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Authors: Dixie Lee Brown
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she passed Peg’s office, she caught a glimpse of her talking to Garrett. Rachel couldn’t help wishing Peg would put the outsider in his place firmly enough that he’d take his bag and his dog and go home.
Well, actually, he could leave Cowboy. The dog at least was well-mannered and didn’t talk all the time. That put a smile on her face as she entered the kitchen.
“There you are.” Dory’s consistently cheery voice came from halfway inside the oven where she was testing the temperature of the meat. “There’s a new guest in the house tonight. With you, Peg, Jonathan, and Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, that makes six. When you set the table, be sure to put the new hunk next to you.”
“He’s not a guest,” Rachel mumbled. But was Garrett a hunk? He was attractive, she’d give him that, but as soon as she’d discovered who he was, he ceased to be anything but the detestable man who’d made Amanda cry once a month like clockwork and probably other times in between that no one had known about. Rachel had learned that outward appearance usually meant zilch. What was inside made the man, and as far as she could tell, Garrett didn’t have it in that department. “Why would I want him to sit by me?” She returned Dory’s impish grin with a scowl. The other woman’s sparkling blue eyes and dimpled cheeks soon had Rachel choking on a laugh.
Dory chuckled loudly. “That just proves it right there, girl. When was the last time you made hot monkey love with the likes of Mr. McDreamy out there?” Her gaze skewered Rachel, demanding an answer.
Dory Sullivan was about as cute as they came. Two years older than Rachel, with a petite figure that could stop traffic, she had no trouble getting dates. She also had no qualms about dispensing advice to those less fortunate, a position Rachel had found herself in more times than she cared to count.
“We’ve talked about this, Dory. Still not interested.” Rachel sidestepped the question, but couldn’t escape the shiver that feathered along her spine. So she didn’t trust men easily. What was so wrong with that? There’d been a time, many years ago, when she’d given her heart, soul, and body to the man of her dreams. Those dreams had somehow turned into a living nightmare. She was happier and safer on her own, despite what Dory thought.
Dory straightened, and her blonde head wagged back and forth. “You’re not getting any younger you know, Rach.”
They both laughed. “Yeah, well, the last time I checked, twenty-eight was still too young for assisted living.” Rachel grabbed an apron from the hangers beside the refrigerator and tied it around her as she stepped forward.
“It all depends on who’s doing the assisting, in my opinion.” Dory’s grin widened.
Rachel rolled her eyes and grimaced. “Would you stop, please? Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Set the table. And then stir the gravy while I whip up my famous broccoli salad.” Dory handed Rachel a wooden stirring spoon as she passed her on the way to the refrigerator. With one hand on the door handle, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Are you still getting those calls?”
Rachel stiffened even as she pasted a phony smile on her face. If only she hadn’t confided in Dory last week after her friend had witnessed her answer three calls in a row with either heavy breathing or silence on the line. Thank goodness she’d sworn her to secrecy so Rachel didn’t have to worry about Peg finding out. “No. Must have just been kids playing pranks.” She grabbed plates and silverware and headed toward the dining room, hoping Dory would buy her lie.
After making quick work of the table settings, she folded simple place cards and put one at each seat. It would be foolish to deny her friend’s suggestion completely when it was within her power to ensure that Garrett sat as far away from her as possible. Upon returning to the kitchen, Dory was occupied with last-minute preparations, and Rachel
Well, actually, he could leave Cowboy. The dog at least was well-mannered and didn’t talk all the time. That put a smile on her face as she entered the kitchen.
“There you are.” Dory’s consistently cheery voice came from halfway inside the oven where she was testing the temperature of the meat. “There’s a new guest in the house tonight. With you, Peg, Jonathan, and Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, that makes six. When you set the table, be sure to put the new hunk next to you.”
“He’s not a guest,” Rachel mumbled. But was Garrett a hunk? He was attractive, she’d give him that, but as soon as she’d discovered who he was, he ceased to be anything but the detestable man who’d made Amanda cry once a month like clockwork and probably other times in between that no one had known about. Rachel had learned that outward appearance usually meant zilch. What was inside made the man, and as far as she could tell, Garrett didn’t have it in that department. “Why would I want him to sit by me?” She returned Dory’s impish grin with a scowl. The other woman’s sparkling blue eyes and dimpled cheeks soon had Rachel choking on a laugh.
Dory chuckled loudly. “That just proves it right there, girl. When was the last time you made hot monkey love with the likes of Mr. McDreamy out there?” Her gaze skewered Rachel, demanding an answer.
Dory Sullivan was about as cute as they came. Two years older than Rachel, with a petite figure that could stop traffic, she had no trouble getting dates. She also had no qualms about dispensing advice to those less fortunate, a position Rachel had found herself in more times than she cared to count.
“We’ve talked about this, Dory. Still not interested.” Rachel sidestepped the question, but couldn’t escape the shiver that feathered along her spine. So she didn’t trust men easily. What was so wrong with that? There’d been a time, many years ago, when she’d given her heart, soul, and body to the man of her dreams. Those dreams had somehow turned into a living nightmare. She was happier and safer on her own, despite what Dory thought.
Dory straightened, and her blonde head wagged back and forth. “You’re not getting any younger you know, Rach.”
They both laughed. “Yeah, well, the last time I checked, twenty-eight was still too young for assisted living.” Rachel grabbed an apron from the hangers beside the refrigerator and tied it around her as she stepped forward.
“It all depends on who’s doing the assisting, in my opinion.” Dory’s grin widened.
Rachel rolled her eyes and grimaced. “Would you stop, please? Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Set the table. And then stir the gravy while I whip up my famous broccoli salad.” Dory handed Rachel a wooden stirring spoon as she passed her on the way to the refrigerator. With one hand on the door handle, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Are you still getting those calls?”
Rachel stiffened even as she pasted a phony smile on her face. If only she hadn’t confided in Dory last week after her friend had witnessed her answer three calls in a row with either heavy breathing or silence on the line. Thank goodness she’d sworn her to secrecy so Rachel didn’t have to worry about Peg finding out. “No. Must have just been kids playing pranks.” She grabbed plates and silverware and headed toward the dining room, hoping Dory would buy her lie.
After making quick work of the table settings, she folded simple place cards and put one at each seat. It would be foolish to deny her friend’s suggestion completely when it was within her power to ensure that Garrett sat as far away from her as possible. Upon returning to the kitchen, Dory was occupied with last-minute preparations, and Rachel
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