a teenager.”
“I rent out the main floor and live in the apartment on the second level. The income from the renters helps tide things over during the slow winter months. What house are you in?”
“The small yellow one, second from the other end.”
“So we’ve been within walking distance of each other there, too? I really must have been in a fog lately.”
“Well, at least you won’t have to go far out of your way,” Shandie said.
“Wouldn’t have mattered if I had needed to,” he assured her with a sideways glance that seemed along the same lines as his comment about not fixing the lock on the utility room door and blocking big girls from coming into his garage.
Shandie didn’t know what to say except, “Well, I appreciate the lift,” and only after she’d said it did she realize he was giving a bit of a lift to her ego, too, since she was feeling flattered to be flirted with for the first time in a very long while.
Kayla caught her attention then. Sitting in her carrier between them, out of the blue the toddler began to rub the sleeve of Dax Traub’s leather jacket.
It did look as soft as butter, and Shandie was aware of a curiosity of her own about whether or not it felt the way it looked. But being three and having few inhibitions, Kayla merely reached over and rubbed Dax’s arm.
It took him by surprise and he glanced from the road to the chubby hand caressing his coat.
“Kayla…” Shandie reprimanded.
“Feels like blankie,” the little girl countered.
“It isn’t blankie, though, so keep your hands to yourself,” Shandie said, embarrassed.
Or was it not only embarrassment she was feeling? Was there also some envy over the fact that her daughter was getting to touch Dax Traub?
It had better just be embarrassment, she told herself.
“It’s okay,” he assured Shandie as Kayla went right on fingering the leather the way she did the satin edge of her favorite blanket when she was falling asleep.
“Ever’body was talkin’ ’bout you today,” the little girl said then.
Dax aimed another look at Shandie, and she could tell he was taking her daughter’s remark to mean that Shandie had been talking about him today.
“Not me,” she was quick to say. Too quick. “But you were the talk of the beauty shop.” Although she hadn’t thought that Kayla had been eavesdropping as much as she had been.
One of Dax’s eyebrows arched suspiciously. “Why?”
“A few of the customers knew each other and were wondering if you’ll go to some dinner they’re having tomorrow night?” She finished that in the form of a question because it wasn’t as if she was clear about what she was referring to.
Dax turned his eyes to the road ahead, and as Shandie looked over at his perfect profile she saw his chin raise slightly in what might have been defensiveness or defiance or maybe both—she couldn’t tell. But it had a stiffness to it that let her know she’d hit a sore spot.
“It’s none of my business,” she said in a hurry to provide an excuse for him not to talk about it.
“It’s okay,” he said. Then, when Shandie expected him to drop it, he added, “Some old friends are having a get-together is all.”
“A pre-Thanksgiving dinner,” Shandie repeated what she’d overheard.
“Right.”
“And you may not go?” she asked cautiously.
“It’s pretty unlikely, yeah,” he said in a gruff voice that was almost more to himself than to her.
“It sounded nice,” she offered. “Good food. Everyone’s looking forward to it…”
“Probably more if they can count on my not being there.”
“I didn’t get that impression.”
“No? What impression did you get?”
Shandie shrugged within the navy-blue peacoat she had buttoned to her throat. “I got the impression that they wanted you to go.”
He gave her a look that said he doubted that.
“Why would they invite you and not want you to be there? Especially if they’re old friends?”
“Because now one of the old friends is coupled with my ex-fiancée, and my ex-wife has connected with my brother, who’s not so thrilled with me himself and… It’s complicated.”
“Oh,” Shandie said, not telling him that she’d heard he’d had a fight with his brother. After all, she didn’t actually know anything about it, anyway. Or any details about any of the rest of what he’d just briefly outlined.
“Still,” she felt inclined to persist, “I didn’t get the idea that anyone wanted you to miss the dinner.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t say I’m too thrilled about going myself.”
“Oh. Is this a group you want out of?” she asked, treading carefully.
He shot her a quizzical look, as if he didn’t know why she’d ask that.
“It happens,” she said in defense of her question. “People reach points in friendships and even in families where they just don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”
“I thought we were only talking about some dumb dinner?”
And clearly he didn’t welcome her sticking her nose into any more than that.
Shandie took the hint and shrugged. “All I know is that if I were you, I’d go.”
“Why?”
“It’s Thanksgiving, the start of the holiday season, your friends are getting together, it sounds fun, and I say bury whatever hatchets there are. Go, have a good time, forget about anything else that’s gone on.”
They’d reached their common street and her house. Dax pulled into her driveway. He put the engine into Park and applied the emergency brake but left the engine and the heater on as he slung one wrist over the top of the steering wheel and pivoted enough to look her eye-to-intense-espresso-brown-eye.
Shandie might have thought he was angry except that around his lips was just the teaser of a mischief-filled smile.
“I’ll go if you will,” he said offhandedly.
“Me?” Shandie exclaimed. “Where did that come from? I wasn’t invited.”
“Maybe I’m inviting you. I can bring someone, why not you? At least then I’d know that one of us would benefit from it.”
“Why
