“I like it here,” Raoul admitted. “I’ve traveled a lot, seen most of the world. I’m looking for a home base. Something permanent.”
Ethan would guess Raoul was in his early thirties. His football career had been a stunning success, so money wouldn’t be a problem. “I have three sisters,” he said lightly. “Stay away from them.”
Raoul laughed. “Spoken like an older brother.”
“You got that right. Besides, there are plenty of other women in town. A lot more women than men, in fact.”
“I’ve noticed that. Lots of pretty ones, too. Anyone else you want to warn me about?”
Ethan thought of Liz, her shiny red hair, the scent of her skin, the way she tasted when he kissed her. He remembered her passion, her cries as she came, the flash of anger in her green eyes as she’d pointed out that what they’d done was fifty kinds of stupid.
The memories were enough to heat his blood. He found himself wanting to see her again. No. Not see. Make love. Slowly, this time. In a bed, with plenty of time to remember and even more to explore.
A wanting complicated by their past, Tyler and anger.
“There’s no one,” he said.
Raoul’s gaze seemed to see more than it should. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
LIZ CHECKED HER LIST, BEFORE turning her cart toward the checkout line. Pia had called a couple hours ago about the girls’ night in. When Liz had tried to beg off, saying she didn’t want to leave the kids by themselves, Pia had offered to move the party to Liz’s place. Liz had been so unprepared for that suggestion, she hadn’t figured out a way to say no. In a matter of seconds, she’d gone from unwilling participant to hostess. It was a move that would make any four-star general proud.
At least it was a distraction, Liz thought. There was no way she could panic about what to serve and think about Roy while worrying about Ethan. Her brain simply wasn’t that big.
She got in line behind an older woman and wondered if she should buy another bag of ice. Pia had said everyone would bring plenty of liquor. Liz only had to provide snacks. Someone named Jo would bring the blender. But blender drinks required a lot of ice.
She eased out of line and started to turn toward the freezer case, when a woman in her fifties, someone Liz had never met, stopped her.
“Are you Liz Sutton?” she asked, looking more annoyed than friendly.
Liz hesitated. “Yes.”
“I thought I recognized you. I’m friends with Denise Hendrix and I wanted to tell you that I think what you did is just awful. What kind of mother keeps her child from his father? There’s no excuse for that. You hurt a wonderful family with your selfishness. I hope you’re happy now.”
“Not so much,” Liz murmured as the other woman stomped away.
Still astounded by the encounter, she grabbed a second bag of ice, and returned to the checkout line. As she stood there, she felt as if everyone was staring at her, judging her.
“Hateful old cow,” she muttered quietly, wishing the name-calling would make her feel better. It didn’t.
When the clerk announced the total, Liz picked up her wallet and pulled out the bills.
There should have been over one hundred dollars, but instead there were only three twenties and a single five. She frowned, sure she’d checked her cash before she’d left the house, but obviously not. She shoved the money back into her wallet and zipped a credit card through the machine.
The girls were home by the time she arrived at the house and Tyler had returned, as well. They competed for her attention as they talked about their day. She listened and nodded, doing her best to keep smiling, to forget the woman at the grocery store and not get lost in thinking about Ethan, either. Which was tough with Tyler starting every sentence with, “And then my dad…”
She got the food put away, chicken br**sts in the oven for the kids and explained about the women coming over that evening.
“I thought the three of you could go to the video store and rent movies for tonight,” she suggested.
Abby and Tyler agreed. Melissa tilted her head.
“Maybe I could stay with you,” she said. “You know, not with the kids.”
Abby and Tyler rolled their eyes. “We’re not kids,” Abby chided. “And you’re not all that grown-up. You’re only fourteen.”
“I’m a teenager,” Melissa reminded her.
Liz didn’t know what exactly happened at girls’ night in, but she knew there was a lot of drinking.
“How about if you stay for the first half hour,” she suggested. “While everyone is getting here. Then you can go upstairs.”
“Fine,” Melissa conceded with a sigh. “But I’m very mature.”
“I know, honey. You did a great job while you were alone.” She hesitated, then asked the girls to sit at the table. “I want to talk about your dad.”
Tyler hovered by Liz. “Should I go upstairs?” he asked in a loud whisper.
She nodded. “I’ll explain all of this later.”
“Okay,” he said, and ducked out of the room.