All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)

Annabelle, who knew a little more of what was going on with Clay, looked amused and concerned at the same time. Charlie had a feeling she was going to get a talking-to fairly soon.

“Me, too,” Annabelle told her. “And I’m surprised that it was an issue. I thought we were more evolved than that.”

“They think he’s going to be flaky. That he won’t follow through. If he’d given them any reason for that, I would totally support their concern. But he hasn’t. He’s shown up when he’s supposed to and done what he’s told.”

“An excellent quality in a man,” Patience said, her eyes twinkling. “I like him already.”

“Interested?” Annabelle asked causally, keeping her gaze on Charlie.

Charlie forced herself to take a big bite of her burger and chew as if she hadn’t felt a single twinge of jealousy. That sharp pain in the region of her heart was just, um, preindigestion.

“Wish I could be, but no. My ex cured me of ever being willing to trust a man again.” Patience’s smile turned rueful. “Not as much for me as for Lillie. Ned wasn’t interested in being a dad, so he signed away his rights to her. I’m not interested in breaking her heart a second time.”

“Not all guys are jerks,” Annabelle told her.

“I’ve heard the rumors. So far I don’t believe they’re true. Although your guy is pretty special.”

“I know,” Annabelle said with a sigh.

“Oh, the fries are ready.” Patience got up and walked toward the bar.

Annabelle watched her go, then leaned forward. “Be careful,” she said in a low voice. “About Clay.”

“I wasn’t reacting emotionally,” Charlie whispered. “I defended him because it was the right thing to do.”

“I agree, but I’m worried about you.”

“We’re just friends.”

“You’re having sex.”

“Not yet, but soon.” Anticipation sent an odd heat burning through to her thighs.

Her friend looked at her. “You’re messing with forces you can’t control.”

“You sound like a sci-fi movie.”

“Great truth can be found there. I’m serious, Charlie. I’m glad you’re healing and it’s great that Clay is helping, but things happen when a woman has sex. It’s difficult not to get emotionally involved.”

Charlie saw Patience was chatting with Jo. “I know,” she said quietly. “He’s helping me. Nothing more.”

“You’re trusting him with something intimate. What you do will affect you more than you think.”

“I know myself. I’ll be fine.”

Patience returned with the fries. “Jo was saying all the hotel rooms in town are booked for the Fall Festival. That’s one of my favorites.”

“Mine, too,” Charlie said. “I’m a sucker for candied apples.”

Annabelle shook her head, as if accepting Charlie wouldn’t listen, and joined the conversation.

Charlie appreciated her concern, but knew the truth. She wasn’t at risk of falling for Clay. She knew exactly what she was doing and what was going to happen when they sealed the deal, so to speak. He was a way to get what she wanted—emotional healing that would allow her to be the best mother possible. She had no expectations for anything beyond his tutorial skills.

* * *

DOMINIQUE RANG THE bell and waited. She knew there was an excellent chance her daughter would leave her standing on the porch, but part of May’s advice had been not to give up. Dominique planned to be as persistent as necessary.

She had several pages of notes from her afternoon at the other woman’s house. None of it made sense to her, but she understood that she had to do something. The alternative was to give up and leave. An attitude that did not get one very far in life. Dominique was willing to admit she had flaws, but not being willing to do the hard work wasn’t one of them.

She waited for several seconds, then pressed her finger on the bell again, this time not letting up until Chantal flung open the door and stood in front of her.

“I was coming,” she said defensively. “I was in the back of the house.”

“You were hoping I would go away. You’ve been avoiding me.”

Her daughter’s mouth twisted, perhaps in annoyance, perhaps in frustration. But instead of denying the obvious, she stepped back and motioned for Dominique to enter.

“No bodyguard?” Chantal asked.

“He’s back in Los Angeles for a few weeks. He’ll return soon enough.”

Chantal led the way to a smallish living room. There was a worn sofa and a couple of chairs. The fireplace was nice—original, Dominique thought.

“This house has good bones,” she said, settling on a sofa cushion. “But the wall color is drab and your fabric choices are plain. Whoever you hired as a decorator should be fired.”

Charlie wore worn jeans and a T-shirt. Her feet were bare, as was her face. Her hair stood in unruly tufts, as if she’d been running her fingers through it.

Now she put her hands on her slim hips and sighed. “That’s why you’re here? To criticize my house?”