The next morning, she drove her brother to work. Daniel had been bored at home. He was eager to be back on the job, with people he knew and liked. He was especially happy about being around Katy again.
“Now remember,” Megan told him, “be careful lifting heavy bags. If your shoulder starts to hurt, stop and rest. If it doesn’t feel better, call me and I’ll come and get you.”
“I’ll be fine,” Daniel said. “Don’t worry.”
She was pulling up to the entrance to let him out when she saw the sign posted in the window: HELP WANTED. CUSTOMER SERVICE. APPLY INSIDE.
As Daniel hurried into the store, Megan stared at the sign, thinking. Ronda May needed a job. And she’d had plenty of experience dealing with customers. This position might be just the thing for her. Someone should tell her about it.
Someone who had her phone number.
Megan didn’t. But Conner did.
With a sigh, Megan pulled into a parking place, fished a pen and a scrap of paper out of her purse, and scrolled her phone to Conner’s number. She’d made it clear that she wouldn’t call him until she heard he’d settled things with Ronda May. But now, it seemed, Ronda May had become her concern, as well as his.
He picked up on the first ring. “Megan?” Even his voice triggered a ripple of awareness, like being lightly touched.
“Hi,” she said. “I know I promised not to call—”
“No—that’s all right. It was your idea, not mine. I’ve missed you. What’s up?”
The conversation was about to become awkward. “I ran into Ronda May at Shop Mart yesterday. I invited her for coffee and we had a nice talk.”
“Oh?” He was instantly on guard. “How did that go? Did the two of you dice me into pieces?”
“No. In fact, she said some nice things about you. I can’t say we’ve become friends, but at least we understand each other better.”
“And?”
“Here’s why I’m calling. I guess you know she lost her job.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I just let Daniel off at Shop Mart. There’s a Help Wanted sign in the window—they need somebody in customer service.”
He was silent for a moment. “Yeah, that would be right up her alley.”
“I want to let her know, but I don’t have her phone number. I’m guessing you do. I’ve got a pen here, if you don’t mind giving it to me.”
“Sure.” He rattled off the number, clearly from memory.
“If you’d rather call her yourself—”
“No, that’s fine. Go ahead.” He cleared his throat. “This isn’t how I wanted us to be, Megan. If you’ve talked with Ronda May, and if she was honest, you’ll know that we’re still friends. But that’s all, and it’s not going anywhere. She wants to get married, and I don’t—didn’t.” He corrected the slip. What was that supposed to mean?
“What she seems to think,” Megan said, “is that you’re in love with that singer who showed up at the ball last year—you know, your dream woman.”
“Fine. Let her think that. It doesn’t matter.” There was silence on the phone before he spoke again. “What matters is you and me. And, damn it, I’m not about to let Ronda May control our lives—trust me, that’s her way. I’ve seen it before. I miss you and I want to be with you—just you and nobody else. So let’s end this standoff. . . tonight.”
His words caught Megan off guard. She wanted him—wanted him so much, it hurt. But she could feel her emotions churning with unanswered questions. Things were moving too fast, like the twists and turns on a crazy amusement park ride. She needed time to stop and think about what she really wanted.
The truth was, she was tired of games. She’d passed beyond the need for cheap thrills and stolen kisses. She wanted something lasting, something real. She was ready for a lifetime relationship based on love and trust.
But was Conner? Or, if she gave him her heart, would she end up as bitterly disappointed as Ronda May?
Her womanly urges were shouting, Yes! But Conner’s “love ’em and leave ’em” track record gave her every reason to be cautious.
“What is it?” he asked. “Are you still worried about Ronda May?”