Her Last Best Fling. Candace HavensЧитать онлайн книгу.
that wasn’t right. “Out of sorts. Please come in. And Harley lives with me now. She would have been in here days ago, but the rain kept the ground too wet for them to finish putting the fence in.”
He handed her a colorful bouquet of chrysanthemums in a vase. “These are a present for your new home.” In his other hand he held a large paper bag. “I didn’t know what you were cooking so I brought a couple bottles of wine, some dark beer and, er...green tea.”
She took the flowers and led him to the kitchen. “Thank you, these are beautiful, but you didn’t have to bring anything.”
He shrugged and sat the bag down on her quartz countertop. “It’s the south, if you don’t bring a housewarming gift on the first occasion you visit, or to any party you’re invited to, they’ll talk about you for years.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” she said. Not that she’d been invited to anything, but maybe some day.
“I probably should have mentioned my kitchen skills are somewhat limited. But I make a mean beef stew. I put it on earlier today, so it should be ready in a few minutes. And I have bread and salad.”
“Sounds good to me. In general, I like food, so it doesn’t matter too much what it is. After C-Rats, I can, and have, digested everything from guinea pig in Machu Picchu to some weird toad in Africa. I’m not sure that last one didn’t lead to a night of hallucinations.”
She laughed. “I’m pretty adventurous when it comes to food, but I’ve never eaten either of those.”
“You get to a point where just about everything really does taste like chicken.” He smiled and her heart did a double thump.
Oh, heck, I’m in trouble.
She forced a smile.
“Now I feel like maybe I should have tried for something more exotic.” She examined the wine bottles he’d brought. He’d surprised her with his choices. She didn’t know much about wine, but neither bottle was cheap. “Do you have a preference?”
“Whatever you want is fine with me. I’ll be drinking the tea.”
At her quizzical look, he explained. “The docs are weaning me off the painkillers for my leg. It’s best if I don’t drink as it can create an allergic reaction. Although, me and my buddies at the hospital suspected they only told us that so we don’t find out how the painkillers are with alcohol. They deal with a lot of addicted vets there.”
“We can’t have that. Tea it is. The last thing I need is alcohol. It tends to loosen my tongue, and I’m not the one who needs to do the talking tonight.”
She caught the tightening of his lips before he turned away. “I don’t mind,” he said. “If you want a glass of wine. It won’t bother me.”
“No,” she said lightly. “I’ve grown fond of tea since moving here. Cracks me up that they drink it iced even in the dead of winter.”
“Staple of the South,” he said, pulling a large plastic pitcher with a lid out of the bag. “Usually it’s black tea. I have this friend from China who told me that green tea has healing properties. It also clears away some of the fogginess from the drugs.”
“I’ve heard that, too.” She’d forgotten about his injuries. Except for a small limp, he didn’t seem to be in much pain. But she’d met plenty of marines and she knew how tough they were. If he had to take drugs, the injuries were severe. The journalist in her wanted to know specifics, but it would wait.
“Before we eat, would you like to see the house? Actually, most of it is my uncle Todd’s taste. But I have a few touches here and there.”
“I like the stonework on the outside mixed with the pale brick. It blends into the rocky hills behind the house.”
“Yes, that was one of his ideas—for it to blend into the landscape. Though, I think it’s kind of fun that he added a Gothic touch with some of the windows and the roof alignment.
“Did you know my uncle? I mean, you’ve been gone awhile, but before?”
“I didn’t know him. I probably heard his name around town, but I wasn’t much interested in the newspaper when I was a kid. And some might say I was a little self-absorbed back then. I like to say, I was a teenager.”
They laughed.
She took him through the family area where Harley plopped down on her sofa. The television was on Animal Planet, which seemed to be the dog’s favorite along with anything on PBS.
He smiled. “She’s made herself at home there.”
“Oh, that couch is hers. I even had them put extra down in it and then had that wrapped in plastic and an outdoor fabric. Great Danes have joint and bone aches most of their lives. I wanted Harley to have a soft place to rest. Just a minute, I need to change the channel for her.”
Picking up the remote, she set it on one of the PBS Nova specials. Harley grunted her agreement.
She’d learned about the dog’s television preferences earlier in the day when she’d sat with her at her former home. If Macy tried to watch a channel Harley didn’t like, the dog would voice her displeasure.
Not that she was spoiled or anything.
The house was a Texas T shape. The various hallways fed into the center area, which was the main entertaining space. “Down that hall are two bedrooms. There’s another guest bedroom down that hall—” she pointed “—and the master bedroom and study are down that hall,” she said.
It didn’t seem appropriate to take him to the bedrooms. “There’s a loft upstairs with two more bedrooms. But it isn’t really worth the trip up. Let me show you the study. There are a lot of Civil War antiques in there. My uncle was a collector.” The rest of the house had been furnished in rich warm tone-on-tone colors. It was a comfortable place to relax at the end of the day. The only room that was slightly feminine was the master bedroom and bathroom, which Macy had decorated.
Macy opened the door to the study and smiled when Blake muttered, “Woooee. This is a museum.”
His eyes traveled over the glass cases filled with small items and guns from various Civil War battles.
She’d had the estate appraised and this room alone was worth a couple of million. The study had been outfitted with special equipment that would protect it from fire and anything else Mother Nature might throw at it. The whole house was a bunker of sorts, concrete surrounded by stone. The windows could withstand an F-5 tornado. That was good because in this part of the country hurricanes and tornados happened at least once or twice a year.
“I don’t have the heart to auction off these things. Other than the newspaper, this was my uncle Todd’s only passion. I can feel his spirit in here, and I just can’t let go of his stuff.”
Blake blew out a whistle. “I’m no expert, but even I know this is one incredible collection. There are people who’d pay big money for it, but I understand how you feel. My dad collected baseball caps and cards. We still have an entire wall of his hats, some are from teams that no longer exist, and a few are hats his dad had given to him. There’s an original Yankees cap in the bunch, but my mom hides that one when her friends come over.
“It was never even a question if we’d keep them. And I feel the same way about them, as you do.”
She smiled. “Sounds like you really loved your dad.”
Flipping off the light switch, he followed her out the door and to the kitchen.
“Has the interview started?” His voice had changed and he sounded as if he suspected her of trying to get him to talk about his past.
“No. Mere curiosity. I thought I’d feed you before grilling you.” She winked at him.
“Then, yes. My dad was a hero to my brother and me. He’s the reason I went into the