New Year, New Love Read online

  While the phone rang, he fortified himself with a couple of fries. Tracy answered almost immediately, making him swallow quickly to clear his mouth. “Tracy, it’s Dad.”

  “Oh, hi.” The coolness he’d learned to expect filled her voice and doused some of his anticipation.

  “Did your mom tell you she called me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know why I’m calling.”

  “Yes.”

  “She says you’re having trouble in school this year. Is that true?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  He couldn’t help comparing this conversation with the byplay between Sharon and her daughters. No comparison. But, then, Sharon had the luxury of being with her kids all the time. “Your mother says the highest grade you got last semester was a D. Is that true?”

  “No, but I did get two of them.”

  Not good, but not quite as bad as Helene made it sound. “That’s not like you, Tracy. What’s the trouble?”

  She let out a soft sigh. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, something must be bothering you. You usually get good grades without even trying.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Well?” He waited, wanting feedback but getting only silence. “Are you having trouble with friends?”

  “No.”

  “A boy?”

  “No.”

  “Are things okay between you and your mom?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Is that the only reason you called? To yell at me about my grades?”

  “I’m not yelling,” he pointed out reasonably. “I haven’t even raised my voice. But I am worried about your grades.”

  “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine. School’s fine. Mom and I are fine.” She paused briefly. “Is that all, Dad? Because I’m right in the middle of a book—”

  Gabe held back a sigh of frustration. Shoved the hurt aside. Told himself he couldn’t force her to talk to him. “Well, then, I’ll let you get back to it.”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you, Trace.”

  She hesitated for no longer than a heartbeat, but it was enough to send a shaft of insecurity through him. “Yeah. I love you, too.”

  He disconnected and stared at the phone for a few seconds, then dropped it on the couch and leaned his head against the cushions. Maybe she’d just been distracted. Then again, maybe the physical distance between them had eroded their relationship even further than he’d thought. She’d turned down his invitation to visit during the summer, pleading other commitments. Gabe had told himself repeatedly that, at her age, he shouldn’t expect her to leave her friends and stop all her activities just for a visit with her dad. But that hadn’t taken away an ounce of his disappointment.

  He’d dreamed once or twice about moving to Oregon so he could see her for an evening or on the weekends, but he couldn’t leave the business. And it was a cinch Helene wouldn’t bring Tracy back to Denver. She’d made that clear when she moved away.

  Scowling, he picked up his burger. It had grown cold and looked anything but appetizing. He dropped it back onto the coffee table with a grimace. What little appetite he’d had before had disappeared.

  He flicked channels on the television for several minutes, but he couldn’t rid himself of a nagging discontent.

  Maybe he should head over to Milago’s. A garlic burger and a beer just might make everything look brighter again. A little music. A few laughs. Sure. That’s exactly what he needed.

  On the other hand, he was in no mood to see Jesse or talk about the bet they’d made.

  In the end, he did the only thing a man who’s sworn to remain single for six months can do. He turned off the television and went to bed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A WEEK LATER, just in from her Saturday-night date with Jason, Emilee crept up the stairs and down the dimly lit hallway toward her bedroom. She paused as she passed her mother’s room and listened carefully to make sure she was inside, then flipped off the hall light. She needed to talk to Christa, but she didn’t want their mom to hear.

  She slipped into the bedroom, closing the door soundlessly behind her. “Christa?” No answer.

  She made her way carefully through the clutter on Christa’s side of the room toward her sister’s bed. “Christa? Are you awake?”

  “No.”

  Emilee moved a little closer. She stubbed her toe on something hard and let out a soft yelp.

  “Will you be quiet?” Christa mumbled. “I’m trying to sleep.”

  Emilee dropped onto the foot of her bed. “It’s not my fault. You left your boots in the middle of the floor.”

  “They’re on my side.” Christa rolled onto her back. “What are you doing, anyway?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “It’s after midnight.”

  “So?”

  “So I don’t want to talk.” Christa yanked the covers over her head. “We have to,” Emilee insisted. She grabbed one of Christa’s feet and jiggled it. “We have to plan.”

  “Plan what?” The covers muffled Christa’s voice.

  “Our New Year’s resolution—remember?”

  Christa grumbled for a second or two, then sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Okay. Fine. What do you want?”

  “I’ve figured out who we should set Mom up with.”

  That brought Christa fully awake. “Who?”

  Emilee smiled. This was the best idea she’d had yet. “You know that guy who works at the bookstore? The cute one Mom talks to sometimes?”

  “Yeah. But he’s married, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t think so. I remember hearing him say something about his ex-wife once.”

  Christa shifted on the bed, bouncing Emilee in the process. “How can we find out? I mean, we can’t just ask him.”

  “We can if we’re smart. We’ll bring it up in casual conversation.”

  “Won’t he get suspicious?”

  “No. Trust me.”

  Christa laughed. “Yeah. Right. Remember, I thought I was being smart when I took Mom to meet Steve’s dad, and that was a disaster.”

  Emilee made a noise of agreement, though she just knew she could handle it better than Christa had.

  Christa tugged the covers up to her neck. “Is he exciting?”

  “I think so. I heard him say something about bungee jumping once.”

  Christa snorted a laugh. “Bungee jumping? Get real, Emilee. Mom would never do something like that.”

  “She might. You never know.”

  “I know. Can you imagine Mom bungee jumping?” She laughed again—rudely.

  Emilee rolled her eyes in frustration. “Well? Do you have any other suggestions?”

  “Isn’t there somebody exciting and single at Mom’s work?”

  “At the college? If there was, don’t you think he’d have asked her out by now?”

  “Maybe. Probably.” Christa bent her legs and rested her chin on her knees. “I guess you’re right. Maybe the guy at the bookstore is our best bet. But you know, I was thinking…” She broke off and shook her head quickly. “No, he wouldn’t be right for Mom.”

  “Who?”

  “Gabe.”

  Emilee stared at her. “Gabe? The construction guy?”

  “Yeah. He’s really nice. Besides, he knows all about the plan.”

  Emilee’s stomach knotted. “He does? How?”

  “He overheard us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. He told me so.”

  Emilee couldn’t believe it. Christa acted as if it was no big deal. “When did he tell you?”

  “Last week.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because he promised he wouldn’t say anything to Mom.”

  “You believed him?”

  “He hasn’t told her, has he? I mean, if he had, we’d know.”

  She was right about that. But it
didn’t make Emilee feel a whole lot better. “I don’t like this. You should have told me.”

  Christa stretched out on the bed again. “Relax, Em. He’s cool. We can trust him.”

  “You’d better be right,” Emilee warned. “But you are right about one thing—he’s not Mom’s type. He’s too rugged looking. So let’s concentrate on getting her to take us to the mall.”

  “That’ll be easy,” Christa said, yawning. “Now go to bed and let me get some sleep. I’m tired.”

  “So am I.” Emilee crossed to the clean side of the room and undressed by moonlight.

  And she crossed her fingers for luck. Maybe this time they’d come up with a winner.

  SHARON KNEW she was being foolish. Every instinct she had told her so. But she had to admit that she was looking forward to Gabe’s arrival.

  She tried to concentrate on counting scoops of coffee into the filter. Instead, she found herself straining for the sound of his truck. She told herself to think about the exam she planned to give her advanced-journalism students during the upcoming week. Instead, she glanced at her reflection in the window, to check her hair and makeup.

  Foolish. She was acting like Emilee or Christa before one of their dates. She filled the carafe with water and told herself to get a grip. Gabe had been friendly, but never flirtatious. She had no business letting her thoughts get so out of control. And she certainly didn’t want the girls to guess how just the sight of him made her heart leap. She’d never hear the end of it.

  Resolving again to put him out of her mind, she dropped a slice of bread into the toaster. Before it had time to pop up, Christa bounced down the stairs into the kitchen. Sleep had formed spikes with her short hair, and her Winnie the Pooh slippers scuffed gently against the carpet.

  She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and gaped at Sharon, rubbed her eyes with her fists and stared again. “Why are you all dressed up?”

  Sharon scowled at her and picked up the morning newspaper from the counter. “I’m not all dressed up. I’m just dressed.”

  “Your hair’s done and you have makeup on.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Christa. You’re making it sound as if I never comb my hair or do my face.”

  “Well, you don’t,” Christa pointed out. “At least not this early on a Sunday morning.” She took a couple of steps closer. “You’re wearing lipstick, aren’t you?”

  “I may have put some on. I don’t remember.” Sharon spread a small amount of margarine on her toast and juggled it, her coffee and the newspaper as she walked into the living room.

  Christa waited until she’d made herself comfortable on the couch, then dropped onto the floor beside her. “Are you going somewhere today?”

  Sharon shrugged and handed Christa the comics. “Maybe. And maybe I’ll just stay here.”

  “Can we go to the mall?”

  The one request guaranteed to make Sharon wary. She enjoyed helping the girls pick out the right outfit or pair of shoes, but their shopping excursions always left dents in Sharon’s budget. “Why do you need to go to the mall? You just went a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Because.” Christa yawned again and spread the comics on the floor in front of her. “Because…um…I need a new pair of jeans?”

  “Really? You need them?”

  Christa nodded and tried to look solemn. “Yeah. I really do.”

  “I thought you had plenty of jeans.”

  “I don’t have the right ones.”

  “You poor thing.”

  “Yeah.” Christa tried to look picked on. “It’s really tough on me.” Her voice caught and she wiped away an imaginary tear. “I just feel so horrible. It’s really bad for my self-esteem.”

  “I’ll bet it is.” Sharon feigned concern. “And I suppose it’s affecting your grades, too.”

  “Definitely. I got an A-minus on a test last week.”

  “An A-minus?” Sharon put one hand to her chest and gasped. “Tell me it isn’t so.”

  Christa laughed and ducked her head. “Okay, so I don’t need the jeans. But can we go to the mall, anyway?”

  “Why? You’re not planning to introduce me to some friend’s dad again, are you?”

  Sharon had meant the question as a joke, but Christa’s eyes widened as if she’d been accused of something horrible. “No.”

  Sharon ran a hand across Christa’s sleep-mussed hair to reassure her. “Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you. But Mr. Case was very hard to talk to. I thought he was going to collapse every time he said two words to me. If you promise there won’t be a repeat performance this week, I might consider taking you to the mall later.”

  Christa looked pleased. Too pleased. “Okay. Can we get a pretzel while we’re there?”

  “Have I ever not bought you a pretzel at the mall?”

  “Never.”

  “Then I’m not likely to start changing my ways now, am I?”

  Christa’s grin widened. “No. Can we go to the bookstore, too? I’ve finished all the books I have.”

  Sharon liked that idea. A trip to the bookstore always put her in a good mood. If anything could make her stop thinking about Gabe, that would. “Absolutely.”

  “I’ll even make breakfast so you have enough energy to do some serious book browsing.”

  Another flicker of caution worked its way through Sharon. Usually, she had to do some serious persuading to get help from Christa in the kitchen. “You’re volunteering to make breakfast?”

  “Yep. And Emilee can do the dishes.”

  “I can do what?” Emilee’s groggy voice sounded behind them.

  Sharon shifted to see her better. “Christa’s offered to make breakfast, and she’s volunteered you to do the dishes afterward.”

  “Dishes?” Emilee groaned and shuffled across the room toward one of the wingback chairs. “I hate doing dishes.”

  Christa stretched her arms above her head and sent Emilee a pointed glance. “I didn’t think you’d mind. Mom’s taking us to the bookstore.”

  Emilee’s eyes widened slightly. “Really? All right. I’ll do the dishes, then.”

  A trip to the bookstore usually didn’t pry a reaction like that from Emilee. Sharon wondered briefly if they had some other reason for wanting this trip to the mall, but she shook off her suspicions with a silent laugh. She was letting her imagination run completely away from her. After all, what ulterior motive could the girls possibly have for wanting to go to the bookstore?

  Two hours later, standing in the middle of the Outdoor Recreation section of the bookstore, Sharon asked herself the same question. But this time with growing trepidation.

  Since walking into the store fifteen minutes ago, Emilee and Christa had tagged after one of the booksellers relentlessly. They’d peppered him with questions about every outdoor activity Sharon could imagine—and some she’d never thought of.

  No doubt about it, the girls were behaving strangely. Were they hoping to go on some camping trip? Maybe they were trying to get Sharon interested. Certainly, each time she tried to steal away to one of the fiction sections, Emilee or Christa would draw her into a conversation about the outdoors. It was, she thought grimly, odd behavior for two usually independent teenagers. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear one of them had a crush on the salesclerk.

  That thought brought her up short. Did she know better? Sharon studied him carefully. She knew him by sight. He’d helped her on more than one occasion, and they’d even had a couple of short conversations while she’d waited for Christa and Emilee to pick out their books. But why would one of the girls find him attractive? He had to be at least twice their age.

  She listened halfheartedly to his monologue on skydiving—she was obviously wrong about the camping—and tried to decide which of her daughters showed the most interest. Christa had already asked about bungee jumping and rappelling. Emilee about hang gliding and river rafting. Sharon tried to pay attention to what he was saying.

  “I was about your age the f
irst time I went skydiving. I gave myself the trip for my high-school graduation—”

  Skydiving. Just the thought of it made Sharon slightly nauseated. She preferred to keep both feet firmly planted on terra firma.

  “—after that first fall, I was hooked for life. You aren’t really aware of the ground as you fall—”

  Sharon’s stomach gave a lurch. She’d be aware of the ground, she thought.

  Brett—the clerk’s name according to the badge on his chest—caught her eye. “So, tell me. Do you share your daughters’ interest in adventure?”

  Sharon took an involuntary step backward as if she thought he might try to haul her into a plane if she stood too close. “No. I’d rather read a good mystery.”

  Amusement lit his eyes. “Well, they must have gotten it from somewhere. Maybe you have a latent interest you haven’t tapped into yet.”

  Not likely. “To tell you the truth, I never realized until today they were interested in any of these things.”

  “You ought to try bungee jumping,” Christa urged. “I’ll bet you’d like it. In fact, maybe we could all go—”

  Sharon let out a nervous laugh and took another step away. “Not me. I have no desire to fling myself from a bridge while attached to a rubber band.”

  Brett pulled a thick volume from the shelf and handed it to Emilee. “You’d like skydiving. There’s nothing like the freedom of a free fall. The silence is incredible.”

  “There wouldn’t be any silence if I went,” Sharon assured him. “I’d be too busy screaming.”

  He looked disappointed. “If you’re ever interested in trying, I can put you in touch with the right people.”

  Christa’s eager gaze darted to Sharon’s. Emilee managed a more nonchalant look. “Does your wife do all these things with you?”

  “Oh, I’m not married. It takes a special kind of woman to put up with all the stuff I like to do.”

  Emilee’s smile grew. “Well, there are special women out there.”

  Sharon’s maternal instincts screamed to full alert. No way would she let Emilee get involved with someone so much older and more experienced. Belatedly, she realized Emilee was saying something about her.