Somebody to Love(108)

There was a moment of absolute silence in the bar.

“Unattended candles are a leading cause of house fires,” someone said, and there was a ripple of nervous laughter.

“It’s not what you think, Parker,” James said.

“No,” she agreed, looking at him, and for a second, he saw hurt flash across her eyes. “It’s not.” She reached into her pocket and fished out some bills.

“On the house, honey,” Dewey said, giving James a dirty look.

“Let me take you home.” Collier Rhodes stood next to James. “Buddy, I think she’s done with you.”

“Thanks, Collier.” Parker stood up and looked over the bar patrons. “Guys, it’s been absolutely lovely being here this summer. Thank you for all your help and hospitality. I hope to come back and visit. Sorry for the drama.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing,” Chantal said. “Don’t even worry about it.”

“Come to the diner for breakfast tomorrow,” Maggie said. “Bring your little cutie.”

“I will. Thanks.”

And with that, she left, not looking back at him. Collier held the door.

When James got back to the apartment, Leah was dressed, her little overnight bag sitting by the door. “Hi,” she said wetly.

“Hi,” he murmured.

“I guess I’ll go. I’m really sorry. I should’ve called.”

James sighed and glanced at his watch. He sat heavily in the other kitchen chair and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“Leah, I have to say, I’m really surprised to see you.”

“I stopped in at the hardware store, and some old guy told me where you lived.” She looked like a pinup girl, all chest and h*ps and little rosebud mouth. Pretty as anything. She bit her fingernail, then folded her hands. “James, I know we put things on hold, sort of. Well, you did. I was pretty into you. I thought if I could surprise you and remind you that I’m really fun, then maybe you’d want to get together again.” Her voice faded to a whisper as she spoke.

He sighed. God, he was tired. He hadn’t slept much since Nicky disappeared. “You are fun, Leah. You’re really nice and sweet and fun.”

“Just not what you’re looking for.” A tear dropped onto the table, and she smeared it with one fingertip. “You’re a really good guy, James. That’s not easy to find.”

He looked at her a long minute, then took her hand. “I’m sorry.”

She swallowed and shrugged, trying to smile. “So you and Parker finally hooked up, huh?”

He nodded. “Hooked up and broke up.”

“You in love with her?”

Another nod.

“Figures. I’d probably be, too, if I was a guy. Or a lesbian.”

He had to smile at that. “Leah, I meant what I said. You’re great, and you’re gorgeous, and someday, you’ll—”

“Meet the right guy someday and have babies and a dog.”

“Exactly. But I’m not the right guy.”

She surreptitiously wiped away a tear. “At least you never led me on. Never pretended it was more than it was.”

No. He’d used her and let her use him, and somewhere along the line, she’d fallen for him, and he hadn’t noticed.

“Stay here tonight. You can have the bed. It’s a long drive.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He sighed, squeezed her hand and stood up. “You hungry?” he asked. “I make some killer pancakes.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

TWENTY-TWO.

Maybe that wasn’t what should’ve stuck with Parker, but hell. Twenty-two. Thing One’s girlfriend was thirteen years younger than she was. Thirteen years! No stretch marks there. No droopage. No crow’s feet when you’re twenty-two.

“Here you go, Parker,” Maggie said, setting down a plate of French toast and bacon. “Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all.” Her son was washing the floor with Georgie, apparently the greatest activity on God’s green earth.

“So how are you today?” Maggie asked gently.

“Well, I’m pretty embarrassed. I don’t usually go to bars and screech at people.”

“No? A pity.” Maggie smiled. “Once, I got drunk at a church supper and told our priest I was in love with him.”

“I feel better,” Parker said. She squeezed Maggie’s hand. “Everyone has been so nice to me in this town.”

“We like you,” Maggie said simply. “So tell me about home.”

Parker did, describing Mackerly and its many charms, the Mirabellis, Lucy’s little café, the beautiful library where she and Nicky had spent so many hours, the bridge over the tidal river.

It would be so good to get back. Back and safe from the vagaries of love and lust and whatever else was mucking up her life.

“Maybe we’ll come visit sometime,” Maggie said. “I haven’t been to Rhode Island in ages.”

“I would love that! Malone was the first person I met here. I’m very…fond of him. Is that okay to say?”

“He’s hot, what can I tell you? Women love him. And he has no idea, which only makes him hotter. Oh, hey, speak of the devil. Matthew Malone, come sit with your bride. Our friend’s leaving tomorrow.”