldn’t concentrate anymore. How could she work with her father in the house? Even before she left to run errands, he was busily using her computer to e-mail everyone he knew, however slightly. She could bump him, of course, but then what would he do all day? She remembered his book list and tried to figure out a time for a library trip. No point in buying thirteen books unless they weren’t available to borrow.

“I have to talk to Eric,” she said resolutely to herself.

The bogus romance had to end. Telling her father it was a hoax was no longer an option, not when he’d be there with her day and night expressing his disappointment with sad, mournful pronouncements. He took her single status as a personal affront because she rejected his opinion of it. He refused to believe she was happy the way she was and in no hurry to rush into a relationship just to satisfy him.

She dialed Eric’s office on her cell phone while she waited her turn to drive through a construction area. How she loathed those two-sided signs carried by the bored workers who reduced a four-lane road to one lane. There seemed to be a rule that the busiest lane had to wait the longest.

“Kincaid Veterinary Practice,” Della answered. “How may I help you?”

“Della, it’s Mindy Ryder. I desperately need to talk to the doctor.”

“Sorry, honey, he’s in the middle of a procedure. I can have him call you when office hours are over.”

“No, I need to talk to him now.”

“Has something happened to Peaches?” Della remembered pet names better than most people remembered people names.

“No, she’s fine. What about lunch? When does he take a lunch break?”

Traffic in Mindy’s lane started inching forward.

“I never know for sure. Sometimes he runs upstairs for a bite. Other days he’s so busy he just skips it.”

“Can you work me in anytime today?” She’d pay for an office visit if that was the only to talk to him.

“It must be really important.”

Della was curious. This was good. No doubt she remembered giving Eric the directions to her house.