Ticket To Ride (Passing Through Series Book 2), page 8
“How noble of you.” Claire backed away from him.
“Not really.” Finn closed the distance. She could put up her barriers with everyone else, but he wanted beneath them. “It seemed like the best solution for everyone. I love Poppy, but I’m not in love with her. She’s kind, sweet, capable, and clever, and I would have done my best to make her happy.”
“And yourself? What was in it for you?” Her back hit a pillar and she stopped.
Finn kept coming. “I wanted to make things right, and I wasn’t going to get married anyway.”
“Why not?” Her breathing hitched as he drew closer. She didn’t like it, but she liked having him close.
Finn leaned in. By sheer willpower he stopped a breath away from her. The last thing Claire needed right now was some horny asshole hitting on her. “I’m not the marrying kind.”
Claire slid out from under his arm. “God, that’s so predictable. Another man who doesn’t want to be tied down.”
“Some of us have good reason for that.” This part of his story he’d have to get closer to her to share. “And some of us know ourselves well enough to know we’re not husband and father material.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not in love with her?”
“I’m sure.” He leaned against the pillar and stopped himself from closing the gap. “And it’s good thing she said no, because I’m no woman’s happily ever after.”
Chapter Seven
Tara called the next morning. “Claire, babe,” she said. “Get yourself together; we’re getting the hell out of this shithole for the day.”
She hung up before Claire could answer. Claire lay in bed for a while staring at the intricately pressed ceiling. She didn’t really want to get herself together Tara-style. Getting up and pulling on jeans and a casual shirt could get to be a habit.
God, her mother would be horrified. Claire should be horrified, but she wasn’t.
A knock on her door got her out of bed. She tossed her robe on and prayed it wasn’t Horace ready for another battle.
Ryan stood on the other side with a piece of paper in his hand. “You didn’t look at your drawing yesterday.”
“You’re right.” After her fight with Horace, she’d retreated to her room and stayed there until the house fell quiet. Her intention had been to sneak down later and make herself something to eat, but she’d fallen asleep. “I’m really sorry.”
“You can look now.” Ryan thrust it at her.
Claire tried her best, but she couldn’t make sense of the colorful blobs on the page.
Ryan stared up at her. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” Claire told him. “I’m going to keep it here in my room where I can look at it every day.”
“Good.” Ryan nodded and went on his toes and pointed. “It’s you and me. And over here are Brinn and Ciara.” She could make out a head on one of the blobs. “This is Mom and Ben, and Uncle Finn and Horace. And we all live here together.”
“It’s a lovely picture, Ryan.” In a perfect world it might even be possible, but they didn’t live in a perfect world. “I love it.”
“Okay.” Ryan pointed over his shoulder. “Well, I got to go now and eat, and then I need to go to school.”
“Have the best day.”
Ryan grinned at her over his shoulder. “You too.”
She got into the shower. After yesterday with Travis it seemed best to stay away from the kitchen over breakfast. The family chattered and clanged downstairs as they got their day started. Growing up an only child she had never been surrounded by this much activity. It made you aware you weren’t alone.
Not that she minded being alone. She spent most of her life alone. She had her job, a few friends and she’d had Greg, but she wasn’t a social butterfly. Especially lately when Mom’s care had cut into her free time and her discretionary budget.
Putting her makeup on felt a bit odd. Knowing she would spend the day with Tara, she did a full face and even straightened her hair. She added a pair of heels to her skinny black pants and a button-up shirt with a trench.
When she was ready, she went downstairs for a cup of coffee.
Poppy entered the kitchen from outside at the same time and they stopped and stared at each other.
“Wow.” Poppy took in her outfit. “You look amazing. If I wore that, I’d look like a hippie version of Columbo.”
Helping herself to coffee, Claire had to laugh. “No, you wouldn’t, but given your children I wouldn’t go with the pale blue trench.”
“You have a point.” Poppy helped herself to coffee and added a hefty dollop of creamer.
“I didn’t invite Travis here yesterday.” Claire had no idea why she blurted that out, but it might have something to do with the forty-dollar story Horace had told her yesterday. As crazy as the story was, it fit Poppy more than the gold-digger narrative.
Poppy stopped and looked at her over her coffee cup. “But you did call him?”
“Yes.” She didn’t like explaining herself, but whether she agreed with it or not, Poppy lived here, and this would affect her. “It was more for information than anything else.”
“Okay.” Poppy nodded. “For the record I think it would be sad to sell this house. It’s a special place.”
“There are…circumstances.” She didn’t want to betray Mom. “Things I can’t really speak about.”
“That’s what Finn says.” Poppy sipped her coffee. “If you ever do think you can speak about those circumstances, I know we’d all like to hear them.”
“Okay.”
They sipped their coffee in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t exactly comfortable or companionable either. More like neutral.
That all changed when Tara cat-walked through the kitchen door. If she’d had a tail, she would be twitching it at the sight of Poppy.
“Poppy.” Tara sneered and turned to Claire and then clapped. “Now, there’s my girl. I was starting to worry I would lose you to the mom-jean brigade.”
Poppy flipped through a recipe book, ruining all Tara’s malice.
“Let’s get going.” Claire didn’t want to sit through Tara sharpening her claws on Poppy again. Poppy didn’t deserve what Tara dished out.
She hustled Tara out the front door as fast as she could.
Tara had tossed Ben away long before Poppy had arrived on the scene. Claire knew for a fact that she’d had more affairs while Ben was on active duty than even Twin Elks gossiped about. Why Tara should resent the other woman escaped her.
Finn was on the porch, plaid shirt sleeves pushed up as he crouched and nailed a lose board down.
Tara stopped close to him, forcing him to look up the length of her legs. “Hey, Finn.”
“Tara.” He barely spared her a glance. Looking past her, his gaze locked on Claire. Something flickered through his gaze that she didn’t catch. “You look…nice.”
“Don’t hold back there, Finn.” Tara shifted and cut her off from Finn’s eye line.
“I said she looks nice.” Finn shrugged.
“I’m taking my girl out for the day, for a bit of grown up fun.” Tara made it sound vaguely dirty. “Want to join us?”
“Nope.” Finn dropped his head to his work again. “Have fun.”
Was there a little extra swing in Tara’s sashay as she made her way to her car?
Not that Claire blamed her. Finn really was all that. She turned and caught him looking at her. He gave his head a brief shake and went back to his work.
“Babe,” Tara giggled as Claire climbed in and shut the car door. “That Finn Williams does not like you.”
“What?” Finn liked her just fine. At least she thought he did. “Why do you say that?”
“Jesus.” Tara pulled into the street with a screech of tires. “You’d think he could find something nice to say about how you looked. Even if he had to lie.”
She didn’t think Finn cared what she wore too much, and Claire gave a noncommittal hum in response. She was sure, however, that he did not like Tara. “What’s the plan for today?”
“Shopping!” Tara trilled and fluttered a hand through the air. “Nordstrom’s have got a huge sale on, and they’re making way for their new line. We have to check it out. I hear they’ve got a new range of Jimmy’s in.”
Claire smiled and tried to look enthusiastic, but she wouldn’t be buying Jimmy Choos anytime soon. Not when most of her salary went to keep Mom comfortable.
Tara babbled on about a new sushi place for lunch and then cocktails at some new bar, which had opened down from the mall. It sounded like a really long day ahead of her.
They had a two-hour drive to Denver, so Claire sunk into her seat and watched the passing scenery. It really was very pretty with its bright orange rock faces pushing up between the scrub brush. In summer it turned a rich, vibrant green and hummed with insect and animal life.
Fortunately, conversation with Tara didn’t require much more input than the occasional murmur or grunt.
The look on Finn’s face when she’d left had been perilously close to disappointment. Like he was disappointed in her. Was that because she was going off with Tara or did it have something to do with Travis and the day before?
She could ask him. That was the good thing with Finn, he’d give her a straight answer.
“What do you think?” Tara paused.
Claire realized she hadn’t been listened. “Sorry, I missed that.”
“God, Claire.” Tara rolled her eyes. “Have you gone country slow on me?”
“Not that I’m aware.”
“I said I think Poppy’s using Ben because she wants a baby daddy.” She snorted. “Jesus! Can you imagine foisting four kids on some man? All I can say is that bitch must suck dick like a champion.”
Ick! Ben didn’t look like Poppy’s children were the slightest bit foisted on him. In fact, if she had just met them, she would have assumed they were Ben’s children. “He’s good with them.”
“Of course, he is.” Tara did her hand flutter thing. “Because that’s Ben. He’s an all-round nice guy.”
“Yeah, he is.” Claire had never had a problem with Ben. Like Finn he was a straight shooter and you always knew were you stood with him.
Tara made a growling noise. “When I think of that insipid woman getting all that Ben Crowe action, I want to smack something.” She did. She slapped her steering wheel. “God, that man can fuck you into next week.”
So much more information than Claire ever wanted to have about Ben. Then again, lucky Poppy to be getting some. Claire couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten herself some. Things with Greg had been stale for a while.
“So, speaking of sex.” Tara tittered. “I met a guy.”
“Yeah?” Again, with Tara and the guys. Claire had no idea how she did it.
“The sex is okay,” Tara said. “But the black Amex is a definite plus.”
A black Amex would make a lot of Claire’s problems go away. She spoke her next thought out loud and immediately regretted it. “How much do you think Horace is worth?”
“Horace is fucking loaded.” Tara gave her a hard stare. “Tell me you’ve got daddy’s credit card with you today?”
“No.” She really wished she’d kept her speculation to herself, because she hadn’t been thinking about what she could get out of her father, but more of a general curiosity. “I don’t take money from Horace.”
Tara gaped at her. “Why the fuck not?”
“It doesn’t seem right.”
Tara was silent for a while, and then she said, “But everyone knows you come here and get money from him.”
“It’s not what everyone thinks.” Claire stopped herself from saying more. Mom would hate to have her problem aired in Twin Elks. She needed the money for Mom’s care and not even Horace knew that. People liked to think the worst of her, and she didn’t care enough to correct them.
If everyone else saw her as a venal opportunist, it probably meant Finn saw her that way. That disturbed her more than it should.
Tara looked like she would ask for more, so Claire changed direction. “Tell me about Mr. Black Amex.”
“I can do better than that.” Tara dug in her wallet. “I can introduce you to the most important part of Mr. Black Amex.”
“Does he know you have that?”
“Of course, he does.” Tara shrugged. “He doesn’t care. Anyway, he has so much money he wouldn’t notice little old me.”
Claire spent the morning watching Tara spend money. And spend money. Even Mr. Black Amex had to be getting a headache at that point.
To be fair, Tara offered to spend some of it on her, but she declined. Firmly. If she wouldn’t take money from Horace, she wasn’t going to sponge off a man she’d never met. It did raise an interesting question, however.
Just how mercenary did people think she was?
By the time Tara had exhausted every high-end store she liked the look of, Claire’s feet were more than happy to let her sink into the white leather banquette at an upscale cocktail bar Tara dragged her into.
They ordered from a waiter who almost tripped into Tara’s cleavage. Tara had insisted on changing into a little black number before cocktails. Claire had resisted and now felt more like the bodyguard to her gorgeous client.
“Four o’clock.” Tara made eyes at Claire. “Looking our way.”
Claire very nearly groaned. Other than her sore feet, she was all peopled out. She didn’t know how she had lived like that for most of her life. Of course, since Mom had been ill, her social life had slowed to a trickle.
Still, this used to be her jam.
Tara’s four o’clock was a pair of suits, wearing identical too-cool-for-enthusiasm expressions, but not too cool for circling.
One the things she liked about Finn was that he never played it cool.
She wanted to be sitting on the porch, drinking beer with Finn and trying not to get lost in those blue, blue eyes. Even if he had exhibited the unfortunate tendency to be a good guy when she had drunkenly tossed herself at him.
“Sit back, girl, and let Tara work her magic.” Tara waggled her fingers. “And maybe you could undo a top button? Put on a little lipstick? Look like you’re trying?”
That jerked Claire right back to the present. “What? No.”
But Tara had already made eye contact.
Holy crap! Claire felt like she was watching a master class in…something. Seduction would be too subtle a word for the eye-humping Tara treated her four o’clock to. It was more like no-contact porn.
Part of her envied the confidence behind that look. It would be a nice gift to have in your arsenal.
With the predictable results.
“Hi.” Suit number one leered at Tara. He indicated the shopping bags littering the floor beside the booth. “You ladies been shopping?”
Tara sucked in her bottom lip. “Maybe I’m still shopping.”
His friend hung back and looked nearly as pained as Claire felt. Their gazes met for a moment and Claire had to look away before she laughed.
Meanwhile, Tara and suit one—who introduced himself as Gray—sat wedged together on the other side of the booth.
Claire made space for his friend.
Still looking a bit awkward, he slid in beside her. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
He cleared his throat. “So, do you come—” He looked horrified.
“Come here often?” His wry smile in response made Claire laugh.
Tara’s throaty laugh drifted over. Gray had his arm over the back of the banquette and was about two inches from swinging a leg over.
Claire took pity on her guy. “I’m Claire.”
She caught him with a mouthful of beer. He swallowed, choked a bit and came up coughing. “Andy.”
“And to answer your original question, I’ve never been here before.”
Andy mopped himself up with a cocktail napkin. “Me neither.”
“I couldn’t tell.” Claire handed him her napkin to finish the job.
“Right.” Andy laughed. “Because I’m super smooth.”
Claire liked his self-deprecating humor. “So smooth.”
“How’s your drink?”
“Good.” She’d barely taken a sip of her dirty martini.
Tara squealed and clapped her hand. “I love champagne.”
Oh, dear.
Andy may or may not have sighed.
Not that it would have done any good. Gray was flagging down a waiter and still trying to maintain maximum eye contact with Tara.
Eyes gleaming, cheeks flushed, Tara looked to be having the best time.
“I’m not really…” Andy flushed and gestured the bar. “This is not really my thing. Gray and I work together, and he thought I should come with him.”
There was something endearing about Andy. Claire thought she’d got the better suit. “Tara thought I needed to be rescued.”
“How’s that going?”
Claire sipped her drink. “Great.”
Andy snort-laughed, and this time didn’t apologize. His total lack of game made her relax.
The champagne arrived and was opened with as much flourish as Tara and Gray’s combined showmanship could muster.
“Come on, Claire.” Tara handed her a glass. “You love champagne.”
Rather than cause more of a scene, Claire took the glass.
“Do you?” Andy asked quietly.
“What?”
“Love champagne?”
Claire gave that some thought. “I like champagne,” she said. “At weddings. Maybe for a special occasion.”
