It's In His Arms (A Red River Valley Novel Book 4) Page 11

  “It just came on the market earlier this week.” She tried to sound personable yet professional. That was her job. She’d show him cabins for as long as it took for him to find something that felt like his. And somewhere in the process she had to work up the nerve to bring up the kids’ music program.

  She studied him as he wandered around the open floor plan. The brand-new cabin was built out with expensive rustic wood trim still rich with the woodsy scent of newness. Daniel was tall and slender, with sandy-blond hair, and he was dressed smart-casual like he’d just stepped off the cover of a men’s fashion magazine. Perfect.

  For someone else.

  She guided him through the lower level, then over to the wooden staircase that led to a large loft and master suite. “Construction was recently finished. Never lived in.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” Daniel said, following her up the stairs.

  Lorenda felt oddly self-conscious that he was eye level with her rump and resisted the urge to splay both hands across her butt to hide it from view. Her mother seemed to think he was very interested, and she had all but insisted that Lorenda throw herself at the man. Of course Mom had also fixed Lorenda up with Clifford the maintenance man.

  Always nice when a gal’s mother tried to pimp her out.

  “The cabins I showed you last week were smaller and not as new.” Lorenda reached the upstairs landing and turned left into the open loft. “They didn’t seem to meet your needs. I wanted you to see this one so you could compare the two price ranges.”

  This cabin was more expensive. Larger than most, and on a generous parcel of land. She didn’t like upselling her clients, but if it worked for him, then it was a win-win. The client would be satisfied and happy with his purchase, and she’d get a nice commission. The portion she planned to use for the music program would barely make a dent toward the cost of better equipment and supplies, but it was a start.

  “A place like this is even more beautiful when trimmed out with the right furnishings. I can steer you toward some interior decorators who specialize in decorating vacation cabins to look artful and rustic at the same time.” She led him into the master suite.

  He followed her into the large bedroom, which had a stone fireplace nestled into the corner. “Hiring a decorator would be my choice. I don’t have a lot of time, but I do have the budget to pay someone to do it for me. I’d want it decorated with quality furnishings for entertaining guests.”

  Wow. Every girl’s dream. A man with money who was a sharp dresser and appreciated home furnishings. Too bad she couldn’t stop thinking about the naked alpha guy whose standard wardrobe consisted of combat boots, worn Levi’s, and plain black T-shirts that came in packages of three.

  She opened the large walk-in closet while Daniel checked out the bathroom. When he rejoined her in the bedroom, she said, “It’s a lot of square footage and a lot of acreage for the money, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  He leaned against the wall, bent one knee, and sank both hands into the pockets of his expensive-looking dress pants. The top two buttons of his pinstriped dress shirt were unbuttoned, revealing the hint of a slender but toned chest.

  “I like it. It’s definitely closer to what I’m looking for.” His appreciative gaze drifted over her.

  She swallowed.

  His stare darted to the double French glass doors that opened onto a large redwood deck.

  Great opportunity to change the subject. “The view from this room is spectacular.”

  “It certainly is.” His gaze darted back to her.

  She ignored the tightening in her stomach and motioned for him to follow her onto the deck. “A purchase like this is a big commitment. You may want to think about it.” She shrugged. “And look at it a time or two before making a decision.”

  Was she actually trying to dissuade a sale of this magnitude? What in God’s name was wrong with her? Stupid question, because she knew exactly what was wrong. She didn’t want to give the man the wrong impression. The impression that she wanted more than to be his realtor. The impression that she might be available. The impression that she wasn’t already developing feelings for someone else who happened to share her house and her last name.

  Obviously, she needed to keep her impressions to herself, because she was sounding a little pathetic.

  He turned back toward the doors and propped himself against the railing, crossing his legs at the ankles.

  “Your parents tell me you’re a musician, Lorenda,” he said casually.

  “Um, yes. I am.” She moved to the far side of the deck.

  “And you’re starting a free music program for children?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why haven’t you brought it up? This is our second meeting.” His gray eyes locked onto hers.

  “Well, I—” she stammered. Drew in a breath, and decided to go for honest. “I wanted to keep it professional.”

  He let a few moments of silence go by like he was thinking on that. Finally he nodded. “I understand.”

  He did? Oh thank the Virgin Mary she wouldn’t have to explain that he wasn’t her type. Even though he should be.

  Gah!

  He brushed a fallen leaf aside with a posh leather dress shoe. “Music programs of any kind aren’t cheap. My biggest concern is your lack of experience.”

  He wasn’t the only one. Bart had pointed out that she might need help.

  “But your willingness to do this on a volunteer basis demonstrates your love of music, and I like that.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. Her innate, soul-deep love of music was the reason she needed to do this. She held her breath and waited for him to finish.

  “So I’ll tell you what.”

  What? What!

  “If you can put together a written plan explaining how you intend to build the program and allocate funds, then pull together a concert for the kids using the equipment you already have, I’ll consider putting my support behind your program.”

  “Seriously?” She didn’t mean to sound that unsure of herself, but she couldn’t very well help it.

  He chuckled. “Seriously.”

  “Then let me write this down.” She pulled her cell from the pocket of her soft pink linen blazer and typed his instructions into the notes app.

  “If you really impress me, I’ll do one better. I’ve got a lot of connections in the music world. I’m sure I can line up other sources of support as well.”

  Holy cow. She’d done it. Well, actually she hadn’t done it. Daniel Summerall and her parents had. She hadn’t been able to bring it up because she was scared. Scared he’d get the wrong idea. So she’d kept it all business, and he’d brought it up for her.

  “You have four weeks.”

  Four weeks? She’d need more like four months to pull off what he was asking and do it right.

  “In the meantime—” He looked up at the bright-blue sky, one of his eyes narrowing against the glare. “I’ll probably make another trip up here to look at the cabin again. I do need to think about it.” His gaze slid to her again. “And it’ll give me a chance to get to know you better.”

  Well, sierra. So much for professional.

  “Lorenda.” He straightened. “I don’t believe in coincidence. Meeting your parents”—he smiled—“and meeting you, everything seems to be falling into place like it was meant to be. I believe things happen for a reason to bring life into balance and create harmony in the world.”

  Her lips parted, but Lorenda didn’t know what to say. How to tell him she was taken.

  Maybe because she wasn’t.

  “Here is a link to eHarmony, the world’s most trusted online dating site.” Minx purred to life with her sex-kitten voice. “I hope you find the person you’re looking for.”

  And so much for good impressions.

  Chapter Eleven

  After Lorenda finished up with Daniel, she swung by the office to get some paperwork in order. Staying busy was the key to happiness. Or
denial. She wasn’t sure which, but did it really matter? Until a few weeks ago, her life had been virtually Y chromosome free. Trevor and Jaycee didn’t count because they shared her DNA, and they weren’t old enough to shave. Now she had more adult Y chromosomes vying for her attention than she knew what to do with.

  Bart was dropping in on her rehearsals every day after school. Try as she might, she’d still given a client the wrong idea about her availability. And she’d been skin to skin with Mitchell just hours ago. Which was why she’d retreated to her office instead of going home. She wasn’t sure if she could face him again after almost shagging him in his bathroom this morning.

  Before she knew it, it was late afternoon, and she hadn’t looked up from her desk. Her phone rang, and her mother’s number popped up.

  “Hi, Mom.” Lorenda saved her work and shut down her computer. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was getting so late. Ready for me to pick up the boys?”

  “Absolutely not. They’re fishing with your father, and I’m making dinner. They can stay the night and go to church with us tomorrow morning.”

  In that case, Lorenda could see if her three BFFs, the four of them affectionately dubbed the mommy mafia, wanted to meet her at Joe’s. While she was there, she could try to solicit help for the concert. If she got organized, stayed focused, and suckered enough people into assisting her, she might be able to pull it off.

  “Sooooo, how did it go with Daniel?”

  Lorenda chose to ignore the obvious—her mother wanted to know if things were getting more personal with Mr. Summerall. “It went well. He liked the cabin but wants to think about it. Understandable, considering it’s more than he’d planned to spend. We talked about the music program.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’ve got some work to do before he decides on that too.”

  “Aaaaaand did he make another appointment with you?”

  “He said he’d probably want to look at it again before making a final decision.”

  “Yes!”

  Lorenda could practically hear the fist pump in her mother’s voice.

  “He’s going to ask you out, I’m sure of it,” her mom said.

  Lorenda rolled her eyes. “Exactly how are you sure?”

  “Why else would he keep making appointments to see you?”

  Lorenda eased back in her plush leather executive chair and let her head fall back. “Um, to look at real estate?” Lorenda glanced at the huge glass window of their storefront that had “Brooks Real Estate” scrawled across it. “That’s typically why people make appointments with realtors.”

  “Nonsense. Men are hunters. If they see something they like, they make a decision to buy it right there on the spot. No browsing. No waiting around for something better to come along. Just boom”—her mom made the sound of a gunshot—“they’re done.”

  “Mom, he’s a really nice guy, but he’s not my type.”

  “Oh pishposh,” her mom argued. “How would you know what your type is? You don’t date.”

  “Why are you trying so hard to find me a husband?” Her mother’s matchmaking efforts used to be cute. Until two weeks ago, give or take, when they had become just plain annoying.

  Lorenda told herself the timing was a coincidence and had absolutely nothing to do with the smokin’-hot SEAL who had moved in with her about the same time.

  “Maybe I want more grandchildren.” Her mother sniffed.

  “I’ve already given you two. Go put some pressure on Langston.” Lorenda pushed back, pulled off her pumps, and propped her feet up on the desk.

  Her mother scoffed. “Like that’s a possibility.”

  True. But still. Langston should have to shoulder his share of the parental nagging.

  “How long is Mitchell going to be staying with you, honey? Letting a single man with a bad rep move in with you won’t help your love life.”

  “I don’t have a love life, Mom,” Lorenda ground out.

  “Exactly!”

  Oh for God’s sake. Lorenda was not discussing her love life with her mother.

  She decided to change the subject. “Do you need me to bring any clothes by for the boys?”

  “No, I’ve got some extra pajamas here for them, and I can throw the clothes they’re wearing in the wash after they take a bath.”

  “Good, then let me know when I can pick them up tomorrow.”

  “Okay, sweetie,” her mom said, and Lorenda was thankful that the topic of men was closed. “When you see Mr. Summerall again, make sure to wear that pink sundress. You know, the one with the white belt. It shows off your figure.”

  Lorenda banged her head against the chair. “Mom.”

  Her mother acted oblivious. “And your dad is going to follow up with him tonight. He may mention that your housemate is your brother-in-law, and nothing more.”

  That was true. Sort of.

  “Hey, Dylan.” Lorenda slid onto a barstool at Cotton-Eyed Joe’s. She’d arrived a few minutes before the rest of the mommy mafia so she could ask Dylan McCoy to help with the concert. He was Joe’s nephew, head bartender at Joe’s, second-in-command of Red River’s favorite watering hole, and most everyone speculated that Dylan would take over when Joe retired.

  “Hey, Lorenda.” Dylan filled a frosty mug at the tap and set it on a tray so the server could deliver it to its rightful owner. His chestnut-brown hair was a little longer than Red River’s norm, and the small diamond stud in his ear sparkled under the dim lights. He wiped his hands on a towel as he came to stand in front of her. “What can I get you?”

  “Um . . . how about a beer? My usual.”

  “Coming right up.” Within a minute a cold, longneck bottle was sitting in front of her on a coaster.

  “That all?” Dylan asked.

  “Um, well . . . you’re a musician.” She snagged a peanut from the bucket and peeled off the shell. “And you used to write songs for some pretty famous bands, right?” Okay, stupid. Eeeeverybody knew Dylan had been a professional songwriter, because several of his songs had been hits. And everybody also knew that Dylan didn’t talk about whatever had gone down that caused him to leave Los Angeles. In fact, he hadn’t had anything to do with music at all since he’d moved back to Red River.

  “I guess.” Dylan’s voice turned guarded. “Why?” He tossed the towel over a shoulder and checked the ice machine behind the bar.

  She explained the situation in one long breath before she lost her nerve.

  “Wish I could help you out, but I can’t.”

  “I’m asking for the kids, not for myse—”

  “No.” His tone was flat and final. His expression was firm.

  She’d obviously struck a nerve, so she backed off out of respect for his boundaries. “Thanks anyway.” She lifted her bottle. “Start a tab. It’s ladies’ night out.”

  His boyish grin returned. “You got it.”

  She turned to find a table, because it was dinnertime on a Saturday night, and the restaurant was starting to fill.

  “Lorenda,” Dylan said.

  When she turned back to look at him, his expression had gone softer. Sad, almost. He hesitated. Looked away with a muscle ticking at his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he finally said.

  She shook her head. “It’s okay, Dylan. I had to try, though.”

  She claimed a booth against the right wall, and one by one, each seat at her table filled with either a pregnant or nursing woman. Hence the mommy mafia nickname. Lorenda loved each one of them like sisters.

  “Let’s order,” said Miranda, finally over the first trimester blues and barfs from pregnancy numero uno.

  “I’m with you, sister,” said Ella, who was growing round with her second bun in the oven.

  Angelique, bleary eyed from nursing her first bundle of colicky joy, flagged down a waitress, and they each rattled off an order. When Lorenda ordered another beer, every last one of them gave her the evil eye.

  “We haven’t seen you in a few weeks.” Ella’s tone was teasing. “Guess you’ve had your ha
nds full, Lor.”

  Did she ever. Especially this morning in Mitchell’s bathroom.

  She lost her concentration. Cleared her throat. And drained the rest of her longneck.

  Desperate situations called for desperate measures, and the mommy mafia was just the right group of ladies to help with both of her problems. “I have an offer you can’t refuse,” Lorenda said like a mafia foot soldier. She set the empty bottle to the side with a thud. “Right after I kick your asses.”

  “You’re enjoying delicious cold beer right in front of us, knowing we can’t have any, and you want to kick our asses?” said Angelique.

  Lorenda’s back was to the door, but she knew the moment Mitchell walked in. A sixth sense caused her posture to go rigid and the spot between her thighs to go hot. Sure enough, Mitchell walked past with Talmadge and Langston.

  Talmadge stopped to give his wife a quick kiss. Miranda grabbed him by the shirt collar and stared into his eyes. “It’s your fault I can’t drink during ladies’ night out for the next several months.” She rubbed her baby bump.

  “You don’t drink, babe, but I’ll make it up to you anyway,” Talmadge said in a sensual tone, then glanced around the table. “When you’re not with your hit squad.”

  “Darn right you will.” Miranda gave him another kiss and let him go.

  He winked at them. “You ladies do realize you’re a little scary when you’re all together, right?”

  “There’s power in numbers,” Angelique said. “And in hormones.”

  He shook his head and joined the other guys in a booth at the back of the room. A table of hotties—with the exception of Lorenda’s brother, because eww—but no one except Mitchell existed as far as she was concerned. Every table and barstool had filled, but the cavernous restaurant/saloon/honky-tonk dance hall might as well be empty. All Lorenda could focus on—besides the mommy mafia who looked like they might stab her with a fork every time she took a sip of beer—was the gorgeous, badass ex-SEAL.