Brown Eyed Girl Page 7

  Tiffany’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “Don’t forget to give him credit for those beautiful blue eyes of yours. Besides, I don’t see any freckles on you.”

  Red groaned. “I outgrew them, thank God.”

  “Do you remember your grandparents?”

  “I remember my grandfather a little—he died when I was four. Maw Maw Bess was the sweetest lady. She passed away just after I graduated from college.” Red’s eyes misted over at the memory. “She missed that old man until the day she died.”

  “Is that possible anymore, Red? Do people still have marriages like that?”

  “Sure they do. Look at my parents.”

  “I mean people who get married today. Are there any marriages like that for couples just starting out?”

  Red leveled a serious gaze on her. “Mine will be—I’m counting on it.”

  “Good luck with that. It doesn’t seem possible with today’s lifestyle and divorce rate,” she added.

  “That’s because too many people settle,” he said, as she sent him a look of amusement.

  “That’s big talk for a thirty-eight year old bachelor.”

  He raised one brow. “I don’t want to settle.”

  “Maybe you’re afraid of commitment.”

  Red gazed straight into Tiffany’s eyes. “I’m not afraid of anything. Not anymore.”

  “Well,” she murmured, once she seemed to get past the hitch in her breathing. “Maybe you should be.”

  He held her gaze, wanting to prove how ready he was to take this on...to take her on.

  Tiffany tore her gaze away first and walked around the room checking out his display of photography. She stopped in front of a grouped collection of LSU baseball shots. “I’ve seen these before. I’d forgotten you and Tanner played the same years. What position did you play?”

  Red gradually closed the gap between them, and stood with his mouth near her ear. “First base,” he said, near enough to disturb her hair with his breath. He studied her delicate ear, fighting off the sudden urge to nibble on the velvety lobe. “What about you?” he asked. “You’re thirty-six and unmarried, so does that mean you’re afraid of commitment?”

  She twisted a lock of her hair around one finger. “I definitely have a problem with commitment, but at least I’m engaged.”

  “For how long?”

  “Um…Two years now.”

  “Set a date yet?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Problem with commitment, remember?”

  He stepped closer. “Could be you have a problem with Tanner.”

  She took one step away from. “Could be,” she said, continuing to look at pictures until she stopped at a large leather bound book with the name Scott Brendan McAllister and the date January 28th stamped in gold on its cover. “May I?”

  “Go ahead.” Red watched her sit on the double lounger to open the book. She turned to the first page and gasped.

  “I didn’t realize it was a photo album.”

  “My mom went online to a company and had one made for each of us for Christmas last year.”

  “I can’t imagine my mother going through that kind of trouble for Drake and me. You were a beautiful baby,” she said, referring to his first studio portrait.

  He cleared his throat. “I believe the word ‘handsome’ is a better description.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she touched the photo. “Babies are beautiful, and contrary to belief, not all babies are beautiful, but you definitely were,” she said.

  “I was kind of cute, huh?” He sat next to her, enjoying the nearness, wishing it would last, hoping she wouldn’t find some excuse to leave.

  She flipped through pages as he answered her questions about the photos. She laughed at the photo of him in 5th grade, the year he seemed to have an abundance of freckles, and groaned at pictures of him with braces. “That brings back bad memories,” she told him. “I hated my metal mouth pictures.”

  Tiffany saw pictures of him playing t-ball at five and six, on through coach pitch and finally baseball clear through high school. One page had his high school graduation photo with the words Gardiner High School Valedictorian – 4.0 GPA underneath. There were several photos of him with the Tiger baseball team and shots of him in action, as well as a few good shots of him and Jackson together. There were college graduation photos with the words “Our own Summa Cum Laude graduate!” in a bold font.

  She glanced at him with one brow lifted in amusement.

  “I told you so,” he said, flashing a confident grin.

  She smiled back at him. “I believed you.” She returned to the book, chuckling at the last several snapshots of him wearing nothing but a pair of swimming trunks and a cheesy grin while flexing his muscles for the photographer. “Who took these?”

  “Mom,” he said, seeing the caption under the photos that said, “It would be such a waste if these genes weren’t passed along!”

  He blushed at Tiffany’s look of amusement. “She always tells me if I don’t procreate before she dies, she’s going to haunt my ass,” he explained.

  She laughed nervously, but didn’t stop staring at the photos. “When were these taken?”

  “That was…the summer before last, after I finished my pool at the place in Lafayette. We had a huge birthday bash for mom and I was playing around. I can’t believe she put those in there,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You’re lucky they didn’t end up on the internet,” she said.

  Red removed a pack of snapshots from an envelope and handed them to her. “Here’s some of the club I opened up about three years ago. That’s my oldest brother, Chad and his wife, Julia,” he said pointing to a smiling couple sitting at the end of the table. “He’s the only one you haven’t met here today. They’re separated but we’re all hoping they’ll work it out. Julia was offered the chance to work in England for two years and Chad decided to go all macho jerk about it. He told her he wouldn’t move.”

  “You’re not upset with your sister-in-law?”

  “Nah, Julia’s the best. Chad’s being a stubborn ass.” He handed her a stack of snapshots taken when his latest club opened up. “You might recognize a few of these faces. This is opening night at the new place.”

  “Oh, yeah…I sure do,” she said, studying the snapshots of Jackson and Giselle. “Your club looks very classy and tastefully done.”

  “That’s what I wanted. The one in Lake Coburn won’t be as large as this, but just as nice, and the same rules will apply.”

  “When will you be opening?”

  “Doors open on New Year’s Eve. Think you’ll be able to make it? Jackson and Giselle will be there.” Tiffany closed the book, and stood to set the book down in her seat. He watched as she walked over to the window, wishing he knew what was going on in her mind.

  “I don’t know. How difficult is it to get in?” she asked.

  “Not difficult at all if you’re in good with the owner.”

  “I’d have to ask Tanner if he wants to go,” she said quietly, crossing her arms and looking down at her feet.

  Tiffany’s body language told him what he needed to know. Hell, everybody could see she was miserable with Tanner, so why couldn’t she?

  “Doc, you can’t tell me you’re happy with him.”

  She shrugged, but the ringing phone saved her from commenting any further. Red picked up the pool house extension, checking out the caller ID. “It’s for you,” he said, handing it to her.

  “This is Dr. LeBlanc,” she said into the phone.

  Red’s heart sank as she checked her watch and said she’d be in by four, although somewhat comforted by the fact that at least she wasn’t leaving him to go to Tanner.

  “I’ve got to go,” she mumbled, handing him the phone.

  He held the door open for her before accompanying her back into his home. As she collected her things and stepped into the living room, all heads turned their direction.

  “Happy Thanks
giving, everybody—thanks for letting me crash your party,” she said.

  “Where are you off to?” Vivienne asked, as she, Melissa, and Bailey went to her.

  “The hospital called, I have to go in. It was lovely seeing you again, Mrs. McAllister.” She held out her hand to Vivienne.

  “Call me Vivienne, please. It was wonderful seeing you again, Tiffany. I enjoyed the talk earlier.”

  Red watched his mother bypass Tiffany’s hand and pull her into a hug. He overheard Vivienne’s quiet message whispered hurriedly into her ear.

  “I hope next time we meet, I’ll see the real you.”

  “You just may, Vivienne,” Tiffany whispered back before turning to Bailey and Melissa. “It was good seeing the two of you.” She reached into her purse and pulled out two business cards. “Both my numbers are on here—call me.” She hugged the two women. “I wish I could stay longer. Bye everyone,” she said again, smiling as Jackson and Giselle both blew her kisses.

  Red held the front door open for her and followed her out, at the last aiming a warning glare in his sisters’ direction. He frowned, mouthing the word ‘Don’t’ before shutting the door, but knowing full well it was pointless to expect them not to spy.

  Red walked Tiffany to her car. “So, how about it Doc, are you glad you came?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “I am. It felt good to let go and have some fun. Thanks for letting me be a part of this today.”

  “You’re welcome here anytime—I hope you know that.”

  She gazed up at him, her face a study in curiosity. “What about Tanner?”

  He bowed gallantly. “If you must,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “I’d be civil for your sake, and I promise not to break his nose, Tiffy.”

  She poked him playfully in the chest. “Don’t call me that again.”

  “If it’s good enough for Tanner, it should be good enough for me...Tiffy,” he taunted.

  “Stop it,” she said, this time with more conviction.

  “Aw, but Tiffy is such a cute little nickname…like Buffy or—”

  “I’m warning you, Red!” she said, her anger plainly evident.

  “You don’t stop Tanner from saying it, why should you stop me, huh Tiffy?”

  Before he knew it, she’d popped him good on the mouth.

  “Stop it!” she snapped.

  He grabbed her wrist in one swift movement. “You know, Doc, that’s the second time you slap me in less th—” His accusation trailed off as he witnessed something else, something just as heated, replace the fury in her eyes. His heart pumped furiously as he stepped closer, pressing her back firmly up against the car. His breath quickened, matching her own rapid panting as she gazed up at him with eyes the color of rich, melted chocolate.

  Damn it all, but I could get lost in those eyes. Without a doubt, he’d never wanted someone so bad before.

  “Doc...” Not wanting to scare her off, he lowered his mouth to hers in an agonizingly slow movement. In a perfect world that would have been enough and she’d have let him kiss her. But this was reality, and a second before their lips would have met, her whispered plea stopped him.

  “Don’t Red, please.”

  Red paused, pulling back enough to watch her long eyelashes flutter closed. He let go of her wrist and slowly, gently, moved that hand behind her head to pull her up against his chest.

  Stiff with tension, she clenched the sides of his shirt until the tension eased slowly from her body. Her hands slid to his back as she finally settled comfortably against him.

  Red brought his right arm around to pull her closer and they stood, holding each other, surrounded by the quiet sounds of late autumn. The north wind whipped through the yard full of pecans, oaks, and silver leaf maple trees, sending the dry leaves skittering across the ground around their feet.

  “You feel so damn good,” he whispered. “Like you belong here.”

  “Oh God…don’t say that,” she murmured into his shirt.

  He moved his hand to the back of her neck, gently massaging, as he pressed the softest of kisses upon her crown. “Doc...Please don’t marry Tanner,” he whispered, not caring if his plea sounded desperate. He was desperate—desperate to make her see how good they’d be together—desperate for her to give him a chance to prove it to her.

  She buried her face in his shirt and spoke through muffled sobs. “Oh God, please don’t say anything more, Red. I have to go.”

  He took a deep breath to fortify himself. “I know,” he said, as he reluctantly released her and backed away so she could get into her car.

  She started the engine, avoiding eye contact with him as she shifted into drive. Keeping her head lowered, she sat there with her foot on the brakes, the steering wheel tightly clenched in both hands. He tapped lightly on her window with his knuckle then flattened his palm on the glass.

  Tiffany looked up, her eyes wide with agonized longing. Red’s breath caught painfully in his chest as he caught the shimmering of tears on her long lashes. Just as he reached for the door handle, she released the brakes. He stood, hands shoved deep in his pockets, watching the slow progression of her car, every second taking her further out of reach.

  He took his time walking back to the house, not quite ready to replace the memory of having her in his arms. Once inside, he leaned against the door jamb, observing the couples in the room. Whether they held hands, curled a foot or leg around the other or lightly touched an arm or shoulder, there was some form of contact. Red met Jackson’s gaze and shrugged at the unspoken message of understanding from his friend.

  He turned to meet his parents as they entered the kitchen through the patio door. He returned his mom’s smile and accepted a hug from her.

  “Now, tell me the truth,” he said in a low voice. “How big of an audience did we have while we were out there?”

  “Oh, about what you’d expect after being raised in this family,” she said, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “All your sisters, Sienna, and Giselle—It’s been reported that you handled yourself very well, even though you didn’t kiss her.”

  Red felt the heavy, but comforting weight of his dad’s hand on his shoulder.

  “That call from the hospital sure was lousy timing, wasn’t it, Son?”

  “It’s sucked all the fun out of this day for me,” he told his father. “But, that’s her work, and I’d sure as hell put up with it for one chance with her.”

  “Only one?” Vivienne smiled and gave his cheek a reassuring pat.

  He turned his gaze on his mother. “One chance, Mom, I swear that’s all it’ll take. But I won’t get it unless she finds the strength to walk away from Tanner.”

  Chapter 5

  Tiffany entered the condo, both mentally and physically exhausted. Although she’d put in a grueling four hours at the hospital, she knew her exhaustion was due more to unresolved feelings floating around in her head and heart. As soon as she’d left Red’s presence, a distinct sadness had settled upon her, leaving her feeling desolate and alone.

  She thought of the ballad she’d sung at his request. Could she learn to let go, to forgive, to love those things in her life that she couldn’t change—one of those things being Tanner? Could she love him the way he was or should she let him go and change her life? Her head was spinning from all the questions. If she just had someone she could talk to.

  Tiffany stepped out of her shoes to leave them at the door. She attempted to shake off her exhaustion, not an easy thing to do when a return to her home depressed her to no end. She freed her hair from its ponytail and noticed the answering machine flashing. Six messages, probably all from Tanner. Ignoring the machine, she went straight to her bathroom, turned the taps on in the tub, and poured in her favorite bath salts.

  Making her way back to the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of wine out of the cooler, along with a glass and a cordless phone. She placed the items on the wide tile ledge of her whirlpool tub, the one thing she truly enjoyed about this place.

&nb
sp; After powering on the wall mounted radio system and tuning it to her favorite country station, she eased herself into the steaming water. A low groan accompanied the settling of tired limbs into the water, and she allowed herself a few quiet minutes of soak time. Without lifting her head, Tiffany used her toe to turn on the jets. She had just poured herself a glass of wine and laid her head back when her cordless phone began to ring. She kept her eyes closed and waited for the machine to pick up, certain the caller was Tanner. She clenched her jaw, bracing herself for the sound of his whining, pleading, excuse-making voice. She was in no mood for his crap tonight. He could damn well leave message number seven.

  She waited expectantly while the answering machine finished its pre-recorded message. There was a pause from the caller before she heard the one word that had her reaching for two things...the towel and the phone.

  “Doc?”

  Tiffany fumbled with the towel, trying to dry her hands.

  “I hope I called the right number—it’s hard to tell from the recorded message. I’ll keep trying to call your cell but I figure it’s still turned off. I really wanted to see if you were okay and...well...I needed to...”

  She finally reached the phone and pushed the ‘talk’ button. “Red, I’m here! Hold on,” she said as she pushed a button on the phone to stop the machine from recording. She heard it cut off with a beep. “Okay.”

  “Hey Doc, I just wanted to tell you...um... that you left your casserole dish here.”

  “Oh,” she said nervously.

  “And...well...I really wanted to see if you were okay. I hope I didn’t say or do anything to upset you when you had to go to the hospital.”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “When did you get home?”

  “About five minutes before you called.”