Take a Chance on Me

He was touched that she’d gone to the trouble of picking up his favorite pie from Main Street Diner, because there was nothing like a perfectly spiced, homemade apple pie when his world felt out of kilter.

“Were you fired?” Gram asked bluntly.

“No. Worse. My company was sold.”

“But I thought your company had already been sold.”

“It had, two years ago. I sold it to TexTron, but then they turned around and sold it to a media conglomerate and the new company doesn’t want me. They just want the games.”

“I see.”

“And now I am without a job.”

“I’m sure you’ll get another one. You’ll land on your feet, my dear. I have confidence in you.”

He checked his smile. “Thank you, Gram. I appreciate that.”

“And if you’re worrying about money—”

“I’m not.”

“I can float you a loan. Just to get you by.”

“Gram, I’m not short of cash.”

“Did they give you severance pay?”

“Something like that.”

“I hope they gave you your vacation time and things like that.”

“They did.”

“Well, you can stay here for as long as you want. I have plenty of rooms, and this is a big house, there’s lots of space. There is no reason we can’t be good housemates, provided you pick up after yourself and all.” She frowned. “You don’t leave your things lying around, do you? I can’t imagine you would. Your father was very tidy himself. But then, your grandfather Justice wouldn’t have permitted Patrick to just drop things willy-nilly. He was a military man. Everything had a time and place.”

“I’m not a slob, no.” He leaned forward and kissed his grandmother on the cheek. “Now let me take care of these dishes and then I think I’m going to change and go for a quick run before it’s dark.”

“A run now? After pie?”

“Well, that way I can have more pie later, right?” He grinned and rose, taking the dishes with him.

“What about dinner?” she called.

He returned to the dining room, and leaned against the doorframe. “Would you mind if I skipped dinner tonight? There are some things I need to do.”

“Like what?”

“Companies in the area I wanted to check out.”

“Oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I thought you were maybe going to stop by and see Mandy.”

“I might, but I might not. Why?”

“Because you want to see if I’ve given her any more of my things?”

“Gram.”

“I can’t think what you possibly have to say to her. You’ve said enough, I believe.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I know more than you’d like me to know—”

“Amanda said something.”

“Amanda said nothing. But others did. You’ve gone and made a mess out of things, and that wasn’t necessary. So do us both a favor, and stay away from her. You haven’t been very kind to her.”

“I sincerely regret it if that is the case.”

“It’s the case.”

“I’ll apologize to her.”

“Take her flowers first. Before you ask her to dinner.”

“Gram.”

“Really pretty ones. This isn’t the time to be shabby.”

Chapter Seven

“Your sexy game developer is back in town,” Charity said nonchalantly late Thursday afternoon as Amanda placed the last foil in her hair and set the timer.

“I don’t have a sexy game developer,” Amanda answered, wiping her hands on a small towel gathering her combs and color bowls.

“I’m sorry, should I have called him a designer?”

“The point is, he’s not mine.”

“But he certainly seems interested in you.”

“He isn’t.”

“How can you say that when he’s here with the biggest bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen?”

Amanda turned around and, yes, he was talking to Emily at the front desk, holding a massive bouquet of pink tulips and roses and other gorgeous flowers, all pink as well.

For a split second she was tempted to run to the back and hide. And then he was approaching her and it was too late to run.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” she answered, shifting the plastic color bowls, feeling as awkward as a schoolgirl. “You’re back already.”

“I am.”

“Missed Montana?”

“Not Montana, just Marietta.”

“It’s an addictive little town.”

His lips curved into a crooked smile. “You warned me.”

Everything inside her seemed to light up, or was that the effect of her mad, galloping pulse? “I did.”

“These are for you. I do believe you like everything pink.”

She juggled the bowls again and accepted the flowers. “As long as I’m not wearing it.”

He smiled, creases fanning from the corners of his eyes. “But you have no problem with a pink house.”

“No. I think the house loves it.”

“She does look younger.”

Amanda laughed out loud, and then remembering her sister in the chair behind her, glanced back at Charity who was grinning from ear to ear, looking an awful lot like the Cheshire cat.

“Ty, you remember my sister, Charity? Charity, say hello to Tyler while I go put these gorgeous flowers in a vase.” And then she went to the kitchen to find a vase and try to pull herself together because her heart was pounding and her skin was tingling and she felt far too giddy and excited.

She shouldn’t be so excited.

She shouldn’t feel as if something amazing had just happened. And yet when he’d handed her the flowers, and he’d made the joke about the house looking younger, she’d felt a bubble of pleasure, the kind of pleasure that was very close to joy. It was impossible, really, to feel this kind of happiness. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t make sense. And yet everything in her wanted to rush back out and see him, and talk to him, but the sheer intensity of her emotions made her hold back.

“Maybe I should have bought a vase with the flowers.” Tyler was standing just inside the kitchen, looking out of place in all t

he white paint and Victorian details.

“I love the flowers, and I have plenty of vases.” She opened the cupboard door beneath the sink, revealing an assortment of glass containers. She reached for a cranberry-pink vase. “I think this will be perfect.”

She felt him watching her as she filled the vase, and then trimmed the stems and put them in water, fussing with some of the flowers, arranging them to better advantage.

“What do you think?” she said, stepping back.

“Beautiful.”

She flashed him a smile. “I think so, too. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about… everything… before. I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t trustworthy. I just worry about Gram, maybe because my dad used to worry about her. She’s been taken advantage of before—”

“I’d never do that to her, or anyone.” She looked away, out the window where darkness had fallen, hiding the world. “I grew up without a lot, raised by parents who lived constantly on the brink of financial disaster. My sisters and I are always trying to bail them out of trouble. It was my turn last time to help, and it… just backfired. It blew up on me, and hurt me financially. That’s where your grandmother stepped in, and she saved me. She did. But it was really uncomfortable accepting help from her. I didn’t want her help. I like to be able to do things myself. I need to be able to take care of myself. I value independence and admire self-sufficiency. In others and myself.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No. Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you’re looking out for Bette. She needs you. She needs to have someone who loves her, dearly.”

“I think you love her.”

“But isn’t it even better when you have lots of people love you?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Something in his gaze made her warm, and then hot. She found herself looking at his lovely firm mouth and wondering how he kissed, and just imagining kissing him made the narrow kitchen feel smaller, and a little too intimate. Thankfully the timer on her phone pinged, forcing her to action.