the repairs over and done with made things easier on Ellie, then Lindsay could certainly give her gran a break. “You’re right, of course. And I am glad. It’s for the best, you’ll see.”
“Oh, I have no doubt. Just think, once the repairs are made and everything’s back in shape, I’ll have no reason not to stay right where I am.”
With a satisfied smile, Ellie grabbed the platter loaded down with pancakes, crispy bacon and scrambled eggs and turned toward the eat-in nook. “Now, who’s hungry?”
Robbie and Ryder both called out, but Lindsay’s own appetite disappeared as her stomach dropped. Stay in the house? So much for convincing her grandmother to sell. Instead she’d given Ellie reason to dig in her heels even further.
Looking over at the table in time to see Ryder cajole a laugh out of her typically shy son over spearing the same piece of bacon with their forks, Lindsay swallowed her own, slightly hysterical laughter as she tried to figure out how everything had slipped so far from her control.
* * *
In San Francisco, client breakfasts were held in towering high-rises with multimillion-dollar views overlooking the bay. Often those meetings were catered by some of the best restaurants around, but Ryder could honestly say the food couldn’t compare with the simple, home-cooked dishes Lindsay’s grandmother prepared. The bacon was exactly how he liked it—crisp but not too crisp—and the pancakes so light and fluffy and flavorful he’d waved aside Ellie’s offer of maple syrup.
If this was a typical breakfast in the Brookes’ household, well, he’d be tempted to stop by every morning.
And not just for the food...
Ryder wanted to ignore the sly voice that sounded far too much like his big brother’s, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding toward Lindsay, seated diagonally across the table from him.
Her appearance was a far cry from the sophisticated woman he’d seen the day before. Her pajamas were sleep-rumpled, her tousled hair caught up in a crooked ponytail, her face free of even a hint of makeup. Ryder had no doubt she was more than a little embarrassed, but all he could think was how fresh-faced and natural she looked. How real...
And after life with Brittany, the masks she wore and the games she played, nothing was more appealing than a woman with nothing to hide.
He had to swallow a smile every time Lindsay self-consciously adjusted the glasses she hadn’t worn the day before. She’d clearly switched to contacts and was uncomfortable in the thick tortoiseshell frames that seemed too big for her delicate features. But the more she messed with the glasses, the more he noticed them, and the more he had to fight that smile.
Ryder still wasn’t sure what it was that had drawn him to her when they were teenagers. To say they didn’t run in the same circles was an understatement. He’d spent his days in the limelight, surrounded by kids in the cool crowd, while Lindsay blended into the shadows. It wasn’t that the other kids disliked her. More that no one really got the chance to know her. He couldn’t count how many times he’d smiled or said hi to her in the halls, but she’d duck her head and all but run away.
Just as she had earlier that morning.
But this Lindsay, the grown-up Lindsay—despite the throwback glasses, cartoon pajamas and fuzzy dog slippers—was stronger than the girl he remembered. She could have disappeared into one of the bedrooms upstairs.
Instead she’d taken her place at the table, but her nerves still showed in her rigid posture. Her gaze kept cutting over to her son every few seconds, though Ryder wasn’t sure what she expected the boy to do. The kid—Robbie, wasn’t it?—was far more reserved than his nephews, who’d talk anyone’s ear off. Maybe it was being an only child. During his own childhood with his older brother and younger sister, there was always someone to talk to, talk over or argue with. Meals were always a noisy, rambunctious affair, a far cry from the polite conversation at the Brookes’ breakfast table.
“Use your napkin, Robbie,” Lindsay instructed as the boy lowered his glass to reveal a milk mustache.
Miss Manners, Ryder thought, oddly pleased that aspect of Lindsay’s personality hadn’t changed. Her automatic corrections and know-it-all attitude had led some kids to believe she was something of a snob, but he’d always gotten a kick out of how smart she was.
Which made him wonder...
“So, what kind of work do you do, Lindsay?”
“I work for a PR firm in Phoenix.”
“Really?”
He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice, and judging by the way her chin rose, Lindsay heard it. “Yes, really. I’ve been there for five years now.”
Ryder had always known Lindsay would succeed at whatever she chose to do even after he heard she’d gotten pregnant. But he’d always figured the shy, studious girl he’d known would grow up to be a librarian or a computer whiz or an accountant, where she’d be somewhat behind the scenes, using her brain to problem-solve.
Not that PR work didn’t require serious problem-solving skills. He’d seen on a professional level how his in-laws’ used their PR team to divert and deflect any negative publicity away from the firm and also on a personal level as Brittany put so much spin on their divorce that the truth had become an indecipherable blur.
Not that he cared. At least, not all that much. He’d rather be the jerk who walked out on his marriage than the schmuck whose wife had been lying to him for years.
“My mom’s been on TV and everything.”
Robbie offered up that information, pulling Ryder from the past and bringing his focus back to what really surprised him about Lindsay’s career choice. “On TV and everything,” he echoed. She certainly had looked television-ready the day before, and that was while picking up pizza at a fast-food joint.
The old Lindsay would have blushed at his teasing, but the new Lindsay met his grin with a wry smile of her own. “Local news and a cable television talk show,” she said, dismissing it as no big deal, though her son was obviously impressed.
So was Ryder, since as far as he knew, Lindsay’s only less than stellar grade in high school came after she bailed in the middle of an oral history presentation. She’d stuttered, words tripping one over the other, until she simply froze, horrified, her face pale as her mouth opened and closed with no words coming out, no air going in, drowning in humiliation—
Another memory stabbed at him. Lindsay standing beside his locker, waiting for him on the Monday morning following that fateful weekend. Standing beside his locker and looking even more horrified, more humiliated, more hurt.
Suddenly, despite the delicious food still on his plate, Ryder couldn’t swallow another bite.
He’d felt bad about it, but hell, maybe he was the one who should have gone into the spit-and-polish world of PR. Hadn’t he glossed over what he’d done, justifying his actions with the best of them, until he’d convinced himself his own BS was the God’s honest truth?
He was protecting her by keeping what happened a secret...
It would only make matters worse if the truth came out...
Lindsay
