Nora's Guy Next Door. Jo McNallyЧитать онлайн книгу.
from the drink in his hand to the dark circles under his eyes. The pieces started falling into place. That bottle had probably been full at some point last night and may have been part of the reason he didn’t make it to brunch this morning.
Okay, so this guy had some serious issues. But their kids needed them. She gave him her brightest smile, but his scowl just deepened. “So we decided to bring the brunch to you. There’s homemade blueberry cobbler in the box, and we picked up some coffee from next door. I thought we should get to know each other, since we have a mutual grandchild on the way.”
Blue eyes stared hard at her, as if trying to decipher her words.
“That’s not going to happen. Not today. Not any day. You’re trying to play me, and it won’t work. You’re trying to fix a problem that can’t be fixed.” He started to step away. Without thinking, she put her hand on his arm to stop him.
“I understand you’re angry, but we’re their parents, and those two kids need us. That baby needs us. And you’re the one who lives here in the same town.”
He spoke to her hand on his arm instead of looking her in the eye.
“This isn’t some damned Norman Rockwell painting, Nora. I’m not that guy. You may be the ride-in-and-save-everyone type, but don’t bother trying to save me, okay?” He looked her right in the eye. “I’m going to do everything in my power to stop this pregnancy, and if I can’t do that, I’ll make sure they don’t get married.”
“Stop the pregnancy?” Her stomach rolled and soured.
“Doctors can be called. Appointments made. Then both our children get on with their lives.”
A chill swept across her skin. He couldn’t be this calculating and cruel.
“They’re in love with each other. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Don’t give me your rosy fairy tales. They’re young and resilient. They’ll move on from this.”
Before she could answer, Michael and Becky came back into the shop. Becky’s face was red and blotchy from crying, but she’d regained her composure. Michael purposefully moved her well past his father, but his eyes fell to Nora’s hand, still on Asher’s arm. Apparently people didn’t touch him a lot. Small wonder. She yanked it away.
Asher looked at her with eyes devoid of any emotion, as if he’d pulled the shutters down from the inside. He glanced at his son and her daughter, and she saw the briefest glimmer of regret when he looked back and met her eyes.
“Look, you seem like a nice woman. Your daughter’s probably a nice girl. But I’ll have no part of this.”
“This?”
“Them.” He lifted his chin to where Becky stood in front of Michael, his arms wrapped protectively around her. “The baby. The wedding. All of it. None of it. I won’t be involved. Just...just leave me out of it, okay? I’m out.”
“Dad, please...”
Michael’s plea went unheard. Asher was through the side door and gone before anyone could react.
NORA WRAPPED THE last Christmas ornament with care, tucking it into the single remaining open square in the plastic storage bin designed specifically for that purpose. She glanced at her cousin Bree, then frowned.
“Oh, no, honey, don’t put the garland in with the ornaments. The garland goes in the box with the lights. There should be a labeled bag in there to keep it separate.”
Bree Caldwell, former reality star turned farmer’s wife, arched a perfectly manicured brow. “You have a labeled bag for your Christmas garland?” She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. You have labels for everything. You’re the most label-y person I know.”
Nora straightened. “Why does everyone make fun of my labels? I know exactly where everything is, and if I don’t, the labels tell me. It’s called being organized. It’s a skill, not a disease.”
They’d filled all three bins according to their labels, and tomorrow Nora would store them in the back of the closet, where they wouldn’t get too hot during the long Atlanta summer. Everyone in the South knew a hot attic was out of the question for storing anything of value.
She really didn’t need her cousin’s help, but Bree had driven from North Carolina as part of an informal family mercy mission. Next week, another cousin, Melanie, was flying in from Miami for a visit. And Amanda called at least once a day from Gallant Lake. Her cousins were worried about her being alone in Georgia after a disastrous holiday. She’d like to say their worry was unfounded, but the truth was that she appreciated their support.
Bree held her hands up. “Hey, it’s your house. We’ll do it your way. But when I packed up Christmas at home last week, I just wrapped the stuff in paper towels and stuffed them in old liquor boxes from the bar. Not a label in sight, other than writing Xmas on top of the boxes.”
“You wrapped your ornaments in paper towels?” Nora shuddered. “But how will you ever find...” She stopped, doing her best to keep from imposing her planning skills on her cousin. Bree brushed her long red hair over her shoulder and laughed.
“How will I find things? Well, in December I’ll unpack everything onto the dining table and decorate the tree from there. It’s really not a big deal. Besides, I was too tired from my honeymoon to care.” Bree became Mrs. Cole Caldwell on New Year’s Eve. The wedding was held at Halcyon in Gallant Lake, creating a travel-filled holiday for everyone, which was why they were packing up Christmas in mid-January. Cole and Bree had honeymooned in Barbados for a week, while Nora stayed in Gallant Lake just long enough to live through the biggest argument with Becky she’d ever had.
“Has she called yet?” Bree’s voice softened. “You’ve got that look. You know, the I-have-to-replay-that-fight-in-my-head-for-the-fiftieth-time look.”
Nora just shook her head and sat on the sofa. Becky hadn’t called. Nor had she answered Nora’s calls. Or her emails. Or her texts.
“She’ll come around, honey. She’s stubborn, like her momma, but she’ll come around.” Bree sighed. “I’m sorry if it was my wedding that started this whole mess.”
“It wasn’t the wedding. She always misses her dad the most at Christmas, and I said the wrong thing.”
“What did you say?”
Nora picked at a thread on her sweater sleeve. “It started with Michael’s father, Asher.” Nora felt an odd shot of energy just saying his name. Probably because he was causing so much trouble for everyone. “He’s determined to stop the wedding at all costs, and even resorted to ‘forbidding’ Michael from being with Becky.” Nora made air quotes with her fingers.
“I laughed when Becky told me, and she flipped out. And then I made the mistake of saying it sounded like something her father would have said. As if by pronouncing something, he’d make it so. Comparing Asher to her perfect father was a mistake. And then I said I agreed with him on delaying the wedding, and kaboom.” Nora made an explosion motion with her hands. “We started fighting about the pregnancy and the wedding and what an awful control freak I am and how she doesn’t want my negative, uptight attitude around her baby, and on and on and on.”
“So Asher is the guy you flirted with in the grocery store, right? Before you knew you were both about to become grandparents together? Amanda says he’s a handsome devil.”
Nora nodded. She’d thought about those angry, ice-blue eyes more than once since their confrontation in November.
“Devil being the operative word.” She hadn’t spoken to him while in Gallant Lake for Bree’s wedding, but she did walk past his studio one afternoon after buying coffee at that weird coffee shop next door. Through the glass, she’d