evening Luke had suggested Scrabble. But she was on a mission now to prove they had fun.
“And Luke showed me how to play virtual bowling!”
“Wow!”
It let her know how wise her avoidance strategy was. He was sarcastic. It was hard to hold that fault in the forefront, though, in light of his good deed. He was taking her nephew for ice cream.
“I bet you threw the bowling ball backward.”
“How could you know that?”
“Psychic. That should help me fit right in on the farm.”
“Oh!”
“I warned you. Sarcastic.”
“How did you really know? About the bowling ball?”
“I’ve played that game.”
“Oh, so you threw the ball backward?”
“No.” Suddenly he seemed impatient with the conversation. “Anyway, I thought I should ask your permission before I took Luke for ice cream.”
It was so respectful it could make a woman forgive sarcasm. Or at least one who did not have her guard way up.
“That wasn’t necessary. Of course you can take him.” Ridiculous to somehow feel deflated that she wasn’t being invited.
Then Brendan said, “Luke would like you to come with us.”
Not him. Luke.
She looked at the sick iguana. And suddenly was overcome by weakness, not wanting to have to make this decision herself.
“I’m at the vet’s office with Iggy, an iguana who has eaten something.”
“Iggy,” Brendan repeated slowly. “I thought you told me you didn’t name them?”
“Who would get attached to an iguana?” she said, but the truth was maybe she already was. She didn’t want to bring him home to die. Or put him to sleep.
She told Brendan what was going on. It was his chance to say I told you so, but he didn’t, and she felt it was another test he’d passed.
Another one that she hadn’t meant to give him.
“You have a contingency fund?” he asked.
“Yes, but Brendan, that money would be so much better used educating people not to buy iguanas as pets. And the contingency fund isn’t huge. What if I spend it on him, and then have an emergency next week?”
“On something with a little more of a cute factor than an iguana?”
She didn’t mean to, but she started to cry. And she wasn’t sure if it was because of the damned iguana that she’d been foolish enough to accept a name for, or because Brendan had gone virtual bowling with someone else who had thrown the ball the wrong way.
Or because it wasn’t his idea to ask her out for ice cream.
It was Becky he’d played that silly game with. At a Christmas function? Everyone having hysterics at her lack of coordination.
He realized, holding the phone, that this was the first time he’d had a memory of Becky that made him feel anything. It was as if, after she died, he had started focusing on his failure to protect her, and that had erased all the good things from his mind.
But somewhere, had he also thought that thinking of the good would be that thing? That thing that would break him wide-open?
His contemplation of his treacherous inner landscape was cut blessedly short when Brendan heard a soft snuffling noise on the other end of the phone line. He tried to dismiss it as static, but the hair on the back of his neck prickled.
Maybe he was psychic. “Are you crying?”
The truth was his inner landscape seemed less treacherous than that.
The truth was he knew Nora Anderson had been avoiding him. And the truth was, he knew it had been a good thing. For them to avoid each other. Look at how quickly his intention to be a Good Samaritan by making her laugh had become complicated. By her hips under his hands. And then by her lips. On his.
“N-n-no.”
But she was. Crying. Was it over an iguana? He was pretty sure she had said she was used to dealing with tragedy with animals. She had strategies for not getting attached.
Not that she seemed to stick to any of them!
An awful possibility occurred to him. Maybe it was because he had just thought of his wife that he was suddenly aware how quickly things could go sideways.
“Have you been having outbursts since you hit your head?” he asked.
“I am not having an outburst!” Now Nora was insulted.
Brendan was astounded that he felt guilty. When he’d been dancing her down the aisle of the animal shelter, he really should have been asking her concussion-related questions. And instead of doing the easy thing, and avoiding her and all the complications that her lips had caused in his uncomplicated life over the last few days, he should have been evaluating her medical condition.
“Have you been to see a doctor?” he asked.
“I don’t need a doctor!”
“Look, outbursts can be a sign of concussion—”
“I am not having an outburst!” Each word was enunciated with extreme control, and then the phone went dead in his hands. Nora Anderson had hung up on him!
It seemed to Brendan that hanging up on someone could be evidence of an outburst.
Luke, flushed from heat, his hair flattened by sweat, came out of the flower bed, a tangle of bramble in his gloved hand. “Is Aunt Nora coming with us? For ice cream.”
“I’m not sure what your aunt is doing.” Except he was sure she was crying over an iguana. “Has she, er, been having outbursts?”
“What does that mean?”
“Crying. Snapping.”
“Oh. You mean PMS.”
Brendan wasn’t sure if he should reprimand Luke or not, but a look of such deep masculine sympathy passed between them that he just couldn’t.
Luke seemed to contemplate the fact his aunt might be a little off today. “Maybe just bring me back a milkshake,” he muttered, and disappeared into the garden again.
Then he peeked back out. “Can you get something for Deedee, too? And just a little dish of vanilla for Ranger. I’ll pay for it.” He glanced toward the house. “She’s trying not to. But she likes him. Ranger.”
There seemed to be a bit of that going around. People trying not to
