finagled his way into playing seven minutes in heaven with her. That kiss had lasted somewhere in the neighborhood of four seconds.
Leslie had been a little slip of a girl in those days but she’d packed a mighty wallop.
Undaunted, he’d pursued her through high school. It had actually turned into a game, and he’d always been the loser.
He would ask her out. She’d say no.
He’d call her. She’d hang up.
He’d tuck a note into her locker. She’d scrunch it into a ball and toss it in the trash.
A horn honking behind him told him the light had turned green. He was glad to have an excuse to get away from her for a while. Too bad it meant going to his mother’s place though. She would question his sudden need for women’s clothing, and he’d never been any good at flying under her radar.
Maybe she wouldn’t be home, he thought. He could just help himself to whatever he could find and she’d be none the wiser. He pulled up along the curb and spotted her ancient Dodge station wagon in the driveway. No such luck.
He sprinted through the rain to the back door and let himself in. “Mom? You home?”
“In here, dear. What brings you by this morning?”
He followed his nose into the kitchen. She was making chicken stew. “It’s almost lunchtime. And since when do I need a reason to visit the most gorgeous woman in Collingwood Station?”
“Since you’re blocking the street with a truckload of building materials and trying to use that sweet talk on someone who knows better than to fall for it.”
“We were supposed to start a new job on Monday. I have to deliver that load to the site sometime today, so I won’t be here for long.” He crossed the kitchen and planted a kiss on the top of her head.
“What do you mean by ‘supposed to’?” she asked.
“I might be tied up with something else for a few days.” He reached over her shoulder and snagged a piece of raw carrot from the pile on the chopping block.
“Watch it, young man, or you might lose one of those fingers.”
He laughed. “I’ll take my chances. Are you expecting company?” he asked. If the size of the stewpot was anything to go by, she was cooking for a crowd.
“I thought I’d make enough for a meal or two for myself and take the rest to the shelter. They’re a little short on food this weekend.”
At this rate she’d never be able to retire, but talking to her about it was a losing battle. She’d carry the weight of the whole world on her shoulders if anyone asked her to. His mother was younger than most of the mothers of his friends, but she often looked tired and older than she actually was. Today was one of those days.
She’d become a single parent at sixteen and had struggled through a lot of hardship. He remembered her helping him with homework while she studied and worked to put herself through college. Nothing had changed when she became a social worker. In spite of an ample salary, she still lived in the little old house she’d purchased twenty years ago, and somehow she managed to keep her geriatric Dodge running. Every spare penny went to help those who were less fortunate than she was.
She tossed handfuls of diced carrots and celery into the pot and started on the potatoes. “So, you haven’t told me what brings you by.”
He might as well cut to the chase. “I need to borrow a few things.”
“What would you like? And don’t tell me it’s take-out chicken stew. If you want any of that, you’ll have to come back and have dinner with me.”
“Sorry. No can do.”
“Your loss.” She gave him one of her big, warm smiles. “So if it’s not food, what are you after?”
“I need some women’s clothing. Enough for a few days. Size four,” he said. “If you have anything.”
She set her knife on the butcher block and wiped her hands on a towel as she turned to face him.
“That’s an odd request.”
“Not really. A friend of mine is in kind of a jam and she needs a few things. Just temporarily, until…”
His explanation trailed off as his mother’s scrutiny intensified.
“Please tell me this friend of yours isn’t Leslie Durrance.”
Damn, she was good.
Chapter Two
“Why would you ask that?” As soon as he said it, he knew his evasiveness sounded like a yes.
And his mother’s eagle eye never missed a trick. “I stopped by Donaldson’s Deli to pick up the day-old bread that Mr. Donaldson donates to the shelter. The place was buzzing. Apparently she bolted and left Gerald whatshis-name at the altar.”
“Man, what is it with this town and gossip?”
“You haven’t answered my question, and that usually means—”
“Okay, fine. She’s at my place,” he confessed. Yes, at that very moment Leslie Durrance was in his bathtub. Naked and single. “And she has nothing to wear but a soaking-wet wedding dress and a pair of high-heeled shoes.”
“Do I even dare ask how she ended up with you?”
“I was driving by the church—”
“Oh, Brent. You can’t be serious.”
“What do you mean?”
“You might be able to fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. I thought you were over her years ago but even if you’re not, why torture yourself by driving by the church on her wedding day?”
He hated it when she looked at him like he was one of her homeless people. He didn’t want her to be concerned about him. He should be taking care of her for a change. “Under the circumstances it’s a good thing I showed up when I did.”
“Because?”
“She needed help.”
His mother let out a long sigh. “She’s a millionaire, Brent. She can buy anything she wants, when she wants it, without asking how much it costs. Why would she need your help?”
The sparkle of that enormous diamond ring flashed in his memory. “Well, she didn’t have her purse with her.”
His mother burst out laughing. “You dear, sweet boy. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my Prince Charming would race to her rescue.”
“It’s not like that, Mom. She hasn’t told me what happened, but I know Leslie. She wouldn’t run out on her wedding unless something really bad had happened. I get the feeling she wants to lie low for a couple of days and there’s no way she can do that in Collingwood Station, money
